The New Year

Today, I stumbled upon my prompt box.  The one with the pretty strips of paper all folded up and full of interesting prompts upon which to write.  Well.  Things to think about writing about.  Because you know what, I'm going to end that sentence with a preposition...and everyone's going to like it.  So there.  Anyway, I pulled a prompt:

"Turn to an entry in your journal or diary from a year or more ago.  What has changed and what has stayed the same since then?"

Naturally, that brought me to look at this beauty from a little more than a year ago.  As far as attitudes go, I'm pretty much in the same place.  I relish the idea of growing old versus growing up because it makes my brain hurt in a not quite unpleasant way.  And I wholeheartedly agree with Past Brianna that I would much rather grow old.  There will be no growing up here.

As far as life goes, this time last year, I was living in Florida.  I was packing my bags to get ready to come back to Illinois.  I had no job prospects, and no idea what I was going to do with my life past move into my childhood bedroom in my parents' house.  I was newly single, I was irrationally bitter, and I knew that I was going to miss the support and friendship I found in my flatmates.  I had also just finished off a tiring week of work, and was excited to get to a more normal work schedule for my last week.  I was also writing angsty and/or conflicted poetry, some of which turned out well.

This year, I still (unfortunately) have no idea what I'm going to do with my life.  But today I'm at home in Illinois temporarily because come Saturday, I will be driving back out to Nebraska where work has taken me.  I have a job, I have my own place to live (rent-free), and I have excellent co-workers who I'm looking forward to getting to know even better during the next couple months of 2014.  I'm staying in touch with the majority of my flatmates, as well as classmates from college and high school.  I'm just finishing up a relaxing week of rejuvenating "at home time" and there's a part of me that's itching to get back to Nebraska.  Today I find myself irrationally optimistic when I'm not choked with terror, and making Shrinky Dinks, because that's what a 23 year old does with her free time in her childhood home before she gets back to her "big kid job."  Though I can't classify under a specific heading or genre...I'm still writing poetry that echoes way too much of my current life experiences.

My one conflict with my past "journal entry" is that though I agree with it and want to put it into practice, I'm currently in a job that requires me to act a mite bit older than my true age...because I manage college students.  And I'm no longer a college student, so I can't buddy-buddy with them.  So I find it more difficult to not grow up, or to do justice to my desire to never grow up.  I wouldn't say that I think my soul has died and I'm now an adult, but I will say that I can't run around coloring on walls with crayons or rolling around in the snow in front of my Nebraska home.  Frustrating, yes.  But I'm sure the universe has its reasons for putting me through this.  (Oh gosh, that sounded a lot...I don't know, but I'm leaving it because I'm too lazy to find a way to re-phrase.)

Onward to create more Shrinky Dinks!

Happy 2014, let's make this one a great one!

"When you grow up, your heart dies."

- The Breakfast Club

Les Croissants!

Tonight I was seized by the sudden urge to bake something.  Consulting my Pinterest board that tells me all about the things that I want to learn how to make, bake, and cook, I settled on chocolate croissants.

This necessitated a trip to the local grocery store, Quality Foods, to fetch crescent rolls, chocolate chips, and cheese and salsa.  Just kidding, the cheese and salsa are for something else, but who knows, chocolate and just about everything tastes good, so maybe chips, chocolate, and salsa might be kinda neat.  I also got to stop in at Shopko to get a cookie sheet because I should have one anyway.

I didn't quite follow all the instructions, but they did turn out!

Just look how pretty they are!

These are Brianna-made croissants!

This is really quite exciting because now I have something delicious to eat for breakfast for the next week.  Chocolate croissants and tea, it's going to be absolutely delightful, that's for sure!  And I'm so proud that I didn't burn the croissants or the building!  YEAH!

“Remember the days when you let your child have some chocolate if he finished his cereal? Now, chocolate is one of the cereals.” 

- Robert Orben

More Things I've Learned at Home

Even when you're at home, out of school, you learn some things.  And seeing as I'm going to be leaving home for a job in Nebraska, it seems fitting to post this now.

1.  The people who go to free library or community events are typically the same age as your grandmother.
2.  If you knit for long periods of time, your fingers can seize up.
3.  Marshall Field's will always be Marshall Field's.  The walking tour guide said so, so it has to be true.
4.  You may follow your stomach down Epic Lane, and find yourself on an Epic adventure you didn't expect.
5.  Go to the House on the Rock in the summer.  Or go in the winter, freeze your toes off, and get a personalized tour.
6.  The creepy people will find you.  And they will talk to you.
7.  "Oh, you must have a teen at home.  Oh--oh, you just like reading...well keep reading..."
8.  The day you want to go to the library to get a movie, they will be closed.
9.  Sometimes you need to bring a bodyguard.
10.  There are significantly more interesting things to do around the city that aren't necessarily advertised or Google-able.
11.  Storytelling is beautiful.
12.  Pre-screening interview?
13.  They're your parents, so they're going to ask you where you're going and when you're going to get back.  You'll be lucky  if they don't ask who you're going with so you don't have to say, "Well...no one..."
14.  The days when you write a to do list and accomplish all of your tasks will be your more fulfilling days.  Make more of those.
15.  The cheese curds are good.  The service, not so great.
16.  "Don't mess with her, she doesn't have a pancreas!"
17.  Right hand turns on red lights are more important than the life of a pedestrian (she says after basically being hit by a car, thanks lady!).
18.  You've been to this building multiple times, you know that the elevator goes to the 8th floor, and yet you still insist on taking the stairs up to a locked door and getting lost.
19.  Not all people will understand your sense of humor and you need to be okay with this.
20.  Sugar does not alleviate caffeine jitters.
21.  Keep on writing your e-mails the way you do, because it's awesome.
22.  Sometimes being 22 is rough.  Other times it's great.  Find the in between.
23.  Demon wine.  Never again.
24.  Irrationality.  All over the place.  All the time.  And that's okay.
25.  I can't remember what I did for fun when I was 12, and I guess that's going to have to be okay.
26.  Trekking up and down all the stairs in my house is an ordeal.
27.  Interesting people are few and far between.
28.  If you bring someone to a party with you and share a drink with them, chances are the people around you will assume you're "together."
29.  NaPoWriMo exposes you to interesting poets and poetry sites if you're inclined to take a gander.
30.  Always be prepared to cry during a Doctor Who episode.
31.  Okay, so insufferable and cruel characters can turn out to be endearing and clever.  Thanks for proving me wrong, Logan Echolls.
32.  When given a number of songs to include in a playlist, you may exceed this number.  By a lot.
33.  Make change.  Yeah.  That's a pun.
34.  Carry cash.
35.  The El is awesome.  The end.
36.  Chances are there is parking where you're going.  Although 95% of the time it will be permit only parking or you'll have to pay.
37.  You'll remember the knot when you get there.
38.  You may expect to see a lot of slave Leias at the comic con, but chances are you'll only see one, and her boyfriend will be dressed as...himself.  Disappointing.
39.  Be careful who you're talking to when you joke about stealing something off a person's table.  That person just might be the writer.  Oops.
40.  Stairwells.
41.  Honesty and a lack of secrets bring you closer to a person you didn't think that was possible for.  If that makes any sense at all.
42.  "We deserve to be more than 'just' anything."
43.  Painting yellow over gray takes far more coats of paint than you originally anticipated.
44.  The thing you will miss most about college is the community.  Specifically the creative community, but also the school family.
45.  When you come home, you'll realize that having a roommate was really kinda nice.
46.  Sometimes there is an unspoken deadline.
47.  Poems sold from a gumball/vending machine are the best poems.  Well, best poems for the fifty cents you pay for them.
48.  That person you met once is now following you on all social media outlets, and you just want them to go away.
49.  There are some people who you really want to be friends with, so when you finally do make friends, this is a huge and worthwhile accomplishment.
50.  The opinions of some people matter more than the opinions of other people.
51.  Poetry readings in an apartment or a bookstore, infinitely better than poetry readings in large spaces.
52.  The poet recognized your face too, you don't have to feel dumb for not recognizing him at first.  Oops.
53.  "Are you sure you can live in a small town?  I mean, you are from Chicago..."
54.  My room will always get significantly worse before it's even close to being clean and straightened.
55.  Sometimes doing the right thing is more difficult and hurts more than doing what's easy, but in the long run, it'll all be okay.

"Puttin' on a cowboy hat and a pair of boots doesn't make you country; Like puttin' on a ball gown and heels won't make me Cinderella."

- Kellie Elmore

What Can I Do?!

Today I'm trying to clean my room and bring the rest of my things down into the dungeon, and I found this list folded up in one of my desk drawers.  This is the exact order of this list, and I haven't changed anything past the title.  I may have been on to something here...

What can I do?!
- actor
- writer
- librarian
- stage manager
- set designer (scale...)
- lighting designer (possibly science...)
- director (stage/screen)
- historical consultant
- dramaturg (I don't know what this is...)
- mime
- French translator
- teacher (eh?)
- playwright/screenplay writer
- pirate/sailor
- something GS related
- Creative Writing Teacher
- professor
- speech writer
- waitress
- book shop owner
- Disney worker (imagineer?)
- worker at the Renaissance Fair
- governess
- nanny (like Mary Poppins!)
- professional turtle tosser/letter writer/ (galactic) hitchhiker
- journalist (or not...)
- zoo keeper

A Common Household Scene

(It is a Tuesday afternoon, and BRIANNA returns home after spending time at the local library (not the one she planned on visiting), applying for a job.  Note, "a job" because the application for that one stinking job took an eternity to fill out.  When we find BRIANNA, she is laying on her back on the hardwood floor of her family's kitchen while her father passes by to get to the family's computer room.  DAD is not paying attention, but doesn't step on her because that would absolutely awful.  MOM is chopping onions on the counter nearby.)

BRIANNA:  (undisguisedly pleased with herself) I applied for a job today!

DAD:  And?

BRIANNA:  And...I applied for a job today!

DAD:  And?

BRIANNA:  ...um.  It's not--

DAD:  Did you get it?

BRIANNA:  It's not an instantaneous thing...

MOM:  Now's the waiting game, dear.

DAD:  Oh.

MOM:  You're starting to sound like a Millennial.

BRIANNA:  Ouch.  On behalf of my generation, I am injured that you would call him one...

MOM:  Isn't it the Millennials that want everything to happen right away?

BRIANNA:  Maybe?  Did you also know that the older generations think we're shitty?  Thanks...thanks a lot.

(BRIANNA lays back on the cool floor as DAD heads over to play on the computer and watch drum solos of Katy Perry songs.  MOM continues chopping onions.

Scene.)

If I told you that this is a common conversation in my house, you probably wouldn't be surprised.  Well, if you know myself and my parents at all.  Okay, maybe the Millennial comment is unusual, but the rest of it is right on.  I just thought it was important to include everything in the conversation if only to get a decent length for this post.  Yup.

I really wish that this wasn't a common conversation.  What can I say, I'd like to be lauded for my single job application because it was for Walgreens, and it took me two hours to do.

So...what am I really supposed to say to that single word question: "And?"  I guess I can think of a couple things:
-  "And I heard that the Blackhawks lost, that's a serious bummer, right?"
-  "And the weather's pretty nice, did you need me to pick up sticks in the backyard?  I'm just going to go do that..."
-  "And I actually heard back from them at the exact moment that I pressed the submit button, and good news, I'm moving out and I'll have a pay check that's six figures!"

Really?  This is going to be a recurring rant until about the time when I get a job, and by then, it's going to be a rant about how my parents hate my job because it makes me poor, or how I hate my job because it eats my soul.  So anyway, I understand that my father wants me to have a job.  At least, that's the only assumption that I can make from this single word question, because it doesn't really sound like he's saying, "Rah, rah, good job, Brianna!  Go you for applying for a job!"  I mean, I would know how to respond to that, I would just beam happily and preen.  Why yes, I did apply for a job, thanks for noticing, would you like my autograph too?  So...why exactly is my father demonstrating more impatience with my situation than I am?  Is he really that eager to get me out of his house?  Just curious.

On another note, I had a really awful dream about our house burning down, and my thought in my dream was "Shit, I only have one copy of every poem I've ever written for the Poem-A-Day Project."  Because part of me fears this is my seer potential tapping into prophecy that something terrible's going to happen to my hard copies, I'm typing up every single poem I've written and uploading them to Google Drive!  Who's excited to read all of these poems again and get them into some cohesive order?  THIS POET!  Yup.  That's the plan.

"What good has impatience ever brought?  It has only served as the mother of mistakes and the father of irritation."

- Steve Maraboli

A Letter to Tan Lines

Dear Tan Lines,

You know me.  We're pretty close.  I mean, you're attached to me, and I'm a little attached to you by virtue of your being branded into my skin.  But in case you're not familiar with my name, I'm Brianna.  Hey, how you doing?

Back in Florida, I noticed you existed because when I wore tank tops, you were there marking our the sleeves that I wore for my costume.  That costume was adorable, but the sleeves were just too darn long due to the unisex nature of those yellow and white striped button downs that we weren't allowed to roll up.  And then there were the tan lines that reminded me I had to wear socks that covered my ankles, leaving the knobs of my ankles down to my toes a pale Elmer's glue white.  Luckily you didn't mark out my skort because my thighs are always pale anyway.

Well.  I noticed you yesterday.  I thought you'd faded away completely and that I was back to my usual pale and fairly even self, but when I donned that tank top and went out into the sun yesterday, there you were.  Yes, you had faded during the winter months when I covered you up in sweater sleeves and long pants, but you're still there.  I could tell you were still there when I bared my shoulders to the sunlight yesterday afternoon.

And don't get me wrong, I'm really glad that I got tan rather than burned in Florida, but I'd really like the evidence of my shirtsleeves to go away.

So basically, I love you...but please leave.

Love,
Brianna

-------------------------------------------------------

Brianna Life Update:

The job search continues.

My internship has me doing a lot of things, and I'm still really excited about it.  A bunch of stuff that I wrote for the site has even been posted, and you can read all that here: www.heresthestory.org.

I'm still doing my Poem-A-Day Project, but for some reason I keep leapfrogging.  I keep forgetting to write a poem every other day, leading me to write two poems in a day...multiple days "in a row."  I don't know what's up with this, but it's something that I'm going to have to figure out before next month, because it just can't go on like this.

I'm still working on revising poems that I'm sending out to people as part of an artistic pay it forward type deal from Facebook.  I actually wanted to commit to doing that, because I know lots of people post those statuses, collect things from people, and then never actually send out art.  So...I'm doing that, but I'm having difficulty picking poems for people and making sure that they're pretty.  The only reason I'm posting this on my blog is because I'm fairly certain that the people I'm talking about have either forgotten that I owe them a poem or they don't read this blog.  So...I win.

I'm reading too many books at once.  Right now I have bookmarks in Act of Will and Wonder Boys, and on the almost immediate line up after those are The Handmaid's Tale and Beautiful Creatures, both of which I've borrowed from friends.  Though one of them I'm going to hold hostage, so go ahead and try to stop me!

I haven't been on any adventures recently, but I did buy new jeans (whoohoo!) the other day, and they look awesome.  Mostly because I'm wearing them, and I always look awesome, but also because they're super comfy.

And that's about it.  Happy Thursday!

"I think you are wrong to want a heart.  It makes most people unhappy.  If you only knew it, you are in luck not to have a heart."

- L. Frank Baum

We interrupt the poetry for...a life update!

I promise I wrote a poem today, but I wrote it by hand, and it's a little bad, and a little angsty, and I didn't want to subject anyone to that, so I'm doing a life update for now.  Hooray for life!

Poem-A-Day April is coming along.  Considering it's only the third day, I haven't fallen behind yet.  I'm thinking my first zodiac poem is going to be Virgo, but I think that's just because it was the first sign that came to mind after Cancer (because that's my sign, you horrible depressing people...).

I have two internships.  Both of them are unpaid.  Both of them are with awesome people who I'm excited to learn from.  Internship #2 might have a job opening soon, depending on if the woman I'm working for gives me the nod.  So...maybe I'll have a job.

My parents are going out of town, which means that I get to have the house all to myself and have the crazy party that I've always dreamed of which centers around myself surrounded by candles reading a book.  It's going to be insane.  I might even drink tea.  OH MAN.  In related news, I may starve to death or eat a lot of pizza while they're gone because I maintain that I can't cook, and even if I do, it will never be delicious on purpose.  Though this might be a perfect opportunity to try out some of those recipes I pinned on Pinterest an eternity ago.

It's been a while since I've seen friends, but I'm not getting the weird stir-crazy that I was before.  And I'm realizing that I've been a horrible friend and haven't texted people about hanging out recently...so I guess I should probably do that.  That's a lie, I saw a friend on Sunday, I'm just starving for attention, it seems.

There is a container of cookie dough ice cream in the freezer.  It may disappear very soon.

Dad came home with the revelation that you can do a Masters program that can actually be funded so you're not paying money to study for an advanced degree.  I swear this is information I have graced upon him before, he probably wasn't listening over the sounds of "TUITION" screaming in his ears once I mentioned "school."  This revelation, however, doesn't really have an impact upon me because deadlines for Fall 2013 are passed, presumably, and I'm still not even a little sure of what I would study.

And just thinking about it makes my eyes fill up with tears, though I'm not sure why.

Repeat:  I have no idea what I would study.  So all you people who are asking me, "Why aren't you in grad school?" need to back off before I explode into saline because the answer is, "Because I don't know if I want to be there."

I do, however, feel rotten.  For unknown reasons.  I just feel very very small, and I'm not sure why (sensing a theme?).  I can't even really explain it, because it came on so quickly.  So that's great fun.

This is how I feel, in a nutshell:

Kaleidoscope Heart

I learned recently that one of my readers recently (how many times can I use that word in a sentence...) is an attorney, or at least works at an attorney's office, so their name links back to that website.  You know who you are if you're reading this now!  And I find it interesting that they commented on one of my posts to stress legality and getting everything down in "black and white."  Just wanted to take a moment to thank that commenter, and assure them that my Last Will and Testament post was a draft, I'll be working out the kinks soon, and when I'm closer to my deathbed.

Moving on to today's prompt which I pulled from my box (yes, I'm going to announce that every time I pull a prompt from the box, you'll probably get irritated, but you'll have to either deal with it or...deal with it, thank you!).

Today's prompt:  What music album would be used for a movie about your life?

I was just thinking about this fairly recently (it's that word again...).  I'm actually making a list of all the songs that are out now or that I'm hearing played on the radio right now that apply to my post-graduation "real world" life.  So I've got a couple songs on that list, but it's not a whole album.  One that I'd just like to mention because a friend shared it with me and I feel like it suddenly applies with "22 is like the worst idea that I have ever had..." is Paramore's "Hello Cold World."  It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

What's strange is that there's one album that would be pretty good for a movie about my life right now.  Or at least, how my life is right now, and that's Sara Bareilles' "Kaleidoscope Heart."  I shamelessly borrowed the CD from my local library so I could familiarize myself with the music, because my same friend who sent me Paramore's song also sent me "Uncharted."

There was a good week when I played this song on loop.  It was in December, and I was trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life when I got home from Florida.  If there was a movie montage to go with this song in the movie of my life, it would be me puttering around the apartment, playing on my computer, and writing stacks of poetry.  Which is interesting in that that's exactly what I'm doing right now since I've been back from Florida.  But this is how I've found myself approaching my life right now.  It's uncharted.  I'm the one making my decisions and determining my own future, drawing the lines on my own map, and I don't want to listen to other people telling me how "to get started."

Then there's "Gonna Get Over You," which makes me love Sara Bareilles all the more, because the music video is so fun.  I don't really know what to say about this.  I'm not sure it's making a promise that I can keep, but I don't know.  "I'm not the girl I intend to be."  This is something I want to live, I want to be the girl that I do intend to be.  Just...need to figure that one out.

"King of Anything."  The song that I've heard on the radio and sung along with.  This would be perfect for the movie of my life because the movie of my life is going to be a romantic comedy of some sort, and I'm going to sing this to someone in a diner.  At least, that's how I'm imagining it.

I'm not really feeling coherent right now, but my feeling is that this album as a whole pretty accurately paints my life as it is right now.  I'm still figuring things out, feeling like there's potential for everything, and yet having no idea how I'm going to get there.  I feel like I want everything but I don't have enough room in my arms to carry it all to the check-out counter.  So there's a lot of reflection needed, but I'm going to be playing this beauty on loop for the next couple forevers because Sara Bareilles is keeping me sane right now.

"Each day, countin' up the minutes, till I get alone, 'cause I can't stay

in the middle of it all, it's nobody's fault, but I'm

so low, never knew how much I didn't know, 

oh, everything is uncharted.

I know I'm getting nowhere, when I only sit and stare..."

- Sara Bareilles, "Uncharted"

Advice

Q:  Hey, so what's up?

A:  Not much, just hanging out with people who are younger than me.

Q:  Oh yeah?  Can't find too many friends your own age, eh?

A:  You have no idea how severely unfunny that is.  In fact, these teenagers are actually pretty cool.  I've known them for a while.

Q:  So what's up with the title?

A:  I'm getting there!  Sheesh!

Last night I was giving advice to a friend.  Specifically, I was giving advice to a teenaged friend about boys.  Via text message.  While I was sitting in Baker's Square with a friend who I've known since high school.  Because I'm incredibly rude.  (I'd say you probably wouldn't believe how often I text other people when I'm out with real people...but like I said, you probably wouldn't believe it.)  Anyway, I'm not saying I know a lot, but I have good instincts, and I care about people.  So that's where all my texting was coming from.

My friend who I was eating pie with made the observation that I've been doing this for a long time.  I almost wish that I could have asked him dubiously what he was talking about, but I already knew what he was saying.  I've been collecting friends and surrounding myself with people who could benefit from my advice.  In high school, I "adopted" freshmen, and in college, I was adamant about wanting to work in a first year hall as an RA.  And now that I'm out of school, I'm helping out with my local Girl Scout troop.  My friend made the comment that I can be the "cool and hip" adult person in old TV shows that picks up the main character from the police station, gives them a lecture in the car about responsibility, and then the credits roll.  I immediately thought of Full House.  But I'm not really sure I can be Uncle Jesse.

This realization isn't really something that should come as a surprise to me.  It's just something that I do, kinda like breathing.  And obsessively checking Facebook even though I know that nothing interesting could have happened in the span of five minutes.

So I find myself thinking that this is something I'd like to do with my life.  In The Future, maybe.  I want to be able to give people advice, or help them when they're struggling with something.  And I think that's what draws me to residential life at universities, because I had such a great mentor while I was at school, and I'd like to serve as the same type of person for another student.  When I say I want to "help people," this is the capacity in which I want to help them.  I want to get on their level or be able to say, "I've been there," or "I care about you" and mean it.

And this is when I realize that this tendency toward "mentoring" the young is exactly why people think I would make a good teacher.  Not just because of the formal teaching aspect that would come as a function of my own knowledge and studies, but because I could also be that teacher that the students could confide in.

I'm not really sure where this takes me, but I do know that self-reflection is a big part of the job search.  At least, that's what What Color Is Your Parachute? tells me.  Because I'm a nerd.  Not the point.  Anyway, I'm sitting here thinking about it, and residential life just seems to make more and more sense.  It just feels like it could be a natural extension of the person I already am.  Hm.

"I always pass on good advice.  It is the only thing to do with it.  It is never of any use to oneself."

- Oscar Wilde

Future Brianna

I stole another idea from my English teacher friend's class blog.  It asks me to imagine a future me has come to talk to the present me.  What kind of advice would Future Brianna offer the now me?  Would I trust this person who claims to be me...from the future?

What I'm actually going to do is write this in the form of a letter.  Because I feel like it.  And because I imagine Future Brianna is literate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Past Brianna,

Well, by now you're Past Brianna in relation to my--I should probably introduce myself.

I'm you.  From The Future.  I know it sounds strange like some freaky Doctor Who or Back to the Future thing, but I promise I'm not going to attack London on Christmas, and your children are fine.  They're actually at school right now, and that younger one is a whippersnapper, let me tell you.

If I'm timing the receipt of this letter correctly, you're in the middle of your first ever job search.  And you're having great fun, you run around the block every time you hear back from a potential employer and you drink champagne every time you get a job offer that you're at your leisure to decline because you already have your perfect job, right?  Wrong.  I know it's seriously lame, that you spend the majority of your "job search" hunting through the same websites for different or new postings and that you've heard from less than 0.0000002% of the employers you've bothered to send your resume to.  You're also worried that these potential employers aren't a fan of the quote you start your cover letter with.  These are legitimate concerns.  But not really.  I know you think they are, but you really need to calm down.  Right now.

Deep breath.

And let it out.

Okay, good.  That's a start, at least.  From one Brianna to another, let me tell you that now is the time to work on your writing.  Because trust me, there's going to be a time very soon when you're going to have an opportunity related to your writing, and if you're not prepared for it, it's going to cause some serious stress.  I  know this because I lived the stress scenario, and it'd be really great if we could change that, because I suspect that's where the gray hairs came from.  I'm mostly kidding.  But when it comes to your writing, revise those stinking Poem-A-Day poems!  They're just sitting in piles on the desk chair for the desk that you don't use, and they're calling your name in feeble little voices, imploring you to "Do something with us!"  Answer the call.  Oh, and write a play.  Someone's going to ask you for a play, so it would be helpful to be prepared with that one.  Yeah.

And when it comes to the job search, keep up those deep breathing exercises.  It's going to take a while.  You've only been at it for a couple months, and you probably won't get a legitimate job offer until June, so sit back and relax a little.  And if you get a job offer from a website claiming to be a French person in Chicago...you need to ignore that one.  Okay, good.

You're also single, and I need for you to go forth and have fun with that.  For real.  Otherwise, you're just going to sink into sadness.  So please, for my sake, and the sake of your future children, go out and have some fun.  Because let's face it, those future children aren't going to let you go out with friends too often once they arrive.  Sorry, fact of life.  And I know right now you don't want kids...but that future husband's going to change your mind.  Oops, did I say you were going to get married?  Oh.  Yeah.  That.  Yeah, ignore that.

No, I'm not going to tell you where you meet.

Yes, you can trust me.

No, you should not burn this letter right now.

Anyway, you're sinking a lot of your time into trivial things.  So I need you to identify those trivial things and cut them out of your life.  Or at least trim them.  Facebook for instance, trivial thing.  This blog?  Not so much.  Just look at how much it's gotten you to write over the past...however long.  This is a good thing.  This is also a good thing to maintain because you have at least one person who reads your blog every single day, and I'm not going to tell you who it is.  So deal with it.

I know it sounds cheesy and probably a little unfair coming from me, but it's going to get better.  Okay, okay, I know, I'll back off on the cheese now.  When one door closes...ha, I'm only kidding.  You thought I was serious, you should really know you better.  Another thing to put on your to do list!

Remember things.  Be a good role model.  Put forth an effort, not only an effort, but your heart into everything.  Take a deep breath and remain calm.  Have a little fun.  Moderation.  Don't be afraid.  Help others.  Show people understanding.  Practice compassion.  Love.  Get out of your comfort zone and your shell.  Do something worthwhile.

And knit those elf slippers, because those things are awesome.

Love,
Future Brianna

"'You will be fine,' the fortune teller says.  'There may be decisions to make and surprises in store.  Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes.  The future is never set in stone, remember that.'"

- Erin Morgenstern

Last Will and Testament (A Draft)

I, Brianna, being of sound mind and body, memory and understanding, and after consideration of all my worldly belongings and valuable assets, do hereby make, publish and declare this my Last Will and Testament, as follows:

First, I declare that I am a resident of Cook County, and the State of Illinois and that as of now I do not have any children or spouse that I am aware of, though I reserve the right to forget that time in Germany because I was so out of my mind that I couldn't possibly have consented to marriage to that random man named Hans.  I maintain that I rejected him multiple times and if he insists that we're married, he's a damned dirty liar.

Second, I require that payments be made to settle all my debts, whether they be my pie indebtedness to certain friends who insist upon buying my pie for me when visiting Baker's Square or the rent on my considerably smaller than would be desired apartment.  I hereby issue a formal apology to my landlord for being behind on rent payments even though I had the money for them all along.  I really just wanted to live a Broadway musical, even if it was just for pretend.

Third, I bequeath my remaining monetary assets to the Girl Scouts of America in order to maintain their camps in the Midwest, most especially my favorite one, Juniper Knoll.

Fourth, all of my material possessions and various junk items may be divided up between my family members and thrown out as they see fit.  Importantly, my guitar must go to my uncle or his next of kin with ridiculous numbers of apologies for never forcing myself to learn how to play it and the shame of having died without learning.

Fifth, all my written matter must be entrusted to one of my most trusted writerly friends with the express purpose of publishing it all in a posthumous collection that will be more famous than I ever was when I was living.  In fact, I would like to allocate some of my monies to the purpose of marketing this work because damned if I won't go to the grave with some luster to my name.

Sixth, I would like to hire a crier for my grave for the first week of my interment.  He should be delightfully handsome and wear bright colors when crying over my headstone.  I would also like a plastic pink flamingo planted on my grave to be replaced every time the colors fade from its tacky plasticity.

Seventh and finally, I demand that my memorial take place in some festive outdoor place and preferably serve chocolate cake, because you all know I would have enjoyed to be there if I were alive if it involved chocolate cake and festivities in my honor.  Please feel free to play charades, Bananagrams, and Apples to Apples in my honor as you see fit.

And so with this last parting message I part this mortal world to join a higher purpose in some ethereal realm.  Farewell, all, I will see you soon, and we'll make as lively a ruckus as we can when engaging in undead shenanigans.

Much love,
Brianna

Make New Friends

Okay.  I have a really dumb question:

How do people make friends outside of school?

I knew this was going to be a problem when I found myself asking myself this very question before I graduated.  All my friends I've made through school and being in classes with them and living in the same building or working with them.  In theory, the same can be true of making friends in "The Real World," right? You make friends with the people you work with, invite them out to dinner or drinks after work and you hang out?  You make friends with the people you do things with.  Theoretically.

And also of note is that you keep the friends that you already had.  The ones from college and high school who you kept in touch with and still have things in common.  The problem with this is that sometimes these people are scattered.  They have different work schedules, they live just that little bit too far away to call spur of the moment to hang out.  So though you could spontaneously hang out while you were all at school and you could crash their room, now you have to plan to see these people and plan on spending whole days or evenings with them to make the most of your time because you don't know when you're going to see them again.

But for real.  How do people make friends on this side of graduation?

I'm having a distinct difficulty with this.  I'm working on going to events within the community in order to make friends.  That's all well and good except that the majority of the people who go to community events at libraries and stuff?  They're all well over 50.  Or 60.  I don't have a problem with older folk as long as they don't pinch my cheeks or condescend to me, but I can't really invite them to hang out late at night when I can't sleep.  [this is where I say/think something horrible about older people but choose not to say it because I can say it verbally to people who ask me in person]  I wanted to go to a book discussion yesterday, but when I got home in the snow, my gloves and my gym shoes were wet through and I was cold, and I just didn't want to move.  So I stayed in and watched Total Recall and The Little Mermaid, while knitting a Hufflepuff scarf.  I'll let you imagine that for a second...

Though I identify as an introvert, I need people.  I don't see people who aren't related to me very often, and when I do...it feels like I'm out of practice with the whole "social interaction" thing.  So I'm awkward.  Which is nothing new, but I notice.

So I'm trying to think of other things I can do.  It's been suggested that I volunteer.  I'm helping out with the Girl Scout troop that I've been a part of for years and helping out one of the leaders that I've known forever, but they only meet twice a month.  So that leaves 28 days out of the month with nothing to do for Brianna.  So I've got plenty of time to volunteer, I just need to find a place and a thing that I'm excited about and that's nearby and that will take all the time that I have to dedicate to it.

I'm also trying to come up with projects to give myself.  To have myself put together something, make something, do something that's constructive.  Pinterest is awesome for this.  These are mostly solo activities, so that leaves me in another lonely rut.  No people.  Unless I do these craft projects in a public place, which could be awkward, but definitely a conversation starter?

I think a large part of this could be solved by mustering the courage to go to things and do things on my own.  It'd be good for me, right?  Like vegetables.  But then I'm afraid that instead of feeling, "Yeah, I did this all on my own!" I'd feel even more lonely than I did before I went to some event all by myself.

Maybe I could take a class.  Unfortunately, spring semester's already started, so that's right out.  But maybe over the summer if I'm still in the area, I could take a class and make friends with my classmates.  That's something I'm good at.  Making friends with classmates.  Easy.

So that's what I've got: community events, volunteering, and an extra class.  Is that it?  Is this where people make friends?  Or is it the case of upperclass residence halls that everyone already has their established group of friends and they're not interested in meeting new people?  So...what then?  How am I to be expected to make friends with people who aren't interested in making any new friends or how do I find the people who want one more friend who's me?

This blog post brought to you by: The Post-Graduate Experience -- you thought it was all over when you left college, but it was really just the beginning.  Find yourself while slogging through complicated emotions, all while living with your parents!  Now for the low price of your student loans!  Don't wait, call now!

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: 'What!  You too?  I thought I was the only one.'"

- C.S. Lewis

Nothing New, Just Procrastinating

Q:  So what's going on?

A:  I am job searching.  When I say that I'm job searching, I really mean that I'm finding creative ways of using the Internet that doesn't involve searching for jobs on the limited number of job search sites that I've bothered for about a month now.  Procrastination is something that I'm very familiar with, so this is nothing new.

My most recent procrastination is Here's the Story, specifically their podcasts.  I don't usually listen to podcasts, mostly for unknown reasons.  I guess I just feel like I should be doing something else at the same time.  Even though I'm procrastinating, I'm a very efficient procrastinator who does lots of things while she's procrastinating.  So I'm writing this blog post while I'm listening to stories from Here's the Story and I just finished up writing Poem-A-Day things while listening to (guess what) stories from Here's the Story.  It's a really neat show and I'm having a lot of fun listening to the stories.  It's quickly becoming a goal of mine to go see this show in person, and I'm really excited about this prospect.

I've been knitting a Hufflepuff scarf for my friend while simultaneously watching Dollhouse.  I'm getting pretty far in both the television show and on the scarf, so far that I'm almost halfway through the second season and the scarf reaches from the floor to my neck.  I am 5'5''.  Having a lot of fun with the show, especially when I can marvel at the acting talents of those who play the dolls because wow.  Just wow.

Additionally, I'm also starting multiple projects relating to my poetry, which is really neat, but I'm not even sure which one to focus on because I'm excited about them all but I don't have nearly enough hands to do all of them at once.  So really they're all sitting on the chair in my room in a stack of poetic mess, doing about as much as I am with regards to my job search.

A friend of my mother's asked me on Saturday night, "So how's the job search going, Brianna, does it totally suck?"  I had no idea what to say to that.  Well, honestly?  Yeah, a little bit.  I haven't heard from anyone, and the ones that I have heard of have said, "Thanks but no thanks."  That's fair, I can respect that.  The short version is that I don't have a job.  No job for Brianna.  I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm a little dejected, yeah.  So...I'm procrastinating for now.  Really hoping that the procrastination blows over soon...because I need to get some stuff done.

"If it weren't for the last minute, nothing would get done."

- Rita Mae Brown

Streetcar Poem

This Monday, I'm going to a local writing group at a library near my house.  They come up with a theme each month and you have to write on the theme.  This month's was "streetcar(s)," and I had no idea what to write.  So I wrote this poem that doesn't have a title yet, and already needs to be rewritten.  I'm kinda excited about the prospect of getting to meet writers in the neighborhood, and I'm sad that these meetings only happen once a month, which naturally means that I need to find more writing groups or start one myself.  I'm thinking every two weeks would be pretty neat.  So yeah.  Poem.

Streetcar Poem

If you hook up a trolley pole

to my heart and weld

roller skates to my feet,

maybe the wires would lead me

somewhere.

Electricity could prompt my pulse

to nudge positivity through my veins,

and my little roller skate wheels

could slide on down the road.

But don’t wires and cables

and those little metal valleys dug into the street

only go so far?

When I’m stuck, it’s you

who is Stella from “Streetcar”

while I’m Marlon Brando

screaming your name from the sidewalk,

tearing my hair in giant follicle fistfuls

because your window’s closed

or you’re just not listening.

Because your preoccupations

settle into your attention, reminding me that I’m passé

like the horse and carriage.

You’d much rather wrestle

with your concept of The Future illuminating

your computer screen,

never mind the chat box winking at you.

So when the pebbles lodge

in my roller skates

or the overhead wires cross and twist,

the only help I can rely on

is my own unwillingness

to stay in one place.

Because it really doesn’t matter

where the wires go

as long as following them means

I can find a Future for me.

On Decisions and Doormats

Q:  So what’s with the title?

A:  Well, I liked the alliteration.  And it felt appropriate for what I’m going to be ranting about today.

Q:  Oh really, is that so?

A:  Yeah!  You know what, Questions, you’re just a figment of my imagination, so I would appreciate if you didn’t back talk me as much as you do…

Q:  But--

A:  Oh hush.

So sometimes I have a need to rant.  And that’s what this is for, right?  That’s a rhetorical question, so don’t worry about responding.

As a recently graduated student and someone who has just finished up an internship, it is generally agreed that I am an adult.  Being over the age of 21, I can legally consume “adult beverages,” purchase cigarettes, drive, and vote.  I have gathered just about every adult legal privilege that’s relevant to my life right now (I’m not entirely sure about when you’re allowed to rent a car or book a hotel room, if that’s a different age or what, so that’s why the qualification of “relevant” there).  So.  I’m an adult.  For all intents and purposes, in The Real World, I’m considered an adult.  Cool.

With the understanding that I’m an adult comes the understanding that I’m responsible for making decisions that affect my life.  I get to make the decision of whether or not I should go to the resume workshop at the library (which doesn’t exist, by the way, so any parents who are commenting that I don’t seem to be doing that this evening…you can settle back into your chairs right now).  I get to decide if I want to pull an all-nighter on what would usually be a school night, because I’m not in school right now.  I get to decide which jobs to apply for, how many times to bother the HR department about where my resume is in the pile of resumes, and whether or not to send a basket of muffins to the front desk to grease some wheels and win favor.

Something happens when you become an adult.  These decisions show up.  It’s your responsibility to make them.  You accept this responsibility, and you make the decisions.  It just happens in some weird natural understanding that this is your life and it’s your job to make these decisions.  Right?

Wrong.

I’m not sure how it happened, but I've somehow surrounded myself with people who seem to think that I am incapable of making my own decisions.  Maybe it’s my own fault, maybe I shot myself in the foot when I sold myself as “indecisive” in my relationships with people, letting my friends decide where we went for dinner or what movie we went to see.  If that is truly the evidence that these people are using upon which to base their opinion that they don’t think I can make my very own decisions, I feel like their assessment is flawed.

Let’s look at this example:
(This is a typical conversation.)

FRIEND:  Let’s go to dinner!

BRIANNA:  Alright, when and where?

FRIEND:  I don’t know.

BRIANNA:  You want me to make a decision…you know I don’t do decisions!

FRIEND:  Well alright, let’s go to Chili’s, you pick when.

BRIANNA:  What part of “I don’t do decisions,” did you miss?

FRIEND:  Haha.

Alright.  Looking at this example, you can see that I’m probably a little more stubborn and irritating than I’m giving myself credit for, but you get the idea.  In my defense, this is a joke.  I’ll make a decision, but in this case, I don’t want to make a decision that would be found disagreeable to the friend I’m meeting up with.  THIS is a trivial decision.  So.  If I’m incapable of making a decision of where to go for dinner, clearly that must mean that I’m also paralyzed in the face of larger decisions of what I want to do with The Future, right?

Wrong.

Those who assume that are those people who I will be tacking up on my dart board and pitching sharp objects at until their pictures fade or spontaneously combust from the heat of their own bullshit.  Frankly, I’m insulted by these people’s assumption that I am incapable of making the adult decisions that I’m supposed to be responsible for right now.

Alright.

To all those who are “looking out for me,” please stop.  Or talk to me.  Please don’t take actions that strip me of decisions because you think that’s going to make things easier for me.  At this point, I really don’t care what “easy” is, because I’m just trying to figure out how and who to be and I don’t really want to be the person who did what was easy because I had someone holding my hand the entire time.  Please remember that you are a part of my life, but you are not the person who gets to determine what path my life takes.  That is my responsibility, one that I accept and really want to hold on to.  Hell, there are people out there in the world who don’t get to determine the course of their own lives, and I’d like to exploit my privilege to do so with mine.  Do not treat me as a child, do not chide me if I choose to ignore your advice, do not make decisions for me.

To all those who consider me a doormat or indecisive, assess the decisions that you are basing your opinion upon.  Is it a trivial decision?  Is it a life-changing action decision?  Re-assess, re-evaluate, get back to me.

“Crying is all right in its own way while it lasts.  But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.”

- C. S. Lewis

Stress

Let's face it, this post has been a long time coming.  We all knew this was coming, and now you people who actually read my blog can rest at ease because it's true, I'm stressed and I'm going to be writing about it.

After the end of the Disney College Program, I found my way back to my hometown, which means that I'm living with my parents.  This doesn't feel like it should be a really big deal, but with my brother returning to university, I'm (for all intents and purposes) an only child.  I mean this in the sense that my parents' attentions, concerns, aggression is all concentrated on me.  I've only begun to realize this now.

(BRIANNA sets about packing up a bag with her laptop and other things.  DAD comes down the stairs, just woken up.)

DAD:  Where are you going?

BRIANNA: The library.

I understand that it's a parent's job to know where their child is, and I understand that they're really just looking out for me and worrying because that's all part of their job description, but I've never given them reason to worry about me, and it really shouldn't matter where I'm going because it's broad daylight, I'm a responsible pseudo-adult, and I don't have any bad influence friends to meet up with.

That's another stress that I have.  Once again I've sunk into the feeling that if I contact the friends who are nearby, I'll be bothering them.  Only a couple of my friends have steady work right now, so I really shouldn't be worrying about this as much as I am, but there it is.  I need to see people every now and again though, because otherwise I get lethargic and sink into a funk.  Which I've been on the verge of doing multiple times right up until I go to the library for some sort of human interaction with the lady who checks out the movies I'm torturing myself with.

Because there it is, the broken heart that I'm nursing.  And the cliche of saying it makes me weep more than the actual thing, so I've been telling people that the reason I'm so cold all the time is because my soul is made of ice and I don't have a heart anymore.  Because frankly, that's what it feels like.  I'm quick to cry, and I sit there remembering good times on loop.  I feel like the epitome of a romantic comedy heroine who's stuck in the misery montage with no hope of pulling myself out.  So basically, I feel not a little bit pathetic.  Through some terrible coincidence, I keep pulling romantic films off the shelves at the libraries and insisting that they'll make me feel better...and they don't really.  Which shouldn't surprise me, really.  I'm just at a loss there because no matter what I do, it hurts.  Everything hurts.  Doing things, not doing things, listening to music, skipping the familiar songs, writing horrible break-up poetry, avoiding writing poetry at all, reading, watching movies, talking, not talking.  Everything hurts, and it feels like my insides are frozen and my outsides are burning up.  Like my skin'll just turn into steam and escape through the roof and the rest of me'll just freeze and connect with concrete.  I have no idea what to do to fix this.

Oh, and money.

(BRIANNA comes back through the back door, bright and excited from a lunch with a friend.  MOM is playing a Facebook game on the computer.)

BRIANNA:  So my friend and I are planning to go on adventures in the city and maybe take some day trips out of town--

MOM:  Brianna, I'm not going to fund your fun.  I can't.

BRIANNA:  I--what?

MOM:  I can't fund your day trips and your fun.

Once again.  I understand this.  I have no job.  I should be looking for a job.  Preferably one that will pay me money.  With that money, I can have fun.  But at the same time, I need to have fun and see my friends in order to remain sane or run the risk of becoming a hermit.  That's ignoring the fact that hermits can have friends.

Well, if I were a hermit and friends with The Doctor, things would be different.  Point being, if I don't leave the house and have human interaction, I feel less human, more stressed.

And then I'm looking for a job.  I don't even know where to start, so I'm making it up as I go.  I keep forgetting that I'm supposed to call to follow-up and make sure that places got my resume after all, and I constantly lose track of where I applied anyway no matter how many lists I keep.  I'm looking at positions in libraries, small publishing houses, and universities, anything that I might be vaguely interested in.  Once it starts warming up, I'm planning on knocking on doors all up and down the streets where the small businesses live nearby my home, but I'm really hoping that it doesn't come down to that.  And all I want to do is write.

What it all boils down to is: I'M STRESSED!  Living with my parents is a weird dance thing that I have to do so everyone retains some semblance of happiness, I have no friends, busy friends, or friends I'm afraid to bother, I'm looking for a job, dealing with a broken heart (or lack of a heart), and wanting to write.  And there it is.  So now I've spent 20 some odd minutes writing this post instead of searching for a job while I've been at the library, but you know...it kinda helped in a weird way?  Happy Tuesday!

"To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan and not quite enough time."

- Leonard Bernstein

Half

Today is my half birthday.  Considering I'm over the age at which we answer the question of "And how old are you?" with "I'm seven and a half," you'd think that I wouldn't really care or even remember that it's my half birthday.  In fact, the sheer fact that my real live birthday will be in six months should be terrifying because I'm getting old.

But the fact is that right now I don't really mind getting old.  Right now I'm more worried about growing up.  And I know I've written about this multiple times because it's a constant concern, but I'm going to write about it again because I feel like it.  And the number of people who read this blog will be thrilled that I'm writing and everyone else won't be effected, so blah.
Recently I got a Christmas present with the theme of "growing up versus growing old."  And I've decided that I'm significantly more okay with growing old.  Mostly because it's only a matter of time before I can say, "In my day, we didn't have all those new-fangled gadgets and gizmos..."  Because that's really one of my main desires in life.  So this gift had little things that remind me what it's like to be a kid and actually play because there are these boredom buster cards and these story dice.  You know, I could probably post a picture...

Look at this really awful picture!  Yay!

Alright.  So we've got the deck of boredom buster cards which are brightly colored and beautiful.  The story cubes which are going to be a ton of fun to play with.  The picture frame to illustrate our friendship, and Barbie: Island Princess to remind me of good times had while watching cheesy Barbie movies.  All packed into a box that reminds anyone who's remotely familiar with Harry Potter of the letter from Molly Weasley to the Dursleys.  Basically this package made my day and filled me with happiness.

Because let's face it.  As life goes on, I'm going to be writing my very own story.  Whether it be the story of my life, or the fictional accounts that I write on this blog, or poetry.  And sometimes I'm going to need some inspiration.  And even then "adult life" could still get boring, so I'm going to need some way of combating that boredom.  Through it all I'm always going to have the friends that mean the most to me and who stick with me.  And sometimes I'll just need to laugh and remember what it's like to be a true kid instead of just a kid in an adult's body.

What it all boils down to is this: I may be growing older, but I sure as hell am not growing up.

“All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, ‘Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!’ This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.” 

- J.M. Barrie in Peter Pan

Grounded

On the morning of takeoff, the air was so filled with fog it would have put Natasha Bedingfeld's "pocket full of sunshine" to shame.  We could barely see the runway where we were standing let alone the lights bordering it.  I just figured my vision was blurring because I'd always been afraid of how tall I was, and seeing the ground blur in a gray blanket and losing sight of my feet seemed like a logical extension of my terror.

That morning you were already questioning whether flying with me was a good idea in the first place while I warmed up my arms by stretching them out and trying to flap them around.  These questions swirling around inside your head like a little kid's science project were muted, and I wouldn't have been able to hear them over the fog anyway.  One thing I knew: if you were flying, I was flying.

And I used to think that I was already flying around because standing in the middle of a runway in fog already feels like walking on clouds, so why did I feel so rooted?  My arms made pretty pathetic wings, all scrawny and featherless, but you never saw that as a problem because you subscribed to the belief that all you had to do was throw yourself at the ground and miss.  I was trying not to think about what would happen if I didn't miss, because I didn't know if trying to purposely miss would defeat the purpose of missing in the first place.

But even if I didn't miss the ground, I would miss you.  So I guess it's lucky that morning we were grounded even if takeoff is still in your flight plan.

Thank you to Sunday Scribblings for the prompt: Grounded.

"And if I'm flying solo

at least I'm flying free.  

To those who'd ground me, 

take a message back from me.  

Tell them how I am

defying gravity."

- "Defying Gravity" from "Wicked"

Between You and Me

Between you and me and the Internet, let me just say that I'm scared approximately out of my mind, so I'm not really sure where my mind is going because when I'm thinking I'm thinking down eight different paths, and I can't follow any one of them to their logical conclusion because that's when I realize I don't know.

Anything, really.

So between you and me and the Internet, allow me to say that publishing these fears and emotions across an open forum where anyone who can use Google and knows my name will find it scares me just as much as any one of the pages in my choose-your-own-adventure book.

Between you and me and the Internet, I want to move to the city with you so I can see the skyscrapers in the reflection of your glasses.  I want to find that greasy spoon diner where we can go for breakfast every week and where the coffee tastes like mud, but you drink it anyway, and I make fun of you because tea is so much better.  Or hot chocolate.  I want to curl up on a threadbare couch with barely any cushion to it and sleep curled up in your arms because it's safest there.

Between you and me and the Internet, I want to spend days going through every single one of my Poem-A-Days and tack them all over our walls just so I can see if they'd be good for wallpaper.  I want to read your poetry all the time or at least keep it in my purse for rainy days.  I want to drive you to work and drop you off on the corner and do circles around the block until I need to pick you up again.  I want desperately to make out on public transportation and claim no regrets because I don't think I could ever be ashamed of that.

Between you and me and the Internet, I hate the carpet in your basement, or at least I don't like it as much as you seem to, but I would be willing to sit on that floor if it meant sitting with you.

Between you and me and the Internet, I love you like mad and all it takes is a Facebook post to make it official.

Thank you to Sunday Scribblings for the prompt: Between You and Me.

The Future

We're all afraid of it to some extent.  My boss told me last year that I'm perpetuating my own fear of The Future by capitalizing unnecessarily in my Twitter hashtags and whenever I refer to The Future.  Like right now.  The Future.

As a new graduate from university, college, whatever you call it, The Future is staring me right in the face.  When I think about it, it feels as if I need to make decisions about The Future, which makes sense.  Choose your fate, all that jazz, because we make our own fate, right?  But when you pick a path, don't you eliminate the possibilities and the potential of the paths that you could have chosen in the first place but didn't?  I have ideas, and some of them are silly or downright crazy, but I'm afraid of picking just one because I would have to commit to just one idea.  I don't want to limit myself.  Which is all well and good, but when The Future is standing nose to nose with you and you're still avoiding eye contact...it gets a little awkward.

I know one thing for sure.

I want to write.

I don't really care what else I do to maintain time and funding for writing, as long as it doesn't suck out my soul and leave me too drained at the end of the week to do anything but sleep.  I'd really love to be able to do something that makes me happy, and inspires me to write.

So the things that I've been thinking about for The Future all go in different directions, but these are my thoughts because I'd rather write a blog post right now than do the homework that I'm so good at procrastinating.  (Actually, if I could get paid to procrastinate, I would be richer than J.K. Rowling.)

Editor
I like helping people fix their written work.  I really like writing all over a piece of paper and drawing arrows and giving feedback about a person's work.  I like critiques.  I like workshops.  I like playing around with sentence structure and playing with other people's ideas.
I've been reading about book editors for the project that I'm procrastinating right now, and the majority of what I've read talks a lot about figuring out if a certain idea or book will sell and then selling that to the market.  This sounds a lot more business-y than I'm willing to be, and not a whole lot like what I've thought editing is like.  I'm wondering if I'm thinking of a different type of editing or if I'm thinking of lower level editors instead of the head honcho of a publishing company.
I don't really need extra schooling to be an editor or work in the publishing industry.

Student Affairs Professional
I really loved working as an RA at school.  I really enjoy working with first year students to help them figure things out, and I've always loved being a big sister or a mentor for those who are younger than me.  Though I say that I hate people a lot of the time, the truth is that I actually do like people.  I like being able to see that I've helped someone out, and I like being able to help people learn and develop.  My boss at school had a big impact on my senior year, and I want to be able to pass on that help to someone else.
I've talked to my boss and people who I know who are in this field, and their passion for their work is infectious.  It's one of those things that I get really excited about in bursts, and then get lost in trying to figure out how to do it.  There's probably a lot more administration and paperwork to be done in this field than I'm thinking, but being able to see that I'm making a difference or helping people would be huge.
I would have to go to graduate school, preferably for some college student personnel Masters degree.

Librarian
I love the library.  Though there are some libraries (particularly academic ones) that creep me out, I really love the idea of neighborhood libraries and how they could be a central hub for a community.  Creating community was a huge thing with me in college because I was an RA, and I would want to do things to create or maintain a community in a neighborhood because I think that would be really neat.  Plus I would love to be able to share my enthusiasm for books.
I'm not really sure what a librarian does outside of shelve books, assist with research projects, recommend books, help with homework, or plan community programs.  I've heard that librarians at academic librarians have to write papers and present them at conferences, but that's not really something I would be interested in.  I want to be able to help people somehow.
I would have to go to graduate school for a Masters in Library Sciences.  Which I have no idea what it means.

So what I'm saying is that if I pick one out of these three ideas, chances are I'm going to have to go to graduate school, and then I'll have to worry about all of those things.  I really want to be able to see that I'm making a difference in a community or a person's life or in their written work.  Another thing about these is that editors and librarians are sort of on a sinking ship what with self-publishing and e-books.  So I'm not really sure if either of those careers would look like something I would want to do in The Future Future anyway.

I suspect that I'm thinking too much, which is usually the case for these things, but I can't help but sit on that rocking chair of worry and get nowhere because it feels like if I'm worrying about The Future I can justify not doing something immediately.  What I'm saying is that I have no idea what I want to do with my life, and I'm not quite sure that that's okay anymore.  I'm getting bombarded from all sides with questions of what I'm going to do or who I'm going to be, and the only answer I have is "I don't know yet."  But that doesn't seem to satisfy any of the askers.  Trust me, it's not making me feel any better either.

"It's time to begin, isn't it?  I get a little bit bigger but then I'll admit I'm just the same as I was.  Now don't you understand that I'm never changing who I am."

- Imagine Dragons, 'It's Time'