Have you ever walked with ten cats on your head?

The library of the 4 month old I spend my days with is quite limited; which gives me the opportunity to memorize several pages of the four Dr. Seuss books he owns. So, today I was mindlessly reading one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish (one of his favorites) and I found myself stuck on two lines. "If you never did, you should. These things are fun and fun is good" 

Well geez Dr. Seuss, you sure did say a mouthful there. Now the lines previous are full of general Seuss absurdities like walking with ten cat's on your head, and flying a kite in bed. But, I think the challenge in that one line is one that can stretch all the way from the crazy world of Dr. Seuss right into your own decision-making life. I like to think of myself as a risk taker, but the reality is that is just not true. My diet alone is the best example of how I am failing at this challenge. I am working on making changes in that department, but I find this challenge to be more relevant the current life decision I have been trying to process for a week now; do I up and move to Florida, or not?

Two months ago I went to a tattoo parlor just down the street from my house and paid a man a hundred and twenty dollars to stab me with a needle for 30 minutes. The result? Three black birds flying across my collar bone. The reason? Because I wanted to remind myself to always take advantage of opportunities to travel and live my life. The inspiration behind the tattoo was the quote "Whenever I see a bird, I always wonder why they stay in the same place when they can travel anywhere in the world. And then I ask myself the same question."  Making the decision to go to Italy last year was a terrifying and exciting one, and the result was better than I could have ever imagined. When I came home I wanted to make sure I never forgot just how important it is to travel and take advantage of opportunities. Which brings me back to Dr. Seuss; If you never did, you should. Well I have never lived at the beach before, so I guess I should. Right? Well if Dr. Seuss says it, it must be true. And we all need a little fun in our lives. I am not ready to say with 100% authority that I will be a Florida resident in 3 months, but things are looking that way, and I think Dr. Suess would be proud.

Where's the love y'all?

First of all, keeping up with a blog is damn near impossible. I have been meaning to write something or other all month and just did not get around to it. Oh well, probably no one cares anyways!

Anywho, where's the love? Like for real where the hell is it? In the last few weeks there have been so many things that have caused me to ask this question and finally I decided maybe I should put my two cents in. In the midst of conversations based around sequesters and the debate over marriage equality, fights over who should be on googles homepage, and even puxatowney phils failed attempt at predicting if spring was coming early; my facebook news feed has been littered with hate one way or another. Either you hate Obama for not stopping the sequester, or you hate the people who made it happen. Either you hate the gay people in the world, or you hate the people  throwing their bible in your face. In today's news, you either hate Google for not putting a picture of Jesus on the cross instead of celebrating Cesar Chavez's life or you hate the people complaining about it.  Either you hate punxsutawney phil for saying spring was coming, or you hate the weatherman for inaccurately predicting snowfall. So again I say, where's the love?
Some of these issues are more trivial than others (I don't think the memes directed toward killing punxsutawney phil are at quite the same level as the people who hate you for supporting gay marriage) but hate is hate all the same. I don't consider myself to be a very religious person so I won't sit here and say that we should love thy neighbor as they self and you shouldeth doith it-ith. But what I will say is what good does hate do? Does posting that link about how making your profile picture an equals sign is stupid really make you feel better? Does buying into the garbage on the news about Obama and the sequester (and really anything else political) and then ranting about it on twitter really make your day a little brighter? Does forcing your religious opinion of gay marriage on others make you feel like you are doing your part to spread the word of God?

I don't really follow politics, and I don't really go to church anymore. That doesn't mean I know nothing, and it certainly doesn't mean I know everything. But what I do know is that with everything going on in the world today, there isn't any room for more negativity, more judgement, and more hate.  Sure everyone is entitled to their own opinion and that's what social media is for, but next time you post a status, share a link, or make a hashtag, take a second to remove the hate from whatever it is your saying. Let's restore some faith in humanity, lets treat each other with respect, lets spread some freakin love people.

Which way to the Candy Castle?

**Disclaimer: If you have never played the game Candy Land, not only are you kind of a loser, but this blog might not make much sense to you. But you should read it anyways.**

I just got finished re-reading the book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Well kind of, does it count as re-reading if I only got through "Eat" the first time? (and also what does that say about me??) Anyways, thanks to fancy technology, I was able to highlight everything I found inspiring as I was reading the book on my kindle (without actually having a highlighter anywhere in my house). There was so much in this book that I really connected with, but there was one concept that I found to be pretty awesome.

"People tend to think that happiness is a stroke of luck, something that will  maybe descent upon you like fine weather if you're fortunate enough. But that's not how happiness works. Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it."

What a slap in the face of reality. It's not just people who think that, it's ME. Like one day I will stumble across some crazy amazing opportunity which will lead me down a magical road through a sparkly door into the world of infinite happiness. That is so not how it works. Happiness isn't something you just stumble upon because it's your lucky day. I started thinking about the game Candy Land. In the game every turn you pick a card, and the card tells you what to do, which way to go; and you do it, no questions asked. Then if you get lucky you get Queen Frostine, and after just one turn your just steps away from the candy castle (also known as the world of infinite happiness, I mean it's a castle full of candy, come on!). If you're unlucky you can work your way one square at a time to get to that stupid castle, just to get sent all the way back to Jolly (that happy gumdrop freak) in the gumdrop forest at the beginning of the game. You were just a few squares from the castle doors, and now your back wandering through the forest eating gumdrops to make you feel better. Then there are the really unlucky who get stuck on those darn black dots praying for a double red so you can get outta there already and high tail it to hang out with the candy king and his eligible (and hot) son in the freaking candy castle. The bottom line here? Candy Land is all about luck, and that's just not how life works.

So if the great quest to happiness isn't like Candy Land, what is it? How can we find that magical castle door? Well first of all, we don't just pick a card, and report directly to the square we are assigned to. We make our own decisions, chose our own roads, our own opportunities. We decide if we want to stay in that dead end job because the pay is good, or do what it is we really love because the pay sucks but the reward in terms of happiness is through the roof. We decide if we want to stay in the relationship because we like the companionship, or struggle through being alone to get to the happiness somewhere else. Elizabeth goes on to say that it doesn't stop when we get to that sparkly door of happiness. She says "you must make a mighty effort to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it. If you don't you will leak away your innate contentment." Whoa, I don't want my innate contentment leaking anywhere.I think this might be the biggest challenge of all. Once you realize life isn't like Candy Land, you can do what you need to do, you can start trying to make the decisions you need to make to get to the point where you truly are happy. But, if you don't work hard to maintain that happiness, it will all go down the drain. So the challenge here isn't just working toward happiness, it's working ON happiness. Working to keep your happiness alive, to keep yourself afloat on the raging rapids that is your happiness. I may be a month late on this one, but that's my new years resolution. I'm gonna start working on happiness, and never give up on it.

Who Supports You?

So I am a HUGE Grey's Anatomy fan. To the point that occasionaly I jot down the dialogue from the beginning and end of an episode because Shonda Rhimes is just that AMAZING. Reading through them today and this one caught my eye:

"The human body is made up of systems that keep you alive. There is the one that keeps you breathing, and the one that keeps you standing. The one that makes you hungry and the one that makes you happy; they are all connected. Take a piece out and everything else falls apart; and it is only when our support system looks like they might fail us, that we realize how much we have depended on them all along. "

Having a support system is probably the most valuable thing you can ever have in life. Growing up it's safe to say your support system is your family. You might hate them at times, but tell me your parents didn't have your back when your "friend" told everyone at school who you had a crush on, or when you forgot your backpack in the car and they had to drive all the way back to school to bring it to you. They had your back, they were there for you. In a perfect world it would just be them forever. But eventually the drama just becomes too much for them to handle. By high school they can't keep track of who your best friend is this week, let alone what they are saying to everyone else about you. That's when friends start becoming your support system. They may only have your back one day of the week (the day your besties, obvi) but chances are someone in the group always has your back. Luckily  for me I had that same best friend seven days a week (most weeks), always willing to shoot someone a death stare on my behalf, or convince me I was better than that guy anyways. She was (and always will be) one of my strongest support systems.
Once college hit it felt like the support system of my parents was more financial and theoretical than anything else (keep reading mom and dad, I will redeem myself). My friends were the ones who were there for me. They gave the best advice on weather or not to go to class, and they certainly had the best input on who I should date. Until they didn't, then it was your boyfriend who knew best. Why would you ever think your friends knew you better than him?! (does sarcasm come across in blogs?). Until you broke up, and your friends were right all along. And that was the perpetual cycle.
Then you grow up. That's the part I'm in now. And here is what I have come to realize; my parents are my support system because they are my parents. I make decisions that they don't agree with, and do things knowing full well it doesn't follow the advice they have given me. But I do that because it's my life, and they are my support system, not my conscience. I do it because I know at the end of the day, even when it looks like they might fail  me, they won't. My friends are my support system because they are my friends. I don't always listen to their advice because I am stubborn and set in my ways. But they are my support system, not my conscience, and even when I make the same dumb decision for the millionth time, they will drag my butt off the floor, say "I told you so," and lift me right back up again. Even at that moment when I think they will look at me and tell me they are tired of picking up the pieces, that they aren't going to have my back anymore; they never do, they never fail me. So even though there are days I think going without that system that makes you hungry wouldn't be such a shame (and might actually help my diet), I know for sure that without my support system, I might as well just call it quits. Good thing I picked some good ones!

What do you collect?

When I was little I tried to collect different things; pogs, TY beanie babies; you know, the typical 90’s kid stuff. But, I am way to ADD to stick to one thing, so what I ended up with was a jumble of weird collections which my mom inevitably ended up throwing away because I left it lay around on the floor for too long. It wasn't until recently that I realized what I am collecting; homes.

When I moved away from home I started thinking about what really makes a place your home. My parent’s house is obviously my home because it’s where I grew up. I know which stairs squeak the loudest and I can tell you a hundred memories that go with each and every room. Then there is my best friend’s house. It’s my home because it’s where I spent half my time growing up (plus I know where they keep the snacks and how to work the tv). Of course there’s other places that became my home when I was young, my grandparents house where I learned to fall asleep to the sound of train tracks, or my aunts house where I went swimming every summer, the cabin we went to every year to celebrate Christmas with family. These places became my home because everything from them was connected to good memories, something I wanted to remember. When I was old enough to babysit I got some new homes. They were mine because I did the dishes, and fell asleep on the couch, but mostly because I loved those kids and took care of them like they were my own.

In the last four years I probably got more homes for my collection than the eighteen years before that. When it was time for college, when I really left home, I made a home of my own for the first time. My dorm was my home because it’s where I learned what real life was like, where I figured out that things were different without my parents around. Soon after that I got my own house with my best friends.  That became my home because it kept us all together, and happy. Four people who were away from our homes, making a new one of our own together. If I had to pick a favorite home, one to put up on a shelf away from all the others and shine a spotlight on, it would be this one. In those four years I got some other homes, boyfriends houses where I spent the weekends hearing stories about their childhood, or friends houses where I spent the weekends when I didn’t want to go to my own. These places became home because they were the homes of people I loved and I wanted to be a part of them

                Now I am in my new home, I have a pretty good idea of how long I will be here, and I know when this one has been added to the collection it will be time to find another one to add. There isn't just one piece of the puzzle that makes a place your home, but when some of the pieces are there, enough to make that place somewhere you never want to forget, then it IS your home. And if you don’t want to forget it; if you don’t want to lose it; you better hold on to it tight, and add it to your collection. 

Did I just miss the bus? (more importantly, does it matter?)

I’ve never written a blog before, but after a day of Friends marathons, chick flicks and Sex & the city I’m feeling inspired. I’m not trying to be the next Carrie Bradshaw or Nicholas Sparks, but there are some things that have been on my mind. The main concept behind them all today is time. Time’s an incredibly scary thing. During my 70 days in Italy I became much more aware of time then I ever was before. I had a countdown to the exact time I came home, I thought of every time on a clock in ters of the time it was in Bologna, and the time it was in Harrisburg. Military time quickly became my life, and by week 5 I think I had finally mastered the art of catching a train without running through a city like a true American Tourist. I became incredibly aware of the fact that if I left my “flat” a minute too late I would have to catch the 11C at 8:00 instead of the 11B at 7:55. And sure the 11C got me there, but I had to walk extra fast to get to school before 8:30. So, as weird as it sounds the most valuable thing that happened to me in Italy was that I got good at time. You want to know what’s even weirder? I don’t just mean in the literal sense.

I used to spend so much time thinking about the future and worrying about what was to come and what I would do with my life. I’ve had a ten year plan for the last 4 years and I’ve worked so hard at sticking to it. I planned so many details of my life in my head that I didn’t actually have time to look at the things in my life that were happening. Before you know it, here I am a college graduate with nothing but a plan. Sure it’s great to have a goal and know what you’re working towards, but you can’t JUST have a plan.  But, I’m not scared anymore; time isn’t such a terrifying thing. I spent a week unemployed, applied to jobs, and got one. And as easy as that my plan changed, I adjusted, and I moved on. Besides that I have opened myself up to entirely different opportunities.  Living for the future and sticking to the plan is just asking for a nervous breakdown. And trust me, I’m a girl who does not need a nervous break down.There’s no use trying so hard to make a perfect life for myself ten years down the road. Instead, I’m going to focus on making life enjoyable for myself now. Sure I don’t have a job that I can “climb the ladder at.”Yes I rent a room from my sister and brother-in-law, and share a bed with my cat. It may not all be a part of the ten year plan, but for now I am going stick to being a part of THIS time, and try to avoid running around looking like an American tourist.

So the moral of the story, maybe sometimes I miss the 11B, but what’s so wrong with that? There is always another bus. And you know what, I still know where I want this bus to take me, I’m just not so worried about getting there on time.