resolution revolution

From mid-October to mid-March, I smile more than most. Things in Texas finally cool down and even better- calm down. There's something about the Texas heat that gets people all hot and bothered (literally, you filthy animals). But this.. this is my most favorite time of year. There is always something to say at the end of my sales calls- "Enjoy this great weather!"; "Happy Holidays!"; "Have a great New Year"; "Oy! Hanukkah is over already? I feel like it's only been 3 days!" Even the 4000 people in line at Old Navy on the last Saturday before XMAS were cheery. The world just has a pep in its step and I'm skipping right along, too. 

But once Christmas tidings have been spread and Granny's out of eggnog, the fun is over. I will inevitably open up any social medium on December 31st, find the devil of all posts: "New Year! New Me!" and think to myself: OH SWEET FRESH-FROM-THE-VIRGIN-MARY'S-WOMB ANGEL BABY JESUS, SPARE ME.  

These posts and the mindset that accompanies them poses two very poignant questions:

1. What is so bad about yourself that you feel the need to devote an entire 12 months to completely reinventing yourself? 

2. If said human flaws are so horrid, so tragic that a reinvention is actually necessary... WHY are you waiting until January to start the process?

I am human, not surprising to anyone; and I am a human with flaws. Should I run more? Probably. Should I drink less? Eh. Should I not swear as often? Definitely. But those are things that I should consider all days of the year, not just at the beginning of a new one. Now, some people need set goals. Some people need lists and sticky notes and ways to track their progress- helllloooo fitbit. But to those that are desperate to start anew, I beg you to reconsider.

I remember sitting cross-legged at cabin devotional at Camp Capers one really hot summer night and talking about "worth". We talked about things we didn't like about ourselves (which at 9 years of age doesn't touch what i have to offer at 22). We talked about body image and purity of heart and mean things those stupid cootie-clad boys said about us and the difference between complacent acceptance and the true embracing of our human flaws. It may seem intense, but I think the goal was to explore that then in hopes of instilling a way to combat the issues that were bound to sneak back up later in life *not sure it worked, but A for effort*. At the end of it all, we hashed out the notion that God didn't just accept us for who we are, but loved us for it and if He could do it- if He could see, understand, respect and love us for our exact make up (big ears and all), we should work to do the same for others, and especially for ourselves.

You are a living, breathing human with a real purpose in this life. Whatever your beliefs may be, that should hold true. We are in control of adjusting our lifestyle to smooth out whatever "flaw" we think we possess, but saying and believing that the person you are in this moment is unworthy of another year breaks my heart. (And for the record, if I voted to reinvent myself in my 23rd year of life, I would feel bad for the people that put up with me for the prior 22. Like.. I should've started when I was 4 before all the real damage was done, not wait until after the storm.) 

So what I propose, with all of my mighty blogger power to do so, is a revolution of the resolution. We, as humans, evolve every hour, every day, every year. I am not the same person I was this time last year. I don't even have the time nor energy to break down that journey so just take my word for it. But from what I've seen, felt, and lived through, I've learned that the most important, pivotal, essential resolution we can make is not to start from scratch or to budget more carefully- it is to break free from what's been broken.

According to the second chapter of Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, there are obstacles or burdens one inevitably encounters along the spiritual path. These are called kleshas and there are five:

1. avidyā:  ignorance; confusion; lack of insight

2. asmitā: self centeredness

3. rāga: belief that outer circumstances are responsible for good luck

4. dveṣa: belief that outer circumstances are responsible for unhappiness 

5. abhiniveśaḥ: deep seated anxiety; fear of death

Whatever it is that has happened, whatever it is that knocked you down- it does not have to control you or define you. It can and is merely an obstacle that hit you really damn hard straight in the face. So what makes your klesha any harder or easier to handle than another's? Nothing. It's just different. So what if instead of fixating on "flaws", the broken pieces of your life, by vowing to eat less or run more or not drink 4 cups of coffee daily, we resolved to fall in love with who we are right now and only strive to improve our minds, bodies and spirits if we choose to walk a new or different path? Just because something is broken does not mean it is ruined.

Your happiness is in your hands, as is your unhappiness. Do things because they add to your life, because they feed your soul- not because you think they will make you better. Because if we are being completely honest- we should question who dictates the definition of "better"?  I think what the world needs is a little more compassion for the unfiltered, imperfect, true-to-form human being. The things you do, the people you surround yourself with and the thoughts you think should all fill you up with love, not remind you of the ways you "don't measure up". Maybe the reason we can't love our neighbors as ourselves...is because we, in fact, do not love ourselves. 

 Enjoy your life. It is a beautiful gift, in all of its brokenness, and it is yours.
Give love and gratitude everywhere you go. Happy 2015, my friends. 

INVICTUS

It’s like riding a bike”- a cliche meant to reassure a person that whatever obstacle they are currently facing is, in fact, easy. You know what is easy? Microwaving Easy Mac. It is literally in the title. But as I sit here trying to think of activities, emotions, tasks that are universally easy, I struggle. For something to be considered easy, it must be the opposite of difficult. My company’s Marketing Director can whip in, out and around spreadsheets without even the slightest hiccup. They make me want to pull out my eyelashes one by one. Being witty comes effortlessly to Maggie, who has an unparalled sense of humor. I cannot even think about myself in the same capacity which my mother thinks about others- her thoughtfulness is unreal, y’all. Of course, there are some things that come naturally, easy to me; painting my own nails, doing anything with my brother (except wrestling where I inevitably get my ass kicked) and love.

Grief, however, is not easy. For anyone. It is not even kind of easy. It is hard, messy, and unpredictable. This is because there is no telling what will send someone into a grief-stricken oblivion. Being human means that we have different triggers. For some it’s the loss of a loved one; for some it is a cancer diagnosis; for some it is an ended marriage; for some it is an unpredictable birth; for some a broken high heel can really send them over the edge. It is not our place to say that someone’s trigger is any less traumatic than “typical” or “legitimate” hardships. You would be amazed at the things that can put me in tears. I cried in Bill Miller’s BBQ a few weeks back for heaven’s sake…and everything at that place is pure gold.

Grief is the way we process loss- regardless of the significance of that loss to others. I had an aneurysm. I started bleeding in my brain and actually almost died. And yet, I burst into tears one night in ICU, wailing to my mother that “I will never dance again”. (ps- my talent level pre-aneurysm was not enviable… by any means. Just so you understand that it was not something to cry over). But I have come to learn in the last 60+ days, that what makes grief so messy, so miserable for anyone has actually the same common denominator- the loss of possibility. Maybe it could’ve been prevented. Maybe it could’ve been delayed. But what is gone is gone and you’re left, often alone, to reel yourself back in.

I have learned a lot in the last two months, about myself and others. I have seen the true side of people, some of which I wish I could unsee. But I also have been witness to a level of compassionate, empathy and love that I’ve never known. The people in my world have restored my faith in humanity and in myself. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for those that brought me back to life. I was never left alone and that is the greatest blessing, the real champion in my recovery. But I’m not 100%. I may never be. The reason I can’t say a lot of things are easy is because I had to relearn the “easy” stuff. Learning to walk as a child isn’t difficult because you’ve never known what it’s like to walk. Trying to teaching your legs to move normally when it once came easier than breathing is hard. And while I am grateful every day to be alive, to be back in Fort Worth navigating my twentysomething world, to have a support system unlike most—it does not mean that I am not grieving the loss of the abilities and a life I had before 3pm on August 1.

Someone told me that they admire my “strength” like it was a gift I was born with. I was born with two legs. I was born with a big nose. I was not born “strong”. I don’t believe you are deemed weak or strong at the beginning. You do not come out of the womb capable of being a successful single father. You are not destined to kick cancer’s ass. Some people may disagree. There are people I know who think that we are born equipped to deal with whatever obstacle is in our life’s “plan”. I don’t buy it. I don’t think I am any more capable of surviving an aneurysm than anyone else. I don’t believe that my brother was born with Down Syndrome because my parents were “made” to handle it. You don’t lose your spouse because you’re strong. You don’t have a sports career ending injury because the universe determined you capable of moving forward at conception. Things, good and bad, happen to good and bad people every day. The way you respond is a choice. It may not be a conscious choice, but it is a choice nonetheless.

Of course, I believe in destiny. But I believe that each person has the potential and ability to determine their own destiny. If there wasn’t a choice, a choice wouldn’t be presented. Choices change the course of our lives every second… thus why time travelling is so frowned upon. You alter a moment, you decide differently, you change the course. It’s that simple.

I may be naïve. I am certainly clouded by my own grief. But to me, choosing strength is the same thing as choosing happiness. You may not feel it all day, every day… but you should aim for a daily glimpse or two. We all live in an uneasy reality; one that is marked by living through moments that are so internally traumatic, yet almost undetectable to the onlooker. But adversity, like grief, comes in many shapes and sizes and severity. No one chooses adversity, but you always have the ability to choose strength as your weapon of choice when adversity comes knocking. William Ernest Henley believed in the potential of the human spirit. He believed that it can be indefatiguable. He believed that strength, while rooted deep in our souls, was a choice. Because of those beliefs and because he made the same choice for himself, he wrote “Invictus” (translation: unconquerable)

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul. 

You, me, friends, family, and strangers alike are all innately unconquerable. We all have the potential to succeed, to survive and to thrive in the midst of the most unimaginable adversity. Choice, not chance, determines our destinies. You are the master of your fate. You are the captain of your soul. The only thing you have to do is chose to reach your own potential, trusting that your intentions are good, your eyes are clear and your heart is full. Then, and only then can you not lose. 

Ain't It Fun?

In world of blogging, a 4 month hiatus is just plain shameful. The inability, regardless of circumstance, to write regularly can only mean one of three things: 
1. you suck
2. you're a rookie
3. you don't actually care 

Considering TCT has been live for only one year, I'm obviously a rookie. Not the Andy Dalton kind though-more like Steve DeBerg circa 1978.  Number one is true because I totally suck for letting my absence get so out of hand. If this blog was my cable bill, Charter would have cut my ass off a long time ago. But as far as the last conclusion goes, FALSE. I absolutely DO care. Don't get me wrong, people. There are a lot of things I honestly could care less about ... including but not limited to: professional soccer, calories in a McDonald's cheeseburger, having only 23 songs in my iTunes library, the dead potted plants on Merida's front porch, etc., etc. This blog, however, is cared about. But I won't complain because in the eyes and eternal words of Meat Loaf, "Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad".

In my defense, my last post was exactly 51 days prior to graduating. I have no earthly clue where those 51 days went. And as I sit at my clusterfuck of a dining room table aka "home office", I'm dumbfounded. Two months month and 51 days ago I was bitching about proverbial hall passes, quoting random famous men, and preaching about the glories of growing up. NEWS FLASH:

Today marks the two-month anniversary of being a fully-employed college graduate. (PUKE to those couples that celebrate month-iversaries, though. Those are nauseating. This is okay.)

There are no random men to quote here. There are no hall passes, proverbial or tangible. There's just me, my two laptops (yes, I need both to be mildy productive), a headset that would get NASA's rocks off and 50+ hours a week of being an "adult". Shit got real and it got real fast. Hayley Williams gets it (click me). I no longer lay in bed awake at night justifying the inevitable skipping of that LAME 8am lit class. You know why? Because when you're 22 and working your way up the corporate ladder, you have to show up at 8am every single day regardless of your condition. Hungover? Too bad. Sleep deprived? Welcome to the club. Just not feelin life? Shut yo mouth.

And to top off this dose of reality... you know those random alumni who show up at football tailgates and bitch to those still classroom-confined about "appreciating the good ole days"? That will be me in September. 

BUT guess what? I'M SO EXCITED. Literally. e-c-s-t-a-t-i-c, ECSTATIC. 

Sure. The full-time career thing can dull a girl in about 3 days. All of a sudden your brain hurts, your eyes burn and your soul is as black as your fourth round of K-Cup coffee. Those cute reading glasses that you bought to channel your inner most "Elle Woods, Harvard Law Student" are now an appendage, not an accessory. If I could get an IV of B-12 to pump through my veins everyday, I would. And please do not get me started on a social life. It has taken two months of adjusting to even consider mustering the energy to think about going to Capital on a Wednesday. 

DeGroot said it best, "Growing up sucks ass." She's right. It's not SATC glamorous. I don't get to just write a weekly column and stroll Berry Street in my Manolos. But would I go back two years to relive my glory days? I think not. Would I start all over from the beginning? HELL TO THE NO. Here's 5 reasons why:

1. There is beauty to be found at the bottom of the totem pole.
Sure, wiping down dry erase boards and ordering lunch for meetings you don't get to attend is less than desirable. But those tiny moments when someone says "wow, you're a rockstar today" or "seriously, you're a lifesaver" or the Granddaddy of them all "thank you", it makes it all worth it. Plus, it's okay to mess up when you're at the bottom. Learning curves are real and reserved for new hires. It won't last forever, so enjoy the leniency while you can.

2. You can totally have a dog!
This is probably my favorite reason. Having a dog while in college is s'cute. "Like OMG, let's go run the greek with Buddy the labradoodle and maybe those sexy porch-stooping Sigma Chis will be out there and see us!" But who is going to watch after the dog when you're in Cabo for Spring Break? Who is going to feed the dog when you go straight from your night class to the buses for a mixer? And let's be real, do you truly want to spend your tiny expendable income (aka leftover scholarship/grant $$) on dog food when every bar within walking distances has daily happy hours? I think not. Granted, working from home is PRIME for getting a new dog, but seriously- it's so much easier with a normal routine that doesn't include college life chaos.

3. Morning Glory
Most days I don't appreciate 7am. Most days I lay in bed wondering what I can postpone or eliminate from my morning routine to just spend another 20 minutes dozing. You know who does like 7am? The dog. Sam, INEVITABLY, rolls all 90 of his pounds into the remaining 3 inches he left me on the bed and nudges me like "I don't want to be rude, but if you don't get up, I will piss on your white comforter." Endearing, isn't he? 

That aside, when you are waning adulthood, there is something special, almost ethereal, about the quiet of the morning. It's the calm before the storm; the few moments before the universe kindly bitchslaps you into reality. On a really good morning, you're up before 7, leisurely sipping your first cup o' joe on the porch and for those few precious minutes, you can appreciate all that your life has blessed you with. It is almost like a really great dream: Life isn't so scary. Bosses aren't so intimidating. There is money in your bank account. Your hair blow dried itself. Writing brilliant posts for your company blog is easier than breathing. Catch my drift? Of course, those moments won't last forever, especially if rent is due that day. But for a moment, for a small slice of your day, you can breathe a little and have the confidence that you won't single-handedly burn the company to the ground that day. The mornings are now glorious and there is nothing as precious as 7am on a Saturday before the entire world is awake. When you treasure this, you know you are a card-carrying member of The Grown Up Club.

4. Peer Pressure ain't the same
In college, I always felt pressured to go out and be seen. No mixer went unmixed. No house party went unattended. No bar was left unscathed. If you weren't there and if there weren't pictures, it didn't happen. Let me be the first (and probably only) to say this: IT IS A LOT. There is never a shortage of places to be and I never felt 'excused' from going... except that one time junior year when my semester GPA crapped on my privileges, but I digress. Would I love to have an excuse to wear my ski goggles and tutu again? Duh. Would I love to be obligated to do it weekly? No. No. N-O. Peer pressure for grown ups is far more forgiving. If I had a really tough week at work, people understand my need to hermit. Weekends, for me at least, have evolved into a privilege- where what I do is my choice and no one judges. Once you get a handle on that 7a-7p weekday grind, you're bound to feel a little pressure to get out on the town. But let's be real: the only significant peer pressure for a twentysomething involves BRUNCH. And who in their right mind ever feels oppressed after bottomless mimosas and make-your-own Bloody Mary bars? No one. ever.

5. THE PEAK
If you actually know me, you have heard me say that I peaked at 9. That was a prime year for me. I was still cute, really smart for my age and didn't have a car payment. Hell, I rode a unicycle at Spurs games. If that isn't peak-worthy, I don't know what is. But the most important reason that I'm perfectly content not time travelling back to the "glory days" is because I truly feel that it can and does get better than that. Yes- Hangovers become significantly harder to bounce back from and drunchies DO count even if you don't remember eating 17 Taco Bell burritos. (Truth: the burrito calories do not count if you find it in the frocket of of your XXL sleep shirt still wrapped the next morning. I just don't advise eating it when you come-to at 11am).

But guess what? Who cares? You are a living, breathing *relatively* successful adult. You have the funds to actually buy decent beer. You don't have to shop at XXI anymore. You get to date other real adults who have more on their agenda than getting you drunk enough to go back to the frat house (unless that's your thing. judge not. what not.)

Will your friends start getting engaged, married and knocked up? Yeah. But if you haven't seen the movie The Wedding Date, do NOT discredit being a wedding date. Will you feel less comfortable asking your parents for money when you fail to budget correctly (or at all)? I hope. Will it suck for a while? Absolutely. No one actually wants to be a grown up. No one wants to have responsibilities, car payments or spring break FOMO. But, I hope that my greatest days, my greatest years are not behind me. I hope that I did not climax in life at 19. Because what does a girl have to live for if she's got 60+ years left of knowing that it won't ever get any more fulfilling than that one time she got stage and danced with Paul Wall?

To my bright, young, still-optimistic friends in school: Soak it up. Soak up every ounce of embarrassing fun you can. But do not dread "the real world". It will kick your ass at first, but I promise-- you will grow to love every second.

To my cynical, worn down, "I wish I could just stick it to the man" fellow grads: see y'all at happy hour.

Hall Pass: Denied

Once upon a time, I referenced a very old bearded man with a very wise lesson. No, not Jesus... Uncle Si. My post was about the overwhelming stupidity of twentysomethings. It is only right and honest to include myself in that genre because despite all efforts, I too am a twentysomething who makes less than lovely decisions all too often. But what I wrote about wasn't just how dumb we are 98% of the time; it was about the elusive mentality of invincibility and naivety-- too cocky to think we will ever get caught; too naive to realize we aren't exempt from the cold, harsh realities of life and relationships. These lessons suck. But I hope for your sake and my own that we get it right before it's too late.

"YOLO"  made its way to popularity and on spray painted t-shirts thanks to Drake (**can be found in tank form on any drunk spring breaker. chances of seeing this are inexplicably correlated to the exponential level of douche-bagginess. #math). But "you only live once" didn't leave the impression on twentysomethings the way it should have. We should've let it sink in, focused on the big goals we have to aim for, acknowledging the way our lives affect the people in our world and how to constantly make the best choices each day so if/when life ends, we can at least say we tried. But instead, we took it as a lyrical hall pass to do whatever the hell we wanted because "life is short". But, I can't blame Drake for our idiocy. Twentysomethings are notorious to looking for anything and everything that resembles a hall pass. But that is just not how life works. You don't get to play with fire without ever getting burned.

The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn.  ~David Russell

I'm not talking about deciding to drink during the Super Bowl and then knock out a situation analysis after. I'm not talking about deciding on spring break in Panama City or raging at SXSW. I'm not talking about the bullshit. I'm talking about life choices; decisions that shape your world, your future, your people.

I'm talking about your gut. If you watch NCIS, you would know that the "gut" of Jethro Gibbs is never wrong. If you knew me, you would know that my intuition is borderline creepy-accurate. I know when something is wrong.  I know when people are good and when people aren't. I know when the world, "my world", is warm and safe. I just know these things. I can feel it. I can sense it. It is all-consuming and unavoidable. But I'm not psychic or perfect (kind of, sort of, not really). I have been known to ignore my gut. I don't always lead with my best foot forward. I follow emotion instead of reason. I follow my heart despite unrequited love. I leap without worrying about a safety net. But the difference is that I strive to make choices with only the best of intentions.

Can you say the same for yourself?

Life is so damn unfair. All day. Every day. The universe is a cocky SOB that says "challenge accepted" every time you think "could this get any worse?!" But there's a catch to that cliche-- the really unfair part that is we, especially twentysomethings, have a preconceived notion that it should be fair, that life should be easy, that we are being punished, not blessed, when the going gets tough. And to those who think their poop doesn't smell, to those that think unicorns exist and to those that respond "like I just can't" when life throw ya for a loop: GROW. UP.

Be sad. Be mad. Be upset. But then grow a pair and get over it. Life really is short (just ask my dad who had to bury our family dog this morning). To my fellow seniors, we have 51 days left until we walk the stage, secretly laughing because no one knows how we made it this far. We have 51 days until the world expects us to put on that suit, quit binge drinking and sign up for Match.com. ( ps- if you have been waiting for me to join the online dating world, you've got 3 years left. i ain't facing that demon until 25) But just because we have only 51 days left until graduation does not negate the reality that most of us have 8 more YEARS of being insanely selfish. Find what/where/who makes you happy and fight like hell for it.

DISCLAIMER: do not fight for the past. do not fight for the shoulda, woulda, coulda. fight for something/someone/anything that is worth your soul.

The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new. ~Socrates

The world spins on the principle of inherent tragedy. But you, any of you, and especially Gen Y-ers are MORE than capable of surviving and thriving. As RJM, my beautiful, graceful, SMART (not dumb) gazelle of a best friend, said yesterday, "Never knock the lesson, sisterfriend". If it hurts, if it's hard, if it sucks the living hell out of your soul, don't worry. Be grateful that the Big Man Upstairs thinks you are strong enough. Be grateful for the struggle- it's real but it is ALWAYS damn well worth it.


PPS- Did I mention that we graduate in 51 days? Holy shit, Batman.

Shia gives apologies a bad name

My love for following celebrities is real and true-- not in the way that, once carefully written by Nicholas Sparks, totally negates the creepy connotation of stalking. It's borderline obsessive, completely unnecessary and all-consuming. I record TMZ if I'm going to miss the broadcast. I follow everyone worth following on Twitter. I Insta-stalk like it's my damn day job. Obviously, there are a beaucoup of things I could do with my time that would deem "more productive", but I'd really rather not. I'm a gawker and I ain't even a little sorry. ( I also blame my mother for this). 

That being said, this Shia LaBeouf plagiarism scandal has captivated my full attention. To recap: Shia allegedly copied a BBC staff writer's review of a Nirvana album as his own review for Cage's new album. Pretty casual stuff, right? Wrong. Plagiarism is the marijuana of legality: a gateway drug. Shia went on to allegedly completely rip off comic creator, Daniel Clowes. It wasn't a 7th grade attempt at sneaking in passages from Wikipedia to your book report, either. Shia made a short film, "HowardCantour.com" that paralleled Clowes' "Justin M. Damiano" storyline "beat-for-beat" (according to MTV.com). Which, in case you were wondering, is not kosher. You can't just steal someone's work and pass it off as your own. I'm not sure what Shia is going through-- amensia, Brit Spears 2007 breakdown, a little Macaulay Culkin drug thang-- but something is fishy. Or maybe this is one giant publicity scheme about the lack of originality or the right to express yourself through already existing works in pop culture today. It's probably some version of the latter and we are just pawns in the joke. Stick it to the man, Shia. Whatever.

But the real kicker of this entire scandal is Shia's version of public apologies. Now I know I just ranted about plagiarism, but this whole thing is such bogus that the his tweet apologies are honestly hysterical. See here and laugh along.

See, it is hysterical. Sure, it's a little offensive to plagiarize your public apologies in regards to your earlier plagiarism. But honestly, take a second and think about the statement that Shia making-- regardless of the offense, saying "I'm sorry" is such a cliche.

Please stop and close your jaw. I am not, by any means, saying do not apologize when you screw up. If you don't apologize for being an asshole, then you're a crappy human. But the reality of our world, the world of high speed, high tech, selfishness, is that apologies come fast, hard and often.  

How many times can Biebs apologize for being a hot mess? How many times did Kobe apologize for cheating on his wife? (because we all know he did... Vanessa's big, fat diamond screams "I'm sorry for being a cheating bastard") Reese Witherspoon got crazy and arrested, apologized and returned back to top celeb status. I can't help but wonder, will there come a day when, no matter how sincere, "I'm sorry" just won't cut it? 

To be honest, I really hope not. There are some days, some times when you just really screw up and all you have to say for yourself is "I am so sorry". I used to be one of those chronically annoying kids who said "sorry" for literally anything but one day, Steph whipped her head around to me cowering in the backseat and said "if you keep saying sorry all of the time, it will not mean anything anymore". That was the day I learned that apologies are more than "I'm sorry" . Apologizing is about accepting and acknowledging your wrong, admitting to it, admitting to being a crappy human, and then asking/hoping for the opportunity to put a bandaid on the wound and let things heal before the hurt party throws in the towel on the relationship.

Truth be told, I screw up on the reg. I always want to be perfect, always desperate to avoid disappointing the people in my world. But I fail over and over again. Luckily, I have some incredibly patient people in my world who tell me when I suck, tell me why I suck, and have enough faith in me that I will continue work harder to suck less. For that, I thank you.

Whether you are a brand new 21 year old (HBD Berg) or already retired in the Keys, be wary of the cliched apology. If you are sorry, say it. If you're not, don't. If you royally mess up and can't even believe you are such a terrible human and you should be banned from the world indefinitely, say that. Be dramatic if it's dramatic. But if you forgot to swap out an empty TP roll for a new one and your roommate throws it at your big, dumb head, put up a sticky note next to the roll holder for your big dumb head to remember next time and move on. The most offensive part of apologies is sulking, which only continues to punish everyone around you... Then you're the pain in the ass who screwed up and won't quit pouting. You messed up, you don't get a pity party.

And if nothing else, my dear readers struggling with the inevitability of screwing up during your twentysomethings, steer clear of Shia, but @Son_of_Fratter has some solid advice:

leave no stone unturned

Today marks a strange day for the TCU class of 2014. Today begins the real countdown to graduation. Today marks our last "first day of school". Today marks the beginning of the end. But more than the cloaked cliches of the painful reminders that we really are just getting too old for most of this shit, today changes everything. 

Unlike my peers, I spent the majority of this last big break in Fort Worth. I didn't get to go home and play high school reunion. I didn't get to travel abroad. (I did manage to up my reading glasses magnification yet again; #blessed.) What did I get was a perfect seven days in San Antonio with my favorite people surrounded by the contagious bliss of the holidays and 3 other weeks learning something insanely new every single day (the intern life is kinda cool sometimes). Sure. I wish I could've watched every episode of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman with Steph or seen my girlfriends more. But c'est la vie. I have no complaints. And lets be real, less time at home meant less opportunities to be bombarded with every almost-graduate's favorite conversation topic: The FUTURE.

If you survived the Neeley grind and got your full time offer from a Big 4, props. Saying "Oh, I signed with EY and will start in June" sounds a whole of a hell lot better than "Oh, I actually have no earthly clue about this elusive 'future' in question, but I've got some really solid happy hours penciled in for January." 

Many of my readers knew me in high school (and even during my peak years of 4th-8th grade). I wasn't "cool" until like spring of my junior year and even that is still up for debate. A lot of that had to do with the fact that I was always on a mission. I was going to graduate Summa Cum Laude. I was going to be Brahmadora Colonel. I was going to be involved and make a difference.  I was going to get to have my pick of universities rather than having to take whoever let me in (jokes on you, TCU). When I started four years ago, I was a History and Arts Administration major. I was going to curate at the Guggenheim. I was going to travel the world searching for groundbreaking exhibits and be the queen of the museum world.  I accomplished everything on my to do list but so much has changed as I brace myself to walk the stage in May with a B.S. in Strategic Communications and Sociology (that is Bachelor of Science, not bullshit). There's a little FOMO resonating as I look back, yet not one regret. 

Luckily for me, I only had one significant run in with a past teacher/mentor/favorite human, Andrew Arnatt. It was at the Oak Park HEB. (If you get that reference, you know it's a miracle that I only ran into one person I knew.) But on a late night whipped cream run (because you can't drink coffee and Bailey's without whipped cream), something changed my entire perspective on handling The Final Countdown. I chatted with Andrew about how old we both are, my TBD post-grad plans and lastly, my current PR internship with Consuro. His response to my work was, "They are lucky to have you as a writer, someone who doesn't shy from tackling a subject you know nothing about. The intelligence and creativity that you've shown me and apparently continue to show makes you invaluable." HOLY CRAP BATMAN. No, this is not a post of self praise, I swear. Most days of my world are embarrassing, ironically hilarious, and full of insanity. But this moment is how I imagine athletes make it to the pro level-- a by chance meeting with a "coach" that reaffirms where you're headed. Am I the next Carrie Bradshaw? Doubtful. (NYC isn't my scene). But what I've missed over the last 3.5 years was the foundation of who I am- a writer. Some people are great with numbers. Some people have a knack for fashion or environmental law. I truly believe that everyone has a piece of themselves that is as unique as a fingerprint. When you find it, don't ever let go. Maybe it won't get you a career. Maybe it won't make you famous. But I promise you, it will complete you. 

Where to next? Who the hell knows. I refuse to tell you people to "live in the moment" because that's impossible. And I won't tell you to "make the most of every day". Some days are meant for 12 hours of whatever marathon USA is airing-- I am a confirmed SVU and NCIS addict. I will tell you TCU students to get better about using your blinkers around campus. I will tell you to at least attempt to disguise the fact that you haven't washed your hair in two days with a hat or headband or SOMETHING. Above all, I will tell you to relax.

Just because you have found yourself at a crossroads does not mean that you have to run off in one direction or the other. You can sit there for a while and contemplate your alternatives. You can take in the scenery right where you're standing, and think about what direction you want to head towards. You can't know every obstacle you will face in either direction. Nor can you know every blessing that will make its way to you on whichever path you choose. That's why you have to just peacefully and harmoniously decide what you want, and just take it from there. Leave no stone unturned. When you're ready, move forward-- but not a moment sooner. 

Congrats to everyone on the new year and impending graduations (even 8th grade grad can be intense). 
Have a drink, take a load off and cut yourself some slack... you'll figure it out eventually.