Two years ago I had the worst easter of arguably my entire life.
It started with my car breaking down 45 minutes from home. I was frantically texting my mom trying to figure out my triple A account while simultaneously dealing with texts from just about the last person I ever expected to hear from. I eventually tracked down my triple A account number and called a tow truck. He was able to tow me to the nearest garage which was still 30 miles away from home. My friends that I was with had to get back on the road and couldn't wait to give me a ride, so I shamelessly called my cousin and asked if he could come pick me up and take me up to Salt Lake. In the process of getting my car to the garage my phone died, but the tow man was nice enough to make sure I had a ride before going on his merry way.
I walked to the nearest gas station and bought a charger (an Easter miracle they had one that fit my phone) and plugged it in behind the deep freezer holding ice cream sandwiches and drumsticks. I stood and waited for over an hour while a different cousin showed up to take me home. During all the commotion I missed the Easter dinner I was supposed to go to and instead ate a quesadilla and watched How I Met Your Mother on my laptop.
This year proved to be much better.
Katie was in town for her break between semesters at BYU-Idaho.
We made cinnamon roll waffles for breakfast.
We went to church.
(Sorry, no picture)
Shauna and I hosted our second Easter dinner for friends that are from out of state that included an Easter egg hunt.
We whipped up your traditional Easter dinner with ham, biscuits, asparagus, salad and potatoes.
Over President's Day weekend, Shauna and I caught the redeye from SLC to JFK.
It was the perfect getaway for the long weekend. We saw three broadway shows, survived a mini blizzard, ate plenty of good food, became well acquainted with the subway and enjoyed every minute of it.
There's something about the East Coast that calls my name. Part of my heart is scattered throughout it, floating around parts of New York, Boston, Virginia and the Outer Banks. I'd move there in a heart beat.
For as long as I can remember I have loved reading and writing. I used to dream of writing a book. A book that would fill shelves of local
bookstores. But there’s something incredibly
personal about writing that has always made me a little apprehensive. Sometimes even this blog discourages me. What if someone doesn’t like it? What if I make a grammar mistake? It’s hard knowing that we can put our
thoughts and feelings, sometimes our deepest ones, into writing only to have
it passed by or scoffed at. Much like
asking that cute girl for her phone number or suggesting to that cute boy that you
get together sometime, it’s putting yourself out there. It’s risky.
It’s scary. It’s thrilling.
I remember in sixth grade everyone in my class had to write
a short story. I wrote a story about a
ballerina named Jenny LaGare who had spent hours on end practicing and finally
landed her dream role of the Sugarplum Fairy in her town’s local production of
the Nutcracker. As fate would have it,
she fell and broke her leg in an ice skating accident and was unable to recover
in time to live out her dream. Her
biggest enemy replaced her as the Sugarplum fairy. During our individual project meetings my
teacher, Mr. Youngstrom, told me that I had a knack for story and plot development. At that young age and over such a silly and
simple story, it stuck with me through the years.
In college I studied Communication with an emphasis in
Public Relations. I was too scared to
emphasize in Journalism or to write for the school newspaper out of fear that my
writing would be rejected. Writing
assignments were always my favorite part of the curriculum in any other
Now two years after graduation I feel like I've hit a
rut. Not that I ever have tons to write
about or have done a lot of writing outside of this blog, but I can feel what small
amount of skill I may have developed slowly slipping away.
About a week ago a friend posted a job
offer. Her company was looking for a
freelance writer to write a few blog posts each month for the online marketing company
that she works for. It sounded like the
perfect opportunity. I would be given
topics to write about and it would be on the side of my full time job. I could hone my writing skills in my fee time
and in turn, build my writing portfolio.
I was asked to send two writing samples. I found and edited an old press release from
a school assignment and an old short story from this blog. I got them all ready to go and attached to an
email and could not hit the send button.
I knew I had to because I told my friend that I would apply for the
job. I waited one more day, read through
them each with a fine tooth comb and finally hit send. There it was.
My work, my thoughts, experiences and words. Hanging in space waiting to be rejected or
I recently turned the big two six. Yep. Twenty six years old. I eventually got over the fact that I am now officially in my late twenties and got really excited for this next year. After all, each year is always better than the last.
As always, when significant dates pass (birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, etc.) it allows for reflection. Has my life turned out how I imagined? Not sure. A pretty ambiguous question.
If I could go back, I would tell myself these 10 things 10 years ago.
I would let my 16 year old self know that....
1. In ten years you're going to be single and it's going to be OK. You are going to have to get used to incessant questions and statements like "Are you dating? Why aren't you married? I have this single friend, can I set you up? Boys should like you. I'd date you if I were single". Don't let it frustrate you. Take it as a compliment. Sure you'll be sans husband and children, but you'll have plenty of other accomplishments under your belt. It's hard in the LDS culture to know exactly where your place is or what to do when you start getting "older" and you're still single, but just enjoy this time. Work hard. Save money. Have adventures.
2. People are going to hurt you, and you'll probably hurt a few yourself. When it comes to the ones who hurt you, stop worrying. They more than likely aren't worth your time. But for every person that does hurt you, there will be plenty of good friends who enjoy your company and would never think to be mean. Apologize to those you've hurt.
3. We all have to put in our time and work a job or several that may not be our first pick. Deal with it.
4. Try new things. Move to a new city. Take chances. You'll never know unless you put yourself out there. You might just land a job at a great company.
5. Friends will come and go and that's life. You did nothing wrong. Life progresses and we move on. It is not a reflection of you or how they view you. But just so you know, at 26 you'll have some great people in your life.
6. Take time for yourself. Do things you enjoy. You will never have this much time for you ever. Figure out your priorities and use your time accordingly.
7. Some things don't go as planned and that's just the truth of it. Learn how to handle disappointment without it getting you down because there will be plenty of it.
8. Learn how to laugh at yourself. If you can learn to laugh at yourself you'll be able to let things go faster. You'll be happier.
9. It's OK to be vulnerable. Confide in people. Trust that they care enough about you. It's scary, but it's worth it. If you just open up you'll see how many people really care about you and would be more than happy to help you.
10. Be happy. There will be trials. There will be stress. But stay positive. Stay happy.
I often find myself wondering, like most people (hopefully), "why?".
After an exhausting day due to some disappointing news, I tried to distract myself and decided to go for a run (not to mention, this Ragnar in t minus a week and a half isn't going to train itself). Running has been nothing but freeing for me. It's helped me reach goals and prove things to myself. And I for one can vouch that it truly is cheaper than therapy.
I've had several memorable runs over the years that may or may not have included tears. Possibly one of those was tonight. Tears were streaming down my face and my eyes were burning as I ran through the warm summer Salt Lake night. When it hit me.
I could either sit and wallow in self pity over a situation that was over and could not be changed, or I could get over it and make the most of it and be hopeful and excited for whatever was next.
And let's be honest, my discouraging day wasn't even that bad in the grand scheme of things. I didn't get something that I wanted. Sure, I worked hard for it, but it wasn't given to me. It by no means compares to real trials out there. Like friends my age who have endured divorce, or another friend who has already buried his less than three year old son and his precious two and half year old daughter's days are also numbered.
I honestly believe that we are meant for good. To give, achieve and receive good. But sometimes, that good comes with some trials along the way. Sometimes we don't receive something good because something better is right around the corner.
Blame it on the 80s kid in me (I was born in 87, that makes me an 80s kid, right?) but I am currently obsessed with neon and I couldn't be more excited that it is currently trending and showing up everywhere.
Neon shirts, neon oven mitts, neon scarves and neon nail polish. Bring on the neon. How can you not love it? It instantly reminds me of summer and it helps you look more tan than you already are.