Awaiting the struggle.
After my morning workout, as I sat down to relax with my computer and a cup of coffee, I happened upon this article by Huffington Post writer Mark Manson. In it, he says that the most important question a person can ask themselves is not what they want in life, but rather, what are they willing to struggle for.
Though I probably shouldn't admit this, this article's straightforward message hit me like a ton of bricks. Not because I've never worked for anything, or because I haven't experienced the particular satisfaction that comes from accomplishing a difficult goal... But simply because I've never looked at life in quite that way, in terms of struggling. Like most people, I'm used to asking myself what I want and answering with fair yet perhaps vague certainty. I want to attend UNC after high school. I want to travel through Europe. I want to work in publishing. But whenever I don't get what I want, I usually just chalk it up to fate. I complain for a bit, shrug off the disappointment as gracefully as I can, and rely on the old "everything happens for a reason" mantra to comfort my ego. It doesn't often cross my mind, however, that the things I thought I desperately wanted may have just not been worth the struggle to me.
To be completely and painstakingly honest here (because if I can't be honest on my own blog, when can I be?), I haven't had to struggle for much in my life. Eek, I cringe just typing that God-awful statement. Yes, I've had to overcome struggles. Who hasn't? But I'm talking about in much broader terms. Money, security, the necessities. I graduated from college in less than four years, but I didn't pay for any of it myself. I wasn't forced to hold a job while I was in school, and I never had to live off of Ramen noodles and peanut butter to survive (although, seeing as I'm a peanut butter addict, I can't say I would have minded too much). I was free to accept unpaid internship positions and gain experience in my field without worrying about making rent each month. I studied abroad on my parents' dime, and I'm currently living with them while I work to save up for my next travel adventure. So I guess you could say I'm one of the lucky ones, with a mom and dad who desired to give their children the opportunities that they never had themselves growing up. But now that I'm in my early 20s, I'm starting to regret being handed all my life what so many people have had to learn to fight for in theirs.
"Do or die," was the answer my friend gave me over dinner last Wednesday when I asked him how he managed to put in 70 hours of work a week on top of his college courses. For him, there was really no choice: If he wanted an education, he had to earn his tuition. If he wanted to eat, a job was the only guarantee of food on the table that month. I don't have many friends with backgrounds like Cody's, and our conversation was refreshing, to say the least. It was eye-opening and inspiring to hear that almost anything is possible for someone with enough determination; but it was also humbling, and I drove home holding onto a small sense of guilt that I haven't since been able to shake. The thing is, I've never known that kind of discipline; I've never had to. It's in comparing my own journey to those of admirably strong people like Cody that I realize a disheartening truth: At 22 years old, I have no idea what it really means to suffer or sacrifice for what I want need. And that both shames and terrifies me.
Looking back over the years, I'm reminded of how fortunate I've been to have supportive, loving family members who only want the best for me. I'm abundantly lucky/blessed/whatever you want to call it, and I try not to take anything for granted; I don't feel entitled, and I know that everything can be taken away in an instant. But sometimes I wonder how different my life—and mindset—would be if I had grown up without the level of comfort that was always provided for me... If I had grown up like my parents, living on love and not much else. I wonder if I would be a better person, a harder worker, a more independent spirit... I wonder if, at the end of the day, my small successes and accomplishments would be worth far more. But then again, I think, what's the point of asking those 'what-ifs?' All I can do is give back as much as I can and be grateful for the unique hand of cards that the universe has dealt me. A wise person recently told me that it's how we play those cards that determines who we are and what kind of lives we lead.
Come August, I will be completely on my own for the first time in my life, with my own place, my own job, my own goals, and my own challenges. I'm sure that making ends meet is going to be tougher than I realize, and I might be in over my head for a while. But to be honest, I don't think I want it any other way. Lord knows there's something to be said about working your way up from the very bottom. And damn it if I don't embrace that struggle with everything I have, because it's about time I discover what I'm made of.
Ready for round two.
They should tell you when you're born: Have a suitcase heart, be ready to travel. | Gabrielle Zevin
It's official: I'm heading back to Europe! Come July, I'll be traveling with a small group of young adults on a 20-day tour through the Netherlands, Germany, Czech Republic, Austria, Italy, Switzerland, and France. It'll be my first time to visit most of those countries, and words cannot describe how thrilled I am to explore them all. My past experiences in Europe were some of the best in my life, and I'm hoping this summer's adventures will be no different. The countdown has begun, y'all.
Photo taken on Bastille Day in July 2012.
A tradition is born.
Austin is full of hidden gems, just one of the many reasons why I love the city. Although it's only been about a month since I left, I couldn't stay away very long before road-tripping back with Kristen for a weekend visit. While Saturday was spent downtown with old friends, Sunday afternoon called for dessert and coffee with just the girls. So we stopped in to grab some sweet goodies at the new Royers Pie Haven on Guadalupe.
Reflecting on 2013.
Two thousand thirteen was a year of growth if I've ever seen one. It was both emotionally stimulating and draining, one of those Jesus-take-the-wheel (because this girl has no idea what she's doing) kind of years.
In no particular order: I finally joined Taylor Swift's band of happy, free, confused, and lonely 22-year-olds, only to realize that 22 is not as unfortunate an age as people tell you. After three and a half years, I completed my last semester of college (with all As, might I add) and graduated with a degree in English and journalism. I interned for Texas Monthly, where my passion for the magazine industry resurfaced and encouraged my dream to one day work full-time for a similar publication. I wrote for/managed several online blogs, including one that celebrates the great city of Austin.
In January, I experienced the Magical World of Harry Potter firsthand, thanks to my wonderful mother. When the weather warmed up, I headed east towards Florida again, but this time with my three best friends for a week of fun in the sun. I scratched both cliff jumping and parasailing off of my bucket list, despite my growing fear of heights. And I abandoned my comfort zone to spend three days on the lake with a rather large group of fun-loving Texas A&M grads, one of which caught my eye and made me laugh. (He's a keeper, this guy.)
I reminisced my way through wild wine nights with the Oxford buddies, late-night study parties at Kerbey Lane, and traditional Driskill Hotel brunches with my gals. I took a starstruck photo with my biggest onscreen crush and fueled my England obsession with countless episodes of Downton Abbey. I made an appearance at my first ever Vampire Ball (hosted by actual vampires), learned the steps of the West Coast Swing, and watched the Houston Ballet's performance of The Nutcracker in awe. I took part in the creation of a beautiful short film about life and love. In December, I said my goodbyes to Austin (for the time being) and returned home to Houston with a heavy heart.
I discovered what it meant to give all that I could to something much greater than myself, to let go of my fears, and to trust in the power of God's infinite love. I struggled to find balance in the chaos of the everyday, and I stumbled more often than I'm proud to admit. But alas, 2013 was the year of no regrets, only lessons learned and memories cherished.
Breaking the silence.
I'm about two weeks late in saying this, but happy new year, everyone! Now that I'm settled in Houston and have an actual routine established, I'll be paying my blog a bit more attention. I've missed it. In fact, if you couldn't tell, I've been rearranging again. Crystal Roznik, my new friend and super talented graphic designer, was happy to give the space a nice sprucing up... Just in time for 2014 to begin putting down roots.
The next few months are going to be a lot less hectic than the last several were, and I'm very much looking forward to having a normal sleep schedule for the first time in ages. I'm sure I'll miss college a little here and there, but for right now, I'm enjoying the simplicity of working a few day jobs rather than tackling hours upon hours of homework each night. Life is still exciting, still full of possibilities, but definitely moving at a much slower pace these days. Honestly, I don't think I mind too much.
Next up: a look at the past year. What a blessed one it was!
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