The Dew of the Little Things

I sat with my back so straight I remember consciously thinking that the other students were going to think I was some snobby dancer mocking them with how good my posture was. I slouched a little bit, but couldn't maintain it, I was that nervous. My right index finger started to ache with how tightly I was gripping my pen.

"I don't belong here. There has been some terrible mistake and I am going to utterly disappoint everyone here and I will be a failure."

"What were they thinking? I cannot compete with the other people here. I don't even know if I'm a good writer. Actually I do...I know I can't write as well as the people in here probably can."

The "people in here" were a collection of twenty students from across the country. Only 20 students selected from the entire country to participate in a month-long internship in Washington D.C. with the World Journalism Institute. I was scared shitless.

I don't remember much else from that first evening except for one crucial phrase. It was after the director of the Institute walked in the room, full of energy and excitement, announcing that, "Each one of you are here for a reason." My ears perked up. What? It's not an accident that they selected me-ME-out of hundreds of applicants to spend a month training with the top writers, researchers, journalists in the field? I am here for a reason. There is a purpose behind everything even if I don't know it yet.

What I thought the purpose of that month was is different than what it has turned out to be. In my 20-year-old mind, the purpose of attending WJI was to hone my craft so I could eventually traipse across the world as a foreign/war correspondent the NYT. Obviously. Now, I'm starting to think that perhaps the main purpose was not so much about what I would do with the training I received, but how my life would be changed by the people I met. One person in particular.

One person who I have not seen since that hot summer in DC seven and a half years ago. Until three days ago. For five glorious hours, Holly and I nestled ourselves into a back corner of a French Bistro in a part of the country neither of us have ever been before and talked. And talked. And planned. And dreamed. And had an altogether natural, no-where-near-out-of-the-ordinary, it-was-as-if-we-saw-each-other-seven-days-not-years-ago conversation. Maybe it was the Skype dates in the not-so-distant past; the long distance phone calls, the emails and Facebook messages, the blog posts that meant we weren't catching up on the last seven years of our lives, but merely updating since the last time we had an in depth conversation (probably about a month ago).

I am more and more in awe of how I can call this woman my friend and that she's actually closer to me than some of the people who I have grown up next to despite the hundreds of miles that separate us. It's crazy to think that I would rather spend 16 days in a car with her this summer than with anyone else because I know she gets it. She gets me. She mirrors the passion I have inside to do something. To get up off our asses and affect change. To make a difference. To live boldly and purposefully.

I Adore This Girl

In this crazy, beautiful, stressful, adventurous, unpredictable, sometimes fucked up life, it is so rare and difficult to find a kindred spirit; a twin soul who will journey through with you whether that means laughing at your own stupidity or crying over it. We have seen each other through college exams and graduations, first jobs, first times living alone, first heart breaks. We have been able to talk through despair and death and sorrow. We have lived through multiple moves to multiple parts of the country. All with about 3,000 miles between us.  Yet, through all of this, we both have held on to an unwavering sense of hope. An understanding that there is a great need to be met and we will rise to the challenge.

One of my favorite writers/poets, Khalil Gibran, wrote it so perfectly in his poem On Friendship, "And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit....And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things, the heart finds its morning and is refreshed." 

That is why, with her notebook, calendar, and smart phone in hand, we mapped out the route we will take on our road trip, how many miles, how long it will take, what we want to do, what theme we will have. And while it's not going to be the entire country or the whole summer like we originally envisioned (we are, after all, responsible adults with jobs, pets, rent, and bills), I believe it will be perfect.

After Holly dropped me back off at my uncle's house and we were hugging each other goodbye, she said, "There's no way we can go seven years without seeing each other again. We can't. We have June."

We have June. Let the countdown begin. :)

Oh, and for the record, I wasn't a failure at WJI. My writing skills were comparable (sometimes better) than the other students there. Yes, each one of us was there for a reason.

Independent Woman

I love my new apartment.

I love not having any roommates. No parents. No one to take care of but me and Toki:

Toki is a magical cat who greats me every day at the door when I come home from work and keeps my lap warm when I'm watching a movie and my feet warm in bed at night. He wakes me up in the morning by sitting on my chest and placing a little paw on my cheek. This is Toki language for "Feed me." But, on days when I'm not feeling well (which have been a lot lately), he'll just stay curled up by my side, purring, and wait for me to wake up on my own. He's good that way.

But, this is not supposed to be about Toki even though I've totally turned into the crazy cat lady fallen in love with the majestic beast. 

Ultimately, I love the relaxation that comes from knowing that when I come home, everything will be the way I left it. I can be as clean as I want, but not stress if I leave my breakfast dishes in the sink. I can walk around naked. I can play the music as loud as I want. I can cook at one in the morning. I can dance like no one is watching and literally have no one watching. 

I love feeling like a big girl again. Not "I'm 27 and still living in my parent's basement."  I love not living paycheck-to-paycheck and actually feeling like I'm working towards things that I want....

....I just spent the last 15 minutes calculating debt-payoff and readjusting my budget. I figure if I cut my monthly allowance, I can be credit card debt free by May....just in time for and Epic Road Trip (please let it happen!)

Sometimes it's still depressing realizing how far behind I am financially. I feel like I should have some $10,000 nest egg squirreled away somewhere at this point and already be five years into an IRA. Am I the only one who feels this way? 

I guess technically I could be well on my way towards that if I had listened to my dad and stayed in his basement and not spent the extra money each month on rent. But (there's always a "but"), there is no price tag on independence and peace-of-mind. I think I would rather it take me a little bit longer to pay off the debt I racked up in Pittsburgh and Brooklyn and actually be content holed away in my Little Mansion all winter then pay everything off sooner but be in a constant state of pulling out my  hair. 

It truly is about the little things in life. And I am reveling in them right now.

New Obsession

"Expect the Trail to test you, both physically and mentally. Know your limits, and examine your reasons for strapping on a pack and tackling the Appalachian Trail. Part of the joy of hiking the A.T. is learning to deal with and overcome its challenges, to feel resilient and self-sufficient in a wild, rough place that has few of the amenities of civilized life. Don’t underestimate the Trail’s challenges — or ignore its timeless rewards."

This is my new obsession: to hike the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. Because, of course, I grew up camping and hiking and I am at the peak of physical prowess. Oh wait...what? Is that date on the calendar correct? Oh, I'm sorry, my bad guys. Today is opposite day!

Yeah, never been camping in my life and the extent of my hiking experience was climbing Mt. Wachusett one Columbus Day weekend when I was 15 and my family went apple picking in Western Mass. But, that doesn't matter, right? The lure of the wilderness is calling me!

This all started because I watched this faux documentary about this girl who needs to escape the pressures of her reality and sets out to conquer the trail. It's called Southbounders (Southie's are people who choose the more challenging hike from Maine to Georgia).
I found myself mesmerized by the beauty she saw, the fortitude she displayed, the challenges she overcame, and the love she discovered. I found myself thinking I want to find love on the A.T., go skinny dipping in a spring in New Hampshire, hike naked in the rain, and dance on top of a mountain. I found myself crying at the end of the movie.

I felt such a deep longing to experience something so extreme that the end result is nothing short of miraculous: me finally being exactly the person I want to be. Whether it's the A.T. or jumping in a car and just driving across the country, something's gotta give.

I talked to a dear friend of mine about this and about the cross-country road trip we've been planning for years. We talked about possibly incorporating a small part of the trail into our itinerary. We talk a lot about how we both need this trip and I'm starting to think that it's getting to the point where it can no longer be in the planning stages. We. Need. This. Trip! I need to cut all my ties and never look back and let the call of the open road take me to its bosom and draw all the poison out of my soul. I need to stand on top of a mountain with the clouds so close I feel I can reach out and grab one on which to float away. I need to see the beauty of this country first hand and the beauty of its people. I need to be reminded in the goodness of mankind and the kindness of strangers. I need to escape.

I can feel the wind blowing through my hair...it's coming. To use the catch phrase of my college advisor: Make it happen. Whatever obstacle, whatever timeline, whatever deadline is in your way, there are no excuses. Figure out a way to make it happen.

Spring 2012. I will make it happen.