Life: Equal and Opposite

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Anyone who has ever taken a physical science class knows this to be true (theoretically, at least). Based on my own empirical evidence, I would say it's true about life, too.

I have come to learn that for every positive emotion and experience we are lucky enough to uncover, we too, must deal with heartbreak and sorrow in some form. And vice versa. The Buddhists call it Samsara, as I remember learning about in high school so long ago. It essentially means that in life, we will all experience ups and downs as we go along. And that's unfortunate, but also... fortunate. It is paradoxical by its very nature, as is life itself. Nothing can be done to change it. It can only be accepted.

We cannot live and fully experience life without undergoing profound grief and loss, precisely as we cannot live and fully experience life without feeling extreme joy and euphoria. The good and the bad must go together in equal and opposite amounts, in order for the Universe to achieve natural balance. Nothing exists without its opposite, and everything in the whole of the Universe is interconnected. Therefore, when something is tugged, another thing must give. When one thing gives, it is because another has been tugged. This means that when something is lost, something else stands to be gained.

Or at least that's what I have chosen to believe, so that I may articulate and explain to myself the human condition and all that it contains. We may not experience so much of one while never being touched equally by the other. Otherwise we would cease to understand the spectrum of humanity as we do.

Logically, then, that is why we must feel such pain in our hearts at times in our lives. We must experience loss and heartbreak, in order that we may better understand and appreciate presence and love. We must become attached so that we may eventually suffer, and so that our eyes may learn how to see beauty in strife. All of our experiences culminate in our becoming exactly who and what we were destined to be, contributing to the Universe in precisely the way we were intended to do. This must include the good with the bad.

No person is complete and fully formed -- ever. We all continue to learn and grow and change and teach those around us in every moment of our lives. But it would be amiss to assume that we could ever get near such completeness without a scar of pain running through us, constantly reminding us of the immense clarity it brought to our lives. Our pain makes us human, equally as much as does our love. One cannot exist without the other.

The more open we are to receiving kindness and love, the more vulnerable we become to being caused distress and pain -- each to precisely the same degree as the other. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Therefore, to love greatly means to lose greatly. And both mean to be transformed by experience. If love has the potential to cleanse our souls and show us beauty, then pain has equally as much ability to break our hearts and bend our spirits; the both of them working together in unison to deliver us understanding which catapults us to twice the level of being as we were before.

But how grossly negligent it would be to live a life void of pain, and therefore, void of love, in order to feel very little at all. What an insult to the opportunity the Universe has handed us -- us, the very mass of cells which combined in precisely the way it did, to make us exactly the way we are -- on this planet, in this world, with these people, at this moment in time.

The Universe has lent us a window of time, and we may choose to do with it what we please, be it playing it safe and guarding our hearts, or risking it all and feeling as much as we possibly can -- positive and not. To feel means to feel it all. Do not smite the Universe or squander the privilege it has granted you. Once the Universe has closed our window, our chance of feeling anything will be permanently gone.

Even after such pain has stricken our hearts, and so many tears have left our eyes, we remain with memories in the back of our minds and at the bottom of our hearts, which we may choose to recall at any moment for the rest of our lives. Our experiences have left us with unique scars which did not exist before, and which will accompany us forevermore. And sure, all that it would take in order to feel the pain, is to remember the scar and how we earned it. But that's true for gazing fondly upon the happiness it taught us, too.

It is imperative that we understand one cannot exist without the other. Life seeks balance. Attachment will always mean suffering, but it will also always mean the purest of joy up until the very moment when suffering arrives. And the beautiful combination of the two is what makes our experience in this Universe meaningful and unique. It would be wise to cherish them both, and to see the love which came along with the pain, while we can. After all, we, like all things, are only ever intended to exist like this, for a moment in all of the vastness of time. Eventually, we too, will change and be gone, transformed into some other capacity, equal in energy, but opposite in form, in order to give back to the Universe everything that we have been given during our time in this life.

What's In An Accent?

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A story

A journey

A struggle

A triumph

Ambition

Perserverence

Discipline

Bravery

Hard work

Relentlessness

Desire

Commitment

Allure

Fascination

Intrigue

Curiosity

Patience

Frustration

Questions

Acceptance

Hard Rs

Soft Hs

Impossible vowels

Inconceivable combinations

An accent is not a failure to speak another language

It is a deeper understanding of your own

A resilient effort to reconfigure your speech pattern

And realign the world view you've always known

It takes guts and courage

And you'll still mess it up

But damn it you're trying

And that's more than enough

Language is understanding

Rules of grammar don't apply

Communication is universal

Just do your best to get by

Every voice comes from

Somewhere else on the map

Every person has a story

From somewhere besides where they're at

Reactions to accents

Beauty or fear

The choices we have

When one lands on our ear

We all speak different

And that's just a plain fact

But our hearts beat the same

No division in that

Happiness, Stepping Stones, and Job Interviews: A Girl Who Refuses to Settle (But Still Has Bills to Pay)

I have been on six job interviews in the last five months. And I have been offered the job after every single one of them.

That sounds great, at first. Until the logical question eventually comes to your mind, which is, why has this girl gone on so many job interviews in such a short period of time? The short answer is because I wasn't happy. Obviously. Something was amiss somewhere between all of these jobs and my heart. The connection just wasn't making a full circuit, when I thought it should've been. Of these six job interviews in the last five months (averaging out to 1.2 new jobs every month, by the way), I have accepted -- and worked at least a short while -- at three of them. However, the way my life went did not average out to 1.2 new jobs every month. Instead, it went something like: a new job for three months, a new job for two weeks, a new job for four days. So really, since the beginning of September, my life has been a little more hectic than usual. Allow me to explain.

Rewind to the beginning of May, two weeks before final exams and graduation. I knew I desperately needed to find a new job, because I would soon no longer be a student, and therefore I could no longer have a student position. More importantly, I would soon have that coveted college diploma, and that meant I should probably have a career to go along with it. So I set out to see what I could find in the scary world of big girl jobs in Wichita.

I'll quickly skim over the beginning parts, because they're not the real focus of this story.

First, I applied to a refugee crisis center where I would be helping those people who were coming to seek solace in the United States. Amazing. Made my humanitarian heart feel good. I went to the interview and nailed it. I would've accepted it too, had it not been for the meek stipend offered as pay which averaged out to five dollars per hour with the possibility of working more than 40 hours a week.

A week later, I did a preliminary phone interview for a position at a law firm that I ultimately ended up accepting. The following week, I went in for the face-to-face interview and underwent a series of questions printed off by an intimidating attorney. I left feeling good about it.

A few hours later, I sat down in front of this very laptop where I am typing now and conducted a Skype interview with a Peace Corps representative. I smiled and talked for an hour about why I would be a great candidate for volunteering in Senegal for 27 months, starting next February. I felt good about this one, too. Until I decided at the end of June that moving to Senegal for more than two years was something my heart no longer yearned for, and, heartbroken and sorry, I graciously declined their job offer. (See previous blog for more details.)

Two days later, the day before graduation, I was offered the job at the law firm. I took it. I didn't have any other offers on the table which would pay as well, and I needed something to help pay for car insurance and groceries. So I did it. Then I hopped on a plane to Europe a few days later and forgot all about adult responsibilities until I returned at the beginning of June.

I stayed at that job for three months and three days. It was an alarmingly short amount of time for me to stay at a job. I felt like crap about quitting it. But I knew I would feel more like crap if I stayed. I had started in June and made it through the first two months without thinking too much. I was mostly just answering phones and filing court documents. Wax on, wax off. Day in, day out.

But at the end of July, I took a week-long vacation that I had been planning since the night I hatched the plan in Paris -- back in May. I went to Boston and New York City and aside from the few times a colleague texted me asking where to find client files, I didn't spend a single second thinking about work. Not until my plane landed back in Wichita on Sunday night and I immediately remembered reality was lying in wait for me the next morning.

This was the week when something changed inside of me. Before this moment, I had been mostly fine with my job. There were things I disliked about it, of course, and certain times when I wished I was doing something more exciting. But for the most part, to this point at least, it was okay. But when I came back from New York, my brain was still on vacation. My heart most certainly was, as well. My boss was on vacation this week, and her absence was something I was not exactly struggling with. My co-worker and I were the only ones in the office, and I came home on every lunch break to see my boyfriend (who was here for only a week) making us lunch and watching the Olympics in my apartment. Those were the hardest days to go back to clock in. The following Monday, he was back across the Atlantic and my boss was back in her office. That's when the switch inside of me flipped.

I had decided that I was no longer happy, living a meaningless existence behind my desk, stapling papers and stamping envelopes. I had a college degree and self-respect, and I deserved more than what I was getting paid! So I started looking around online and I applied to some jobs that I thought might interest me. This is where the fun really starts.

I quickly got responses back from two separate businesses, both of whom really liked my application and resume, and who wanted to schedule interviews with me. Great! This all happened the next business day following my online application. So I made appointments. One on Thursday, one on Friday.

The interview on Thursday was a colossal waste of my time, as I spent my entire lunch break sitting in a waiting room with a dozen other applicants, waiting to be called in one by one to some guy's office to be briefed on the "job" at hand, as we listened to the receptionist sing along to Nicki Minaj songs on the radio. Towards the end of the hour that I sat in that chair, I decided this was ridiculous, told the receptionist I had to go back to work, and left. They never missed me.

However, the Friday interview was much more promising. I went in the morning and I met with the director of a new marketing firm located in a big office building downtown. Wow, I can remember thinking, this is it. I walked in, took the elevator up to their office, and waited nervously in my best business professional heels and blazer.

I shook this young man's hand -- he was only two and a half years older than me -- and looked out over the incredible view of downtown Wichita he had out of the giant window behind his desk. To say I felt hopeful would be an understatement. I told the man that I was looking for something else because the work I was doing now was simply unfulfilling -- I wasn't happy. Great, he promised me, this will be an exciting job for you. By the end of the twenty minute interview, we shook hands and settled on a date for me to return and do a second-round interview. I had nailed it.

I went back for the second-round interview, after having made a last-minute Target run the night before, buying a new pair of slacks and a new blouse specifically for the occasion. This is where I met two of the people who would be my new co-workers. They were two guys around my age, and one was engaged and another had a baby on the way. They seemed like nice enough guys and they were certainly very relatable, as far as needing to make more money goes. I could tell things were going well in this interview, and when I left I metaphorically crossed my fingers. I had pissed off my boss pretty bad by leaving work for this appointment, so I was hoping they'd call me back the next day with the job offer, as they'd said they would if they wanted to hire me. And they did.

I accepted the offer and the following day, I gave my typed and signed letter of resignation to my boss at the law firm. I allowed for a little less than two weeks -- as much as was possible between the moment I found out I got the job and the date the new place wanted me to start. She was inconvenienced but understanding, and she said she was sad to see me go. This turned out to be the beginning of a domino effect of quitting-and-beginning-new-jobs that has plagued my life for the last month.

I reported for duty at the agreed date and time in this big office building which would now be my new employer. I still wasn't really sure what I was going to be doing, but I was sure it was going to be amazing. (Spoiler alert: I was wrong.) On the first day, the people in charge gave me and three other new girls a clipboard, a polo, and a pitch to memorize in the next two days. I learned I was going to be going out to Walmart and talking to customers to try to sell them cable service. (Read: standing on my feet for at least seven hours a day, wearing slacks and the same polo everyday, working late and on weekends, and bothering people who would really rather not be bothered.)

Even for the amount of money promised to me in commission for each sale and the "safety net" option of minimum wage multiplied by 40 hours a week, this didn't seem to be worth it for all of the time I was putting into it, not including the amount of gas I was using every day to drive to different locations. It didn't take me long to realize I hated it, and I needed to find something else to pay my bills.

I had sent out copies of my resume and cover letter to different travel agencies in the area about a month before this point, at the same time as I applied to this marketing firm. I decided to call them up on one of my days off and just touch base with each of them. Who knew, I thought, maybe they're still hiring. I made an appointment with one of the agencies for the following Monday -- which meant I only had to survive seven more days selling my soul to the devil.

Travel agencies seemed like such an obvious choice for me, because even though it probably doesn't really count as international business, it still has all the exciting parts of work that I love involved in it: namely traveling and helping people. That's really all the convincing I needed, coming from my recent history of filing court documents and pitching cable television sales in Walmart. I set the interview and prepared plenty of questions this time, to make sure I really knew just what I was getting myself into.

I went to the interview and, twenty minutes later, I walked out the door having already accepted the offer. I was going to start the following Monday. I had accepted this offer against what was perhaps my better judgment, which was telling me that the position paid entirely too little for someone with a college degree, that the location totally sucked, and that though this woman had hired me on the spot, she also reminded me strikingly of a woman I had just spent three years working with during college, and that's not exactly something that I'd say is a compliment. But I knew how I felt selling cable TV packages, and I knew how I felt researching flight tickets online, and I didn't need a college degree to tell the difference between the two. So I listened to my heart, instead of my screaming bank account, and I accepted the position -- and informed Kate afterward.

Two days later, I informed my boss at the marketing place that I was no longer interested in moving forward in the company, because I simply did not love the work, and I was sure that meant I was eventually going to hate it. I was completely honest, and it felt so good. I'm sure everyone was blind-sided by my decision, because I had just been promoted a few days earlier, but I explained that I stayed long enough to achieve this for the sake of the colleague who had hired me, and who would consequently be promoted himself. But as soon as I accomplished that, I was abandoning ship. I think my boss was confused by my choice, but he said he understood. I returned the clipboard and polo to him the next day.

Then I began the new job at the travel agency, and I was loving every single thing about it. I immediately hit it off with another employee who was close to my age, as she showed me around the office and taught me how to use the computer programs. It was great. I went to lunch on that first day (just three days ago) and as I left, I checked my emails on my phone. The owner from one of the other travel agencies had reached out to me and offered to set up a time for an interview to see if we would be a good fit for one another. I had only been on the clock at this new place for two and a half hours!

Thinking that perhaps this place would pay more per hour or offer a better commission rate, I decided that I had nothing to lose, and I replied with haste that I would love to meet with him and I could be available any time. He hadn't replied by Tuesday's lunch break, 24 hours later, so I called his office line. We chatted and he loved my enthusiasm, and later we decided on a time that would work for both of us on Thursday. I patiently waited out the rest of Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday morning. Meanwhile, I was adjusting to my new job and learning more and more about the people I was working with -- not necessarily enjoying all of what I discovered.

However, I sure did love the work side of it, and I was quickly getting very excited every time I helped another agent research a flight or quote a cruise package. So at least this time, I could say that I didn't feel like I was selling my soul when I went in to work in the morning. Finally, I felt at least somewhat fulfilled and interested in what I was doing. My heart told me I was getting closer to something that made it very happy.

So today, I went to this interview with the owner of the other travel agency. My goodness, did we hit it off. We spent two hours talking and sharing insights on life and work. It was perfect. I felt like I had so many signs that this was finally where I wanted to be. He reminded me so much of my old boss from college, in all the best ways. I was thrilled. Until he told me it was commission only, with no such "safety net" option, even like what was offered at the marketing firm. Crap. He warned me that it would not be a profitable endeavor for the first few months, and that although he was certainly not trying to discourage someone who he thought would be a great agent, he did want to make me aware upfront of the kind of commitment I would be making if I chose to sign on the dotted line.

If I thought it had been heartbreaking to turn down the Peace Corps, or to quit my job at the law firm, or to drudge into a sales job I hated every day for two weeks, I had no idea the kind of heartbreak one could feel from finding the perfect job made exactly for them -- before realizing there is no way on earth that you could afford to continue existing and paying bills in the meantime before you could turn a profit for doing this thing you've come to realize you love.

I came home and called my mom and rambled on and on and on for almost twenty minutes about ways I thought I could make this work, and how impressed by me this man was, and how I had taken so many things as signs, and that I just really wanted to work there so badly I could taste it. And at the end of the conversation, I somehow just knew -- I had this feeling that it just wasn't going to work out. There is just no way I can possibly survive for up to six months until these commissions start rolling in, with no hourly wage, even if the commission I would be making would be 50% more than the commission I am making now.

There was just no way. Happiness has always been what best motivates me. But being able to pay my bills is a close second. And I guess that's just one of the tough facts of adulthood, also known as why so many people get so jaded, so soon.

So for now, at least, I will stay at the travel agency that hired me on the spot. There's certainly nothing wrong with learning and earning as much as you can where you're at, while you're there. Especially if you're a daydreamer like me, and always scheming the next plan anyway.


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I was talking to Kate about all of this career stuff last night. Kate, bless her, who had just returned to the country from the other side of the world and was suffering great jet lag, yet still listened to me whine and cry about my life for half an hour. And as per usual, I hung up the phone with Kate feeling like I had just read my own personalized fortune/horoscope/whatever nonsensical universal sign you believe.

I told Kate how I felt bad about the fact that I had moved around so many jobs in such a short amount of time. I said how unlike me this was, how Kate knew that, and that I thrive in situations of consistency and accountablity. I told her how I, more than my mother, my boyfriend, or her, was so exhausted from all of this up and down, in and out, first day/last day nonsense. I just want a routine, I told her. I want to be happy and I just want to make enough money to pay my bills.

And Kate told me this: "Don't worry. Everything before 25 is shitty. It gets better." 

Kate is pretty good with the witty one-liners that offer blunt wisdom that can only come from having lived life longer than me. I've come to expect them by this point in our relationship. That's probably part of the reason why I just know to call her now when I am freaking out about something like this.

Of course, I wouldn't heed her advice so much if it didn't already make perfect sense with what was going on inside of my own head at the time. In this instance, like many others before, it matched perfectly.

Kate pointed out to me that there are really two main groups of people who graduate college. She has been in the business of witnessing students graduate college for a while now, so I trust her opinion as an authority on the matter. She said she has seen it several times, and the two types of graduates are as follows:

1. The type of student who finds an internship sometime in the middle of college and gets a job which they can rely on to pay the bills AND which looks good on a resume. They are basically working full time by their last semester and when they graduate, they've already accepted the eventual job offer which they received when the time came to transition from college student into an active member of the adult workforce. They have a consistent, reliable form of income and a schedule which they have come to live by, and for the first little bit they're pretty well set saving towards their 401(k) and adulting like a professional.
2. Then there's the other group. They have a job during college, which may or may not be related to their major, and once they graduate they may kind of drift around a bit until they figure out exactly what it is that they want to do with all this adulthood they now have. They may not have a savings account, but they have a clear image of what they want and they don't mess around for too long putting up with anything less than what that image is. They move. They change. They evolve. They learn. That's not to say that the first group doesn't also do these things, but the second group does them at a more frequent rate than their counterparts. And in doing all of this moving and growing and exploring of their options, they open themselves up to opportunities that their counterparts may have missed, occupied by their routines and stability. By virtue of their constant changing, they learn to become more adaptable than their peers, who have yet to face such evolutionary challenges. Essentially, they prove Darwin's point.

Of course, I'm paraphrasing a bit, but that is essentially the message I took away from our conversation. To really drive her point home, Kate told me to look at these two types of people ten years after graduation. Sure, maybe the first group looks good on paper, ten years at the same company with a consistent contribution to their pension fund every two weeks. But maybe the members of the second group are a bit happier because they have explored their options and looked deep within themselves to ask the very important question, what do I want? Kate said that a lot of the time, ten years after graduation, the first group of people are unhappy because all they have done is the same work for ten years that they decided they wanted to do when they were 19 or 20 years old, when their brains were still developing them into who they are now. They've made a good income, but at what expense to their happiness? See where I'm going with this?

Now, a small disclaimer for those who are easily offended by my own personal opinion: Of course, that is not to say that every single college graduate fits explicitly and necessarily into one of those two groups I just illustrated. Of course people graduate with full-time positions offered to them and they are extremely happy AND make a good income. I am in no way saying that happiness and a steady job are mutually exclusive. Of course they're not. What I am saying is that by bumping around and getting scratched up a bit by the three jobs I've had in the last month, I have learned an inexplicable amount of knowledge and gained an immeasurable sum of experience, that I never in a million years would've known if I had stayed working at the very first job I got out of college, clocking in and clocking out, never bothering to ask myself what else I could do with my life, as is the case with many people complacent with their jobs, as described in the first group.

So, it has certainly been a tumultuous time for me, fresh out of college, during this student loan grace period. I feel as if, in many ways, I have learned a lot of things I couldn't have possibly learned while I was actually enrolled as a student. There certainly is something to be taken away from every life experience, no matter if it is good, bad, or indifferent.

I always envisioned my life as being that of a stable person with a reliable income, not that of someone who goes from one job to another to another within a month's time. But you know, I have also always seen myself as someone who pursues happiness above all else. I have never once forgotten the advice from Dr. Matson which I have handwritten on a canvas right next to my front door, which says, "Remember -- happiness leads to success!"

I have channeled that advice more than ever before in my life during this last month or so, and I have thought of Dr. Matson's words often. That includes his words about happiness becoming so important to you that you will stop at nothing to achieve it, and his words about not following the money in order to be happy because that's the inverse of how it works, and his words about twenty-somethings "drifting" after graduation and before marriage thus allowing themselves time to explore and find themselves, and his words about how those who do not progress and evolve will eventually get left behind. When I was a nineteen-year-old sophomore sitting in the front row of his class, I thought I understood what he was talking about pretty well. But now that I have actually lived through some of what he warned me was coming, I understand even better.

Throughout all of this (what has felt like a crazy mess to me but what is probably not that big of a deal actually) I have had tremendous support from so many of the people around me. I find myself feeling so grateful for those who love me enough to calm me down when I need it. One such source of inspiration which I was a bit shocked to hear such wisdom from, was my father.

He told me during one of his little pep talks that all of these experiences are nothing more than stepping stones, and that I should treat them as such. My father, having the way with words that he does, painted a picture in my mind of life as a pond with a series of stones protruding above the water as I use them to cross it. He told me, "Some stepping stones you step on for a long time, and they're more spaced out than the others. And others, they're closer together and you step on a whole bunch of them for a short period of time. You just gotta figure out the difference."

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So I learned that the job I had in college was a big stepping stone that I stayed on for three years, isolated away from the others which were soon to come. The job at the law firm was a stepping stone I stayed on for three months. And the others, well, those were stones I was only meant to step on to help me get closer to where I'm going... Wherever that may be. Maybe I'll stay on them a long time, or just a little bit. But I won't know until I get there.

When I look at it in this light, it really makes much more sense, in the grand scheme of things. It fits in nicely to the idea that everything happens for a reason, and that you can't connect the dots looking forward, as Steve Jobs once said. You can only connect them looking back. Everything in the universe works together to culminate in the bettering of yourself, if you can just be open to it as it happens.

So, I think it's important to focus on what I can take away from these experiences. I've learned many things which I now know I do not like about a job. And it's not like I got fired from a single one of them. I just felt obligated to leave what I knew in my heart was not right for me. And in doing that, I have only managed to get closer to discovering exactly what is right for me. At the end of the day, I've got to believe that's more than enough to get me wherever it is I am meant to go.

My Mother

Few things in this world do any of us need more than our mother. Few people know us so well or can comfort us the same.

There was a long time during my youth when the person I wanted to see least was my mother. I said awful things about her and to her. I slammed the door to my bedroom at least a dozen times. I back talked her and she slapped my face only a fraction of what she should have.

A child so unruly grew into an adult with an appreciation so deep. My mother made sacrifices for all of us: my father, my sister, my brother, and me. She went without many things that she desired so we could have what we wanted instead. There were undoubtedly tough times when we did go without, and I will always remember them well. But I will never forget that she always did her best.

My mother's life has not always been easy, and as an extension, neither has mine. That's not to say she is a victim or that she is a helpless pawn in the game of life. It's to say, instead, that she has a fighting spirit; one which I know I inherited from her. I've seen her in moments of strength and weakness, laughing with joy and with tears of pain rolling down her cheeks. I have heard her make declarations in indignant anger and I have heard her say nothing as she is faced with disappointment. Many times I have witnessed these types of interactions without her even knowing I was watching.

I have learned things from her which I may not realize for another ten years. Just the same, I have taught her things that she never expected to learn. We have learned from each other, both from the ways we are different and the ways in which we are entirely too much alike. I often hear her words in my own voice. Everyday, I see her face in my own reflection. She is with me forever, wherever I go, whether I like it or not.

I doubt if there is a thing in this world of which my mother is more proud than her children. Besides her grandchildren, perhaps. Her pride is fierce and constant, and no matter how hard I try, I know I could never lose her love. She created me, after all, and then she set me free out into the world. As the days go by and I grow older, I realize that in a number of ways, I am her in miniature, and sometimes it's not always so bad. Ten years ago, I would've cringed at the thought, but adulthood brings with it a certain appreciation for all that your parents have done.

I have seen what it takes to be a mother and I have decided that it is likely not for me. It requires a patient kind of selflessness that I do not possess. It demands momentous sacrifice again and again. It means allowing your heart to beat outside of your chest, and consequently, it means worry in your heart and wrinkles on your forehead. It means being there for your child, even as they turn their back to you and spread their wings in the opposite direction. It means being available for every late night call that may ever come, about school, relationships, or careers. It means dropping your toddler off at daycare and praying you don't get another call about their misbehavior. It means, that for better or worse, you are at least a little bit responsible for who this tiny, malleable person becomes in the future, and that outcome hinges on every single moment, both big and small. It means being both the good cop and the bad cop, and having your teenager's attitude toward you change accordingly. It means refraining from smacking the mouthy little brat's mouth when they disrespect you in the mean-spirited way that only kids can. It means that you have to keep this extremely dependent human being alive to adulthood, and not get yourself killed in the process.

It means doing all of this, day in and day out, with no sick leave and no paid vacation time, for a minimum of eighteen years but usually much longer, in the hopes that someday, just maybe, they will realize all of this and be grateful to you for all you have done to make them possible -- both figuratively and literally.

My mother is many things to me. She is my support system, my champion, and my rock. She is my number one fan and my biggest critic. She asks too many questions and she too often tells me what to do. She is, on occasion, my best friend; but more often, she drives me crazy. She is three text messages and seven missed calls within an hour. She is a love note packed away inside my suitcase the night before I leave. She is the voice inside my head when I really don't want to make a decision. She is my backbone, my strong-willed stubbornness, and my determination. She is my pants and my bra both immediately taken off upon coming home after work. She is the sinkful of dirty dishes and the laundry hamper piled high. She is the salty sweet combination of every small motherly habit and every curse word I've ever heard. She is the reason I know what it means to love someone with all of my heart, but not to like them one little bit.

She may not be much to anyone else. But she is my mother, and without her I would not exist. She is the very reason I am breathing, and as such, she is the air within my lungs. She is my mother, and she is very much the reason I know love, and all of the beautiful things which derive from it.

College Friendships & International Exposure

I think back to August of 2012 when I made that first drive to Wichita all by myself, with my belongings all packed up and ready to move to college with me. I was only relocating an hour north, but at 18 years old, I was simultaneously thrilled and terrified. I can remember feeling excited to finally live on my own and be able to go anywhere and do anything, at any time of the day or night without having to answer to my mother. I remember thinking what a huge, vast place Wichita was and how I was probably never going to learn how to get around or remember where anything was located. I also remember feeling like my heart had been ripped straight out of my chest when I drove out of my mom's driveway after kissing my three-year-old baby brother good-bye. I remember feeling so guilty because I just knew he was going to forget all about me and things were never going to be the same again (he didn't, and they were).

I was so sad and scared for many reasons which I was leaving behind, but it quickly occurred to me that I was also scared for a few reasons looking forward. I didn't have a job secured yet and I was unsure of just how long the money I'd made at my summer job would sustain my new college lifestyle. I was moving to a place with a higher crime rate and I couldn't help but imagine being mugged in the bad neighborhoods of the city I would now call home. But perhaps most daunting of all, now that I look back at that moment in my life, is a fear which is far less tangible and  much more realistic: I did not know a single person in Wichita. I was the only one from my graduating class to be going to WSU as a freshman, and while I was very excited about getting away from the people I'd long ago outgrown, it also momentarily paralyzed me with panic.

I had no one. The realization really hit me that first night when I went to bed in my dark new dorm room, all by myself, without my Mommy, my baby brother, my best friend, or my boyfriend. I only had myself. My roommate hadn't arrived yet and there was no guarantee I'd like her when she did (I didn't). I was just going to have to make friends in my classes and cross my fingers that I'd eventually find some people who would understand me.

It took some time at first, but eventually I did find my own little tribe of various misfits and weirdos.

Freshman year was rough, and I really only still speak to one person who I knew at that time. I like to think of that first year as the awkward freshman year that a lot of people experience, where you try your hand at a lot of different things just to find out what you like and see what sticks. My roommate and I didn't have much in common and we lived in an unhealthy silence for the entire year. This greatly shaped my outlook on making new friends. My suitemate and I, however, banded together for a while, but towards the end of the year that began to disintegrate as our paths went in separate directions. I'd made a few other friends through work (I actually ended up getting a job before August was even over, and I stayed there for a year) and various other activities. At the end of the year, though, I left Wichita to go home for the summer still feeling pretty alone.

The following year was really the turning point in my college career. You always hear stories where people say "we met in college" or they talk about how they went to college with their best friends/bridesmaids/groomsmen. This is the really profound part of my journey where I first encountered those kinds of characters in my life's story. I moved into a different residence hall, partially by choice, and partially because the university's administration kicked returning students out of where I'd previously lived. It doesn't really matter now how my path led me there, because I ended up exactly where I was meant to be. I was at Brennan.

I cannot count on both my hands all of the countries represented in Brennan. There are a lot. Within the first week of living there, I had made new friends from all over the world; from places I'd never known anyone from before; and certainly from places I could not identify on a map. Brennan was a hodge-podge of so many different ethnicities and nationalities, due in part to its close location to the International Education office, and also because it had the cheapest housing rates available. Throwing so many international students and domestic students together in two buildings certainly had its quirks.

Although we came from many different cultures individually, the combined culture of Brennan was one rich in brutal honesty, immense sexual innuendo, racist jokes, and mild sexism. We all spent entirely too much time together, frequently invaded one another's personal space, knew terrible truths about each other, and at some point everyone had been pissed off at someone else. Despite all of our various differences, what kept us together were the things we had in common. We were one giant, usually loving, always misbehaving, slightly dysfunctional, multi-colored family.

I have this big world map on my wall right above my bed this year, where I put little adhesive tags with the names of my loved ones on it. I am a visual learner and seeing my friends spread out geographically like that really puts it into context for me. There are some tabs on the map which represent people who I did not meet through Brennan, and I cherish those international friendships just as dearly. I know by my age, plenty of people have accomplished much more. But I'm quite proud of being twenty-one-and-a-half years old and having friends from six out of seven continents. (Does anyone really live in Antarctica anyway?)

The Brennan residence hall has since been shut down by the administration, and we dispersed in different directions. We all feel collectively pretty sad and even a little bitter about it, but I remember what a friend told me last year: "Brennan's not a building. It's a community." A group of us moved together into another residence hall after it closed, and we still hang out regularly. It's not quite the same as it was before, but just like anything else in life, it has evolved as time has gone on. A few of the members of my Brennan family have since returned back to their home countries, and while I always hate it when the international students leave, Facebook does help keep us close. And I doubt if they know this, but I assume that I have a place to stay in any of their home countries if ever I should need it.

I look at this map on my wall, and I think back to my freshman year in Wichita. I spent that first lonely night in my empty dorm room, just a few doors down in the very hall where I sleep now. I didn't know a single person when I moved to (what I thought was) a big city three years ago. Wichita seemed cold and lonely and truly terrifying to even the most headstrong of eighteen-year-old girls.

Apart from my time spent cultivating international relationships at Brennan, I did travel abroad for the first time in college, which inspired me to take a solo trip to check out an even bigger city later. When I look at my map of friends and see how far away the places I've been are located from the tag that says "Mom & Zane", I realize that the one hour drive from home to Wichita in 2012 was not so far, afterall.

I have grown an incredible amount in such a short span of time during my college years. I know I'm responsible for most of it myself, but I don't pretend that at least part of that growth has been due to them; those little adhesive tags littered all over my map, which represent living, breathing people, with whom I've lived, slept, ate, argued, and known on a very real level. Without even one of those people in my life, I would not be the very person I am today. Nobody can do everything in this world on their own, least of all grow.

Three years ago when I made that interminable drive to Wichita with all my belongings, the thought never once crossed my mind that I was driving toward such meaningful friendships and such varied cultural exposure. I felt so alone in a city of 380,000. I knew no one. Now, a short time later, I feel so at home all over the world; and it all changed within the same city limits.

Now I feel I'm outgrowing Wichita, just as I felt when I outgrew Ark City. I made a big girl leap into a bigger city 50 miles away, even though I was scared. It took some time and adjustment, but I now know I survived. Having that knowledge and experience under my belt, I am now much more fearless to do it again, on a larger scale.

It's strange to think that so much has changed in such a short amount of time. But meeting so many people from so many places (along with my own traveling experience) has taught me that I can indeed go anywhere and do anything, because I now know I can make a home and find friends anywhere at all in this world, no matter how scared and alone I might feel when I first arrive. I've just got to look around to find my own little tribe of misfits and weirdos, wherever I may be. They look different and they come from different places, but no matter where I may go, they're there: friendships waiting to be made.

"Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open." - Albus Dumbledore

Why I'm Absolutely Unafraid To Travel Alone

I like to do things alone. I like to be alone. I always have to some extent, and I probably always will. Don't get me wrong, I do not dislike people and I have no fear of interacting with others -- quite the opposite, really. I love fiercely and I am not known to shy away from extensive conversation. I just enjoy the quiet and space to be myself -- to be with myself -- that being alone brings with it. I have learned that it is easiest for me to listen to myself when I have few outside distractions. And boy, is listening to myself ever important.

Like being alone, I am also contented to travel. Anywhere, anytime, by any means. I relish discovering new things, and I revel in the sphere of possibility that comes with moving about unexplored places in this world. To me, the allure of travel is simple: I can explore anywhere my heart desires and I can have any adventure I decide. Traveling is simultaneously a way to exercise control over your life, as well as a way to lose total control.

Travel allows you to control your life because of the small bit of planning it necessitates. Booking a plane ticket, saving up money, and packing your bags are all things that require long-term awareness and self-discipline. On the other hand, delayed flights, lost wallets, language barriers, and unfamiliar public transportation systems all demand patience and composure as things that are totally out of your control directly affect you. I have experienced both some of the most peaceful and most stressful moments of my life while traveling. That's the beauty of it. You really never know ahead of time what is going to happen and what lessons you are going to learn. The only guarantee is that something will happen and you will learn a lesson. The latitude to decide exactly what that may be is between yourself and the universe.

So I guess it shouldn't really come as a surprise that someone who enjoys her alone time, and who has learned the importance of listening to her heart and tuning into her own consciousness, finds traveling alone to be one of the greatest joys life has to offer.

When I'm alone, I can decide where I want to go, what I want to eat, and what I am going to do next. Perhaps this is a selfish aspiration, but I am entitled to take care of my own well-being, and for me, solitude offers a nurturing quality that allows me to do just that. In my experience, you become most yourself when you are traveling, because your comfort zone is transient and you don't exactly have time to create the superfluous projections of yourself that the cushion of everyday life affords you. So, being most myself when I travel, I like to be alone.

Please don't misunderstand; I enjoy being around others and I know that socializing with locals is one of the best ways to really get to know a new place for the short while you're there. I love making friends when I go someplace new. In fact, traveling has taught me to appreciate friendships more quickly, because the bonds you build while traveling often have an expiration date. At home, a person does not have the opportunity to make friends out of strangers in the same capacity as while traveling. Often, our lives are very different from those of strangers, and sharing our experiences teaches everyone lessons. There is beauty, not only in learning how you are different, but also in uncovering what you have in common.

But there is a qualitative difference between temporarily befriending someone you encounter on your path, and being surrounded by others for the entire journey of your path. So I guess my preference for traveling alone really comes down to this:

1. I make my own schedule.
This is the part that sounds a little harsh and selfish. But I will not apologize for it. Life is short, and the time you are allotted in any given place while traveling is even shorter. I am a selectively patient person and I don't like to feel like I'm wasting my time. I can sit and enjoy the silence all day long, completely at ease, as long as it was my idea. But drag me through a crowded tourist attraction when my feet hurt and I have no desire to be there, and I just might resent you forever.

Traveling together creates a certain bond of intimacy between people. You are likely to share beds, food, money, and quite a bit of personal space. When it works, it's marvelous. But when it doesn't work, I can guarantee you will never want to see that person again after you return home.

Let's just say I am being noble in caring too much about my friendships to sacrifice any of them by traveling together.

2. I learn so much more about myself.
I spend a lot of time in my head. I have learned to (usually) think before I speak, and as a result, some thoughts never make it out of the space between my ears. Other times, I am simply observing and retaining information for myself. Just sitting and watching your surroundings can teach a traveler so much; there's no need -- and certainly no possible way -- to comment on it all. Watching the behavior of the locals is sometimes the best way to teach yourself what to do.

Going far away from others who know you allows you the freedom to be anyone you want to be. You miraculously no longer feel the pressure to conform before the opinions of your peers, and being surrounded by perfect strangers gives you the opportunity to behave completely differently, if you so wish.

It's true that we are most ourselves when we are alone. We learn to form opinions for ourselves, because the judgment of strangers matters far less than the judgment of friends. We are honest with ourselves and we face what's inside of us because we have no distractions in which to hide. We learn how self-sufficient we are capable of being, and realize that we've been this way all along.

In all my traveling experience, I hold one frustratingly glorious truth above the rest: getting lost helps. I have never intended to get lost; I don't think anybody really does. But inevitably, at least once, I somehow end up far away from my desired destination, without any idea where I took the wrong turn. There have been times when I was a little panicked and thought surely this was where I was going to die. There have been times when I have asked directions, pretended I knew what they were talking about, and walked away just as lost as before. There have been times when I was so lost that I straight up abandoned my original plan and just found something else to do instead.

But every time I have gotten lost in some giant, unfamiliar place, I have ultimately relied entirely upon my own resourceful skillset and listened to my own primal instincts. I have always adapted to my surroundings and, somehow or another, I have always found my way back into the familiar again, and I've survived far enough to be here typing this now. My point is, things going wrong can teach you so much more than if everything goes according to plan. Your reaction is more important when your cell phone dies, you lose your map, and it's getting dark, than when conditions are normal. You learn quickly what you're made of when that's all you've got to rely on.

3. We are all alone already anyway.
My first real experience of travel came into my life at a time of great personal transformation. From the beginning of that first journey, I saw it as an opportunity to prove to myself that I could do big, wonderful things all by myself. More importantly, I could do these big, wonderful things all for myself. I guess that tone of sovereignty hasn't really left.

In the past, when I have told people I am planning a trip alone, their reactions have been varied. However, the reaction that sticks out the most to me is, "You're going alone? But aren't you scared? I could never do that!"

The truth is, we can all do just about anything if we are motivated enough. At face value, the question "aren't you scared?" would appear to be concerned for my safety as a lone wolf traveling in a dangerous world. At least, that's what I thought at first. But then I asked myself, what if the thing I am supposed to be scared of is being alone? What if these people who say they "could never do that" are more afraid of sitting alone with themselves than they are of being mugged?

That's when I realized it: I am so capable of being alone, of facing myself and my feelings, of looking myself in the eyes and loving myself, that I am not afraid. Traveling alone does not scare me because I know so well who I am and what I am capable of, that my internal confidence is greater than anything I could possibly encounter in the external world.

Maybe I'm a narcissist, or maybe I am just fiercely independent to a fault, but I like being alone. It is my time to sit with myself and reflect on my own life, thoughts, and feelings. I can dream all my big dreams and think deeply about the world around me. I enjoy it. It brings me peace and healing. I'm certainly not afraid of it.

Being alone means being with nobody but yourself. Being afraid means something scares you. Therefore, being afraid of being alone means being with nobody but yourself scares you. I'm not afraid of being by myself. There is nothing inside of me that I am afraid to face, because it is only a manifestation of myself, after all. I am the only one who controls it. I do not occupy myself with others in order to avoid facing who I am. To the contrary, I want to know who I am.

The fact of the matter is, we're all alone in this life anyway. Some of us just like to maintain the illusion that we aren't because it makes the world seem like a little less scary of a place to live. But others of us know that this is just a pleasant façade generated by our minds to act as a buffer against fear and isolation. My mind has always operated in a very blunt, matter-of-fact manner, so I consider myself lucky that I don't struggle with this. It simply is what it is.

So, I suppose I could be afraid of being mugged or assaulted in an unfamiliar place. But I have a taser and a pretty strong right hook for a situation like that. That doesn't make me afraid to travel alone. I could be mugged right here at home. Money and belongings can be replaced. Memories and opportunities cannot.

I am absolutely unafraid to travel alone because the good things that come from it are far more valuable to me and my journey than any of the potential bad things that could happen. It's all experience in the end, really.  If I can face myself and like what I see, then I can surely go out and face the rest of this big, old world and like what I see there, too.

"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we are not alone." - Orson Welles