AULD LANG SYNE

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?

We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, 

For auld lang syne."

Sit down, Robert Burns. It's my turn to talk.

The "New Year" has long been one of my favorite celebrations. The acknowledgment of the ever speedy passage of time -- the countdown to something "new" -- the stopping to assess our lives and think about where we are, where we want to be. 

All good things.

When 2016 was born in a flood of underage champagne consumption and some tears of hopefulness, it truly marked the start of something "new" for me. 2015 had been a year of horrors, despair, pain, and chaos. 2016, despite the world's disdain for it, was truly an AMAZING year for me, and by no fault of my own. Despite the fact I made leaps and bounds of growth and change over the course of twelve months, I actually started the year with only three resolutions: to blog throughout the year, to keep my closet more organized, and to not do anything drastic and regrettable to my hair. 

Well, I blogged (and people READ it)! And my hair survived a hectic year in a mostly virgin state (barely). And my closet is clean (at this exact moment in time)!

But those resolutions ('cept for blogging of course) are KIND OF LAME if you really think about them! My ability to analyze my life, critically evaluate my feelings on it, and to then wisely compile a list of concrete, achievable goals is, well, lacking. Do I only really care about a clean closet and a great haircut?! Oh, god, no. That's just the tip of the iceberg!

This New Year's, I'm struggling even more than usual with my resolutions. It's not that I can't SEE areas I should improve on -- of course, there is a plethora of things I don't like about myself -- I could be way cooler with a few modifications, don'tcha think?!?

But how to express these areas I wish to change... 

My 2017 Resolutions (at least the ones I have so far) are as vague as heck -

Keep Up the Good Work!
Don't Cry Over Boys!
Stay Positive!
Go to Therapy A Lot!

Okay, the last one is specific, but... I'm struggling with how to convert vague, intangible desires into concrete, achievable goals! I want to change myself in areas of mindsets, desires, and emotions... I want SO MANY FREAKING THINGS!

healthy relationships
an unclouded mind
a robust and secure self-esteem
a deep and understanding sympathy for the world 
a guarded heart
a simple and peaceful faith.
a graceful body and spirit
patience and gentleness
freedom and fearlessness.

How does a girl start off her year with all that penned into a handy list to follow?!

Maybe, she doesn't.

Maybe, she just keeps going. 

Maybe, she takes a breath at the start of the new year and just dives in. 

Because, the passage of time doesn't care about my lists, my plans, my hopes, my fears... time takes me every day just the same. A little bit of life is gone in exchange for a little bit of whatever I plant down in place of it. 

2017 is going to be good, EVEN IF IT SUCKS. 

Because every year is good. Every day is good. And I have to remind myself of this in order to deal with school, break-ups, the world news... 

Whatever happens to you is just what happens to you. 

Perhaps one of my resolutions for myself is to let go of some of my resolutions...

To kick back a little, while simultaneously buckling down a little.

Maybe if I laugh a little more, care a little less, and always push forward just the same... my year will rock. Just like it did this year, in beautiful 2016, and in last year, horrendous 2015, and every other year that's pushed me into the place I am now.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, MY BEAUTIFUL FRIENDS!

To those of you that have made me laugh, cry, rejoice, think more, think less, kiss a lot, walk barefoot, rediscover email, read poetry, be strong, "be cool", and maybe even hurt a little... 

Thank you for helping me reach my unspoken and my UTMOST resolutions. To love, and to be loved.

Because without love, none of those other resolutions matter a bit.

so thank you.

friends,

i love you,

happy new year.

The Great Spin Cycle of Life

**Introduction**

I wrote this a while ago but have debated posting it for a while because I don't like showing this vulnerable side of myself, and I just really wanted to do this post justice because my best friend's engagement is SUPER special to me. And I'll admit I'm wary of posting this bundle of emotions! However, it's these parts of myself that are worth sharing, so I'm sharing this today.


Today, I got a phone call from my best friend in the whole world - she's engaged! 

ENGAGED!

And would I be her bridesmaid?! Well of COURSE! That's been the plan since, well, forever! This is the time of our lives we've been rehearsing in my backyard's playground-wedding-venue since young childhood. Happiness brimmed over in our conversation. Plans for the future, disbelief, excitement and nostalgia and LOTS of questions for her... AHHHH! AHHHHHHH!!!! 

Plain and simple, it's overwhelming as HECK! It's amazing and wonderful and happy... and tears of happiness welled up in my eyes as I congratulated my best friend.

But, upon hanging up with her, I promptly burst into tears. Nostalgic memories of the little eight-year-old girl that brought whoopie pies to my house as a "welcome to the neighborhood" offering flooded my mind.

A decade ago, we were nursing baby dolls and daring each other to pee in the woods. We had yet to experience a world of flat-irons, text messages, dating, depression, romance, disappointment, late night news channels, insomnia, anxiety, politics, career paths, diplomas, dieting, break-ups... and the list goes on. These were all mythical, distant concepts that we saw snippets of through older sisters and parents and books we were too young to read.

It's a dark, utterly terrifying world out here, one that we knew very little about from our "secret garden" of our backyards. To me, the extent of the world that I desired to know was the end of a short path through the woods leading to her house.

Our sweet friendship sustained my happy childhood days, grew me emotionally into someone who could connect with others, taught me many basic social skills (like calling people before showing up at their house) and was, in fact, a crucial aspect in developing the woman I am today.

I owe much to this best friend! And it's been an exercise in "letting go" watching her branch out into a successful, accomplished, lovely woman - whom I rarely see these days except through sound bites of voicemails, skype calls... and that thing we both used to think was so uncool and conforming, texting.

This post does not have a clear beginning and end - there's really not a point that I'm trying to get at it. Today is a day for lots of feelings. Feelings. Those vague, wishy-washy things that can be so flighty and fleeting and yet run deeper and stronger than words can express. There are many feelings that cross my path during the day, feelings that blow like a breeze over my mind. And then, there are feelings that are a deep current swaying my heart back and forth in painful, sweet, rich motion of memory.

And today, it's that. Within my chest, I feel emotions that span across thirteen years. They catapult me back to age 8, back into a wild child with her hair hanging wispily out of a messy pony-tail, thighs orange and dusty from shimmying up a "tiger tree", hands covered in clay and cuts and crudely made wire-and-bead "best friend" rings.

The Great Spin Cycle of Life has me caught in a current - all at once seeing my childhood in colorful, vibrant flashes behind me and simultaneously, a rich, busy future speeding towards me. I'm vacillating back and forth between the two, with one foot planted tentatively in each. While my life is moving more and more into grown-up-land, there are times when I am transported back, and Kara, as my soul-sister, baby-best-friend, and long-past playmate will ALWAYS remind me of the early days that we shared.

As Kara gets engaged and prepares for this future, with her mind and heart set on a NEW life, I'm rushed in a wave of emotion back to an old life. I can't help but watch my best friend get engaged not through the eyes of the woman I am today (who is, I'll admit, slightly jaded and stubborn and NOT taken aback by things) but through the eyes of that child, who watches with disbelief, joy, amazement, pride, and a little bit of sadness.

Every day that we played together as children, I watched her skip joyfully back through the woods to her house, waving emphatically, whistling, yelling, "SEE YOU LATER!"

And today, I watch her walking into marriage, hand-in-hand with a great man, and it's a similar feeling. I feel love. I feel sadness. I feel care and concern. I feel admiration. I feel pride. And most of all, I feel so incredibly lucky to know her.

I love you forever, Kar! Backwards forever and forwards forever. And as we continue our lives, feeling constantly propelled closer to eternity, I will ALWAYS think of you as a best friend - a faithful, beautiful glimpse to me of the God who made us both. Friend, you are beautiful, lovely, and true. Miguel is lucky to have you for a best friend, THIS I know.

Sarah Kane's Year In Review

Well, it's been quite a number of days since I sat down here to write, and that's not a bad thing - I've been a busy woman!

However, I don't want to let this blahg slip since it was, after all, my 2016 New Year's Resolution. I wanted to consistently write, no matter who read it or what they thought of it. And I've reached that goal, with over 100 blahg posts. The best part is that many of you have become my consistent readers, and I've truly enjoyed the feedback and support I've received.

This little corner of the internet has made me very happy, and I can't believe the year is already drawing to a close! So much has happened! Since January 1st, the day I began this blog, I have...

...Experienced death of someone far too young. Watched my Aunts and Uncles cry, stood in a silent, empty hospital room tucked quietly in the bustling streets of a city that holds a heritage I have yet to experience...

...Traveled to military bases, turned wrenches, worked with my hands, made the most of my semester off from school by building physical and mental muscle with my dad and his crew...

...Joined a wonderful group of women to explore our stories, to write and share and journey together for a number of precious, soul-nourishing Tuesday nights...

...Left Asheville to spend my summer in the mountains of Cherokee with hundreds of children, teaching and singing and crafting and growing and smiling more than I ever have before...

...Returned home to embrace education, studies, and books...

...Spent many nights in the wild and honest company of friends, playing cards and dice, driving to starry lookouts, lying in my bed and whispering our hearts out...

...Made a bold leap of faith into a world of brutal honesty, came forward into the light with my story of abuse and heartbreak. I ended up recieving affirmation in the most unexpected ways possible, by being believed, by having action taken on my part, by being flanked on both sides by powerful people who chose to take my word over the word of a 35 year old man...

...Found a family through my job at the Y...

...Discovered my heart is perhaps ready to move on, as it tredpidly tests the waters of a new relationship with hope and anticipation...

...Brought the semester to a strong close, fueling myself for another upcoming year of Hard Work and Much Learning...

...Turned 21, breaching a "Change Year" in my life, marking the start of a new leaf in the book of myself, a book I'm constanty writing, reading, and re-writing as I go...


All these things and many more have made my year a vibrant, active one. There are hundreds of people who have crossed my path. Friends old and new. There are books I read, songs I cried to, hard things I am proud to say I accomplished (from a Vivaldi Concerto to my "B" in Accounting).

And, I've written about most of it.

Of course, no one can see my year in reverse in as bright colors as I can, but I've enjoyed giving you a glimpse into this little life. It's been a wonderful year! And 2017 already holds the promise of life, love, hard work, many words, travels, newness... and I hope very much to write about it in an even better, more honest way.

*Cheers*

Choose Your Pain

Yesterday, whilst seated upon the familiar blue couch of my counselor's office, I had what you might call an epiphany.

While I was whining about problems I'd created for myself on the battlefield of love, life, and academics (*terrified gasp*) my counselor said something VERY counselor-y.

"You know, Sarah..." He shifted tentatively in his squeaky-springed chair. "I think, maybe, you're bad at choosing your pain."

"Whaddaya mean?!" I eyed him begrudgingly.

"Pain is, well, inevitable."

I blinked. "Great. Thanks."

"No, really, it is..." He adjusted his wire rimmed glasses and observed me, surely his favorite hot-mess-Monday client, and smiled. "You're often forced in life to choose between two kinds of pain. Some pains are better than others. Think about."

Okay, so, that's true. We pay with pain to avoid greater pain--

We go to our job every day even when we don't want to (PAIN) to avoid being unemployed and potentially homeless and destitute (WORSE PAIN).

We pay hard work (PAIN) to avoid failing all our classes (WORSE PAIN).

We are honest with those we love (PAIN PAIN PAIN!) to avoid heart-wrenching situations down the road (WORSERERER PAIN).

So, really-

It's all a great trade-off of pain.

"So, with your friends," my counselor continued. "With this guy, with your parents, with your schoolwork, with YOURSELF..."

"I need to choose my pain wisely," I finished.

I do.

We all do!

We need to have a healthy perspective on the kinds of pain that we need, and the kinds that are worth paying off in advance.

Here is a handy list I've made for you of things that may cause a kind of pain that is WORTHWHILE:

-Being HONEST
-Writing that paper that will help you pass that class
-Listening to your parents' advice
-Reading my blog
-cooking healthy balanced meals
-Exercising every now and then
-Not screwing around with people who won't be there a year from now
-finishing college
-going to work
-washing your pillowcases more often
-being real with yourself

And, likewise, here is a handy list of things that cause a kind of pain that SUCKS (SO DON'T DO THESE THINGS):

-Being fake
-Dating someone just because you're lonely and needy (*laughs nervously*)
-Forcing yourself to stay in a major/career/situation you detest because of fear
-Letting people walk all over you
-Not reading my blog
-LYING TO YOURSELF
-LYING TO OTHERS
-DON'T LIE

So, yeah...

Guys, there are things that are hard. Honesty. Schoolwork. Being genuine. Doing what's right. Staying strong in the face of adversity. Being the bigger person.

Those things may hurt.

But really... not doing them? Well. That'll hurt more, and maybe we should all stop lying to ourselves about that fact and just buckle down and choose our pain WISELY! Or pain will choose YOU.

Be careful out there, folks... *closes door slowly* until next time.

this is the part that is up to you.

     People have stories,
     people are stories.

We don't create (all of) our stories,
and they don't create (all of) us.

Our stories exist in us
and we exist in them

     Which means there are no horrible people,
just horrible stories that people are trapped in.

     So don't hate anybody.

Because our stories all start the same way
     (We are born)
And our stories all end the same way
     (We die)
And that is the best, worst, and truest part of us all.
     that we are all the same.

     we are all the same.
     but we are not all the same way.
                   some of us are tragedies
                   some of us are mysteries
                   some of us are love stories

this is the part that is up to you.
       
We are beautiful not because of
     But despite our stories.

     What happens to you is just what happens to you.

     What happens to you is not your story,
          you are your story.

this is the part that is up to you,
     this the part that is you.
       

The Concert I Barely Remember

Last week I had the honor and privilege of joining three sweet friends (one old but rekindled, one new-ish but supah tight, and one super-new and absolutely delightful) for the trip of a lifetime....TO, DRUM ROLL PLEASE:

Charlotte. *woo hoo* *blows party horn*

Now, we've had this little excursion planned for a while, so when I awoke the morning of the concert with a headache, sore throat, and very distressed sinus system, I did what any normal, smart person would do. 

I WENT ANYWAY!

We embarked early evening and arrived at dinner time. Charlotte is beautiful, and I'd forgotten what a sucker I am for tall buildings. (Gosh, I just love tall buildings! *squeal*)

Our dinner was lovely, simple, and for me, very painful to swallow. But you know, concerts man. I paid too much to miss this. I thought, "pop some pills and deal with it, Sarah." So I did. 

The show began with not one but two pat downs (great) and some contraband water that I had to pretend was vodka (the bartender stuck a lime on it and literally said "shhhh") since the bars aren't allowed to give out free water. Just another sign our country is headed downhill. *shakes head*

So, we established ourselves in the middle of the floor and set up camp for the night. And by set up camp I mean we looked at each other awkwardly for about an hour. 

Finally, the show began, and well, it was great. The parts I can remember. The darkness, the flashing lights, and the ukelele all mixed very well with my Sudafed, and I found myself zoning out in trances only to come back to reality to realize EVERYTHING HAD CHANGED. (songs, outfits, my pain level... you know.)

I slowly descended into "the beginning of the end" which for me is being freezing cold in a crowd of 200 tightly packed sweaty people. Then, the short term memory loss. Then, the bad mood. Eventually, total apathy to anything ever. 

I ended up bailing from our six-square inches early and went and sat in a corner. One of my friends came with me, god bless him. I may have taken a 30 second nap.... over and over again. And then I had to pee in the mens room because the ladies' was just too far away*, gosh dang it. (I asked a nice security guard to keep watch for me, and then I asked her if my nose looked really red. She said it looked "um, fine" then looked suspiciously at the black "X" on my hand.)

Eventually, we wandered outside for fresh air (my friend and I, not the security guard, though she was an absolute gem) and I enjoyed conversation and clarity of mind that only Sudafed can provide.

In the blink of an eye we were headed home, all bundled up in the car, the people in the backseat contorting their bodies in impossible ways so I could roll my seat back and feel utterly pathetic.

It was miserable really fun.

Throughout the ride, I zoned in and out of medicated reality, but through the strange state of mind that I later discovered was from a 102 degree fever, one thought was clear: I have a great life.

I have loving friends**, I have a lot of fun. I have music. Laughter. Tall buildings. A bad-ass leather jacket***.

Life is, well, pretty plummy.

*coughs up a lung*

Just thought I'd let you all know, I'm having a good time, and it's a great day to be Sarah Kane.

           ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

footnotes:

*about twelve feet away. Yeah. It was rough.
**I lovveee youuuu, friends.... I really love you... (*cries a little*)
***but seriously the leather jacket will get its own post soon.

The Single Girl Ain't Sad

The single girl. 

We all know her.

We all love her.

We sometimes might even be her. *cough*

But do we UNDERSTAND HER???

HONEYYYYY NO! No we don't! The single girl is freakin' marginalized, man. It's a cryin' shame. The Utterly Misunderstood Single Girl is a book we ALL need to read, once I've written it, which won't take very long, because I'm SINGLE and therefore I have TIME to throw myself into my creative pursuits! *bursts into tears*

Which brings us to Reasons Single Girls Ain't Sad NUMBER ONE....homegirls got TIME!!!

     TIME.

     Dear family, friends, and homies: I'd like to start off by saying we do *not* have MORE time than anybody else, we just have more OPTIONS for what to do with those precious minutes. Boyfriends are an investment with very pleasing dividends (you give them your time, they buy you food** and sparkly things***), but honestly there are better things you could be working on, like maybe a novel, a pretty painting, a BACHELOR'S DEGREE, even a giant paper-mache man that you can bring with you to social events.

     MONEY.

     Beloved Readers, the amount of money I spent driving to and from A FREAKIN' MAN in my earlier years appalls me now. You know what those dimes could have bought me? Probably a coffee. Maybe a pack of gum. Honestly, my 401K has really suffered... BUT NOT ANYMORE! I now choose to squander my precious dollah signs on, well, whatever I want. Simon and Garfunkel Posters, copies of Good Housekeeping from 1978... you know. The important stuff.

     FREEDOM OF SPEECH, AND WELL, EVERYTHING ELSE.

     I used to have to, you know, "watch my mouth" around my ex-boyfriend. He got so irritated when all I ever did was complain and be utterly negative about my life! I have no idea why he was so freakin' sensitive... anyway, now I can rant, rave, ramble, and even swear. Because there ain't NOBODY listening, honey boo boo, nobody. *glances around empty room* And yeah I can also eat what I want, sleep how I want, do what I want, sob hysterically from loneliness whenever I want... it's great. Yeah. Super great.

     FRIENDSHIP.

     Before you jump to any conclusions that all my friends are single people too, let me just tell you: THEY ARE. Because we are all just really good at being friends. *tear slides down cheek* Honestly, I'm friends with single people because people in relationships always say annoying things like "sorry I can't hang out with you four days in a row, I need to spend time with SO-AND-SO." Pshhh. PSHH. Come on. I can't emotionally over-invest in people that have committed relationships because they have boundaries. HEH! Laaaaaame. They're missing out on this hot mess of emotional co-dependency! YOUR LOSS NOT-SINGLE PEOPLE, your loss****.

     YOUR ENTIRE SELF.

     Homegirl, you know what's better and/or more precious than all those things listed up yonder?

     Youuuu.

     And when you're single, you get to spend a lot of time with you yourself and you. It can lead to a lot. Epiphanies. Crises. Breakthroughs. Breakdowns. Meltdowns. Upswings. New starts.

     And it's okay. Because you can't break up with yourself, and if there's anyone who knows you well enough to carry you through the journey of being you, it's... you. *sniff*
 
     So please. Enjoy yourself. The day will come when you have to share yourself with another person, probably for the rest of your life, and probably when you don't always want to. So while you have this precious alone-time, make the most of it. Treat yourself. Challenge yourself. Humble yourself. AND PUMP YO-SELF UP BECAUSE GIIIIRRRRRRRLLLL, you are fiiine!


footnotes:

**If he doesn't buy you food, well. BREAK UP WITH HIM. BE SINGLE.

***If he doesn't buy you sparkly things, well. BREAK UP WITH HIM. BE SINGLE.

****Just do it already... *whispers maniacally* Breaaakkk uppp withhh himmmm

Make America Fabulous Again!

So Donald Trump is president now and most of you are upset about it. Sorry.

But please stop crying!!!! THERE IS HOPE!!! I called Donald last night and you'll be relieved to hear he has tweaked a lot of stances on things. I've compiled them all for you, along with his quotes on these pressing issues. Here are Donald's 5 Ways To Make America Fabulous Again.

1. Deport Grumpy People

"They're bringing sadness, they're bringing bad attitudes. They're grumpy. They have to go. Send them back to grumpy-town. They're stealing our happiness, they're making us mad, they're all going back to grumpy-town and they can come back when they are ready to put aside their grumpiness and make this country Cheerful Again."

2. Build a Wall . . . OF CHEESE

"And I always say the wall, we’re going to build the wall. It’s going to be a real deal. It’s going to be a real wall. A wall of REAL cheese. None of this fake cheese like in the Lunchables. Real cheese. Cheddar. Provolone. Havarti. All kinds of cheese in this wall, this wall will make America great, because people love cheese. They love it."

3. Replace Welfare Checks with Free Craft Supplies

"They don't need help. They need CRAFTS. Crafts make people happy. They love crafts. They can make crafts, they can sell their crafts, they can eat their crafts. It's a win-win for the American people. Crafts are fabulous."

4. Replace Guns with Marshmallow Shooters

"Frankly everybody should be allowed to use marshmallows, in self-defense of course. Frankly, things in Paris would have been different if they had marshmallows flying in the opposite direction, get me? Guns kill people, and that's a shame. But marshmallows don't kill people. Marshmallows are soft and squishy. Marshmallows are better, much better, and I think everyone should be allowed to use them."

5. Tax Cuts for Beautiful People

"Beautiful people don't get a break in this country. There's women walking around who are absolutely a ten, absolutely, and they're paying more in taxes than someone who's a four. I think that's ridiculous. Beautiful people need money to maintain themselves. Plastic surgery, extensions, implants, all very important and these poor beautiful people deserve to use their hard-earned money to help better themselves. I will cut taxes for the beautiful people. The beautiful people deserve nothing less."

And so, I think you'll see that Donald's UPDATED plan is actually... kind of pretty okay! AMERICA IS GOING TO BE FINE! Calm down and let this man do his work! We will have cheese walls, crafts, more beautiful people, less gun violence, no more grumpy people.... and that's the America *I* want to be part of. 

DISCLAIMERTHISISNOTMEANTOINANYWAYSUPPORTANYPOLITICALSTANCEWHATSOEVER. THANKYOUANDGOODNIGHT.

Let's Get Intimate, Woo Hoo

Google "intimacy".

But don't actually, because I'm going to tell you everything you need to know. *wiggles eyebrows*

When you look up intimacy, you'll get 28361280196318097 results that are all about intimacy... with people. Usually romantic partners. Go figure. *throws papers everywhere* We get it, we get it, relationships are great. #singleandbitter

But however you describe the term, whether it's as "close familiarity or friendship"" or "closeness of observation; familiarity with a subject" I think it's something we alllll neeeeeeed. Because we were made for it, we are GOOD at it. And we SHOULD do it/get it/feel it.

But where we find it varies.

Sometimes you find it with people, but I don't think you always have to. It feels great to know someone closely; bonding is nice. But. People also kinda suck a little bit! *shrugs* So like... can we not?!?!?

How about that second definition. You know, "closeness of observation"? Woah yeah woah what about that?! You know what THAT sounds like?

The Scientific Method?! Stalking? 

No and NO.

PAUSE!

I have a theory I'd like to share. Now don't get me wrong. I ain't no professional. I don't even have a bachelor's degree. *laughs nervously* But what I do have is this THEORY, this theory that we are naturally built to be creatures who show intimacy in a variety of areas. In our relationships, in our connection to nature, in our ART and WORK and PASSIONS!

Think about it... all the best things in life are somehow fostered into a good thing by intimacy.

People use intimacy with each other to grow loving relationships.

An artist uses intimacy with his craft to make it more beautiful. 

A scientist uses intimate observations to learn and discover.

All these things are structured around an idea of intentional, valuable intimacy experience of some kind. Whether it's sex in a relationship or hard work in research or even just repetitive practice at an art form, intimacy makes things better.

So.

I'd argue that where you pursue intimacy (with a person, place, or thing) is where your life is the best.

So, yeah, now that that's out there. Back to my question about what "closeness of observation" sounds like to me. (Cuz it's all about me right?!)

It sounds like... mindfulness. *birds chirping in the background*

Yeah... mindfulness.

That thing I do in therapy where I clear my brain of chaos and strife and become one with my surroundings?! YES SARAH, YES!

We expect artists and scientists and lovers to all practice intimacy in order to succeed at whatever they're up to. But when do we ever take the time to foster intimacy with something much more BASIC and also more CRUCIAL than any of those things? Do we EVER?!

Nah bitch! WE DON'T!

We are carried through life by a whirlwind of external forces, emotions, words, events, and messages. And we experience it all at a surface level. Is it possible we are always "just skating by" in work and school and maybe even relationships?

I think we have lost the art of intimacy. We have lost the art of throwing our consciousness into a practiced, intentional awareness of OUR OWN LIFE. Our own being. Our own breathing. Our own mental patterns. So, how can we expect that part of our life to show the beautiful fruits we see from art and science and love?

We can't. Not until we take the time to re-learn intimacy, and specifically, intimacy with our own being, and the environment around us. And to do this takes a LOT of work. I've been practicing for weeks and I'm just now starting to see the WONDROUS BENEFITS. *ooooohhh ahhhhh*

All this to say, guys.... gosh, what even am I trying to say.... HERE'S SOME BULLET POINTS

-intimacy makes us feel good
-we were made to do it
-it's not just sex ok
-mindfulness is good
-maybe get therapy?!
-again intimacy is a good practice
-so yeah mindfulness
-mindfulness

So try it. Do it. Get it. Feel it. Practice it.

Mindfulness guys, it's great.

Intimacy, man, I'm learning how to do it.

I Can Survive a Bad Week, Canoe? (HAAAAAAA)

Well guys,

LIFE GOT CRAZY FOR A WHILE THERE. Last week was a low point. *laughs nervously*

Some changes were made in my life, changes that have been a long time coming and were so nervewracking they sent me into an emotional frenzy that hijacked any chance of having a normal week despite the chaos.

But I would like to point out that despite the fact that last week I spent three hours in crisis counseling, slept a night in my car, and burst into tears in my accounting class...

I'm still smiling. (Except when I'm not.)

Crisis mode can actually carry us. I picture myself in a little canoe in the middle of dark, frenzied ocean. During crisis mode, I don't even try to paddle anywhere. I hang tight, maybe curl up in the fetal position, and wait it out.

It was a rough storm, and I'm relieved it's over because being stuck in a canoe in the middle of the ocean sucks (what is Sarah talking about??).

But now the gusts have settled, and the water is still. It's time to move this little boat. And that's gonna be work. Because that storm moved me off track. And this damn paddle isn't very good. But, we're moving, rolling, rolling on the riiiiiivvvvEEEeeeeerrrrr.

Sorry.

Anyway,

HERE WE GO! Onward, back into normalcy, back into calm quiet days spent working towards the important things (school, friends, not-getting-fired...).

I'll see ya guys on the other side. *starts paddling fervently*

(There WAS Love.)

So.

You may know I have a person in my past who was, to put it tastefully, very bad.

If you didn't know that, you probably haven't been here before, and so you wouldn't know that I started this blog in order to give myself a creative outlet to help me recover from a long-term, ugly relationship with a person who is, I repeat, very bad.

(Welcome, by the way!)

I carelessly refer to him as Jerkface in conversation with those who know the backstory. But the truth is, he's more than just a jerk. He's dark. Twisted. Charming. Sneaky. Smart. Compelling. Abusive.

And the worst part is that you can add to the list:

Loved.

There it is. *ugh*

People usually just say, "Wow! What an awful guy. I'm sorry that happened to you" and I say, "I'm sorry it happened too" and it ends there.

But what I desperately want to add to the sentence is "I'm sorry it happened... I'm sorry I still care."

It's scary and upsetting and uncomfortable to care. But I do.

And you know... it's okay. Because that's love.

Despite the fact this is now my (however you slice it) abuse story, it was also my love story. I'm sorry if that makes you throw up (I'm talking to you, mom) or get mad. But it was love. It was loss. And I need to be sad about it sometimes.

So sometimes I'll admit it. And if you listen, thank you.

* * * * * *

     He was punching holes in walls and I was making 911 calls.

(We were holding hands and making jokes and cooking casseroles.)

     He swerved off the road screaming "I oughtta kill us both!"

(He massaged my aching neck when we got home.)

     There was cursing.

           (There was loving.)

                  There was abusing. 
                       
                       (There was loving.)
   
                             There was hurting.

                                  (THERE WAS LOVING.)

          There was choosing.

               (And I know he chose wrong.)

          But it's so confusing.

               (My enemy held me all night long.)
     
          And I'm still losing...

              (I'm still fighting a war that can never be won.)

               But I still love love.

               And love is never done.

A Comprehensive Life Update in Three Parts

I have good news and bad news.

THE BAD NEWS: I have nothing to write about.

THE OTHER BAD NEWS: I'm writing anyway.

THE GOOD NEWS: ...

So, let's get started. Today we have three topics I'd like to update you on:

PART ONE: My dating life.
PART TWO: My academics.
PART THREE: My mental health.

PART ONE: Dating

I'd like to provide you with some completely made-up statistics about UNCA, the kinda weird wonderful school I attend.

40% of UNCA students are men.

39.5% of UNCA students have "man buns".

98% of men with man buns are un-datable by Sarah Kane approved standards.

So you see, that means only 0.0001% of UNCA men ARE datable by my standards, which leaves me in a bit of pickle.

END OF PART ONE.

PART TWO: Academics

Well, I'd like to say there's a glimmer of hope in this section!

I've tried a new technique called "getting by by the seat of my pants".

IT WORKS PEOPLE, IT WORKS!

My grades are down, but so are my stress levels, and REALLY, which is going to shave more years off of my life? A "C" in astronomy or a mental breakdown? YOU TELL ME.

PART THREE: Mental Health

Again, glimmers of hope here folks! I've been going to therapy every other week for about two months now and I am absolutely stunned by the progress I've made. I recommend it to anyone. I'd like to do an illustration of me before and after therapy drawn by yours' truly.

BEFORE:                                                             AFTER:

 

So, you could say things are going A-okay over here in Sarah-ville.

Each day is a learning process.

Things have been hard. Good. Scary. Productive. Important. Interesting.

I wouldn't change a thing.

God is Dead. (At least, the one I made up in my head is.)

Today I had therapy. My counselor came out to the lobby to collect me where I was pretending to read a magazine, but was really waiting anxiously.

"How are you?" He asked on the pilgrimage back to his office, and I just laughed. 

"How are YOU?" I threw back, and he laughed, harder than I did.

"Have a seat," my counselor began.

"I've had a spiritual breakthrough," I immediately confessed as I flopped onto his office couch, stretching out in the stereotypical languid patient position. (I enjoy playing the part on that blue couch, I must say.)

"Ah," he said. "Go on."

"I think I've been doing my faith... All wrong."

"Is faith something you DO?" He asked.

"It was something I THOUGHT," I said. "It was all a mental game."

My counselor looks intrigued and interested, something that during our first sessions made me uneasy. He seems caring, even admiring, in a way that made me nervous. I didn't like how friendly and open he was in offering himself as not only a professional but a sympathetic audience. I wanted a doctor, not an carer. But in time, I've come to appreciate the organic conversations that lead to honest thoughts from us both. 

This man occasionally checks out from the role of counselor, and becomes a fellow soldier in the battle of "figuring this shit out". 

"Yeah. Mental games." I repeat. "It's all been mental games I play with myself, not real FAITH. Mental games."

He starts to open his mouth, then stops. Then starts, finally.  "I was raised Catholic," he says. He waits for my nod of understanding before continuing. "And it was a lot of mental games. We had catechisms. A literal list of questions and answers and it was a mental game for me too. It takes a long time to separate the mental games you learned to play from the reality of what you believe."

I stare at the bright painting on the wall over his head. "What I believe..." I trail off. "I've always believed what I believe now, but something... Clicked. About God."

He puts down his pen and I feel as if our therapy session is on pause (at least usual trauma/drama/nightmare stuff that brought me to therapy in the first place). 

"You may have always had a cerebral faith." He says. "A faith that you comprehended and evaluated mentally, and accepted. But perhaps there's a true, spiritual knowledge of God you've experienced now."

I nod. 

"What has changed with God?" He asks softly.

I reflect, and finally begin. "I used to feel constant guilt. There was a constant judge breathing down my neck. I used to always feel a giant 'to-do' list looming in the
background. And I felt like he was always disappointed in me. I was never enough for
him. I never cared enough. Did enough. Thought about him enough. Prayed enough. You know."

"And how do you feel now?"

"I feel... Like I have space." I laugh. "I took a bath the other night and for the first time in years I felt truly alone. I felt peace. I felt like there wasn't anybody with me... Even Him. And I only say that because... I didn't feel scared of Hell or God or Satan or anything... I just felt... Calm."

My counselor nods. "God is love. Do you believe that?"

I shrug. "If He's there, which... I want him to be... Because if He's not then I don't even see the point of life..." I stop myself from rambling. "Yes. If He's there, He's love." 

"So what are you SCARED of?" My counselor asks. "He's love. He is love. What's scary about love? Isn't love what you want?"

"Perfect love casts out fear," I recite from the depths of my mind. "Do I really believe that? Because... I've been secretly scared of him for all these years." 

"Fear and love are opposites." My counselor holds his fists as far apart as they will reach. "They can't exist on the same plane. You can't have perfect love when you're secretly stuck in fear. You just can't. And maybe what's gone now is your fear."

"God was always just so... Mean!" I burst out. "I've just wanted him to shut up for years! I've been in trapped in a constant conversation with him that makes me feel horrible about myself, and I can't ever escape because the conversation is INSIDE ME, but now..." I want to cry right there on the blue couch. "Now he's quiet. The room feels empty when I'm alone. And I like it." I pause and make eye contact with my counselor. "So... I guess what I'm saying is, I'm not sure if God is even there anymore. And I don't feel terrible or guilty. I just feel relieved."

My counselor begins delicately, "I don't think it's that he's not there. I think you're seeing him in a new way. Maybe he's speaking in ways beyond words. In a way that goes your cerebral knowledge of him. If you're finding peace..." He shrugs. "Maybe you're finding God. In a new way. In the right way."

I nod, overwhelmed with the fact that since I've quieted my brain and my judgements and my self-criticism and my pre-conceived ideas and my habitual GUILT... I've quieted God. 

But not the real God. 

I've quieted a god I made up, who is really just a version of myself that is almost.... A bit abusive. Confusing. Scary. Mean. Loud.

And now that THAT made-up-God is out of the picture (or at least, on his way out of the picture) maybe I'll find out what the God I TRULY believe in, believe in through faith, not mind-games, has to say.  

My counselor gives me a big "thumbs up" at the end of our time. 

"This was a good shift." He says. "The trauma will be waiting for us next week. Try and keep up this whole 'not being scared' thing," he finishes with a smile.

I swing my feet off the blue couch and walk out the door. I don't feel an instant flood of anxiety, regret, or guilt. I don't wonder what I said wrong or didn't say well or what God is thinking of the fact I said I want him to shut up. No. No judge breathing down my neck. 

Just a sense of calm. A sense of being. A sense of love. 

Be Quiet

I arrived home moments ago from the loud, intense world I revolve in and ran a hot bath. As I sank into the water I felt a feeling that eluded me for years. Peace. Serenity. True and utter quiet. 

Growing up I had these moments. I remember them. Being nine years old, reading a hardcover copy of an old book before bed and flicking out the lamp, sliding under the cool sheets. Feeling my eyes close over a brain that had no worries, no stress, no on-going trauma to survive. Just drifting and resting in a state of peace and calm.

The years following slowly taught me to slip into a state of constant turmoil. Dark middle school days had me trapped in a cycle of guilt, confession, and relapse. Repeat. It doesn't matter what the subject was. I felt guilty about everything. I distinctly remember feeling deep pangs of conviction while putting on mascara at age 15, because I felt vain for liking it. By the age of 17, I found myself a stressed, complex, guilt-ridden girl. Maybe the pressure was self-induced. Maybe it was a product of the Christian doctrine I was fed by so called Christian leaders in my life. 

Regardless, a pattern began early on that trained me to keep my brain in a state of turmoil, problem-solving, and self-improvement. 

Every action became spiritual, and thus, a mental game of motive analysis. Makeup became vanity. Boys became lust. Clothes became low self-esteem. Homework became laziness. Words on the radio became messages, convictions. 

Everything was taken seriously, as an indicator for something spiritual.

It was to the point where, at 17, when I closed the bedroom door at night I no longer felt that sense of calm I did as a child; I felt a spiritual battleground that was waiting for me to wrestle with my sin. Any thought was a spiritual entity, of course. Any thought against God was a doubt, any thought for God was faith, and any guilt was obviously the Holy Spirit working in me. And so I listened to every single thought- every single glimmer of idea in my brain- and immediately categorized them in some spiritual way. 

And this was not healthy.

Somewhere along the way I forgot how to be still.

My human mind, which is soft and fragile, was fighting to understand and analyze every part of itself.

I forgot how to be quiet.

I forgot how to be alone.

I learned how to live under the constant scrutiny of my own judgement and opinion. Under the spiritual forces that I so strongly believed dictated my every thought and move. I was never alone, because I was always being JUDGED. (By.... Me.) 

And my brain has learned how to carry on I this manner, keeping me trapped in a cycle of chaotic anxiety.

And of course, a sizable trauma in my life has only made things worse. A giant, "big deal" problem that my mind blames myself for has only served to strengthen this habit of constant self-analysis to the point where for the first time in my life I've experienced panic attacks, paranoia, and much more! *excited jazz hands*

So I've been going to therapy.

And something my counselor said on the very first day struck me. 

"Is your brain ever quiet?" 

I said, "no. It's not." 

"It can be," he smiled. "But you're going to have to teach it how, and that's going to be really hard."

I had never thought I could control what was going on up there *glances up into own brain*. I thought you could only stress about it.

But I'm awfully exhausted with the pattern. I've grown terrible tired of this three ring circus of anxiety, guilt, and paralysis. 

And I'm learning, slowly, how to be quiet again. 

It takes practice. There are techniques. 

But the most important thing was for me to realize that my brain can be quiet - my self analysis and critique can cease for however many minutes - and my world won't implode.

Lightening hasn't struck me.

The heavens haven't opened up and swallowed me.

I haven't become a wretchedly lost sinner.

In fact, in those hard-earned moments when I achieve true quiet, I sense God with me so much more than I do when my own brain is desperately fighting and panicking to make sense of Him and His ways through all my thoughts and feelings. 

Being quiet (truly, truly quiet) is nice.

It's important.

You should try it.

I am. 

Crying In Offices: PLANS CHANGE

So, this week was an emotional one for old SK.

Monday began with very little sleep after a long (fun... but long) weekend. I was late to my advising meeting, and arrived out of breath and lugging all my school supplies on one shoulder. I threw myself down and unrolled my MASTER PLAN FOR GRADUATING ON TIME and my advisor did something I didn't expect her to...

SHE LAUGHED AND LAUGHED AND LAUGHED.

"You're not graduating in a year!" She chortled. "It'll be at least THREE!"

And I cried and cried and cried.

"I'LL BE DEAD BY THEN," I wailed in anguish. "I'LL HAVE GRAY HAIR AND GRANDKIDS BY THEN! WHY MUST IT TAKE SO LONG!!"

"Because these classes," my advisor said gracefully, "....ALL HAVE PRE-REQS."

...and I cried... and I cried... and I cried...

"MOM!" I bellowed into the phone as I stormed out of the building. "IT'S GOING TO TAKE ME 17 MORE YEARS TO GRADUATE!" *tears upon tears upon tears*

I then explained to her that because of the nature of the classes in my major, I'm going to only need 6 more classes, but they are set up in a linear manner and can only be taken one after the other, THUS meaning while it will take me three years to graduate, I will only have one or two classes I need at a time, THUS meaning I'll be a part-time student.

MEH.

After some more weeping and gnashing of the teeth my mom said the dreaded words that no one wants to hear when they feel unjustly persecuted by cruel fate:

"Maybe it's all for the best."

BUT MOM, I LIKE BEING MAD ABOUT THIS!

"Maybe you can work more hours at the Y, save up money, have an interesting minor or something. Maybe it's for the best."

BUT

Maybe...

Yeah. That. 

Maybe it is for the best. 

And so, as my seething anger dissipated under my mother's soothing rationale, I realized:

MAYBE IT IS FOR THE BEST!

And so, this post serves not only as a public announcement that I'm going to be "in the area" for a whiiiiile... it also serves as a beautiful reminder of what we all should do in these kinds of situations.

CALL OUR MOMS!

Thank you, and goodnight.

The Practical Girl's Guide to Creeps

*sips mimosa* Oh - hello there, Reader. *rises from lounge chair and strolls towards you in a floor length white gown* 

Today, we're going to talk about the unwanted attentions of attractive, classy men. Something I know ALL about. *flips hair, lighthearted laughter*

Well, actually, no... I don't know about that. But what I do know about is what EVERY woman knows about.

CREEPS.

This post is not a serious one on the nature of horrible, evil men. No. I've written other posts on that topic *laughs bitterly*. Rather, I'd like to offer a few casual ideas to implement into your "you're creepy, stop it" arsenal. That's why today I'm here to give you:

THE PRACTICAL WOMAN'S GUIDE TO DEALING WITH BUMPTIOUS MALES

*applause*

And, I'd like you to notice how this article is not just about creepy people, but rather - bumptious creepy people. It's one thing to deal with slightly unnervingly weird people, but those suitors who may also be "self-assertive or proud to an irritating degree; pushy, pompous, overbearing, cocky, swaggering" are an entirely different matter, and these tips are tailored specifically for these kinds of people.

TIP #0: Avoid people!

This is a guaranteed way to get creepy people to leave you alone, butttttttt granted, it's probably not what you came here to hear, thus the designation as tip #0. But really, I recommend avoiding people whenever possible! It works.


TIP #1: Make use of less creepy people in order to combat the creepier ones.

For example - if a super creepy guy is trying to talk to you at a party (I wouldn't know, I don't go to parties...) you just need to find someone slightly less creepy who is willing to provide an escape from the creepiest person. So, the situation would look something like this...

Creepiest Person: Hey baaaaabe, you want to dance?
You: Oh, wow... I'd love to, but... *sights only moderately creepy person* Gotta go! *runs to creepy person*
Creepy Person: Hey!
You: HEYYY BEST FRIEND
Creepiest Person: Well, time to move on...

And then, once Creepiest Person is eliminated from the situation, all you need to do is ditch Creepy Person and, well, you're done! No more Creeps!

Capiche? Capiche. 


TIP #2: Let your friends handle it.

This means, upon receipt of an unwanted advance whether over phone call or text, handing the mobile device to a well-trusted friend. (Preferably one with a sense of humor.) Friends LOVE handling other people's bumptious males. It gives them a sense of fulfillment and also makes them feel trusted and included in your problems. It's a win-win!


TIP #3: Employ the "Mall Kiosk" principle. (AKA "Be Rude")

This isn't going to be easy for you pushovers well-mannered ladies, but I can assure you with practice you will get better. I want you to imagine that every creepy person who approaches you in a social setting is actually a man at a mall kiosk. Guy says, "hey can I get yo numbah?" and you might feel a sense of - well - pity, and... obligation. You might start to ramble about how you're sort of single but blah blah blah, and before you know it, Creepo has moved in for the kill. FAIL!

However. If a guy says, "hey can I sell you this overpriced flat-iron?", you KNOW your money is in grave danger and you put your shades over your eyes and speed-walk away. So just remember: if it works at the mall, it'll work anywhere. USE THE MALL-KIOSK PRINCIPLE WHENEVER POSSIBLE! Especially when there's more at stake than a flat-iron, ladies. THIS IS YOUR REPUTATION!


TIP #4: Give them your father's phone number.

This one is just for your own amusement.


TIP #5: Lie.

Do I need to explain this? Tell him you're engaged. MARRIED. Have herpes. No speak English. WHATEVER IT TAKES. Girl, I want your creative writing skills to SHINE. Trust me, I've seen my blogging greatly benefit from situations where I've had to employ falsehood. Some helpful examples of how to lie your way out of creeps are as follows:

Question: "Hey girl, you single?"
LIE: "No, well kinda, well - he gets of prison really soon - so I'm gonna go with no!"

Question: "Hey girl, wanna come over?"
LIE: "Yeah! Let me ask my dad if he'll bring me since I don't have my after-nines yet!"

Question: "Hey girl, can I take you to dinner?"
LIE: "Sorry, I'm not allowed to eat dinner! It's part of my religion. We have lotsssss of rules. I can't use utensils orhavesexbeforemarriagehahaha... But maybe we can get breakfast sometime!"

Question: "Hey girl, you looking for a good time?"
LIE: "Yeah, I need a distraction. Living with a highly contagious and crippling disease is really getting me down!"

Feel free to use these! I won't even ask for royalties.



*scene shimmers back into introductory setting*

*Sarah strolls toward you sipping on a mimosa*

And so, this brings us to the end of the Practical Girl's Guide to Creeps. I hope this helps. Just remember, for every good-looking, classy, well-mannered man, there's approximately 3874926862937281953 creeps out there.

Be careful ladies.

AND GOOD LUCK

The Remarkable Effectiveness of "Just Getting On With It"

Well, folks, Sarah Kane's life is slowly inching along, one assignment, shift, and day at a time. As September draws to a close, it's tempting for me to start analysing myself to death and stressing non-stop...

Pop QUIZ! Which of these things makes me stress non-stop?

a) the fact that it's been a year since I've been home
b) school
c) WINTER IS COMING AND THAT MAKES ME SAD
d) It's just my inherent nature to stress non-stop
e) All of the above

If you answered E...

100% A+ Good Job CORRECT

It's just that time. Summertime is fairly stress-free for me. Spring is great. Christmas break is usually less terrible than anticipated.

But this awful season when winter starts to loom, OH, that does it for me! *WHINES* Between school and work and avoiding stalkers and all those other fun 20-year-old things, I'm due for a cry about every 15.8 hours or so*.

But you know? I've started this new thing, where instead of letting myself be sad, lonely, irritated, or what have you, I just look myself in the eye and say "GET ON WITH IT!"

I've just had to.

Because school and work don't stop for a pity party sesh you know?!

I've found functioning on a daily basis is getting harder and harder. It could be because it actually IS getting harder (school. work. people. all getting harder!) or it could be because I'm getting worse at doing stuff. I've finally had to admit to myself that this gigantic trauma thing that happened to me last year has really done a number on a few things (you know, like my self-confidence, tolerance for people, sensitivity levels, idealist worldview, naive hopefulness, etc. etc. oh darn).

SO YEAH! Things aren't that easy!

But you know what works?

Just. Getting. On. With. It.

I can stop all day to analyse how hard things are for me right now, but that won't get things done. You know what gets things done? Doing things. So, people, I'm doing things. Repress your feelings! Ignore yourself! JUST DO THINGS! Push through. Carry on. Fight it out.

It works!

*two thumbs up*

*official statistical chart on "hours Sarah spends crying" coming soon.

How to Make Friends and Then Slowly Drift Away from Them

Making friends is hard.

That's evident by the amount of friends I currently claim - around five! And I mean friends, as in people who really know me, care about me, and are with me in life...

Obviously, there are more than five people who know me well, and hopefully more than five people care about me, but not many of those people are with me. With me in the sense that I can pick up the phone, call them, and say "HEY!!! Starting my new job today, wish me LUCK!" and not have them require a 16 page backstory to figure out what I'm talking about.

Was it always this hard to make friends?

No.

Friends used to just sort of... happen. 

Friends were as much a part of life as losing teeth and watching your bangs grow out. I didn't consciously orchestrate friendship, it was just there.

I don't know what it was about these simpler days that made friendship such a "for granted" fact. Maybe kids are just better at friendship at adults. I don't know. I don't know what happens between ages 7 and 17 and that so vastly changes a person's ability to connect with others in a simple, meaningful way that truly affects their life. Because I know for me, it's gotten really hard.

There are so many people that were a huge part of my childhood and young life. People I saw every day. People that were part of the practice grounds where we learned how to love, gossip, hold grudges, have crushes, create inside jokes, argue, agree, relate, and change.

I'd like to bless you with some photos of me and the people that had the privilege of "being my friend" in my, well, AWKWARD YEARS. 

AND, Obviously, there are some of those friendships that have truly and deeply lasted...

But then, there's so many friendships that haven't. (See picture 2 for a good view of about, oh, FIVE PEOPLE WHO HATE MY GUTS NOW). 

And it's not a bad thing that I (along with the other party) eventually grew out of a lot of those relationships... is it?

WAIT WAIT WAIT. Back it up. Why do we even HAVE friends in the first place?!

Pretty much any two kids can play together, and find a way to make things work. Friendship is something they NEED. They need friends because they need playmates. They need someone to be the other action figure. Someone to be the other baby-doll mom. Someone to cook for in the play kitchen. For kids, it's just all part of play. 

But what is it for adults? Why do we need friends? I know for me, it's become quite complex. 

I need people to listen to me whine. People to hug me when I'm sad. People to make me laugh. People to support me in my scary choices. People to make me feel like I'm supportive. 

It's become so hard to make and maintain friendships, partly because existing seems to have become much harder. When I was a child, life was easy and friends were perks. Now that I'm grown, life is hard and friendships are another thing on the checklist. Work. 

That sucks though. I want to go back to the way it was before! Where we just had friends because we needed them to make our fun funner. You know, like.... CAMP FRIENDS!

Relationships are different now that I'm out of high school and I'm not "friends by obligation" with the people around me. The places I've met "friend material" people have surprised me. Camp. Work. Class. The Internet. People I met at military bases. People I meet at concerts. Friends of friends. Bible studies. Church. Moms of kids I babysit. Etc. Etc. 

And while I don't always find "friends" out of these people, every now and then someone ends up sticking, and a beautiful friendship is formed. 

So... what was I trying to get at here?

Oh yeah. Friendship isn't as simple as used to be. 

It's quite hard. And I think that's a direct result of how complicated life and myself have become. 

But it's okay, because I still have a few friends.

THE END.