It was 59 degrees in Des Moines today. I walked outside and smelled fresh rain, and I could have sworn it was March. In fact, I went to lunch with a friend today and neither of us wore coats. We also drank Corona Lights (I only had one seeing as I went to work right after), which is an obligatory summer drink. However, it is obviously not March, and definitely not summer. No, instead it is the 30th of December, which means 2010 is almost over. Following that trend of logic, it is time for my end of the year reflection. So, drumroll please. 2010 was... fantastic.
I started off the year with a bang as I followed my beloved Hawkeyes to Miami for the Orange Bowl. I drove 27 hours with my friends Anne and Jake, stopping only once in the parking lot of a janky motel in Georgia to sleep for a few hours. It was altogether a terrible idea and exactly the type of thing you should do on a college roadtrip. We stayed in a hostel in Miami and met a lot of interesting people, most memorable being a guy named Beethoven from Finland. Beethoven lived his life according to the roll of the dice. Seriously, he would write down a list of 6 things and roll the dice, doing whatever corresponded to the number he rolled. This practice is what led him to Miami on his world tour, as well as doing other unsavory things that made us happy he wasn't in our room.
Shortly after that trip, I started student teaching in a freshman English classroom. Student teaching is the culminating "assessment" of your teacher training, and I was immensely excited to have actual students to give my lessons. I had a young cooperating teacher and we got along famously. I also contend that I had the absolute best students possible. They taught me a lot about myself and gave me plenty of good stories. My mom enjoyed my student teaching almost more than I did because she got to hear everything after school during our routine chips and salsa binge. I looked desperately for a teaching job throughout the spring, and left for England in May unemployed. I had faith that everything would work out, so I tried to take it in stride.
England was absolutely the experience of a lifetime. I studied abroad there before, so in a way it felt like returning for round two even though this time I would be working as a teacher. I was on the Southern coast of the country, which is a much different experience than being in London. It was quiet and slow, but nice because I experienced a type of British culture I hadn't before. I met some amazing girls who took it upon themselves to show me a good time, and a good time it was. After two months abroad, I was ready to walk on American soil again, mainly because I have an atrocious iced coffee habit, and iced coffee is non-existent in Europe.
The summer closed out with the realization that I would not have a teaching job for the fall, which was depressing and exhilarating simultaneously. How's that for conflicting emotions? It was depressing because nobody wants to be unemployed and living with their parents, but exhilarating because it meant that I had a wide open palate for life and could do whatever I wanted. The latter realization didn't come right away, I admit, and I had a certain amount of depression regarding the situation. But I'm not one to sit on the sidelines of life and let things happen to me. If you know me, you know I am much more of a proactive person who is more likely to take my destiny into my own hands.
I spent the fall readjusting to living in the same bedroom I had in high school. I spent a good amount of time giving it a face lift and refining my belongings. (Not that anybody cares, but it has a more vintage feel to it now: from the thrift store find Italian pewter dish which holds my favorite jewelry, to my grandma's 1939 edition of Wuthering Heights, to the vase of dried flowers I've been collecting since I was 15.) I also tried to refine my relationships and my habits. I dedicated more time to cultivating my relationships - both old and new - and took it upon myself to learn as much about my dad's law firm as possible. As a result, I have a good base of people surrounding me and I've gained a lot more responsibility and respect at the office. By spending so much time at the firm, I also realized how much I enjoy working in the law and helping people in that way, which led to my decision to take the LSAT.
That brings us to this winter, which has thus far been surprisingly satisfying. I say surprisingly because I generally don't like the Christmas season for reasons I don't care to blog about. I would rather be generous and kind year-round, but that's just me. So, that I've met some really amazing people even within the last few weeks is satisfying and exciting as 2011 rapidly approaches.
I am planning on bringing in the new year one of a handful of places, exactly which I'm not entirely sure of yet. This uncertainty would normally stress me out, but if there is one thing I have learned in 2010, it is that everything happens for a reason. My, does it ever.
So, to you and yours, may you have a very blessed new year... and welcome, 2011. I am very exciting for what you have in store.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Vain, gutsy faith.
The digital age is also the age of vanity. That is, those in my generation are vain because we've always had a technological platform to spout off our thoughts and opinions. Back in the day (to use a cliche I actually quite adore), people actually had to be someone for others to listen. Now, you just need to register a domain with Blogspot, Wordpress, Facebook, Twitter, so on and so forth. This gives us a sense of empowerment with a side of entitlement, but I also think it means we're a vocal group of youngins'.
This is my place of vanity. Sure, I have Facebook and Twitter, but I don't actually do much with either site. I use Facebook to keep in touch with people, but were it not for my mates in England, I'd have no qualms about deleting my account. I don't like people all up in my business and I like to control what others know about me, and Facebook is rapidly encouraging the negation of my preferences in both areas. Twitter is where I spout off random thoughts that nobody cares about, and it is a place where you can really carve out who you are for other people to see. For instance, I've never Tweeted about how much I adore the state of Michigan, but I tweet about my teaching experiences. So, in the Twitter-sphere, my "followers" know I teach, but they don't know such a huge caveat of my personality - how I miss going to Michigan and think it's one of the greatest places in the entire world.
I address this only because I do have a purpose for this blog post, and I want to ensure it's understood why I'm discussing this topic here. I have no idea if anybody reads this. Were I a gambler, I would say no, nobody reads this. Why would they? I don't believe I have this URL published anywhere. In fact, I repeatedly tried to sign into Wordpress to find this account, only to figure out I used Blogspot. Yeah, obviously I'm the target blogger. So, this has become a type of journal for me, but a journal which has upped the ante because it is, but definition, public. It's not the reconstructed green journal I bought at a specialty store in the East Village. That is absolutely private, and they type of book I'd be horrified if it were read by anyone. No, instead this blog is a place for me to indulge my vanity in a very Kelli-way. Since I don't throw this URL out there, in a weird way I am controlling the information that people see, because they likely won't see this. That's a but metacognitive, so let's just move along now, shall we.
Let me discuss a little thing here called law school. This is a subject that has been dominating my thoughts for the past few weeks, and before that I had to deliberately push it to the back of my mind to focus on my classes. But now that I've finished them (I received an A in both, of course), I can indulge myself into my research and planning all I want. I get so much joy out of doing this, it's unnecessarily nerdy. Regardless, I've been researching a great deal. There is a website that is uncreatively named www.top-law-schools.com, which has a wealth of information about rankings, programs, and honest reviews from students and graduates. It also has a dynamic forum with absurds amounts of knowledge that I've been sifting through as I pound out my personal statement (I'm currently on draft #5). Like any internet site, there are truly articulate, thoughtful people who want to share their knowedge with others, right alongside people who post idiotic things that make me question the worth of humanity. Mixed in these posts are people who probably don't know how ridiculous they sound, and this is where my thoughts for this blog form.
I would never be cavalier to say that something is absolutely going to happen. I consciously preface statements about law school with a "if I get in" qualifier, because I do believe in Karma (in a Christian way, because I do love Jesus). I even go so far as to avoid the term "safety school", because nothing is guaranteed in this life, and law school admission is absolutely one of those uncertainties. Instead, I say things like "_____ isn't my first choice." But I digress... Without going into the "law school lingo," let's just say there are a bunch of dumbos on these forums, and it's hard not to sit there and think that if they can get into law school, I definitely can.
I have absolute faith that what is supposed to happen will. In fact, I know that I have no real say in the matter, because there are things at work much more influential and powerful than I. Sure, I need to work hard and try my best, but everything happens for a reason. I believe in the deepest part of my heart that this is the right thing for me to do - to try. I know that if I didn't, I would wonder for the rest of my life if I should've gone to law school. At least this way, I know. All I want to do is to make a difference in somebody's life. I want to go to work everyday and make the world a little bit better in some way. That is my dream job. I know that teachers do that, but I am also a firm believe that there are a lot of teachers in the field who shouldn't be, because if there is one profession that deserves only members who are absolutely passionate about what they do, it's teachers. So, personally, for me to enter to field without that passion is hypocritical and retroactive.
That leads me to law school. The profession fulfills a lot of things I was lacking in teaching: the mental challenge and stimulation, the individual nature of the job, and the go-get-'em mentality that defines many areas of law. I could sit here all day and strengthen my argument and tie up loose ends - afterall, I did study non-stop for the LSAT not a few weeks ago. But the important part is doing what you know is right. I follow my gut without blinking. It never steers me wrong, and even when I think it has, the situation usually just hasn't fully panned out yet.
That gut feeling is what led me to be the crappiest friend in the world leading up the LSAT. That gut is why I willingly do the bitch work at the office every day. That gut is why I sit at Mars Cafe on a Wednesday night and handwrite 4 different versions of an introduction instead of go out for martinis at the Lift. When I went to pick up my drunk friend from a bar at 1:30 this morning and her friend asked me what I did, that gut is why I answered without thinking, "I'm going to law school."
Faith is a great thing.
This is my place of vanity. Sure, I have Facebook and Twitter, but I don't actually do much with either site. I use Facebook to keep in touch with people, but were it not for my mates in England, I'd have no qualms about deleting my account. I don't like people all up in my business and I like to control what others know about me, and Facebook is rapidly encouraging the negation of my preferences in both areas. Twitter is where I spout off random thoughts that nobody cares about, and it is a place where you can really carve out who you are for other people to see. For instance, I've never Tweeted about how much I adore the state of Michigan, but I tweet about my teaching experiences. So, in the Twitter-sphere, my "followers" know I teach, but they don't know such a huge caveat of my personality - how I miss going to Michigan and think it's one of the greatest places in the entire world.
I address this only because I do have a purpose for this blog post, and I want to ensure it's understood why I'm discussing this topic here. I have no idea if anybody reads this. Were I a gambler, I would say no, nobody reads this. Why would they? I don't believe I have this URL published anywhere. In fact, I repeatedly tried to sign into Wordpress to find this account, only to figure out I used Blogspot. Yeah, obviously I'm the target blogger. So, this has become a type of journal for me, but a journal which has upped the ante because it is, but definition, public. It's not the reconstructed green journal I bought at a specialty store in the East Village. That is absolutely private, and they type of book I'd be horrified if it were read by anyone. No, instead this blog is a place for me to indulge my vanity in a very Kelli-way. Since I don't throw this URL out there, in a weird way I am controlling the information that people see, because they likely won't see this. That's a but metacognitive, so let's just move along now, shall we.
Let me discuss a little thing here called law school. This is a subject that has been dominating my thoughts for the past few weeks, and before that I had to deliberately push it to the back of my mind to focus on my classes. But now that I've finished them (I received an A in both, of course), I can indulge myself into my research and planning all I want. I get so much joy out of doing this, it's unnecessarily nerdy. Regardless, I've been researching a great deal. There is a website that is uncreatively named www.top-law-schools.com, which has a wealth of information about rankings, programs, and honest reviews from students and graduates. It also has a dynamic forum with absurds amounts of knowledge that I've been sifting through as I pound out my personal statement (I'm currently on draft #5). Like any internet site, there are truly articulate, thoughtful people who want to share their knowedge with others, right alongside people who post idiotic things that make me question the worth of humanity. Mixed in these posts are people who probably don't know how ridiculous they sound, and this is where my thoughts for this blog form.
I would never be cavalier to say that something is absolutely going to happen. I consciously preface statements about law school with a "if I get in" qualifier, because I do believe in Karma (in a Christian way, because I do love Jesus). I even go so far as to avoid the term "safety school", because nothing is guaranteed in this life, and law school admission is absolutely one of those uncertainties. Instead, I say things like "_____ isn't my first choice." But I digress... Without going into the "law school lingo," let's just say there are a bunch of dumbos on these forums, and it's hard not to sit there and think that if they can get into law school, I definitely can.
I have absolute faith that what is supposed to happen will. In fact, I know that I have no real say in the matter, because there are things at work much more influential and powerful than I. Sure, I need to work hard and try my best, but everything happens for a reason. I believe in the deepest part of my heart that this is the right thing for me to do - to try. I know that if I didn't, I would wonder for the rest of my life if I should've gone to law school. At least this way, I know. All I want to do is to make a difference in somebody's life. I want to go to work everyday and make the world a little bit better in some way. That is my dream job. I know that teachers do that, but I am also a firm believe that there are a lot of teachers in the field who shouldn't be, because if there is one profession that deserves only members who are absolutely passionate about what they do, it's teachers. So, personally, for me to enter to field without that passion is hypocritical and retroactive.
That leads me to law school. The profession fulfills a lot of things I was lacking in teaching: the mental challenge and stimulation, the individual nature of the job, and the go-get-'em mentality that defines many areas of law. I could sit here all day and strengthen my argument and tie up loose ends - afterall, I did study non-stop for the LSAT not a few weeks ago. But the important part is doing what you know is right. I follow my gut without blinking. It never steers me wrong, and even when I think it has, the situation usually just hasn't fully panned out yet.
That gut feeling is what led me to be the crappiest friend in the world leading up the LSAT. That gut is why I willingly do the bitch work at the office every day. That gut is why I sit at Mars Cafe on a Wednesday night and handwrite 4 different versions of an introduction instead of go out for martinis at the Lift. When I went to pick up my drunk friend from a bar at 1:30 this morning and her friend asked me what I did, that gut is why I answered without thinking, "I'm going to law school."
Faith is a great thing.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Friendlies.
This will likely be the cheesiest blog I have ever written, but I'm feeling led to write it and I generally follow my gut feelings when they happen. I've been doing some thinking as 2010 comes to a close because it has easily been the most interesting, surprising, and dramatic year of my life. Yes, I am a dramatic person. I got over that years ago, and most people find they get used to it or even start to enjoy it. Either way, one of the things that I've had a lot of time to reflect on is the people I surround myself with and how lucky I am that I have this quirky, resilient, and dynamic friend base to call my own. So, among many things that I learned in 2010, appreciating those who deal with me every day is right up there. I commonly refer to "The List" when discussing my friendlies, and here it is. Pull out the tissues for tears, or the garbage can to act as a puke bucket.
Anna
This is Anna, arguably the best of the best. She one of the most creative people I know, which makes sense since she studied design in college. Even back in high school she was always making us presents instead of buying them, and they are still some of the coolest presents I've ever gotten. What I appreciate about Anna is that she is whole-heartedly who she is. Some people think she's just a typical blonde, but I know her to be incredibly insightful, introspective, and thoughtful, and she draws that out in other people as well.
Nichole
Nichole has the distinction of being the friend who is most unlike me. We have different goals, dreams, thoughts, and personalities, yet there has never been a time when that really matters all too much. What I love about Nichole is that she is truly a compassionate person and the best listener I know. It is entirely logical that she would go into nursing, and I have no doubt that she is amazing at what she does. She's constantly striving to be better - a better friend, wife, sister, nurse, daughter, you name it. We may not have the same ideals, but she still makes me want to be a better person every single day.
Rachel
I call Rachel my Sugar Mama because the summer we worked together as counselors, she really did give me money on a pretty consistent basis. I paid her back, in full, by the end of the summer, but what that really demonstrates is how giving Rachel is. She is undoubtedly the most generous, selfless person I know. And true to form, she would deny that statement to the end. She teaches history and government to high schoolers, and believe me, there are few people you'd rather have molding the minds of our future than Rachel. Plus, she makes me laugh all the time.
Kayla
There are plenty of pictures of Kayla and I where we look normal, but that really wouldn't do our friendship justice. I knew Kayla for nearly my entire childhood and we've had our fair share of stupid moments. She moved to San Diego about 2 years ago, and although that has provided me with one hell of a vacation, it also took away one of the craziest, genuine people I know and love. Kayla is exactly who she is all of the time, and doesn't give a damn if you don't like it. She's loyal to a fault and never once doubts that you mean what you say. The last time she was in Des Moines, we had an alcohol-induced tear fest in a bar (yes, we were those girls- get over it), and I told her it wouldn't be possible for me to love her any more that I do. Truer words haven't been spoken.
Anne
Easily one of the smartest, snarkiest people I know, Anne and I tend to banter when we're together. She's a really inquizzative, discerning person, and that translates into the type of friend she is. She'll simultaneously lighten the mood while verbally assaulting whoever has wronged you, and she'll do so in such a smartass way that the other person usually doesn't know what happened. Maybe this doesn't impress you, but I love this about Anne. She's also my anchor to Iowa City, although recently IC has become my excuse to visit Anne, and not the other way around.
Mallory
Mal Pal is one of my newer friends, and the most recent addition to 'The List.' We work together and get in trouble constantly for talking all the time. We're both the type of person who has a lot to say, and as such we've been called out for not letting people get a word in otherwise. So maybe not the best combination for other people, but Mal and I never fail to have a great time. She is really blunt and honest, which can take you off guard. But once you get on Mallory's good side, she's one of those friends you know will always fight your battle right along with you. For instance, the night this picture was taken was Halloween. I wasn't having the best night, but Mallory would not rest until I was lovin' life. She succeeded (clearly by the photographic evidence), and reminds me how to be a good friend.
I realize that for nearly all of humanity, this is a pointless blog post. And that's ok. I have a lot of things to say, but sometimes I just like to write for myself. I have been particularly thankful for this group of ladies recently, and as such it warranted a blog post. I could write more about all of my other amazing friends (like Sara, Julia, Rick, my England lovers, and of course my mom), but it's 2:35 in the morning so I'm going to stop.
I'm an idealistic 20-something. I've said that before, and I'm sure I'll say it again. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing even 6 months from now, but none of these people care or think any less of me. And I really, really love and appreciate that.
Here's to warm fuzzy and cheesy blog posts. You may end your puke-fest now.
Anna
This is Anna, arguably the best of the best. She one of the most creative people I know, which makes sense since she studied design in college. Even back in high school she was always making us presents instead of buying them, and they are still some of the coolest presents I've ever gotten. What I appreciate about Anna is that she is whole-heartedly who she is. Some people think she's just a typical blonde, but I know her to be incredibly insightful, introspective, and thoughtful, and she draws that out in other people as well.
Nichole
Nichole has the distinction of being the friend who is most unlike me. We have different goals, dreams, thoughts, and personalities, yet there has never been a time when that really matters all too much. What I love about Nichole is that she is truly a compassionate person and the best listener I know. It is entirely logical that she would go into nursing, and I have no doubt that she is amazing at what she does. She's constantly striving to be better - a better friend, wife, sister, nurse, daughter, you name it. We may not have the same ideals, but she still makes me want to be a better person every single day.
RachelI call Rachel my Sugar Mama because the summer we worked together as counselors, she really did give me money on a pretty consistent basis. I paid her back, in full, by the end of the summer, but what that really demonstrates is how giving Rachel is. She is undoubtedly the most generous, selfless person I know. And true to form, she would deny that statement to the end. She teaches history and government to high schoolers, and believe me, there are few people you'd rather have molding the minds of our future than Rachel. Plus, she makes me laugh all the time.
Kayla
There are plenty of pictures of Kayla and I where we look normal, but that really wouldn't do our friendship justice. I knew Kayla for nearly my entire childhood and we've had our fair share of stupid moments. She moved to San Diego about 2 years ago, and although that has provided me with one hell of a vacation, it also took away one of the craziest, genuine people I know and love. Kayla is exactly who she is all of the time, and doesn't give a damn if you don't like it. She's loyal to a fault and never once doubts that you mean what you say. The last time she was in Des Moines, we had an alcohol-induced tear fest in a bar (yes, we were those girls- get over it), and I told her it wouldn't be possible for me to love her any more that I do. Truer words haven't been spoken.
AnneEasily one of the smartest, snarkiest people I know, Anne and I tend to banter when we're together. She's a really inquizzative, discerning person, and that translates into the type of friend she is. She'll simultaneously lighten the mood while verbally assaulting whoever has wronged you, and she'll do so in such a smartass way that the other person usually doesn't know what happened. Maybe this doesn't impress you, but I love this about Anne. She's also my anchor to Iowa City, although recently IC has become my excuse to visit Anne, and not the other way around.
Mallory
Mal Pal is one of my newer friends, and the most recent addition to 'The List.' We work together and get in trouble constantly for talking all the time. We're both the type of person who has a lot to say, and as such we've been called out for not letting people get a word in otherwise. So maybe not the best combination for other people, but Mal and I never fail to have a great time. She is really blunt and honest, which can take you off guard. But once you get on Mallory's good side, she's one of those friends you know will always fight your battle right along with you. For instance, the night this picture was taken was Halloween. I wasn't having the best night, but Mallory would not rest until I was lovin' life. She succeeded (clearly by the photographic evidence), and reminds me how to be a good friend.
I realize that for nearly all of humanity, this is a pointless blog post. And that's ok. I have a lot of things to say, but sometimes I just like to write for myself. I have been particularly thankful for this group of ladies recently, and as such it warranted a blog post. I could write more about all of my other amazing friends (like Sara, Julia, Rick, my England lovers, and of course my mom), but it's 2:35 in the morning so I'm going to stop.
I'm an idealistic 20-something. I've said that before, and I'm sure I'll say it again. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing even 6 months from now, but none of these people care or think any less of me. And I really, really love and appreciate that.
Here's to warm fuzzy and cheesy blog posts. You may end your puke-fest now.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Return.
I haven't blogged in quite awhile. In fact, it has almost been an entire year since I wrote about measuring my life in semesters and reminisced about my illustrious college experience. A few things have remained consistent - I still maintain that my college years were the best of my life, I still have a love/hate relationship with Iowa City, and I am still more than a bit quirky - but more things have changed since I was the wide-eyed, almost-graduate walking across the stage after hearing a terrible graduation speech and sharing the event with the damn College of Business students.
For starters, I have been living in Des Moines for almost a year now. I commonly tell people I am living the dream because it usually elicits a chuckle or an appreciative smile, but truthfully I am living the reality of most people my age. I live with my parents, I fight with my parents, I am restless, and I am faking my way through a few jobs so I can make money to pay off my debts. And by "pay off my debts," I really mean "go out with those other people my age I referenced and drink beer and pretend that we've all never been happier."
Ok, that was a little dramatic. I actually am quite happy. Life treats me well, and I think I treat life well. I think this particularly when a few of my married friends tell me they live vicariously through me. I have a secret hypothesis that they say this only to make me feel better about some of my terrible life choices. Either way, life isn't perfect, and it's certainly not static, but what 20-something truly believes or wants that? I mean, isn't that the beauty of your 20s? You are the most idealistic you'll ever be and this means you can really pursue all that life has to afford. When something doesn't work out, a 20-something moves on to the next thing. We're malleable, we're flexible, we're the best kind of non-committed.
Ok, stop there.
When I started typing this blog entry, I didn't intend for it to be monumental or all that great, really (and I obviously succeeded at doing neither). In fact, I just wanted to breeze over the fact that it's been a year since I contributed to the blogosphere and move on to my original purpose behind digging up my username and password. So, we'll just move on, shall we?
As I mentioned, I work a few jobs. This sounds more taxing than it really is, but we'll just leave it at that so whoever reads this will think I am truly deserving of all the things that I want because I work so hard. With that in mind, one of my jobs can be described as a rollercoaster. For once, this isn't because it's a dramatic thing, but rather because what I do depends on a multitude of factors. So, I will go through phases of being ridiculously busy and yet spend hours doing nothing but doodling, surfing the web, and plotting ways to save the world. During one of these "valleys" today, I started free-writing. It came out in a Carrie Bradshaw-esque way, probably because I watched a lot of "Sex and the City" over Thanksgiving Break. I decided to post it because otherwise it will be forever lost on the hard drive of my computer, and I will read it sometime in the future and have no context for what I was thinking. So, without futher adu (and there was a lot of freaking adu leading up to this point), here is my SATC column. Oh, and no, it's not about me. It truly is about a friend of mine, so just stop trying to be clever and figure out the supposed analogies. It's just a waste of your brain's synopses.
“This Is Bullshit!”
By: Carrie Bradshaw (a.k.a. Kelli Russell)
I have a friend who met a guy at work a few months ago. After a flirtatious banter and a carefully orchestrated “asking for the phone number,” they met up for drinks one night and hit it off. The days following were a whirlwind of cute texts, cuter kisses, and the flutter-of-the-heart feeling that leaves you breathless but with oxygen the last thing on your mind.
Sometimes these stories end well, and you have relationships form. Sometimes both parties are content with the affair becoming one to remember, and nothing more. And still yet, sometimes the stories end before they even have a chance to move beyond the title page. But through the countless situations I or someone I know have been through, despite the numerous times we’ve faced ourselves in the mirror after being knocked off our feet, and the harsh conversations we've drunkenly had alone or in dialogue, it just never seems to stick. It seems like the only thing that has truly ingrained itself into our minds is the idea that we should give selflessly and wait with open arms for the moment when someone needs us. I know we're not alone in this morally charged, flawed character trait. But what I have noticed is that more often than the not, the one who winds up standing alone is the woman, as intelligent, discerning, real-world as she may be.
My friend is one such woman. Admittedly there is always fault with each member of a relationship; we are not debating perfection here, after all. But what happens when the fault is that you cared too much, and gave too willingly? When did it become a bad thing to embrace life and feel all the intensities it has to offer? At what point do our actions shift from being supportive and patient, to the designation that we’re being walked all over? And when should we toss aside the conventions we’ve been taught about the Golden Rule and actually put ourselves first, having the guts to say, “this is bullshit!”
I may not know the answer to those non-rhetorical questions. In fact, I know I don't. But I think it does have some merit. There must be a thin line between being kind and patient about a situation, and the situation really being one where you're getting walked all over. In fact, just today I was listening to a co-worker tell me why their unemployment will really be the end of their happiness (obviously, this person doesn't understand that they are 25, and thus still in the "idealist, shrug it off" stage of life). They eventually deduced that the worst possible scenario would be to live at home with their parents and work for their dad in a field that isn't related to their college degree.
Oh, hi, did you just describe my life?
When I pointed this out to this person, they informed me that it's different because they have a more expensive degree (hey, nobody held you at gunpoint and made you go to Drake) and because it is also a higher degree than my bachelor's, it is even more difficult to work some remedial.
Now, I will concede that everything that person said is factual. They do have more debt than I do because they did attend a private university. They did get a degree above a BA/BS, so they are, technically, "higher educated" than I. And I'll even give them that it may be more difficult to go back and work for a parent with that higher degree, simply because I don't have the ability to empathize with that because I am not in the same situation. But my question is, when does being a good person by listening and empathizing with someone diverge into allowing myself to be offended and say "hey, asshole, why can't we just cooperatively curse the economy and go get a beer instead of split hairs about who has it worse?"
I pride myself on knowing things and constantly learning, but I will never claim to know everything. But as live moves on, and as I enjoy the last 6.5 years of my twenties, I know I'll probably still be too nice, too forgiving, and too patient with people who are actually quite undeserving. But that's ok. What is idealism without the Golden Rule, anyway?
For starters, I have been living in Des Moines for almost a year now. I commonly tell people I am living the dream because it usually elicits a chuckle or an appreciative smile, but truthfully I am living the reality of most people my age. I live with my parents, I fight with my parents, I am restless, and I am faking my way through a few jobs so I can make money to pay off my debts. And by "pay off my debts," I really mean "go out with those other people my age I referenced and drink beer and pretend that we've all never been happier."
Ok, that was a little dramatic. I actually am quite happy. Life treats me well, and I think I treat life well. I think this particularly when a few of my married friends tell me they live vicariously through me. I have a secret hypothesis that they say this only to make me feel better about some of my terrible life choices. Either way, life isn't perfect, and it's certainly not static, but what 20-something truly believes or wants that? I mean, isn't that the beauty of your 20s? You are the most idealistic you'll ever be and this means you can really pursue all that life has to afford. When something doesn't work out, a 20-something moves on to the next thing. We're malleable, we're flexible, we're the best kind of non-committed.
Ok, stop there.
When I started typing this blog entry, I didn't intend for it to be monumental or all that great, really (and I obviously succeeded at doing neither). In fact, I just wanted to breeze over the fact that it's been a year since I contributed to the blogosphere and move on to my original purpose behind digging up my username and password. So, we'll just move on, shall we?
As I mentioned, I work a few jobs. This sounds more taxing than it really is, but we'll just leave it at that so whoever reads this will think I am truly deserving of all the things that I want because I work so hard. With that in mind, one of my jobs can be described as a rollercoaster. For once, this isn't because it's a dramatic thing, but rather because what I do depends on a multitude of factors. So, I will go through phases of being ridiculously busy and yet spend hours doing nothing but doodling, surfing the web, and plotting ways to save the world. During one of these "valleys" today, I started free-writing. It came out in a Carrie Bradshaw-esque way, probably because I watched a lot of "Sex and the City" over Thanksgiving Break. I decided to post it because otherwise it will be forever lost on the hard drive of my computer, and I will read it sometime in the future and have no context for what I was thinking. So, without futher adu (and there was a lot of freaking adu leading up to this point), here is my SATC column. Oh, and no, it's not about me. It truly is about a friend of mine, so just stop trying to be clever and figure out the supposed analogies. It's just a waste of your brain's synopses.
“This Is Bullshit!”
By: Carrie Bradshaw (a.k.a. Kelli Russell)
I have a friend who met a guy at work a few months ago. After a flirtatious banter and a carefully orchestrated “asking for the phone number,” they met up for drinks one night and hit it off. The days following were a whirlwind of cute texts, cuter kisses, and the flutter-of-the-heart feeling that leaves you breathless but with oxygen the last thing on your mind.
Sometimes these stories end well, and you have relationships form. Sometimes both parties are content with the affair becoming one to remember, and nothing more. And still yet, sometimes the stories end before they even have a chance to move beyond the title page. But through the countless situations I or someone I know have been through, despite the numerous times we’ve faced ourselves in the mirror after being knocked off our feet, and the harsh conversations we've drunkenly had alone or in dialogue, it just never seems to stick. It seems like the only thing that has truly ingrained itself into our minds is the idea that we should give selflessly and wait with open arms for the moment when someone needs us. I know we're not alone in this morally charged, flawed character trait. But what I have noticed is that more often than the not, the one who winds up standing alone is the woman, as intelligent, discerning, real-world as she may be.
My friend is one such woman. Admittedly there is always fault with each member of a relationship; we are not debating perfection here, after all. But what happens when the fault is that you cared too much, and gave too willingly? When did it become a bad thing to embrace life and feel all the intensities it has to offer? At what point do our actions shift from being supportive and patient, to the designation that we’re being walked all over? And when should we toss aside the conventions we’ve been taught about the Golden Rule and actually put ourselves first, having the guts to say, “this is bullshit!”
I may not know the answer to those non-rhetorical questions. In fact, I know I don't. But I think it does have some merit. There must be a thin line between being kind and patient about a situation, and the situation really being one where you're getting walked all over. In fact, just today I was listening to a co-worker tell me why their unemployment will really be the end of their happiness (obviously, this person doesn't understand that they are 25, and thus still in the "idealist, shrug it off" stage of life). They eventually deduced that the worst possible scenario would be to live at home with their parents and work for their dad in a field that isn't related to their college degree.
Oh, hi, did you just describe my life?
When I pointed this out to this person, they informed me that it's different because they have a more expensive degree (hey, nobody held you at gunpoint and made you go to Drake) and because it is also a higher degree than my bachelor's, it is even more difficult to work some remedial.
Now, I will concede that everything that person said is factual. They do have more debt than I do because they did attend a private university. They did get a degree above a BA/BS, so they are, technically, "higher educated" than I. And I'll even give them that it may be more difficult to go back and work for a parent with that higher degree, simply because I don't have the ability to empathize with that because I am not in the same situation. But my question is, when does being a good person by listening and empathizing with someone diverge into allowing myself to be offended and say "hey, asshole, why can't we just cooperatively curse the economy and go get a beer instead of split hairs about who has it worse?"
I pride myself on knowing things and constantly learning, but I will never claim to know everything. But as live moves on, and as I enjoy the last 6.5 years of my twenties, I know I'll probably still be too nice, too forgiving, and too patient with people who are actually quite undeserving. But that's ok. What is idealism without the Golden Rule, anyway?
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
My life in semesters.
I have my last final as a college undergraduate in 7 hours and 28 minutes. Shockingly, I can't sleep. I can never seem to sleep when I need to, and when I do take my infamous coma-naps (Kevin calls them my hibernations) they are never at good times.
Because said final is my last final, and it is an English final at that (the absolute worst kind of final because it's all BS and taking about things nobody actually cares about), I've started down the road of no return - the road of the lasts.
I started thinking about how many finals weeks I have survived (9), and how I can't remember most things from my exams, but I remember that week like it was yesterday. I vividly remember my first (and last) dead week at Iowa State, as well as sitting in the lounge with Jessica Giuttari eating my weight in junkfood just to use up my Cy-Cash. Those were the days when I was a Political Science and English major with a Spanish minor. That worked out well for me, obviously.
From there I started thinking about my first semester at Iowa and finally feeling like I was where I needed to be. I remember staying up all night with the girls on my floor studying for Intro to Sociology and thinking they would be the best friends I ever had. Again, that worked out well for me, obviously.
My sophomore year, I decided to break up with my boyfriend mid-finals week the semester I took 17 hours. To this day I stand by my belief that it was a miracle from God that I passed my finals that week. I guess in this case, that did work out well for me.
I guess you get the general idea that I have always measured my life around academic events. We all do it ("I met her sophomore year" or "My junior year we had that horrible ice storm, remember?"), but the fact that I barely remember what I wore yesterday, yet remember what I wore to my Intro to Law final sophomore year freaks me out a little. Partly because that's a bit strange, but also because what happens when I no longer have those academic bench marks to measure my life from? It seems a little strange to say, but college gave me structure. I've been here so long, doing this song and dance, that I'm afraid I don't know what to do without it.
Yes, I'm aware that countless individuals have done it before me. In fact, because I decided to take a victory lap, a large portion of my friends have already gone through all of this because they graduated last May. I'm a bit on the quirky side, though, so I suppose I'm wondering how my mind will wrap itself around this dramatic life change. I am moving back in with my parents, after all.
I have a major love/hate relationship with Iowa City. In some regards, the place absolutely disgusts me. You would think this was the elusive Garden of Eden by how some people talk about it, and I've long said you couldn't pay me to live here after graduation. My logic is that I couldn't stand being around college students without actually being one. Let's be honest - they're a bit lazy, narcissistic, and drunk. I also wouldn't want to work in the school district because the students are so used to academia and being around such rich culture they don't even realize what they have; they're completely jaded to the incredible opportunities around them.
Yet, I've also lived in Iowa City for four years, and the past two have been continuous. I've been here through tornados (freshman year), an earthquake (junior year), a flood (junior year), and most recently a fire. It would be impossible, and a complete lie, if I said I didn't feel invested in this community. I've spent the past 2.5 years explaining to campus visitors why I love Iowa City and the University of Iowa, and I truly wasn't lying. There is a lot to offer here, and I adore the campus and downtown Iowa City. I've also had a lot of fun here. College was certainly the best years of my life (thankfully, because high school was quite anticlimactic).
Although I have a general idea where life is taking me, and a solid idea exactly what I'll be doing until July, I have to stop and consider all of the semesters, finals weeks, nights out, nights in, natural disasters, overdramatized disasters, laughing, crying, fighting, running, sleeping, drinking coffee, perusing the library, eating Which Wich, and enjoying life that I've done in this town.
And believe me, that's certainly not a bad thing to consider. Just maybe now when I have a final in 7 hours and 5 minutes.
Because said final is my last final, and it is an English final at that (the absolute worst kind of final because it's all BS and taking about things nobody actually cares about), I've started down the road of no return - the road of the lasts.
I started thinking about how many finals weeks I have survived (9), and how I can't remember most things from my exams, but I remember that week like it was yesterday. I vividly remember my first (and last) dead week at Iowa State, as well as sitting in the lounge with Jessica Giuttari eating my weight in junkfood just to use up my Cy-Cash. Those were the days when I was a Political Science and English major with a Spanish minor. That worked out well for me, obviously.
From there I started thinking about my first semester at Iowa and finally feeling like I was where I needed to be. I remember staying up all night with the girls on my floor studying for Intro to Sociology and thinking they would be the best friends I ever had. Again, that worked out well for me, obviously.
My sophomore year, I decided to break up with my boyfriend mid-finals week the semester I took 17 hours. To this day I stand by my belief that it was a miracle from God that I passed my finals that week. I guess in this case, that did work out well for me.
I guess you get the general idea that I have always measured my life around academic events. We all do it ("I met her sophomore year" or "My junior year we had that horrible ice storm, remember?"), but the fact that I barely remember what I wore yesterday, yet remember what I wore to my Intro to Law final sophomore year freaks me out a little. Partly because that's a bit strange, but also because what happens when I no longer have those academic bench marks to measure my life from? It seems a little strange to say, but college gave me structure. I've been here so long, doing this song and dance, that I'm afraid I don't know what to do without it.
Yes, I'm aware that countless individuals have done it before me. In fact, because I decided to take a victory lap, a large portion of my friends have already gone through all of this because they graduated last May. I'm a bit on the quirky side, though, so I suppose I'm wondering how my mind will wrap itself around this dramatic life change. I am moving back in with my parents, after all.
I have a major love/hate relationship with Iowa City. In some regards, the place absolutely disgusts me. You would think this was the elusive Garden of Eden by how some people talk about it, and I've long said you couldn't pay me to live here after graduation. My logic is that I couldn't stand being around college students without actually being one. Let's be honest - they're a bit lazy, narcissistic, and drunk. I also wouldn't want to work in the school district because the students are so used to academia and being around such rich culture they don't even realize what they have; they're completely jaded to the incredible opportunities around them.
Yet, I've also lived in Iowa City for four years, and the past two have been continuous. I've been here through tornados (freshman year), an earthquake (junior year), a flood (junior year), and most recently a fire. It would be impossible, and a complete lie, if I said I didn't feel invested in this community. I've spent the past 2.5 years explaining to campus visitors why I love Iowa City and the University of Iowa, and I truly wasn't lying. There is a lot to offer here, and I adore the campus and downtown Iowa City. I've also had a lot of fun here. College was certainly the best years of my life (thankfully, because high school was quite anticlimactic).
Although I have a general idea where life is taking me, and a solid idea exactly what I'll be doing until July, I have to stop and consider all of the semesters, finals weeks, nights out, nights in, natural disasters, overdramatized disasters, laughing, crying, fighting, running, sleeping, drinking coffee, perusing the library, eating Which Wich, and enjoying life that I've done in this town.
And believe me, that's certainly not a bad thing to consider. Just maybe now when I have a final in 7 hours and 5 minutes.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Blerg.
Ladies and gentlemen, October is almost over.
Holy buckets, Batman!
Not to state the obvious, but October being over means November is here. November means Thanksgiving, which means finals week, which means graduation. College is over, what?
This week was by far the busiest I've had all semester. For that matter, my head feels groggy and I should go back to bed (I took a pseudo-coma earlier this evening), but I feel like I need to update my blog for my pretend readers just as much as I felt the need to labor over lesson plans this week for my pretend students. So, some nuggets of goodness for whoever you are:
- I absolutely, positively abhor Cambus, the University of Iowa's campus bus system. I can hardly talk about it on tours without frothing at the mouth.
- Someone called me a "yuppie" today because I worked at Starbucks once upon a time. I don't even have a good response to that because I'm still scratching my head in confusion.
- A letter arrived in the mail this week confirming that I am student teaching in southern Sussex County, England. I think that's the long way of saying London and London suburbs.
- By far, I ingested more coffee and Halloween candy this week than anything remotely nutritional.
- Ignorance is bliss, and I like to pretend that NPR is a completely unbiased news source. Even if it isn't, I still delight in it.
- I taught at Tate High School this week and it was great. I also whipped up a 4-day lesson plan on Act I of Romeo and Juliet and it was great. I'm going to be a teacher and that, too, is great.
- The Iowa Hawkeyes could very well become 9-0 this weekend. Oh, mylanta!
That's all I've got. Peace in the Middle East.
Holy buckets, Batman!
Not to state the obvious, but October being over means November is here. November means Thanksgiving, which means finals week, which means graduation. College is over, what?
This week was by far the busiest I've had all semester. For that matter, my head feels groggy and I should go back to bed (I took a pseudo-coma earlier this evening), but I feel like I need to update my blog for my pretend readers just as much as I felt the need to labor over lesson plans this week for my pretend students. So, some nuggets of goodness for whoever you are:
- I absolutely, positively abhor Cambus, the University of Iowa's campus bus system. I can hardly talk about it on tours without frothing at the mouth.
- Someone called me a "yuppie" today because I worked at Starbucks once upon a time. I don't even have a good response to that because I'm still scratching my head in confusion.
- A letter arrived in the mail this week confirming that I am student teaching in southern Sussex County, England. I think that's the long way of saying London and London suburbs.
- By far, I ingested more coffee and Halloween candy this week than anything remotely nutritional.
- Ignorance is bliss, and I like to pretend that NPR is a completely unbiased news source. Even if it isn't, I still delight in it.
- I taught at Tate High School this week and it was great. I also whipped up a 4-day lesson plan on Act I of Romeo and Juliet and it was great. I'm going to be a teacher and that, too, is great.
- The Iowa Hawkeyes could very well become 9-0 this weekend. Oh, mylanta!
That's all I've got. Peace in the Middle East.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Gimp.
Last Friday I ran a 5k. I decided to do this Thursday afternoon, under the pressure of Anne Kvinge and the lure of a free latte from the Java House.
Friday afternoon I found myself standing outside wearing once of those racing numbers, with a computer chip tagged to my shoe (as though I were actually in competition for first place), and my legs screaming "Why are you stretching us? What are you planning to do?!" Obviously, I did not die. I thought I might, though. Around mile two, my legs started loosening up for real, and I remembered why I liked running back in the day. Afterwards I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but it still felt pretty good and I do enjoy the freebies that come with races: t-shirts, bananas, and coupons for things you'll never use.
Sunday night rolled around, and I went to play in my intramural volleyball game. I played volleyball in high school, and as the game progressed I started caring more and more. It is a bit pathetic, sure, but I was yelling and running; I actually broke a sweat playing an intramural. WTF, mate? Near the end of the game, I decided it would be a great idea to dive for a loose ball (thanks, Nic) and proceeded to give myself a floor burn on my ankle and jam my big toe.
Please, do not dismiss this injury or call me dramatic. My big toe is now a colossal toe, is a wonderful shade of purple, and hurts to bend (which causes me to limp). All for an intramural game. Great work, champ.
I was downright active this weekend, which leads me to my lesson of the weekend: I need to be more active. I am 22 years old and I still get slightly winded on my tours when we climb to the top of the Pentacrest. Not cool.
So here's to being more active. Or at least attempting. I'll cheers to that (water, of course).
Friday afternoon I found myself standing outside wearing once of those racing numbers, with a computer chip tagged to my shoe (as though I were actually in competition for first place), and my legs screaming "Why are you stretching us? What are you planning to do?!" Obviously, I did not die. I thought I might, though. Around mile two, my legs started loosening up for real, and I remembered why I liked running back in the day. Afterwards I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but it still felt pretty good and I do enjoy the freebies that come with races: t-shirts, bananas, and coupons for things you'll never use.
Sunday night rolled around, and I went to play in my intramural volleyball game. I played volleyball in high school, and as the game progressed I started caring more and more. It is a bit pathetic, sure, but I was yelling and running; I actually broke a sweat playing an intramural. WTF, mate? Near the end of the game, I decided it would be a great idea to dive for a loose ball (thanks, Nic) and proceeded to give myself a floor burn on my ankle and jam my big toe.
Please, do not dismiss this injury or call me dramatic. My big toe is now a colossal toe, is a wonderful shade of purple, and hurts to bend (which causes me to limp). All for an intramural game. Great work, champ.
I was downright active this weekend, which leads me to my lesson of the weekend: I need to be more active. I am 22 years old and I still get slightly winded on my tours when we climb to the top of the Pentacrest. Not cool.
So here's to being more active. Or at least attempting. I'll cheers to that (water, of course).
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