The Bad Stuff is Easier to Believe

One of my favorite lines from Pretty Woman is "The bad stuff is easier to believe. Ever notice that?" I think it's true. I realize how captive we all are to the worst visions and fears of ourselves. It bothers me how much I am sometimes unable to enjoy the good because I am almost paranoid of the bad stuff or the bad idea in my head. And it's weird because I would generally consider myself an optimist. But the bad stuff really is easier to believe.

"We are not who you think we are. We are golden!"

My mom always says that nothing stays the same for three weeks. I think she's right. As I stand on the precipice of another set of new changes, it's scary. The world I thought existed outside the ivory gates has not been as easy as I thought or what I thought. In a way, I embrace the challenge. In another, I embrace myself. And in a third, I embrace whatever the future has in store.

So-called Modern Love

Everyone knows that I'm a hopeless romantic. I spend a good portion of my time watching so-called "chick flicks" or more respectable romantic movies. I love Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte and even Meg Cabot. I am in many ways, a sucker for romance.

I started reading "Modern Love," the collection of stories from The New Yorker, in the dead of winter after finding it on a friend's coffee table. Many of the stories have spoken to me, and I've tried to reconcile a world where love is not defined by my parent's experience. I'm beginning to accept that whatever romance is for me, I will not be them. It's too late. I've dated too many people to have that experience of falling in love with and marrying someone I met the first day freshman year of college... or at least, if I have that experience, there will have been people in between. And it does sadden me to know that my life is not going to look like theirs--especially when they are the model for what I want romance, a good relationship, and even the rest of my life to look like.

Instead maybe "modern love" is spending your whole life looking for that right person. There are mistakes along the way, and people take time apart. But at the end of the day, the picture clears and the right person eventually enters the frame. Even if it's years later, the people who are meant to be together end up together. And it's those other relationships, the heartbreaks, the years of not looking, or of looking too much, or of learning to live by yourself, or learning to live with someone else... it is all these experiences that best prepare us for the way we live now, the way we were meant to live, and the way we end up living.

Perfection (or lack thereof)

I am not perfect. Despite my degree and everything else, I don't understand why everyone looks at me the way they do. I sometimes wish they could see what lies under the surface. I hope they would still love me then.

Starting Something New... Sorta

I've watched myself (and a lot of my friends) take some amazing risks this past year. One, which I would like to assist (hence this blog post), comes from my roommate as she prepares to launch her new website and begin teaching wedding dance lessons. And so, without further ado: Chicago Wedding Dance.

I should add that there are a few moments in the past week where I have stopped and remarked on how amazing it is that I'm finally getting paid to do the work that I'm doing. I used to do this stuff for free for my friends because I loved it. Now, I've been able to turn it into a career. It's wonderful.

On my ACL

I continue to be amazed by how one moment can change your entire life, without you ever predicting it or being able to go back. I'm not even necessarily talking about words heard or uttered, but rather about injuries.

I think back to my life before I tore my ACL and there is a before and an after. Literally in the moments leading up to my fall, my future included an amazing summer internship at NBC, a starting spot on the JV lacrosse team, and a ballroom competition with a wonderful partner. In one second and one "pop," all of those things vanished.

I often wish I could go back to being the person I was before. I miss the athlete in me, and I wonder if many other challenges, like my heart problems and the difficulty I had memorizing lines, came from that moment. Would I still be talking to the friends I lost during surgery and my recovery? Even now, I am still struggling with injuries that came from that one second in the billions of seconds that will make up my life. And I am still ashamed and embarrassed that I am and will be forced to chronically struggle with something so simple and from such a small time point in time.

In the days after the accident, I kept wishing I could go back and do it over and change that second. I kept wanting to take it back. It's four years later, and I still have the same thought.

Thinking about Grandma's House

I wrote a post about my grandmother (and grandfather)'s house for work today. It's interesting because I don't usually get emotionally affected by what I'm writing, but I totally teared up writing it, and had to pace myself so as not to get upset. It's amazing how many memories in our lives are tied to places. I'm including a link to the post here (more about the blog it's on later). I hope you all get a chance to read and enjoy.

Grandmas House and Reverse Mortgages