It's been a while since I've laid in bed, laptop resting ontop of me, mind churning to put words down on a page. I really see our writing as the most vulnerable versions of ourselves. My words are a direct route to what's going on inside my head, and it's intimidating. It's intimidating for whomever could read these words, and it's intimidating for me to put something down that's worth being read by myself and other people. I have so much repsect for those who are able to write and write and share and share and not be bothered by it all. Or hung up on it. People who just create for the sake of creating. I think that writing used to be like that for me, up until I thought about who may or may not be listening. Then again, it's not really the fear of other people that makes me stop. It's the fear of my future self reading through words that make her cringe, asking herself how she once thought that. Of it not being any good. A fear of mediocrity.

Maybe it's a blessing that I'm able to look back at writing from a few years ago and be able to understand its shortcomings. Understand where ideas weren't yet fully developed. Understand that I am a human being who is allowed this act of expression. It's how we grow.

Nonetheless, I'm back at a point in my life where I feel like I need writing. And, hell, maybe writing needs me, too.

When you take a step back and see the world for what it is instead of what you’ve been desperately trying to make it, everything becomes much clearer. I’ve talked about it before–our lives being comprised of moments. Each of those moments come about because of our choices, and before those moments are allowed to be born, decisions are made. Our lives are our choices. Every single day, we influence the way we live at this moment in time and the far out future as well.

Stop looking at all of these choices as burdens and start seeing them as beautiful opportunities. I feel like a lot of the time we desire to blame something or someone else for our misfortunes, the terrible things that happen in our lives, maybe even the simply mundane things that we don’t want to do. However, everything that we have is a direct reflection of how we see the world and the decisions that we’ve made whilst living in it.

It’s easy to say that society forces me to go to school, stripping away job opportunities from me if I don’t. There are a lot of people out there who never got college degrees, however, and they are doing just fine on their own, making their way through life by consulting their own desires. I choose to go to school. I choose to learn and better myself every day. It would be foolish of me to stand up, hatefully announcing that school is useless and I want nothing more to do with it (albeit, there have been those nights where stress and anxiety took control of my voice). No, this is my choice. If your choice doesn’t match mine, I will still respect it because that’s what is so magical about this all. I could make a new decision and radically change my life tomorrow, if I really wanted to. But I don’t, and that is my choice. I can do whatever I please.

Right or wrong, my life is mine because my choices have manipulated, in some form or another, everything that has happened in it. I decide how I react to intense situations that are out of my control. I decide how much I exercise, how long I study for, and how healthy I eat. It’s my choice whether I stay in school and listen to my parents’ advice. I decide how I look at myself and how I treat other people.

This world is not against us. The majority of the time, we’re simply against ourselves and we’re too scared of admitting that. So we use other people, things, activities as scapegoats, throwing the blame onto them, making us feel better about ourselves for the time being. Making us feel like it’s not our faults that we’re not reaching our full potential. It’s a lie. We sit here thinking that life is going to wait for us. That the world will slow down and give us eternity to finally realize that the decisions we make today mean everything. I think a lot of us wait too long to try and make something of ourselves, believing opportunities are going to be served on a silver platter. I don’t want to look back in regret when I’m older.

The world doesn’t slow down. Time doesn’t stop. One day you’re going to be looking back on the person you are right now, incredibly upset that you wasted this time. You’re going to be pissed that you spent so much of your life hating yourself, not being appreciative, waiting for something to happen when really you had the power to change it yourself and never acted. When all you had to do was just make better choices for yourself. Nothing is going to happen magically. You have to do it all on your own, so don’t wait until the last minute to do so. Realize that you have the choice at this exact moment to better yourself or remain how you are for the rest of your life, always wondering what could have been.

Challenges are opportunity. Welcome them. Choose to live the life you’ve only ever dreamed about, and do it now.

#choosewisely #choices

The sand was uncomfortably hot, scorching under the Traverse City sun as I walked across the beach, flip-flops in hand. I found a spot to lay my sweatshirt down, pulling a book out from my bag and surveying the enormous amount of people soaking in the rays on that beautiful summer day by the water. It wasn’t long after I had taken residence at my own little area of sand that two men, both roughly twenty-five in age, went walking by in front of me, commenting on how I was a “country” girl because of the green John Deere hat that I was wearing. When I looked up and acknowledged their existence, they viewed it fit to take a seat next to me and start talking my ear off.

Before an exchange of names or hometowns, one of them wanted to know whether I had any passions that I would die for, as the other picked up the guitar that they were carrying with them and started strumming.

I was oddly thrown both in and out of my element. I loved the idea of discussing deep life topics, but the fact that they were strangers who were obviously intoxicated brought about an itch of worry. Thoroughly considering what could go wrong, I began answering their questions anyway.

My deepest passions. The wildest thing I’ve ever done. Where I wanted to go and see. They got more out of me in a few minutes than most people do in days of conversation. I enjoyed that, encouraging the big stuff instead of the small talk that consumes and bores us all. It’s a really great quality to have, actually. Making other people feel like they can open up to you.

They talked about Australia, San Francisco, Grand Rapids, Los Angeles, and hiking seven mountains in Colorado. They talked about skydiving, hospital trips, actors who lose themselves after playing a part too long, and video games that allow you to digitally run amuck in your own town. One of them spent twenty minutes telling me a single story about how he was playing the guitar for a girl in California and her ex-boyfriend bashed him in the head, creating a gash that required stitches (which he eventually got after a lot of persuading). How society has placed rules and expectations upon us all, rules that they feel they have to respect in order to be accepted in public. How they appreciate human interaction, even the briefest moments of it.

When I told them what I was doing with my life, they understood that I was trying to set myself up for future success, but they also reminded me to live in the moment and have fun because, to them, it took me way too long to come up with the last time that I had crazy amounts of adventure. I wanted to know if they were truly happy, but I didn’t get a straight answer. They chuckled immediately and went on to say that they were doing what they wanted to do. I don’t know if that automatically equates to happiness. The amount of booze they guzzled down and the vulgar, violent stories, mostly revolving around drugs that they found, told me otherwise. But they were still young, quitting their factory jobs to go out and travel the country. They certainly were doing whatever it was they wanted.

By the end of our time together, I was comfortable enough to reveal my passion for writing. They were excited by it, one of them telling me that he was a writer himself. Poetry. He said that he wrote a couple of poetry books that could be found online, and he gave me the names of both of them. I stored the names in my mind to do a little research later that night. He told me that he wished he could look over this blog to see if I’m really worthy of being read. I honesty wish that he could have. His opinions and suggestions would have been taken into account and trusted. It’s funny how sometimes it takes years to trust people, while other times, only a matter of minutes.

It’s quite ironic that they came across me because in recent weeks, I’ve caught myself becoming envious of those kinds of people. The ones with the guts and courage to flip society the middle finger and leave it all behind. No more responsibilities regarding anyone other than themselves. Living life with a love for travel, people, and nature. Diving inwardly on a daily basis. No fear.

Those two changed my mind, however—something I didn’t think was quite possible because becoming a nomad seemed like my dream life, an end goal. But they made me realize how quickly you can lose everything you’ve worked for, and how difficult it would be to get even an ounce of it back. The thought sent a shock of terror through me. The world doesn’t owe us anything. It doesn’t keep us in safe bubbles until we figure out what we want from life. I realized that I didn’t want to be like them, not simply because of the constant inebriation, but because there was a lack of love present. A desire for human connection that wasn’t being fulfilled. A loneliness hidden with the “fuck expectations” attitude. I also realized that they’re just like me though, on a voyage of self-discovery. Only theirs was more intense and involved sleeping on the streets.

I cannot deny that they most certainly had a point. Life needs to be lived with purpose. You need to live for something or your existence becomes absolutely meaningless, wasted space. So many people are content with living small lives. Too many. They didn’t want me to become one of those people. They told me to wait to get into a relationship until I found someone incredibly special because I deserved it. Because I’m a cool, beautiful, humble, open-minded girl who has a lot to live for.

I want to be adventurous, I do. I really fucking do. But I also think safety, security, and comfort are important for mental sanity, too. Somewhere to be at ease. Yes, I want to go on the most incredible explorations of life. But I also want to fall hopelessly in love, having something to come home to when my spirit has been well-nourished. Looking back on it now, I wish that I had asked them if they ever feel that safety now. Or if they ever have. If they’ve ever been in love or lost it.

I googled his books when I got home, praying that I would find at least one of them, a part of me hoping that these guys were honest people worth remembering and learning from.

Everything he said about it was absolutely true. He wrote poetry. The largest smile plastered itself onto my face when I saw those words. The largest smile.

The things that get said don’t bother me all that much. The release is worth it. The words find a home out there in the open or gracefully land into the hearts of whoever overheard them. They’re good at that, settling down somewhere. They know how to rest easily after it took all their might to plunge into the world, into the unknown. Their enchantments are enticing. A few of them placed elegantly together in just the right way can create unimaginable things. Unimaginable compassion, love, or friendship. Inspiration. Trust and honesty. Contentment.

When they feel unappreciated, they spit out sorrow, misery, and pain. Daggers that aim straight for the heart, puncturing even the strongest barriers protecting it. They don’t want to be used to injure so deeply, maliciously. Not purposely. Not when they are our vehicle for understanding each other. Not when all they want is a safe home to stir together their magic. Not when they are ever so beautiful. Something so beautiful shouldn’t be used for destruction.

The things left unsaid are the ones who haunt me. The words that yearned so eagerly to fly but grew fearful when it was time to leap. The ones who will never have a home in someone else, remaining trapped in our own beings, locked away in a darkness so removed of restorative color that all of their senses become skewed. Sometimes for just a little while until they gain much needed courage. Sometimes forever, eventually buried in the dirt with their keeper. The longer our words stay within us, the more restless they become, like a small child badgering her mother for a glimpse of freedom. As their teenage years emerge, the relationship becomes one of parasitism, rebelling and tormenting us for never gifting them their time in the light. Sometimes they become wise and stop the torture, having found something better to entertain themselves with. Sometimes they never outgrow their rebellious youth, keeping us awake at all hours of the night until we no longer have any more nights to share with them.

It’s never too late to set them free. Open the cage door and welcome them. Offer them a finger to rest upon while their wings stretch out, ready for flight. Then, with all your might and love, let them fly.

#fly #words #speaknow #live #love #beauty #darkness

Looking out a window from thousands of feet above, ants speed by on highways, unaware of the watchful eye that is tracking their every move. From any other angle closer to ground level, the site wouldn’t be anywhere notable, merely the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Yet from above, we are unable to break our gaze, mesmerized by the sheer amount of them. Hundreds of colorful ants, moving in unity. Thousands of passengers. Thousands of destinations. Thousands of stories that will forever be unknown to whoever is observing. It’s so mind-blowingly beautiful just how many different lives inhabit this earth, not one of them the same. And how few of them actually mean something in our own worlds. So many different, meaningful souls, surrounded by an aura of mystery that results from having a stranger’s perspective.

That mystery, the unknown, clouds what is really there. Any man, woman, or child walking down the street experiences this ambiguity, only seeing whatever image is portrayed exteriorly by unfamiliar faces, oblivious to the darkness and insecurity that dwells within them. If only society could see past this façade of flawlessness, maybe we wouldn’t feel so alone all of the time—the single blemish on what is otherwise considered a “perfect” society of “perfect” people. Perfection isn’t real. And it pains me to admit how uninspired I’ve become, living in a place that values material items, societal rules and expectations, over actual human connection and exploration.

Monotony is a bitch. And it’s slowly draining me.

It’s as if something is missing—something that I don’t know if I’ll even be able to find. That irksome feeling telling me I could be doing so much more. I’ve been going through life in a daze, not thoroughly thinking through the routine. Time is the most precious thing we have and yet I feel as if I’m wasting it, stuck somewhere safe but somewhere that I’ve outgrown. It’s easy for people to tell me to wait until college is over, go from there. A couple of years doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but no one actually knows for certain just how many years they will be granted in this life. We’re always waiting for our lives to begin, with an idea of who we want to be someday. I want to spend my life actually living, not waiting on “someday” or wishing years away. I can’t wish these years away. Because I know I’ll regret it, if I do. The journey needs to mean something, and I need it to start now. I just haven’t figured out how to get an iron foot off the brake pedal yet.

I’m homesick for a place that I’m not even sure exists. Peeping through an airplane window, looking at the thousands of people below me, I know that I am not the only one out there who has ever felt this way. But I also wonder how many of those people actually did something about it.

I despise how powerful monotony can become, nestling itself in our daily lives, no one having any apparent issue with it. We wake up at the same times, eat the same things, perform the same jobs, shop at the same stores, and live the same lives every single day. And people choose this for themselves, finding comfort in stability, frightened by the unknown—a fear instilled in us by society to keep us on track. I’m tired of people romanticizing that way of life and shaming those of us who want more from it. Yes, the unknown is the scariest part of our existence, but we do have a choice: fear it or embrace it. It’s a choice whether we practice our usual habits or expand our minds to new possibilities. Even if we tried something new every single day of our lives, we still wouldn’t be able to experience all that the world has to offer. Imagine cutting years, decades, from that time stuck in the same, predictable mindset, afraid of what’s out there. People who are accustomed to this practice must not even realize how much life they are missing. They would never allow it, if they did.

Because life is about doing the things that absolutely terrify you, taking a deep breath before the plunge.

Mundanity is a sneaky thing. You don’t notice that it has taken hold of you until something interrupts your deep slumber and you wake up one day in a panic—forty, married with kids, a job you hate, roots burrowed in the ground so deep you can’t even budge, let alone leave—and in a twisted, maniacal way, it dawns on you that you fucked up. You succeeded in doing what society expected from you, but you left your dreams in the dust, speeding along to conform. You blame life for moving by so fast, keeping you trapped on a path that seemed righteous and safe, never challenging you. Never warning you that you needed to get out and experience the world before rushing to please everyone else around you. Resentment weighs on your mind as the “what ifs” begin to stack up. But life doesn’t owe you anything. There is only one person to blame and it’s the one looking back at you in the mirror.

No matter what society has etched into our brains, I truly do believe that it’s never too late to start a new beginning. It gets harder as we get older though, our naivety and fearlessness wearing thin.

Although for some, I’m sure the little house and family package is enough adventure in itself. There is still beauty in stability and commitment—in no way am I saying there’s not. I admire those who so gracefully exhibit that structure without wavering. But I’m not one of those people. I want to travel and live and test out my dreams before settling down like that.

I am terrified of mediocrity, terrified of being stuck somewhere, always wondering why the hell I never got out. I don’t want to look back at a life of missed opportunity and regret. It’s one of the few conclusions that I know to be absolutely true. I am terrified of never being able to break the tedious, mundane mold that society has so uniformly crafted for me—for all of us.

You see, we overcomplicate life on a daily basis. In a dog-eat-dog world, we forget to appreciate the small moments, for they are too small to be granted our undivided attention. We seem to forget that happiness is a feeling, not some permanent destination that can house us and keep us safe at all times. Happiness is something we have to recognize for ourselves because those moments of pure bliss are fast and they’re fleeting. They’re missed oh so often because people forget to let them in, thinking they’ll make their way back around eventually. They don’t. Those moments disappear, not even given the chance to break up the monotony.

Instead, we put off being happy until some later time and we constantly rush through life, trying to get to the next stage—the seemingly better stage. In that rush, we are blinded, believing the things we love will follow and never leave us. And in those times of ignorance, we miss every single one of those euphoric moments crafted throughout our journey. We let them slip by without even a second thought. We allow time to tick by so quickly that we don’t leave ourselves even a second to obstruct our worries for once, to stop and take everything in before it’s too late. Before we get to what we deemed the final destination and realize that we aren’t as happy as we once thought we would be, the hasty journey getting to that point leaving a bitter aftertaste in our mouths.

Then again, what even constitutes happiness. Write out the word a dozen times and it will begin to seem alien to you. It’s a term thrown around without a road map on how to get there. There are countless definitions as to what happiness actually encompasses. The real adventure is finding yours.

I’ve developed a craving for adventure that I haven’t been able to satisfy. A craving I never even knew I had such a taste for. I can’t pinpoint what exactly woke me from my mindless wander and gave me a yearning to experience this world, but a single band intensified it.

I stood facing the drums, the microphone, the stage that would host a plethora of talented musicians about to play their hearts out, a mere five feet away from me. I could feel the vibration from the speakers, every strum of Alex Espiritu’s bass guitar rippling through me. I could see the drops of sweat forming on their faces. And it was in that moment that I told myself to remember every little detail. Every movement of Josh Katz’s fingers on guitar, and every grin he gave the audience as we sang along with him. Every strand out of place on Joey Morrow’s head after each flip of the hair. For that minute, I was completely, blissfully happy. I let the music carry me away to a place that didn’t count the dollar bills in my bank account or how many years of intense schooling I still had left. One that let all of my worries evaporate away with each hit Anthony Sonetti made on his drum set.

All too soon, it was over. Hurled back into reality, like a ragdoll on the street, tossed out of a moving vehicle by its once adoring owner. It makes one think about life—how perfect it would be if moments like that could happen every night. Then again, it’s those moments that are few and far between that make the greatest impression on us. It’s those few minutes of unfamiliarity and magic that grab us and make us feel most fiercely, holding on to them for dear life. They’re the ones we must chase after or risk losing altogether.

And to me, that gives meaning to this funny thing called life. Those moments where you feel nothing and everything all at once. It’s freedom—a certain kind of peace with the world.

This is a band that seeps passion and love for their craft with every show, every song, and every note. The way raw, human emotion is felt deep within their lyrics and the extreme courage in letting thousands of strangers listen in on it. A band that lives in a van and travels the country, taking on crowds and stadiums and clubs, entertaining all aspects of life. The way they don’t know off the top of their heads the exact location they’ll be in a few weeks’ time. It’s magnificent—the unknown. The constant rush.

They’ve been to cities and countries that I have only been able to dream about, and I envy the heck out of them. Not because they have adoring fans screaming their names (throwing bras and marriage proposals at them) but because they’ve created opportunity for themselves at such a young age. It’s admirable. They are seeing the world firsthand and making a career out of it in the process, one that is going to take them so far. I’m jealous of all the culture and people that they are exposed to, and I hope like hell they are getting out to experience it, not taking it for granted.

There are so many bands out there that get to live like that, but not every band represents itself as well as this one does. Very few do, actually. Not every band is so strikingly down-to-earth. The fame hasn’t gotten to their heads. Rock bands have this bad stigma attached to them: they aren’t supposed to care about anything or anyone. I know how everyone thinks it’s cool not to care, but I don’t believe that to be true at all. I don’t think this band does either, and it’s incredibly refreshing. They’re unapologetically themselves, and they stand for what they believe in. They’re real. They aren’t trying to sell bullshit music just to grab some attention. Everything is laid out on the line in the most honest way possible, something so commendable. Their perseverance is too. They are making the absolute most out of their lives right now, and they’ve risen so far above the monotony that tries to consume us all.

Fuck, they’re bringing integrity and originality back to ALL kinds of music.

The saddest day will be when it costs an arm and a leg just to watch them perform live, small-talk after shows becoming nonexistent, but that will also be the day they’ve made it big. And on that day, I will still have a huge smile on my face for them because they deserve it and so much more.

I am merely a stranger looking in, but it doesn’t always feel that way. I know just about every line from their songs, my car’s speaker familiar with their sound. I’ve laughed at their jokes, been taken aback by their kindness, and I have been brought to tears by their music. I still remember every detail of the day that I first heard their EP. That’s how you know it’s a good one. They’ve created something so remarkable. At a time when inspiration was hard to come by, they were successful in inspiring me.

So, here’s some advice from the girl trying to practice what she preaches, slowly reducing the pressure on that brake pedal. Stop your mind from wandering to a million different places and take a minute to entice it back together. Breathe. Soak in every single thing hitting your body in a few perfect seconds—be it wind, rain, sunshine, laughter, sound from an amazing band—and know that you are alive. We never know the good times are indeed the good times until they’re over. If we constantly fly through the stages of life, we never get to experience those moments; we never get to be happy.

I am searching for a purpose, something that will set me free. I don’t want to be left wondering what could have been. I don’t want to just be an ant, crushed by the weight that comes when one only pines for societal acceptance—and accepts mundanity in return. I’ve seen and spoken to the people living their lives to the fullest, and I can only hope to emulate that someday.

#monotony #inspiration #life #purpose #freedom #music #rock