Recount

Midnight // NYE 2012/2013 // The Avett Brothers

Ah, it's that time of year again when all us bloggers recount whether or not we stuck to our guns and actually completed our resolutions. As you know, this is a blog about getting things done........ so here's hoping I haven't royally screwed up and completed, say, ZERO of my resolutions.

At the beginning of 2013, I resolved to do only slightly more than a handful of things. Here's the entry, but if you're not one to muck about in archives, here's a quick recap of the list:

1. Be a better adult.

2. Stay a better friend.

3. Have more patience and understanding.

4. Overcome MORE fears.

5. Be even more efficient.

6. Accomplish all my little goals in between without resolving to do them.

7. Just be.

Wow. Lofty goals, January 1st Rachel. Talk about setting high expectations for myself. Never one afraid to fail, I normally push further than I should. Let's see how I fared, shall we?

1. Be a better adult.

I am by no means a model adult. I may not even be a mediocre adult, but I have damn sure come a long way this year. I've learned so much about reliability, and even more, how to BE reliable. I've learned to keep running, even when I'm knee-deep in heavy Carolina clay, knowing I have to reach the other side. I've taken jobs I didn't want, left jobs I wanted to continue, and doubled-down on school and work, putting my social life lower on the list than in years past. While I've mentioned I'll always be a "family/friends first" kinda gal, I finally figured out how to maintain that moral of mine while accomplishing great things and being responsible. I even have some money! .......... for now.

2. Stay a better friend.

I am a yo-yo better friend. There are periods of time in which I have a LOT of free time to spare; others where I barely have enough time to eat and sleep, let alone make some phone calls. I could do a better job, but I think I haven't slipped TOO far back into yesteryear when I was always not such a great friend. Better to maintain than fall behind, even if I wish I could've hit this one out of the park. There's always next year when I get out of my Master's program!

3. Have more patience and understanding.

Oh, lord help all of you. Whereas I have gained so much of this in the career arena in my life, I admittedly have lost a lot of it in the personal domain. I'm sorry if I've been snippy or bitchy, perhaps spacey or annoyed, but I have poured all of my patience and understanding into over 100 kids. They need it most right now, and I am going to work very hard to squeeze some of that patience over to my loved ones in the coming year. Now that I know HOW to be patient, I have to learn how to BALANCE that patience. I have to understand others in the ways I always hope they understand me! But hey, I hope my students can at least attest to the fact that I almost never lose my temper. And when I do, they know weird things like town hall meetings will occur.

4. Overcome MORE fears.

Thanks to my newest project, 26 Gonnas for 26, I have definitely been visiting this resolution time and time again in 2013. I've sung publicly at karaoke bars; I've gotten back into modeling and ENJOYED IT; I've publicly and privately let go of toxic relationships. There have been a lot of fears I've conquered that aren't even on the 26 for 26, which brings me to...

6. Accomplish all my little goals in between without resolving to do them.

Yeah, I know. I skipped 5, but we'll get to that'n. Six and four pair well together like a good cheese and a fine wine, ya heard? There were so many moments this year that I found left me feeling so bold, so brave, and so utterly proud of myself. Overcoming fears, some of which I didn't even know I had, was a lot easier in 2013 than in the past. Maybe it's because I was so successful at resolution number one, but pushing forward into the unknown was just not as horrifying in '13. I'm not saying it wasn't sweat inducing to call my favorite co-workers ever to tell them I was offered a new job, and I'm not saying it wasn't horrifying to meet, learn, and teach over 100 strangers in the middle of the school year... but I am saying that it was exponentially less disastrous than it would have been a year ago. And you know what? I found out I'm a lot BETTER at most of the things I'm scared of than some of the things I feel "safe" doing. What's more is I didn't feel the urge to tell anyone about these things (well, until now). I didn't feel like I had to make a list, at least not publicly. I didn't feel like I needed to have support to overcome my fear, something that is altogether new for me. While there are still some giant hurdles like flying and singing in public without a cheesy backup machine that WILL require a little hand-holding, learning to go solo into fear this year is what got me over the need to publicly resolve to accomplish every tiny morsel my brain cooked up.

5. Be even more efficient.

Welcome back, five! You tie into resolution one pretty well, sir. While I believe there's always room for improvement when talking efficiency, I truly figured out and utilized it this year. If you remember, I started to see some vague progress in this field when I resolved to be efficient in 2012. This year, though, I really FOUND efficiency like it was the god damn Lost island I'd been screaming about returning to. (Lost reference anyone? Anyone?) I am much more organized than I was a year ago. I even have plans for further organization, some I utilized earlier this very week. I used to shy away from changing my methods for better ones for fear they'd be worse; now I trust my instinct and know the HUGE list I have for improvements will all work out, and they will all be better, 100 fold.

7. Just be.
Herein lies the crux: how can I just be if I always see so many things I must resolve to make better? Is it possible? Or must the two forever be at odds? I like to think I've just been a little more than I was in 2012. That's not to say it has been a meditative, peaceful-as-fuck kind of year. Actually, it was pretty hectic... but there are some things this year I have let go of that I wouldn't have DREAMED of getting past 365 days ago. It's hard, being forever anxious (medically), finding out how to just be. And even though I didn't complete this goal, I'm happy to say that over the past three weeks, things have been falling out of the sky and into my lap in regards to what I need to finally, truly just be. I've been finding answers to questions I've had for a long time, and I've been finding inspiration, reinforcement, and even new standards for myself I will not budge on... ever. And that, ladies and gents, is what I believe the first step to just being is: being yourself.

I'll be back after the first of the year, hopefully with amazing tales of New Year's festivities, a list of resolutions, and... drumroll... big news about the blog and its future.

Have a magical transition from 2013 to 2014! I'll see you on the other side ;)

Number 13

13. Finish writing a book with C.

At the end of May, C and I sat down over glasses of (one of) our favorite wine(s), and she asked me one of my favorite questions any one person can ever ask:

Will you write with me?

Specifically, she asked me to help her write a particular story she was burning to tell. It was a true story, but she planned to change names and embellish, making it what we dubbed faction (fact + fiction). So with the doors open, candles burning, and our planners wide open, we made a way to find enough hours over enough days to finish a book by the end of 2013.

The deadline, while unrealistic to some, was good for us. We both needed the pressure of a due date, but we didn't need to feel so pressured that we caved and gave up. Giving the book as a gift for Christmas was a perfect reason to finish, as well as a solid goal to work toward.

The process began pretty regularly: Wednesdays after work, there we were, writing and editing. We quickly realized that since it was her story, she should spend the week writing, and our time together would be spent editing and adding whatever I thought would be helpful or funny. We pedaled along pretty quickly with a title and 15 single-spaced pages before life interrupted.

Between our vacations and family get-togethers together (she's J's sister), we had events to tend to separately as well. She was embarking on a new journey of competitive running, while I was balancing my work and school. It started to look like someone was conspiring against us and our words, but somehow we still always found a way to meet. In some instances, we had to move the time; others the day. There were even some missed weeks here and there, but somehow we found ourselves in the dead of fall, 30 single-spaced pages in.

At the beginning of November, I was in full-blown new-job mode. On top of that, I had to balance a full load of grad classes. Inconveniently, Thanksgiving found its way into our schedule as well. We saw each other only twice that month, a striking difference from the normal 4-8 times a month we had seen each other since living in the same town. I felt horrible, not only for abandoning C, but for abandoning our book. It was our baby.

December rolled around, and shortly thereafter, I got an email from C.

"IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I knew she had been writing, but the last time I'd seen her, our little novella lay in the 30-something range. The piece she had just sent me was 20+ pages longer..... and all that was standing between releasing the book to our friends and family was my editing every single word with the same diligence I'd had in prior months. The only problem was I also had hundreds of papers to grade AND two giant projects due in less than a week. Shit.

In a zombified stupor, I got through all of my work duties and all of my projects. I started editing until my eyes bled, but it still took me three days to finish revising the final pages the way they deserved. I rushed over to C's house four days before her departure to the Great North where she'd be delving out the first round of the books on flash drives to the family. It was close, but somehow, we did it. And after all was said and done, we ended up with an 83-page novella.

Writing this little book taught me a lot about a lot. I had to learn to be ever-so-reliable because the success of C's story depended on my editorial skills. I had to learn to be patient because quality work takes time, despite my need for instant results. I had to learn to let go of the reigns because this wasn't my story, this was C's story. I had to learn how to work as a true professional team for the first time in my life because no one else has ever treated me as a professional equal before.

Our book might not be Gatsby or War and Peace, but it IS a labor of love (and a little Sedaris-y if I do say so myself). It is one of those gonnas we all talk about doing, and damn if we didn't actually do it.

I am glad I got to help my friend tell her story, but most of all, I am glad to know that with a solid friendship, anything is possible.

If you're interested in reading our little tale, I have a PDF version ready and raring to go! Email, as always, is imgonnadothatgirl@gmail.com.

Positiveville

Taking a cue from the lovely Kacey, I'd like to take a break from my regularly scheduled blogs filled with (oft-negative) venting and life-coaching (from myself?) just to write a nice, thankful, happy entry. I suppose it would have made more sense to ensure this coincided with Thanksgiving, but to hell with it all! Everyone tried to skip right over one of the most scrumptious holidays this year anyway...

AH, negativity abounds already! Stopping, turning around, and heading back toward Positiveville.

Yay! Happiness is fun!

I really enjoy having positive arenas on the Internet to run to as a safe haven on bad days. I don't particularly know or care if that sounds strange because I have met some of the best people via (mostly) positive places like Tumblr and Blogger. It's nice to have a community full of people who love the same things you love, write about the same things you do, and support and love you without even meeting you. They see the raw nerves you bumble out onto some digital paper and still want to get to know you. How cool is that? I wish more people would embrace the positive community that DOES exist on these endless pages of web.

Speaking of, one of my old co-workers is doing it up successfully and creatively in the Big Apple. She writes a blog all about love, her addiction to it, her journey to overcome that addiction, and her relationship with the city. She recently featured me, along with many others, on her blog (another example of the Supportive Internets), allowing us to vent to a person from our past or present romantic life. Here's that entry; I'm the fifth one in the list!

Building off of that entry (so you should probs read it), I just can't further explain how thankful I am for my partner. I've written about that gratitude often, though not too often, as I like to keep most of our life private. But without him having my back, even on my shittiest of days, I don't know how I'd get through such a trying time in my life. Without him coaching me from the sidelines, yelling "Get back up, sports fan! You're not done yet," I would be weaker, less brave, and apt to quit. Even when I don't want to tell him he's right because of my bulldog-level stubbornness, I know he's the one person who has the same intensity to help me succeed in my self-proclaimed need for evolution. At the end of the day, he's the man I dream up ridiculous Vines with. That's that shit I DO like.

While some aspects of my job are... less than stellar... I so enjoy my students. They are hilarious, smart, and much more intriguing than half of the adults I've met over the course of my life. Even if we have a bad day, they are so astute; unlike most of us "grown-ups," they are ready and willing to apologize, move on, and still have a professional relationship. I hope they all keep that openness in their hearts as they go out into the world because it will get them so far in life. I can't wait to watch them grow up; I hope I can be a mentor to them for as long as they need me!

It's really pleasing to finally see a career path (or rather, paths) I can maintain and find happiness in. For a long time, I thought a lot of me is what needed to change. It's only recently I realized that while I do have to work on aspects of myself like my impatience and hot-headedness, a lot of what I saw as a schism in myself was just the void from never knowing what I really want to do for a living. For a long time, I had shut out my dreams and desires because everyone, from complete strangers to my friends and family, had dictated what "success" looked like. But now that I've stopped focusing on them and prioritized myself, now that I've gone through the career-wringer, finding out what fits me and what doesn't, what my strengths are and what I could use some help with... I see myself a little more clearly. Weird how we define ourselves through external things, only to realize that if we pay a little internal attention, we can find a wealth of clarification.

There's a lot more I'm happy about, like being able to spend copious time with my family over winter break, being able to afford heat in such a cold winter, and my new gym opening at the time of the year where I can use it the most. I could sit here all day and wax poetic about the positives in my life, but I have to return to the stressful, strenuous life of an always-tired, always-working, full-time student AND teacher........

LAWD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL! And please, try to remind me not to be such a Negative Nitwit Nancy.

Number 21

Open Letter to the Toxic Ones

Dear You,

I don't know how to begin this. By writing instead of telling, am I engaging in the coldness of passive-aggressiveness I hate so much? Perhaps. I really just can't contain what's been on my mind so much over the last 2... 3.... er, 5?... wait, maybe longer........... years.

This has been a long time coming. Maybe I'm too sensitive for my own good, but after a long, somewhat-objective look at the state of things, I think I might be a little justified and that's enough; I don't need the totality of 100 percentness.

I am a giver. I always have been. Of course I take, but I really do find a joy in giving. I have told many of you over the years I wish I'd fall into a lot of money somehow so I could spoil you rotten. I have given even when my body has fought me. I have given when you have betrayed me. I have given when you have given nothing back. And until now, that's all been mostly okay because we were young. But here we are, on the door of adulthood, and the scale of give and take is still uneven. I'm still drowning in a sea of sadness, created with the waters of unfulfillment.

I thought time would solve things. I thought I would never have to point out the lacking pieces of our relationships because surely, with just enough time, wisdom, and experience, things would even out. I would feel less and less like my soul was being sucked from me, and start to feel like pieces of it were starting to be poured back in, even if it were as slow as molasses. But time didn't do the job I thought it would, so now I'm faced with doing it myself. I should have dealt with the task from the start, and now that I have to, I'm not sure how to do it at all.

It's not everyone. It's not all the time. Even those of you who are guilty don't do it on schedule... but it does happen. (Hell, I've written about it before. More than once.) It's not a delusion, as much as I wish it were every day. This has happened as long as I can remember, and it continues to happen, despite my internal wish for things to change. But I guess you can't bring forth change without saying or doing something, so this is some kind of bumbling, probably awful start.

I know I'm not perfect. I've done things wrong, I've shut people out, and I've been inconsistent with contact. And while I take personal responsibility for my faults and my own selfishness, a lot of my behavior over the years has been a reaction to yours. That doesn't mean I don't need to work on things, but I would love it more than life if you worked on your things, too.

First things first: I confess my sins.

1. I have made grave mistakes in friendships over the years. Most of them I made when I was younger, but I made a handful of horrid ones in my older life, too. However, the mistakes I've made have made me the grown-up I am today, trying my damnedest never to do them again and wishing, wishing, wishing you all would stop making them as well.

2. I DO shut people out, namely you, because when I consistently have expectations shattered or unreciprocated, it's easier just to bow out and guard my heart. I sit back and find people that do seem to want to give as much as me, who want to meet those expectations, and wait for the rest of the group to catch up. The only problem is, these people never do. And every time I give them a chance, give them the opportunity to live up to my expectations, they break my heart all over again. It's too much to cry every night about another forgotten call or text, another birthday missed. It's for my sanity that I pull away long enough to regroup and heal.

3. Mostly my inconsistent contact has to do with outside factors. I move a lot; I work very hard during the school year; I have graduate school to finish; I have to save my money. But you all also need to remember something I have ne'er argued and always confessed: I hate the phone. It brings me some anxiety, and it's just an annoying form of contact. But there is a small part of me that thinks some of that anxiety, which didn't begin until later in my life, comes from the inconsistency I've learned to expect in return.

Second things second: I explain.

1. You are not reliable. I know that sounds awful, and I'm truly sorry, but you aren't. You can be good people. You have been there in bad times and good, but not really on a constant basis. If we make plans, you often are late or cancel last minute. It would be okay if it were for something important or understandable, but when you just decide to bow out because you've found something more fun or are just too lazy, that's rude and insulting.

2. You don't care. I say that in the most general sense. You don't care about my life if it doesn't involve petty, pretty, easy things, but more bothersome is that you don't care about your own life. You don't care if you succeed, if you will have enough money for bills, if you find a job you love, if you find your own happiness, if you won't be too hungover to make the appointment we set a week ago. You don't care about finding yourself or finding the whole version of that self. You don't care about anything except initial satisfaction, often found in booze, drugs, gossip, or shallow bullshit. But I care. I care about everything, and I need my friends to care, too.

3. You turn it around on me. On the occasions I HAVE said something, my past has been thrown in my face. That's to be expected, I suppose, but those who have known me long enough can see the evolution I have made. And you know what? It's old. It's not effective. I know where I am well enough that the argument is invalid. We're talking about the people we are now, and the better people we should become. We're not talking about some dumb ass girl from two or ten years ago.

4. You don't understand. You don't understand the time constraints and responsibilities of adulthood, let alone the effect the intricacies of an individual has on both of them. For example, I have a problem with the fact you call bullshit on my health when I have cried and tried and worked and fallen and gotten back up about it over so many years. You haven't sat with me during a tachycardia attack, walked in on me crying on my floor in visceral pain, listened to me on the phone as I breathe for dear life, or felt the heavy weight of the fatigue I carry every day, yet still push through. I also have a problem with the fact that you don't respect my calendar, as if I'm an asshole for wanting to and making plans well, well in advance. If you make plans for something a week in advance, even then may be too late. I hate I can't be there for you, but if something is important enough that you would like me to be there, make sure you send me a reminder as soon as you think of it. You need to understand my health. You need to understand my calendar. You need to understand everything, and how everything changes when we're adults. With that understanding will come a respect that just isn't there with us right now. What the hell is friendship without respect?

Third things third: I'm sure I have done every single one of these things to you in my past, and for that, I am truly sorry. But I have been on a journey to wholeness for a very long time, and I cannot be whole by perpetuating this bad behavior myself. It has mostly ended for me, but I will say right now: it ends for me all the way today. However, that also means I can't surround myself with people who will not end the cycle themselves. I need to feel whole instead of drained, happy instead of constantly heartbroken. I need to be able to be the full me, and I can't do that unless you do the same.

As I mentioned when I wrote about this before, I've been mourning over this whole change for a really long time. Now I see the only way I can truly move on from my grief, and hopefully see a few of you there on the other side, is to set the truth free. I still love you, Toxic Ones.

Hoping you'll join me for the ride,

(it's gonna be a real honest, but fulfilling one),

Rachel

Pulse Check

If remembering me after my admittedly prolonged absence is not too hard to do, you might remember I turned 26 a few months ago. In honor of that, I decided to evolve the gonnas once again into a cute little list of things I was gonna make happen in the course of a year. I've had the fortune of crossing one of the to-do's off my list multiple times, but I realized that as often as I pulse check my list, you guys might be a little left in the dark. Without further ado, here are my charts, people! Please feel free to peruse them, and definitely let me know if you see signs of infection or impending death.

1. Wake up with the sun at least 180 days over the next year.

I've only woken up with the sun for about a week total so far, but thanks to a new job opportunity, this gonna will slowly start melting away!

2. Fly to visit my sister in Japan.

Not yet, but truly hoping the aforementioned job opportunity will be my ticket to this gonna. I can't wait to see all the beautiful scenery in person I've seen in her photos so far.

3. Finish my screenplay.

I've made some progress here! I'm still closer to the start than the finish, but I am also further from the beginning than I was before.

4. Don't let items I have gathered to create a project sit on my shelf for more than 2 weeks... ever.

This 26-for-26 gonna has been an epic failure so far. I have reminded myself that with all that's going on, it's okay to let this goal slide....... but I still can't help but wish I had the time to stick to my guns. I have done a little better about downsizing and working on what I can here and there, but there is definitely room for improvement before next July.

5. Diagnose and solve my voice problems, then sing publicly when I have the all clear.

I have actually DONE the latter half of this goal (karaoke nights DO COUNT, especially when you sing Les Mis by yourself) without doing the first. While I feel liberated and more ready to tackle this goal, more than anything, I now know that there is absolutely a REAL problem with my voice, and I need to take care of it now rather than later.

6. Get my teaching license.

As long as I keep my nose to the grindstone (and learn to accept that a perfect 4.0 might not be possible with a full-time job AND classes), I should have my license in May!

7. Write one blog every week!

This is the one that really spurred me to update everyone since I obviously haven't been blogging weekly. However, I have been writing a little more here and there overall, which is really what's important to me. I think a more properly worded goal would be "Have 52 new blog entries by next year," meaning if I have the time to write five times in one week, I will. If I have no time to write for a month, that's okay, too.

8. Learn to drive a manual car.

My handsome teacher is currently out of stick-shifting commission, so this is on hold for the time being. 

9. Make 50 YouTube videos.

I've made one. ONE! I've got work to do...

10. Get over my fear of heights by climbing a lighthouse, ziplining, both, or more!

Whereas I once dreaded this gonna, I'm actually kinda looking forward to getting over this fear, or at least diminishing it in my mind. The question remains: what exactly will I be doing to get over this fear? Skydiving is out, but I'm open to other suggestions, y'all.

11. Teach someone something life-changing.

Hopefully I will be doing this every day in my new position. And hopefully, it'll be somewhat tangible so I can report back here.

12. Make a Southern road trip to Texas and back.

See #2.

13. Finish writing a book with C.

We are so, so close to finishing this gonna. We have a self-imposed deadline of early December so we can distribute these bad boys as presents. It's so crazy to think that months ago, this story was just an idea, and now, it's almost finished!

14. Learn how to sew.

I have no idea how to even begin this one, but I REALLY, REALLY want to learn. Help?

15. Go legit camping for a weekend with J and the pups.

This has almost happened a handful of times, but life keeps getting in the way. We must make a note to ignore it for a weekend before it gets too cold!

16. Spend more time with my family.

I feel like I've been doing this, but I don't think I'll be able to properly gauge this until next July when I see the progress I've made over the course of a full year.

17. Do some photoshoots (at least one!) with a professional photographer.

18. Get something published.

I've found some contests for publishing, but so far, none of my already written material meets the criteria. Since I'm not in the position to write something brand new, the search continues... for now.

19. Raise $500 for my business, Southern Sheek.

I haven't raised anything so far. I'll most likely have to save this gonna until closer to the end of the year!

20. Do a Goodwill-level cleanout every 3 months until I only have what I (for the most part) need.

I have done this in off-beat ways, but there is definitely more to do before I can cross this off my list in good faith. I've been consigning some of my stuff with my favorite local store, as well as gathering random items here and there before loading them in bags in my trunk. I guess I need to actually make my way to Goodwill now, right?

21. Let go of toxic people in my life.

I've had to do some of this already, but whether I've really cleaned out the toxicity closet (and whether I've done it well) remains to be seen.

22. Make a weekend trip to a new place, any place.

I've made a lot of weekend trips, but none to a new place so far! Still waiting to find the perfect, cheap destination.

23. Write and send fanmail to all those people who have inspired me along the way.

I have addresses; I just need to get to writing!

24. Meet a sloth!

I actually attempted to do this with J, and my friends L and B, at a local science museum...... BUT THE SLOTH HAD INEXPLICABLY BEEN MOVED TO THE AQUARIUM, which was under construction. P.S. Sloths are great swimmers, so I mean, I GUESS I GET IT, but I really almost cried.

25. Really make 10 people's day - five of whom I know and five strangers.

Hopefully I've done this without knowing, but now that I have the means to pay it forward, I'm really going to try and do a better job.

26. Be thankful and say so at the end of every day.

Despite this one seeming so easy, it's actually the hardest for me. Most days, I am thankful and say so. But there are days when {most} everything seems so bad that it's hard to remember to be grateful for the things that remain intact. I have been doing better lately, and I'm hoping I've trained my brain to stay in that spot of thankfulness.

Tired of Tired

I'm tired.

I'm tired of not appreciating enough the only job that will have me. I'm tired of not having money. I'm tired of working too hard to make the career I DO want for myself. I'm tired of being told "sometimes you have to do things in life you don't want to do," just to turn around and alternatively be told "life's too short, so do what you love." I'm tired of asking for help and not getting any. I'm tired of being told to ask for help after I've already asked. I'm tired of busting my ass to make an occupation I love and getting door after door slammed in my face. I'm tired of people telling me "you must not be working hard enough, then."

I'm tired.

I'm tired of feeling anxious and worried all the time. I'm tired of explaining those things stem from illness. I'm tired of explaining that yes, mental illness is real. I'm tired of feeling sick all the time. I'm tired of doctors telling me I'm okay when I feel so distinctly un-okay. I'm tired of feeling fatigue on 3 or 8 or 10 hours of sleep. I'm tired of internally hating my sicknesses when I love my self and my body so much. I'm tired of being told to walk it off, work through it, get over it. I'm tired of searching for a solution and finding the same old lines fed to me by professionals who haven't ever had their mind and body fighting against them. I'm tired of not getting to enjoy life because I'm bound by invisible chains of pain.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of being the last one. I'm tired of being a best friend, but not THE best friend. I'm tired of being alone and lonely, one or the other or both. I'm tired of waiting in the wings. I'm tired of putting myself out there too often, too far. I'm tired of having to go back into hiding. I'm tired of always caring, but never being cared for. I'm tired of missing people, even when some of those people are still right in front of me. I'm tired of calling, texting, emailing, chatting. I'm tired of letting all of it slide, letting everyone think it's okay to put me last. I'm tired of being unsupported.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of knowing where I should be, yet not having the means to get there. I'm tired of knowing who and what makes me happy, yet unimportant realities get priority, get in the way when they shouldn't. I'm tired of apologizing. I'm tired of trying to fit my round personality into a boring square hole. I'm tired of screaming. I'm tired of not fulfilling my potential in life for reasons I don't understand, but reasons that nonetheless weigh so heavily on my shoulders every day.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of knowing I'm good enough and falling on my face every. single. time. I'm tired of being told to grow up, to stop caring, to get over it, to let go of my dreams. I'm tired of a lack of faith, of hope, of connection, of love. I'm tired of pleasing others who say they know what's best for me. I'm tired of being told I'm not capable of knowing what is best for myself. I'm tired of standing up for myself. I'm tired of being anyone other than myself.

I'm tired of being tired.

Number 17

17. Do some photoshoots (at least one!) with a professional photographer.

About a month out from my 26th birthday, I didn't expect to have a full gonna from my 26 for 26 list scratched off. I expected to have a tally of days up with the sun and perhaps a few leads on some of my other goals, but to believe I'd have one done, finished, TOTALLY FINITO... would be unrealistic. I had to be willing to put time into the process before getting actual results, else I would be swimming in constant disappointment my gonnas weren't happening fast enough, or worse, at all.

But I think something inside of me knew being so realistic would hinder me this time around. 26 Gonnas for 26 is about reaching for something more and going bigger than I have in any year before. And like that tried and true line, you have to do something you've never done before to get something you've never had. And you know what the something I'd never done before was? Opening my eyes. Being receptive. Appreciating what I had at my fingertips...

Literally.

When scrolling through Instagram as usual, I stumbled across a new local shop. I loved everything about it instantly, so I did what we all do in the age of the follow: followed. Less than a week later, I answered the simple modeling call they put out on their IG account. Sam, the owner, invited me right over for a fitting. Instead of questioning everything the way I always do, I just dove in. And you know what? It felt so comfortable and right.

In what feels like a whirlwind of only seconds, I was meeting up with a group of wonderful models and photographers to do the most epic and exciting guerilla photoshoot for Camel City Covet. Everyone was so open and kind, and it really allowed for the most palpable storm of creativity I have ever felt. It was nothing short of inspiring.

photo by Drake Avenue Photography

photo by Jeremy Maynard

photo by Drake Avenue Photography

photo by Skyler Brown

photo by Drake Avenue Photography

Though tired from a twelve-hour day, I was deliriously happy post-photoshoot. I felt invigorated by the creativity I had been a part of that day, and was pumped to have made a great handful of new friends. Most of all, I was wiser. In less than a day, I had learned how bold and brave you have to be in order to make some of your dreams a reality. I had learned that even though sometimes you're out of practice and even though it won't be perfect, it's essential to take a first step. I had learned that sometimes, you just have to jump right in... even if you're jumping into a freezing cold pool.

And you know what else? It was really, really fun.

photo by Drake Avenue Photography

photo by Drake Avenue Photography

All photos seen here are property of their respective photographers. They're all incredibly talented, awesome, and kind people, so please don't be crappy and take their work without asking. You can check out their stellar work on the sites I linked below each photo.

If you see any clothes you like, order online from Camel City Covet!

Geek Love

There’s no such thing as a fake nerd, or geek, or even just a fan. You know why? Because you can’t fake love.

There are few photos in my archive I love more than this one. It’s not because I think I look great or because it was taken by one of my favorite photographers; it’s because these kids were so excited to merely be in my presence. And instead of instantly seeing the 20 extra pounds and adult acne of days past, I see the joy in their eyes and remember how enthusiastic they were to meet a complete stranger who simply wanted to dress like someone both she and they admired.

I was Lara Croft that day. The costume wasn’t anything special, just a simple riff off Angie’s movie stills. I knew some of the hardcore VG fans would glare a hole right through me, but I didn’t care. I was there to have fun with my friend for her birthday and to get a chance to wander around as a pretend badass all day.

As I suspected, there was a group of “real nerds” who scoffed at my get-up, but there were always many more accommodating folks to jump into a group photo with or give a knowing glance toward. These welcoming people are the ones I call my own, the geeks and nerds and oddballs who just want to have fun doing what they do and loving what they love. I was mostly content, enjoying the frenzy of energy around me.

So as I passed by a delightful version of VG Lara and smiled at her, I was pretty caught off guard when she made what I imagine is her “vomiting violently into a dirty toilet” face before turning her eyes elsewhere. I was about 10 seconds away from getting angry, cursing this small but pointed group of people for ruining my day! For ruining a fun time, for ruining so many others’ day, for RUINING EVERYTHING! ...

… When the cutest little boys (they’re probably 30 – I have no age-o-meter) I’ve ever seen came barreling towards me, their eyes filled with a fire I can still recall three years later. The first to reach me squealed a little and sputtered out “CAN I HUG YOU?!”

I laughed.

“Of course!”

He gingerly put his arms around me before going full nerd-hug and squeezing ‘til his con sweat had thoroughly drenched me. His friends all asked the same question before also asking if they could have photos taken with me. I tried to pose in character, but it was impossible to wipe the smile from my face. They were so undeniably happy, and I had brought them that joy in way no one else could. That feeling is one I haven’t had often since, but one I’ve never forgotten.

What I felt that day is what I’ve come to realize is what I want my life to be all the time. I want to be among my people, whoever they are, and give them that feeling again. I want to make a living making other people happy, arriving in a room, and just hugging them until they feel like they’re okay to let go again. And I don’t want those precious people or myself or anyone I’ve yet to meet feel alienation ever again from a group they thought they were safe with.

I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I do know I’m gonna… and I’m gonna soon.

(All photos by the fabulous Dawen Huang)

My Night with George and Neil

via The Unchained Tour (Seester is in this pic!)

Last year, I quit my job. I had been changing for months, as had the company. Those shifts made me unable to give what I should to a job that was no longer mine, nor to a great group of people who cared for me. Early in the morning of September 19, I gave my notice of resignation. It was scary, but necessary. It was freeing in the most exhilarating way, but also incredibly terrifying. What would I do? Where would I go? What did I want to be when I grew up?

I showered and tidied the house, trying to clean slate the whole of everything; of me and of my surroundings. I wanted to clear my head of the rough month I had just barely dragged myself through and the many months of political job shift. My brain felt defogged for the first time in months, and in that moment of clarity, my brain went straight to.... my sister?

My sister? Why was I thinking about my sister? There was static in my brain for a moment as it remembered how to think at all about something other than work and heartbreak warfare. And then, like a lightening bolt, it struck me: my sister was down off the mountain and in my town. I called her immediately.

"ARE YOU IN WINSTON?!"

She laughed and told me she was, that she was about to call me. She had been willingly taken by a traveling hoard of raconteurs on something called The Unchained Tour.

"Want to come? I can put you ON THE LIST!"

Not a girl to turn down a visit with her sister (or a VIP experience), I took up her offer. And not a girl to go anywhere uninformed, I looked up the tour.

It took me about 10 seconds to start squealing like a 14-year-old fangirl when I saw George Dawes Green's name on the roster. THE CAVEMAN'S VALENTINE, IS LIKE, MY JAAAAAM!, I imagined myself saying to him. Nice. Poised. Eloquent. Rachel.

I didn't know any of the other names until I got to Neil Gaiman, someone I admired for his stories adapted to screen, but also someone whose work I had never had the chance to read. I figured it wouldn't matter, as the tour was a not-so-rag-tag rag tag group of storytellers, orally giving the audience a snippet of their lives and pieces of themselves along the way. My body started revving up in the anxious-excited way it does before something new and unexpected, so I decided to head over to the venue and bide my jitters and time 'til the performance.

Showing up to a full parking lot only aided to the anxcitement in my bones, but seeing my baby sis quelled the nerves. She was hard at work, but looked like she had been having the time of her life doing it. I left her to do her cd burning as I went to the auditorium to find an end seat. I always pick the end seats.

What ensued deserves pages and pages of descriptions, but I almost can't bring myself to write it. The storytellers opened a vein and bled on the stage. They gave us the dark and the light, the heartwarming and the heartbreaking. They made us laugh 'til we cried or just cried. There were stories of love, sexuality, writing, fighting, life in general, and storytelling itself. The whole audience was just as engaged as I was. You could almost feel the room move together like a giant organism. I could have sworn I felt a calm heartbeat all around me. Trying to write about it is like trying to take a photo of a Pacific sunset: it will be beautiful, but no one will understand how it felt. You weren't there, man! 

When I was done, I hung around and watched the people clamor to meet the storytellers, Neil in particular. It was moving in a way, how much they admired Neil, though I couldn't help but wonder if if ever got daunting for him to deal with. I hung out at a table alone as my sister ran back and forth from the merch table. The documentary crew came over to film me, but my answer seemed lackluster for the director who soon moved on. Her assistant looked like a kid, then made a release form from a napkin and a marker, perfectly appropriate for the age I imagined him to be. I signed the hell out of it. That kid had moxie.

The room started to buzz less, and I barely had time to relish in it before I realized my sister bringing George around a group of people to meet me. I immediately broke into a sweat and threatened myself silently: DON'T YOU DARE TELL HIM THE CAVEMAN'S VALENTINE IS YOUR JAM, RACHEL! DON'T YOU DO IT!

I took the man in I had earlier seen on stage. He was lithe and handsome, dressed in a green velvet suit. I reached out my hand to shake his as I heard my sister introduce us, though she sounded trapped in a bubble.

"It's nice to meet, you," I said. Yes! I CAN DO THIS! "I'm just trying not to throw up on your shoes." Oh, god dammit.

I thought he would laugh, but instead he asked me to repeat what I'd said. Ever the honest one, I did as he asked. His face was one I will never forget, somewhere between disgust and laughter. I think I awkwardly sat back down and tried to make some kind of intelligible conversation, but it wasn't long before he slunk away from me. Strike one, Rachel. Strike one.

Sis eventually saved me from myself by introducing me to Neil. At that point, I was dripping in shame, so I had no more pride left. It worked to my advantage, as I managed to get out a couple of meaningful sentences that didn't involve the words "vomit" or "jam." He introduced me to his daughter before the two of them went off to gather their things.

That was about as far as I thought the night would go. I would say hello, shake some hands, have some family time, and go home. But then the crew started asking me where they should eat when they couldn't quite remember the name of the place they had initially intended to go. I managed to sputter out a couple of suggestions before they started to leave. It was that awkward quick exit some people make out of a conversation that leaves you not exactly knowing what you're supposed to do. I finally just turned around, and George was standing right behind me with my sister.

"You're coming with us, right?!" he asked, smiling all the while.

"YES! Y...es."

"Good! Let's go!"

He cut right, and I just stared at my sister in awe. She did the signature giggle-shrug both her and my dad possess. We geared up – for some reason there was a lot of gear that night – and started walking around downtown with the crew. It was magical, not because some of them were renowned authors, but because the night was cool and the lighting was perfect. This group of amazingly talented people had first taken in my sister and now me with open arms, and they were wandering in my pretty little Southern city beside us. The crew and cast of the tour were seamlessly moving around one another, joking and laughing in the way a family would. It was clear the strangers and friends and strangers who had become friends had all become a fucked up little family, too... in the best way possible.

We wandered around in a noisy, rambunctious pack until we picked a table at the local microbrewery. It was mostly abandoned by that hour on a weeknight, so our party of 15+ was easily accommodated. My sister and I headed straight for the middle of the table so we could sit side by side, and George headed straight to the seat beside me. What ensued was an unbelievable late dinner full of Double IPAs and conversation with some of the coolest people I've ever met whose names I can't remember.

I got to know the people who made up the team of storytellers, even those behind the scenes. They were all so high off the energy of one another, and relished bringing new people into the fold; a rare quality to find in one person, yet alone a group of them. I got to know Neil's daughter, a fabulous young woman who just radiated happiness. I got to whisper with my sister about how surreal and stellar the night was. And to top it off, I got to share my own story, and the entire table listened. They all drank their libations and ate their pub food, but every one of them was staring at me and hearing every word I had to say. I hadn't realized how much I needed someone to just pay attention.

After my story, George pulled my shoulder in a signal for me to turn around. He leaned on his elbow on the table, breathed out, and looked me square in the eye.

"Tell me about your writing," he said.

I almost screamed in his face out of sheer disbelief. Luckily, the Double IPA packs a lot of alcohol, so I had enough liquid courage to play off the freak-out and come up with some sort of savvy reply about majoring in journalism and where I wanted to see this very blog end up. Even though I'm sure in the present that my savvy response of past was probably more bumbling than brilliant, he encouraged me with genuine kindness the entire time. He saved my life with that compassion; all of them did. I had been in a pit, and they had just thrown me my long-awaited rope.

The merrymaking was coming to a close as the bar was. As we signed off on our tabs, George jumped from table to table, telling everyone not to leave, for we had to race the buses! And oh, it would be no ordinary race: whoever's bus reached the finish line last would win. That was the moment when I started to question whether or not I was living or dreaming, but the realization it was the former was almost overwhelming it was so exciting.

We practically ran back to the venue to prep the buses for racetime. George was running like a sprite from each one, assigning roles and reinforcing rules. I watched as he got the two repurposed school buses in prime race position. Before I knew it, he had raised his arms and dropped them in a signal for the buses to start moving. Those of us watching started a chorus of laughter almost immediately; while required to actually move, the buses had no other speed requirements. George had already reached us across the parking lot at the finish line before they had barely moved four feet. I watched his face as he reveled in the idea he had thought of only minutes before come to life before his very eyes.

I turned to one of the storytellers. He, in fact, had been the MC of the show.

"I loved your stories the most, I think. I just quit my job, today, you know?"

He looked at me with kind eyes and smiled.

"Thank you! I heard. What are you going to do now?"

I thought I knew the answer, but I really didn't. I had to steep in his question for a minute before I could respond.

"To do this. To focus on my writing, and really do something I love. I'm tired of doing things I hate just because I'm supposed to."

He nodded.

"It's just... crazy. Today I quit my job, and 12 hours later, here I am with all of you."

"It's so cool how that works. It's definitely fate," he said.

I nodded and smiled, but had to turn. My eyes were filled with grateful tears. I looked around: at the cast, the crew, my sister, the slow moving buses. All of it was moving beyond measure, and it really was fate. It was fate that I should meet such an inspiring group of strangers. It was fate that I should have people listen to, support, and believe in my dreams. It was fate that I met them that day at that time because it all led me to where I am now, which is on the path to making those dreams come true.

Those buses finally crossed the finish line to the cheers of many. I will cross my own finish line the same way, and I hope when I get there, George and Neil and my darling sister and every single one of those traveling artists know how much of my finish I owe to that night and to them.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Me & Drew

I've been feeling a little dried up lately writing-wise. It's not that I don't have ideas, it's just that I can't really get them out. Sometimes putting an actual pen to paper helps get things flowing, but most of the time, there's just some kind of congestion in the thought-to-words process.

But during this gloomy Monday and a temporary Internet outage, I decided to crack open the newest copy of Good Housekeeping. This mag just started showing up one day, and I'm not one to turn away anything that involves good interior design and organization. Besides, I have my suspicions that my delightful Grandma sent the surprise subscription my way...

Backstory aside, I finally got to the cover article about Drew Barrymore. I've always been a fan, (though I know she can be another one of those polarizing celebs) so I was curious to see what the gal had been up to since her marriage and baby havin'. And on a gloomy Monday with my nose in the pages of GH, I had an unexpected moment of inspiration alongside Ms. Barrymore.

Her achievements and drive are both motivational and admirable, but even more were Drew's fierce love and happiness she has toward her lot in life that really struck a chord with me. (Read the full article here if you so please.) I've felt this deep level of gratitude with the universe lately, despite not being able to find any other words for the intensity of gratefulness I have other than "thank you." When I read about someone else feeling that kind of fullness and not getting overwhelmed in the process, it made it a little easier to find the right thing to say. It felt easier to let go of the things I have to wait for, and to make moves on the things I have power over right now. It even made it easier to forgive myself for taking yet another day recovery day for this cold and shoving four scoops of ice cream in my face while doing so.

I may have to shake the sleep from all of my creative and motivative bones, but the feeling of simpatico I have from this little article will make the comeback more manageable and serve as a constant source of inspiration to return to in the difficult hours.

And all the while, I'm going to stay so, so thankful for all of the love (and every big AND tiny thing in between) I have in my life. Just like Drew, I'm intending to fight like a lion to stay happy for the rest of my days.

I'm Ready, 2013

I spent my last hours of 2012 singing and dancing in a coliseum with a bunch of old work buddies. The Avett Brothers were rocking hard then singing sweetly, and they counted down the welcoming of the new year with the thousands of us that came to see them. Balloons and confetti and voices reigned down, and with them, the promise of a new year. The promise of a better year after a really tough one.

And you know what? Maybe it's just because we're all so damn determined to make it feel better this time around, but so far, 2013 really has been full of greatness. It's been chocked full of hope and niceness. I've seen people remembering what manners are and doing pleasant things for one another. I've seen a renewed sparkle in everyone's eyes, a kind of hop in everyone's step. And I'm really hoping that if we all hope and try hard enough, we can keep it this way for the year and many more years to come.

So without further ado, here are my resolutions for the year. They are simple and complex simultaneously, and only because I have such a sharp picture in my mind am I able to make them so short-n'-sweet.

Not only am I blessed with a resolution partner again, but a NETWORK of partners who are all resolved to grow and learn and live better from here on out. Honestly, this community growing closer, these friends and lovers and families and everything in-between, is the thing I'm most excited about for 2013.

Let's do this, y'all.

The Best Damn Year of My Life

It's absolutely stunning how much can happen in only a year's time.

On a beautiful, dewy night in May, nestled in the North Carolina mountains with a houseful of friends, I sat snuggled on a bed with a box of Kashi cereal. I have a habit of bringing a snack to parties after many instances of winding up stranded and hungry, my heart palpitating, "WHY DIDN'T YOU THINK AHEAD, DUDE?!"

He walked up and sat down beside me. I had kept most of the cereal to myself, but his hands seemed clean enough and his smile was dazzling. "Sure," I said to his request for some, "but don't bogart it."

We sat together, talking and instigating our drunker pals with fake gossip for our own entertainment. We laughed and escaped to a quieter spot when our goading got a little out of hand. We talked more about everything, including our random and similar heart troubles. I barely knew him, but felt a very easy and strong connection that made me smile well after I'd departed for the evening.

The next day we all met for lunch on the beautiful patio at our favorite dive of a pub. We sat together, chatting the same invigorating chat as the night before. I had to depart back to the lowlands, but not before exchanging numbers with the most interesting person I'd met in longer than I could remember.

I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting to see if I'd imagined the connection, if he'd actually get in touch. If we'd actually ever see each other again. He put my mind at ease with an invitation to hang out that weekend and since then, it has been a whirlwind of unparalleled laughter and love, so much love.

This is the man I now call my boyfriend, but he's so much more than that trivial label. He's my best friend, my personal comedian, my supporter, my sounding board for everything. He has filled this year with so much joy for me, even during the darkest of times.

I love knowing that I can come home to him at any time. I love that when I tell him I wrote this, he will make some deprecating comment that will make both of us laugh. I love that because of the confidence I have in our relationship, I have the courage to make this (semi) public declaration of love for a man who deserves that kind of thing.

From warm summer days by the pool, to major hatin' on kids distracting our games of putt-putt, to late nights in our state's capital, to cool fall evenings in our now-home of the Twin City, to a holiday season of firsts, to cookouts every day in the spring weather, we have grown and grown together. I can only imagine the growth that waits on the road ahead.

I could wax on about a night in August when I heard the best combination of words known to man. I could tell you about the fuzzy feelings during that October Live concert. I could tell you how it still feels amazing every time he takes care of me or stands in my corner. I could tell you about every day I have spent with J in great detail, but I won't because it would overwhelm the both of us  – you with words, me with love and so much appreciation.

After a few bumps in the romantic road, I have finally found a person who respects me enough to be honest and loyal. I finally found a man who wants to walk beside me instead of in front of me, who believes in my intelligence and my dreams. I found someone I can count on, no matter how murky and rough the waters become. I found someone who can make me laugh until I feel like I might burst, and sometimes I do with tears.

So to the man in question, thank you. Thank you, J, for being who you are. Thank you for making me feel loved and secure. Thank you for being man enough to be with me through everything. Thank you for being brave enough to stand on shaky ground once and a while. Thank you for this lovely home we have with two wild pups. Thank you for making me the best version of me I've ever been. Above all, thank you for knowing like I do that laughter is the most important part of anything in life, and ensuring that I'm doing just that, first thing in the morning.

You're pretty groovy, kid. I think I might keep you around. Happy "I met you one year ago," Eddie. Bern loves you.