Throwback Thursday
I've been Faking It for a year now.
This time last year, I was driving to Tempe to have breakfast with a friend on their birthday. At the time though, we really weren't that close; I wanted us to be, but we weren't yet. So I got down to Chompies and sat in the parking lot listening to NPR because I was super early.
I'd been thinking about writing again. About picking up the blog and trying again. The day before this breakfast, I'd logged on for the first time in almost a year and changed some of the formatting. I changed the background and updated my picture, nothing changed about my bio; that was and will always be true, unfortunately. But I didn't know what to call it, because I didn't know what to write about.
When I first started the blog, I had been drawn to a quote by e.e. cummings "in my end is my beginning" and that was what I called the blog. Grad school was ending, and while I've always believed I'm living my life now, not waiting for it to begin, I knew that one phase was ending and another just getting ready. This is probably always true, but it wasn't what I wanted to talk about anymore. My old life was gone.
When I thought about what I'd been doing over the past couple of years and as I tried to look down the road to what was coming, I really had no idea what was going on. The last few years have been an amalgamation of the most diverse experiences I could ever imagine. I've been living without a plan. Literally, waking up every day wondering what was going to happen. I'd never been like that before. I always knew what I'd be doing today, tomorrow, next month, for the next two years. Phases ended more quickly than I thought possible and I really didn't anticipate the beginning of something new.
Things have definitely calmed down a bit this year and I'm figuring it out. But in order to find my way, I fake it a lot. My prior failures have left me really nervous to try new things. So, I pretend I know what I'm doing. I pretend I'm confident when I'm terrified. I pretend things will be ok because I still don't really believe they will. But I like things again. I let myself feel things again. I have good friends. I have two jobs, that I really enjoy. And I write. Admittedly, not always very well, but I do it.
And all it really took to get me to share my bizarre internal monologue, at least once a week for the last year, was for a stranger to call me "basic." Thanks for the push. And thanks to anyone who reads this. It's not for you, if I'm being honest, but I hope you like it anyway.
This time last year, I was driving to Tempe to have breakfast with a friend on their birthday. At the time though, we really weren't that close; I wanted us to be, but we weren't yet. So I got down to Chompies and sat in the parking lot listening to NPR because I was super early.
I'd been thinking about writing again. About picking up the blog and trying again. The day before this breakfast, I'd logged on for the first time in almost a year and changed some of the formatting. I changed the background and updated my picture, nothing changed about my bio; that was and will always be true, unfortunately. But I didn't know what to call it, because I didn't know what to write about.
When I first started the blog, I had been drawn to a quote by e.e. cummings "in my end is my beginning" and that was what I called the blog. Grad school was ending, and while I've always believed I'm living my life now, not waiting for it to begin, I knew that one phase was ending and another just getting ready. This is probably always true, but it wasn't what I wanted to talk about anymore. My old life was gone.
When I thought about what I'd been doing over the past couple of years and as I tried to look down the road to what was coming, I really had no idea what was going on. The last few years have been an amalgamation of the most diverse experiences I could ever imagine. I've been living without a plan. Literally, waking up every day wondering what was going to happen. I'd never been like that before. I always knew what I'd be doing today, tomorrow, next month, for the next two years. Phases ended more quickly than I thought possible and I really didn't anticipate the beginning of something new.
Things have definitely calmed down a bit this year and I'm figuring it out. But in order to find my way, I fake it a lot. My prior failures have left me really nervous to try new things. So, I pretend I know what I'm doing. I pretend I'm confident when I'm terrified. I pretend things will be ok because I still don't really believe they will. But I like things again. I let myself feel things again. I have good friends. I have two jobs, that I really enjoy. And I write. Admittedly, not always very well, but I do it.
And all it really took to get me to share my bizarre internal monologue, at least once a week for the last year, was for a stranger to call me "basic." Thanks for the push. And thanks to anyone who reads this. It's not for you, if I'm being honest, but I hope you like it anyway.
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