Three Weeks Out

Yeah, that was definitely a title reference to that one Walking Dead episode, 18 Miles Out. Get over it. I'm in a funk. I have been for a while. I've been able to write for WfW a little bit, but not much here. I definitely lost my two week advantage. I'm three weeks out from my last post here and three weeks out from the day I leave Iowa. Wow.

26 short days stand between me and what I think is my dream??? What the Hell was I ever thinking? Someone? ANYONE? Nah, okay that's cool.

It's not that bad. I was going to be taking this time off anyway. And if I hate it, I can come home. Maybe I'll live with mom instead of dad then. It's not like I feel hopeless or fucked or anything along those lines. I'm pretty excited and I am so thrilled to be going back. But I think I'm more scared this time, at least in a different way. I was scared to leave my friends and family last time, and to leave my home but now I know I can do those things. I can be away from the people I love and maintain relationships and I can have more than one place to call my home, more than one place that calls my name. I am really going to miss Iowa in Spring, and the State Fair, and the I-Cubs. I'm going to miss those things but I know I will be okay.

What is getting to me now is that I might fail. I don't want to, I don't want to prove everyone right. Everyone who insisted that I go to school and "finish strong" to get that degree! Gee! I'm tired and snarky today. I feel empty, emotionless actually. I feel like I'm forcing these words from my fingers. I'm rambling. I don't want to be a bad example, a cautionary tale. I don't want to be a good example either! "Oh look there, she did it without, and she did it well." I just want to live and not be viewed through 1,000 lenses. When I came home, I felt new and revived. On top of the world and alive. Now I feel sapped and exhausted.

No one would go to the Cubs game with me tonight and it felt really important. I wanted to go and see the new boys, the up and comers. I wanted to sit in the setting sun and enjoy the atmosphere. I wanted more to say when I know I should be staying quiet. I should be leaving him alone, even though he gave me permission. Kind of. Baseball talk is allowed and I stepped outside of those lines yesterday and I feel bad. I didn't mean to. I figured Ben and Bre were fair territory. I want to turn back time, I want to not feel sad, I want to not be sitting here listening to the playlist titled "effie" and remembering everything. I want to not be playing "Please Remember Me" on repeat. I want a lot.

I'm sitting here at Smokey Row trying not to cry because of all the things I want and can't yet have. You'd think I would be happy that one piece of the puzzle seems to be falling into place. I need to find peace, I need to make a plan. I need to set goals and make steps and strides. I don't know if I'll ever feel "accomplished" or "finished" but I want to stop sitting and wallowing. Steve wanted so much more for me and I should live up to that. Hell, even Noah wanted more for me. If only he could see me now.

Make a plan, then let the plan worry. Don't lose the thread. And.. but...
My heart hurts, but I have to keep moving forward. Maybe this is a lost day. Maybe this is a pitiful day. Either way, I have to keep going. In 26 days my life is going to take a new, drastic, exciting, terrifying, amazing turn.

Happy Birthday

I have plenty I could be doing right now. In fact, I have a whole to-do list.
I'm roughly 3 weeks behind on posts for Waiting for Walt if I want to finish my CP posts before I start my new program. I have new things to discover and play around with on my new website. I have editing to do, promotion to do, debuting to do. I should go home and see my dad for the first time in 48 hours.

But I'm sitting here at Smokey Row trying to write one of my posts and I keep having flashbacks to being on a tram. I'm riding on the platform and Morgado is sauntering up to me from the lot with some smart-ass comment or I'm standing at point in the lot and chatting to Andy, and Vince, and Justin. I can't do this tonight. I thought I needed to write, but I can't focus enough on the task at hand.

Maybe it's just the day. It is his birthday after all.

This day has almost come and gone with no significance. For nine months I've been trying desperately to figure out why 3-1-8 sounded so familiar, why those numbers stuck out. Now here I am, convinced that something was going to happen today, but nothing has. I messaged Steve, he replied in a kind way. I'm still broken.

I don't know what is wrong with me. I'm sitting in this perfectly nice coffee shop listening to George Strait(which admittedly probably isn't helping) trying to write and I'm just distracted and sad. 50 days to go before I leave and start all over. No time at all, and yet all the time in the world. I'm so scared to leave, a different kind of afraid than before. I'm excited, but this time I'm afraid to fail. Before, it was the fear of the completely unknown. I know now a few crucial details that will help me along, but failure is still an option. And what the Hell am I doing with my life? What if I have to come home and face everyone after failing yet again? Failed school, failed Disney, failed myself. It seems like a dark and ominous road to be honest.

I'm trying not to lose the thread. I'm trying to remember to take one day at a time. But I'm scared and I'm going against everything I have known. I hope that you would still be proud of me.

Still Hurting

I don't even know if I want to write about this. If this is something that I need to put down and have forever, but Lord knows that writing seems to be cathartic for me.

Last week, dad and I had a huge fight. Now we've had arguments before, raised voices and rolling eyes, but nothing like this. Slamming doors, yelling over each other, actual anger. And words that should have gone unsaid. Words that didn't come me. Now this blog is for me most of the time, so there's no reason for me to lie here. I'm being objective in this. I may have yelled and stormed out of the room showing immaturity in my actions, but I did not say anything designed to hurt my father's feelings. Trust me, there were 100 things that came to mind during and after that would have cut him to the quick, but I refrained because I didn't want to be the person that resorted to hurtful words.

I don't know if it matters why the argument started anymore, but rather the words said and the aftermath of the fight. Perhaps he was angry for other reasons, feeling depressed and needed an outlet for all of the pent up emotion. Or maybe he was actually angry with me. I don't really know. I do know that I don't feel comfortable or welcome in the house right now. I know that I can't wait until I can move 1300 miles away. I know that I am still hurting.

I am following my dreams. I am chasing my heart, following the path I know I should be taking, and apparently that's a disappointment to him. Hey, I get it. I didn't finish school in 3, 4, 5 years. I didn't study mathematics or engineering. I didn't pass every class with flying colors. I didn't live up to the dream you had in your head. I can totally see how those things might make you sad, Hell, maybe even disappointed. For a minute. Then, if I was in your situation looking at my own child, I would realize that my child is an adult. Their own person who must in turn follow their own path. I don't have children so I can't say I fully understand the whole "not wanting them to make my same mistakes" thing, but I get the gist of it and all I can say to that is that sometimes you have to just let someone fall and learn on their own.

I'm sorry that I won't be finishing school in the next year. That wasn't going to happen anyway.
I'm sorry I'm not following the path you had laid out in your head.
I'm sorry that I'm not the perfect carbon copy of you that you wanted me to be.
I'm sorry that your life isn't fulfilling and you're jealous that mine is.
I'm sorry that mom left you.
I'm sorry that you raised me to think for myself and have my own thoughts, and now that those thoughts differ from you, you find that upsetting.
I'm sorry that you feel like you have the right to tell me you're disappointed in me because I'm going to be happy.

And on second thought, I'M NOT SORRY AT ALL. Just because you are stuck in the same place you've been in for 50 years doesn't mean I have to be. You don't have to be so miserable, trust me. It's easy to fall into the hole, I know that very well. When the same old feelings sneak up, it's almost simpler to just let it consume you than to fight, because fighting is exhausting. However, at some point, you have to take responsibility for yourself. You can't just float on through blaming the depression and blaming my mom. Take a look at yourself and realize that if you want to be happy, you have to make a goddamn effort. Either that or continue to wallow, but don't expect anyone to feel sorry for you, and you sure as Hell don't get to take it out on anyone. Maybe Disney will be a huge failure, maybe this program will be the worst experience of my life, maybe I'll regret every second, and maybe I'll be home in six months. You'd probably like that, so you can tell me you were right all along. I'm willing to bet though that it's going to be amazing and I'm going to have a great time. That I'll spend a few years making magic and filling my heart, and then I'll finish school and follow the next path in front of me.

Just because you're "a hurt old man," doesn't excuse a damn word you said to me. If you can't recognize that you shouldn't say every single thought that comes to your mind, that telling someone how you feel shouldn't come at the cost of their feelings, that maybe brutal honesty isn't always the way to go (especially regarding your children), if you can't understand how telling your child "you disappoint me," could possibly hurt your feelings, then I can do nothing to help you. I mean sure, if I was murdering people or if I was in jail for some heinous crime, I could totally see being disappointed in me. It's pretty shameful though to believe that you're in the right for telling me those things for simply living my own life. Maybe you think that all of this has blown over, that it's all fine and dandy. And honestly, I wish that I could call you out for the bullshit apology you gave me. "I'm sorry you feel that way," is no apology at all. It's deflecting and it's designed to make me feel even worse for having my feelings. And by the way, I'm not too thin-skinned to handle a mature argument or conversation. I am entirely allowed to be hurt or upset by anything anyone says to me whether you deem it "enough" or not. You don't get to say hurtful things designed to make me feel bad and then backtrack and you cannot tell me or anyone else when you did or did not hurt my feelings. That's not how that works.

Oh, and another thing- it's pretty damn condescending to tell me that I sound like my mother. Perhaps, just maybe, if we sound alike, the common factor between us is not just blood relation. That's another thing you don't seem to understand. No, you don't get to tell me how you feel about my mother and the divorce. You can tell literally any other person in your life, but you do not get to make snarky comments or continue to blame her, or shame me for going to dinner with her once a fucking week. Do you know how many more times I get to see her before I go to Disney? Eight. I live in your house, I am a human presence in your every day life, and providing I can see my mother once a week until I leave, I get to see her eight more times. How dare you make me feel bad for rebuilding that relationship. Shame on you for even letting those words come out of your mouth. You don't get to tell me it feels like I'm rubbing it in your face, and then say "no no, it's great. Really, you should see your mother." You're goddamn right I should. And I will continue to see her as often as I please. You don't get to throw those things in my face, tell me I must not be disappointed in my mother when you know damn well I spent the better part of a year barely talking to her, and then say that you're glad we're getting along now. I'm sorry you're still hurt, no one expects you to just be over something like that immediately, but at some point, you can't blame her anymore. You have to take a good hard look at the role you played, accept your own responsibility, and move on. You don't get to be the poor baby for the rest of your life in this. I am far enough removed from my initial anger to see the mistakes on both sides, and at 67, you should be mature enough to do the same.

I'd really have loved to be a fly on the wall in your doctor's office today. Or when you called Kathy that night. I would have loved to hear what you had to say about me. Was I selfish and bratty? Was I overreacting and irrational? Was I rude, disrespectful, and hurtful? Do I not appreciate anything I have? Oh hey, can you point to something now, some tangible proof that I don't appreciate the things you've done for me? Still drawing a blank, huh? Interesting. Funny how the moment I break from you, how when I buy my own groceries with my own money and ask you not to eat them because I'm pretty poor as it turns out, funny how then your feelings are hurt. Interesting how my independence seems to threaten you. Maybe it's because I'm leaving, and you'll be alone again, something you remind me of frequently. Maybe it's because I'm going somewhere you've always wanted to go. I don't know the reason, but I gotta tell you, it's pretty damn selfish to put that on your kid. It's not my fault for growing up, and it's not my fault for being taught to be true to myself.

The worst of it all is that you believe you did the right thing. You believe you did nothing wrong, that I'm too sensitive and that because you're my father you had the right to say everything you did to me. I couldn't possibly bring all of this up again without being labeled as immature for not letting it go, too sensitive, or unappreciative. And I know I'll never change your mind. Really, I don't want to. However, a real honest apology would be nice. But I know I won't get that either. And that is the sad part. To realize that no matter what happens, you won't see this as a monumental shift in our relationship. I have to live with the words you said, knowing you see no fault in them, knowing you believe them to some degree, but that you have no remorse for hurting my feelings.

So there it is, the words I'll never get to say. It's a really sad moment when you see your parents from the outside and they are not who you always believed they were. I had that moment with my mom almost four years ago, and I've had it now with my dad a week ago. I hope some day I can be strong enough to move past this feeling, but right now I am still hurting, I am still upset, and I still have to pretend to be fine.

Tea and Muffins

Thank God for Morgan Street Cafe.

No, really. Not that I was walking around shady Chicago or fearing for my safety, but if I had to walk past one more cafe or walk inside and buy a "courtesy drink" only to not find a seat, I was probably gonna call it a lost cause. That, or walk back to Target.

Some backstory: I'm in Chicago this weekend with Alyssa while she goes through the audition process for the character performer role. This morning is the audition, so after dropping her off at the door to the Hubbard Dance Studio, I went on a search to find a coffee shop where I could post up and write a little. I thought I might order a tea, find a cozy spot and write about how much of a hipster I am.

Yeah, right.

I ended up walking a large square down Racine, right on Madison, back down Morgan until I found this cafe. Across one street and to the right down West Jackson and I'll be back where I started, but I'm not all that bitter, I promise. I had to walk through three shops and order two drinks that I didn't take more than 2 sips of (that's about $10 wasted) to find this little cafe on the corner of Morgan and Adams. I'm sitting at the bar by the window while I write, the community corkboard to my left. Flyers for music shows, quality dog walking, and various businesses cover the walls. Behind me is the counter and kitchen with two large boards covered in the menu. I ordered a Twinning's tea and a lemon poppy seed muffin, but I might have to stick around and order lunch too because a quesadilla sounds really good!

I few minutes ago I had a police officer and a contractor sitting next to me, having a conversation with one another about Chicago and how glad they are to be able to serve the city they love. It was pleasant to overhear a conversation between two men of different races agreeing on the state of their city and how proud they were to be here- something that seems to happen rarely these days. I felt honored to sit next to them and overhear an exchange that restored my faith in my fellow man.

I'm in West Loop this afternoon, a place that is fairly wealthy and reminds me of the East Village. Young population, expensive shops, hipster vibe. Yet in the middle of it all, I have found a place to sit and relax and call my afternoon home. So thank you Morgan Street Cafe! You saved me from lugging my computer all over creation, and you supplied me with a healthy dose of humanity. I'm not even from this city and I'm proud of it too.

Winter Grass

I told Steve today.

It was harder than I had imagined it would be. Talking to MacKenzie convinced me that I needed to tell him before he heard it from someone else. After the time spent together, it would have been far worse to hear it through gossip than by my own mouth.

So I told him, after not hearing from in a month, which was hard too, but something I had come to be okay with as part of the process. I din't hardly expect to hear from him at all, and when he did reply I was surprised, struck by how distant it was. I'm reading too much into it, after all I did deliver some not-so-savory news.

The hardest part for me had always been the loss of a friend. Not only did someone get hurt, but a connection was lost. Mario and I prove that after time, exes can be cordial and friendly and exist within the same circles, but it's not like we go out of the way to talk to one another. We once were part of each other's lives, and that time has passed. Noah will likely be one that I don't see or speak to again, and perhaps that hurts worse than the rest because how can you go from something so great to nothing at all?

Time will tell if Steve and I can exist in the same circles. We have some of the same friends, we will soon work for the same company once again, it's not as if it will be impossible to hear our names or of our comings and goings.

The text and the reply brought everything back to the surface, after this silent month of moving forward and hoping for the best, I hear from him. He wasn't just a figment of my imagination, but someone who is real and exists not only in a world I once knew, but in a world that I live in too.

I am sad. Sad for the lost moments, for the forgotten friends. Sad for the ending.

You're Welcome

Lately the loneliness has been creeping back in, and it's been hard to pinpoint and tackle. It's not the depression this time though, because that battle has been won for the time being- I found Hamilton, I found Moana, I'm going home.

This is the loneliness that comes from the lack of being loved and cared for. I'm not talking about friends, because I know I have found them in spades. Im talking about the deep romantic, all consuming, life changing love that fills your heart. I've had that exactly once, and I am longing for it now. I miss knowing someone is out there pulling for me, I miss thinking about someone and hoping their day is going well. I miss checking in, hanging out, being together.

And because I've had this all-consuming love just once, I have but one relationship to reflect on, but that's not fair to me, because I can glamorize the memories all I want but it doesn't change the truth. I can remember the good times and black out the bad, I can pretend he didn't say the things he did, I can imagine a timeline in which we were perfectly happy forever, but that doesn't change that he lied and destroyed me. It was bad. It may have been good once, at the beginning, the very start, but it wasn't good at the end. I don't necessarily miss him, but I miss what we were and how I felt. I miss stargazing, laying in bed on Sunday morning listening to the birds, cooking meals, talking about our projects.

It was all so easy, effortless.

I think I could have had it a second time. I think I was close, within reach. And, but I had to go home to move my life along and the 1300 miles took its toll. I fought against it so hard but in the end I was the one who withdrew this time.

That's all I want- easy, effortless, comfortable. It felt so right to just be near Noah, and sometimes it would be very nice to have a partner. A shoulder to lean on that was always on my side, another human who was always physically there, someone to help share the load. This isn't about friendship, this is about companionship and being scared of being alone in this life. I like my independence, but I'm willing to share.

It was hard to let him go because he was everything I needed then, until he wasn't. I can romanticize it, but I shouldn't, because it wouldn't be true. I want to be held, I want to be put at ease, and I wish I could turn this off because it's damn distracting.

May We All

Nine days ago I received and accepted a position with the Walt Disney Company for a second program in the College Program, and I have been riding the high that came with the email since then! Since I returned to Iowa in August, I have been homesick for the place that taught me about happiness and real magic, about bravery and adventure. It's hard to believe that after the heartbreak and uncertainty, I really get to go back.

In the last six months, I have applied and been denied for the Spring Program, a set-back that felt like a personal failure. I have experienced heartache at the loss of someone I cared for greatly, and the future of our relationship is yet uncertain. I have applied for (and received) but had to turn down a part-time position with the very same company I have missed desperately, realizing that not everything can be forced. I have made things for difficult for myself, I have learned some hard lessons, and I have been granted the privilege of my life to go back to where I feel I need to be.

Some will say that I am not doing the right thing, that I need to buckle down and finish my time here at school. To those people, I ask if you have ever followed your heart or your gut to somewhere unexpected? I don't mean this in a rude or condescending way, but rather from a truly curious human to another. Have you never felt a longing for a place or a season of life or even a person, something so undeniable that makes you wonder if you really should drop everything and go? Have you ever stopped your life to follow that feeling? Maybe if you haven't followed that feeling, or if you haven't experienced it, then you cannot relate to where I am, and maybe the temptation will be to pass it off on my youth and inexperience. Yes, I am 23. I am young, wild, kind of flighty, and fighting for my independence, but I have learned and I know beyond a doubt that things have a way of working out the way they are supposed to. I am following a feeling that is telling me to push onward and chase this dream. Maybe I'll arrive and realize it was all a mirage, that my last program was as perfect as it will ever be, and I can return home in January having not lost anything. Maybe I'll realize I have made a huge mistake and self-term and come home early. Maybe it will take me 5-7 years before I finish my degree because I'm sick of making magic with Disney. Just maybe, I will find my happiness and my purpose at a company that brings joy to every life it touches. I cannot see the future, but I can listen to the Universe and I can follow my heart and trust that everything that happens will happen in its own perfect timing, for a set purpose.

However, I have been so caught up in getting away from here and getting there, that I have forgotten the things I will be leaving behind when I go. I never expected to miss HyVee, but the other night at work, I told one of my managers about leaving and he made a comment about how everyone likes me there. It suddenly hit me that the people I was so nervous to get to know will be people that I genuinely am sad to leave behind. Sitting here at Smokey Row this evening I realized that I will be leaving my writing space and my favorite tea behind as well (I'm making a mental note to find a cafe ASAP upon arrival).

While this place is my home, Disney is where my heart resides. I have never felt a pull quite as strong as the one that is guiding me back there, and I intend to follow this string until the end of the line. My only hope is that I will find contentment in my journey. That I can continue to give my worries and trepidation to the Universe and trust in the greater powers that be. This second chance is sure to be meaningful and full of synchronicities, overflowing with lessons and memories made, and I just want to be able to take it all in and appreciate every moment- high, low, and in-between.

So here's to Walt, to his dream and mine, to the future, and to magic!

Yeah, you learn to fly and if you can't then you just free-fall. May we all...