for those of us
Strand 1: I hardly ever write here anymore. I would attribute this in large part to the fact that I actually have friends now who I can depend upon—whose ears function much in the same way writing had been for me before. This is not to say writing can’t bring its own form of catharsis.
I wrote here all the time my first year of college, when I was lonely and afraid and hated my school; when I felt deeply insecure and questioned my ability to do anything—socialize, read, write, make friends, be a good person, improve.
Strand 2: It’s my fourth year now, and as I was leaving the library at dusk—when the sky was still a pale blue but the street lamps had already come on—I thought to myself how much i would miss this place next year. How much I would miss devoting all of my energy to learning (what a privilege!), how much I would miss these opportunities to better myself (take on random projects, stop something in the middle of the day to be there for a friend).
Strand 3: This past weekend I participated in my school’s fashion show, spending all of this past week staying up late, sewing, fucking up, seam ripping, sewing again, trying again, chugging coffee, giving myself pep talks. It took so much energy and time and stress for a few minutes of glory. It took so much time and effort and money for the few seconds it took my three models to walk down the runway. And that may sound bitter, but I really mean to sound anything but. Because what that experience taught me is that it’s worth it to channel all your energy into creating, producing, making. The moments of glory and external validation are nothing compared to knowing that you created something—put something into the world that wasn’t there before.
Strand 4: Sometimes we can be unhappy. A lot of the time we can be unhappy. We want to find meaning in places or things that are tenuous. And what I’m trying to say is that I have found that improving little by little every day is more important than any external measure of achievement.
It’s funny how cycles are begun before they are completed: now that I am content to be here it is time for me to leave. I have to figure out what I’m doing with my life. I have to find a job. I have to figure out how the fuck I am going to contribute to society. It will no longer be my job to just learn. This is terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
I suppose this post just functions as a way to remind myself how far I have come, in so many ways. And chances are you have come so far in so many ways as well.
Cheers to us and our achievements, however small they come in whatever myriad ways. Here’s to us.
my life is objectively pretty shitty right now, and yet a small part of myself (dormant at times) continues to feel inspired and excited by the promise of friends and learning and feeling and bettering.
I have moved back to Chicago and already everything is in shambles.
I would like to run away with a small camera and a pair of nice sandals and never look back
i lent janet $40 so she could spend like $180 on shoes and now she doesn’t even WANT THEM and she doesn’t even HAVE MY MONEY YET because it hasn’t gone THROUGH this was the WORST FINANCIAL DECISION EVER how am i a LEGAL ADULT
i do not know much, but i do know i would be nothing without the love of my friends.
"The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on your mother, the ecology, or the president. You realize that you control your own destiny."
Albert Ellis (via fuckyeahhappy)
(Source: , via imamnky)
Keira Knightley on the set of Last Night