Failing

So, I started this blog over a year ago during the summer going into my junior year of college.  While I thought I would post on it regularly when I returned to school that fall, the exact opposite happened.  I loved what I was posting and was happy to share my thoughts with friends, but the dynamic of the blog changed when I returned to school.  I birthed this blog because I was unsure about life and the path that was correct for me, like many of you reading this.  Then it turned into me sharing my random thoughts and ways of dealing with boys.  However, the time spent writing these previous posts was executed in the safety of my room at home- the only people that were around to judge me were my parents, who obviously would throw me a 'like' no matter what. 

With that being said, I cannot tell you how many times I have attempted to write out the experiences that have happened to me since.  But every time I tried, I never posted anything because I realized the stories and people I wanted to talk about would probably show up in front of my face at some point within the next week.  And you can bet they would know that I was talking about them in my post.  So, you see my pickle.  What's changed is that now I'm starting to care less and less about what people think.  This chapter of my life is closing, and a few months from now some of our biggest issues will be so minute in hindsight.  

Right now I write to you in an even scarier state of life than I was in when my first post was published (scroll all the way down if you want to start from the beginning). If you had asked me a year and a half ago where I thought I would be now, I would have assumed my shit would be together.  Nope.  My shit is scattered so far apart all the pooper scoopers in the world could not get it together.  What's crazy though, is that people don't think of me this way.  I will admit I have many random talents, but number one right now has got to be hiding what I'm actually feeling, and pushing aside the issues I know I should be pushing to the forefront. 

Last week I had the pleasure of hearing Brandon Stanton speak at the University of Florida.  Brandon is the founder of Humans of New York, a blog in which many of you are avid followers.  He spoke on many topics, but what I took away from his speech was this: in order to get what you want, you must become really good at failing. 

Well, I am terrified of failing.  So there's that.  I know I need to get over it, but it's hard to accept that before you reach the point of self satisfaction, you are required to fail umpteen times.  Que the tears.  My journey of failing has just begun, and I know that I have a long road ahead.  So here's to falling on my face and to hoping that one day my failures won't be failures anymore. 

hmm, maybe not?

About three weeks have passed since I posted my first blog entry.  If you are joining this party for the first time then you can scroll down and catch up, or you can just trust me when I tell you I was in a weird place.  I'm still in a weird place, but I have somewhat come to terms with it.

Three weeks ago my life was overpowering me.  I felt like the bubbles that boil over in the pot when you're making mac n' cheese but you forget to stir the noodles for a while.  I let too many things build up at once, and eventually, they all started to boil over.  After crying it out, I think I have finally stirred my life together in some sense, enough to simmer down my feelings and start thinking about the next steps.  You know, adding the butter, milk and packet of powdered cheese.  Mmmmmm. 

While there have been many a topic on my mind recently, today sparked a new thought. Before we get into it, I need to introduce you to Martin Matak, aka Party Marty.  Party Marty is a family friend, my boss and lately, my therapist.  He has had a front row ticket to all of my freak out performances this summer, so he really knows what's up.  He's also going to be super pumped about this shout out when I walk into the office tomorrow.  

I never really know when a life lesson with Party Marty is going to happen, but somehow they always find a way of sneaking into our work day.  Today's therapy session was next to the printer.  Party Marty began asking me questions that I thought I knew the answers to. They were questions I have answered the same way for years and felt very confident in. But, like the pro that he is, Party Marty had me thinking maybe not? 

Question number one was, do you care what other people think of you?  As much as I wanted to say no, I had to say yes.  I don't mean this in the sense of making a stupid snapchat story or acting like a crazy person in a crowd of people- with those type of things I have absolutely no shame.  I mean it in a bigger sense- like the school I attend, the job I have, how I spend my summers...you get my point.  I would be lying if I said I walk around everyday without thinking about how people place me on their scorecard of life.  My best friend calls me a people pleaser, which I do not deny.  

Question number two was, are you confident in yourself?  Immediately, I answered yes.  To my surprise, Marty told me I was not.  He said that if I was confident in myslef, I wouldn't care about what other people thought of me in any sense.  I have always felt that confidence was one of my strongest attributes.  However, I realized today that confidence has taken on a new meaning in my life.  It is no longer just the feeling of being ok with you are, or the ability to stand in front of a group of people and talk.  Now, at this stage of my life, confidence is so much more.  It's being able to chase after what you actually want to pursue. It is understanding that nothing from this point on is going to be easy.  It is facing life knowing that the only way you are going to get what you want is if you got for it.  More and more I am realizing that nothing just happens.  Everyone that I aspire to be like has done scary things.  Yes, I am very scared of scary things.  But I have to do them.  

So I guess at this point I have to say my confidence levels are a little low.  I definitely don't have the balls to say exactly what I want.  And I don't think I'm at the point where I'm ready to drop everything to find out exactly what that is.  I still have time.  Maybe, DEAR GOD HOPEFULLY, by the time I graduate college I will have all the confidence necessary to face life in the way that I know I am capable of.  I know there will be a lot of mac n' cheese eaten in the time between.  And I probably mean the instant kind- ain't nobody got time in college to wait for a pot full of water to start boiling.  

Let's talk numbers

I've always hated numbers, in the sense that math was just never my thing.  But recently, the numbers in my life have taken on a new and more prevalent role.  A role that freaks me the freak out.

When I think about it, there are everyday numbers and then there are numbers that come with different stages of your life.  Some examples of my everyday numbers:

• How many pimples do I have on my face today?
• How many cups of coffee am I going to drink before I start doing something productive?
• How many episodes of Scandal am I going to watch on Netflix tonight?

Those are all fine and dandy.  They are numbers I think about everyday, but they never stray beyond the day at hand.  When I have to think about the number of pimples on my chin (that's where those little shits always show up on me), at least there is hope that tomorrow will be different, and hopefully, better.  

Now that I'm half way done with college and have officially entered my freak out stage of life,  there are scary numbers starting to jump out at me.  Some examples of my scary numbers:

• The amount of time I have left until I'm a "real person"
• My age
• The number of jobs/experiences I will have until I find my ~*true passions*~ in life

Let's talk about the age example, because that's really what inspired this post in the first place.  I know that being 20 is not old, and that is not what I'm claiming.  I'm claiming that turning 20 forced me into a stage that I am very unsure about.  Pretty soon, I won't have the luxury of asking my parents to spot me 40 bucks.  I won't be able to lock myself in my room and dream that I'm dating Jim Halpert from The Office all day long.  And I definitely won't be able to dance in front of my bathroom mirror for hours at a time listening to the glorious sounds of the the new Ed Sheeran album.  

Being 20 has also forced me to realize that I live in the "grown up" world now.  I can no longer pretend that my life is like High School Muscial, even though I will carry on that dream for the rest of my life.  The following story is probably not something my mom should read even though I know she will.  #YOLO.  This past semester I met this guy as I was walking out of a bar.  My BAC level was definitely higher than my usual level of fun. Anyway, we started talking but eventually went our separate ways.  The next morning all I could remember was that we met, we talked and that he kissed me goodnight.  A pop kiss, nothing fancy.  But I could not remember for the life of me anything we discussed or shared with each other.  I guess I gave him my number since there was a text from him on my phone.  

This kid was persistent. He was determined to take me out.  It made me nervous because I literally knew nothing about him.  After asking around I found out he was 26-years-old.  In my head I was like HOLD UP, that ain't right.  That's so much older than me, I could never go out with him.  But then I realized, no, it's not that much older than me.  A 20-year-old dating a 26-year-old would not be an uncommon occurrence.  Then freak out mode hit me again when I realized I have reached that stage of my life- the stage where I'm supposed to date 26-year-olds every chance I get.  Dang.  Didn't see that one coming.  

So, whether I'm talking about age or the amount of time I have left until I'm a real person, I know that numbers will always be there.  I hope I can live the rest of my life without worrying too much about them.  They may bring on some tears at some points, but that's probably good for me.  

Boyfriend girls

I probably see my grandpa once or twice a month when I'm home.  He does not have any sort of memory loss, in fact, he remembers everything with a little too much clarity.  So when the first thing that comes out of his mouth every time he sees me is, "any boyfriends, Callie?" you would think he would remember that the answer is NO.

I've never been in love.  Sure, I've "dated" some people (if I'm even allowed to use that term in our generation), but never been in love.  I'm not sure if this is normal or not for a 20-year-old, I don't really care either way.  But I think the question that lingers in my grandpa's mind, and probably my parents', is why have I never had a real boyfriend?

If we're being honest here, I've only truly liked two people in my entire life.  If either of you two are reading this, you definitely know who you are.  Anyways, when I think back on those "relationships," and really any other interactions I've had with guys in general, I realize that I am just not a boyfriend girl.

Definition of boyfriend girl: girls that thrive off of the feeling of having a boyfriend, girls that always have a boyfriend- you know, the ones that break up with someone and are in a new relationship the next week, and girls that act like life has no meaning without someone to text every single second of every single day.

I'm not saying there is anything wrong with being a boyfriend girl- my best friend in the entire world is a professional when it comes to having a boyfriend.  I'm just saying none of the above describe me in any way, nor do I really want any of those sentences to embody me.  Don't get me wrong, I love the feeling I get when I like someone and maybe they like me too, but I'm not freaking out about how long it will be until I have a ~real~ boyfriend.

If I may borrow a few words from my girls in Destiny's Child, "All the women who independent, throw your hands up at me."  Doing things alone isn't something that I hate. Moreover, there hasn't really been a point in my life that I needed someone to make me happy.  Maybe that's because I haven't met that person yet, or maybe it's just the way I was raised.  I'm not sure.  What I do know is that I am a person with a lot of patience.  If I'm a late bloomer in the relationship phase of life, that is more than ok with me.

Something else I often think about, especially living in a college town, is that I am so over boys acting like my sixteen-year-old brother.  C'mon universe, can't you feed me a real man? Sometimes I'm confused because I look around and all the guys I know are in relationships with girls that bask in the world of drama.  They go out together at night, get drunk after a couple of hours, and all of a sudden the girl starts a raging fight with them in the middle of the bar over NOTHING.  No girls, I'm not saying every one of you is like this, I'm just saying there are a good amount of us that claim to live drama free, when in reality drama is like your favorite thing in the whole world.

My point here is that I will NEVER be the girl yelling at her boyfriend in the middle of the bar.  I'm so laid back that a lot of guys would probably get bored with how easy going I am. My senior year of high school a boy that I really liked and was spending a lot of time with told me he kissed his ex-girlfriend and wanted to get back together with her.  He told me this in front of his best friend's house while the rest of our friends were inside.  You want to know my response - "It's ok, I understand."  All my friends asked me why I was so nice to him in the middle of a pretty messed up situation.  I don't really get it either, but I think it's because I have the mindset that, if a boy doesn't like me, then he doesn't like me.  That's it. I'm not going to go all crazy girl on him and cause a whole scene.  I'm not going to send him paragraphs worth of text messages about how much of an ass he is.  He clearly wasn't in to me if he was kissing someone else, so why should I waste energy on someone that doesn't respect me either way?  Sure, I'm going to be upset about the whole thing, but I can move forward on my own.

All that being said, I know everything I just claimed could end up biting me in the ass if and when I do fall in love.  I've heard that love makes people do crazy things.  Maybe even as crazy as becoming a boyfriend girl.  Until then, I will be the cynical and single bystander.

So maybe I haven't cried in college about a boy yet, but who really wants to cry over a boy anyway?

I'm a mess

In the words of my dance teacher, my current life situation is a "hot mess."  Not saying that I'm hating the fact that it's 1 pm, I'm still in my pjs and only have two episodes left of Orange is the New Black, but I am saying that I probably shouldn't be doing any of these things in the middle of a Monday.

Here's what happened: I messed up.  I'm not going to get into the gory details because it's not THAT exciting, but enough happened for me to turn around and say, "yeah, I probably shouldn't have done that."  Enough happened for me to start this blog and actually put my thoughts into words.

While I've spent the last week basically holed up in my room, I can't help but think about life and what I'm supposed to do for the rest of mine.  I don't mean this in any sort of depressed way, I mean it in a way that I want to enjoy my time and not wake up every morning hating my job.  How am I supposed to get to my happy place?

What's especially hard for me is the fact that I feel like people around me (hi Mom and Dad) have certain ideas in their head of what I'm supposed to do or be.  For some people it's easy to say this is what I want, now I'm going to pursue it.  Not me.  If there is anything I'm afraid of, it's not living up to people's expectations.  For some reason, I have this ridiculous notion in my head that the things I might possibly want to pursue are not good enough.

Which brings to me to my main point...I'm 20-years-old and I've never cried more in my life. I'm not a cry baby, nor have I ever been categorized in that group of girls in my entire existence, but I am currently an emotional mess.  To be honest, I still haven't pinpointed exactly why. I do know that life is coming at me pretty fast and that definitely has something to do with it.

As of April, I've exited my teens and officially entered adulthood.  What's funny is that adulthood has brought me more confusion and uncertainty than I've ever experienced.  I'm about to enter my junior year of college and I have no idea what I'm doing.

While I know that I am not the only person going through this life crisis, I do feel as though I need to be more on top of my life.  Hopefully this will come with time.  I'm just anxious, what can I say? Until then, crying in college is just going to have to be ok.