...for the Anticipator

You know that feeling you get when you walk out of the house, lock the door behind you, and step into your car only to feel like something is missing?

Or what about when you're putting an outfit together and the only thing missing is your favorite ring you seemed to have misplaced?

Possibly even that moment when you're eating your favorite meal but something just seems different? Like no matter how much salt you add or how differently you cut whatever is on your plate, it just doesn't taste the way you know it to be?

That's how I could describe my everyday emotions right now.

I check my purse and pockets for missing keys, but they're still there.

I search high and low, behind my bed and under my dresser for my ring but I know it's gone, having slipped off my finger sometime during the hustle and bustle of my busy day.

I keep eating that meal, telling myself just one more bite until it tastes the same again, but sure enough I reach the end and all that's left is an empty plate that held a mediocre meal.

The absence of people I love feels similar to that. The absence of my friends away at school is hard, but easy to handle because I know the exact date and the exact time I will see them again. But the absence of a friend I may share a rocky relationship with is practically unbearable. I can't predict the time I will see them again or their arrival back into my life. It is all up in the air and it seems as though nothing can bring it back down to where I stand. I feel like something is missing and over the past few days it didn't quite hit me just how bare I felt until today. I have been walking around on autopilot racking my brain for reasons why I feel this way; Did I forget to turn in an assignment?; Am I missing an appointment? Nothing added up and as much as I pushed it further and further to the back of my mind, the answer found its way to the front of my thoughts.

What I was missing was a familiar face.

I was missing a weekly text message conversation about our weeks.

I was missing adventures and study sessions.

I was missing something so familiar to me, something so routine that it took a while to realize the impact it really had in my life.

I am eagerly anticipating the arrival of my friends away at school. I cannot wait to ninja jump/bear hug them with so much excitement and built up love to share. I cannot wait to hear about their new friends and lives and all that they have experienced. I cannot wait to just sit around and do nothing with them because the presence of them alone is enough to make my day.

I am anxiously anticipating the next step I must take in bettering the current state of a missed and loved friendship. I am scared to delve into recent moments and figure out exactly what went awry. It makes me nervous to think of what words need to be exchanged and it makes my heart heavy when I think of how many hugs I have to catch up on.

I hope I am alone in the latter of my current anticipations, but I know there are too many of us to all be content at the same exact time. For those of us who are left with an empty plate and are racking our brains for the missing ingredient, I hope we can all change that anxiety to excitement.

So those of you experiencing an absence in your life, whether it be a friendship, guidance, or even just answers, I challenge you today.

I challenge you to find those thoughts ruminating in the back of your mind and pull them to the front of the line.

I challenge you to delve deeper into this absence filling your days and turn a mediocre meal into a delicious entree.

...for the Story Tellers

There are a significant amount of things in my life that I don't have full control over and they all became apparent to me today.

Power walking is a regular pace I take while passing through Bloomingdales simply because I can't afford a large portion of the store, so why peruse when it only teases me? Speeding towards the escalator to find the jeans section to finally spend my graduation money, I was taken back by how suddenly my body jolted into a halt in front of the David Yurman counter as my eyes landed on the beautifully crafted rings on display. I was asked if I wanted to try one on and without protest, I let out a faint yes. As I slipped the ring onto my finger it occurred to me in that moment that I wanted to be able to browse through Bloomingdales. No longer do I wish to walk into the store with a pre-planned agenda or a B-line past the glass boxes that encase the artwork most would call over priced jewelry. But the current state in which I am living in as a full time student with two less-than-part-time jobs, those luxuries are ones that I cannot attain at the moment. I know that I do not have control over my current "spending" financial state, partially due to my lack of ability to properly save, and that sacrifices must be made in order to get to a place in life where nice things are purchasable and living debt-free, stress-free, and below my means is only a chapter in my life that has been read and left behind to continue reading the rest of the novel.

Yet, in those dog-eared pages with creases, coffee stains and highlighted words, I find more uncontrollable short stories. I find not only trips to Bloomingdales, but paragraph after paragraph of car issues detailing broken headlights, rust colored radiator stains outlining the parking space of 24 hour fitness and accounts of being stranded in one city too many.

Then I come to the water-stained pages worn thin and familiar, almost in memory because they have been visited so frequently. Those pages are filled with heart break and regret, loss and heart ache, trickled ever so sparsely with smiles and embraces, long talks and perfect moments of silence.I know that just in the way I do not have full control over being able to purchase a $900 ring, I do not have control over the present-day decisions made by past crushes, lovers, likers, you name it. We have all been there. We are writing our story with someone and then one day, something changes. Some people fall out of love while others are forced out of it. People move on, move away, move past the past and onto the future and while only some will admit to it, we all can agree that erasing that person from your next chapter is easier than erasing them from your rough drafts. No matter how big of an absence that character makes, your mind will always add in a few extra "what if" sentences.

What if that conversation never happened.

What if that fight never occurred.

What if we pushed through rather than pulled away.

What if, what if, what if.

And they consume you, making you realize that you have no control over who they want to date or pursue because they are the authors of the next chapter in their book, not you.

Although I may not have control over my financial state; being able to splurge on lavish items or purchase a reliable car, or even have control over the relationships around me, I always have control over how I can change the world. Whether people say I do or do not. Today I realized that there were many things out of my control that I would just have to settle for. With that though, I remember that I never have to settle with the current state of our world. I never have to look across the room and see a room full of people who are going to remain stagnant. I have not only the ability but the calling to change the world and if I can't control almost everything else in my life, you can bet that I will have control over this.

We as a community of people are constantly faced with challenges and opposition and although they take the face of barriers, they are here to act as pieces of a better story. See, without conflict, we would all be writing cut and paste picture books instead of the timeless masterpieces we are intended to craft. Conflict surrounds us daily. In our homes, schools, workplaces. Citywide, nationwide, and globally. I see the conflict arise around me and see that something must be written in order to stop the enemy from winning.

So, I challenge you today. Push aside the uncontrollable short stories and turn the page to start reading about the conflict you have the ability to beat.

As an 18 year old girl with untamed curls, a broken down car, and a bank account that hold nothing close to a David Yurman purchase, I am confident in the fact that I am in control. I will change the world one chapter at a time and will not stop until darkness can no longer be found. I will be the light to shine in the fluorescent-lit Walmarts filling suburbia where any other light is suppressed. I will be the light to shine along side the sun beating down across playgrounds, quads, hallways and classrooms. I will be the light to shine where darkness is the only thing people know. Where will you be a light? Where will you change the world?

Don't ever tell yourself you cannot make a change, because amidst uncontrollable situations, we always have the potential to control our impact on the world.

...for the Stagnant

I started my first week of classes this past Monday, and while I would love to say I was going through the hustle and bustle of finding those classes spread out far and wide around campus, I was merely down the road at IVC.

Nearly all of my friends have left for college and I really thought I was fine until I logged onto Facebook. Status after status and wall post after wall post about new roommates, freshman year activities and new faces they see each day have left me feeling alone and stagnant.

Unlike my friends who get to experience the excitement of moving out and onto a whole new journey, I've continued living at home, bumping into the familiar faces of high school.

Don't get me wrong, I am so excited for all that my friends get to experience, and although I know this stay at IVC was the best for me right now, I can't help but feeling like this isn't where I should be.

I always thought my freshman year would be spent at a University and that going to Bed Bath and Beyond would be a given. I never expected to spend a year at a community college before heading off on my own. I never expected to be the one friend that stayed behind, watching as everyone else started new. I always told myself IVC wasn't for me. I always told myself I wouldn't let that happen.

I walked into my first class on the first day of school and rather than saying to myself, "this is going to be a great year", I said "there is no way I can stay here for two years"

I hate it. Honestly, I hate this. This situation I've chosen for myself and placed myself in, thinking this is what I wanted. Deep down, I knew I never wanted this but I told myself I did; financially, spiritually, allowing me to get further involved with things here in Irvine. I am already starting to see the positives of me staying here:

a beautiful group of 7th grade girls to lead at church

running Ignite a second year in a row

new internships taking flight

But most days, the negatives heavily outweigh the positives in my life. The thoughts of missing out and being left behind consume my mind and take me through this daily process of self-loathing.

I feel stupid. I feel stagnant. I feel useless.

I just want to be able to do everything else it seems like every other person is doing. I want to have a roommate and decorate my dorm room. I want to go to orientation and sit through droning seminars about "college safety" and the school's standards. I want to eat bad dorm food, rush a sorority, put all of my toiletries in a bucket. I want to have a week full of ice breakers and new student games. I want to be apart of something bigger than simply going to class. I want to be apart of a group of people who want to be where they are and are in the same exact boat as I am.

I know that staying here has presented opportunity after opportunity for ways to be involved and truly make an impact.

But, as much as I may know this, I still want to be upset. Just for a little bit longer.

I haven't been able to fully let go and realize that this year simply isn't going to go as planned.

I know that someday I will, but today doesn't seem to be that day.

I wish I had words of encouragement for myself, but today doesn't seem to be that day either.

...for the shocked

Being gone for the past week on a trip with junior high ministry, I decided I was tired of my sour patch kids and packaged food diet and made the wise and proud decision to head to the gym.

Arriving excited and ready to get back into the swing of my usual routine, I wasn't expecting to leave with tears welling up in my eyes.

After my successfully tiring cardio workout, I made the next stop on my list to the sauna before I started on weights and such. I had been sitting in a sweaty awkward silence for about 10 minutes or so when suddenly the guy next to me had an outburst. See, there were four of us occupying this tiny space. Myself, two younger guys in their 20's and a man I'd say not much older than the other two who was coughing excessively. He was on my left while the whack job was on my right. I feel like it's only necessary to tell you that the innocent man to the left of me smelled of lavender while the predator on my right was soaking wet and had a very distracting tattoo that covered the entirety of his back.

Back to the story:

It was obvious that this man's coughing was a bit loud and contagious, but rather than politely asking him to cover his mouth or even step outside for a minute to clear his throat, the guy next to me flung curse word after curse word at this guy. I heard his piercing voice through my earphones and quickly turned my music off. I was shocked; So taken back by this man's vulgar approach. He even had the audacity to ask the rest of us if we agreed with him, implying he was right. All I could utter from my mouth was, "well, that was really rude of you to do." He proceeded to curse and tried getting the guy to step outside and fight him. I got up from my seat and opened the door and right as I did, I heard the words, "and my god, look how big your nose is, seriously." It was coming to a point where an attack was happening. I stopped dead in my tracks and contemplated turning around to lash out. But all I could do was turn around, glare, and keep walking.

Why are people so rude? Especially to people they don't even know.

I wish I could have said something, mustered up the courage to do more and defend this man who was being so harshly verbally attacked.

But I didn't, instead of stepping in, I stepped aside.

I left the situation alone and allowed this tattooed, insecure, inconsiderate man get away with nothing but a few weak words and a cold glare.

I don't understand what makes people think they have the right to treat someone so poorly. It's something that has always plagued my thoughts and really rests heavy on my heart. I don't get it, so if someone could explain it to me I would love to hear the explanation. As individuals, we have a choice. We have a choice to interact with those around us or continue on our path as if we were the only ones present. Given the opportunity to meet new people or cross paths with someone I've never met before, the first and only thought I have is to be considerate. Maybe it's how I was raised, or maybe it's being a decent person, but no one ever deserves to be talked to the way this man was approached today. It stung me, and I wasn't even the one being talked to.

I wish more people would realize that the only approach should be through love.

So, what will you do? Continue on your path, cold and downcast, shying away from new relationships, or will you lift your head high, and meet everyone new with a smile and an open heart.

...for the long gone but close at heart

Saying goodbye sucks.

So I usually avoid it.

Saying goodbye sucks and although I would love to avoid it, it's inevitable and sometimes I just have to pony up and do it.

It seems as though these past few weeks have been filled with nothing but goodbyes and quite frankly, I want a new change of pace. Going house to house, a picture frame or card in hand, readying myself mentally for all of the nostalgia we will go through, the memories we will reminisce about, and the holiday breaks we will be sure to visit each other on has become repetitive and robotic. Not to mention the weekly heytell or texting updates and frequented yet most likely dwindling Skype conversations that we plan out right before the final hug.

Last week my goodbyes were reserved for the long time friends I have grown up with all throughout high school and for some, even elementary school. Those have been some of the hardest, but the ones yet to come are going to be the worst: the best friends.

After a great going away party last night, the host of the night pointed out to me that he had to leave his best friends behind that day; that for him, that was the last night he could say goodbye.

And it hit me.

I didn't realize that I would ever have to really say goodbye to my best friends. Scattered all around California, I am lucky enough to say that my closest friends are in an inconveniently enough driving distance away from me, but for them, it's all the convenience I need. Then there's Maddy. 3,006 miles away from me in Providence, Rhode Island, I can't hop into my car whenever I feel like getting away for the weekend. No, she decided to intentionally place herself as far away from me as possible. Kudos to my other best friends, but for her, I have decided to hold a grudge.

Needless to say, saying goodbye to the people I know best is going to be a moment I am dreading to experience.

But then, camp happened.

Right when I thought I knew everyone I wanted to say goodbye to, I met a whole new set of 12 amazing people.

For those of you who have never experienced a church camp, being a leader for a retreat, or any other leadership experience involving bonding with strangers, you may not fully appreciate the impact that these short-term best friends make on your life.

Saying goodbye to best friends is probably the worst goodbye I will have to ever face, but saying goodbye to a group of people who just recently walked into your life and then so quickly walked out is a weird feeling.

I spent about 3 hours a week for 8 weeks straight with a group of strangers and then once camp hit, the 24 hour a day interactions turned these strangers into family.

We ate together, we woke up early and stayed up late together, we made fools of ourselves and observed as others did the same. We had deep conversations during our meal times and gossiped about the events of the night huddled around a small apartment table. Pranks were pulled, hats were worn, and shakas were thrown and all throughout these events, we bonded. We became a group of leaders rather than 13 leaders placed in one room.

We worked together and it was one of the greatest weeks we could have had.

But instead of going back home and picking up where we left off, reality set in and I realized that we don't have the opportunity to do that anymore. Our "camp high" would hit its low right when we departed to our respective cars.

That feeling, that goodbye, sucks.

Saying goodbye to someone when there is still so much time to say hello is weird. It didn't feel fair to me that these relationships were cut short before most of them could fully take flight.

I am excited for all of us. I am excited for the paths we will be taking at our new schools and for the whole new set of strangers we will meet and call our friends. As excited as I am, I didn't expect to be this taken back by how bummed I feel.

I know that if it's worth it, we will stay in touch.

I know that as time passes, it will get harder and harder to do just that.

I know that as weird as those goodbyes may have felt, I have a week full of memories to keep me stoked on those people.

Saying goodbye sucks.

But the people you are saying goodbye to make it totally worth it.

Thanks to my week-long ASB camp family

-let's not become too estranged, ya?

To those of us out there having to say our goodbyes: good friends, acquaintances, best friends and family, or even those people who just came to say hello,

Goodnight and Goodluck.

...for the Believers

Last week I attended my annual visit to Pageant of the Masters. As we were huddled around the "kid table" at Sorrento Grille, Alana proceeded to fill our friends in on the typical events of the night:

walk to the show in uncomfortable heels, look at the art in uncomfortable heels, and protect yourself as best you can from mosquitos all throughout the duration of the entire show.

Not once did she mention that we ever fully engage in the show, so you can imagine how excited our friends were when they realized the next three hours would be spent gaining nothing close to the appreciation of art, but rather a new collection of bug bites.

But to my surprise, this year was different. "Only Make Believe" was the theme and when the show started off featuring Peter Pan, you knew the audience was hooked, or at least I was.

Looking around the crowd I saw people texting, sipping their white wines and chatting all throughout the show and for a moment I was compelled to do the same; until one piece of artwork struck my attention.

Faeries.

A beautiful painting of faeries sprinkling dust over the eyes of sleepy passer-byers in a forest grabbed my attention, not necessarily for the artwork displayed, but rather for the simple words uttered from the narrator's mouth- faery dust.

I immediately thought back to fifth grade. San Fransisco. A day trip my then-married parents took me and Alana on. Through the monotonous tours of Fisherman's Wharf and even in the silent quarrels between my parents, all I could think about was faeries. See, at age 10, it's fairly typical to have grown out of the stage of make-believe. But for Alana and I, it felt as though that was all we had control of. I had my eye set on this slender glass jar filled with fairy dust, completed perfectly with a pink bow. All I remember thinking was all I need is this dust. All I need is this little jar of hope to make all of my wishes come true.

See, it wasn't the fact that I still thought I believed in faeries, or even the fact that my parents bought me the vile of glitter and sequined paper, it was the fact that I had something to believe in.

I put my full trust in this little jar of make believe when my belief in anything else had been taken away.

We so often rely on the simple solution, the quick result, to get us out of any doubts or confusion we are surrounded by.

My faery dust didn't work. I spent the next year engulfed by confusion, relying on even more make believe moments to escape to.

I jumped out of this memory and back into the show to look behind me and see my dad with his wife and Alana with her friend.

It occurred to me that neither of them were thinking about the faery dust I put all of my trust in.

It also occurred to me that through the whole year we spent in confusion, they all had their own viles of make believe to fall back on.

Whether it's faery dust or the Bible, a friend or a hobby, we find outlets to help us cope with the confusion we don't have any control over.

For me, it started out with a small jar of dust. It ended with a community of friends and mentors and left me delving into a book of hope to search for the answers to my confusion. For me, that book worked and always will.

What will it be for you?

Buying a stale jar of faery dust or searching for what you truly believe in?

...for the Enlightened

Are you ever filled with so much emotion and you don't quite understand why?

You think of everything that makes you happy and all you want to do is run in the middle of the street in the pouring rain and cry because everything just feels so perfect?

I felt that just earlier today and I couldn't tell you why or how I felt that way- I just did.

Call it cliche, but as I was watching Glee tonight, my heart melted. I can't sing, I haven't danced for years, and Broadway has never been a dream of mine. But sitting on my couch watching them perform on an empty stage with absolutely no one watching and only their dreams to carry them through the song, I thought back through all of high school.

No matter what point in my life I was stuck in, theatre always found a way to pull me out of it. Acting is my passion and a life lived without a performance wouldn't be one worth living. I just sat there and thought back to my hours of rehearsal and the stress I went through to put on just three nights of performances.

You see, I have this moment. This moment right before I go on stage where I doubt everything that I have worked towards. I scratch my head and my nose in an OCD series only my dad could point out and I read over my lines in my head at least five times. After this, I walk alone to the side of the stage and look out. That view of the blinding lights blurring everything in my line of vision leaves me there with a smile. I feel alone without one ounce of loneliness, like all I need is myself to conquer the world, to conquer the stage.

It is at that moment where my heart breaks and a smile peeks through.

It is at that moment where I remember what makes me happy.

Being alone on an empty stage.

Pulling out my tap shoes and improvising until my feet bleed.

Walking in the snow with my favorite forest green hat on.

Envisioning myself in New York City living a typical 90's rom-com sitting in a loft ordering chinese take-out for me and my eclectic roommate thinking about the boy I met in the laundromat an hour earlier.

Sitting on a bench watching the autumn leaves fall to my feet, strategizing just how I am going to step on all the crunchy ones.

Checking out an old library book.

Talking outside in the summer nights with nothing but a tanktop and shorts on.

These make me feel like everything is okay.

These make me feel like anything is possible and the whole entire day is mine to just live every movie I have ever seen and dreamt of starring in. To live by every soundtrack I have listened to in hopes of living a life characterized by those perfectly selected indie tunes.

When it comes down to it, simplicity makes me happy.

As of right now, my life is a chaotic whirlwind with only a few moments of a calm breeze to balance out my week.

I want my life to be simple again. I want to live in the breeze.

So, what will you do? Peer out from behind the curtains and smile, or will you continue your pattern of memorizing each and every line to make sure you never miss a cue.