Reassurance

The more I sign in here to write, the more I realize how many saved drafts I have in comparison to actual published posts.

So here's my stab at hitting publish on something that should've gone up about 10 months ago...


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Reassurance. Pat on the back. Green light. Thumb's up. Double tap.

Whatever it is, it's something we rely on. And when I say we, I really mean me, but I'm willing to bet I'm not the only one out there in this boat.

I had my yearly review this week (which is still crazy to me to think how fast the last year has gone) but in my review this word came up a few times during the 10 minutes of the review that was allocated to "areas of improvement."

"Amanda has great instincts, but often needs her peers' reassurance to pull the trigger," was just one of the examples of use.

And it got me thinking, how this is a common thread within my life even outside of work. A common thread that if I'm not mistaken, is a common theme in a lot of people in this generation.

The need for reassurance. The desire to know that other people support you and are backing whatever it is you're doing or thinking.

First and foremost, with work I agree. I am someone who is not only afraid to mess up, (and have always been) but I'm someone that relies on someone else giving me a thumbs up before I can commit to a solution 9 times out of 10.

But I'm not here to talk about how I would answer a future interview question of "what's your weakness." I'm more so observing how much reassurance we as a society, as a generation, or whatever, have become dependent on.

I mean think about it. Think about the last photo you uploaded to Instagram and how many times you checked to see how many likes you got. Think about how you purposely staged a picture to post on Facebook because you knew people would react positively to it. Think about the last time you texted your friends in a group chat to get a certain reaction out of them, only to find that nobody responds.

Even when I'm writing my blog as I'm doing right now, I often think about whether or not people will react to it or even read it; whether or not I will get the reassurance that I need in order to keep publishing.

I'd be ignorant if I sat here and blamed social media; if I truly believed that a means of communication on the internet was the sole reason we as a civilization rely so heavily on the reassurance of others. But then I think about it, and I wonder why I feel the way I feel when I check my instagram 50 times to see how many likes I got.

I wonder why I rewrite the same sentence 15 times before I finally move on. I wonder why I can't pull the trigger on something or why I can't be enough reassurance for myself instead of relying on others, and I ultimately draw a blank.

What is it about needing this reassurance? Is it insecurities, or the constant desire for attention in this chaotic and saturated world of social media and noise? Or is it because we as a generation have become so obsessed with ourselves with our 'selfies' and our public-pats-on-the-back that we need this reassurance to know that we're not totally crazy and egotistical? And don't get me wrong, I've posted a fair amount of selfies, so no judgement here.

Wherever it stems from and whatever generational excuse we can blame it on, it's still present. The want and need for someone to sign off on it in whatever arbitrary way shape or form that entails. Why does 75 likes on an Instagram photo make you feel better about yourself than 2?

Or better yet, what does it mean if your two very best friends in the world like your photo, but only those two, and the next photo 100 acquaintances like it, but not your two best friends, then what does that do for reassurance?

Food for thought.

D R A F T

Write. Save. View Preview. Edit. Edit some more. Get frustrated. Pause. Write a little more. Re-Read. Save Draft. Walk away.

That is a pretty accurate sequence of events that happens each time I sit down to write. More times than not, I realize that I forget altogether that I even had drafts saved. Like now for example, I logged on to write a fresh post, and realized I had 7 drafts saved, unpublished. This one seemed fitting to post at the beginning of a new year, or maybe it was just the most "polished" draft I had written.

Either way, time to finally hit "Publish" on one of these.


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10/8/14

Figured I'd start this list now, considering I'm hours away from turning 24, which arguably is considered halfway into your twenties.

I read a list on 'things someone learned in their twenties' on Pinterest once, and it got me thinking I should start one. To be able to put into words all the things I've learned in the past three years (or even past three months) seems almost impossible. But I'm giving it a shot in hopes that 10 years from now they'll still ring true, and then some.

1. You don't owe anybody anything, except yourself.

It is not your duty to justify your decisions to others, to explain things to others, to please others or to be everything to others. You are your priority.

2. Have faith. Always.

Even when the world feels like it's ending and when you are literally about to give up, it is exactly when the power of faith steps in. Faith and patience go hand in hand. Figure out what style of faith helps you learn patience, and all will be right in your world.

3. Adult friendships are hard work.

But if you nurture and take care of them, they can also be the most rewarding. Communication is key.

4. Keep people in your life that you can call your family. And who would treat you as such.

Because nothing feels better than being able to call your friends your family, and mean it.

5. Spend time with yourself. And more importantly, cherish yourself.

It's okay to go to the movies alone or even to a bar alone once in awhile. When you can laugh at yourself and the things you can do on your own, you will be a better person around others, and others will be drawn to your confidence.

6. Speak up.

Probably one of the most important things I've learned, and one of the hardest things to do. When something isn't right, or you believe something should be done, voice it.

7. Cherish your parents.

The sooner you develop a meaningful relationship with them other then depending on them to help you, the happier everyone will be. Small gestures also go a long way.

8. Do what makes you happy and forget about what everyone else thinks.

I can't stress this enough. Whether you date a Spanish guy who lives across the world even though it'll realistically never work out, or you choose to spend all of your money on an overpriced purse, the decision is yours. This is your time to figure out what exactly that thing is that makes you happy, and you don't need to answer to anybody in the process of determining that happiness.

9. Take care of yourself.

Physically, emotionally, and mentally. I once had someone tell me straight to my face, "You have no friends, nobody likes you. If you die tomorrow, nobody will come to your funeral. You are alone in this world and nobody else has your back." It was quite possibly the most horrifying yet humbling thing I've ever heard. If you can't take care of yourself, then who will?

10. Listen to your gut.

Just because someone has more authority, doesn't mean they're always right. You have to listen to your instincts to really know what to believe and who to trust. Not everyone older or above you always has your best interest.

11. Listen to your own advice.

If you're giving someone else advice, you should be able to spin it around and swallow your own words. You'll probably realize that what you would tell someone else is exactly what you need to hear.

12. Don't settle.

Even if you have to kiss a hundred frogs to find your prince, you will still have found your prince. It's important to have standards. And it's important to adhere to them.

I enjoy making lists of things that I've learned and being able to look back at them down the road. It's a nice reminder that at one point I really was absorbing the world around me instead of cruising on autopilot through the hustle bustle of everyday life.

And obviously this is a work-in-progress list. I'm sure many things will be added, and other things possibly tweaked, but it's a start either way. And to be honest, I should have a lot left to add, I'm only 24.


xoxo

Cheers to One Year

I have been thinking about this post for the better part of well, the last year, and now that it’s time to write it, I’m at my keyboard at a bit of a loss.

My “cheers to one year” is not only incredibly cliché, but is incredibly accurate. I moved here one year ago today, and yep you guessed it - my celebration is in reference to both living in LA and to my job, which LinkedIn conveniently reminded me that it’s time to celebrate.

I could sit here and write about what I’ve learned about LA, about myself, about working in this industry, and about how different of a person I am today than I was last May. And it’s not to say that I haven’t learned anything, or that I am the same person, because I’m definitely not. But nobody is after a year (at least I hope not.) And you could probably already guess everything that would be on that list of things I’ve learned. So what fun is reading something that you already know the ending to?

But to honor my one-year “anniversary,” I figured I had to at least write something. So here goes…

We’ll start with the living in LA anniversary, because this milestone technically happened first (by about 36 hours.)

I will say that although it’s only been a year, I feel like it’s worth celebrating. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my family. I tend to overlook the help and support I received by both my parents and my brother and now sister-in-law.

Living in my brother and sister-in-law’s place for $100/month for three months is not exactly sexy. In fact, it’s the opposite. And I almost regret that I even used that word in the same sentence as family members. But ya get the idea. The point is, you do what ya gotta do to make your dreams come true. And those dreams are much easier to achieve when you have the right people there to help you like I did.

But have my dreams come true? In a year?

Every now and then I break down and cry because LA can be so mean, and the people can be so tough. I wonder if it’s really a place that I belong in, and if it’s really worth my time and seriously high income tax. And I’ll never forget when my sister-in-law told me, “L.A. will kick you out if you’re not strong enough to handle it,” and she’s right.

I can’t even say how many times I’ve wanted to give up and move back to the Midwest where people are nice and I have real friends (and good friends at that) and have at least one paycheck’s worth of cash in my account at all times. How many times I’ve realized that I’m not a “SoCal girl,” and I don’t have the b*tchiness to keep up in this cutthroat world. How many times I’ve questioned if advertising is really even for me.

Which brings me to my next point: work. Ironically, on this one-year anniversary of being here, for the first time today I didn’t feel like the new kid anymore. It was another girl’s first day and she now sits directly across from me, which inherently positions me as her go-to for any and all new-kid-on-the-block questions. It feels good to have the answers and even better to retire that new kid feeling, even if it was a year in the making.

Looking back a year ago, am I where I thought I’d be by now? I’m not really sure. But I will say that regardless of where I’m at, I’m thankful that I’m here and thankful that I’m still going strong. More or less.

I think the biggest and greatest feeling after having been here for a year is that I can finally call LA my home. Even with as many moments of wanting to storm out of here with my middle finger in the air and never look back, this is my home and I love it. I love the energy, the weather, (obviously) the history. But above all, I love the challenge. There’s nothing like a giant wall you have to climb to appreciate that view below.

So in my one-year toast to myself, instead of boasting about how “LA didn’t kick me out,” and how “I’m strong enough to hold a job for year…” I’d rather just say thank you in a genuine way and not a “my life is so blessed” kind of way. (Sorry to those that speak like that, but for some reason saying ‘hashtag blessed’ at the end of a tweet just erks me.)

Thank you to those who have listened to me complain and vent about how difficult life can be out here. Thank you to those who have spent money to come and visit me, and more importantly, if you’re still reading this - thanks for coming along for the ride. Like I’ve been saying all along, I am overly-conscious about my writing and sometimes posting my words feels as though I’m running outside naked in front of hundreds of people. But at least now it’s starting to feel like I just forgot pants, and there's only a handful of people. 

So is this all that I cracked it out to be? (This being this post in celebration of my one-year mark) Not at all. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m rambling. But my fingers are tired and my 2:30 feeling is kicking in. (Cue the McDonald’s iced coffee commercial.)

So here’s to making it happen for a whole 365 days now. Here’s to not getting kicked out (yet) and here’s to another year of my California-cation.

Now, where’s the André?

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The Real World...

I know what you’re thinking.

Okay, here she goes with the rant on how difficult the real world is and how this lesson has taught her that and how living in LA must mean she’s better than everyone else in the world because she “did it.” And although I have a tendency to write about my over-comings and my experiences within this so-called “real world,” (especially in LA) what I haven’t been doing is appreciating it. I haven’t been appreciating how awesome this world and this life really is. Even despite all of my “post-grad” grumbles.

I was recently signing a grad card to a good friend of mine who just wrapped up an awesome 4 years at KU. (Who didn’t have an awesome 4 years at KU though?) And one of the things I wrote in the card was, “and just remember, the real world doesn’t have to suck if you don’t let it.”

But really, it doesn’t have to.

We all fall into the pit of “life after college” and there are countless articles and blog posts and tweets about how depressed we all are after such an awesome experience and how sad we all are that “the best four years of our lives are over.” But what you seem to never ever see (and I’m guilty for it as well) is people talking about how much fun they’re having or how awesome life is while it’s happening.

The thing we all seem to forget (or maybe we just don’t know) is how that fun doesn’t have to stop just because a chapter in life ends. Just because something is over, or just because there’s a transition in life doesn’t mean it has to be filled with sadness. It doesn’t mean that it can’t still be fun.

I’m here to say that despite all of my complaining and eye rolling and nostalgia induced tears when looking at graduation pictures over the last couple of weeks, I really do enjoy the real world, and I enjoy it because I’ve made it enjoyable.

Who’s to say that just because college is over and you’re officially in “the real world” that you can’t have fun? That you can’t walk to a gas station by yourself in your pj’s and get ice cream super late at night? Obviously it was a little more fun when that ice cream was McDonalds at 2am and that walk was a car full of friends, but still. There’s still something fun about it.

And having fun doesn’t have to entail doing what you did in college. My idea of fun now is admittedly very different than what I thought was fun even a year ago. I’ll be the first to say I’m not itching for a dance floor come Thursday night, and I don’t necessarily have to go out and get wasted to consider a Friday night a success. (Admittedly, that was once my thought process.)

You just have to realize that you have the power to do what you want with your life. You have the control to be fun, or to not.

Sure, I may not be a social butterfly on the town every weekend and I certainly don’t hit up every Happy Hour nearby, but I still have fun doing other things, and I love what I do for a living. And what could be more fun than that?

Of course I get bored and need adventures every now and then. Of course there are nights that I find myself watching endless amounts of mindless television and think, wow my life is boring I wish my friends were here. But it’s also at those moments of complete boredom that I wake up and think, what am I doing? It’s time to get up and do something with myself, because I can. And because the real world doesn’t have to suck. If you don't let it.

So for all you recent grads and people moving back home and living a life of so-called “post-whatever depression,” get up and get moving. Life is beautiful and it goes by way too fast. I can hardly believe I’ve been out here for a year already.

That being said, there’s no sense in wasting time sitting around and feeling sorry for yourself wishing that you had something that you don’t - like friends, or your college life back, or that you could go abroad again. Of course we all wish that and want that, and 9 times out of 10 we don’t realize what we have until it’s gone, but that’s all the more reason to plan another trip or do something else fun and new and exciting.

And along with that, (apologies for sounding preachy) we should appreciate what we have while we have it. We should write about it and tell the world about how awesome life is, while it’s happening. And if life isn’t awesome enough to write about and brag about, then something needs to change.

Because like I said, the real world doesn’t have to suck if you don’t let it. But the keyword there is you. You are supposed to not let it suck. You are in charge of your own happiness, and only you have the power to do something about it.

So go get ice cream in your jammies or get a drink on a Monday night by yourself, or do whatever it is that makes you happy. (Note: I don’t encourage Monday night trips to the bar by yourself…but I will say that I’ve done it…)

Because doing anything less than what makes you happy is just a waste of time.

J

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Writing to Write

It all started in the fourth grade.

I don't remember what it was or what it was for, but I remember turning in some sort of "paper" on some flimsy workbook with chicken scratches penciled into the pre-made handwriting lines, and my teacher pulling me aside and saying, "you know Amanda, you are a really good writer." And for whatever reason that has stuck in my head as a sliver of confidence every time I've written anything. (Aside from 20-page papers in college about western civilization...I never really felt good about those.)

My point is that I love to write. I've always loved to write. Whether or not I think my work is good or whether or not others think it's good, I've always enjoyed storytelling.

So here I am preaching about how I love to write, yet I'm struggling to post any of my work.

I'm not sure if that sliver of confidence is subsiding, or if I simply care too much about what other people think about my work. Or both. But either way, I haven't been publishing posts nearly as much as I've wanted to.

Which is why this post is me writing to write.

And it's not to say that I don't have stories to tell. Everyone has a story, and everyone has something to say at the end of every day related to whatever it is they're going through. I happen to think I have a lot of things to tell, especially related to post-grad life, yet I keep finding excuses to not write about them and furthermore, to not publish them.

One of the biggest pieces of inspiration comes from other people's writing. I stumble on so many random acquaintances' blogs, and I think wow. They are posting some personal stuff on there, but I can't even muster up the courage to just write whatever is on my mind and share it?

So call this an exercise I guess. A journal entry if you will, for me to just stop overthinking and start writing.

Because I am a firsthand witness in knowing that even the most random person on your newsfeed, that you literally never talk to who happens to post on their blog, happens to be the one person who's story you connect with or are inspired by.

So even if my words are a complete rant of nothing, and even if it doesn't garner a compliment from a teacher, who cares, at least I'm doing what I enjoy, which is writing.

And what's the fun in enjoying something if you can't share it with others?


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Valentine's Day...What's Not to Love?

Valentine's Day.

One of those days that you either love it, or ya hate it.

I personally love it, even though I have ironically been single on Valentine's Day more-so than not.

Sure, I could sit here and write about all of the conflicting opinions over the Hallmark-invented day. The "you-should-always-be-loving-to-your-significant-other" argument, or the "it's-another-day-to-remind-you-that-you're-alone," or whatever everyone and their mother feels about Valentine's Day, I'm here to say that I love it. (Pun intended.)

There's something about the hearts and chocolates and expensive flowers and cheesy romantic poems that gets me. I think it all stemmed from my very first real Valentine (that wasn't my parents, who to this day still send me a Valentine's Day card without fail.)

It was in 5th grade, and this "boyfriend" of mine - if you could even call it that...we literally never talked and just smiled and ran the other way when we saw each other -  made me a chocolate rose out of red Hershey's kisses and a single green pipe cleaner. He hid it in my desk when the rest of the class was circling the room dropping our paper valentines into our decorated boxes that we made.

Even at a young age I was smart enough to know that this boy didn't make this himself, but that wasn't the point. It was a cute gesture even if I couldn't eat it, and from then on I've always loved Valentine's day.

The thought has definitely crossed my mind to make cute little valentines for my co-workers, but then I realized that I am already the young one, so that probably wouldn't help build my case for trying to not be seen as a recent college grad that loves free stuff and happy hours.

But this year might be in the works for the best Valentine's Day yet. And although it doesn't involve a handmade chocolate rose or paper valentines from Target, it's the best date I could ask for.

My best friend Merebear (basically her legal name) is coming into town on a spontaneous voyage to escape the tundra that is Minnesota. We've made no plans, aside from spending 3 days together galavanting around LA. I can't wait.

Like I said, I love Valentine's Day. Especially this year.

<3

Coincidence...?

I'm a firm believer that coincidences aren't real. Those weird, "random" encounters and connections have to happen for some sort of reason. Right?

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I spent this last weekend in Vegas, visiting my dad who has been stationed there on a work assignment for the past 2 months. As you can imagine, it was a rather low-key trip by Vegas standards, but it was a good time nonetheless.

On my last night, we decided to see a Cirque du Soleil show (Ká, which I highly recommend if you're into that sorta thing) and the weirdest thing happened when we left the theater.

We were walking out of the MGM hotel, and made a quick pit stop at the restroom. I was in the midst of catching up on a couple texts I received while in the show, and learned that one of my pledge sisters was engaged. My dad came out of the restroom and the second after I told him what I had just learned, I heard someone scream my name. I whipped around and saw one of my best friend's mom waving at me with a smile from ear to ear.

She told me that she was contemplating whether or not it was me that she saw (in her defense my hair is a few shades darker than the last time she saw me) and my mention of the girl who got engaged confirmed that it was in fact me.

Sure, it's not the craziest thing that could happen, but when you think about it, of all nights to be in Vegas at the same time as someone you know, of all casinos on the Strip, of all places within the casino, and of all moments for me to be there right when they were, is just crazy to me.

But the craziest part is that's literally like the 7th time that's happened to me.

I have the weirdest and most random encounters with people that I know from as far back as I can remember.

I remember in 4th grade, my family was at the Seattle airport, waiting to board our flight to Hawaii over Spring Break, when sure enough out of the bathroom that we happened to be huddled next to, walks Meredyth, my best friend. She was about to board a flight to go back to MN, and our paths crossed at that very corner of the international airport.

But that's not all.

When I studied abroad in Spain two years ago (tear) I had moments like this almost everywhere I went. I felt like everyone I met I knew either through someone or from something.

I was in the Museum of the Statue of David (whatever it was called...sorry Elaine..) in Florence, Italy (where I was simply traveling) and I crossed paths with a middle school teacher of mine that amazingly remembered me, almost 10 years later. Like WHAT. Florence, Italy?! So weird.

And then there was the time I met a group of guys from 30 minutes away from where I grew up in MN that played basketball with a bunch of my high school guy friends -also in Florence, Italy.

Crazy.

Which leads me to my next crazy thought - six degrees of separation. It's real.

I could go on and on with the weird and crazy connections I've made with people over the years. The more places I travel to and move to, the crazier the connections.

I wouldn't be sitting where I am right now if it weren't for those connections falling into place.

If I hadn't dated a guy in high school who's sister went to KU who was in the sorority that I was in where I met one of my pledge sisters who's cousin works at my company who is now my boss in LA. Insane.

It definitely makes any situation that makes you wary a little more comforting knowing that you're exactly where you're supposed to be, wherever that is.

So could all those situations and connections and seemingly random run-ins be a coincidence?

There's just no way.