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?

---

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.

Quarter Life Crisis

I know what you're thinking.

How and why could a girl in her 20's who lives at the beach and has an awesome job possibly even have the term, "quarter-life crisis" in her vocabulary.

I'm not here to complain, and frankly I have nothing to complain about. But what I can say is that the notion of a quarter-life crisis is real.

Whether it's due to change, or due to college being over, or because I'm "growing up," I'm not sure. But lately I've been feeling weird and not like myself.

I try to pinpoint what exactly makes me feel so weird, and I can't seem to. I find myself blaming the fact that none of my best friends are out here with me, or that I am lonely or missing that awesome college life that wasn't even real life anyway.

We've all heard about mid-life crises, and how people do nutso things like buy a yacht, or get some crazy plastic surgery, or wake up one morning and decide to move to Australia. I specifically remember a few years ago my dad saying, "I'm going to do something crazy Amanda. You just wait" and when I found him looking at RV's, and talking about selling the house, I rolled my eyes and thought, it'll never happen.

And it didn't. But that's not the point.

Why do we have these random mid-life/quarter-life crises? Why and how could I possibly ever feel unhappy with the life that I'm living? I'm sure people would punch me if they ever heard me say that with everything that I have, and all the fortune I've received.

And I'm definitely thankful for it all, but I feel like I need something else. Something to get over this stupid "crisis".

I look back at the last 5 years of my life and it makes sense why I'm in a lull right now. I mean literally, for the past 5 years I've done so many crazy and adventurous things, it's no wonder I'm going stir crazy having been in the same place for 8 months now. Even if that place is LA where "winter" consists of a few raindrops and lowest temps in the 50s.

So maybe traveling is the yacht or the RV that will cure my quarter-life crisis. Maybe I just need a crazy vacation and adventure to make me feel lively again.

Or maybe I just really do miss my friends, and the spontaneity that came with them. The last-minute decisions to go out on a Tuesday night, even though we had class early the next day. Or the sudden urge to drive to McDonald's and get ice cream at 11pm.

I get so caught up in my routine now that I have full-time job, that I forget about how much fun it is to be spontaneous. Maybe that's part of the "crisis."

Either way, I feel like I need a vacation. And I feel like this "vacation" will really be me just going to visit my friends and feel the cold weather and do random stuff.

Sounds perfect.

Find Your Passion

Passion; defined by Google as, "a strong and barely controllable emotion"

Not sure I totally agree with that definition, but it's more or less on point.

At Zambezi, "we create passion for brands," which must mean by definition, that we create a 'strong and barely controllable emotion' either within the brand, or between the brand and the consumer I would assume. But lately I've been feeling like I have been lacking passion, and I can't quite figure out why.

Passion is used to describe an emotion you feel about something, a la he's passionate about football, or she's passionate about cooking. But I've realized lately that if someone were to ask my closest friends, what's Amanda passionate about, I'm not sure someone would be able to answer that.

I'm definitely a passionate person; I don't think anyone would have a hard time saying that, but it's the what am I passionate about that has begun to eat at me a little bit lately.

As we grow up, we're constantly being forced to define ourselves. We're forced to figure out who we are, what we want in life, where we want to spend our life, with whom we want to spend it with, etc. etc. We also begin to feel the need to share these findings with the world and make it known who we are, whether it be for personal satisfaction of everyone-knowing-therefore-I-know, or whether it be our way of making sure the world knows what we're made of, I'm not sure. But either way, we're supposed to figure out who we are. We're supposed to know what we're passionate about.

I'm 23. I have a full-time job and pay my own rent and all that and a box of chocolates. I definitely know who I am better than I did a year ago and even a week ago, but in this ever-lasting game of personal trivia to figure out who I am, I can't help but stumble on the passion part. What am I truly passionate about?

Like I said, I know that I feel passion. I am an emotional person by nature, so I must have some essence of passion in me. I can speak passionately, and I can believe in something whole-heartedly. But do I love something enough to be passionate about it?

I have so many friends and acquaintances that have turned their passions into careers. Whether it be traveling that turns into a travel hacking website, book and lifestyle, or cooking that turns into a nationally-awarded food blog, so many people around me are transforming their passions into a living, and I can't help but be jealous.

That's the goal right? To love something so much, and to love to do something so much, that you are able to make it into a career and ultimately a lifestyle. What could be better than that?

It's not to say that I'm not passionate about advertising, because if I wasn't at least a little bit I probably wouldn't be in the industry. But something isn't all the way lined up with the world of advertising and my need for identifying my passion. And maybe it's because it's still very new to me in so many ways. But even outside of my job, (which I love) what is my passion? 

And more importantly, how do I find it?

There are many things that I truly love doing; running, cooking (sometimes) planning events/social functions, yoga, writing (which I've been trying to do more of) traveling, hiking, etc. etc. But I don't know that I love any of those enough to consider my feeling for it a "strong and barely controllable emotion" 

So what does that mean? Am I someone who's just going to love a lot of things but never really know what it's like to be passionate about something? Am I someone who's going to wear a lot of hats in life career-wise and never truly know where my passion is? I sure hope not.

I want to be someone that lights up and gets excited when someone asks me about whatever it is that I'm passionate about. I want to be someone that would rather do whatever it is than sleep (which for me might be a long shot...) 

But maybe that's just life, not knowing what your passion is. Or maybe that's the beauty of life, and why we get to live for about 100 years give or take, to find our passion. Some people are lucky enough to find it within 25 years, but others (like me) maybe need to try everything on the menu before we can confidentaly order an entree.

Or maybe it's just growing up. Maybe this is the part where I still can't quite answer the "who am I" question because I am 23 and I shouldn't know these answers yet...

Whether it's life or me or growing up in general, I hope that while I continue to "create passion for brands," I can start to learn how to create passion for myself, because having a "strong and barely controllable emotion" about something that could turn into a career and possibly even a lifestyle, sounds pretty cool to me.

And instead of sitting here writing about what my passion is or how to find it,  I'll be out there doing it, whatever it is.

___

(Editor's Note: If you can accurately count how many times I use the word passion in this post, not counting the latter, I'll buy you a drink sometime. Unless of course I don't know you then I probably won't. Sorry.)