I was more interesting last year.

Here’s a stupid thought I’ve been thinking for awhile now.

I was more interesting last year.

Lololololol let’s all collectively laugh at my need to be interesting and what I think about on boring Wednesday nights.

I suppose I ask you to laugh because it’s altogether shameful to think about how tragically self-absorbed that statement is. But bear with me, maybe when you’re bored on a Wednesday night because nothing’s on TV that you haven’t already seen (I’m looking at you Chopped. C’mon, enough will the grill challenges.) the ugly thought hits you too. I was way more interesting _____________.

Outside of rollerblading last night (talk about taking life by the horns) I’ve done nothing, absolutely nothing extraordinary this week. This month. Two months. Who knows.  I’ve hardly done ordinary things. Like wash clothes? Nahhh. Shower? Only because I don’t feel like bending over the sink to wash my face. Literally, that was my reason to shower this morning. Take a look at my dish-filled sink and you’re going to wonder if I have running water. I do, to clear that up, but basically I am a lump who consumes Nutella and leaves the knife in the sink.

The problems begin partly with me watching America’s Got Talent (because of the afore-mentioned Chopped re-runs) and bawling my eyes out because these people with dreams are so dang precious. But also obnoxious. At the heart of it, wow, I am so happy for these talented people, but really I just want to know why they get such cool dreams. The lies start pinging my heart and I sit there and wonder, if I had to go stand on that stage, what in the world would I do for a talent?

Comparison is stupid ugly.

But then I try to remind myself that I’m cool. Heck, I rollerblade. I’m pretty sure I have talents, not ones I could present on a stage, but still, there’s things. I made a quiche this week.

Then I remember some of my friends don’t even know what I’m good at. I don’t really even know what I’m good at. Who even knows what they’re good at besides America’s Got Talent people? (And some of them don’t know either.)

You’d think that’s enough to get me upset, but another ugly comparison comes barging.

Last year I was doing _____________. And I felt like I was talented at ______________ because people said so and I was busy and in a cooler spot and didn’t even own a jar of Nutella because I was eating at incredible restaurants. Even worse, the months before that I lived in London. And wow was I brave for a minute because I had to be and I liked that version of me. I did things, constantly. Adventurous, hard, and exciting things. I ate Nutella all the stinking time, but for some reason I was skinnier. What happened to her.

I’m sorry I keep mentioning Nutella, but that stuff is good.

And then I start crying, not because some chick just sang a beautiful song dedicated to her mom, but because I’m sad for myself. I’m sad that I’m here and not where I was or where other people are.

I’m a nanny. I eat Nutella. And I rollerblade at a park because most of my friends no longer live in this city and I would rather have cramping calves than sit on my couch by myself.

I was way more interesting last year.

Pretty dang good pity party I’ve got going. Wouldn’t it be horrible if I just stopped this right now and left at that? Because that’s where my brain wants to stop every time I get caught in this. I’m a wallow-er.

Here’s why I’ve written this short novel. By some great chance you are having any of these crises, or also resort to Nutella, or have just felt like a bottom-dweller at any point today or ever, I just would like to cup your face between my two hands and whisper over and over, “You’re good at living. You are so good at living. You are so good at being you. WOW, am I glad you are you.”

I’d say it until you believed me. I’d say it until we all believed we belonged.

I don’t know if America’s Got Talent depresses you, or if you’ve done something cool in the past and feel like a failure because you’re not doing it now. And I absolutely do not have the fix-it solution to these big, hard thoughts. But here’s the thing: I think living counts. In a world of epic and picture perfect and gold metals, I think breathing in and out when the going gets tough deserves a standing ovation.

Comparison is an ugly, ugly battle fought facing backwards. That's no way to win a war. Look ahead, sweet soul. Look ahead and know that sometimes simply marching on is a gigantic accomplishment.

And also I bet you’re really talented. In fact, I know it. I know you're full to the brim of talents people can't even see.

(P.S. Is one of them rollerblading? Because that's a trend waiting to happen and I could use some help getting the momentum going. Thanks in advance.)

pathways and trespassing

It’s been a year since I’ve put my embarrassment on the internet. I guess you’ll never know about the time I genuinely thought someone stole my car.

Well, I’m back. I was gone because this last year felt like a blur and I’m in the process of untangling and I’ll probably tell you about it soon.

But let’s start with today.

Back story: I’m graduating college this week.

Present story: I thought I’d go on a reflective walk and wander down new streets. The reflecting thing wasn’t really happening a whole lot, but I was having a great time looking at the beautiful houses and thinking about owning a dog as soon as possible. Then I came to this street crossing that was like a six-way stop. After thinking pretty hard, I picked one. And per usual, I regretted it a hot second because it led me up a gigantic hill and my asthma was kicking in.

I headed farther and farther into this neighborhood until all of the sudden, the houses just stopped. Right there was this huge, beautiful field with overgrown patches of clover and a tree here and there. The sun was setting behind it, and it felt like peace and beauty and good things. I looked down at my feet, and lo and behold there was a wide path that led straight through it. Bless it all, it was meant to be. I figured it was a little park or something and I silently thanked my favorite city for doing that for me. I followed the path a little ways but not far because it went straight back and disappeared in a bunch of trees and it looked kinda scary. So I went for this lone tree right in the middle and I sat down.

Problem one, the ground was wet. My pants were a nice light grey and unfortunately they did not stay that way. Anyway, I sat down and after a couple seconds of wincing over the thought that I was going to have to walk a long way home with dirt stains on my back end, I surveyed my new spot. I was on a hill and I couldn’t really see much, but it was beautiful.

I’m sitting there, thinking about this spot in life and praying and talking to myself. Out loud mostly. And I stared a good bit at the sun setting, thinking how perfect it was. Then it happens. I see an SUV. And they are slowing down to a snail’s pace. A little creepy, but that could be normal. Then they do it, they turn right straight towards me. I squinted at the path that now looked a little wider than I originally thought, and looked back at the part that was shrouded by trees. My heart went to my toes. Behind the trees, I finally make out the shape of a stupid, dumb, HOUSE.

I was sitting in someone’s front yard.

It was not an open field. It was not a park. It was an overly large and massively deceptive front yard.

Thoughts:

#1. They desperately need a lawn mower.

#2. Chances of them not seeing me? None, they are now a foot away.

#3. Pretend not to see them or wave?

So there I sat, awkwardly making eye contact with an SUV full of four girls who are literally driving within feet of me and they look torn between confusion, concern, and laughing at me. They didn’t seem terribly upset so I went with the waving, and silently prayed they would stop so I could apologize and explain that I thought it was a public field. Then I changed my mind and prayed they’d just keep going.

They did and the minute they were behind me, I stood up and walked quickly back to the road and I laughed the whole way home. I made no new friends, I barely processed things, and my pants got wet. But I really enjoyed the first five minutes by the tree.

Things aren’t going the way I planned.

I’m lost and it’s okay. Life feels weird and really hard, and that’s okay too. Sometimes the five minutes by the tree is all you need and the rest you can just laugh at until you find home again.

Lesson: Beware of wide paths. It's probably a driveway.