I wrote my deepest, darkest fear on a notecard last night and watched as it was dropped into a fire. Surrounded by over one hundred sisters who I know would fight my demons for me at the drop of a hat, we watched as everything we thought that was holding us back, or keeping us from being our best selves burned in that campfire.

As someone who takes things almost a little bit too symbolic at times, I hate to say that I woke up today with the same fears that had been burned the night before. Shortly after our fears were reduced to soot and ashes, I lay in a field with two people with whom I have formed a remarkable closeness with over the past year that they have been in my life. I voiced my thoughts of maybe staying at Illinois State for graduate school, or somewhere closer, I was met with a strong response to do the opposite. I should go far and do big things, because I have more ambition than to stay with the familiar, to have the adventure I've been talking about, and to go somewhere amazing so that my friends could come visit.

In a nutshell, I heard exactly what I wanted to hear. That this dream of mine is not something that seems outlandish and foolish to others. What I am missing, however was the exact solution as to how to get over the fact that I am utterly terrified to leave behind everything I have come to accumulate in the past four years here. Things that seem more valuable to me than almost anything to me in the world.

How do I take the chance that Boston, Baltimore, Seattle, or Austin will have the some of the things that I have here? I know for a fact that I won't see my sisters every Monday night, get notes spelled in incorrect synonyms, or even know the bouncers everywhere right away. Will I still have that same sense of comfort and familiarity I feel when I'm driving down Vernon and know what side streets to turn on if I'm running a little late to work? I'm nearly sure I won't have a batch of kindergarteners to follow me around offering me life wisdom in graduate school, or whatever I decide to do.

And on that note, what in the hell do I want to do with myself? I can see myself doing so many different things this time next year that I probably should do a drawing or a raffle to pick what would fit me best. Do I want to do Americorps to garner some experience and loan forgiveness, and also to live out the lifestyle I've come to enjoy so much during my time with Alternative Breaks? Do I volunteer in Kenya for a little while to experience something completely different and get closer with my cousin, all while seeing how the other half of the world lives? Do I go to graduate school and bust my ass for another two years, meanwhile procrastinating growing up for just a bit longer by punctuating work with football games, bar nights, and meeting new friends? Do I apply for jobs and go wherever life takes me, even if that means moving back home to kick it with my parents for a while?

I guess in a sense I am fortunate enough to have so many options, to be able to weigh all of this now, almost seven months before I have to actually say goodbye. Unfortunately everyone knows that too many cooks spoil the soup, and an overstimulated and overthinking Denise just ends in a lot of lists, tears and organization.

Just some thoughts, needed to get everything out before the week started.

xoxo

just some things.

"To live would be an awfully big adventure" -JM Barrie

I have come to realize, perhaps more suddenly that I would have liked to, about how life has a tendency to play out. Just yesterday, I was waking up and leaving my house for the first indefinite period of time, and beginning my journey at college. Before I know it, it'll be time to leave the world I have come to know and be so fond of. And I suppose this all is fine, because for the first time in a while, some sort of adventure seems extremely attainable. That now, if not ever, is the perfect time to do something just because I feel like it. There is nothing holding me to one place or thing other than commonality and some minors thing called money and getting accepted into graduate school. You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take. So why not?

I have learned that no matter how hard you work or fight for something, sometimes it's just plain broken and was never worth the effort from the start. That is probably the single most exhilarating and soothing realization you can come to. To simply throw something away, whether literally or figuratively, after you have spent an agonizing amount of time to try and mend it so it will just work for once, is wonderful.

Listen. Listen listen listen, because there will come a time when you regret not having listened closely enough, when a detail has disappeared and you can't simply call up the person and ask them to elaborate anymore. If only it were possible to remember every funny story, piece of advice, or comment, perhaps we would not feel so lost ourselves after losing someone we love.

Fall in love with the world in a way you have never looked at it before. Something about the universe seems a lot lighter than it used to, and I'm not truly sure I know why. Each morning seems a little brighter than the last, despite disappointingly cloudy and rainy summer days.

Although none of my thoughts lately seem to follow any sort of organized process or structure, maybe it's because there seems to be so much life to be living, that to waste any time on formalities would be a shame.

images

In boredom of not being able to sleep, I got the strange urge to look at pictures from prom my sophomore year of high school. As I've become so accustomed, I opened iPhoto and looked for the tab like it was any other occasion before I realized that while it might seem like a recent memory, that was six years ago, and pictures from that long ago were definitely not easily accessible. It's almost as if that whole night didn't even happen anymore, the dress I wore is hazy in my mind, I remember only a few people who seemed to stick out, and next to nothing is remarkable.

And then I got to thinking about it, about our reliance today with some sort of tangible evidence to be able to associate something with a memory. About how even though I was too young to really take anything out of it, I remember my grandma and grandpa taking me to the park one winter night and dragging me around in a box or a wagon, or something and wrapped me in a plaid wool blanket. Any time that I see any sort of red plaid, I can immediately hear my grandpa laughing and feel the snowflakes on my skin, and the sweaty coolness of being a little kid playing outside in the wintertime. A few notes from a song can take me back to Spring Valley Way before I even knew what a college campus looked like, and hadn't even had braces or been to high school.

So maybe an image on a screen isn't quite necessary to remember a moment, a time or a place. Sometime's all that's necessary is the wind to blow a certain way and that's all I need to take me back to the hills of Athens on a hot summer day, or to the first time I was out past midnight. To the first time I ever got broken up with, or to the sweet smell of chlorine on a summer morning, or sitting at The Spot with the people who made my world go round at the time, some that still matter and others that don't.

Time has come to pass since all of the things I no longer have some sort of tangible image of, in some cases a lot, and in others not as much. One thing that has always served me well is my memory. The second happens to be my laptop's hard drive. Don't fail me now.

I have never wanted to be one of those people who could write a million beautiful words to be read, but at the end of it leave someone completely puzzled as to what those words were about. I like to think that when I write words down, there's not much to be left to interpret- that my use of past tense alludes to compulsion involving cleaning, or any other bullshit like that.

Plainly stated, I've been thinking a lot about doing things while you still can, before you literally and physically cannot. My warm months started out somewhat dull and uneventful, since I was at least an hour away from most of the people I wanted to be spending time with. After a few weeks of days blending together and nothing extremely special happening, my grandma fell and broke her hip. I've never really had my own personal brush with mortality, but I'd imagine that they start to become more common the older you get. Now, you see, my grandma is eighty-six, but in her case, eighty-six is the new sixty. In between taking in Cubs games and going on cruises, my grandma doesn't stop moving. That's how she's been for as long as I can remember. Knowing that, and then seeing her in a hospital bed, blinking back tears because the pain medicine isn't strong enough, is a humbling thing. Later on, I made some remark in passing to my mom about a comment my grandma had made about using coupons to save ten cents on canned corn, or something else everyone's grandmother has probably said. My mom, laughed, but told me that I need to take advantage of the time I have with my grandma now before it's out of my control. I don't really know how many times one can be reminded to enjoy the little things, the funny aspects of something, or even the not-so-good things. I almost wonder why I have these revelations so often, as if it's a sign that I need to start appreciating more, but I already feel like I'm pretty appreciative. It's puzzling, almost.

I sat here and thought about this all for a while, mostly because I felt like I hit a brick wall with this and wasn't too sure how to sum this up, or end it, and then I sort of realized. I am a control freak. I plan things way too far in advance, almost to where it is not a good thing. If I could stop the gears in my head for two seconds and enjoy what's in front of me without contemplating how to take it farther, how to do more, or where to go next, I think I would really be able to enjoy the little things more. And that will always be my Achilles heel, especially because I don't really think being organized is a bad thing, or thinking ahead. Just maybe a little too much.

And on that note, I'm going to go read my book.

do you wanna leave or somethin'?

I have at least ten million songs stuck in my head right now, yet not one single one can describe how I'm feeling right now. Maybe because it's past 1 am which is FAR past my normal bedtime on weeknights. Maybe because everything seems really indefinite and not decided yet, that I can't really pinpoint one feeling or emotion because I don't really have just one.

Today was a really good day. I learned how my grandma and grandpa met each other, and some of the story from there- something I'd never heard before, and I don't know if my mom even is able to elaborate on. I spent the last hours of daylight on a blanket in the middle of my favorite place on earth with excellent company and complementary music. I came relatively close to crossing off the forgotten 'eat on a rooftop' from my Summer Bucket List from 2008, until we were told that the rooftop was only for appetizers. It's funny that no matter however many circumstances, experiences, and memories later, I will always love going downtown with no predetermined destination. I feel like you get to know someone so much better when they are slightly out of their element.

All of a sudden, all of this seems to be coming out of nowhere. All of a sudden, there are so many things that still need to be said and done and it seems like there's time running out. I need to read at least five more books this summer before school starts back up and I can only stand required reading. I need to start saving the $60 a week I need in order to afford Europe next summer. I needed to start doing that like, five weeks ago in order to fit the budget. Too bad a Free People dress seemed more appealing at the time. Too bad I throw my paychecks into my gas tank and down my throat before they ever make it into my bank account. There are so many bike rides and runs that need to be gone on, but it seems like all of my idle time lately has vanished and in their place, exciting plans and long drives have come. I am not complaining about this. I will probably be complaining as soon as I finish my triathlon in August and wish I'd trained a little harder, but I am not complaining. I sound like a crack addict or like some kind of tweaker when I reread this, because there is a month left of summer, not two hours, three days or even a week.

I wish I could stay on one subject when I write.

I'm rereading a lot of things I wrote a little over a month ago and I'm completely calm. Not lacking emotion, like how I spent the month of April, but calm. What I once wrote, hoping that words would weave some weak link to hold our changing paths together for just a little bit longer, I now read with a knowing smile. It's like imagining a photograph one way, and then finally seeing it to realize that the sun wasn't setting, it was rising and that the tear was on the left, not the right. It's still beautiful, with the same impact you had expected, but something is different. The difference is that I don't think I'm going to break down and plead with anything to change what has happened. It was amazing, it broke, and it's not getting fixed. It's like a fake Rolex you buy in Chinatown. You finally get it, and you love it, but when it breaks, it's finished. You can't bring it to a jeweler and ask them to fix it, they won't touch a Rolex. You can't bring it to whatever specialist they tell you either, because they'll know that you bought it for $25 from some man on a street corner and not on a Platinum card. Trying to dwell on this would be like going out and buying a real Rolex and then misplacing it underneath the wheels of my car. It was so so beautiful and I cared so much about it, until something happened and it broke. It's going to take a lot to fix this, and maybe it'll cost too much. Too much of my heart, too many tears, and being disappointed by expectations that no human could fulfill. But we're talking about a fine watch here.. that will cost a couple thousand dollars, at least and some questioning glances about just how a fine piece of Swiss craftsmanship ended up underneath a tire. I've bought watches and have watched them break, only to do the same thing, thinking that this one will be different. This is not about watches. I broke a Rolex recently, but I did not pay for it, nor did I try to get it fixed. In another context, I broke a Rolex and I pleaded with God to please fix this, because it was everything to me. This is about second chances, and maybe even third, but also realizing that with every change, the things that are already broken might not get fixed. This is about finding that a part of myself is written into everything I read and hear. Where that leaves me, I'm not too sure, but I know that the ride has been pretty fun so far, broken timepieces or not.

shitmydadsays

So, I feel like I should make an account of all the hilarious things my dad says, but oh wait.. that's already been done.

But here's a few funny ones anyways.

"Denmark vs. Netherlands at 6am tomorrow.. you in? Dutch and Danes.. Two nationalities you wanna meet when you go to Europe. Tall blonde stoners. yesss"

"Kobe looks like hes spent some time in a concentration camp, he's so skinny." "Or in an underage girls room. wait, was she underage? No he raped her. Gotta get my crimes right"

"Kendrick spent way too much time playing the drug game in his neighborhood and not practicing free throws"