Grateful

Thanksgiving? Oh you mean that holiday between Pre-Christmas shopping and Official Christmas shopping? Is it on sale? Yeah, I get into that.

Sad but true, right? It's like Back-to-School season in June: we see you marketers, we know you're sneaking into our retailers earlier each year, but is nothing-- even Thanksgiving-- sacred anymore?

Last year I noted this little injection of mass consumerism and couldn't help but be a little sick with myself. Um, sorry, I am admittedly the Queen of clearance and Sultan of sales, so for me this season is like, well, Christmas so I contributed to this disaster [insert Home Alone face here].

I couldn't help but feel my own participation haunt me as I gagged on how much I heard my co-cube fixate on gifts for her kids: tablets, clothes and more toys.

But what is it all worth? 

I love gift giving, I am pretty sure it's one of my love languages. But despite spending the last few years living at home, with a comfortable job, and an extended network of family and friends that love me, I was still a pouty little brat. So took a step back to consider what I was truly grateful for, some material, some not, but let's be honest, if you're reading this list on your Macbook and say you're only grateful for your friends and family, you're a liar.

• I'm grateful for the friends that make me laugh so hard that I cry. Friends that overshare and that are so sweet they cry with you. Happy and sad tears. Group texts that are technically conversations that have literally lasted for years. For random dinner dates or hangovers from reunions.
• I'm grateful for my family. They're messy and weird and basically can fill their own DSM-5 with drama-founded disorders but they're also mine, and made me who I am even if who I am is consistently annoyed with my family. (It's a cyclical thing.)
• I am grateful for the opportunities I've been presented. Not always ideal (ahem, Bismarck), but whatever. Trade-off for getting to go to Hawaii for two weeks? Ew, traveling and new adventures are the worst.
• I'm grateful for audiobooks, because without them I would never get any housework done.
• I am grateful for people who post pictures of puppies. I love puppies and those pictures have saved me from many-a-meltdowns.
• I'm grateful for drive-thru coffee. Because, duh.
• I'm grateful for people who still spell out "through" because "thru" looks stupid.
• I'm grateful for this country, and this era. It's not cheesy when you think about how as a woman, who is brown, I can do anything a man can do in this country without the fear of having my head chopped off. Literally. 
• I am grateful for wine.
• I am grateful for man-friend, because he tolerates me daily. Because he sacrifices his sanity for me for the sake of a well-cooked taco and a smooch. 

Some of those things you can buy, but some you can't. For the memories of them all. That's what I'm most grateful for. I hope today, if you trample someone for a pre-pre-pre-Black Friday steal, that you spend equally as much energy spreading some love, because we can all be grateful for that.

• And bacon, obviously I'm grateful for bacon.

But that’s living, isn't it?

I write these back to back because the first post was getting long. But also because they are directly related. 

As I sent my emails and eagerly awaited the fatalist’s demise, I wondered what I would have to do to start actually pursuing a life outside of ‘wants’ and ‘shouldas’. What if I actually got everything I asked for now that I’ve let my fear stop ruling my life?

—Cue: Katy Perry’s “Roar”—

Don’t judge me, I love that song, jungle music video and all.

I have shortly found out that the answer to that question is: You get tired, and energized at the same time. I’m intimidated and inspired by all of the amazing people I've been able to meet in the last week.Yes, one week, and my mind is already blown.

I have drank an excess of café miels so much so that I won’t be surprised if I turn into a bee. I’ve stayed up late writing emails, squeezing in a round of dirty dishes, researching, and spent mornings taking tests and cackling with relative strangers of the sharpest wit. I’m exhausted at work during the day not as much physically, but more mentally if only because I’m riding a mental adrenaline rush that can only come from meeting brilliant, powerful, strong people who believe in pursuing your goals and dreams.

A tight-rope of sanity is being crossed, and the risk is falling into madness but, that’s life isn’t it?

 They are part of the world’s committee that says, “Yes, you can, dummy.” It’s a kaleidoscope of emotions and although I am not fearless by any means, I am alight with the momentum of the universe. There is no more silence, and it is a beautiful sound.

To exist is to throw oneself into the world. - Simone de Beauvoir
Image via @frenchwords 

Fear

One of my favorite quotes, I just happened to forget to live by it.

I've had a spell where I couldn't find words. What was I doing? Where was my creative drive? C’mon woman you’re a blogger now! Silence.

Ideas flowed through my mind like a river; never staying long enough to settle anywhere in particular, but always giving glimpses of an ‘almost idea’. Never fully formulated but a seedling for something to come. But still, silence.

I was washed up, dried out and rotting before my own eyes. Seriously, Jess get back out there! I didn't know until I saw a post by Elizabeth Dehn of Beauty Bets, that I was scared. It wasn't that the ideas were rushing past me— it was that I wasn't reaching for them because I dreaded rejection—  failure in it’s basest form.

Her post on realizing that she’s scared to fail resonated so true that I felt stunned for not writing it myself. Rejection. Fear. Pinning me down and holding me back from taking chances. And I let it.

So I stopped being afraid. I want to write, travel, explore, eat, dream, sleep in, stay up late, meet strangers, snort-laugh and happy cry. I want it all, and so I pursued it.

My personal fear begins with I sent emails to women I’d been scared to hear “No” from. (Or “No, thank you.”—because Minnesotans are just so damn polite). There’s a level of boldness and humor when you realize that hitting send in an email or on a phone isn't that hard. It’s terrifying, but instead of being self-conscious and thinking people will judge you, hit the button anyway. I did.

The universe heard my cry, and as I type, I received a response from one of the women I emailed. Is it a rejection? A warm welcome hug? I don’t know yet. But the fact that I took the chance feels good in and of itself. Thanks to @Beautybets for being brave and sharing her fear because it helped me start conquering my own. And also for posting delightful beauty tips. But specifically today, for her courage.

A Hunter's Widow//The Widow's Revival

Image via 

As a Midwesterner, it behooves me (get it?) to acknowledge the informal season known as hunting.

For those of you who hunt, kudos to you. You are not left behind in the dust when your partner decides to go all Bear Grylls and post up in the woods for days on end. 

This is the first year of co-habitation, so it's my first year of having to accept that I will be a solo domestic for many-a-fall weekends.  And I've got to say... I didn't hate it.

In fact, I kind of loved it. 

I missed man-friend in the most irritating fashion. I say irritating because while I was sprawled out on the couch taking up every Ikea inch-- a feat formerly thought physically impossible-- I was having the best time ever, but still kind of wanted him by my side. Is there an emotion that describes longing and simultaneous content?

But I thoroughly enjoyed the time alone. With the winds kicking up and cold-fronts rolling in on the regular, I avoid the outdoors between bare-tree and snow season. It's a personal preference, but it also limits me from impromptu exploring. 

So what did I do? Well, I didn't do the dishes, but I did deep clean the garbage cans. A cleaning process that is not logical, and also cannot be explained to a partner without them wondering why you would do one without doing the other. Why did I do such an obscure task before something that actually requires regular attention? Because I could. 

I sorted through my mail, and moved things into storage. Lit candles and ate pizza in my most unattractive clothes*. I listened to my audiobook and organized my mind while creating a mess in our apartment.

I don't think the fluorescent orange widows should dread hunting season. I think it should be viewed as a time  of freedom where we, the left behind gatherers, take life by the horns!

I know that was a terrible joke, but you get the point. 

*I'll point out that even with man-friend home, I don't dress like a Desperate Housewife, but while I wore socks, slippers and no pants, I felt a special kind of liberation that comes from being alone.