You Can Keep Your Motivational Posters; I'll Take Another Bourbon

The Summer of '13 is coming to a close.

I'm not sure I'm okay with that. With all the rain and running around, I feel like I was jipped of my summer reading and a proper sunburn. Here's to hoping for a far more delightful fall.
At least I'll be able to drink myself into a Pumpkin Spiced Latte coma soon...

Here's nothin':

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In times of discomfort and uncertainty, I often turn to words of solace, hope, or maybe a staunch "get over it!" message. Sometimes, a new perspective sparked by well-intentioned words strung poignantly together can mean all the difference in how the rest of my day goes. Scouring books on poetry, great literary works, biographies on seemingly ordinary people with extraordinary purpose, and even the "good book" itself, I always pray I'll land on a page that says exactly what I need to hear. 

But lately, 

I'd rather open a bar menu to a page that has a drink I need to knocked flat-out cold.

Le sigh.

I don't know if I can chalk it up to the whole cliche quarter-life crisis bit (barf); nonetheless it's hard to explain. Not that I feel old or sad or woe-is-me. Rather, I feel stifled. And stupid. Burnt out from spinning my wheels trying to create, change, and do that often results in little to nothing. I often feel exhausted and empty. Who knew emptiness could weigh as much as it does? For every day that passes where my life is spent swirling in the vortex of mere "daily existence," I feel a little heavier. One of these days I'll either crumble, combust, ... or give up and buy the fat pants.

I mean, 

does anyone else ever feel like the Universe is giving you mixed signals?

 and yet...

Oh, COME. ON.

I feel like the more I try to improve and to change the situation - even by merely changing my perspective - the deeper into that rabbit-hole of aimless existence I go. I see my friends, colleagues, and peers (who are all beautiful, wonderful people I might add) taking big chances and changing their lives for the better. There they go, running off into the sunset to greet their new lives full of meaning and wonder. Lives full of new chances to contribute to society, to see new things, to discover new parts of themselves. Lives where happy hours are actually happy. I'm really proud of those people. I thank the dear Lord for bringing them all into my life and inspiring me to keep up.

But as I stare at my - what I'd like to think is - full resume that includes some pretty cool experiences and opportunities to have left my mark, I feel like I've let those people down. Several years of busting my hump for the cause and living on caffeine and a prayer have amounted to a life of a steady paycheck, leaving me suddenly scared of giving up the small comforts I have secured and pursing what it is I'm supposed to do.

But the fat pants aren't on just yet.

CALL ME CRAZY

(you wouldn't be the first)

but being an adult shouldn't be about settling. About accepting policy and procedure as moral code and trying to fit into the mold of what previous generations have made out to be the "dream." For some, that fits them just fine - and I'm not knocking those who want that. But all to often I find myself surrounded by people (and usually one too many bottles of wine) who want nothing more than to show the world what it's missing. For being in the generation that constantly gets sh*t on, these conversations prove to me that with a little planning and a lot of prayer (and vodka)... we don't have to get left behind.

And as I set out to complete this post that's been sitting in the pending bin for far too long, the words, this time, found me:

To those of you I know are feeling the same, take a minute to look up from your computer screens, your endless to-do lists, your piles of paperwork, and your glasses of bourbon.

Raise that glass up.

Reach out to those people charging into their new worlds - they haven't forgotten about you.

Tell Him - whoever your "Him" is - you're ready.

WAKE-UP so you don't miss the experiences coming your way.

Start your day every. day. believing something good is going to happen.

Make a plan. Like, for real: Write that mess down. Look at it often.

And whatever you do,
DO NOT put on the fat pants.

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And that's all I have to say about that.

Back to regularly scheduled Breakfast at Target foolery soon.

So many hugs & high fives, friends.




**I'm having the hardest time finding the original sources of the images above. Got the deets? Send it my way.**