Sometimes I Think That Cupid Is Just Taking a Piss

Let me make something clear: I'm not anti-romance, anti-love, or even particularly anti-Valentine's Day. However, this particular holiday does, in fact, annoy me.

While most holidays became commercialized over time, Valentine's Day was basically made as a commercial holiday. And that bothers me.

Why do we feel it necessary to capitalize on people's emotions? I mean, yeah, telling someone how you feel about them can be a difficult thing to do, but I think it's sad that an entire day is set apart just for that purpose.

My opinion? If you love someone, you should tell them that every day.

Besides, Valentine's Day puts too much pressure on having to make some big to-do about relationships. Relationships are important, but, like I said, that should be celebrated every day, not just one day out of the year.

And no, this isn't the 'I hate Valentine's Day ranting' of someone who doesn't have a valentine. I've had the same valentine the past 3 years, and in high school I had the same valentine 2 years in a row, and yet Valentine's Day just fails to be a big deal for me.

Additionally, I think it's sad that, aside from being a day to flaunt your relationship, February 14th is a day essentially designed to make those without a significant other feel insignificant or worthless solely because of the fact that they're 'alone.' A person's value shouldn't depend on whether or not they're in a relationship with someone, but Valentine's Day kind of makes it seems like it does.

I don't know. All in all, it's just a bothersome holiday to me.

Thank God for The Emerald Isle

Well folks, this is my first real post of the new year. And to commemorate the occasion, I'm going to give you more than just a peek through the keyhole...I'm leaving the whole door ajar. That means....story time!

A year ago yesterday, I set out on the biggest adventure of my life (thus far).

I set out for Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport with a ginormous suitcase, backpack, and laptop bag and boarded a plane that would take me first to Chicago, then onward to Ireland.

It is absolutely mind-blowing to think that that was already a year ago. It's also mind-blowing to think about everything that has changed since then. Namely, relationship status, living situation, and overall view of self.

When I left for Ireland, I was "technically" single (sore subject...very, very sore subject...), was living with two "friends" who ignored me the majority of the time, and was generally in a very dark place in regards to myself. It was really just...not a good point in my life.

Interestingly, I had never intended on studying abroad. I was always of the mindset that, if I'm going to travel somewhere, I want to actually be able to see things without still having school and homework to worry about. But, when my dear friend Chris suggested that we say screw it to the stuff getting us down at SLU and spend a semester abroad, it just made sense.

In case you haven't realized this based on the last 2 paragraphs, I will just come out and admit it: Yes, I went abroad to escape my problems. Call me a coward, call me immature, call me passive-aggressive, whatever-- I've called myself all those same names anyway.

To be fair though, that wasn't entirely the reason I went. Large part, but not entire. You know the "not a good point in my life" I mentioned earlier? Yeah, that started in the Spring of '09. Stuff just kind of went to shit (thank you, entrance of a certain person into my life...again, sore subject), and I really, really, really didn't even want to go back to SLU. Especially when things continued to get worse, rather than better, over the summer and into the fall. Thus, when Chris brought up study abroad, it seemed like the perfect way to get the time away from SLU that I needed.

Well, since I hadn't actually been planning on studying abroad, I didn't have anything ready to go. I'm pretty sure, all told, I got together everything I needed in about 3 days. THREE DAYS!! When everyone else going abroad had been preparing for months!

Luckily, I've mastered the art of procrastination, and was thus able to fill out paperwork, get recommendations, expedite renewal of my passport, and take care of all the other miscellaneous stuff that went along with going abroad in a few short days. It was intense...and not without a couple of breakdowns, of course.

Thanksgiving was weird. My parents came down, and we moved almost everything of mine out of my apartment. The roommates barely noticed. After Thanksgiving, it was like everything was moving in warp speed.

The last two weeks at SLU were just a whirlwind of trepidation about what was to come in Ireland, and what would result afterward, writing papers and preparing for tests, and trying to pretend like everything was ok when it really wasn't--especially when the weekend of my 21st birthday resulted in me accompanying someone to the hospital.

Awesome end to the semester. Really.

Somehow I got through that, got through break, managed to pack for 5 months the night before I was leaving, and the next thing I knew I was in the airport waiting to fly to Chicago to meet up with Chris.

After a couple hours chilling in Chicago's airport, Chris and I embarked upon our flight to Ireland. Loooong flight. Which, unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your opinion of what to do to avoid jet lag) neither of us really slept during. Consequently, we were exhausted when we got to Ireland.

Even in our exhaustion though, we managed to make our way through immigration (where the guy who cleared me into the country ended up being the same guy to clear everything for me to leave...and he remembered me!!), get train tickets to Galway, and get to our apartments from the city center. Which actually resulted in schlepping copious amounts of luggage over gravel for awhile. Fun!

Upon reaching our apartments, we discovered we had no heat. So we were tired, hungry, far from home, and cold. Bad combo. Luckily, the hunger was fixable, and one of Chris's flatmates walked into town with us to get dinner.

From then on, things were just kind of a blur. Actually, that's a lie. I honestly remember everything about those 5 months extremely vividly, but to recount everything for you would take too much time, and really, it wouldn't mean the same to you as it does to me.

In those months, I met some absolutely amazing people...and I mean amazing in every way possible. Aside from Chris, I didn't know any of the other people from SLU who went to Ireland. Two I had class with before, but didn't know them outside of that, so I can't really say I knew them.

But oh my goodness. I could not have asked to have wound up with better people. My mom has always argued for the existence of what she calls "earth angels"-- people who come into your life at just the right time, and make such an impact that, even if you never talk to them again, you never forget them. You know they were supposed to be in your life, even if for just a short time.

The people I met in Ireland definitely ended up being earth angels for me. And Chris proved--repeatedly--that he's one for me as well.

Anywho. In 4 1/2 short months, I learned more than I ever could have hoped to. Not just in my classes, which actually did challenge me (well, my Spanish classes at least), but about myself, about life, about the world.

I've talked before about how I never feel like a grown up. Well, Ireland was the first time I ever felt like I might be capable of more than I think. Yes, I've moved before. Yes, I went out of state for college. But really, I've never been on my own. My parents have always been an easy phone call away, and ready to calm me down when I need it. In Ireland, though, it was just me.

Any situation that came up, I had to get myself through it. It may not sound like much, but it was a huge independence thing for me. I finally realized that I can take care of myself, and I think that's something I really needed to know.

My time had its ups and downs, which is to be expected, but for the most part, that 4 1/2 months was the most content I think I've ever been. Or at least the most content I'd been for a very, very long time.

In those few short months, I also managed to travel to 11 different countries (one by myself!), which was unbelievable. Seriously.

Now, like I said, a lot has changed since then. When I got back, I had a boy waiting for me...which I really didn't expect to happen. Things are good there. I ended up being assigned to an apartment--in the complex I've wanted for the past 3 years!--with some absolutely wonderful girls, which I am so so SO thankful for!! Honestly, this is the best living situation I've had in my time at SLU.

But most of all? I've changed since then. I know it sounds cheesy and cliché, but Ireland really did help me find myself...or at least figure out a little bit better who I want to be. I'm more confident in myself in all regards, and feel like I've developed both a strength and a patience that I didn't know I had before. I feel a lot more self-sufficient than I did a year ago, and I've finally hit a point where I'm actually taking care of me.

And, as much as I say I'm still not a grown up, I've been told countless times since my return that I seem more mature. So I guess that's a start, haha.

I may still be as neurotic, high strung, and emotional as I was before, but I think I keep it balanced a little better now. Or at least I try to keep it more in check, which is good.

For the first time in years, I can honestly say that I am happy. Not trying to be--I actually am. Life may not be perfect, but I'm a lot better at dealing with the imperfections (still not great at it, but working on it).

So for all of that, I thank God for the Emerald Isle, and the time I was blessed to be able to spend there.

I'll never forget you, Ireland...and I'll be back someday.

Welcome 2010!

Holy moley. It's a new year.

Seeing as I fell off with the whole blogging business pretty quickly, and haven't written anything in over two months, I think New Year's Resolution #1 is going to be to blog more.

Good plan? I think so.

However, I have a grad school application essay to finish up, so this resolution is going to have to start after that. Just hold tight a little longer!

I actually do have several things I want to write about, so look forward to entries coming soon, and Happy New Year to you!

The Power of Proofreading

In case I haven't yet shared this tidbit, I'll let you know that I love to write. I have since I was a wee youngin.'

That being said, I knew when I was very young that writing was what I wanted to do as a career someday. It still is-- thus why I'm going to go to grad school for journalism, and hopefully make a name for myself as a writer. Also the reason why I write whenever I can: two websites, a university newspaper, this blog, my journal.

The more I write, the more I realize that this isn't just something I like to do. As cliché as it sounds, I really feel as though writing is something I'm meant to do.

This may sound as though I'm just tooting my own horn but, when starting in second grade every teacher you have lauds your writing ability and tells you that you should do something with it, I feel as though there has to be something more to it than just ego.

Now, as I continue to write and branch out into different writing styles and mediums, the more I become aware of how I write: my voice, tone, grammar, word choice/usage, all of it. This, coupled with the fact that I am constantly reading due to a) being a bookworm who thoroughly enjoys reading and b) being an English major, makes me extremely critical when it comes to the written word.

This caused my semester in the required intro-level college writing course to be a miserable experience. It consisted of peer editing a lot of papers that were either just flat out poorly written, or (even worse) clearly showed that their writer had a lot higher opinion of their own writing quality than it actually warranted.

Anyway, my critical eye has led to me possessing a general frustration toward much of what gets written today. My family has often been entertained at my expense as I suddenly let out sighs or groans of exasperation or jump up to grab a pen to correct errors while I'm reading.

It doesn't matter what I happen to be reading, be it a book (really, you'd be surprised how many errors manage to sneak into books during publishing), magazine, or newspaper, 9 times out of 10 I will find at least one error. What makes this so bloody frustrating?

The fact that these publications go through editors and copy-editors! People are paid to correct any mistakes and make the writing a perfectly polished piece, and yet blatant errors still manage to slide through!

Granted, copy-editors aren't always reliable. Whenever I have an article published, I always compare it to the original piece that I submitted, just out of curiosity to see what might have been cut. On more than one occasion, I've read articles of mine that were published with errors--spelling, a word or two missing--that were not in what I submitted. Seriously.

I realize that most people don't have someone designated to be their editor. Thus, we have to be our own editors.

Proofreading, my dears, is the key.

When we write, it's easy to rush through and not give what we've written a second look. But that second look is crucial. Spelling errors, grammatical errors, words that look similar used in the wrong context-- all of that is damaging to the credibility of the writer. It takes away from the overall quality of a good writer, and makes a poor writer look even worse.

Personally, as soon as I encounter an error in what I'm reading, my focus on the piece is gone and I'm instead keeping my eyes peeled for the next mistake. And I know I'm not the only person who does this.

So please, if you're going to write something, I don't care how insignificant it may seem, make sure you pay attention to what you're doing.

And always remember the power of proofreading.

The Future Freaks Me Out..But Not as Much as it Used To

Oh my goodness. I am growing up. Eep! Admittedly, I am scared to death of the future (refer to one of my previous posts...). However, in the last few days I have decided to face that fear head-on in order to try to conquer that fear. What have I been doing? Well...

In my Business and Professional Writing class we've been working on writing our résumés. This is something my mom attempted to get me to do this past summer...and the summer before...and the summer before that, too. Not being one who is too inclined towards being a grown-up...Hold on. I'm going to digress for a moment.

I've noticed that both in these musings (few as they've been so far) and my daily speaking, I make a lot of references to growing up/being a grown-up. I feel as though I should take a second to clarify what I mean by that. In my opinion, there is a HUGE difference between being an adult and being a grown-up. An adult is what you become when you turn 18, and are seen in the eyes of the legal system as no longer being a minor. Adult, however, is NOT the same as grown-up. I see grown-ups as being people who have real responsibilities in life, are fairly dependent on just themselves, and likely have responsibilities for someone other than themselves as well. Not the most in-depth explanation, but I want to get back to the point I was previously going towards, so this will have to suffice for now.

As I was saying, not being too inclined towards being a grown-up, I of course put off the résumé writing. Now that I have been required to write it, though, it's kind of fun going through and finding all the things that make me awesome. A bit narcissistic, perhaps, but it's a nice little ego boost. It also makes me feel like I'm floundering a lot less than I discussed in a prior post. For what I want to do/the type of job I'm looking for, I'm actually pretty qualified. Writing up my résumé has actually helped me breathe a sigh of relief about the future. Let's face it: we all know what our academic and job experiences have been, we know where our skills/strengths are but, at least for me, just having them in thought form made them seem insignificant and too theoretical. Putting them on paper has made them actually have meaning and worth, which is what I was so scared of lacking.

I have also made myself finally dive into the grad school search. This is another thing I was terrified of doing. The whole grad school concept fills me with an -almost- inexplicable trepidation. The fear that comes from looking at grad schools is two-fold: 1. I know grad school is continuing education, but it just seems so much more of a grown-up thing than I feel (well, felt) ready for. Undergraduate education is seen as this time to learn, of course, but also a time to experience life and goof around before you actually have to be a grown-up, whereas grad school is hunkering down and driving yourself towards your career. That's intense! 2. Moreso than that even is the matter of not knowing where I'm going to end up. Specifically, not knowing where I'm going to end up in relation to a certain someone.

I know that probably sounds completely naive and girly and lame and like I'm planning my future around one person, but that's not really the case. I'm going to leave out details entirely, but let me just say that we had to go through a LOT to finally get to the point we're at now, and I'm just scared of us ending up on opposite ends of the country next year and having everything that it took so long to build just fizzling out. It's not the greatest thought, but one that must be faced.

While looking at grad schools, I discovered that there are only around 60 journalism grad programs in the country (and that number isn't JUST journalism...it includes mass communication as well). From those 60, I have managed (in 2 days!) to get it narrowed down to 15 (well, 14 journalism and one professional writing program) that I'm actually interested in finding out more information about. Not too shabby, eh? The thing that's weird though is that the more I research schools/programs, the more excited I get about it. It's still really scary to think about, but in that good way. Especially when I read about the master's program at Syracuse...it sounds like my utopia beckoning to me. That's all I will say about that for now.

So that's where I currently stand on all that. Feeling pretty good about stuff, woot. Hopefully I manage to stay in such a positive view of everything...I have a tendency to psych myself out, or to find some minute possibility of what could be negative that ends up pulling me down. But no! I am determined to continue feeling good, dammit!

Flight of the Frontman

Today the members of the band Chiodos announced that their singer/frontman Craig Owens has been 'let go' from the band. Now, being a fan of Chiodos, I've been continually refreshing the page of Chiodos Myspace bulletin making the announcement, just to see what kind of reaction the news is getting.

Frankly, I'm a little shocked by it. There are (upon my most recent click of the 'refresh' button) 78 pages of comments...and almost all of it consists of 'fans' telling the other members of Chiodos how much they're going to suck now, and how Craig was Chiodos, and Chiodos was Craig. I'm inclined to question the fanship of these people.

A band consists of more than one person. One person is not a band. To say that you like a certain band strictly because of one member of it makes you a fan of that individual, not the band. I will admit that part of the reason I enjoyed seeing Chiodos live is because I find Craig a very attractive guy, but ultimately it's the band as a whole that caused me to want to go to their shows. Craig is currently touring solo, and I have not (and still don't have) the slightest desire to see him on his own.

Despite this opinion, I'm well aware that people generally base their view of a band around a 'frontman,' who is usually the lead singer. That's all fine and dandy, the singer is the one you can easiest feel a connection to since they're the one communicating the actual words that are hitting you. But what about the rest of the band?

We all love the frontman/frontwoman, but aren't the other members of the band just as important? I feel it's unfair that bands so often become associated with just one (sometimes two) of their members. Examples? I'm friends with a few guys who are HUGE Alkaline Trio fans, complete with having man crushes on Matt Skiba and tattoos of the Trio symbol. However, any time Alkaline Trio comes up the only person from the band they ever make any reference to is frontman Matt Skiba.

Why, why, why?! I understand that the frontman is the one putting their presence out there, more or less creating the personality of the band. At the same time, though, they are still just one person. They represent the band, they are not the band itself.

I'm not saying that the frontman should be ignored, because yes, they are an important part of the band. Just let's not forget that there are other members of the band as well, who are just as essential.

Well, there's my rant for the day.

And the count is now up to 87 pages of comments, still all Chiodos bashing. Le sigh.

Time Marches On

...And I often feel like it's marching too fast for me to keep up.

I feel like the majority of what I hear about these days is about people diving into jobs and internships, getting engaged, having kids, making plans for what they're going to do after graduation, all these important life-changing things.

Me on the other hand?

I think I'm rather stunted on the whole moving forward fact of life. Here I am, almost 22 years old, graduating in 8 months, and...absolutely petrified by the idea of the future.

It's not that I'm afraid of change, I just have an overwhelming fear of the unknown. The way I see it, as much potential as there are for things to work out well and life to be this amazing ride, there's just as much chance of everything falling apart at any given moment. This terrifies me.

The fact that I'm not one of those people who has everything planned out is a double-edge sword in this regard. On one hand, I suppose it's good that I don't have a set plan, then I'm not putting limits on myself or boxing myself so strictly into some unchangeable plan. But on the other hand, not really having ANY plan just makes me feel like I'm aimlessly floundering.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not completely lacking in direction. I have ideas of what I want to do, where I want to go, what my options are...I'm just not quite sure how I mesh all of that into something that satisfies everything I'm looking for.

*sigh*

I suppose things will fall into place however they're meant to.

For now though, I guess I have eight more months of anxiety to look forward to. Yay.