The 10 unfinished blog posts of 2013

Yes, I have 10 drafts sitting here in the abyss of my blogger account. That's what I have to show for blogging in 2013. The number of unpublished posts says more about me than the number I actually posted, I think.

Some posts got lost in the fray of coming up with new things to write about. And at this point they're just not important anymore.

Some posts aren't time sensitive, meaning they'll be published some day in the hopefully not too distant future.

Some posts were too time sensitive. I didn't finish them within a week of the event happening so they probably won't see the light of day. At this point I don't remember enough details to really do the events justice; I mean, I remember how I felt on those days but it's hard to put those feelings into words. Those things are best left as memories for me alone.

Some posts just became too hard to finish. Even looking back at one now, far-removed from the day I started writing it and the circumstances that provoked it, I wouldn't be able to finish it. And not for lack of words to say what I want to say; I still have those words.

In a sense, I'm glad a number of blog posts were never posted and that I blogged very little about life in the ending months of 2013. It means I was busy living life and not just recording it for people to read online. While I do believe that if life is worth living, it's also worth recording, there are also some moments that just need to be experienced. (Don't worry, the big events were still written down in my personal Moleskine journal)

On New Year's Eve, Stacy, Becca and I went to the beach, sat in the sand, wrote down things we wanted to let go of from 2013 and then burned those pieces of paper. My first two things burned I kept secret; they each burned something secret as well. All the rest we shared with each other out loud. Once it passed midnight, we then burned our hopes/dreams for the new year. They shared all of theirs and all four of mine were shared, and yes, there were only four.

But here's the thing: I won't be sharing any of those four things with anyone again. Those two pieces of paper I burned for myself alone and the four pieces of paper I shared and burned and the words on all of them are for the three of us alone in those minutes after the clock struck midnight. So yes, I'm sharing that overall experience here in this post but the actual experience of burning those hard times and those dreams isn't something to be recorded.

So here's to 2014, a year in which I hope to balance the living and the recording. And maybe I'll have even more unfinished blog posts to look back on.

Nothing to call my own

I just got back from playing tennis. It was fun, but I was having an off day. As much as I wanted to play, and I really did a lot, I didn't ever feel quite there.

All I managed to do well was think. I spent the morning thinking about how I'm not actually good at any single sport. I love sports, both watching and playing them. But I am legitimately not good at any of them. The only reason I keep playing is because it's fun and I like to, which should be enough and almost always is. I've always known this about myself, that I don't have a sport to call my own, but for some reason today it really didn't sit right with me. I think a lot of people are under the impression that because I love sports so much I must be, like, really good at them. Or at least really good at one of them. This is not the case.

You know how everyone has at least one thing they're just really good at? Yeah, I literally do not have one of those things. I'm not even kidding. I just do a lot of stuff in a generally good way, above mediocrity and possibly above average, but I have no one talent. Today I wanted my one thing to be tennis.

I've lived the last four or five years of my life with the secret mantra of "Fake it till you make it." It took all I had today not to curse up a storm. But instead I pretended it was all fun and good and that I was frustrated only because I wasn't playing well. And it's not like you can stop in the middle of a game and say, "Hey friend, I'm just not feeling it today. How about we talk instead?" That's not how these things work.

The worst part about all of this is that I should be enjoying the long weekend. I should be enjoying the fact that I had a great birthday, one so relaxing. Just yesterday I wrote how I was more relaxed than I had been in months. Not even a day later, I'm completely frustrated. Of all the feelings to feel, why did it have to be sadness? 

“Sad is not something I like to be. I’d choose angry or bored or lonely or sick or stabbed-repeatedly-in-the-kneecap-with-toothpicks over Sad. Being sad makes me feel… pathetic? Or needy? Or like I’m a burden to the people I spend enough time around for them to be obligated to care? I know it’s irrational to feel guilty for talking about my human emotions in the place where I… write about my human emotions, but there it is. I’m sad and I regret being sad and whdoihadnfjenbfjwe whatever.” -Hayley G. Hoover

I'm going to get something to eat and listen to The Head And The Heart and hope I somehow find the way to choose happiness today. Because whatever I'm feeling right now? It sucks.

Last YouTube video I watched: Thoughts from Place: Los Angeles after the Earthquake

Happiness is a choice (again)

Almost exactly two months ago I wrote a little about happiness. Life was a little better back in October, not substantially better but a little better. The thing is, some things that weren't so great back then are better now. For example, in just about one hour I will be starting my last exam. Being done with this semester is by far better than being stuck in the middle of it. 


I mentioned in that other post how obviously it's easier to be happy when things are going well in life. That is still totally and completely true. But the fact that I've made the decision to choose happiness, to always choose happiness, can be difficult to reconcile with the need to acknowledge pain, a la John Green and the two quotes I used at the end of this post. This finals week has been difficult in ways none of my other finals weeks have been. I am a firm believer in the necessity of experiencing pain and realizing why things are painful. I don't think you should just up and move on immediately after some difficult situation. 
There is a lot to be said for "just standing there, being still, being sad," as John Green puts it. And I've done my fair share of that over the last few days, so now it's time to be happy again, because as interesting and expressive and important as being sad is, it's not as nice as being happy. 


Basically, once my exams are over, I'm choosing to be happy again. Yes, it will be hard, but I would much rather be faking happiness for a little while than wallowing in real sadness for a long time. Some of me worries whether or not I need to be sad for longer, like I need to mourn for a specific amount of time, but that just seems ridiculous. Then again, it's also ridiculous for me to decide that I won't be sad anymore, as if it's that simple.


I want to try, though, because eventually I won't have to try to not be sad. I just won't be sad anymore. 


Last YouTube video I watched: Noah And The Whale - Blue Skies