journey

Source: muchlove-anna.blogspot.com via Stephanie on Pinterest

Source: google.com via Stephanie on Pinterest

well, i knew what i didn't want to know
and i saw where i didn't want to go
so i took the path less traveled on
and i let my stories be whispered when I'm gone
when I'm gone
well in this life, you must find something to live for
'cause when the darkness comes a-callin' you go back to where you were before
'cause this life is as fragile as a dream
and nothing's ever really as it seems
as it seems
well i lost my innocence one day, when in i let him dive
but the way that he looked at me made me feel alive
and now i know nothing at all but the release that comes when you're in mid fall
in mid fall
in mid fall
cause in this life, you must find something to live for...
-Lily Kershaw, As It Seems

Sometimes, a song strikes me to the core no matter how many times I have heard it before. And its a clear visceral response that I can feel where my heart and mind simultaneously agree, "yes, thats it! thats exactly how we feel." I don't know if songs affect you that way, but lyrics are certainly one of my favorite languages when my own fails me. The past few weeks I have had so much on my mind, such weight on my shoulders while simultaneously traveling substantially. It's been a total roller coaster ride. At this point, these days are all about managing the highs and lows and ordering them to balance out. I have been thinking about the future of this blog and whether or not I will continue to maintain it. In September will be the blogs second anniversary. I am quite confident I will not have much time to dedicate to its postings next year while I have my nose buried in a book and selfishly, since I am unaware of who reads it if anyone, I cannot help but thinking my time will be better spent in the upcoming months dedicating time to my own journals and my travel blog (www.defineyourdestination.blogspot.com). That being said, if there is demand, there will be future posts and if there is no demand, this blog will probably be rarely updated. There is inspiration and ideas for great posts and not enough time or drive to see them through. This blog has been near and dear to my heart. It's posts contain raw thoughts and emotions with words direct heart strings and my opinion as precisely as I could have expressed it.

I hope that whatever reservations usually keep you from commenting, that if you were ever to leave a comment, it would be on this post. Otherwise, readers from wherever in the world that you are reading, it's been quite a journey. And journeys are one of my favorite things. It's certainly one hell of one I am on. And I wish you nothing but the best on yours.

With love,
Stephanie

Source: ohthelovelythings.blogspot.com via Stephanie on Pinterest

Source: colorolamente.tumblr.com via Stephanie on Pinterest

i remember a time my balance was fine

"I try so many times but it's not taking me

                                                                            and it seems so long ago that I used to believe

and I'm so lost inside of my head, and crazy but I cant get out of it. 

I'm just stumbling

                                                                           And I'm juggling all the thoughts in my head

I'm juggling and my fears on fire

but I'm listening as it evolves in my head...

And I remember the time my balance was fine

and I was just walking on one fine wire

Life plays so many games inside of me

and I've had some distant cries, following 

and they're entwined between the night and sun beams

I wish I were free from this pain in me

I remember the time my balance was fine..."

-Colbie Caillat, One Fine Wire

hashtag happy, no wait, miserable. no wait, happy.

These days are characterized by mood swings of new proportions. I feel that the weekends where I stay in Madrid drag on, the weekdays also go by painstakingly slow but yet, the fact that its the EIGHTH of May shocks me to the core. 

I have seven weeks left of living in Europe. 

Then, I am looking at around three weeks to move from Atlanta to Malibu. 

Admittedly, my mind is already in Malibu in many regards. I find my mind wandering to thoughts of buying a new couch, selling some things in the house, going through junk I have no use for with less care than a host from Clean Sweep. I am preoccupied with things I should be doing that I cannot at this time- find an apartment, finish my FAFSA forms, etc etc that I need to be in California barking down my Father's back for help. Conversely, I was walking through my neighborhood today thinking of how deeply I will miss Spanish rolling fluidly off my tongue, weaving through these intricate streets alive with culture and rich in history, with free time to do things like blog or read three books in five days and be completely up-to-date on all my favorite TV shows. But as a friend recently candidly wrote me, "the universe can be such an asshole" and you don't get to choose when certain chapters end and begin nearly as tactfully as you may wish. and that's how you end up with mood swings, questioning your own incapability of balancing what you're doing in this moment and where you're headed. 

balance. 

One of the most poignant themes of my time living in Spain has managed to again remind me that i'm no master and i have much more learning to do. Where is the balance between falling for someone stupidly and falling for someone gracefully? When do you cut yourself off and demand yourself to walk away? At what moment is your investment in someone else's time and feelings the "right amount"? Is there such a thing? Is falling off that wire such a tragic thing, anyway? Maybe the most healthy way to approach complicated paradoxes is not by carefully walking the tightrope without falling off, but instead on hopping from one side to the other? 

These are questions I blog about because they're things rolling around desperately in my thoughts with no answers. What do you think? Where do you find balance in your life? Where is there lack of balance? 

All I know is I identify with the lyrics presented above. I know that over the weekend, I felt trapped in Madrid. claustrophobic like I wasn't able to breathe while thinking my next booked flight was not until my flight back to the US in July. Though I have zero intentions of changing my habit of caving to my gypsy-like desires, high blood pressure due to lack of foreseen travel in five weeks is a new level I am not sure is healthy. With my patience growing thin on nailing down upcoming weekend plans, finally a few things fell into place. I have plans for this weekend, which I am super excited about. Yes, in two days I will be on the road again. And it makes the surrounding air easier to breathe. 

I also booked my (extremely expensive, might I add) flight to VIENNA! As I have written many times, Vienna has a huge hold on my heart. One of my first mission trips and most certainly the most impactful mission work that I participate in, this upcoming trip will be my seventh trip to the shelter. I couldn't possibly be more thrilled. 

Until I have "it all figured out" (which will never happen) I will most likely continue to endure this insomnia while I lay awake wondering why I don't have some magical "how to balance abstract nouns and life's absurdities" handbook and blogging about how I managed to screw it up.  

zebras don't exactly change their stripes

"with every sun that sets, I am feeling more like a stranger on a foreign shore with an eroding beach disappearing from under me... i always fall in love with an open door

with a horizon on an endless sea as i look around at the ones who are standing right in front of me. "

 -Death Cab for Cutie, My Mirror Speaks

Turned onto this amazing blog by a sorority sister, I have been enthralled with this random stranger's journey.
I cannot help but feel envy as I search the pages of photos and stories nor can I ignore the similarity between myself and this person who I will never meet. My lust for travel cannot be matched, must less understood by a majority of the people that I know. But it goes beyond that. It's not exactly something I can describe with the limiting conventions of language. I stumbled upon a page asking, "How do we know when it's time to go home?" And for a solid hour or two, I pondered this exact question.
The concept of home, however strange with an ever-changing location and perhaps evolving definition.
Where is my home? Is that where I am, home? In a large suburban house full of nothing except junk, antiques, multiple china patterns, stuff and lurking memories around every corner of tears, drunken escapades, hugs, conversations lasting until after sunrise, nights spent sound asleep and nights spent tossing and turning without sleep at all.
Surely, I am still in search of home. I could find and make home out of anywhere. Home is where the heart is and my heart is fractions across the entire world. Part of it is in Vienna. Part of it is in California. Part of it in Alabama. Part of it has to be saved for wherever I end up in the future. Won't where I attend law school, where I practice law, where I work, where I raise a family all be considered, "home"?
Or maybe, I am just confused and little do I know that my suitcase heart is just a girl waiting on a slow-pony home? Back to here.
It is my intention to spend the next year answering this question. When it is time to go home versus when you cannot take it with you. Although, I liked one response that said something along the lines of, it is time to go home when you are more inspired and thrilled at the thought of comfort and stability than of the next adventure or new experience. Will that sentiment ever fill my body? Certainly, at this moment, the opposite is true. And I suppose that is why I am on the front-end of a year of travel instead of on the other end.

As the day of my departure back to a country where I believe I left a small portion of my heart encroaches, more and more people are asking, "what are you afraid of?" or "are you starting to freak out?"
I could not answer it better than my new best friend, Daniel elegantly expressed here.
My favorite part highlighted in blue and Ctrl-C, Ctrl-V'ed below:

“Daniel, I’m so excited to see where you will go and who you’ll meet and what you will eat. But to be honest, I’m also really curious to hear about your fears. I want to know what they are and how you’ll navigate them.”

When it comes to questions posed to me about my trip, the popular inquiry is about my destinations or my trajectory, which makes perfect sense considering a travel-based project such as mine. But for Ashley, as she admittedly jostles with her own big life decisions, she simply wants a reference point from someone else who is in the flux of reconfiguring life.

                                                                             How does one deal with the fear of change?

There shall be no shame in asking this question.

he goes onto say this: 

There are certain fears that one might infer when pondering the idea of long-term international travel. Many of these fears I recognize, but for one reason or another do not resonate on any sort of debilitating level. For instance, I’m not specifically afraid of being lonely, for loneliness has been present when I was not traveling. I’m not afraid of having my camera or computer or personal items stolen, I have mentally prepared myself for this to occur at some point during the journey. I’m not afraid of being hungry or without shelter, as I have a general faith that my fellow humans will provide for me at my most vulnerable moments. I’m not afraid of being hijacked and murdered by disgruntled Columbian terrorists because, well, I’m not planning on going to Columbia. I generally believe that anything tragic that could happen to me on the road could also happen to me (in some form or another) crossing the street in my hometown.

So what are the fears?

My greatest concerns revolve more around what will happen to me after my travels. These fears are most relatable, I feel. Such as, how will I financially support myself in the future? Who will take care of me if I become permanently ill? Will I ever reestablish the wonderful and illusive trifecta of employment, apartment and friends I had somehow been fortunate to obtain in Montreal before leaving? How do I deal with all the unknowns of life?

I guess what I’m arriving to is the idea that travel is not that scary. But life is.

And if I am forced to really focus on travel-related fears, I suppose there is one great concern. It reads like this: In the “me-centric” pursuit of this dream, I fear the dynamics of my relationships with family and friends will change. I’m afraid that this absence is asking too much from them. 

then, he ends with this:

So, I move forward. Putting relationships to the test. Prioritizing “individual” over “community.” Wondering who will still be cheering me on after this journey. Breaking my mother’s heart, once again. Feeling intuitively guided, and making few apologies for my decisions.

And in my moments of self-doubt and wondering if I’m making the right life decisions, it helps to bring out the old “scale of life.” Each time I balance the concerns of leaving versus the potential personal profits, when I weigh the prospective gains against the conceivable costs, the scale keeps pointing to a simple (minimally fear-laced) sentiment:

Go. For. It.

and excitedly, this marks the end of my alphabet challenge. in case you missed it, the last 27 posts have begun with a letter of the alphabet starting with A and ending with this one, Z. it was not an easy task, but it was done. 

less drowning, more land

though i am not 100% positive, i think the sensation pumping through my blood has not been felt in over four years. i have not felt the security and excitement of pieces falling into place like this in a LONG time. and it feels amazing. i feel like I am no longer watching my dreams from the window  (read what post i am referencing here) but instead i am holding them in my hand like a snitch. watching that dream flap its wings excitedly as i am holding it, just waiting for me to line up a few more puzzle pieces so that i can grab ahold of it fully and let its wings carry me there.
plans are odd things. this year in particular, i have advocated being open minded and ready for anything (reference here). i have reassured myself there is beauty in uncertainty. and after several months, i relapsed into PLAN mode and started laying down plans left and right. it just creeped up on me. finally, i caved under the peer pressure to have it all miraculously figured out. shockingly with a little elbow grease and a few great contacts, i was feeling really good about the new blueprint. i had some promising options hanging in the air and was thrilled for the things i had lined up for myself. then BOOOM. i received an email about a job i had applied for in February. three emails and two days later, i had accepted a year-long position in Madrid, Spain. goodbye plan. hello awesomeness. one of my absolute favorite Bible verses is the Lord's answer to Habakkuk's complaint in chapter one of Habakkuk. He says, "I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe even if you were told."
what's that?  i am not in control? seriously?! this entire time i was thinking i was. oh, was that where i went wrong? well, thanks for the slap in the face, god/fate/destiny/chance/all of the above. a very, very sincere thank you. it was deserved i suppose. i am beyond words exhilarated and thrilled not just for myself but for those around me as i excitedly stay tuned on how their futures are coming together so beautifully also. perhaps patience really IS a virtue, after all. who knew.

"no more false starts and no dead ends" -from his wonderful and newly released album, Matt Nathanson, Mercy      Watch him preform it live by clicking here!

Source: google.com via Shannon on Pinterest

i count the steps from where i am to where i started

these empty halls held our disease before we caught it.

what a poetic way of putting it. i'm also a fan of the "slow dancing in a burning room" by John Mayer. i cannot stop listening to Andrew Belle. I thought maybe this obsession would pass, but it's just worsening. He needs a new album asap. I can let him have my journals to inspire some more lyrics that I feel like he writes intimately about my life. I love this guy. I'm serious. Okay, now to the post.

I was having an intellectual conversation with a dear friend from high school last weekend to satisfy a longing for one. I get these intellectual conversation itches that few people care to indulge me in. But, I am deeply grateful for those that do. When someone is up for one on the Holocaust, time and place I am there.
Anyway, we were talking about phases of life. It's odd how if a book ends poorly, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth for the entire book, regardless of how much you liked the majority of it. When one chapter ends unexpectedly, or not how you would prefer, that's when you have to remember that you are not the author but instead the reader. You have to pick it back up and keep reading. Eventually, you realize why that was written the way it was, and you're not upset about it anymore. As Death Cab puts it, "when memories of me seem more like bad dreams."

I am a pro memory-holder-onto-er. But in thinking about the importance and uniqueness of each "phase," event, memory, moment, I've made an outstanding distinction. No one particular event, person, tragedy, dramatic episode, accomplishment, test, disaster, hook up, break-up, embarrassing moment, group project or professor will stand out over another. All of these things have encompassed my collegiate experience, or as referred to by some, the "best four years of my life." However, I'd like to argue (as stated in my prophecy I do quite a bit of) that every phase of life is going to be sweet in its own way. Each letter forming words that create strings of sentences to slowly piece together a huge story. It's my job to make sure that story is one of love with no regrets.

I loved taking naps in kindergarten, but I'd really rather not go back to learning how to read. Talk about room for embarrassing moments! I thoroughly enjoyed the breathing exercise that we use to do as a cast before competition play practice or the massages after a long run-through. But if tomorrow, someone appeared with the option to go back to GAC uniforms, regulations, Dr. Morris and busy work, I would mull it over and kindly reply, "no that's okay. I'll stay right here." This is how I want to think about college. I am not terrified of this G-word, ggggradduatttion. I am thrilled for it. I worked too hard for that day to be filled with depressing terror of what's to come and that my world as I know it has ended. So, I'm done with feeling guilty.

Maybe cyncism has creeped in too deeply, and maybe I am just excited for change. Maybe I do love the idea of an "open door" a little too much and that my shaking for my running shoes is catching up with me with remarkably great timing (for once). But, there is no reason to fret. I remember thinking that fifth grade graduation was the end of the world as I bawled hysterically walking the halls of the elementary school. What a joke. At the time, I was legitimately concerned. The very idea of junior high was filled with unknowns and rumors that you had to write in cursive for each class. In retrospect, I don't think I have ever been forced to write in cursive, ever. In fact, much of the time it's the opposite.

I thought I would never speak to those friends again. Those friends that mattered then (actually mattered), still matter now. I don't just still talk to them, I love them even more now than ever. One of whom I called a hot crying mess a few days ago. He gave me a solution and said he'd have vodka waiting for me as soon as I entered Roswell.

I have great friends that have gotten me to this point, gotten me through all kinds of shit and will continue to be there. When they fade (if they do), new faces will surface to help hold me together. Thank you Facebook, blogspot, Twitter, Skype and the not-so-glorious "network" for reassuring me that whoever I want to stay in touch with that wants to stay in touch with me will have plenty of tools for doing so at their fingertips. Though, it is natural at an event as emotional as Senior chapter or intense questioning about post-graduation plans to have "back and forth and in between like my emotion" (Andrew Belle, Static Waves) I'm standing solidly on optimism. When my eyes scan the printed words of "Oh, The Places You'll Go!" I have by my mirror, I am reminded that I have great things waiting for me. Whatever the hell those may be. We ALL do. Regardless of what phase of life we are on. I can't wait to travel to Thailand, to live in Europe, to live in NY, to deposit my first 4 digit paycheck, to stand proudly as a bridesmaid in a dear friend's wedding, to frame my master's degree, to hold my father's shaking hand walking down an aisle of my own, to order business cards that have impressive credentials following my last name, to fall so deeply in love no words can describe the feelings, to win my first trial, to support Reggy and the shelter monthly, to have an excuse to eat cake nonstop all day long because I am pregnant, to run a complete mile without decrepitating exhaustion, to sign the line with my name signifying I own my own house, to look at my first born in a face that resembles my own...

Who knows which of those things will occur and in what order, perhaps all of them will. I refuse to be convinced that at 22, I have expended the best years of my life. Regardless of how wonderful those 22 years have been lived. As "I count the steps from where I am, to where I started" (Andrew Belle, Static Waves), what an insane journey its been. But I am leaving it, regardless of whose permission I have or have not received and going onto something equally great, just great in a different way.

All things are good in their own time. And for this, it is time. As I painted on a canvas as a gift for a friend freshman year, it's time to return to a bumper-sticker inspiration. In the next three weeks, I will live it up and drink it down. Laugh it off, avoid bull shit and take chances, without regrets because at one point, everything was exactly what I wanted.
What I really needed was to reminded last week that "I am the captain of this ship, curious hands and fingertips. It's for no one but me to say what direction I shall turn in now." (Dave Matthews, Captain)