On Being a Badass

“I hope you like feminist rants ‘cause that’s kinda my thing.”

— Jess from New Girl

Allow me to pat myself on the back for a moment.

I recognize that society doesn't tend to appreciate people who congratulate themselves, especially women who congratulate themselves, but today I'm going to do just that. Because, dammit, I deserve it.

I just upended my life. I moved across the country with my life in my car. And there waiting for me on the other side in Los Angeles: a giant question mark.

I don't have a job (yet. I'm intending that it will sort itself out shortly). And because of that I don't yet know where exactly I am going to end up.

I drove halfway across the country solo. The other half I had the company of my best friend and we turned it into a travel adventure.

I planned out the entire thing myself.

This is no small feat. Yes, I am hardly the only person to do this; I personally know multiple people who have journeyed cross-country, but this in no way takes away from what I have done.

I am a badass. And anyone who has ever done the same thing is also a badass.

It is of constant frustration for me how often women (many men too I'm sure, but women in particular) downgrade their own accomplishments and deny compliments. It is seen as the socially appropriate thing to do, it would seem. 

You know, the whole, "No, no I am not" response to someone calling her smart, pretty or talented. (Dammit, Woman! Just say, "Thank you!")

But even more than that, let's celebrate strength. Let's celebrate bravery. These are qualities of the women that I admire and hopefully I embody them myself. I'm not saying that there isn't room for growth. There will always be growth. Hopefully, today is the least enlightened I will be from this day forward. But, I'm not about to downplay my accomplishments because modesty is supposed to be synonymous with femininity. 

Which is stupid.

Being humble is wonderful, but being humble isn't about thinking that your accomplishments are mediocre or worse. It's about recognizing that your attainments do not in some way make you a superior being to your fellow humans.

Women should not be afraid to be proud of themselves. I mean honestly, what kind of role models are we to young girls if we constantly devalue our achievements? 

Today, I am proud of myself. 

What I did was intimidating and challenging. And I did it.

My desire and ability to up and go to far away places is one of the things that I like best about myself. Not everyone does this. It doesn't make me a better person than anyone else, but it does make me a badass. 

And since I would not be able to be the badass that I am today without all of the amazing badass women who have come before me, here's to them. Thank you women who fought for women's rights, who broke glass ceilings and who raised young girls into confident, intelligent, courageous women.

photo credit: source

In my 28th year

I turned 28 on Saturday.

Apparently, that is supposed to mean something. Some metaphorical turning of the page.

Our society is rather preoccupied with youth, aging, not-appearing-to-be-aging, and physical decay.  

It's bizarre, actually.

Besides stemming from a fear of death, why would aging be seen as such an awful thing?

If we are able to remove the deep-seated fear of death that most people carry, can we stop viewing birthdays as worrisome passage of time? What if we count our lives in lessons learned or experiences had? I want to keep track of fears overcome and the degree to which I have learned how to love. Those take time to accumulate, thus living (and aging) is beautiful progress.

We seem to assign certain expectations and common benchmarks to different ages, as if we are bound by these rules on a cellular level. Your choices are your own. You do not have to subscribe to the notion that you are ever too old to try new things, have adventures or make big life changes. 

I find it exceptionally funny, if somewhat strange and even a bit disheartening, that we seem to do this to ourselves at such remarkably (and increasingly) young ages. I remember having a bit of a crisis at turning 22.

22!

At the time, I felt as though I had surpassed all of the birthdays where I had new allowances to look forward to. 16 and a driver's license, 18 and a legal adult, 21 and legal to drink alcohol...they were all behind me. On top of it, with every passing 20-something year I was feeling stressed about meeting expectations that I had set out for myself.  

I was not yet working a job I loved. I wasn't where I wanted to be financially. And since I am attempting to do artistic and entrepreneurial things, there have been very few ways to measure my strides towards those goals. I felt frustrated and lost. 

Which is exactly why each birthday was vexing. It brought up the disconnect between my previous expectations and my reality.

It was all in my mind.

I invented the problem and I could just as easily allow for the solution. 

Let go.

Once I let go of my associations between a number and my story about what that represented, everything shifted. 

This is a relatively recent realization. 26 is probably when I started to recognize that I was being rather unkind to myself and perhaps I should cut it out. Granted, this isn't like switching on a light; where once it's on it's on. I still ponder about my age and my life each April, but these days I am able to (mostly) be an observer of the moment.  

Okay, so I do wonder if I'm starting to look older. I am firmly in my LATE twenties now. I still get carded at bars, but I have been curious about how my appearance has changed over the 8 years that I have been in my twenties. Luckily for me, Photo Booth exists.

If you were to look at Photo Booth on my computer (the made-for-selfie's application on Mac laptops) I would look incredibly narcissistic. And that makes me laugh. The good news about having yearly selfie sessions (that normally stay for-my-eyes only) is that it is a wonderful exercise in aging. 

Below, for your viewing pleasure (and perhaps just for a good laugh at my expense) is a collage of various computer selfie's from the past 8 years all mixed up. Besides the hilarious observation that I clearly prefer one side of my face to the other, and that I like to either prop up my chin or my hair with my hand, I think that it is remarkably hard to arrange the correct chronological order. 

View fullsize

Despite the overly self-involved nature of selfies, I think I will continue to have a solo Photo Booth session annually. I think it will be an interesting way to track myself over time and have some fun with the aging process.

Even making this collage has been surprisingly self-affirming. A welcome reminder that the passage of time is both compelling and rather unworthy of our apprehension.

Yes, I recognize that this is a collage of my twenties, not a collage spanning over multiple decades into middle age, but since I had already begun to agonize over possible unwanted changes, it is good to remember that the voices in my head that like to self-criticize are dumb.

When I'm 50, I hope to enjoy looking at my appearance from over the ages and see the beauty in each passing year. Hopefully, I will think back to the moments in my twenties when I thought unkind things about my appearance, remember how ridiculous that was, have a good laugh, and admire my wonderful laughter lines; appreciating that I had a marvelous time creating those creases.

And then I hope that when I'm 90, I look back on my appearance into my senior years, still seeing the beauty, and think back to when I was 50 and thought that I had laughter lines. But no, oh no, little did I know how much more laughter I still had ahead of me to really make them stick.

Compare Much?

I got published in Flux!

Thanks Flux!

In their own words: Flux is a space for those of us who are trying to navigate the beginnings of adulthood to safely express our views and experiences on topics that affect our daily lives. Personal stories, reflections, political views—they all have a place here. This is a judgment-free zone for those of us working to figure out what it means to be a “grownup.”

Here is an excerpt of my article titled Maybe Other People's Lives Don't Matter.

As it turns out, turning twenty didn’t actually make me much less like a teenager.

At 18, I really did think of myself as discerning and astute. I had it in my head that I was now a real-life adult and that I was in control of my own life. In actuality, I was often affected by my surroundings and fairly insecure about a lot of things. I suppose being easily influenced is a rather common trait among teenagers. Unfortunately, that unpleasant state of confusion and that search for exterior validation didn’t magically go away when I turned twenty.

I’ve come to realize that classic “peer pressure,” which is often depicted as an exclusive product of childhood, sticks around well into adulthood. In fact, there is a solid possibility that I will one day be 70 and will face manipulation by my fellow 70 year olds. (I’ve worked in a country club and witnessed this happening first-hand.) But, it is definitely an epidemic when we’re in our twenties. I mean seriously, why do you think the most coveted key demographic for advertisers is 18-34? Because we are impressionable! And on top of that, we tend to buy shit. Because we actually believe that we need it!

Granted, besides the already often-discussed consequences of consumerism-gone-wild, I don’t actually think that wanting to wear fashionable clothes or have the latest iPhone is super terrible or indicative of a personal crisis. We are allowed to like shiny things. No, I’m more concerned about being so affected about others’ opinions of how we live our lives.

Click here to read the rest of Maybe Other People's Lives Don't Matter

Visualization, Goals and The Vortex

It's a tough business trying to get ideas off the ground.  Especially trying to chart new territory.  I find myself waxing and waning between moments of certainty and determination, and moments of hesitation and self-doubt. 

It's infuriating.

Trying to stay in that space of hopeful presumption.   Time for a conscious choice.

I'm choosing to let go and move forward from my negative thought patterns.  I'm acknowledging them, honoring the place in me that they derived from, and visualizing them leaving.  Out my window. Through the door.  To the wind.  Gone.

I don't need them any more. 

I'm sure fear has its place.  Warning of dark caves where literal hungry beasts could be hiding in the days of cavemen and hunters, a fearful pit in the stomach would be helpful.  But this is not that.  This isn't intuition's alarm bells, either.  This is negative, critical self talk.

While I believe in independence, inner strength and a general "I don't care if you like it" attitude to doing your own thing and following your own bliss, it is massively helpful to be around encouraging souls.

Confidence is contagious.

So is fear. 

Therefore, I'm making the choice.  I will spend time talking to people who drive my ambitions not those who indulge my hesitation.  I will listen to Abraham Hicks because it brings me joy and moves me into the vortex.  And I will say words like "vortex" without irony or haughty derision because I genuinely talk like that. 

Being in your twenties is universally hard.  Or at least that has been my experience and the experience of my friends, family, pretty much anyone I talk to.  There is typically an expectation now that one is an "adult" the previous self-discovery type quests and questions have been undertaken and answered.  Nope.  I'm still figuring it out.  I'm fairly certain most of us are still figuring it.  But I'm done comparing myself to others and questioning my desire to take the road less traveled.

I'm inspired by people who take different paths.  I feel drawn to have an adventurous life.  I don't think that is wrong.  I think it will make me happy.  And I believe that when someone is happy, everyone wins. 

I have goals, aspirations and desires to live my life in a way that is true to myself. 

Those of you who feel compelled to live a life that may be considered by some to be more radical, I hope you choose to be your most authentic self and listen to your inner cheerleader and not the inside (and outside) voices of doubt.

photo credits: Pinterest