And that's how it's done, sweetheart.

Last weekend I saw the movie Country Strong… and I’m still thinking about it.

I don’t know if it was the super hot cowboy Garrett Hedlund, the fact that I secretly love Leighton Meester and Gwyneth Paltrow, or my newfound (since summer 2010) love of Country music that made me fall in love with this movie, but the fact is that despite the literal storyline, I left the movie feeling great, inspired, and connected to myself.

Perhaps it’s that recently things have been going pretty well, though I don’t want to jinx it. It’s not that my life day-to-day is incredibly exciting, but I think it’s the fact that I haven’t had, err, a mini-crisis in a while. It seems to be smooth sailing for now.

Again, I really don’t want to jinx it.

Most of me doesn’t want to credit a chick flick drama to my renewed sense of self-worth and independence, but what the hell. Why not? I left the theater feeling like I could do anything I wanted, feeling like I didn’t need anyone but myself to do the things in my life I have only dreamed of, and that I was enough. For anything. I know it’s ridiculous, but hear me out.

As most all of you know, I studied abroad in Scotland. And hated it. It felt like there were obstacles at every step of the way, and I honestly didn’t know what I was getting myself into. For those of you who don’t know the intimate details (and I’ll spare you the hour-long anti-Scotland rant that this could very well turn into), I’ll give a quick anecdote: my luggage, which included all of my shoes, clothes, and technology, was lost on the flight over. Coincidentally, that first weekend that we arrived, our Scotland-Pomona-leader led us on a four-mile hike through fields. In the rain.

I hiked in slippers.

After that, and combined with the never-ending yearning I had when I was at school to be at home in Chicago, I wrote myself off as someone who couldn’t travel, couldn’t make it on her own, needed my family-lifeline to survive anywhere I was, doing anything. I wrote myself off, essentially, as someone who had failed. As someone who could do nothing on her own. I lost all faith in myself.

And for some reason, I don’t feel that way anymore. I feel completely the opposite. All of a sudden, my future doesn’t seem so scary. I still don’t know exactly what I want to do in my life, but I have a pretty good idea of the type of schooling I’d like to get and what careers it would present to me. I know I’d like to go to school in or near Chicago so that I don’t have to go through the painful process of leaving my friends again after graduation. I know that I want to help people directly and to feel like I’m making a difference in a person’s life in a face-to-face context. I want to enjoy my work but I don’t want it to define all of who I am. I’m so thankful that I started listening to myself before I got myself into a career I wasn’t sure about. I think I’d wake up ten years down the road feeling like I made a huge mistake, and then what?

Now, I’m only 23. Now, I can (still) really do anything that I want and chalk up any mistakes to “research” and “experimentation.” I’m not good at it yet, but I’m trying to listen to myself and what I want, instead of trying to please other people, which is the way I’ve lived my life until this point. In listening, I’ve let myself dream bigger than I ever have before, and it seems as though these dreams are not outside of my grasp. I know I’m being a little vague, but when these “dreams” formulate themselves into something more palpable, I’ll let you know.

I know I harp on the idea of transformation and finding yourself incessantly, but honestly that’s all I’m about right now. I feel like we have this selfish time where we have to answer to no one and we should, no holding back, milk it for all that it is. While I’m thankful for this opportunity to “find myself”, I know my current elation is temporary, just as I know my feelings of loneliness and hopelessness are temporary (though they seem so much more awful and permanent at the time). But I’m finding comfort in the small decisions I’m making that make me feel overall, at least in the present, happy.

"January 1st does nothing for me."

There's quite a hype surrounding New Years Eve. People start discussing plans in September and buy tickets as early as October. I can't walk into a store without seeing sparkley shoes and sequined... everything. Personally, I think it's a little overrated. There are always decent attempts to go all out, but I tend to forget that December 31st in Chicago can run as cold as -15 degrees, and - oh, that's right - I'm not down to pay $100+ to go stand around in a bar or a club that reminds me of something that should be on the Jersey Shore.

I don't mean to be a scrooge about the holiday at all (hehe)! In years past I have had wonderful New Years. I even spent one at a Castle (a girl can only be so lucky). I love getting together with my oldest friends and ringing in the next year with champagne and phat beats. And this year should be no different, except now we're all mostly home for good. Perhaps this will be the first of many New Years spent as "adults" in Chicago.

This year I decided I'm going to actually make legitimate New Years Resolutions instead of the standard "never eat sugar again" and "give up diet coke" goals that, honestly, are pretty near impossible for me. (Still trying to ditch the DC). No, this year I want to be more realistic and less superficial. Here's a running list of what I'd like to accomplish in 2011. As a coworker of mine says, it's a living document...

1. When I'm out, don't text people I'm not with.

Who CAN'T relate to this? And if you claim you've never done it, I know you're lying. Whether it be for good old fashioned booty or, as I've found myself doing, texting my old suitemates messages such as "i missss youuuu!!!11," we've all been there. Is it really necessary? Looking back, nothing good comes from either type of text - only poor decisions or pathetic misery, since I really can't make it to DC or SF with the click of a button. This resolution is really a reaction to the technology of this time that we live in. It's so easy to whip out that tiny computer in my purse and literally never stay in the present. It will be my goal for 2011 to remain where I am as much as possible.

2. Do more things that feel initially awkward, uncomfortable, or scary

This is a huge one. There's always been a moment for me between hearing about something that sounds mildly uncomfortable (but intriguing) and actually going through with whatever that is. It's easy to stay comfortable and make plans with the same people, go to the same bars, create a safe routine week after week, but when I think about critical moments in my life, most of them have been initially very scary to me. It's only once I get going, or even after the fact, that I appreciate how much these experiences shaped my view of the world and were actually the most monumental events in my life.

3. Don't waste my time on people who suck.

... Is that too harsh?

4. "Don't lose your edge." - Jay Rosenberg

As I look towards my first full year since I was 4 without schooling, I find it critically important to reflect on this quote spoken to me by my junior year AP English teacher, Mr. Rosenberg. He was one of those teachers you hear about as an underclassman - the legendary teacher who "terrorizes" their students, assigning heaps of homework and never giving As. And while this wasn't true, I never really appreciated him until after-the-fact. He was initially the most intimidating, scary, and most difficult grader that I've ever had (I believe my first semester final consisted of two essays: one I received a B+ on and the other a... D+.) But he was also funny, quick-witted, and inspiring. And he to this day remains the sole teacher who has pushed me the furthest and believed in me without waver.

I see how easy it could be to get comfortable. I like my job and I like my friends, and if I wanted to be a scientist forever there wouldn't be any incentive (except living at home) to change jobs or go back to school. But his words have stayed with me. I couldn't tell you what the context was or why he said them to me specifically, but I do know that they continually ring true and especially now, when it would be so easy to stop pushing myself and settle into a job I wasn't in love with in order to be able to fill my time afterwards and on the weekends with tempting distractions. I think, what Mr. Rosenberg meant when giving me a D+ (and similar grades on other occasions) wasn't because I was a D+ student, but because he never wanted us to get comfortable. He always knew we could be better than our previous best, and he wanted to leave that fire with us so it would fuel us through our senior year, college, and beyond. 

And to that, I say, Cheers to 2010.