On Being Just Like My Mother

From the time I was little, people have said, "You're just like your mom." It's true. My mom and I are two peas in a pod -- from the way we look to the way we laugh to the way we can spend hours and hours on a simple project.

I went through phases of loving and despising my similarities to Mom. I loved that she would patiently play games with me all day when I was sick, almost making being sick fun. I loved how she would ambush me with snowballs, unleashing spontaneous fun on dreary winter days. I loved how she could set her mind on a goal and always see it come to fruition, like winning a card game or finishing a work project. Still, there were things I despised about my mom. I despised the way she could always win an argument about the urgency of me cleaning my room. I despised how she was always right when she said I "have plenty to wear without new clothes." And I especially despised that she would make me stay and be social at events when I was found hiding out with a book.

I have come to realize, though, that every time I didn't want to be my mom, it was because I was jealous of her. When I argued with her about cleaning, I was secretly jealous of the way she could keep things organized while my room spiraled into a mess. When she said I didn't need new clothes, I was jealous of how thrifty she could be. And when she told me I needed to "stay and be social," I was jealous of how she could so kindly talk to people who drove her crazy. My mom was the ideal version of myself -- and in my mind, the person I could never quite be.

When I went to college, my mom and I formed a new kind of relationship. My mom and I don't live in the same world anymore. Since I go to school out-of-state, we see each other about 3 times per year. We talk on the phone about every 2 weeks. When we compare our worlds, though, it's like looking in a mirror. Our conversations are met with, "Yeah, that's exactly how I feel in a situation like that!" and "Oh, that's what I would do too." Our personalities and behaviors are remarkably similar, even in completely different surroundings.

And there's something so cool about that! I now know that my mom probably felt the same way in college that I feel now. She was probably terrified to make her first long drive on icy roads. She probably didn't always feel capable of being socially adept. She probably worried unnecessarily about the littlest things. And it all ended up being ok! She worked through her weaknesses, found her strengths, and developed into an absolutely incredible human being. If she did it, then I can too.

My mom is my biggest inspiration. On being just like my mother: I feel fortunate to be so similar to such an amazing woman.

Looking Back: 2013 Holidays

While chillin' in my PJs, feeling sorry for everyone who was out Black Friday shopping, I came to a pretty weird realization: I have not spent a holiday at home since New Year's. That means every holiday of 2013 (excluding this upcoming Christmas... but give me a break, it's 6 days from 2014!) has been in an entirely new situation doing entirely new things.

Thanks to iPhoto and my penchant for pics, I can look up what I did for every major holiday. Ready for a blast from the past?

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

This isn't my best example... MLK Day was actually on 1/21 (you can see from the screenshot on the left that I made this collage on 1/23). BUT it pretty much sums up my point. MLK Day was freeeeeeezing and I was feeling a little jealous of my hometown's weather (the picture on the right). Since Coe had the day off, I cozied up with my blanket and did some homework for a while. Later that night, I braved the cold and went to a showing of a documentary that highlighted issues of race within United States society, even 50 years after MLK. Talk about mind-blowing! It made me that much more passionate about securing equal rights for all, not just in words but in actions.

Valentine's Day

This lovely note left on my door was the courtesy of my friend Leeann. She's a total sweetheart, and she obviously knows me well. Every day at the end of Honors Composition class, I would struggle for a solid 30 seconds to put on, button, and buckle my coat. Let's just say motor skills aren't my forte. My truest loves at college are the friends who know my weaknesses and think I am the bomb dot com anyway. What a great Valentine's Day.

St. Patrick's Day

L to R: Sara, Kristen, Sam, me, Alexis, and Kobe

I was eating a bowl of Lucky Charms in honor of the occasion when a bunch of friends came into the Writing Center and said, "We HAVE to go get Shamrock Shakes!" I also had a choir performance in an hour. So because of course the best decision is to take your chances getting to the performance on time AND destroy any chance of singing well with lactose-throat-coat, I said, "Ok, cool." I made it to the show on time (c'mon, I'm not THAT irresponsible) and had a darn good St. Patty's Day to show for it. The best part by far was Sara yelling out the car window, "HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!!" to every pedestrian she saw.

Easter 

This Easter actually wasn't very fun at all. A really awesome person and a good friend died 2 days before Easter this year. My friend Sam and I were at Leeann's house for the weekend, excited for home-cooked meals and some time off campus. I got a heartbreaking phone call on Saturday morning telling me about Joel's death. Saturday was filled with more tears than I thought I had. Sunday, we dyed a few eggs and even went on Leeann's family's annual Easter egg hunt to try to distract ourselves. It hurt so much, but I was beyond appreciative for the support and care of my friends and classmates. Rest in peace, Joel... I am so glad I had the chance to know you.

Arbor Day

James and I leaving for Sinfonia formal!

A Ha(y)(i)l(l)e(e)(ey) sandwich: Haylee on the left and Hailley on the right!

If you ask me, Arbor Day is pretty awesome... so I'm going to include it. We were about a week away from finals and things were getting crazy. I submitted a paper 10 minutes before leaving for the Greek fraternity Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia's Formal with my friend James. The night was so much fun! We went bowling and laser tagging in our fancy get-ups, then we went to dinner at a nice Italian restaurant. The boys serenaded us with a beautiful song at the end of dinner. James was an absolute gentleman all night. I also got to see my Mama Duck Hailley for the first time since the previous semester, since she was in New York City for the spring. Good bowling, good food, good music, good friends... just what I needed to make it through the following week of finals.

Memorial Day

 

On Memorial Day, I wasn't even in the country. I was in Paris! You can read more about that adventure here. May 27 was our second-to-last full day in the City of Lights. Leeann and I visited Notre Dame and serendipitously made it just in time for mass. It was among the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed. We also walked around the Latin Quarter (our favorite part of the city) and ate delicious Parisian ice cream bars that I spilled all over myself.

Independence Day

L to R: Pebbles, Hummingbird, Skye, Toes, and me (by camp names, of course!)

On the 4th of July, I was a mutton in a Girl Scouts camp rodeo! Let's just say I'm baaaashful when it comes to how fast I can run with an 8-year old on my back. ;) 4th of July has always been among my favorite holidays... I love celebrating my United States culture and remembering the freedoms I have. Plus I can never resist a good hamburger! This year was especially cool since I got to share the holiday with some of my international friends. Pebbles is from Nepal and Skye is from Scotland. I loved watching them get to experience all the joys of face-painting US flags on their faces and singing loudly to country music. U-S-A!

My birthday!! 

Jake and I chillin' at a park in Denver

Celebrating 20 at the D-Bar

I got to spend my 20th birthday (whoa!) with my friend Jake. I drove to Denver and we strolled around a park for a while and then around the mall. I ordered a very large Earl Grey Tea latte and Jake and I got to catch up on life. It's hard to stay connected with friends back home when you spend most of your time in Iowa, but it's totally worth it. We went to the D-Bar for dinner and my raspberry-something-or-another desert was heavenly. Driving back to camp included some car trouble, but Jake was super nice and helped me figure it out. Awesome initiation to my 20s!

Labor Day

 Sam and I being ourselves

Every year as a Coe College Writing Center consultant, we have a Labor Day Staff Retreat. Last year we went to a cute little campsite and sang about writing center theory and pedagogy around the campfire (kind of). This year, we had our retreat at Coe. My travel-bug was a little sad, but ultimately it ended up being a great chance to gear up for the school year. It was my first time seeing a bunch of writing center friends since the previous school year. I also got to meet all the new first-years and see what wonderful attributes they would bring to our community. It was encouraging to see how my conferencing skills had improved since the year before when I was that new first year. I felt more confident and more ready than ever to bring Writing Center conferences to a new level of awesome.

Halloween 

Sara and I enjoying pumpkin bagels with pumpkin cream cheese in the Chicago airport

Jumping for joy on a beach in Tampa, Florida

This Halloween, I dressed up as one of those super lucky people who gets to visit the beach right when the temperatures in Iowa start to drop. The Coe Writing Center (which seems to be a common trend in this post) attended a peer tutoring conference in Tampa, Florida. You can read even more about that on my Coe Writing Center blog post. Basically though, it rocked. I can almost still feel the sand between my toes...

Veteran's Day

I received this nice little treat from one of my residents circa 11/11, so I will count it. I love being a Resident Assistant! I have a group of wonderful women on my floor who I know are going to accomplish so much in their time at Coe and beyond... Plus they are super sweet and give me bubble wrap. I appreciate the opportunity to give back to the Coe community a little, even if it's just by virtue of securing a radio for our bathroom and making sure our building stays safe.
Also on this day, I got to wish my sister Amanda a happy birthday and her son, Eli, a happy birthday too. Can't believe he is already 2!

And that brings us to now....

Thanksgiving

FaceTime with my parents... gotta love technology.

Watching America's Funniest Home Videos with Leeann

 I'll admit, I was NOT thrilled about spending Thanksgiving in Iowa. It's hard to watch everyone you know go home while you think about the consequences of choosing an out-of-state school when plane tickets are ridiculously expensive. But nevertheless, I had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Leeann and her family were nice enough to have me over for the day. We made almond-bark-peppermint-sprinkled pretzels, which were adorable and delectable. (The pretzels were shaped like Christmas trees!) I hung out with her family all day, helping chop broccoli for the casserole and watching TV like a pro. Later that night, we went to her aunt's house for the family dinner. There were a whole lot of people there, and every single one of them was so welcoming. I ate about my weight in turkey and pie... and I'm still working off the food coma.

And that's my year in holidays. It's been different -- at times sad, at times happy, at times somewhere in between. Ultimately, it's been a year to treasure. Thanks to everyone who helped me celebrate.

More Life Edits: Girl Scouts Camp

Ok friends, it's time for the post you have been passionately awaiting (hehe) for months. Girl Scouts camp. I said a boom-chick-a-boom.

This is a (delayed) continuation of my previous post entitled "Life Edits." Over the summer, I had a series of new life events that radically changed my perceptions of myself. You should read about my trip to Paris and then come back to this.

20 hours after I took my final exam for Paris May Term, I started a brand new summer job. I'll be honest: the turnaround time was rough. I literally finished the exam, hopped in a car, boarded a plane, landed in Colorado, drove home, unpacked, repacked, said hi to Mom and Dad, tried to sleep for 2 hours, actually slept for 1 hour, woke up at 5 AM, and drove 2 hours to Girl Scouts camp. Thank goodness they had coffee and yummy breakfast available when I got there.

Besides the hurried nature, it was incredibly hard to see my home for the first time since March and immediately leave it. It was a lot like getting one potato chip and THEN being told you can't have any more. I get it -- I'm in college and I have to grow up -- but that didn't make it hurt less. I was denying the familiar for this abstract concept of "adventure." In case you haven't been getting your literature on lately, "adventure" doesn't always turn out well (Bridge to Terabithia, anyone?). Sure, the worst adventures make for great stories... but not really for great experiences. Everything in me was crying out to stay home and make French toast with my mom and cuddle with my adorable puppy... but there was another voice too that said, "You'll never know until you try." I was conflicted, I was more homesick than ever, and I was exhausted.

Still, as I sat down next to Tick Tock and Emerald (camp names are so fun), I was overwhelmed by the hospitality of everyone around me. I could tell most of the counselors knew each other already, but that didn't stop them from talking to me. Tick Tock jumped into service mode and activated my watch (just think about the coincidence of that for a second), Twinkle showed me where the bathroom was, and Cream gave me the biggest hug in the history of ever. They didn't even judge me when I told them I had no clue how to start a fire. That's true Girl Scout acceptance right there.

Regardless of their non-judgmental attitudes, though, I was still judging myself. Sad truth: I like to pretend like I have my life together. I like to know lots of things, and I especially like to know more than everybody else does. Incompetence is the worst, most shameful feeling for me. And here I am in this job where I have no idea what I'm doing and where reading a book isn't really going to help me out. Trust me, I tried reading the staff manual under my sleeping bag with my flashlight while everyone else was asleep. I didn't know how I was going to shake the feeling of "Oh my gosh I don't know what I'm doing and I don't know why you hired me."

Over the course of staff week, I shook off a little of my incompetence. But that's not what this post is about. Shaking off incompetence doesn't help us improve, it just makes us unnecessarily feel better about ourselves. Embracing the incompetence is what truly makes us stronger. It's weighty, but it's worth it. The first week with campers taught me to do just that, but not really by my own choice. What could go wrong did go wrong -- from bee-stings to illnesses to freaking terrifying thunderstorms to total meltdowns. I learned to keep on keepin' on with a smile and a song because if I didn't laugh, I would cry. Most of all, I learned to ask for help. I learned to admit to myself that I don't know everything and that I don't have to be the best -- I just have to be better than I was before. It unleashed an undiscovered side of me -- the super fun, goofy, can't-care-won't-care side. I led units about Scottish dancing when we all know dancing is not my forte... and my arts and crafts were totally ridiculous. But the campers reveled in that side, and I did too. Being bad at things never felt so good.

Eventually, I learned to build a fire and to prevent 8-year-old meltdowns. I was a master at coming up with impromptu entertainment for the campers during awkward breaks. I even drove through the mountains to go home for the weekend in the dark without cell phone service... and 5 hours later, safely arrived... That's a story for another day. I had friends that made camp not quite home, but pretty darn close. I was feeling good and I realized how cool 8-year olds are. The best week of all was the last week. I didn't have high expectations. My birthday was the Sunday the campers arrived and for the first time I wasn't celebrating with my family. I had a pep talk with myself: "One last week. Make it the best. Prove yourself. They deserve it, and you deserve it." I was determined to be a high energy, low stress ball of wonder for 22 campers enrolled in Deep Space camp. Let me just say... best. theme. ever. We played glow-in-the-dark capture the flag. We made moon pies. We planned a space mission. We drew the planets to scale. And even in my lack of all things craft, I taught them to make alien-protection hats which we wore collectively to the dining hall.

The thing about camp that makes it so magical is that everything falls into place when you let it. You smile a lot, you sing until your lungs can't handle it, and you play games like it's your calling in life. You're open to new ideas, plans, and stories. 8-years olds understand that competence follows learning, learning follows wonder, and wonder comes when we stop stressing about every tiny little detail. Life happens, but whether we follow it or wallow in our perceived incompetence is totally up to us.

Besides that, camp was the one thing in my life that wasn't about me. It was about something so much bigger. College is so self-based: getting good grades, advancing my skill sets, learning about my opportunities. It's exhausting! At camp, it's about 200 imaginative, loving, intelligent girls. One of the most impacting moments of my life was when a camper with hydrocephalus (an intellectual disability caused by abnormal accumulation of cerebrospinal fluid in the brain) was about to say good-bye. With big tears in her eyes, she told her mom, "I don't want to go home." She clinged to me and sang farewell camp songs. Her mom whispered appreciatively, "Thank you." That moment was more beautiful than getting an A any day.

I'm so glad I took that risk and endured the 5 AM morning... it means I got to spend many more 5 AM mornings with the most amazing people influencing the most amazing future generation (cheesy, but true). I couldn't be more appreciative.

Aaaaand 24 hours after I finished my job at camp, I left to go back to college. Quick turnarounds should be on my resume. Read about that in my next post... I like to keep you on your toes. ;)

Life Edits

Just when I think I have figured myself out, BOOM! I find out something new. It's a wondrously frustrating process, kind of like holding a book you've written hot off the press only to think about how you accidentally left out chapter 5. You suddenly have to fix the omission -- after all, the story makes no sense without it -- but it's messy. Lots of calls to the publisher, minor changes to other chapters, and money.

The past 4 months have wrangled me through three entirely separate adventures, all of which illuminated a new side of myself. I'm mesmerized by how much I have grown... not necessarily as an asset to the world, but as an asset to myself. I know my strengths and my struggles, and I feel more ready to tackle whatever life hands me. I am finally accepting the fact that my life novel needs to be published electronically because there will always be additions.

Adventure 1: Paris
They say every romantic has to take a trip to Paris, for it is the city of lights and love. So, I stuck around Coe College for a couple weeks after the academic year ended, then I boarded a flight to form my own opinions on this fawned-after city.

**A necessary Paris preface: I applied for Paris May term as a rebound for a different May Term when I was not accepted. I was rightfully not accepted, considering I wrote among the worst application essay of my entire life. (Literally, I made Lucky Charms references. It was awful.) I wanted to go to on the other May term really, really badly and took it pretty hard when I didn't make it in... both because I wanted to go (duh) and because it unleashed an ominous feeling of "you will never achieve your dreams." Applying to Paris was my way of fighting back that feeling and proving to myself that life is what I make it.**

The days leading up to Paris were stress-cry-central. I didn't know how to exchange my currency. I didn't know how much or how little to pack, or why the heck they were saying my hair dryer wouldn't work. And my wardrobe needed some serious work, considering jean shorts and t-shirts in Paris just weren't going to make the cut.

I didn't sleep a wink on the flight. The French man next to me didn't say a word, but had his night mask and ear plugs neatly arranged in a leather pouch. "Is this how all Parisians are?" I thought. He seemed a bit pretentious, but not rude.

The flight ended and we all gathered to get on the shuttle bus... which never arrived. Two hours later, jet lagged and sweaty, we decided to go the metro route, despite the advice again and again to never go on the Paris metro with backpacks or suitcases. 17 people, 30 bags, 1 metro, 4 French speakers. Bienvenue à Paris...

That evening, I felt congested and sore. Of course, this is when I would get sick. I trudged my way through one chapter of the eight we were supposed to read that evening. Great way to start the semester, I thought, not reading 90% of the required readings. No wonder I didn't get into the other May term. 

Being sick with a language barrier and no sense of navigation (small-town-girl-problems) was intimidating, but only for the first few days. The grandeur of what I was learning seemed to make to block out all the struggles.

I can't possibly explain the splendor of each site, but I'll briefly explain three. 

The Louvre. Oh my gosh. I was speechless, partly because of how inspiring it was, and partly because I still was super congested. I never saw myself as an art connoisseur, but the Louvre nearly convinced me to become an art history major. I walked through the museum with Savannah (who is an art history major), musing about life and purpose and meaning. My favorite was Cupid and Psyche by Antonio Canova.

Seeing it three-dimensionally made it much more real. Psyche is collapsing from opening a vile from the underworld, and Cupid is there to gently nurture her back to health. It seems so soft, so emotional, and so forgiving. It reminds me that mistakes are inevitable, forgiveness is beautiful, and love is strong.

Then, there was Notre Dame during mass. I visited many cathedrals during the trip, but always just wanted to hear them resonate with sound. The sound freed the thoughts that had fluttered in that cathedral since it was built. It was like the reflections of thousands were bouncing off the walls, wishing for me to catch them.  I felt liberated. 

The final hoorah took place in the Latin Quarter -- layers and layers of history wrapped up in intellectual serendipity. There was a new little shop to buy scarves in or a crepe stand. With the University of Paris located there (since the 17th century, I might add), it felt like the Parisian version of a classic college town. The last full day of the trip, I decided to wander off on my own. (Yes! Bravery! Adulthood!) I stopped at Shakespeare and Company, a famous English-but-Parisian bookstore. I leafed through every section, trying to find the perfect book, for nearly two hours. Time suspended when I opened a book from the library section of the shop to find a sealed envelope. "To the one who is looking for..." it read. I wanted to know, but I couldn't open it. It would be wrong. I was not looking for it. I placed it gently back between the pages, hoping the best for whoever found it. 

Of course, my friends didn't let me off that easy. We went to dinner in the Latin Quarter that evening at a fancy, three-course-plus restaurant. I ordered escargot, canard, and crème brûlée. It was the best meal of my life. The waiter even explained to me how to get my escargot out of the shells and laughed when I couldn't do it. A little ways in, I told them my Shakespeare and Co. story, and they demanded I go back and open the note. So we finished the meal and sprinted to the shop, opened the book, and cautiously opened the note. It was a poem written in Lithuanian about fate and chance and Paris. And the second time, I really was looking for it.

So here's what I learned about myself.  I am three-dimensional, much like Cupid and Psyche, and I am much more beautiful when I am seen in that form. I love art. I have a deep sense of reflection for the past and present. I love the bustle of a city mixed with the reverence of a cathedral. I can overcome language barriers. I live for serendipity. I believe in laughter during fancy meals. I get sick at really inconvenient times. I stink at sleeping on airplanes. I should plan an extra 30 minutes for getting lost.. sometimes intentionally. I am adventurous. I don't always have to be looking for the answers to open the letters because we spend our whole lives looking for instead of looking at. 

I learned to stop looking for who I am, and instead to look at who I am. She may be a work in progress, but there is always room for edits.

I am presently untitled. 

Adventures 2 and 3 to come when I am not falling asleep on my futon. :)

Home.

I am grateful for the many places I have slept over the past few months. The hanging bed of my dorm room, the firm but fancy bed of a Parisian hotel, the mattresses of cozy cabins at camp, and even a wooden deck that accommodated my falling-apart sleeping bag.

I have slept many places, but I have only called one place home.


Home is where my mom unabashedly laughs at every sassy comment I make, even if it's not actually funny.

Home is where my dad makes random references to movies no one has seen... and I remind him that his unknown movie reference has no connection to the conversation. And then he replies, "I know, I am the King of Random."

Home is where my brother is tinkering on some piece of technology that has recently broken, usually per request of Dad.

Home is where Mom and Dad show me endless videos of my 2 year old nephew and beam at the fact he can say "Gramma."

Home is attempting to hold a Pomeranian whose heart rate is faster than the rate at which we misplace the scissors... in other words, really fast.

Home is a grouchy cat that growls and hisses until I am busy, then turns into a purring pal.

Home is a US map tacked to the wall with haphazard circles on cities I have visited and lots of room for dreaming.

Home is having my make-up locked into the bathroom 10 minutes before I need to leave because my brother decides to take a shower. Home then turns into me yelling for him to "PLEASE GRAB THE BLACK BAG ON THE SINK," repeated until he turns off the water and understands what I am saying.

Home is French toast, Tuna Helper, Fazoli's, and popcorn.

Home is pretending like Mom won't always win the endless rounds of the card game Nerts. And then watching her win every round.

Home is security. Home is freedom. Home is where my heart is happy, my intellect is sharp, and my potential is ostensibly unbounded.

Home is Mom's tear-stained shirt as I yet again say my good-byes, complete with a quivering but sincere smile.

Home is the realization that adventures are worth it, but a safe haven is always waiting.

I am grateful for the many places I have slept over the past few months. Still, I truly love and cherish my home.

Fish and Trash: Boston Marathon

Nine months ago, I began an adventure through the streets of Boston, Massachusetts. I went to the Boston State House, ate at Cheers, and even stood on the street where the Boston Massacre ensued over 200 years ago.

I was not highly impressed. Granted, it was a sweltering 90 degrees outside with higher humidity than this Colorado native was accustomed. I wore my pink canvas shoes and a lined shirt that seemed to turn my body into lava. The city smelled faintly of fish and trash. I had begged to go, so I felt guilty complaining, but I just wanted to get to the hotel and take a nap.

As I passed a vendor, I considered buying a hoodie that said a simple BOSTON across the chest. It was only $15. "Nah," I thought. I liked Maine more. That's what I wanted to take away from the trip. I wouldn't need the hoodie.

Now, I am hardly beginning an adventure through the streets of Boston. I am beginning a droning march where every article is harder to read than the last. Every breath seems to catapult my body into a new array of emotions, a new set of fears, a new place where I shatter.

I only smelled fish and trash. The victims of the Boston Marathon bombing smell fish mixed with blood, trash mixed with mangled bodies. Spectators of the race became permanent participants of the tragedy. Participants of the tragedy became permanent spectators of the race. Chaos. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is right.

Scariest of all is that when I saw the horrific update light up my phone screen, all I saw were words. The horror was placed into a neat, giant file of "Recent Gut-Wrenching Experiences, A-Z." Aurora movie theater. Sandy Hook Elementary. The death of two close friends within a year and a day.

More than anything, I wish I would have bought that hoodie. I wish I could smell the fish and the trash strongly. I will not give into the pressure to be apathetic. I will not give into the fear of feeling. I will not catch my heart when it falls against the concrete of these excruciating experiences. This is not just a phone update. It is a call to fix wrongs and to extend compassion.

From Boston Massacre to Boston Marathon, we will remember.

Merge!

Confession: Driving scares the bejeebees out of me. It always has. Whoever popularized the idea of sitting in an enclosed box filled with highly flammable gasoline traveling at very fast speeds... with thousands of other people doing the same exact thing? Oh, right. Henry Ford. Good going.

Much to my dismay, I quickly learned that driving is a necessity. As much as I wish that I could just walk everywhere, that is not much of a way to get anything done. There is a reason why society has adopted a different route... literally.

I can remember one specific instance when my sister Amanda was first learning to drive. We lived in the (very) small town of Eads, Colorado, but we were in Pueblo for our oh-so-fun biannual dentist appointments. Amanda needed to get back onto the interstate. His heart racing at the thought of his teenage daughter driving in a much bigger city than she was accustomed, my dad yelled, "Amanda! Merge!" as she approached the end of the acceleration lane.

Think before you speak, Dad.

He meant "Yield."

Poor Amanda didn't quite know which choice to make. Thankfully, no accidents resulted.

Amanda's tendency to merge quickly is one that I see often on a figurative level, especially in college. Students are anxious to "play with the big leagues." They merge quickly onto the fancy new interstate of adult life... and most are lucky enough not to have an accident.

Recall what I said about being terrified about driving. Yeah, merging quickly is not my problem. Rather, I sit in the acceleration lane for too long, annoying the drivers behind me endlessly. My father's accidental instructions to Amanda should have been directed toward me, several years later.

And yes, this analogy does carry alllll the way through this little post. In my college experience, I have been afraid to merge. I have held onto my small-town life experiences at the end of the acceleration lane because I am afraid of an accident. I am afraid of hurting myself or others because of the choices I might make in haste.

The most ironic thing is that the only car accident I have ever been in was in the middle-of-nowhere Iowa. There was little traffic. I was in the passenger seat, but I was unconcerned for my safety. It was the kind of driving that I consider manageable and easy for anyone. I quickly changed my mind looking down confusedly at a windshield spread over my lap in a totaled car at the bottom of a ditch.

Accidents will likely happen, on the interstate or not. I will make mistakes in life. But seriously, it's time to merge.

As Meg Cabot so eloquently said in The Princess Diaries, “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all."