On my 100th consecutive day of writing

Things are going to look a little different around here from now on...or at least for a while.  No, I'm not talking about the fact that my place of residence, school, and home are going to be different than they have been.  That's a given--my personal life is in upheaval.  What I'm talking about though is the fact that from now on I won't be writing on this blog every day...or at least I don't think so.

The entry you are now reading marks my 100th consecutive day of writing.  This whole "write something everyday" thing started as a personal challenge.  It was my attempt to convince myself that I could make a plan and stick to it.  I make lots of plans and stick to them, but they're never plans that are exclusively intended to enrich my personal life.  Most of the time they're professional in nature.  Deadlines to meet.  Papers due.  Grades to make.  I'm good at that.  But when it comes to my personal life I stink at sticking to goals.

But this time I did it. I wrote something everyday.  I did it for me.  I didn't miss a day, even on the days when I couldn't think of anything to write or on the days when I couldn't find internet or really would have preferred to do something else.  I did it.   And I feel great about it.   I stuck to my goal and I did it for me.  Only me.

But also for me,  I need to not write everyday.  What started as a way of enriching my life and doing something relaxing and good for me, is verging on being a daily chore.  It's not there yet, but it's verging on it.  And, like Michael Phelps, I want to end on a good note (but will also likely reprise my career--fair warning).   So now, in line with my original goal to do something good for myself, I'm going to stop writing everyday.  I'm still planning to write regularly, but for my stress levels, sleep schedule, and all around well-being, it won't be daily.  I need a break.  I need some days off. For me.

For those of you who have been reading along for the past 100 days of adventure, I thank you so very much.  I love that you've taken the time to read my thoughts and am so appreciative.  For those who haven't, welcome along on the ride.  A slightly less consistent ride, but hopefully a long, leisurely one.

So remember, do things for yourself. And if the things you're doing for yourself turn into things that aren't for you anymore, stop doing them.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On a poem (a la 5 year old Josie living today)

A poem (a la 5 year old Josie living today):

I am exhausted.

I am about to pass out.

It is 11:17 PM and I just ate dinner.

Dinner was just purchased in fully prepared form at a grocery store.  Nothing else was open.

I packed my entire life into a truck today.

I watched my father pack my entire life into a truck today

I drove 500 miles.

I drove 500 miles with my mother in the car.

My mother rants.

My mother tells great stories.

Trucks are evil.

Beds are good.

I will sleep.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On honesty with ourselves

The recent death of Robin Williams has brought the disease of depression to the forefront of our collective awareness.  According to reports, he was suffering from depression when he died by suicide.  Depression, as I have seen in many of my friends, family, and clients, is a terrifying, slow-working, and highly pervasive disorder.  It's painful for those suffering and for those who love the sufferers.

That being said, the interesting thing about depression is that all it is (and I don't mean this as a minimization of the disease, I mean it as a normalization) is an extreme expression of feelings we all have.  We all feel sad, down, unmotivated, distressed, unloved, and unworthy, from time to time.  If you're not feeling one of those things at least once a day you're definitely in the minority.

The other thing about depression is that it does not discriminate.  It can affect anyone, including the people who we see as the happiest and funniest.  In fact, it's the people who come off as funny, happy, lively, jovial (like Robin Williams) who are often covering up feelings of sadness and depression.  We all do that to an extent--cover our true feelings with a facade or with jokes.  But the problem with that is that then we're all walking around with facades of ourselves shown to the world instead of our true selves.  We cover our feelings and thoughts, the true ones, with joking, sarcasm, and pleasing others.  And that means we're keeping all of that bad stuff, the negative feelings we have, inside.  We never release them.  And that's unhealthy for us.  That leaves us simmering in that negativity.  And negativity is poison.

So I challenge you, whoever you are reading this, to be honest with yourself and others.  Don't cover up your true self, your opinions, your feelings (negative or positive), with a facade.  Be you.  And be you for you.  Not for the pleasure of others. You deserve it.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On my thoughts before change

A  few words on the eve of my departure for my new home.

I'm having more mixed feelings about this move than any other experience I've had in my relatively short life.  With all of my previous major life transitions-- first day of kindergarten, first day of high school, graduation from college, first job, summer away on internship, high school graduation, college graduation-- I've taken part in mass movements, whether they be exodus or arrival, in unison with my peers.  All major changes were, yes, big life events, but completely scheduled and expected.  You anticipate that when you go to college you will graduate in 4 years, so when you do, yeah it's sad and slightly earthquake-like but you were prepared. You knew it was coming. You were just one of many before and to later come.

So, for the first time in my life, a major life event of mine is not only unscheduled, but also completely independent.  I was supposed to be in my previous program, where my former cohort-mates remain, for another 3 years.  I was supposed to walk the stage to be hooded in unison with them.  As a member of a group.  Now I'm a bit out of sync.  I'm not going to graduate with that cohort and I'm not going to graduate with my new one (I'm entering with credits) so I'm really a lone wolf here. I'm going to have to tread my own path.  Find my own way. Be my own person.  An exodus and arival of one.

That's a little daunting, but it's also really exciting. I have the opportunity to be special.  To be different.  To be a trailblazer. To be a role model. To do things in an unexpected and unique way.

I may be a party of one, but also get the chance to be one unique party.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On baby fever

I attended a baptism today and in doing so came to a realization.  I came to the realization that everyone loves babies.  Not a groundbreaking realization.  And really something that I cognitively understood already.  But today, instead of just knowing it, I saw it...you know, seeing is believing and all.

So there I sat in a church with 40 or so other adults and no children except the one to-be-baptized infant.  For the entire 45 minute ceremony all 40 adults' attentions were focused on that one infant.  When I say that our attentions were focused, I do not mean that our attentions were focused on him indirectly via the ceremony in his honor.  No, I mean that every single adult was watching the child, "awwwing" at the child, whispering under his/her breath that the child is "so adorable," giggling at the child's rambunctiousness. For 45 minutes.  The poor pastor was speaking for those 45 minutes but may as well have been speaking to a wall.

And then, after the baptism was complete we first applauded, and then (in unison) did that strange baby-voiced "yaaaay" accompanied by exaggerated and stiff baby-like clapping.  It was terrifying to see a bunch of grown adults cater to this one child, all at one time, as if their lives depended on his every move.  As if him toddling up and down the stairs of the altar was akin to Marie Curie's discovery of Radioactivity.  As if, if we missed it, the entirety of the future world would completely reform.

Anyways, all of this creepy attention and baby-talk made me wonder why it is that adults are so fascinated and laser-focused on infants.  Perhaps it's an evolutionary response.  Everyone loves babies because if we didn't they wouldn't be cared for and humans would become extinct.  Perhaps its a fascination with the infant mind which is so vastly different from the adult mind.  A fascination with what we all once were and how we all once thought and behaved. A selfish interest if you will. Perhaps it's the Peter Pan syndrome piece of us all that is jealous of the youthfulness that infants exude.  Jealousy of the possibility and potential that exists within an infant.  Potential that is long gone for most adults.  Or perhaps it's everyone's need to feel needed.  Infants are the most needy kinds of humans out there, and thus fulfill that need by simply existing.

Whatever it is, it's something.  There's something about babies that makes them irresistible to adults.  That fulfills some sort of need in adults.

It's fascinating to watch...the babies and the adults.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On some more random thoughts of the day

It's a random thoughts of the day post!  You're welcome.

1.  My family really values their sleep.  My brother slept until 2 pm and is in bed already at 11:00 pm.  My sister came home for the day from med school and proceeded to sleep on the couch for 2 of the 3 hours she was home.  My father was also passed out on the chair near her for a large portion of her nap time.  None of these individuals have earned their excessive amounts of sleep with any sort of physical or mental exertion.  The closest they have come is lifting a coffee cup to their mouths.

2.  Golf is both highly fascinating and highly boring.  I think the game itself is pretty darn boring to watch, but somehow, the media turns a tournament into a fascinating event complete with special interest stories, high drama, and way too much discussion about Tiger Woods, who, in my opinion can go suck and egg.

3.  When people judge the concept of "fandom" and "fan culture" (which usually includes close watching of television shows, fan fiction, and excessive amounts of tumbling, and is generally participated in by females) they lose their right to watch half-time shows, participate in fantasy football, watch post-game shows (or Sports Center), read the Sports section of a newspaper, or really do anything relating to sports aside from playing them and watching the games themselves.  Those who disagree can go suck an egg with Tiger Woods.

4. My mother and I drove the .1 miles to the ice cream stand on the corner in order to make it in time for their 10pm closing.  We barely made it.  We are also pathetically desperate for sweets and completely bad influences on each other.  But the Peanut-butter Cup flurry was sooooo good.

5.  The neighbors down the street host a big party every year (to which I am never invited).  It seems to get fancier every year.  This year, I kid not, it was sponsored by SKYY vodka.  SKYY's logo was prominently displayed on a step-and-repeat banner stationed behind a large amount of camera equipment in the driveway.  I live in suburbia, USA.  How does that happen?  And more importantly, why am I never invited?

6. My parents have a pool that I just swam in for the first time in a year.  I am fairly certain that my swimming in it also marked the first time anyone has swam in it all summer.  It's August.  That's just a waste.  A waste of time, money, effort, and especially of the chipmunk lives lost by kamikazi jump into the pool.

7. The 20 minutes that both of my siblings and I were in the same place today (and all conscious), were the best 20 minutes of my month.  No lie.  I love them a whole lot.

8. When each of my siblings and I were seniors in high school we began getting short lectures from my mother about how to be an adult.  The importance of paying bills on time.  The importance of cleaning dishes.  The importance of returning calls.  Today I realized that these short lectures, which we then called "ten second life lessons,"  have recently become much longer.  Ten seconds is now ten minutes.  When I shared this thought with her her response was, "that's because you've all failed."

9. My siblings and I were very strange, and apparently under-entertained as children, because we came up with some of the stupidest "games" I can imagine.  A list of names should suffice for elaboration.  Titles included:  Sunny and Precious, Ching Chong Chong is coming to get you, QB Sack, Beanie Baby football, and Toota Butt. Yes, pronounced "toot a butt."

10.  It's going to be really hard work keeping in contact with my friends from my old program.  I'm really bad at keeping in contact, but today I made my first "just calling to catch up" phone call to my best friend from there and it went well.  I may be able to handle this this time.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On perspective and junk

I've got a lot of junk.  I have no idea where it all came from.  Well, actually, that's a lie.  I know exactly where it all came from, and that's precisely the problem.  You see, I have collected things of various sorts throughout my life:  a teddy bear from the day I was born, ballet slippers I wore as a toddler, participation ribbons and trophies from elementary school, advertisements for shows I was in in high school, news paper articles I was featured in in college, and materials, lots and lots of materials, from my first two years of grad school.  I've been collecting stuff since the day I was born and I have been neglecting to throw things away since that same day, because everything seems to have an attachment to a time in my life that I can clearly remember and, apparently, that I would like to continue to remember.

And that brings me to this very day.  Today.  Three days before I am set to move away from my parents home (again) and to an apartment even further away than the one I just left.  I've been living away from home for about two years now, but I certainly didn't take everything with me when I left.  A ton of stuff stayed.  A ton of stuff that I'm now having to sort through for fear that if I do not, my parents will become so fed up with the stuff that they will take it upon themselves to chuck it all in one giant dumpster.  And I don't want that because despite the fact that most of this stuff is completely disposable, there are a lot of things that have a lot of meaning.  I've got photographs of friends, recordings of performances I was in, my first CD, posters of boy bands long forgotten. These are the things that matter to me.

But the interesting thing is that had you asked me two years ago I would have said that all of it mattered to me. Now, aside from the select few things, I really wonder why I kept most of this stuff.

It's amazing what a bit of distance and time will do because  now looking at it all I realize that there's more junk than matter.   With the distance and time has come perspective.  I've lived more.  I've experienced more.  I've realized that while I thought in 8th grade that a plastic cross necklace, prominently printed with "Jesus Loves You," was something important, to be saved and displayed on my dresser, now it's just a meaningless eyesore.  While the senior photo of a high-school acquaintance was a keepsake then, it's now just a nice image that I can access on Facebook.  While a screen-print fitted t-shirt from sixth grade was my very favorite in elementary school, now it's just a reminder of a fashion statement that I'm happy to have seen disappear.

Distance and time bring perspective, and apparently perspective brings full trash bags...and fresh starts.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On white coats, success, and failure

It's funny how sometimes the most useful and profound statements come from unexpected sources.  Christian Borle (of Broadway fame) one said that the best advice he was ever given was "Other people's successes are not your failures."

Today was my baby (she's only three years younger than me) sister's first day of medical school.  For anyone familiar with the medical professions educational system, with the first day of school in a medical profession comes something called a "white coat ceremony."  The white coat ceremony is intended to welcome new medical students into the medical professions.  There's a lot of pomp and circumstance (speeches and such), but the main event occurs when an actual licensed medical professional puts a white coat on the new student.  It's a very exciting time for everyone, especially parents and the incoming students.

Now, for weeks I have known of the coming of this event.  My family has been talking about it since January.  They all came home for it-- including my grandmothers.  We planned to attend together and then go for dinner.  The whole shebang.  So, since we've been talking about it for so long I've had a lot of time to think about it, and the more I thought about it the more reasons I came up with for why the ceremony is a bad idea.  I have lots of theories (read opinions), especially coming from a profession (psychology) that is so grounded in an understanding of power differentials and humanism.  When I thought about a white coat and what it symbolizes, I wasn't too  impressed.  What I concluded was that white coats are intended to define a power differential (those are never good), intimidate patients (they increase anxiety in patients), inflate egos (of the medical students), and celebrate something that has yet to occur (the whole ceremony is celebrating the fact that the students are simply at the school...I'm not sure they've earned the pomp and circumstance).

Well, being that I am the person I am, I shared these thoughts with my sister and parents.  Bad idea.  Of course my sister (who was about to participate in the rite of initiation) and my parents (who are both medical professionals who wear white coats daily) were not receptive to my thoughts.  But, that didn't stop me.  For six months I rattled on about power differentials, and patient care, and patient anxiety.  And I stand by those statements.  They're all true.  But today, as I rattled on about them while sitting in my seat before the ceremony itself, my mother called me out.  Said I was being too negative.  Said it sounded like "sour grapes" (which I assumed meant that she thought I was jealous).

Well...being called out made me think about it. Made me consider what my actual opinion was about the whole white coat thing.  Was I really arguing on the side of justice or was I jealous?  The words coming out of my mouth said one thing, that I was speaking out against an injustice, but my feelings, when I really dug deep, said another thing.  I realized that while I was saying that white coats are bad for patients and lack meaning, what I was really feeling was that I didn't like that a bunch of students were being recognized for making it to graduate school, when I never got the same recognition  making it to graduate school.  Future doctors get pomp and circumstance, but future psychologists get dropped of at the front door and fed a free sandwich for lunch.  And that's not fair.  That is an injustice.  But the problem isn't that my sister and other medical students get recognition for their hard work.  No, it's that other graduate students don't. And that's not my sister's fault, or anyone else's fault in the medical professions.  It's the other professions who are dropping the ball and not appropriately welcoming their students.

After concluding all of that I realized that Christian Borle's words were completely accurate.  My sister's successes (and her classmates) were not my failure.  Them getting accolades and recognition did not mean that people do not also think that I deserve those accolades and recognition, they just don't give them so outright to me (not that I should really feel the need for them).

I am not a failure simply because I don't wear a white coat, or walk across a stage, or get a fancy dinner.  While white coats do represent (at least in part) other people's successes, I've realized that they are not intended to represent my failure.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On fifty things that make me happy

Fifty things that make me happy:

1. Accapella music
2. Pasta e Fagiole made by my Father
3. A completed to-do list
4. Arriving home after a long trip
5. Sleeping in without an alarm set
6. Starting my day at 6am
7.  A good cup of coffee
8.  Slow mornings spent on the couch
9.  An accepted manuscript
10. A good homily at mass
11. Holding babies
12. Watching toddlers play
13. Learning something new
14. Intellectual conversation
15. Reading a whole book in one day
16. Fanfiction...lots of fanfiction
17. Juicy gossip
18. Clients making progress
19. Christmas Eve dinner (feast of the seven fishes)
20. Christmas day with my family
21. Family reunions
22. Traveling with friends
23. Professional conferences
24. Spending a night alone in a hotel room
25. Cooking for myself
26. Cooking for friends
27. A glass of pinot grigio
28. Grocery shopping
29. Shopping in open-air markets
30. Broadway shows that make me cry from start to finish
31. A good depressing movie cry
32. Telling people the thing they want to hear when it's truthful
33. Spending quality time with friends
34. My friend's successes
35.  Teen dramas on TV
36. Baking cookies
37. Seeing Girl Scouts selling cookies
38. A good sale
39. Petting soft animals
40. Florence Italy
41. Dancing like a fool
42. Karaoke
43. Singing a solo on stage
44. A perfect hair day
45. Gelato from GROM
46. Times Square at 6am
47. Spending long weekends with my family in my Brother's Brooklyn apartment
48. Pay day
49. My Teddy Bear
50. Christmas lights on my house

It's good to think about the good things sometimes...

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On sex, my beliefs, and why no one needs to explain theirs

There are a lot of things that I do in life simply because of my beliefs. They're usually not based on popular or appreciated beliefs.  I tend to like to be contrary, and my beliefs are no exception to this.  But I stand by my beliefs, despite their lack of popularity or tendency to buck the cultural status quo. I'm stubborn.

Along with being stubborn, I am, like I've shared before, a practicing Catholic.  A lot of people are Catholic.  In fact, Catholics comprise 16% of the world population and 50% of the Christian population. While the doctrines of the Catholic church are firm and specific, they are so firm and specific that they tend to be really hard to follow closely.  That's why, despite millions of people in this world calling themselves Catholic, you're likely to find vast differences in the beliefs and behaviors of practicing Catholics.  I am no different.  I subscribe to the majority of Catholic Church doctrines, but there are certainly those that I choose to interpret in my own way.  Some would call me a "cafeteria catholic" (a derisive label for those who pick and choose from church doctrine, like you might pick and choose what to eat from options in a cafeteria), but I just consider myself a discerning Catholic.  After all, the cafeteria serves some really unhealthy things, so it makes sense to avoid eating them.

Anyways, among the church regulations that I have chosen to subscribe to are some that fit really well within my social and cultural context (like loving my neighbor and going to mass every Sunday), others are a little more controversial.  Specifically, unlike the majority of my peers, I have chosen to save sex for marriage (OH NO SHE DIDN'T!).  Yup, I said it.  I'm a card-carrying (not really, but there are virgin cards for real), purity-ring-wearing (that I'm not kidding about) virgin.  I'm going to remain a virgin until I'm married.  And if I don't get married then I'll never have sex.  (WHAT!?)  

But really, all of that is tertiary to my actual point.  My point in sharing all of this is not to share my sexual preferences or to start drama.  No, my point in sharing is to explain that when I tell people all of this, they actually become personally offended.  They infer from my beliefs, that I am judging them for not agreeing.  They assume that I am a prude, or that because of my lack of sexual inexperience I just don't know enough to make a decision about whether or not I'd like to have sex before I'm married (which is a really convoluted way of thinking).  They think that I will regret my decision or change my mind.  That I am confused.  That I am blindly complying with a system that someone else created.

Well all of this is wrong.  I have made my own choices.  I have educated myself about these choices.  I will not regret these choices because I have been educated.  I am proud of my decision.  I am not ashamed.

What I've learned by having a counter-cultural belief is that my beliefs are no one else's business.  They are not for other people to judge.  They are my own.  I do not owe anyone an explanation.  My beliefs do not affect others in any way, but their criticism of my beliefs, and my intelligence via my beliefs, does affect me.

And through this I've realized that my opinions are irrelevant and unnecessary when it comes to other people's beliefs too.  What I think about their life choices is unimportant.  It will serve no purpose for me to question them and tell them that they are wrong.  It will help no one for me to explain why I disagree with them.  My beliefs are mine and their's are their's.  And that's the way it should be.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On unrelaxing vacations

My family is full of do-ers. We are action-, goal-, motivation-oriented individuals...five of them in one family. We like to be productive and when we're not moving toward achievement of something we feel a little aimless and things get a little out of hand. This makes vacations a little bit counter-intuitive for us. By definition a vacation is "an extended period of recreation, especially one spent away from home or in traveling." Well, we do okay with the "spent away from home or in traveling" part, but the "extended period of recreation" part is something with which we eternally struggle.

Most people, when they go on vacation, spend at least a part of that time doing non-productive, relaxing, and exclusively entertaining things--like sitting on a beach, or going to an amusement park. Things that are strictly intended for enjoyment. Well, sometimes we do that--our very favorite vacation place is Disney World--but most of the time we swing and miss.  By that I mean, most of the time there is very little to do with relaxation and enjoyment and more to do with education.  We go away for weeks at a time, but we go to places where we can learn something...usually history-related. We've gone to almost every historic city on the East Coast, but never once have we spent even so much as a day sitting on a beach.  We've been to Boston (the whole freedom trail), Baltimore (Aquarium), Washington D.C. (the entire Mall), Richmond Virginia (Civil War sites), New York City (Ellis Island), Philadelphia (Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, many others--my sister stated the words "aren't there any beaches nearby?"), Gettysburg (twice), Jamestown, Williamsburg, Charleston South Carolina, Toronto (Casa Loma and a few museums), the Thousand Islands (Bolt Castle), Niagara Falls...the list goes on.  

Anyways, we're an action oriented family and even vacations are consumed with learning opportunities and education.  This is great, in part because I've got a better grasp of Civil War History than most people in this world and because I even had the opportunity to travel at all.  But what I've realized in my life of educational vacationing is that sometimes, it's okay to be unproductive.  You don't always have to be learning, or doing, or producing.  Sometimes, it's okay, and even healthy, to do absolutely nothing, while sitting on a beach.

Not that I would know. 

What I do know, however, is the kind of wood on which the signers of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution sat.

Keep on thinking,

Josie

On a family tradition

Once a year I go to New Jersey for four days to spend the long weekend in a house with approximately fifty other people.  Those fifty other people consist of my immediate family, my first cousins, aunts and uncles, second cousins, third cousins, great aunts and uncles, and grandmother, all from my father's side. For some perspective, my third cousins are the children of my father's cousins and my great aunts and uncles are my father's aunts and uncles.  The house is big, but not big enough for fifty people to comfortable reside, so the floor gets good use.

When I tell my friends about this yearly event they are a bit confused.  Most people, after all, couldn't identify their third cousins in a line-up, let alone snuggle with them on a couch. We're close.  We know each-other's lives.  We get in each-other's business. We've got endless inside jokes. Nothing is sacred.  Nothing is private. For example, I was showering (which is a no-no due to the house using well water) in a shower with clear panes this weekend, when my cousin barged in stating that "she was going to jump in with me. Is that okay?" The only correct answer to that on cousin's weekend (the name for this long-weekend we spend together) is "sure."  So...yeah...privacy is non-existent.  

We spend our mornings sitting around the kitchen table, discussing each-others lives--who's got a significant other, who had a bowel movement in the past day, who was embarrassed by a parent in the last year, whose job is the most difficult--while eating breakfast.   At around noon, the breakfast food is changed out for lunch foods and the conversation reconvenes on the dock (the house is on a lake).  Conversation continues in a similar manner, discussion slightly shifting to that of body hair, vacations, non-present family members and yes, still bowel movements.  By dinner time, we're having these same conversations, congregated around plates of my grandmother's pasta, made with love in her suburban town-home, and some fancy salad created by my second cousin who was assigned the responsibility because even that exceeds the bounds of her domestic capabilities.  

Together we eat dinner. Cousins from white collar, upper middle class families, with second cousins and third cousins from upper class wealth, discussing all the same things over the same food. By nine o'clock we're playing games with the cousins from our own generations and listening to stories of times  passed told by members of older generations.  By one in the morning, the "adults" have retired to their rooms (they get beds) while the "kids" (actually all teens and twenty-somethings now) rush to find spaces on the floors in sleeping bags, and on air-mattresses, and on couches, according to seniority. 

The four days proceed like this--fairly predictable with the odd celebration of an engagement, or wedding, or expected baby.  A lot of talking, close quarters, uncomfortable sleeping, lack of showering, sun, chaos, and food. It's noisy and overwhelming and full of joy and love. A simple weekend, not at all about the entertainment or relaxation, and completely about quality time, maintaining relationships, maintaining family history, maintaining culture.  It's an experience that most families don't get.   An experience that I am privileged to have...

no matter how little privacy it enables me.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

These past few days I've felt a bit pressed for time, unmotivated, and just in need of a good break.  I'm on vacation with my family (if you can call it that...it's a family reunion with 50 people in one house for a long-weekend...not so relaxing), just moved from one city, and am now heading home for a few weeks before moving to a new city.  I'm exhausted, and stressed, and anxious.  All I need is a few days with no commitments and nothing required of me. But I've made a commitment to write everyday.  A commitment that I'm proud of, and do not at all regret.  It's been a wonderful growing and learning experience for me, but it's really freaking hard.

Today is my 88th consecutive day writing, and this past week, with all of its chaos, I've realized that it's really hard to find something to write about everyday.  To come up with something new for 88 days in a row.  Something to write at least a few paragraphs about. It's really hard to devote the time to it everyday when I'm tired, or when there are other things that I want to do.  It's really hard to find internet access everyday for a long enough period of time two write something.  Not easy. 

But that's not a problem that's exclusive to blogging and writing.  That's a problem that simply comes with being a person. With being an almost adult.  Life is full of commitments that we have to make.  And those commitments are great, but they also prevent us from being able to do whatever we want, whenever we want to.  That's the way of the world, and the reason that the world goes round.  

Because we make commitments and we stick to them.  

Keep on thinking,

Josie

Given an unfortunate lack of internet, I'm writing my daily entry with the minuscule digital keys of a phone today. Needless to say, this will be a brief entry.  I apologize in advance.

I believe that every person in this world should have a life motto. A philosophy by which they live day-to-day. A philosophy that they use to guide them through life. I've mentioned it before, but I'm a fairy religious person. Catholic to be specific, and the tenants of the Catholic religion guide most of my life, but two phrases--that are are seemingly contradictory-- are what it all boils down to. They've been on my mind a lot lately because things don't seem to be going according to plan on my life these days.  So, today I'm just going to lay them out for you, but at some point I fully intend to expound on them. At some point when I'm not typing on a keyboard the size of  a large big.

1. It is what it is.

2.  We all have choices in life and those choices have consequences.

Two very simple phrases, but two phrases that have completely changed the way I perceive my own life and the my interactions with others.  I'll never argue that they're mottos to live by for all people, but they sure work for me.

Keep on thinking,
Josie

On random thoughts of the day

Sorry guys and gals.  This week has been a bit crazy, so you get another bunch of random thoughts of the day!

1.  I think too much when I drive.  It gets really dark and twisty.  Not healthy at all.  I'll have to limit my long-distance driving in the future.

2.  Family is special because they're some of the few people in this world who can tolerate your stupidity.

3.  Large groups of family lead to large amounts of stupidity to be tolerated.

4.  I have a low tolerance for stupidity.

5.  Apparently I am more emotionally connected to buildings than people because I cried when leaving my apartment for the last time, but didn't cry when leaving my friends.  That can't be healthy or normal.

6.  Donuts are God's gift to the world and can immensely improve one's day.

7.  The only thing better than donuts is donuts with coffee.

8.  My laptop is an asthmatic mess.  It seems to sense when I need it to function most and decides, at that moment, that it no longer wants to function.  Like an insolent and obstinate adolescent.

9.  Driving in the dark is not something I enjoy...even when it's the only way to see someone I love.  My brother officially owes me big.

10.  Two heads are better than one, but three heads are one head too many.

Keep on thinking,
Josie