Twenty-Something-Or-Other

The 15th has come and gone and I'm alive!
My ever-building anxiety about leaving teenage dreams behind me dissipated as the clock struck midnight. Two decades have unraveled themselves in the context of my human being-ness, marked annually at 6:50 AM with an old family photography tradition.

Nineteen was fantastic. The love of my life and I rang in midnight (and 6:50 AM) with snores and smiles as we photographed the first few moments of my last teenage year. Laughter, as well as tears of mixed emotions permeated each month, marking my progress in academia, life, and love.

Twenty was different. Sisterly love enveloped me as I laughed my nineteenth year away. Different snores and smiles marked the wee hours of the morning, and 6:50 AM came and went as the tradition was slightly altered.

The last three months have been such a learning experience. The Environmental Field Semester JBS was phenomenal and outrageously frustrating, often in the same breath. My neophyte semester in KBG found me many new friends, strengthened bonds, and gave me a little sister. I'm beginning to learn how I fit into Brandeis, and how Brandeis is starting to fit into me. Emotionally exhausting, this semester has pushed my buttons and tested my fiber. Time will only tell if I pushed back properly.

For now, I say goodbye to EFS and goodbye to nineteen.
I'll carry both in my heart as I jump into twenty, as blind and terrified as ever.

live simply.

I Was Told My Soul Was Old.

To those of you who have kept my feet on the ground when I felt like I was floating away- I can't even begin to express my immense appreciation for you. Not only have you been my anchors through these rough seas, but the voice of reason that cuts through the arguments in my psyche. Very few have been there to catch me when I fall, put a band aid on my wounds, and put me back on the horse- I know it's a been a daunting task but every shoulder, hand and ear has been appreciated. Finding the words to begin to thank you is impossible, but my love and gratitude for you is endless. Truly, I can't thank you enough.



live simply.

I'm the Colorless Sunrise.

There are only so many things one could say about a situation like this. After realizing that the last few words on the matter have finally been dragged out, it's time that I start to get back to the Taylor Early Experience.

3 AM, hello again old friend. Insomnia has crept back into my life, marking its territory in my mind with ever-incessant introspection. For weeks now I have staved off restless nights; nicely compartmentalizing my thoughts into their own little boxes and tightly sealing the lids on the messy ones. Never have I ever been able to successfully been able to escape the broken record player that is my conscious, and until today I thought I was doing a stand-up job. It turns out I wasn't, and the seals on those boxes are easily broken.

This blog has never discussed the contents of these boxes.
This blog will continue to avoid the discussion, no matter how cathartic actually expunging all of those tiny little boxes would be.

In more or less words (and I can guarantee less), turning twenty is freaking me out, and I'm doing a rather poor job processing it. These loose ends are just unraveling so damn fast, and I'm not entirely sure what will be at the end of this string. Maybe I'll pull the seam further. Or maybe I'll weave the ends back together.

I think I'll go light a candle and pour myself a cup of tea instead.


live simply.

Metasequoia Glyptostroboides

I'm going to miss the hell out of this semester.


live simply.

I Can't Look at the Stars.

Disclaimer: Don't read this blog post if you want to read something coherent and uplifting.

I'm furious. Absolutely fuming.
This is the most stressful time of each semester and once again I'm finding myself dealing with things that are not only external, but pulling me in every direction away from my academics.
Granted, academia is a LARGE portion of the stress that is pushing me to pull away, but honestly? No one likes finals. No one likes the end of the semester. No one is social, no one is themselves. Nothing is rational; sleeping patterns are thrown out the window (even more so than usual), the library becomes home, and time becomes entirely irrelevant as every day blurs into the next.

That being said, with all the rules of finals life splayed for all to see, I'd like to take the time to vocalize some boundaries, some guidelines if you will, to how I operate in demoralizing times like this.
1) If I am in a bad mood, I am in a bad mood. Do not try to rationalize it, do not take offense to it.
2) Do not try to present new information or attempt to converse with me on anything of life-altering importance. It will not take precedent and I will not respond to it with my regular zeal.
3) I am not a real person. Do not treat me like I am and expect that I will act like one. This entirely includes number 2 on this list as well as conversation in general.

I am Brandesian. I am neurotic. I am not perfect. I am not a role model. I am not a trail blazer. And most importantly, I am human.
I try my best, and you know what? My best is often not quite good enough.
I've accepted that, and now you should too.



live simply.

You're Giving Me Such Sweet Nothing.

I've really been in the blogging spirit lately. It probably has to do with my default function; to procrastinate when I have a large task ahead of me. While plausible, it's more likely that it has to do with this clawing desire to spill my guts to someone, anyone.

Alas, this desire will never be satisfied, at least in this way.
I can't remember the last time I felt like this. I feel so... high school.

I'm not going to start blogging in code again, I had enough of that junior year with my LiveJournal phase. Instead, I'll post a picture. How do you like that for self control?

Seriously though, that exposé is dangerously close from becoming a real thing. Just another all-nighter and pint of Ben and Jerry's away... Or something like that.
Stay tuned.

live simply.

Just Ask the Axis.

I type this 2 AM post from a very chilly dorm room, wondering why my heat is no longer turning on, simultaneously contemplating the investment of flannel long underwear. A rainy, snowy, sleety day has left me feeling rather tired and terribly unfocused. Looking back on my day, I realize two things; I did not leave the comfort of my dorm except to step just outside the door today, and also that although productivity was somewhat limited in an academic scope it was fairly productive in a life-sense. My bed was made, my emails were sent, my i's were dotted and my t's were crossed. The nook that is Room 630 became less of a safe-haven and more of a hermit's dwelling. And quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

Fast-approaching, my twentieth birthday has certainly been on my mind. A meaningless age to many young Americans, 20 simply is to some the year before the year. What I don't understand is why it's not by default THE year. Sure, you can't order a glass of wine at dinner or buy you and your buddies a 6-pack (legally), but what's not to celebrate? No longer are you categorically associated with "teens" and the subsequent connotations. You have survived, thrived rather, for two decades in a time that has changed dramatically since our first steps. Floppy discs, the cell phone, the internet- so many things have come and gone within the last twenty years and you've experienced them. Few generations preceding ours grew up with such substantial cultural evolution and you still think that this twentieth year isn't the year to properly celebrate? Priorities, man. Priorities. 

Quickly glancing back, the tone of this post is somewhat hard for me to nail down. I realize that I am typing absentmindedly. I don't have quite the audience I had a few years ago but to those of you who happen to keep up with this blog, I apologize for the rambling. I do hope that although infrequent, these posts- musings rather- inspire some sort of internal discussion. In full disclosure, all this blog chops up to be lately is the overflow of personal battles that due to the public nature of this blog, (and my relatively shy tendencies regarding my personal life) I feel compelled to somehow censor.

One of these days I'll just do it. Pour my heart out. Put it all on the table. Or something like that.

Until then, decipher away all you want, dear readers. 

If I told you, I'd have to kill you.

live simply.

Twisting to the Sun and the Moon

This has been one of the longest, shortest, and all around life changing semesters.
I say longest and shortest in the same breath because just over two months ago I wasn't quite the same person I am today, and it didn't seem to take long to make the change.
These 12 weeks have slipped through my fingers- three weeks from now I'll be leaving teenagerhood behind and entering what I can only assume is adulthood.

20.

How on Earth did that happen?

Before I get too far into that topic (which I'll most likely save for the 15th), I want to relay a point.
Over the last few months, I've become much more familiar with a Robert Frost quote I penned many moons ago-

"In three words, I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

As much as I try, I cannot stop life from happening. The sun rises and so does the moon. There are some days that are longer than others, but life still goes on regardless if you're keeping with the times.

Looks like I have three weeks to tie my shoelaces, brush off my shoulders, and run like hell to catch up.



live simply.

Comeback King

Life used to be simple.
Playing outside in the sun.
Running from nowhere and from nothing.

If knowledge is freedom, how do we feel so much bliss in ignorant youth? There's gotta be a way to get back to that.

live simply.

Hurricane Rain Dance.

This post, contrary to its title, is not about the hurricane.
I'm just writing to write. And procrastinate.

Alright, it's a little about the hurricane.
It's just amazing to see pictures and news articles about how terrifying a storm can get and still find people smiling through the devastation. I think it really says something about a person or community when a ray of sunshine can still be seen through the clouds.

Sometimes it's hard to find that ray but as long as you keep searching, the sun is always shining somewhere.

live simply.

Stay Afloat.

93.

Really? That's it?

Alright. So you're telling me that heading to the library right after classes end at noon and staying there until I get kicked out at 2 AM two days in a row PLUS three all-nighters in four days is only worth an A-?

A-minus? Really?

How many more sleepless nights will it take for a 95?

What about for three more points? If I sacrifice the three hours of "sleep" left in the day, will you exchange a point for an hour? 

If any of you come up with a solution, feel free to shoot it my way. 

I'll be up all night.

live simply.

Goodnight, Moon.

I'm missing bedtime stories with Dad a lot lately.
A childhood ritual, my father used to read my baby brother and I one story before bed every night, and if we were lucky sometimes two. Sending us off to dreamland with "The Monster at the End of this Book" or "Stella Luna", Dad read all of our favorite stories with the best voices and never messed up.

College disregards bedtimes and those stories that I knew by heart (and still know almost as well) with unrelenting passion. How I find myself breezing through midnight and glancing at 1:00 AM night after night still throws me for a loop when I think back to my Dad, Rory, Grover, Stella, and all the rest of the bedtime crew.

If you happen to read this blog, or even if you have run into me at this late hour, you'll already know particularly well that I'm no "early to bed, early to rise" kind of gal. I like to think that the irony of my fear of the dark fuels my musings as night creeps its sleepy head into morning. Previous knowledge of my ever-present insomnia may have prepared you for said musings- not often can these blogposts be decipherable into pearls of wisdom unless you've been rehearsed in the Experience.

That being said, I'm still up.
I'm still awake.
I'm still pressing repeat on my homework playlist for the third or fourth time.
I'm still thinking.

I wish this blog had some sort of direction and cause. It's beginnings were so noble-
A year in the life of an eighteen-year-old who thought she had something to say.
An eighteen-year-old who was on a mission to be great, to be heard.
An eighteen-year-old with bedtime stories in tow and a sunrise always in sight.

2012 brought a nineteen-year-old, who dusted off the eighteen-year-old's once noble endeavor.
The nineteen-year-old smiled at the sunrise and greeted it with tired eyes.
This nineteen-year-old misses bedtime stories.

live simply.

4:15 AM

As I approached the crack of dawn this morning, I realized that battling the tossing and turning was futile. My old friend, Restlessness had dropped by for a visit. Every hour since I had fell into dreamland was marked with the memory of my alarm clock digitally mocking me. Not even two doses of melatonin could cure my racing thoughts. But what was I actually thinking about?

College.
Friendships.
Relationships.

Life.

With such heavy topics hanging over my head over the last few weeks, I wasn't surprised when 4:15 came around and I was wide awake. Finally giving in to my old pal I opened my laptop in search of a mindless activity I was hoping could lull me back to unconsciousness. 5:15 AM came and went without hesitation as I quickly ran out of things to watch and stumble upon. Defeatedly, I opened the gates and my mind poured incessant and raging thoughts into itself.

College. The current cause of both my joy and stress, my education has become the most encompassing and isolating experiences. Submerged into this wonderful program, 40+ hours a week keep me busy and surrounded with like-minded people. I am actually applying the information I am learning about in my classes immediately to my reality which, you could guess, is very rewarding. The rest of college though- the extracurriculars, sports, friends, all that jazz- is taking a decently-sized punch to the gut. I am more than pleased that I was accepted into the EFS; this is the kind of learning that everyone should be able to experience. There is just a delicate balance that must be achieved in order to be able to fit it all in, and quite frankly I'm dangling off the high wire.

With balance comes intact friendships. With dangling comes much me-time. Aside from the 14 that I see everyday and are growing to care much for, I spend a good portion of my time having to play catch-up. Over the last few weeks, the first thing out of many of my friends' mouths upon seeing them is "Where have you been all day?". Granted, I haven't printed out my schedule and hung it on my door, but it's an interesting feeling being perceived as MIA. Makes for interesting storytime, if you can match your schedules up.

Relationships are hard. Especially those that are of the long distance kind. And that is all I have to say about that.

Life?
That's a blog post for another restless night.


live simply.

Megabust

Man, nighttime travel is rough. I've been conditioned to head to dreamland between 10-12 each night, so hopping on a bus at midnight really puts a wrench in my circadian rhythms.

If you know me even a little, you are probably familiar with my anxious tendencies and my relationship with Murphy's Law. You may also be somewhat acquainted with my math skills (or lack thereof). Where an I going with this might you ask? Well, take a looksie at this here equation of doom:

Taylor + late Megabus - weather appropriate clothing - lack of arm and seat room + motionsickness = highly neurotic and ridiculously overreactive situation.

Doom and gloom I tell you!
Not necessarily, but I am pretty uncomfortable in only the first 15 minutes of my journey back to Beantown. Thus said, and my neurosis documented, I now present the ramblings of a 19-year-old with relatively mild insomnia. AKA the uncensored version of my nightly thoughts.


Home. Not a house, but a home. The majority of us understand this concept from the time we are wee ones, but defining the word in plain 'ol english is sometimes an interesting task. Sitting in the double-decker section of this dimly lit bus, the concept of home has never been clearer. Home is wherever you feel loved. You may not have a bed to sleep in, but if you have a hand to hold or arms waiting to hug you, you have a home.

Over the past year, I've discovered many homes. One, the most obvious, is my parents' house in my sleepy little town of Rollinsford. Roughly half of my life has now been spent in this town and community, and heading back to my Early clan is never an unfamiliar feeling.

Secondly, I've found a home in Brandeis. I have spent the last few months battling my own demons as well as the ones Deis has thrown at me, and although I don't always win, my heart can always find a reason to smile when I'm in Waltham. Most of that has to do with my friends, my sisters and the wonderful people I've met through the Environmental Studies department, but I'm not going to be picky about where my heart wants to hang out.

My third home is a bit mobile. Those of you with significant others will probably understand this home well. This home splits its time between New Hampshire and currently Pennsylvania, and it's the home I'm on a bus leaving. My heart always finds a home in PJ's, and I'm so thankful that his heart finds a home in mine as well.

I think this kind of home applies to friendships as well; love is pretty enveloping like that. Have you ever had the kind of friendship that feels like no time has passed between the last time you and your friend were together? You're home, whether you know it or not, when you're with the ones you love and care about. Houses are full of things, homes are full of love. It's as simple as that.



Enough for now, the motion sickness is beginning to play games with my mind. If you're up right now too, take some time to count how many homes you have and wrap yourself in all that love.


Live simply.

Click Me, Read Me, Love Me

You know, writing is an interesting thing. Well, blogging is an interesting thing. You compose your thoughts, "pen" them, and as soon as you click Publish your thoughts and musings are sent off into the internet waiting to be read.

That's kind of how human beings are, if you think about it. We spend so much time composing ourselves, adhering to social cues and expectations. We exhibit behavior we think is most suitable, and then we wait for those around us to approve.

Can we escape this tedious and anxiety-ridden process? Is unconditional love reserved for a mere few?

Curiouser and curiouser.

live simply.

Once a Blogger, Always a Feeler

For time's sake, I'm going to retire my old way of starting each blogpost, "Today was..." Going months without blogging no longer qualifies me to be able to talk about the day to day, but rather the grand scheme of moments... in more or less words.

Deciding to blog after a very long hiatus springs from a few different reasons. Primarily, I just haven't had the time to post, and I owe it to my two readers to come up with some new "Taylor Early Experiences". Another reason is living. I realized, a month or so into my blog project that it was, in fact, one of my typical phases. I become enthralled with a particular subject or task and venture to find out everything and anything about that thing. Blogging was another one of those phases.

I've always journaled, doodled, finger-painted, jotted, and more or less encapsulated my life into various, tangible forms. First a college-ruled notebook, then a pretty little book given to me as a gift, I've been penning my thoughts since I was a wee one. It was only fitting that as technology advanced, my medium of choice paralleled the movement. First came various websites that I could play with HTML code (another phase) and then Livejournal. Livejournal was precisely its namesake; your life as a journal. This electronic archive of my angsty youth chronicles the first few years of high school and their highs as well as very lows. Looking back through my posts, I've come to realize that an online presence is just that; you can't live through this persona and quantify your life in a series of line breaks.

Now, it sounds like I'm leading up to a defining moment in this post, but honestly, I am not. I've decided to blog again because even though I'm typing to a screen, writing will always be a release as well as an escape. I'll always go through phases, and some will last longer than others. But one thing will remain constant; sometimes rather than letting the feeling go, its better to just feel.

live simply.