What do pie dough and nostalgia have in common?

I think the weirdest thing about losing electricity and heat during such a reflective and family-oriented time like Thanksgiving is not the lack of me-time, but the immense self reflection that followed a period of high intensity family time. Finally back in the kitchen and baking, getting the gratitude gears turning within me wasn't all that difficult. What was difficult was realizing the deep seeded pang that I thought I had healed months ago. Once superficial, then cut infinitely and gaping, I thought I had neatly sealed away any sort of rooted nostalgia. A few hours and pies later, I locate the source of my angst and here I fester. Do I reach out again? Do I let time keep passing, furthering temporal and, for the time being, geographic space between us? Usually I let my emotions be directed by whatever universal tug I'm feeling, and right now I've never felt more pulled. Note to self: apple pies and nostalgic trips down photo album memory lane do not make a stable Taylor. Not unhappy, I'm just feeling confused and very stuck. Time to sleep.

Like the sun that always shines.

Recently I was enlightened to the existence of these things called angel cards, and they offer daily guidance in the form of a single word with an accompanying description. The angel that told me about these angel cards picked one for me today: Trust. Before I asked her what the description was, I tried to let the word sink in. What does it mean to trust? What kind of trust? How can I direct trust internally and externally? The answer to these question obviously varies from person to person, but its importance is steadfast. We all know someone with trust issues, and to a degree we all share those insecurities with making ourselves vulnerable. Especially with those around us, the constant mental line we toe between giving someone the power to hurt us and entrusting that they won't is exhausting. Exhausting but necessary, it's the part I believe that makes us the most human. Not human in an evolutionarily sense, but human in the sense that we are able to connect with one another, thus forging deeper connections with the world around us and the universe that thrives within and between us.

Today sucked. I felt really human, and it felt like I was walking around naked-- bearing every inch of my humanness with my lack of a poker face. But I asked my angel for the description and this is what she sent me:

Trust: Move from a place of knowing within you rather than as a result of adaptation to outer experience. Let go of your assumptions and need to control life's creative process. 

Life happens-- not to you, but with you. Trying to control the processes and people that surround you is futile. You are the captain of your own destiny, a destiny that stems from the light that sits inside of you, impermeable and unaffected by anyone else. Let the angels bless you, but keep the darkness out.

I'm human, I can write these things and think them and truly feel them, but to embody them has been the biggest challenge. Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to keep a candle lit in a drafty room. But there's always people who are willing to relight the candle and huddle around it, and trusting that the candle won't ever go out is so important, no matter how dim it may get.

Fuck yes, absolutely no less.

Ah, 2:36 AM. One of my oldest acquaintences, I don't see much of you these days. Tonight, however, I greet you with a somewhat clear and level head. Something you are not greeted with often, especially from me.

The weeks between this post and my last seem unbelievably distant, and I feel each of those weeks, days, hours, moments deep in my bones. Senior year, man. This is some weird shit. A time when everyone is just one gin and tonic away from absolutely losing their fucking marbles. At this point last year, I was returning from the single most ridiculous and out of this universe weeks in my life spent on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, in a town I can barely accept was a part of this reality.

This year is different. This is the last fall of my undergraduate career. The last September, October, November. Halfway through November and I'm still reeling: the aftermath of an ended relationship for not just the books but the silver screen for fucks sake, a lacrosse ball to the face and the subsequent concussion recovery alongside endless "athletic" injuries, the realization that #nonewfriends is #stupidasfuck, and fresh off the presses tonight: a new flame essentially flickering out. Thanks to the ever intrusive world of technology, "conversing" about our "feelings" became relegated to a late-night staring contest with a tiny rectangular screen and the tiny ellipsis that mocks iPhone users in times of "emotional" stress. As I sat under the covers of my bed, watching this small scale shit storm of insecurity and uncertainty and social pressures unravel, I remarkably reminded myself of the existence of an article I was forwarded a few weeks ago. A godsend, no really, a miraculous, unbelievably common-sense orientated nugget of wisdom, this article (and this subsequent one) punched me in the face with realization. It all essentially boils down to this: YOUR HAPPINESS IS NON-NEGOTIABLE. If they/it/he/she/all the above is not gung-ho, balls-to-the-wall, ready-to-shout-from-the-rooftops-excited to be anything with you, they do not deserve a place in your life or to be blessed and graced by your presence. You always deserve a fuck yes, never anything less. Want that froyo? Fuck yes I do I'm gonna eat the shit out of that froyo. Need some time to figure out if you want to be with me? Sounds like some grey area bullshit. I think I'll take the froyo and serve you up a nice "fuck you".

In a time with all sorts of lasts, saying "Fuck yes" is crucial. Be it about making new friends, deciding on postgrad jobs, the last person you want to say goodnight to, that goddamn froyo: Fuck yes, abso-fucking-lutely no less. 

Someone get me a burger and some friggen froyo.