Yeah, Our Bodies Age...So What?

Sooo, it's been a while. I know. I'm sure you, my loyal readership (ahem, my mama), have been aching to no end waiting for the latest from the gibberish spewing depths of my mind. Surely the past few weeks have left you feeling empty inside. So here goes...this is what's on my mind...RIGHT NOW.

So many people have been telling me recently, "Tara! Live while you're young!"

Live while I'm young? What comes after young...? What age serves as the dividing line between living, and just going through the motions. Maybe it's just me...but I fully intend to live while I am ALIVE...not just while I'm young. My body may age, and I may mature, but I don't ever want to stop reacting to life's wonderful moments like a little kid:

I recently made an impromptu trip home to State College. Like an 11pm Thursday night decision to come home on Friday. Looking back it feels a little like fate made that happen. My grandma has been pretty sick, I found out my brother was going home too (mind you I found this out after already deciding to make the trip), and something just literally compelled me to make the trip. And it ended up being a fulfilling weekend with family and a chance to reconnect with with some wonderful people. I needed that.

It just so happened that it was also THON weekend at Penn State. I admittedly have never been too involved in the THON scene, but for some reason, this year in particular had me mesmerized. The people who waited in line for hours in the frigid cold, the families I met from all over the country, the passion emitted when I heard friends talk about the THON beyond individual Penn State groups wearing bright colors and competing with one another. Maybe being separated from the Penn State community for a little after having spent my whole life engulfed in it...and maybe because I my perspectives, outlooks, and priorities are evolving daily...maybe that is why for the first time it truly, completely, hit me. One friend in particular said it best, "You go up for those last few hours and you will cry. There's no avoiding it. You will cry. But you will feel more love and inspiration that you can imagine." Not only does that make me even prouder to be a Nittany Lion, but sweet baby Jesus, I'm proud to be lucky enough to know so many great people involved in so many great things with so much friggin' love in their hearts. The chance to be surrounded by love is an irreplaceable and unexplainable thing. In other words:

People: You rock.

Penn State: You rock.

Life: You rock.

On another note, I also recently had the privilege of living as a hipster for a day (check that off the old bucket list). I ventured to Brooklyn, NY with some wonderful friends to see Mumford & Sons. Brooklyn + banjo wielding band + flannel attire...we owned our 24 hour case of hipsteritis. Whether you're a fan on Mumford or not, they were hands down the best live performance I have ever seen in my life. They go hard, sound better than any recording, have a stage full of instruments, and most of all, the music they make combined with the lyrics they write is straight up phenomenal. One song in particular has nested in my head recently...to the point where it's painting the walls and laying down hardwood floor in my mind.

"Do not let my fickle flesh go to waste
As it keeps my heart and soul in it's place
And I will love with urgency but not with haste"

Those few ending lines are just friggin' invigorating (no, not in the Neutrogena face wash sense). That notion of "letting things go to waste" just ain't cool. And there is something about that last line in particular...something that just makes me nod my head and think, "Damn. Yes. That." So yeah, I'm gonna do that.

This past weekend brought its own set of lessons (and fun) as well. That whole "work hard play hard" thing has merit to it, folks, I think we all would admit that. But it's exhausting, yeah? In my humble opinion (well, maybe not so humble), the ratio of work to fun is rarely 50-50...and I don't know that it necessarily should be anyway...I personally would push for more of a 40-60...but I digress. We all preach how GD short life is all the time, right? There are only so many hours in the day and we spend the vast majority of them working, thinking about work, and stressing about work. Don't get me wrong, work is good (for lack of a more eloquent phrase). Work spurs inspiration, motivation, dedication (all the 'ations') and that is a damn good thing. I honestly don't even know where I am going with this paragraph, but the meat of it is that what matters most...what really counts in the grand scheme of life is: personal fulfillment, emotional connection, people, hugs, high fives, living in the moment, seriously considering going to IHOP at 3 in the morning and not feeling guilty about it, love, cognizance of the beauty around you even if that beauty is merely the way the light reflects off of your phone as you sit in your 9-5 cubicle...we often get so caught up in the big picture that we forget about the little details that come together to create that big picture.

I know I preach a lot in these things, but I am truly, truly, truly, trying to live up to this whole living thing. I may not have balls in the most technical sense, but that won't stop me from going balls to the walls. While there is no avoiding the aging of our bodies, and while mature development is a good thing, there is no reason to let the notion of 'maturity' prevent you from letting yourself have fun...letting yourself really live. Being straight-laced and politically correct all the time is overrated anyway. Sometimes embracing weird and letting go is the catalyst to a FULL life. 

Sincerest apologies for the rambling and all over the place post...but I figure it's only appropriate to ferociously type up exactly what was on my mind this past hour and click "publish" without rereading it. I'll post something more coherent and clean next time. 

Until then, embrace the weird, y'all.

Write Your Own Rules

When I was a kid, I remember pretending to like root beer for the longest time. At birthday parties, post-soccer game pizza outings, sleepovers...if there was root beer, I was all over it. Root beer was cool. But I hated it (still do). I thought that I could learn to love it. Learn to love...oh how that theory morphs into bigger and badder things with bigger and badder consequences as we age. I didn't learn to love root beer. I didn't even learn to tolerate it.

We are too often so wrapped up in conforming to every opinion but our own, and yet our growth and personal evolution is dependent on our interactions with those around us. A pickle, indeed. As such, writing your own set of rules does not necessarily mean going against those around you, rebelling if you will. The decisions any thoughtful person would make are with those that they love and respect in mind.

First and foremost, don't listen to what I, or anyone else, tells you is right for you (okay, I recognize that sentence is a contradiction in itself, so if making your own rules isn't your cup of tea, by all means, carry on your merry way).

Stop caring so much about what other people think ALL THE TIME. Loosen the filter, say what's on your mind, pull a Jennifer Lawrence.

If you are unhappy with your life, live it differently. It's easy to preach the extreme of these notions (i.e. "If you're unhappy with you job, change it!" "If you're unhappy in love, get out!"). We all know that these things are so much easier said than done, but that's because they are processes. That stuff doesn't happen over night or even in the course of a month. The first step is changing the game. Add an inch of progress every day. Keep moving no matter how small each step is. Keep going so long as the direction you are going is in the direction of what you are headed toward. Walk into a job you hate with a new set of rules. A set of rules that enables you to find a niche that you do enjoy. Or enables you to either feel like you won when you got fired, or quit gracefully with well wishes and solid recommendations. Or, if circumstances call for it, like this...

We are groomed to remain in the lanes of the orchestrated route generated by the LIFE GPS. The route to anticipated success and happiness. The goulash of life includes pinches of "marketable" degrees, "respectable" careers, marriage by 'x' age, babies by 'x' age, etc, etc. There is nothing necessarily wrong with this hearty life stew--maybe goulash is your dish of choice--but let's be real here, goulash isn't for everyone. Not every digestive tract is made to support the ingredients of said goulash. No one should be forced into unwanted flavors, bouts of nausea, or unexpected gas.

Why is it that more often than not, what we are truly passionate about, the things we live for, are what we allot 10% of our time to...if we're lucky?

Why is it so hard for us to realize that trying to impress people is just all kinds of bass-ackwards? This is especially true when it comes to relationships. Why would you want to be with someone when a requirement of the relationship entails being on point at all times in an elaborate facade? Even if it is only a teensy facade...why bother? And not just romantic relationships, but friendships too.

What would you honestly say if asked: "What do you have to say for yourself?" And not even in a hostile way...just what do you have to say...about you? Who are you? What are you doing? Why?

I am not claiming to be a saint in the theories I am preaching AT ALL. I'm as guilty as the rest of you. But one thing I can say, for better or worse, I am fairly comfortable in who I am. This was not always the case...in fact, not even close. But now I can proudly say that I am more often than not, unafraid to SOUND MY BARBARIC YAWP OVER THE ROOFTOPS OF THE WORLD:

So here are just a handful of my rules: 

Don't be afraid to "say the first thing that pops into your head even if it's full of gibberish."

Don't be afraid to admit things like not particularly caring for bacon (guilty).

Don't be afraid to call out the duck faced camera-kissing ladies by taking it to the next level and adding morning hair shock therapy.

So hawt.

Don't be afraid to boogie...wedding, bar, coffee shop, living room, street corner, cubicle...you name it. For me at least, if muh jam is on you best believe I be jammin'.

Don't be afraid to take a leap of faith even if you may flop.

Don't be afraid of a shameless photo bomb...not even in Vatican City.

...or the kitchen.

Don't be afraid to giddily stuff your face when circumstances call for nothing less.

 

Don't be afraid to run gleefully through the streets, no matter how you may look doing it. 

Perhaps the boiler plate just so happens to be the right road for you. Perhaps it's not. The point I'm trying to make, which may have gotten lost in the mud, is don't settle. Don't settle for anyone else, and moreover, don't settle for the written path you've allowed the world to convince you is the right one. 

"We are fools for worms, lads..."

Make your lives extraordinary (you'll notice that the word extraordinary...extra-ordinary...does not necessaily mean extravagant. Small changes can go a long way).

And finally, as my good ol' hero, Amy Poehler says...