A Long-Overdue Update on Life

I've started writing many blog posts on Answering Oliver over the last month, but I'm never able to finish them. They trail off into dead ends, perhaps because I find them particularly uninspiring, or because they are inauthentic.

I'm too far behind to begin catching up with one post that focuses on one neat topic. My life doesn't look like that right now. I've got things to spill, and they won't come in any sort of convenient package.

Let's start with this: I'm extremely, incredibly, unbelievably happy right now.

I've got practically no sense of certainty in my life, and yet I am happy. This never would have been the case prior to my trip, during which I learned to embrace the unknown and roll with the punches.

The old me would have been bursting with anxiety over having no job, no permanent home and seemingly no sense of direction. Now I'm just suspended in an odd state of calm, acknowledging that I don't know all the answers, but everything will be OK.

Maybe that all has to do with knowing that I'm in the right place, in the physical sense.

At the beginning of July, I spent a week in Portland, Oregon, to attend the second-annual World Domination Summit. The conference itself only lasted two days of my visit; the rest of the time, I ate Voodoo Doughnuts and danced and caroused and built houses with several friends I made at last year's event.

Chris Guillebeau addressing the 1,000 attendees of WDS 2012. (c) Armosa Studios.

Voodoo's bacon-maple doughnut: Looks disgusting, tastes amazing.

Kristin Glenn, Nicky Hajal and me dancing the night away (Nicky especially).

My hostel dorm-mates and I spent a day volunteering for Habitat for Humanity. From left back: Nate Damm, James Clark, Anthony Secco, me, Dave Ursillo, Shannon O'Donnell, Jodi Ettenberg, Jacob Sokol, Nicky Hajal, Dave Dean, Steve Kamb, Nathan Agin.

But despite all the fun I had, I got very homesick about halfway through the week. I was surrounded by awesome people, Portland had perfect summer weather and I had tons of free time to do whatever I wanted, but it didn't matter — I missed Seattle, I missed Aaron, I missed my family. I missed home.

That's how I know for sure that I'm in the right place, and long-term solo travel definitely isn't right for me. I barely lasted a week away from Seattle this time!

And then I came home to this.

And I felt compelled to write the story of my history with Aaron. For those readers who began following along with my travels this year, Aaron didn't just appear out of nowhere when I came home in May; he appeared out of nowhere exactly two years ago, looking like a homeless man and making fun of my alma mater, the (clearly superior) rival to his. It's a long story. : )

On Sunday, Aaron and I are off to Hawaii for a week of tropical adventures. We've got lots of fun stuff planned, including hiking, snorkeling, cycling and ATV riding. Aaron is also going to photograph his co-worker's Kauai wedding, and I decided to try my hand at being the second photographer.

When he first asked me to help shoot the wedding, I said something like, "No, no, no, nooooo. That's way too much pressure. I have no experience shooting weddings!"

Which, of course, translated to: "I'm not good enough."

That's stupid. I am good enough. I'm going to try. And maybe, just maybe, I'll surprise myself and take some good shots.

When was the last time you told yourself you weren't good enough? Rethink that.

It's hard to put yourself out there, to try and quite possibly fail. I'm in the process of doing that right now with... let's call them... schmob schminterviews. OK, I'll say it: Job interviews.

I don't desperately need a job right now, but I would like one. I figured out during my travels that I prefer having a traditional job over working for myself because I like physically going to an office, being around people and having fairly regular hours. I also thought about what my last job was lacking, and what I really want in my next job:

• To be constantly challenged.
• To be creative.
• To believe in what I'm doing.
• To have room to grow.

I've decided to look at jobs now rather than wait until my bank account is urgently low and I feel like I need to take any job I can get. I've long made it a priority to ensure that I never feel trapped or forced into anything. Right now, I have the luxury of being able to selectively apply for jobs that I think I'll find challenging and fulfilling. I hope it works out!

I should note here that I wasn't going to write anything about job hunting until I actually landed a job — who wants to look like a failure? — but failure is just a part of the story. Writing only about success reeks of that lack of authenticity I spoke of earlier.

That said, let's talk about a little success. Remember when I sprained my ankle in Thailand? I spent about two and a half weeks on crutches, a few more weeks in a brace and a month in physical therapy.

I went from this...

About to leave Thailand! At the Koh Samui airport on May 8.

...to this...

Taking a break from limping around in my brace. In my mom's backyard on May 26.

...to this!

Running like a boss! At Green Lake on July 4.

OK, so I'm not completely recovered yet. I have to do short intervals of running and walking, since my bad ankle can't handle the impact of constant running quite yet, and I still have bouts of soreness and swelling. Right now, for example, the ankle is pissed off because I wore heels to a job interview yesterday. My bad!

Recovering has seemed like a long, tedious process, but I'm just so thankful to be able to walk normally again. Mobility is such a precious gift, and it's important for so many things I hold dear, like running, traveling and feeling independent. I'll always remember what it felt like to have it taken away and appreciate it a lot more.

Let's see... happiness, Portland, Aaron, Hawaii, job interviews, recovery... I think I've covered a lot in this long-overdue life update!

I suppose I'll end with something I learned at the World Domination Summit. Before I wrote this post, I was thinking about how happy I am right now, and sort of basking in that glow of things just feeling right.

And then... I felt a tiny twinge of dread. Things can't be this good for long. What's about to go wrong?

Brené Brown spoke at WDS about vulnerability. She said that most of us are afraid to be vulnerable because our instinct is to close ourselves off, to shield ourselves from rejection, embarrassment and pain. In doing so, though, we also stifle our ability to fully experience joy.

Even though I'm happy now, my gut tells me to prepare myself for something bad to happen. Some may call that pessimism; others, practicality. All I know is that it cuts short my joy, and Brown says that sucks. I do, too.

I'll choose instead to be vulnerable, to open myself up to all possibilities and to hold on to my happiness.

###

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###

Why Travel? Because Everyone Has a Story

Everyone I've talked to about my upcoming year of travel has been extremely supportive of it, but I think many people don't quite understand it.

I've gotten the following questions a lot:

• Are you trying to find yourself?
• Is it going to be like Eat, Pray, Love?
• When are you going to come back to the real world?

And my answers are usually:

• No, I think I know myself pretty well. But I'd love to actually get lost, and, in doing so, find out so much more.
• God, I hope so, complete with the handsome Brazilian man at the end. (No.)
• The rest of the world is the real world!

So why am I traveling, then?

It has quite a bit to do with my desire to live an unhurried life — one in which I'm free to wander and wonder and do things at my own pace.

That's why you won't find my travel itinerary packed with specific plans and activities to check off. The mostly blank slate is quite intentional; my goal is to let the journey shape itself over time, and to be open to new adventures and detours at any moment.

But I was reminded today of another reason why I'm traveling.

I'm finally reading Bill Clinton's autobiography, My Life, which I've had on my bookshelf for years.

In it, he writes:

I learned a lot from the stories my uncle, aunts, and grandparents told me: that no one is perfect but most people are good; that people can't be judged only by their worst or weakest moments; that harsh judgments can make hypocrites of us all; that laughter is often the best, and sometimes the only, response to pain. Perhaps most important, I learned that everyone has a story — of dreams and nightmares, hope and heartache, love and loss, courage and fear, sacrifice and selfishness. All my life I've been interested in other people's stories. I've wanted to know them, understand them, feel them.

I feel the same way, and maybe that's why I got a journalism degree but never became a reporter. I love to write, but I didn't want to write dry articles about city-council meetings and stormwater drainage. (That's a link to an actual article I wrote about stormwater drainage — get excited.) That stuff is important, but it's not what lights my fire.

I like to write about people and their lives. My favorite stories to write for journalism classes and internships were profiles, like this one I wrote about Devin Hampton. He went from being an unmotivated kid who never went to class to planning President Barack Obama's premier inaugural ball. I haven't talked with him in a while, but I think Devin is now a part of the Obama administration.

How the hell did he get there? Everyone has a story, and I had the pleasure of discovering and writing about Devin's.

This may sound like bullshit coming from someone who writes not one, but two blogs about herself. But my story is simply the one I know best, and since I'm no longer a journalism student or intern, I'm not forced to step outside of my comfort zone and really get to know others' stories very well.

That changed at the World Domination Summit, where I met tons of different people and learned about their amazing stories. Every attendee seemed to go into the conference with an open mind and his or her guard let down. Swapping your biggest dreams with the near-stranger next to you was the norm, and an attitude that I hope to carry with me throughout my travels.

I may or may not write about the people I meet during my travels on this blog, but I'll hold their stories close just the same. I believe that everyone you interact with throughout your life affects you in some way. Each person can be just a small footnote or an entire chapter in your story. And you never know who will come along and change the plot entirely.

I look forward to learning about others' stories and how they are different from and similar to mine. I can't wait to immerse myself in new surroundings and find out what drives daily life in places that are so foreign to what I've known for 24 years. And, perhaps most of all, I want to discover what it feels like to transcend the boundaries of geography and culture and language in order to really connect with someone.

So, yes, one day I will run out of money and need to return to what many call the "real world." I'll likely be homeless, penniless and seriously lacking a handsome Brazilian man in my life.

But my passport will be bursting with stamps, and my life's story will forever bear the marks left by those places I've visited and people I've met. My wallet may be empty, but I'll be all the richer for it.

###

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###

In the Silence, I Notice

I used to run with music. I'd spend hours choosing songs for race playlists, making them exactly XX minutes long to match my goal time and placing the most motivational songs where I knew I'd need them most.

But I haven't run with music at all in 2011. And now, instead of having XX minutes of empty airspace to fill, I have one or two hours of silence to endure.

What changed?

I first ditched music when I ran the Resolution Run 5K and Polar Bear Plunge on New Years Day. The course dipped into Lake Washington just before the finish line, and I couldn't really submerge my iPod in the 40-degree water, so I went without it. Since then, I've run completely music-free.

While out on my final half-marathon training run last week, I realized why I like to run without music: Because in the silence, I notice.

I notice how the rhythm of my breath settles in with the cadence of my footsteps. I notice if my body is struggling to keep up or if it wants to push harder. I notice what my thoughts are, if I'm angry or stressed or pleased about my workday.

I'm really good at burying inconvenient feelings and distracting myself by keeping busy. When I ran with music, I'd anticipate that running would be unpleasant, so I went in armed with a distraction to keep my mind occupied and deflect the unpleasantness.

But then I forgot how nice it is to feel, even if the feeling isn't good.

Running is my time to notice. Even if my body runs quickly, my mind slows down. It takes a good look around — at the trail I'm running on and at myself — and sees more in 30 minutes that it has all day.

I'm still plenty guilty of distracting myself. I'm always glued to my smartphone when I ride the bus, and I often surf the Web while watching TV (essentially distracting myself from a distraction).

But I have running, and I sometimes go to yoga — not because I love sun salutations, but because the instructor always starts by asking us to relax, close our eyes and notice our thoughts.

I recently ran an 8:16 mile (which is fast for me) from the gym back to my house after an intense 75-minute power-yoga class. Even though I was tired, I felt ridiculously light and relaxed. I flew.

I had just lost a loved one the previous day and my mind had been backed up with sadness and worry. Yoga will never fix everything or bring a person back, but that night, it helped me acknowledge those feelings and then clear them out a bit.

Sadness and worry that go unnoticed don't go anywhere.

It's always nice to be noticed. Don't you appreciate it when someone compliments your new haircut or sends an email to thank you for something small that you did? They noticed. It feels good to matter to someone, even just a little bit.

Do you notice what you're thinking or how you're really feeling very often? How much do you matter to yourself?

It may sound selfish to focus on yourself like that, but I know what it's like to let buried feelings build up until they explode. It's not good. The last time I let that happen, I was unable to sit at my desk at work without crying. I found it impossible to look in the mirror and muster a genuine smile. I couldn't answer "yes" to the question, "Are you OK?"

It was all so unlike me, and it was scary as hell.

The worst part was that I had no idea why I felt that way. My "everything's fine" attitude had pushed every inconvenient thought and feeling straight to the back of my mind, where they all piled up and festered for months. I failed to notice how stressed, anxious and overwhelmed I had become until it all boiled over.

It's easy to be distracted and let some of the most important stuff go unnoticed. I'm no psychologist or anything, but I've been doing better. Here's what works for me.

Turn something off — whatever it is that distracts you the most.

Pay attention to your thoughts. Go for a walk, close your eyes for a few minutes at your desk or just stare out the window for a while.

Acknowledge the inconvenient stuff. Let your fear, anxiety, self-doubt or whatever come to the surface.

Clear it out when you're ready. What can you change? What must you accept? What can you stop worrying about today? Sometimes just thinking about it is enough; other times, you may need to write it down, confide in a friend or talk to a professional.

And make room for more good stuff. My stomach and my mind agree: It's always worth it to make some room for good stuff.

It all starts with noticing.

###

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###

2010: The year in review

I've thought about this post for quite some time — how to write it, which details to include and whether I should even write it at all. The memory of this first incident hit me one morning and I realized how far I've come in just a year, both in achievements and attitude. I think I'm proud enough of where I am and who I am today to be able to write about this quite sad, embarrassing time in my life. Maybe it'll help someone who now feels like I felt a year ago. Who knows? Here goes.

On December 31, 2009, I went to a New Year's Eve party with my then-boyfriend, who I'd been dating for about 6 months. The party was at his friend's apartment, and I wanted to have fun, watch the fireworks and ring in the new year right.

For some reason, "ringing in the new year" that night meant mixing myself some really strong drinks and drinking them too quickly. It meant feeling sick and going to lie down while everyone else enjoyed the party. And then it meant feeling really sick and spending the first few hours of 2010 leaning over a toilet, experiencing all the ickiness that comes with drinking too much while also sobbing uncontrollably.

I was that girl. So embarrassing. But wait, it gets worse!

My then-boyfriend later told me that as I sobbed on the bathroom floor of his friend's apartment, I kept repeating something over and over:

"I'm never happy."

I had no recollection of saying that, so I was surprised, and I think I even laughed. "That's so weird," I said. "Of course I'm happy! I might have said that, but I didn't mean it."

I wasn't just saying that; I believed it. But things were rocky in that relationship. My then-boyfriend had a ton of energy, and loved to run, ride his bike and go out with his friends all the time. I was just getting used to my first full-time job, always felt tired and would rather stay in and watch a movie than go out to a bar or theater. He always had events, races and travel plans on the horizon; I did little besides go to work, read and sleep.

We fought about these differences a lot. One time I walked away from him in the middle of an argument because I was too upset to talk through and settle it. He never forgave me for that. He broke up with me the first week of January.

I was heartbroken at the time, but looking back, I can see why he couldn't date me anymore. Who wants to be with someone who just wants to sit at home all the time? Who wants to date someone who confesses through their beer-tears that they're never happy?

In hindsight, I know that I wasn't happy. I wasn't depressed, either, but I was discontent with my life as it was. I had quite a bit going for me, having recently graduated college and landed a good job, but the same thought kept creeping into my mind: "Is this it? Is this what my life will be like until I retire or die — whichever comes first?"

Human-resources-types would say I was missing a work/life balance. Angsty, twenty-something blogger-types would say I was having a quarter-life crisis.

I was always tired. I didn't see my friends very much. I had no hobbies. I didn't exercise. I didn't really watch what I ate. None of these individual elements was particularly alarming to me, but the combination left me in a sort of quiet desperation. For lack of a better way to describe the feeling, I was just kinda bummed about life.

One of the reasons I was bummed was because I thought I wouldn't meet another guy my age anytime soon. I spent the majority of my time commuting on the bus or plugging away at work, and those scenes weren't exactly hopping with eligible young men like college was.

So let's just talk about Match.com for a second. Yup, I was on there for a little bit, at the encouragement of my dear mother. I went out with a few guys, all normal, most nice, but none too extraordinary. Then I met a really, really great guy who I dated for a few months. I don't have a single bad word to say about this guy; I just didn't see it going anywhere and very sadly ended the relationship. That was also the end of my Match.com experience, thankyouverymuch.

I came out of that just wanting to be single for a while. I was in the midst of paying off my debt and wanted to focus on getting the rest of my life together. I wanted to learn how to navigate on my own, since I always had boyfriends in college and wasn't all that familiar with solitude. I always needed someone else's approval to feel OK.

Leave it up to the universe to throw two guys my way that I couldn't ignore. I ended up dating both of them briefly, despite my well-meaning intentions to stay single. Neither experience went very well, and I was back to being single at the end of the summer and wanting to stay that way.

Something changed at that point, and I decided to start living my life the way I wanted to live it instead of waiting for someone else to tell me that I was OK.

I reconnected with my friends, ones that I've been close with for 10 years, and it breathed some life back into me. I started doing a lot of reading and began realizing that life could be about so much more than work. Opportunities that I never thought I'd be able to have suddenly seemed attainable. I paid off all my debt, which had been a huge burden and a large part of why I felt so trapped in the first place.

I started running. I made calculated efforts to become more adventurous, and started saying "yes" to a lot more invitations and activities. I started initiating activities myself. I went skydiving. I registered for my first 5K (very scary). I made an effort to eat healthier and get more sleep.

I posted more on this blog and remembered how much joy I get from writing. I decided to start taking my dreams very seriously. Ayn Rand's quote, "The question is not who is going to let me, it's who is going to stop me," became a big deal to me.

I finally began to stand on my own two feet.

This didn't all happen at once; some of it has happened slowly over the course of this entire year, but I feel like most of it has happened since the beginning of September. That's when I stopped looking for approval from someone else, and instead started becoming a person that I approve of. After all, I'm stuck with me for the rest of my life, so I might as well like myself.

This is not to say that I now have a perfect life or that I'm the greatest person ever, but I've come a long, long way from the girl who sobbed on the floor last New Year's Eve. I can now say, with absolute conviction, that I am happy every day. I'm not necessarily happy all day, and sometimes not even most of the day, but I am happy. Every. Day.

And actually, I can think of several days in the past few months that I have been happy all day. Last Thursday, I was happy all day.

Things could have easily gone the other way (into a depression, perhaps), or just stayed the same. I could still be pretty bummed about life.

But I realized that I couldn't just sit around and wait for something or someone to come along and make me happy; I had to think about the things in life that would bring me joy, then pursue them. I realize that it's not that simple for everyone, but I feel very fortunate that it was for me.

Nothing is ever hopeless. I wish I'd known that a year ago. Also, I wish I'd known that my own attitude was the main thing that was holding me back from enjoying life. Ultramarathon runner Dean Karnazes wrote, "If we could just free ourselves from our perceived limitations and tap into our internal fire, the possibilities are endless."

If it seems like I'm super excited about all the things I have planned for 2011, now you know it's because my life is so different than it was a year ago. I didn't have much to look forward to at the end of 2009 because I wasn't interested in much more than getting through each day. Now I struggle to not get too far ahead of myself with all the things I want to do in the next year and beyond. Now I set goals and challenge myself to be better.

This New Year's Eve, I plan to enjoy a glass of champagne at midnight and then get some rest before I run and dive into a 5K/polar bear plunge on January 1, 2011.

It'll be an absolutely fantastic fresh start.

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"When a great adventure is offered, you don't refuse it"

I'm skipping town for the next week.

This Friday, I'm flying south with friends and going island-hopping in the Caribbean. We'll be aboard a giant cruise ship, so please send "canned Spam, canned fruit, canned milk and munchies such as Pop Tarts" if something goes wrong.

"Munchies such as Pop Tarts." Look at you go, LA Times!

My friend works for a cruise line and got us an insanely great deal. Insanely great. That means there's plenty of vacation money left over for fun activities like ziplining, snorkeling, kayaking, cocktail-drinking, etc.

I'm a little excited.

It's November. I'm in Seattle. I scraped ice off of my windshield this morning and, while doing so, stepped in dog poop. Fresh dog poop. I didn't notice this fact until I was halfway to the Park & Ride, when I finally realized what the stench was. And, oh, what a stench it was.

The only thing that got me through it was picturing myself on a sandy beach in less than a week. With a very strong cocktail in my hand.

This trip wouldn't always have been possible for me. If I was still in debt, I'd probably have to pass on the opportunity, or just go deeper into debt — neither of which sound like very fun options.

If I hadn't recently decided to be more adventurous, I'd probably have passed on the opportunity since it wasn't a sure thing until just a few weeks ago. We bought plane tickets several weeks before the cruise was even confirmed, and, while this would have freaked me out not too long ago, my mindset was, "Well, I'll either get to spend a week in the Caribbean or a week in Florida. If necessary, I'll find something to do in Florida!"

I'm pretty sure Florida in November is more pleasant than Seattle in November. Or so I've heard.

Chris Guillebeau — who's right up there with Gandhi and Santa Claus in my book — recently reminded his readers to register for his upcoming World Domination Summit by busting out this quote from Amelia Earhart: "When a great adventure is offered, you don't refuse it."

A cruise may not be a "great adventure" for some people, but for me, it qualifies. Remember, I'm "a stay-at-homer, a curl-up-and-reader, a call-me-when-you're-done-and-tell-me-how-it-was... er."

I'm trying to be less of that, and more of a doer.

A year ago, Devon (that's me) would have said, "But, Devon, Amelia Earhart disappeared on her adventure. Wouldn't she have been better off just staying at home and watching reruns of the Real Housewives of [Anywhere]?"

That's true, Devon, but at least Amelia was out doing something. She was following her heart, chasing her dream, squeezing her life to its last drop — all that good stuff. Besides, what have the Real Housewives done for you lately?

I've written this about my self-doubt:

I find that when I dream of something, whether it's running a marathon or traveling around the world, I almost immediately start thinking, "But... [I'll never have enough endurance] [I'll never have enough time/money/bravery]." I can be too practical and too realistic. The "But..." comes all too quickly for me.

I'm going to try to wedge the quote, "When a great adventure is offered, you don't refuse it" in the front of my brain, right ahead of the, "But...". By the time I can start to doubt myself, I've already signed on for the adventure and the ride is in motion.

For example, this idea was planted in my mind just last night. I'll be signing up for this when I return from the cruise. (Just the 13.1, people. I'm adventurous, not crazy.)

I also registered for the World Domination Summit a few hours after the Web site went live, about a month and a half ago. A great adventure was offered. I couldn't refuse it.

So those are some of my upcoming adventures, and I'll be back in a little more than a week to tell you how the cruise went. I've got my fingers crossed for good weather and, you know, whatever the opposite of an engine fire is.

If things don't work out, remember... Pop Tarts.

Don't be shy... I see you

I don't get a whole lot of comments on this blog, and that's OK. I write mostly to organize the tangle of thoughts in my head and put them somewhere else so they don't clog up my brain.

But some friends will mention in passing that they've read certain posts, and I've gotten some nice emails and Facebook messages from old high school friends with words of encouragement. It's always nice to hear that people read what I write and don't think it's complete crap. (And if you do think it's complete crap, feel free to keep that to yourself. Thanks!)

If you follow my blog and don't want to comment because you're afraid I'll think you're a creeper, don't worry about that. Chances are I already know you're a creeper, especially if you're the only person I actually know who lives in a certain state or city.

Google Analytics rocks. It lets me know that people do read my crap! And they read it all over the country. Not so much in the midwest, but I've never been a big fan of that region, either.

All those dots represent visits from 77 different cities in 21 states. Doesn't look like that many, I know, but The Google never lies. At least I like to think it doesn't.

People have also viewed this blog in Germany (hi, Moo!), South Korea (hi, Sarah!), Canada, India and New Zealand (no clue on those last three).

And while the largest concentration of visitors obviously comes from Seattle and the surrounding cities, there are a surprising number of visits from Portland, Oregon, and Mesa, Arizona. Who are you, Portland people? Holler at me, Mesa! Don't be shy. I appreciate your visits, and I'd love to hear from you, too.

This is not meant to be an OMGLookHowCoolIAmBecausePeopleReadMyBlog post. (I've already established that I never have been, am not and never will be cool.)

I just thought I'd let y'all know that although I expose quite a bit of my thoughts here, I can also see a little bit of you, and I'd like to see even more (in a completely non-creepy way). Don't be afraid to comment, or just email me if you'd like to holler (talking to you, Mesa!) or ask me any questions about how I got to be such a weirdo.

And I'm sorry I've been MIA from blogging lately. (Yes, I see when people check my blog even when I haven't updated it for several days. I appreciate you.) I've been running. And going to sleep early. And getting up early. And running. You can read a little more about that here, if you want.

I get ideas for blog posts right about the same time I get into bed (which is 9:30 on weeknights, holler!), and I usually fall asleep writing them in my head. Then they're gone when I wake up.

I also have lots of random notes, quotes and lists on the memo app on my phone. The problem is that I tend to write looong, boooring posts and don't want to just knock out a post if I won't have time to get all my thoughts out. And if I start writing a post at 8:30, I'll inevitably be up until 11:30 obsessing over it, and then be tired and miserable the next day.

I highly suggest a 9:30 bedtime, grandma style. I didn't know what it felt like to not be tired all the time until I actually started getting enough sleep, and then I realized it was awesome and I don't want to go back. This hinders my blogging. I need to make the time.

I knew I was going to like J.D. Roth of Get Rich Slowly when I read something he wrote that was along the lines of, "I've been meaning to do [such-and-such], but I haven't made the time." He deliberately avoided saying, "I didn't have the time."

We all  have the same amount of time. We all choose what to do with it.

I currently make plenty of time for:

• exercise
• sleep
• life admin (boring stuff like laundry, writing my budget, clearing clutter)

I need to work on making time for:

• my close friends
• blogging
• keeping up with people (calling my dad, setting up lunch dates and happy hours with friends I rarely see, etc.)

Well, this post turned from a Creepy McCreepathon into a self-improvement call-to-action...

Now to sleep. Hiking Saturday. 5K-ing Sunday.

The view from here

I've become obsessed with the sky.

Maybe it's just this time of year, but I've been noticing how beautiful it is lately — whenever it's not completely gray and cloudy.

I love me some sunshine, but I'd take interesting clouds over clear, blue skies most days.

Take Wednesday, for example. Here's what I saw on my bus ride home (click photo for larger version):

Then I ran a few errands in Woodinville, and stopped dead in my tracks in a parking lot to snap this:

And when I walked out of the store, I stopped and stared at this for a while:

I sat in my minivan watching the sunset and thought about... nothing. The sky looked unreal. It's been a while since a sight like this has knocked me over and made me be still. I'm always moving toward something, keeping my eyes on the path ahead, and not taking much time to look around at where I am at any given moment.

My life is not perfect, and there are a lot of things I'd like to change and a lot of things I'd like to accomplish in the future. But it's also nice to stop every once in a while, take a quiet moment, and enjoy the view from here.

Three life-changing things I've learned in the past 30 days (Part 3)

The third life-changing thing I've learned in the past 30 days is, once again, something I've stolen borrowed adopted from the fantastic Chris Guillebeau of the Art of Non-Conformity:

3. We regret the things we don’t do much more than the things we do.

I made some of those words extra-big and funky-looking because it's a big idea for me. As I've mentioned, I am naturally cautious and not the most adventurous person. I am a compulsive rule-follower. I am a stay-at-homer, a curl-up-and-reader, a call-me-when-you're-done-and-tell-me-how-it-was... er.

The problem is that I am inert.

Last summer, I spent a great day floating down the Snoqualmie River with a guy I was dating at the time. We eventually reached a placid area of the river, where the water flowed gently around a corner and under a bridge. Several people were jumping off the bridge, guys egging girls on and trying to outdo one another by climbing higher and higher up the trusses before jumping.

My then-boyfriend said his friend broke his collarbone jumping off of that bridge. Twice.

Maybe it was the later-discovered leech on my leg that sucked all the sense out of me, but I jumped off the bridge that day. This was, and is, completely out of character for me, but I decided to do something a little crazy for once. After I climbed over the guardrail — which was just one of many indications that this was Not A Good Idea — I spent about 10 minutes staring down at the water before I finally leapt.

I don't regret jumping. I do regret the resulting wedgie.

I decided that day that I didn't want to be the girl sitting on the beach watching all the other kids have fun. I wanted the view from the top, the excitement of breaking the rules. I wanted to see what was on the other side of my hesitation.

Just recently, on the morning of September 11th, I read this on Wise Bread:

"You'll never know what you like if you don't venture out of your bubble and expose yourself to the world. Try different things and keep an eye on yourself. What did you enjoy? Was there something you were skeptical about or something that made you nervous? What made your eyes sparkle or what makes you look back and smile? Explore the world. You'll be surprised at what you discover in the process."

I look back and smile when I think about jumping off of that bridge, and then I think about all of the other opportunities for adventure that I've opted out of in my life. What was holding me back? Fear, of course — of getting hurt, of getting in trouble, of being uncomfortable, of regretting having made the wrong decision. Fear of being afraid. How sad is that?

From the same article, I read:

"Don't live in fear. Don't be like the bird who never risked flapping her wings but longed every minute of her life to touch the sky."

So this weekend, I will touch the sky. I'm going skydiving with my brother. We're going to have a hell of a time.

Skydiving is one of those things that I've always wanted to do someday, but someday just turned into Sunday.

Chris Guillebeau writes, "If you’re on the fence about something, 'go for it and take action' is almost always better advice than 'think about it without doing anything.'" I've done a lot of thinking in my twenty-three years, and I have a lot of doing ahead of me to make up for it.

So I'm doing a 5K run next weekend. I'm doing a trip to the Gorge in October, which will probably be freezing-cold, but I'll love it anyway because I love Jack Johnson. I have a one-way plane ticket to the other side of the country for vacation plans that may or may not work out. If they don't, my friends and I will find something to do wherever we end up.

We regret the things we don’t do much more than the things we do.

I don't want to spend the rest of my life standing still.

Three life-changing things I've learned in the past 30 days (Part 2)

I've always had a vague idea of the way I wanted my life to be someday. I'd like a house near a major city. I'd like a Jack Russell terrier. I'd like a husband — tall, dark hair, a bit of charming geekiness about him. I'd like a couple of spunky kids who make me laugh every day. I'd like a window seat so I can sit and read and listen to the rain.

This scene comes with that fuzzy filter that's used in movies and TV shows to designate flashbacks and flash-forwards. "Someday" is an amorphous time in life, one that I hope to reach, well, someday. But I have a feeling that no matter how much time passes, "someday" will always be in the future, lingering just out of arm's reach. "Someday" is a mirage.

Think about it. Do you think life is rough now, but you'll be happier someday? Do you think someday you'll have that corner office, that car, that house, that husband or wife, and then you'll be happy? Are you living paycheck-to-paycheck but thinking that someday you'll be making $50,000 or $70,000 or $100,000 a year (choose your own magic number) and you'll finally have everything you need to be happy?

The second life-changing thing I've learned in the past 30 days is this:

2. You will achieve happiness and wealth only when you decide that what you have is enough.

This is an idea I've picked up from the book Your Money or Your Life, the blog Life After College and several other blogs in the personal finance/simple living realm. The idea is simple: If you're not content with what you have and you're always wanting something more, something different or something better, you'll never be satisfied.

Sometime in high school, I decided that I would die if I didn't go to New York University. I believed that I could only be happy there, and that NYU was the key that would unlock all of my hopes and dreams. I'm not sure why I believed this since I had never even visited NYU (no money), but I was determined to go there. My fallback schools were other colleges in New York, and my last-choice safety school was — can you guess? — the University of Washington.

I got into NYU. I was awarded tens of thousands of dollars in scholarships, but not nearly a full ride. Obviously, my parents couldn't afford to pay the remaining tuition, and my mom convinced me that I really, really didn't want to graduate with a boatload of student-loan debt. Did I mention that she is a very smart lady?

I was crushed. I have a whole journal from 2005 full of emo entries about how disappointed I was and about how much UW was going to suck. I was freakin' miserable.

But guess what? I had a blast at UW and can't imagine having gone anywhere else. I wasted a bunch of my 18th year of life being miserable for no reason. I should have been content with the amazing opportunity I was given — to attend UW with the help of an insanely generous four-year endowed scholarship — but I had pinned my hopes and my happiness on something more, something different, something better.

Your Money or Your Life illustrates the idea that "more, different, better" will always be unsatisfying:

"Our expectation is to make more money as the years go on. We will get more responsibility and more perks as we move up in our field. Eventually, we hope we will have more possessions, more prestige and more respect from our community. We become habituated to expecting ever more out of ourselves and ever more from the world, but rather than satisfaction, our experience is that the more we have, the more we want — and the less content we are with the status quo."

A great example of this idea comes from my close friend Diddy, who recently addressed rumors that he might replace Simon Cowell on American Idol. He said, "At first when people were asking me if I was interested in the job, I was like, no… that’s not my style, but once I heard what Simon makes… I would love the job. I’ve got six kids. If I would get the same check Simon gets… we would have a ball.”

Diddy is a special kind of person I like to call Insanely Rich. He gave his son a car worth more than $300,000 for his 16th birthday. But even he wants a bigger paycheck! To most people, Diddy is wealthy. To Diddy, Simon Cowell is wealthy. Simon Cowell is probably hustling for Oprah-caliber money right now. When will any of them think they have enough?

To me, wealth doesn't mean having $500,000 or $5 million. I'd say having $5 million doesn't mean sh!% if you're unhappy or always wanting more. My idea of wealth is having enough money to pay your expenses, save for retirement and spend on things you enjoy without having to worry that a life-changing event (job loss, car accident) will cause you to go bankrupt. If are in that position and are happy with what you have, no matter what the balance is in your bank account, you're wealthy in my book.

If "more" won't make us happy, then what will? Your Money or Your Life says the peak of fulfillment is recognizing that you have enough. In terms of money and possessions, this means:

"Enough for our survival. Enough comforts. And even enough little 'luxuries.' We have everything we need; there's nothing extra to weigh us down, distract us or distress us, nothing we've bought on [borrowed] time, have never used and are slaving to pay off. Enough is a fearless place. A trusting place. An honest and self-observing place."

I've been successful with this mindset of having enough in terms of my minivan. Yeah, it's not cool. Yeah, it's falling apart. Yeah, I could probably buy a nicer used car with the money I have at this point. But the minivan runs. It gets me where I need to go. I always have been and always will be grateful just to have it. It's enough.

I think contentment really is a fearless place because it means that you're fine with what you have regardless of what other people think. Judgment and comparison are big threats to "enough."

I'm becoming content with things I used to worry more about, like the fact that I already have more than enough clothes. Yeah, they're not the newest or most fashionable clothes, and I wear them over and over again — my typical boring-but-comfortable outfit consists of jeans and a solid-colored, v-neck tee — but they are enough for me.

My salary isn't very high, but I can cover my expenses and still sock away some money in savings, and it's enough for me. I don't even have an actual bedroom right now — long story — but I have a comfortable bed and all the privacy I need, and it's enough for me. I don't have a boyfriend right now, but I'm enjoying my time alone and with my best friends, and it's enough for me.

Maybe all any of us needs to do is take a good, long look at any aspect of our lives that we feel is lacking. Ask yourself, "Do I really need more this, different that, or a better something-or-other?" You may realize that you already have enough, and then you can can just stop worrying so much.

This is not to say that one shouldn't have goals or not strive for better things in life — I am huge on having goals. But don't pin your happiness on that goal. Be happy now. You may never reach the brass ring, but you sure as hell can have a good time on the carousel while you try.

Jenny Blake wrote a whole blog post about "enough." I'll quote it liberally here because it's pretty great:

"Stop delaying your dreams or your happiness until some future state of perfection — you already have all of the skills, resources and talent you need.
...
"If you are constantly longing for the past or waiting for the future, your entire life will be spent — well, longing or waiting. Joy is fleeting if we don't stop to appreciate where we are now, and remember that who we are and where we are is enough.

"So instead of waiting for the future — for some future state where you suddenly have enough or are enough — be the future. Live and embody it; act as though it were here. It is. There is no there, or better state. Make the most of this one — it is right where you should be — and the only place that's real."

Three life-changing things I've learned in the past 30 days (Part 3) will be about... actually, I'm not sure yet. I had something in mind but now I'll have to choose between a couple of great things. Or I could just change it to four or five things. Decisions!

Three life-changing things I've learned in the past 30 days (Part 1)

I've been doing a lot reading recently. A lot of reading, thinking, reflecting, stewing, dreaming. Here is the first of three life-changing things I've learned in the past 30 days:

1. You don't have to live your life the way other people expect you to.

This idea comes straight (literally, verbatim) from Chris Guillebeau, whose blog (and now book), The Art of Non-Conformity, is a wake-up call, a revolution and a tall glass of awesomeness all in one.

Chris — a UW grad! — is 125 countries deep into his five-year quest to visit all the countries in the world. He has never had a "real job," but has worked successfully as an entrepreneur in everything from importing coffee to blogging to writing "unconventional guides," which he sells on his Web site.

The point is that Chris's life is the opposite of what I've always thought my life would and should be. I grew up thinking that I needed to work hard in school (I did) so I could get a scholarship to go to college (I did) so I could graduate (I did) and get a good job (I did) so I could make good money (I am) to live happily (am I?).

I've always believed that travelling was never in the cards for me. My family couldn't afford vacations, so why would I expect to be able to roam the world?

In college, I considered the idea of studying abroad for maybe a moment — I wouldn't let myself entertain the idea any further and get my hopes up. I never thought it would be possible for me to take a year off after graduation to backpack through Europe or road trip across the U.S., like many of my peers did. In fact, I considered it irresponsible for kids to travel after graduation, as if they were attempting to avoid the "real world."

But what world is more real than this big, bad Earth of ours? The real world is not confined to a high-rise. Real life is not lived in a cubicle.

Chris's unconventional approach to work and travel has made me realize that I don't need to live my life the way I expected to. The things I've thought were "never in the cards" for me are now up for grabs. I've freed myself from things that were holding me hostage (debt, self-doubt) and I'm dealing my own cards now. Why not shuffle the deck a bit?

Besides, look what came in the mail today:

My very first passport. I can has adventures!

I'm not quitting my job. I like my job! But realizing that I have all the freedom in the world to go wherever I want is quite a revolution for me. I'm ready and able to visit places I've only dreamt about (and seen on Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations) before. And paid time off is a beautiful thing.

But I may be like Chris someday and buck the 8-to-5 workday. Skip town. See the world because I can, and should. For now, I'll just be plotting little adventures because I can, and should. And because I wasted the first 23-and-a-half years of my life never believing I could.


Three life-changing things I've learned in the past 30 days (Part 2) will be about achieving happiness and wealth. I totally figured out how to do it! OK, not really, but kind of. Stay tuned.

The reasons

I've written quite a bit about my quest to get out of debt and build up my savings before I move out on my own, but I haven't written very much about why it's so important to me.

I don't want to save a bunch of money so I can be rich and buy whatever I want. I don't want to live in a mansion, drive a Maserati and have a lot of expensive toys someday. Taking control of my money is not about putting myself in a position to buy more "stuff." It's about putting myself in a position where I can be free.

The classic, bestselling book Your Money or Your Life (which I'm currently reading) puts it best:

"To have savings is to be free. Savings means freedom from debt. Money in the bank means the freedom to leave your job if the boss is intolerable or the benefits have just been yanked. And if you lose your job, having savings is the freedom to keep your house and car because you can cover your payments — if you have any to make in the first place."

Having savings also gives you the freedom to do work you love for less pay. It gives you the freedom to live your life without constantly worrying about making ends meet. It gives you the freedom to retire at age 65, or earlier, knowing that you'll be able to cover basic expenses for the remainder of your life. And yes, it gives you the freedom to buy toys, to travel, to give fantastic gifts, to donate, to do whatever you want. Freedom.

My family didn't have this type of freedom while I was growing up. My dad lost his job when I was in the third grade, and from then on, I can't remember feeling very financially secure.

We always had a roof over our heads, food on the table and clothes on our backs, but I was always very aware that my family had much less than other kids' families. I was very aware that my parents sacrificed big-time so that my brother and I could stay in the same school district with all of our friends. In a few years, and in the same city, we moved from a house to a rental house to a too-small apartment with too-few bedrooms. My parents got divorced.

I'm not saying life would have been perfectly rosy if we had just had more money; it's fruitless to look back on life and say, "If only...". But I do know that I can change my life in ways that will ensure that my future family will never have to go through the same types of moves, and that my future kids won't have to have the same types of worries and fears about money that I had growing up.

Of course, every generation hopes to do better than their parents. Rebekah Monson wrote a fantastic article about how twentysomethings are dealing with the crappy hand we've been dealt by the floundering economy, and about how our observations of previous generations have informed our values and goals:

"We are working and waiting for a chance to change the establishment to reflect our values. No, we don’t want what you have, just as you didn’t want what your parents had. We don’t want to spend our lives as perpetually burned-out slaves to a company that does not value us. We don’t want to be in bad marriages and isolate ourselves in McMansions. Neither did you when you were our age. Of course those things will happen to some of us, or perhaps most of us. But, right now, we’d rather hope they won’t."

I can't guarantee that I'll have a happy marriage or satisfying work life in the future, but I can arm myself with the knowledge and tools I'll need to help me do my very best to achieve those goals. About half of all marriages fail, and Dave Ramsey says that money problems are the biggest causes of divorce. I'm doing what I can now to, as Kanye says, "get my money right" so I can have a better shot at success.

As a currently single gal, I also agree 100% with Jenny Blake's "money manifesto" on Life After College about funding her own independence. She writes (emphasis hers):

"I made a promise to myself a long time ago — before I ever started collecting paychecks — to never stay in a job or a relationship because I can't afford to leave.

"When I was in college my mom told me that even if I get married someday, I should always know how to support myself. I should always know where my money is going, how to bring home a steady paycheck, and how to pay the bills if anything ever happened (like death or divorce)."

Right on, sister. My mom told me the very same thing. To feel trapped, whether it's in a terrible job, living situation or relationship, is one of my biggest fears.

So the reasons for my newfound obsession with personal finance are numerous, but they can all be summarized by these two: my desire to be free in every aspect of life, and my hope that I can do a little bit better as a worker, a daughter, a friend, a someday-wife and a someday-mother than I would have been able to before I got my money right.

Or maybe a lot bit better. Dream big.

A sense of possibilities

Today is my one-year anniversary.

On September 1, 2009, I started my first "grown-up" job as a proofreader at a downtown ad agency. I remember exactly what I wore: J. Crew trouser-leg jeans, a J. Crew tank and a J. Crew cardigan. I shuffled in wearing J. Crew ballet flats, bursting with three years' worth of sweater-folding knowledge from my college retail job, but boasting zero years' worth of proofreading experience.

The job required 2+ years. God only knows why they hired me.

But here I am, one year later, having more than succeeded in my first year of full-time employment. Only 42 more years to go.

I also moved back home exactly one year ago. I remember frantically cleaning my college apartment the night of August 31, desperately wishing the landlord would do his final walk-through so I could go home and get some sleep before my first day of work. His already-grubby finger found dust on my roommate's windowsill. She had cleared out of town hours earlier. I cried.

I've thought a lot this past year about what it means to be a grown-up. Part of me hopes that grown-ups are a myth, like Santa Claus, invented by alleged "grown-ups" to manipulate children into behaving or just plain shutting up. "Only grown-ups are allowed to do this," we tell them, or, "You'll find out when you're a grown-up." When exactly is this, I ask?

I considered that graduating from college means you're a grown-up, but then I realized I knew way too many people with degrees that still had a lot of growing up to do. My first day of work felt very grown-up to me, as did choosing my own health insurance for the first time and realizing that I now had paid time off.

But I've decided that reaching these arbitrary milestones does not necessarily make one a grown-up. I believe now that being a grown-up has much more to do with one's attitude, priorities and methods of decision-making.

A recent article in The New York Times Magazine called What Is It About 20-Somethings? explored the phenomenon of my age group taking much longer to "grow up" than previous generations. It details the idea of a phase of life that follows adolescence called "emerging adulthood," championed by psychology professor Jeffrey Jensen Arnett, that I strongly identify with:

Arnett says that young men and women are more self-focused than at any other time of life, less certain about the future and yet also more optimistic, no matter what their economic background. This is where the “sense of possibilities” comes in, he says; they have not yet tempered their ideal­istic visions of what awaits.
...
But despite elements that are exciting, even exhilarating, about being this age, there is a downside, too: dread, frustration, uncertainty, a sense of not quite understanding the rules of the game. More than positive or negative feelings, what Arnett heard most often was ambivalence — beginning with his finding that 60 percent of his subjects told him they felt like both grown-ups and not-quite-grown-ups.

I do have a sense of possibilities, and I'm saddened to know that one day this sense may disappear. I'd like to retain that, if I can, from this odd and mixed-up time in my life.

And I've definitely grown to feel more like an adult since I've lived at home this past year. I thought it would make me feel more like a kid again, living under the watchful eye of my mom and all, but I've found that I've learned much from her about being a responsible adult. She's shown me how to clean up some messes in my life, like my debt, of course, and helped me deal with new conflicts, like those that have emerged at work. Rather than acting as a capital-M Mom, telling me what to do, she's been a role model and a peer, helping me learn how to navigate the adult world.

As a college student, I often stayed up all night, whether I was studying, writing or partying. I ate horribly. I got sick often, and relied on coffee and Red Bull and adrenaline to get me through classes, my retail job and my internships (at one point, I was doing two simultaneously, on top of everything else). But I also excelled in most of my classes. I had a fantastic four years packed with tons of fun. I look back on it all very fondly.

But after graduation, I came down from that frenzied lifestyle with a thud. I was exhausted. I clutched my degree, happy to have walked to victory in my cap and gown, but unsure of what to do next. I needed to take a breather. I needed to move home, calm down, get some rest and gear up for the next stage of life.

My priorities have shifted this past year. I make sleep a priority. I make eating well a priority. I've made taking control of my finances a priority. I've been trying to identify the things that make me really happy — like spending time with close friends, writing, taking photos, reading for fun and learning new things — and make those priorities. I'm also learning how to cut things out of my life that make me unhappy.

Financially, I've learned how to delay pleasure in order to reap greater rewards in the future. I've put a bunch of money that I could certainly use today into a retirement fund, and I get pleasure from knowing that it will be way more useful down the line. Only 42 more years to go.

Whether or not I'm officially a grown-up doesn't matter that much to me. What matters is that I'm owning my life, making decisions that are far more mature and responsible than many I would have made four years ago (but still some stupid ones, too), and, yes, enjoying this sense of possibilities. I believe I can do anything. Perhaps that is the highlight of this in-between phase, and if I must lose this sense in order to fully become an adult, then I don't ever wanna grow up.

Life in cartoon motion

My dad and I got the same phone several weeks ago, a Samsung Vibrant (aka Galaxy S), from T-Mobile. We're both used to having horribly outdated phones, so when we got together for dinner recently, we spent nearly the entire meal showing each other the cool features we'd discovered.

The 5.0 megapixel camera shoots in several different modes, but, being extremely whimsical and childlike, I fixated on one that my dad showed me: cartoon mode.

It puts such a fun spin on life. The animation kind of reminds me of King of the Hill.

My dad took a picture of me on his phone... which I took a picture of with my phone. OK, so we're pretty lame. But it's a whole new world of AWESOME for us!

So I've been documenting random moments of my life in cartoons because, um, why not? Call it my homage to Gabriel Campanario's Seattle Sketcher column, minus the actual talent that's involved in his work. You can click each photo to view a larger, more detailed version. Enjoy!

And then back to reality...

...which ain't so bad itself.

(I stole the title of this post from Mika's 2007 debut album, Life in Cartoon Motion. I saw him perform at The Fillmore in San Francisco with my college roommate a few years back — awesome. What ever happened to him??)