Defining Ourselves.

I began this post over a year ago - July 7, 2010 to be exact - and just now came upon it while reading through the 20-or-so entries I've yet to post. I don't remember the comment that my former roommate made nor can I recall the exact conversation that I had with the boy who fulfilled his role as my 'crush' remarkably well (for he did indeed crush... my spirit that is), but on the night of the 4th of July, after swimming in the ocean, consuming an unadvisable amount of alcohol, watching the fireworks, and fighting with my childhood best friend, I found myself on the steps of my tiny beach house engaged in the sort of conversation I live for.

I think there are few and sporadic days where we are exactly the person we strive to be - the person we claim to be, but know we are not. The person we hope to one day become; a combination of all the best qualities we seek and find in those surrounding us.

An unexpected conversation with an unusual subject along with a single comment made by my roommate turned my life upside down in the best possible way.

My conversations with both of these people led me to question:

Who are we really at any given moment?

How do we define ourselves - by our actions, dreams, intentions?

Am I the same Taylor at this very moment that I was a few nights ago on my front porch at 2:30am?

When will I know that I have become the person I've been dreaming up? That I've aspired for so long to be?

How do we change the aspects of ourselves that we could do without? How long does it take to rid ourselves of them? Will they ever truly be gone?

I'm a thinker, but by now you've probably realized that. These questions run around in my head like my preschoolers run around the gym floor... over and over and over again.

If you were ever to ask me who I am, I would probably tell you who I am becoming.

And if you were to ever ask me who I am becoming, I would most likely let you know who I want to be.

Because at any given moment I'm not exactly positive of who I am.

But if you were to ask...

I may convince you that I am kind to a fault, and a well versed empathetic. I would relay my passions of helping the homeless and filling my brain with all the knowledge it can possibly hold. I could show you just how silly I am and why people constantly laugh at/with me for no particular reason at all.

And if you decided to see for yourself...

You would witness my sad smile and sparkling eyes and see how much my 5'1" frame truly holds. You would experience my awkwardness and my tendency to complain about pointless things. And if you were lucky enough, you would notice that my anger is non-existent and my energy unavoidable.

But my empathy and smile, energy and eyes, are just mere aspects of who I am, and vary from day to day. There are moments when my smile isn't quite so sad, and my eyes as dull as a 9:00 -5:00 office job.

However, a few nights ago, while sitting on my front porched in the middle of the night conversing with a good friend, I felt as if I were exactly the person I wanted to be in that particular moment.

Maybe there are particular moments in our lives that help to define us. Or maybe there are particular versions of ourselves for given circumstances.

We can't always be happy or sad. Full of dreams or entirely apathetic. But there are situations that call for such emotions; states of mind. And perhaps being true to those feelings, and accepting the moments of clarity and chaos for what they are allows us to define ourselves.

...

Simply living from the inside out.

Today I am Taylor. Reminiscent but content. Dreaming of a different life yet enjoying a movie, the presence of my roommate, and a large glass of wine. Today I am passionate about children, loving, and eager to please. I am sporting that same sad smile and sparkling eyes that most days define me. Tomorrow is a new day, and I will be a new Taylor, always and forever striving to be the person I know I want to become.

Happily Every After's

We believed in 'once upon a time's and happily ever after's.

We put on beautiful dresses from our mothers' closet and twirled around holding our fathers' hands.

We painted our faces with our sister's make up and curled our frumpy hair -- strutting around proclaiming we were the most beautiful girls in all of the world.

We got in bed at night truly believing that one day, when we were older, we'd be swept away by a gorgeous man in a white suit.

We were three feet tall with dreams that reached the ceiling.

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And then we were on the floor of our bedrooms shoulder to shoulder giggling about the brown haired boy we sat next to in biology.

We passed notes in class that were taken away and read aloud by our teachers and then gossiped about for days on end.

We thought long and hard about what our first kiss would be like - and then replayed it over and over and over in our minds once it finally happened.

We searched the internet for the perfect gown and imagined every detail of our wedding day.

We believed in fate and miracles and true love.

We were pre-pubescent, wide-eyed, naive, love struck 15 year olds.

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And then we were laying under the stars saying 'I love you' for the very first time.

We were accepting kisses in public, breaking curfew, and reveling in new found privacy.

We were ending high school relationships in anticipation of a better future.

We imagined we'd find a man as great as our fathers and as funny as our brothers once we stepped foot on our college campuses.

We were 18 and ready to find the one who would someday become our husband.

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And then we convinced ourselves that we had entered the decade of 'hook-up culture' and were okay with it - leading to midnight ronde-vu's with emotionally unavailable musicians.

We topped off bottles of wine and cried while watching Breakfast at Tiffany's - wishing there were a place where we and things fit together.

We found ourselves on the floor in the fetal position attempting to hold ourselves together when it seemed like nothing else would work.

We were jaded and defeated. Swearing off boys and cursing every childish fantasy we ever believed in.

We denounced our faith, our belief in destiny, and the kind of commitment that meant forever.

We claimed we didn't believe in relationships - that true love doesn't exit. That fairy tales are just fairy tales and marriage is some silly institution that we buy into with the anticipation of bailing out of.

We were heartbroken, deceived, and stupid 21 year olds with little belief in humanity.

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Yet we find ourselves reliving our first true love. Picturing ourselves holding the hand of our high school boyfriend, remembering the kisses that made our backs tingle, and the complete trust we had in the other.

We still get the butterflies when the boy from our most recent break-up gives us hugs where our feet come off the ground and hate that we continue to love the feeling.

We lay on our roommates' beds hashing out every detail of every encounter with every boy we've had in last few weeks until there is nothing left to pick apart.

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Because in the deepest pit of our stomachs, in the furthest inch of our hearts, and in the very tips of our toes we find the hope that we once believed in.

After all...

... we grew up with once upon a time's and happily every after's.

Ready to Run

As a child I never ran away.

I never left home.

I never packed a bag and wandered out the front door on my way to what I could only imagine would be a better place.

No.

I never ran away.

Because I never wanted to leave.

But my sister did.

She wasn't more than five when she packed a bag complete with an extra pair of underwear, a jacket, and her favorite stuffed animal: a bunny wearing a pink dress with bows tied around her ears.

She walked out of the bedroom we shared as little girls, took a right down the green carpeted hallway, and then another to the front door, where to her surprise our mom was sitting in the dining room to her left quietly reading a novel.

Upon seeing my baby sister with a backpack weighing her down and her white blonde hair matted in eight different directions asked:

"Morgan, what are you doing?"

"I'm running away" she declared matter-of-fact-ly

(Sweet little girl didn't realize you don't announce to the people you are running from that you are indeed running from them.)

"So then where are you going" my mother continued to question

"To Grandma Gailing's house" she replied...

Sweet little Margo never made it to our grandparent's house in Orange County - a 30 minute car ride and who knows how long of a walk away.

In fact, she never made it out the front door.

As a little girl, my sister attempted to run away.

She was convinced there was a place better than home.

(Whether or not that belief was the result of 3 persuasive older siblings is irrelevant, she wanted to run, so she ran.)

She wanted something different, something new, something that would bring her happiness.

Okay, maybe she just wanted to visit our grandparents who had an endless supply of hershey kisses and peanuts, a piano, The Goose and the Golden Egg on VHS, and paperweights in every shape with stacks of paper for tracing.

(Seriously, who wouldn't want to be there?!)

But lets pretend that she wanted something different, something new, something that would bring her increased happiness.

For her, that was Grandma's.

I bet she doesn't remember running away.

But I remember her running away.

________

As I revel in my new found freedom I often dream of running

But to where? With whom? When? How?

It isn't as simple as packing a backpack complete with an extra pair of underwear, a jacket, and my favorite stuffed animal: a tiger with endless holes from too much love that still has a home on my bed today.

Running doesn't constitute walking out the front door and making my way to Grandma Gailing's house.

Running is no longer black and white; cut and dry. It is not simply deciding that leaving is better than staying.

It is an internal battle. Self betrayal. Maybe even giving up?

Running doesn't constitute a change of pace, it is starting over.

Leaving everything behind, reinventing myself, getting lost in the possibilities of what could be..

.. not being stuck in what currently is.

It involves long conversations with my parents, siblings, and best friends.

Searching Craigslist for apartments in Washington DC, houses in Santa Monica, and careers abroad.

It is counting, and recounting every penny I've managed to save.

And cursing myself for each nickel I decided to spend.

It is weighing the pros and cons.

The opportunities and limitations.

It is going to bars, meeting new people, getting drunk, and making stupid decisions.

Then reliving those nights with my surrogate family, deciding what to do next.

It is wonderful nights and devastating days.

Meandering around town searching for the perfect spot of spend my free time.

It is arguments resulting in tears followed by apologies - giving me all the more reason to want to run.

It is my heart fighting my brain.

My body fighting my spirit.

It is a constant teeter totter.

Back and forth.

I should go.

I should stay.

________

I was a quiet child, content with where I was at all times.

I spent a lot of time by myself, reading, imagining, dreaming.

I preferred coffee to alcohol.

Books to parties.

My parents to boyfriends.

I loved home.

Absolutely loved it.

Even now, 4 years after leaving my beloved home.

I prefer coffee shops to bars.

My best friends to boys.

Movies to nights out.

Do I deal?

Or do I run?

Spontaneity has never been one of my strong suits. But maybe it is time for something different.

Maybe I should learn from my once 4 year old sister. Pack up all my belongings, drop them off in Chino, and head North...

To Santa Monica?

To Dc?

To Italy?

There will always be a $200,000 loan shark tailing me.

Just like there will always be drunken nights, broken hearts, regretful decisions, irritating roommates, lonely days spent in coffee shops, and ridiculous nights at work.

Maybe it is time

Or just the lack of sunshine.

Maybe it is my never ending curiosity

Or my susceptibility to stir-crazy-ness.

Maybe it is my new found freedom and change of mind-set

Or my being fed up with my brain working over time.

I want so desperately to run. But deep down I know running wont bring me any closer to what I'm searching for.

Perhaps I'll just settle for the possibility of gaining new perspectives when I go to North Carolina in August. New York in October. Spain in May.

I'm reluctant to stay.

And reluctant to leave.

I need direction.

Where to go and what to do.

I need freedom.

From this internal battle and self-betrayal.

But until then...

You can find me in one of many coffee shops in San Diego.

With my nose in a book, Donavon Frankenreiter in my ears, and my brain in a cloud of possibilities.

My sister ran away once,

And I've yet to follow her footsteps.

Fuuuuuck!

When FUCK is the only word you can muster

and your tears are flowing freely

Love surfaces in the most unexpected of places.

Awkward Encounters

I am beginning to think I should start taking detailed notes about my life so one day I can write a book much like Sloan Crosley's "I Was Told There Would Be Cake" and "How Did You Get This Number." It would be a nice little hard cover full of all the awkward situations I find myself in and how I respond to such emotionally taxing circumstances.

I am not sure how or why, but I am a magnetic field for awkwardness.

It finds me wherever I go and there is no escaping it!

When your mind wanders off and you're caught in a daze thinking up the worst possible scenarios that you could imagine yourself in

... They are happening to me.

When you are gossiping with your friends and find yourself saying through uncontrollable giggles

"Wouldn't it be humilating to walk up to the podium and not get an award?"

"What if you got on the airplane and had to sit next to his mom!"

"I would just die if he found out we were talking about him!"

"Oh my gosh, I seriously hope I don't run into so-and-so, that would be terrible!"

... Yup, you guessed it. They are happening to me.

Folks, your worst nightmares are absolutely my reality!

I really did walk up to the podium in front of hundreds of people to get a medal I didn't earn at a gymnastics competition. I thought they had called my name but because I was so focused on my fist full of goldfish crackers I couldn't hear correctly and embarrassed the living hell out of my 6 year old self.

And the summer after my Sophomore year in college I flew to DC to spend a week with some family. On the way home at the airport in... Texas maybe... I was last to board the plane and take my assigned seat. (It is important that you know I hadn't showered that morning or managed to run a brush through my hair.) As I quickly pushed my belongings under my seat and opened my novel to start reading, the lady sitting next to me noticed my sweatshirt and asked if I attended USD. We got to talking. Turns out... she's the mother of this boy I once dated - who refused to introduce me to his family. I mean, what are the chances I sit next to my ex boyfriends mom on a 4 hour flight from Texas to Ontario Airport? I, entirely mortified, read my novel cover to cover to avoid talking to her about her son and the terrible way he treats women.

In college I had a crush on one of my professors. Actually, a crush, is being too modest. I had a debilitating crush on one of my professors, to the point where I could barely respond to his questions of my well being without my palms getting sweaty and my heart beating through my chest. He wore a short sleeve shirt to class one day, showing the tiniest bit of his mysterious tattoo, not to mention, he was being totally charming that day. I turned to the girl who sat behind me and started gossiping about said teacher when he says, "Ms. Gailing, care to share with the class what you and Ms. Wright are laughing about?" I almost peed my pants.

But most notably, most horrifying and humiliating, and perhaps most likely to drive me to run my car off the pier... the grand finale of all circumstances I could possibly find myself in happened yesterday. While all of you were enjoying your Memorial Day I was taking shots of tequila to keep the giggles down and my sarcasm from spewing out of my mouth.

I was sitting with some friends enjoying margaritas and appetizers on the patio of a delicious restaurant in PB when in walks in the boy I most recently dated and the girl he is currently dating (boy started dating girl roughly a week after we ended things.). They decide to sit at the table directly to the left of me. I downed what was left of my drink, got the giggles, banged my head against the table, and tried to make myself invisible. It didn't work. The next thing I heard was TAYLOR! come out of the mouth of the boy who I'd tried my best to hate and was unsuccessful until yesterday. I reluctantly turned around and responded with Ummmmm Hi???

Then...

Current girlfriend turns around.

I flash her my best fake smile and cover my face with my curly hair.

She goes to the bathroom.

He continues to stare.

I feel a hole burning in the back of my head.

I turn around.

We make small talk.

She returns and caresses him.

And then I ever so desperately ask my friends if they would buy me a shot of tequila to ease the pain.

They agree.

They ask the waiter, "Can we get her a shot of Tequila?"

He asks "Do you all want one?"

They respond, "No just her"

We have an audience.

Of course, we have an audience.

I flash another fake smile.

He says goodbye.

They leave.

I can't look up.

Honestly. What are the chances? Of all the places to go to eat, of all the hours in a single day, it had to be 4 o'clock and a table away.

I've learned to laugh at my extreme lack of good luck/excessive amount of bad luck. Because encounters like these allow me to revel in my awkwardness, they give me reasons to take shots of tequila, and justify my roaming around PB taking pictures and cursing certain individuals.

I wish I could avoid said boy and his girlfriend. But God knows I'll make an ass out of myself again Thursday night and tequila won't be available until hours after this anticipated awkward encounter...

So pour me a shot, I'll be waiting.

Post tequila adventures:

Looking Back.

For an entire year I've been mentally crossing off calendar days with an indelible red marker with anticipation and excitement, eagerly awaiting the arrival of May 22, 2011. And as the days quickly pass and the 22nd is within view, I feel ready - so very ready to start my life in a world of freedom and chaos. After picking up my cap and gown, sending out my graduation announcements, and solidifying reservations I am prepared to walk across the stage, shake Mary Lions' hand, and officially end my undergraduate career.

My journey through USD didn't constitute the best days of my life, but they were perfect. Perfectly heartbreaking, perfectly inspiring, and perfectly perfect. For the last four years I've been a creature of habit, of routine. I have been a slave to assignments and responsibility; days full of tasks to be crossed off lists with a sense of accomplishment. I've kept myself busy with dedication and hard work - pouring my heart and soul into papers and classroom debates.

Now as I am mentally preparing myself for what will be my biggest accomplishment thus far in my 22 year old life, I've alloted myself a great deal of time to think back on my college career and highlight what has challenged me, changed me, and made me me these past four years.

I've compiled a list of moments that I am truly grateful I've had the opportunity to experience. Moments of insanity, delirium, and unmeasurable happiness. Moments of confusion, frustration, and overwhelming doubt. Moments I will keep with me forever.

My favorite Random Moments.

*Although I only vaguely remember wearing a blue shirt to dinner at La Paloma freshman year, that night marked the beginning of a friendship I wouldn't encounter until the end of my junior year. I met a girl I instantly adored and who is now one of the most amazing people I've come to know. My past summer roommate, and soon to be permanent roommate, my favorite friend, and self-less confidant Kendra Obsurn.

*Ethics with Zwolinski was a no-brainer course. With my forever curious disposition and reliable study buddies, camping out in the Student Life Pavilion at 2:00am tackling the material for that final seemed like no problem, until every joke turned sexual and I laughed until I started sobbing. Kevin O'Malley and Jonathan Fein helped create my fondest finals memory.

*We decided going on SEARCH the weekend before our 35 page methods paper was due was a great idea. And although the retreat was absolutely spectacular I think sitting in the library with Anjuli Wright, Kara Kimball, Nina Baum, Christina Ellsworth, and Jeff Baucher delirious from a sleepless weekend and frantically typing away was even more amazing...

*Every sociology major dreads the semester in which they are forced to take Classical (or is it Contemporary) Sociological Theory with Dr. Reifer. And although that class was quite possibly the hardest course I've ever take, literally stalking Dr. Reifer all semester to ensure I'd get an A and then showing up 40 minutes late my final made for quite an entertaining semester.

*It is entirely devastating when every single one of your closest friends graduate the year before you, but ending that year by drinking whisky out of a flask while smashed in the trunk of an SUV on your way to their senior night at Stingaree made everything momentarily okay.

Opportunities of a Lifetime.

*My Sophomore year I decided to embark on an alternative spring break that took place at Nazareth Farm West Virginia. Not only did I spend a week living and serving in the heart of one of the most poverty stricken areas in America while surviving off of $2 a day, but I experienced more faith, love and community in that single week than I had ever known at USD. I saw God in the faces of the community members who literally had nothing but were overwhelmingly generous and loving. That week solidified my passion for helping those in poverty and my belief in a higher power.

*As a student leader in the CASA office for issues surrounding hunger and homelessness, I had the opportunity to participate in Project Homeless Connect. On this particular day in December I met a man who changed my life. His name was James A. Barrera and he taught me what it meant to love. I blogged about James a while ago, read about him here.

*Through the same organization listed above I was flown to Chicago to attend The National Student Campaign Against Hunger and Homelessness. A weekend full of seminars, testimonies, and first hand conversations with countless homeless individuals I realized my life goal and was inspired to never stop fighting for those whose lives were reduced to living on the streets because they couldn't keep up with the capitalistic world we live in.

*As part of my Research Methods class I mentored a senior at Mark Twain High School (an alternative school for 'last chance' students so to speak). And although I knew nothing about geometry those Monday afternoons I spent with Camille brightened my week. I watched a meek and insecure young girl find confidence in herself. A girl that once spoke of wanting nothing more than to be done with school began talking about attending community college. Perhaps Camille felt lucky to have someone spend two hours a week with her and receive the one-on-one attention she was desperately lacking, but I felt lucky to have met Camille that semester.

*SEARCH XXVI was absolutely the most heartbreaking weekend of my life. But despite the tragic witnesses, and the millions of tears that fell from my eyes, and the anger I felt with God I left with a sense of hope, a new found community, and an understanding of the power of love.

*I would never have guessed that waking up at 3:00am for 3 consecutive days to survey homeless people would have been a wonderful experience, but my mandatory participation in the 100,000 Homes National Campaign - Downtown San Diego Registry Week left me angry, hopeful, inspired, and forever questioning. I experienced a new image of homelessness, that of a 22 year old boy with a life just like mine except instead of attending a four year university he was sleeping along the harbor in DT San Diego. I blogged about this experience too, read about it here.

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I could drag this entry on forever because USD has given me so much to be grateful for. And although I'm sure I'll find myself desperately missing the castle on top of the hill I am absolutely ready to see this semester come to an end. Not only will May 22nd bring an end to my academic career, but it will bring closure to a devastating semester - a semester full of more heartache than I ever imaged I'd have to deal with months before the most exciting day of my young life.

So with that, thank you, thank you, thank you everyone who made these past four years memorable! I am forever grateful!

i planned on disappearing today

but the universe thought otherwise

it showered me with hugs and pokes and silly banter

slowly releasing the infinite tears that were held hostage behind my eyes

maybe tomorrow,

the world might be a little nicer then...

Picture: Stolen from Lo's Facebook page