another

Another year, another birthday, another grey hair just waiting to be noticed. When you turn 13 you think that you should be able to stay out till the sun comes up, wear the tightest clothes, and listen to music with words that aren’t in the dictionary. Then comes 25. You are either single, in a relationship, married, or don’t really care because you are still finding yourself and growing in to the person you want to become. 

A new candle gets added to our cake each year and we can either cringe and wait for the smoke alarms to go off or we can celebrate. Celebrate that we were given another year to grow and laugh and breathe. We had 365 more days to spend with our families, dip our toes in the sand, get a sunburn on a hot summer day, be in our best friends wedding. 

 Don't forget to laugh and cry in those cherishable moments, soaking each memory in. Embrace another candle, another slice of cake, another year.

best days of my life

I was in third grade when we drove to the High School for an event. I peered out the bus window, looking at the girls flipping their hair and the boys playing hacky sac like it was going to be an Olympic sport one day. I pictured myself as them; what I was going to wear, how my hair would look, who my friends would be. I couldn’t wait to be at that age where I could go to bed without being told, stay out a little later on the weekends, and drive my own car to the places where I wanted to go. I was eager for those branded “best days of my life.”

I was sure I would have shoulder length hair because that was the style. And scrunchies around my wrist? I'd have three. I would wear my backpack but only have one strap on my shoulder because that was cool and I was going to be cool. I would laugh with my friends as we walked out those school doors, talking about boys and soccer and who was going to be crowned Prom queen. I would drive home with the music turned up too loud and the windows rolled down. I would sneak out and live life on the edge, eating too much ice cream and sleeping in till noon.

The “best days of my life” came and went and so did the scrunchie fad. I stayed out too late most weekends and pierced my belly button without asking my mom. I went to church every Sunday but never paid attention because the only thing on my mind was my crush on the hot senior boy who had no clue I was even walking on this earth. Sure, High School was great and all, but I beg to differ that the rest of my days aren’t going to be the best.

We label things and go along with them because that’s the way we were made. We go with what everyone says instead of forming our own opinion and outlook. Individualism is always a plus yet we always cave in when someone bashes our uniqueness. Our own talents go unnoticed because we are too afraid to use them, scared of putting ourselves out there for others to judge and critique. 

I choose to go against society on this topic. I'm going to celebrate the little things that probably aren't worth celebrating but I'm going to anyways because I’m going to make every day a great day. A solid parallel park, almost perfectly painted nails, a clear blue sky, buying something with the batteries already included, an endorphin-pumping run, a smile from a stranger, picking the perfect nacho off the plate, and my list goes (and will go) on.

Join me. Pick out the smallest of things and throw them a party because I’m convinced that every day is the best day.  

What are you throwing a party for today? 

sunday funday

When you read that title you probably think my day involved drinking beer or taking shots. Or both. Sadly (or not so sadly) the only things I've drank today are coffee and water. Gettin' crazy up in here!

My day was fun because I did everything I enjoy doing. Aren't those days the best? When you look back and realize you did what you want to do and not what your boss or friends or mom wants you to. In the rush of life we get so caught up with making deadlines that we forget to do the activities that keep us sane. 

I woke up with a sore throat, runny nose, and headache. Great. I had a scheduled 10 mile run and the thought of tying up my laces alone made me want to pass out. In Carrie fashion, I made a cup of coffee and went on with my morning. 

As I sat down in the back row, I noticed that everyone around me was either married or with their significant other. Sweet. The music started playing and my thoughts went from "do you have to be in a relationship to go to this church because I am so single it's not even funny" to "sup God. How you doin?". 

Church was followed by that dreaded 10 miler. I met up with Stephanie (small world: met at my apt. gym and found out she is from ND and went to Concordia) and off we went! The park was full of people as the weather was 65, sunny, and every bit of perfect for a Sunday afternoon. I've been having knee problems so between 7-10 miles I wanted to cry and scream and throw a fit and cut my legs off and yeah, you get the picture. 

 Wash Park means Wash Perk. I indulged in coffee and a little dark chocolate because in my head those two things tell me "good job Carrie for finishing your run when you wanted to quit 203980394 times".

I got home and couldn't sit inside with the guilt of the sunshine beating on my skin. Ok, ok, I suppose I'll go bask in the sun for a while...

How am I going to wrap up this post you ask? By showing you my fab multitasking skills of course!

That's right. I can blog AND ice my knee at the same time!

Leave a comment and let me know how your Sunday was!

the wheels on the...

I'm doing a mixture of things right now. Writing and people watching and falling every bit in love with my Caribou coffee because you would too if you got 5 hours of sleep. It's noisy, but the kind of noisy where you can't pick out a certain word or sentence, more of a monotoned, humming noise. I see people smiling and laughing while others are hugging and crying. Kids are spilling goldfish on the floor and parents are losing their shit temper. A couple just passed me wearing cowboy hats and leather vests while a girl about my age must have lost the memo about pairing Ugg boots and a jean skirt together.

The airport is a marvelous place if you think about it. People from all over, gathering in one spot only in a set up to go somewhere else. Where are they going? Who are they going to see? Is it for work or pleasure? Can I pick who I sit next to because if so I have dibs on the whole lacrosse team sitting 100 ft. away from me.

This is the part where I tell you that we are like wheels. Yes, those round things that make a continuous circle yet never really know their final destination because, well, they are wheels. And this is the part where I build a bridge for my theory so you don't think I've completely lost it (although the caffeine could kick in any time now!)

We continue through life, most of us living a routine where we wake up, do our thing, go to bed, and do it all over the next day. We have goals and visions and aspirations and we tell ourselves that when we reach all those things, we've made it. Our final destination is our motivation and every day we make a continuous effort to get there.

But what if this is our final destination? What if we've already made it but we are too busy telling ourselves that this can't be it and that we want better? It's a tough cookie to crumble if you ask me. We push ourselves in a circle: make a mistake, learn from it, do better. Set a goal, reach it, set another goal. Fall in love, get hurt, find a more deserving love. Move away, get comfortable and bored, move somewhere else.

We are like the wheels on the bottom of the suitcases that are rolling past me. We are moving, having no control of where we are going or where our final destination may be. The wheels on those suitcases are being moved by a person with higher power and like them, so are we.

office space

Who: 

Me. And strangers. But the kind of strangers that feel like friends and family without exchanging a single word.

What:

I come here to write. The atmosphere is loud and busy yet when I get in my zone, bitches better watch out. I type and type and type. Thoughts start dancing around in my head and my fingers can't keep up. I sip my coffee, crack my knuckles, and go at it again. Breaks include checking my phone (because even though it didn't vibrate, we are all guilty to hopelessly thinking we might have missed it go off), going to the bathroom (coffee, remember?), and simply taking in the conversations around me (without looking like a total ease dropper). 

Where:

Wash Perk.  I survey the room and know no one yet I feel right at home. I'm sitting on a couch in the corner with a cute boy studying for an upcoming Stats test sitting next to me, the pregnant friends are exchanging their nerves and fears about their upcoming deliveries, all while splitting a Blueberry Scone, and two older men are talking about plumbing and drywall. Oh, apparently Star Wars just slipped in to the conversation, too. 

When:

Looking for me on Saturday mornings? I'll be on the corner of Ohio and Emerson. Ok, not on the corner but by the corner. This ain't no 2013 version of Pretty Woman, people! 

How:

How do I afford this? I don't. For my birthday, my mom gave me a Gift Card for a generous amount to Wash Perk. It's tied with the Princess Di Beanie Baby for  "best present ever".

what's next then?

Being settled means being content. It means that the stars have aligned, the dots have been connected, and you have finally married Justin Timberlake and he did in fact bring sexy back. I ask you this: what's next then?

When I first moved to Denver this is how I felt. Sure, it took a couple weeks to get situated, but I found myself getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. Friends were made, a job was in place, and overall, I thought that all my puzzle pieces had been matched and the picture they created was perfect. But then life happened. God unsettled my heart and made me realize a few things. It took me a while to appreciate this unsteadiness and to be honest I am still struggling with it.

The past week, my mind has been consumed with the following thoughts: What am I doing here? What is my purpose? Should I move back to MN? How do I know if I'm doing the right thing? Why does it hurt? I know what I want to do so why can't I do it? Why did I call my mom when I had a flat tire knowing entirely that she could do nothing about it being hundreds of miles away?

Yeah, that last question happened. This is the first time in my life I have had to be 100% independent. On my own, learning how to function in the real world without my mom and dad holding my hand every step of the way. I've had to find alternative ways of getting over homesickness. No more curing it by merely driving down the road and playing with my nieces and nephews; Without walking next door to my friends house with a bottle of wine under my arm; Without getting in my car and driving to the lake.

Instead of questioning every small detail, over thinking every move and word and action, I'm moving forward. Actively waiting if you will. So, I ask myself this: what's next then? 

What do you do when your life gets unsettled? Leave a comment 

what it means

Love has multiple personalities. It's a bi-polar kind of emotion that never means only one thing. When we think of love we think of hearts and happiness and a hot man being perfect and ideal in every way, every day (don't act like you don't agree with me). 

But love can suck. Just - plain - suck. It can hurt, it can make you cry, and it can make you stain your pillows with mascara. Yet it always prevails. Always. When one thing let's you down, there is always something, someone on the other side to show you a new and greater kind of a affection.

We all express love in various ways. I have friends who express it through gifts while others show their love through hilarious and inappropriate text messages. While my brothers and I never really say "I love you", they show it in-between the punches to the arm and the name calling. My mom always signs her e-mails, letters, and cards with "Love you forever" and my dad ends our phone convos with "love ya Care". 

As I look on Facebook and see the screen covered with things that make me want to punch a wall, I know that my day will come when I get breakfast in bed, last minute roses from the grocery store, and chocolate hearts in a cardboard box from Walgreens. But for today, I choose to celebrate the kinds of love that are in my life. 

Monday night I had an early birthday dinner with my friends and I was so happy that my mom could join us. We shared stories, sipped our Sangrias, and I opened and read cards and presents that left me thinking: How did I get so lucky? The love that is friendships in my life that have taught me so much. That it's ok to show love in ways that I am comfortable with. I may not be able to grace my friends with gifts but I can grace them with laughs and coffee dates and aforementioned inappropriate text messages. 

I may not have a Valentine but I do have a cup of hot coffee, a roof over my head, and hair that is working in my favor so that's pretty much the same thing, right?