In response to my last blog post, my good friend Codie gave me some of the best words of wisdom. He wrote:

We make our choices based on what we know. One of the funny things about life is how confident we can be in our beliefs, interests and dreams without any real, definitive way to know if they are our “best” options. I’m not convinced we have an assigned plan and I certainly do not believe that we should only have or choose one purpose. In the end, we make our choices in life and make the best of it—remember it’s about the journey and not the destination.

What a smart and handsome fellow. I cannot think of more true words on the subject. However, how caught up do we get in every decision we make?

I’m kind of a stewer. I think about something and then sit on it, think and then sleep on it, talk it over with friends, write a pros and cons list, do some research, wait for the absolutely last moment and then go with my gut. I can be ordering food at a restaurant or deciding to buy a house—all the same process.

Codie is so right, though. I can tell you exactly what I believe, what my interests and aspirations are, but was my decision on where to go to college the “best” one? I don’t know. I’ll never know, I suppose. But I can say, I will own each decision I’ve made. Own them and love them. Because they are mine. And I’m in the drivers seat for my journey.

Right after every important decision I’ve made, I’ve had a big, oh-God-what-did-I-get-myself-into moment. I applied to exactly one scholarship in high school—not something I’d recommend. But I got it. It was basically a full ride to anywhere in the state of Nebraska. I hadn’t looked a single school in my home state. But taking the scholarship and choosing to stay in Nebraska helped me study abroad twice. To have 2 majors. To meet two of the greatest people I get to call my friends. Going to UNO lead to the best college job. This job was a chance to work in a field that I now call my profession and led me to my Omaha family.

My decision to take that scholarship helped me save enough money to go to grad school—another decision where I had an oh-crap moment as I walked up to my college in Los Angeles. But there I met more people I love and my writing has grown from a childhood hobby to my dream career.

While in grad school, I accepted an extra job after much stress and debate with my friend and boss and my mom about whether it was something I wanted to do. This brought me to more friends—a group of people I still talk to almost daily even though I haven’t worked there for almost a year. People I think I’ll talk to no matter where I go in life.

And I think that’s really what life’s all about. We go all these places and meet people and they’re the best part of the journey. The things you see, the conversations you have, the quality of the time you spend.

And I’m not saying that everyone you meet and everywhere you go will be rainbows and unicorns. You’ll meet some people that will impact you for a day or join you on your journey for a year. But that doesn’t mean they’re there to stay. And that’s OK. Sometimes it’s hard to let people walk out of our lives or to walk away from others, but we can’t all be on the same path. That’s no to say that these people mean less to us that those who stay with us for a lifetime. These people and places we walk away from can sometimes teach us the most about ourselves. We think nothing of using a car until it is no longer of use to us, but we tend to hold on longer to other big decisions than letting them go and moving on to the next part of our journeys—so says the girl who almost has a panic attack when the waiter asks what she wants and she can’t decide between the fajita salad and the fajita burrito.

I don’t know where any of us are going. I, like Codie, don’t necessarily believe we have a pre-determined destination, but I love the ride so far, wherever it is I am headed. Like I said though, I am in the driver’s seat on my own journey. I hope you can embrace your life as well and own that ride you’re on, making it the best. Because we only get one, right? Might as well make it yours. 

     It's a new year and I'm 26 and I'm realizing that I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Isn't it weird how when you're a kid all anyone ever asks you is what you want to be when you grow up?
     From the first thought that I remember, I wanted to be a vet. It was my biggest dream. I thought I'd live on a huge farm and all of the animals in the world who didn't have a home would come live with me. (My mother had this same dream about an orphanage for children when she was young).

Me, age 4 in preschool

I read everything I could about animals and vets and had exactly 8 billion stuffed animals. Then our cat died at the vet and I realized being a vet could be heartbreaking.
     After nixing vet from my future, I hung out in a limbo for a while where I truly believed if I wished it hard enough, I could become a Bengal Tiger. Don't laugh. We all have dreams.  And yes, that's a Bengal Tiger, not Siberian, not Indochinese, not Malayan, not South China. Bengal. Soon after this, I thought that I wished hard enough I would get my owl to enter the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Bengal Tiger or a witch, I would have been happy with either.

                                                   

       When I was in sixth grade and it was clear my owl was not a year late, nor was I sprouting whiskers and stripes, I got on a crime novel kick and was convinced I wanted to be a lawyer. All the research and reading and debating and solving the puzzles, oh! I'd just be great at it. All murderers behind bars. I started researching law schools and settled on Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia--I'd go after playing women's basketball during undergrad, of course.

       Somewhere along the lines of my parents' divorce I realized that most lawyers do not get to work exciting murder cases on a daily basis. And that sometimes you have to represent someone you don't like to make the big bucks. Cross lawyer off the list. 

     So I'm fifteen, still hooked on Harry Potter, however certain that I will not become a Bengal Tiger or a lawyer, and I start to really think about the things I like to do. I like to read and I like sports. I start working at the YMCA--sports referee and lifeguard (AKA glorified babysitter, but with good breaks for reading and homework). My college basketball dreams are crushed by my orthodontist who tells me I will only be 5'8". A minute bush in my family of trees.  However, my teeth are flawless. 

     I take the greatest (and toughest) class of my high school career, AP Literature and Composition, and know that books are for me. What could be better than getting paid to read, right? So I went to college and majored in Spanish and Creative Writing--but I'm not a writer, I'd tell my classmates, I want to be an editor. 

     I taught fitness classes and wrote for a few local magazines. I loved college. I loved my job. Then I had my first desk job writing and editing promotional material and grants and it was the worst thing of my life. I hated going to sit in the same spot every day. It was 15 hours a week and I couldn't wait for the semester to be over so I could be done with it. I graduated. What to do next? I thought I'd be moving to New York to become a big name fiction editor. What was I going to do with my life if I couldn't stand the thought of sitting at a desk? I took a year. Realized I could, actually, write things that people were interested in. 

     In the last month of 2013 I bought a house, then in April 2014 I became full time at my gym. Then in June 2014 I graduated with my Masters of Fine Arts degree from one of the top 5 low residency schools in the nation. In October 2014 I taught my first online creative writing class. All things that seem so grown up, but yet, is this what I want to do when I grow up? Do I want to teach some day? Do I ever want to give up the varying routine of personal training and getting paid to work out?  Does all this crap really even matter? I mean, I have great friends, the best family, I can run, I love my job and I have time to write. But is this what I am when I'm grown up?

     It's a weird feeling not having the answer to that. When I was little I used to say with so much conviction that I wanted to be a vet. Now, as a grown up, I only know these things:

1. I want to be the best dog mom ever. 

2. I want to write. 

3. I want to run.

4. I want to be the best version of myself every day, but every day, I want to be myself. 

    I guess that will have to do it for now. Unless I finally get my invitation to Hogwarts. 

        I'm re-reading the Hunger Games in preparation for the new movie coming out soon. My boyfriend and I decided that we've been very caught up in running from place to place and people to people and we need to start taking some time to just hang together. Like together without the dog too. We love Yadi, but homeboy thinks his nose should be between our noses at all times. 

        We decided that each of us would create a date once a month. John knew just the perfect date to win me over by suggesting we read a similar book this month. Katniss for life. 

        Getting into the novel from the beginning again is so amazing. I've only been reading when on workout equipment, otherwise I'd have read the book in one sitting. I. Love. This. Book. Holy cow. 

        I'm not an expert on teen fantasy/distopian novels by any means, but I'm familiar with a few series. When I finished reading Harry Potter, which was heartbreaking, all the rage was over Twilight. I try to always, always be honest. Twilight is one of the worst things to happen to teenagers. Period. Actually, I think I've blogged about this before so I won't even go there. Then came the The Hunger Games. Hallelujah. A real girl heroine (I'd also argue that Hermoine is a rock solid role model). But then we get someone like Tris from Divergent. Another blah blah boy obsessed ninny. 

        Back to Katniss. The Girl on Fire. Back to something I love. Katniss is a girl I want to be like. Katniss is a girl who takes action and charge and stands for something even if she's scared. Katniss is the girl I hope all girls look up to. One could argue that Katniss is not a true heroine. That she does not set out looking to change her world but is rather thrown into being the leader of a revolution. It is true that she is unsure she even wants to lead this revolution. However, she rises to the occasion. She doesn't let herself become a victim (ahem, Bella). She put her family and her own survival first when she hunted to keep her family alive, when she volunteered for Prim.

        When I look at the women who parade in front of us as celebrities, I yearn for a Katniss. Instead we have Kim Kardashian posing naked, or Miley Cyrus doing drugs, or even Taylor Swift singing about adding to her list of boyfriends. Don't get me wrong, I love T Swift. And I admire her ability to not yet have any major discrepancies to her image, however, she's 25 years old. Isn't it time to, like, take some action and be somebody rather than an image?

        Katniss is moody and confused and scared and falls in love. She's also brave and smart. She's resourceful and can handle herself on her own, but she admits that she can't do it alone. Human beings need each other and one of the hardest things in the world can be to accept that. 

        And Katniss chooses Peeta. The boy with the bread. The nice boy. We never see that, do we? In all the silly rom coms we see girls fall again and again for the bad boy. Taylor Swift might not have anything more to sing about if she actually went for a guy who's not a player, but maybe true love isn't her goal in life. 

        Peeta isn't a weenie or a loser even if he is the nice guy. He's strong. He's smart--he's the one who could execute the game far better than Katniss who's hot headedness would've blown their strategy. 

       When the second movie came out, my mom, aunt and two cousins and I went to the movie. We got into a debate on who wanted Gayle and Katniss and who wanted Peeta and Katniss. Both my cousins Sydney and Darby and I were all about Peeta. My mom and aunt were appalled. 

       I wonder what this says about us. Loving Peeta. Maybe being younger and freshly dating, we are over the image of the hot bad boy and just want someone to tell the world he loves he loved us from the first time he saw us. The boy with the bread who just wants to maintain his humanity and protect the girl he loves rather than running off into the woods and pretending he can turn his back on the hardship at home. Gayle's a good guy too. I see this. He becomes a huge player in the revolution. I get it. But Peeta is a rock. He's dependable and there and funny and sweet. He sees in Katniss what the reader sees but she doesn't. He sees her as strong and independent but he compliments it by being funny and personable when she is not. He eases her tension. He completes her just by being who he is rather than being the same as her, like Gayle, or trying to conform to who she is (like Bella to Edward, Tobias and Tris). 

        Peeta also, in my opinion, has the best lines in the first book. He tells Katniss:

         “I don’t know how to say it exactly. Only…I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?” he asks. I shake my head. How could he die as anyone but himself? “I don’t want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I’m not.”

I bite my lip, feeling inferior. While I’ve been ruminating on the availability of trees, Peeta has been struggling with how to maintain his identity. His purity of self. “Do you mean you won’t kill anyone?” I ask.

        “No, when the time comes, I’m sure I’ll kill just like everybody else. I can’t go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games,” says Peeta. (p 141)

        And he is. All the way through. And Katniss is herself too. They both put on an act to stay alive, but protecting their families and each other is essentially at the heart of all of their actions. Katniss doesn't change for Peeta or Gayle or anyone (ahem, Bella and Tris). She succeeds because of who she is and who she grows to be. She stands for something. In later books the rebels try to make her a rallying image for their cause but she only goes so far to be who they want her to be before speaking up and creating an image of her own. The image that she was all along. The Girl on Fire. Do you. Always be you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. But do it with fire. 

My dog is the biggest dork of all time. But he doesn't care. And he's so freaking adorable and I love his so much the nerdiness is just the greatest thing ever. Seriously, if he were a person, he'd dress like Steve Urkel and act like me.

photo creds to: http://www.octavarius.com/blog/is-steve-urkel-greatest-inventor-of-our-time/

I firmly believe that Yadi very much loves me as well. He has a little separation anxiety. A smidge. OK, when I pee he cries outside the door. 

This is my life

On Wednesdays we go to the dog park and it's the time of Yadi's life (almost as good as that time when we ran in the rain and then, not only did he get to run, but he also got a towel rub down and we hung out together on the couch reading all night long). He likes to run around with the other dogs. However sometimes one of the owners will throw a stick or a dog toy or a ball and all the dogs will run after it. Yadi runs after the dogs, notices a leaf and then runs in the opposite direction, stops and remembers the dogs and prances after them, smiling. Goon. 

I like to take my writing to the dog park and, thus, take a book bag. I was sitting with my bag next to me and a dog came up and peed on it. As soon as the dog walked up to me, Yadi was nosing around--hey, whatcha doing with my mom? After the dog peed on our stuff, Yadi tried to pee on it too, to reclaim it as ours. How chivalric.

I was talking to my friend and fellow yoga instructor the other day and we discussed a highly troubling topic: public toots. It's particularly common in yoga because you are A. relaxed, B. focused on other things, C. twisting and getting those juices flowing, and/or C. working different muscles that can cause a little blippy to get out. Farts are embarrassing hands down, but in a quiet yoga room they practically echo off the walls. You feel like you've not only made a fool of yourself but that you've also disturbed everyone else's zen they have going on with your not-so-zen rip. You then proceed to drag your heel across your mat or move your legs around to try to recreate a fart noise--oh, yeah! That could have been it! It was my hand on the floor or my legs rubbing together, not my buttcheeks!--but you still know, you sounded the backdoor trumpet. I'm here to say it's OK. That pants puffer is not the end of the world. Laugh it off or scootchie around trying to make other noises that could cover your foofer--whatever you've got to do. It's all good.

I recently did one of the coolest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Cooler than living in Peru, cooler than getting my masters, almost as cool as getting my dog. I ran and finished a 50 mile race in Steamboat Springs Colorado. My friends Molly and Cade have done this race the last 4 years and they told me it is the greatest day of the year, yes, they assured me, even better than Thanksgiving. And they did not disappoint. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I’ve always loved racing, but in other races, everyone is concerned with their own things—watching their times and listening to their music, however, I didn’t listen to my music for 15 hours. I just hung out with the other runners. There were checkpoints about every 6 miles, so I’ll break down the race by section.

Start to Mt. Werner    So the first 6.4 miles is all uphill. You start at the base of the ski mountain and climb roughly 4,000 feet. This section took me about 1:50 which I was pleased with. I hiked with some men from Lincoln and then with a woman from CO. I was already dreading coming down this section, however. It wasn't too steep, it was just constant uphill switch backs. No flats. Period. 

Mt. Werner to Long Lake     This section is the longest section of the course. Single track through really cool forest area. This section is kind of rolling but mostly downhill. I ran almost all of this but had to stop for twigs or rocks in my shoes a couple of times. It was very pleasant. Ran with the Lincoln guys again for a while and a very cute old man. However, I knew this section would be tough going back because it was so long (6.8 miles). My body felt good, but my left arch was giving me trouble.

Long Lake to Base Camp     I feel that I spent wayyyy too long at the aid stations, especially on the way out--think, I had them refill my camelback, tailwind bottle, ate, and grabbed nutrition for the road. Even if you only take 5 minutes at each aid station, that's 40 minutes added to your time. Not smart. Any way, I met Cade at this aid station and he and I ran together until we caught up to Molly. This section was nice. Single track through meadows, some river and stream crossings that were a little muddy and could have been very wet if you fell. Since we caught up to Molly (she took an hour early start), we went at her pace--no use killing ourselves on the way out and it was more fun together. There were some very steep, muddy climbs I was worried about for the way back, but this part was fun because we were together. At Base Camp we could access our drop bags and Molly had a ball for me to roll out my left arch with and it was much better. I felt good to go.

Base Camp to Dumont      This section was tough for me. I ran most of it but was dealing with GI issues. I couldn't eat or drink anything. I pooed in the woods but it didn't help until much later. 

Dumont to Rabbit Ears to Dumont      By this time we are so high in elevation that we are above the tree line. This section was mostly desserty. It was hot. You had to trek up the Rabbit Ears (a rock formation). So steep. So, so steep. You had to touch the stupid rock. I fell after touching Rabbit Ears and slid down on my butt for a ways. There was a man who collapsed when I was coming down and they had to call an ambulance. I kicked a rock up and it bounced off one ankle scratching it, but, like, rolled across my left arch and that was horridly painful. Like so painful I almost puked. I didn't see Molly at all as I was coming back so I knew she probably had to drop. When I got back to Dumont she was there and she helped make me drink a sprite to get calories in and packed me some pretzels--the only thing I thought my body might handle. 

Dumont to Base Camp   I ran most of this, but I was alone. It was not too bad. I was feeling better.

Base Camp to Long Lake     I made a huge, huge mistake here. It was still warm out so I didn't get my jacket from my drop bag. Terrible mistake. I ran most of this ways with a guy who kept telling me I was crazy for this being my first 50 because it's the hardest he's done. At least I wasn't alone though. This section seemed very long compared to the first time I did it, probably because the first time I was with Molly and Cade. I ran most of this, hiking the uphills. I could finally eat more than pretzels when I got to Long Lake.

Long Lake to Mt. Werner     This is where things got bad. I tried to run the downhills and the flats but the back of my knees were sore making the downhills awful. This area is much more wooded and it was getting cool. My mom planned to meet me at the Mt. Werner check in and hike down the mountain with me so I just kept telling myself that I would see her soon and it would all be OK. I was alone this whole section. We had to weave from the east side of the mountain to the west side so it was starting to get dark. I was scared. Sometimes I hoped that when I got to Mt. Werner they would tell me I missed the cut off and drive me home. 

Mt. Werner to finish     The only thing that got me to Mt. Werner was knowing that my mom would be there with a jacket and flashlight. I knew we'd make it down. Then I got there and she wasn't there. I started to hyperventilate, then pulled it in and called her. She'd sent me a text that she was at the Mt. Werner check point, but when I called, she said that they wouldn't let them go all the way up to the check point so she was 2 miles down. I started to cry again and said I didn't think I could make it 2 miles. I was so cold. I hung up and realized I had no choice but to go down. She had my coat. The aid station people got me hot chocolate and I started moving. I started running down. It was 7:30. I knew I had to get to my mom before the sun went down. There were people behind me but I didn't know if they made it to the check point in time for cutoff. I saw 2 lights bobbing a switchback ahead of me so I ran to them. At first I thought I'd keep running but I was so happy to be with other people that I stopped and walked with them. I called my mom and told her I was coming and was in much better spirits. We met my mom and I got a jacket and a flashlight and told my mom I'd keep going with my buddies. We had fun talking running and dogs and Game of Thrones and decided to finish together no matter what. Because of my break down, my mom and Molly had been in constant contact. Molly hiked back up the mountain to meet me. She met us with at 2 miles to go and came back down with us. I was very happy, but so freaking incredibly tired of going downhill. It was sucky. But I wasn't alone. We jogged the last 100 yards and walked up the 5 steps to the finish line together as a team. Finishing like that was incredibly special. 

I GOT A DOG!!!! Hooray! My love! My life! How stupendous. He's pretty sweet and making strides every day. I rescued him from a shelter on Friday, and he's learning to do all kinds of things--run on a leash, act like a puppy, hang at the bar, go downstairs, ride on an elevator. He did not have to learn how to cheer for the Huskers. Buddy already looks good in red. 

I love naming people, animals, characters. There are so many important things to go into thought with a name. The meaning of the name, who the namesake is, if you'll go with a theme for this pet and future ones, etc. After many great names I put on the table (Brees for Drew, Prince for Amukamara, Gio for Gonzalez, Jet, Grif for Blake Griffin), the one name John came out with won out. Welcome to the family, Yadi. 

We love America, the Huskers,
and each other

Yadi is a Black Nose Cur--a dog I had
never heard of but he's pretty great!

Our first family photo!

I'll hang out between you and the door
so you don't leave me again.