why my summer (non)vacation was subversively scandalous but also somehow successful

With the exception of last Sunday’s wedding recap, I have been away from this site and the writing in general for more than six months. My decision to take an extended hiatus from the blogging had much to do with the seemingly incessant bitching of which said blogging had become almost exlusively composed. Having grown tired of recounting one depressing detail after another and finding myself somehow unable to avoid topics of such a dismal nature, I opted to cease posting altogether until life started looking up a little bit. Or at least until I could concentrate on something other than that about which I was sometimes inexplicably depressed.

Thankfully, my depressive state has all but disappeared, mostly in conjunction with a few major changes I have made in the months since my last bout of somewhat consistent posting. Most notably, I quit my job in coffee management to serve as a lowly (but much less stressed) barista, took a second job waiting tables two nights a week at a small, neighborhood alehouse, and began taking prerequisites for graduate school in Chinese Medicine with the hope of beginning next fall if accepted into the program. Needless to say, my life looks almost nothing like it did last March when the decision to cease posting was made. And I finally feel like I’m heading in a direction that promises to be exciting and fulfilling and challenging in all the right ways.

I’ll admit that I’m nervous about applying to graduate school, that I’m still adjusting to life as a (very part-time, yes, but still legitimate) student after more than three years away, and that some days I question my decision to pursue this path at all. But more often than not, I feel a sense of peace about my plans and find school secretly thrilling for the way it allows me to nerd out more frequently than I otherwise might. Even if it is just general biology. Even if I am the oldest student in a class full of eighteen and nineteen year-old kids. And even if I have studied most of this material before. Sometimes, it’s just nice to feel smart.

My two greatest fears—behind failure—are change and commitment. Quitting my job and going back to school has forced me to face both of those fears simultaneously, with promise of even more changes and a commitment of at least four years in the event that I am accepted to the Chinese Medicine master’s program. To help me get over my apprehension, I’ve been actively avoiding commitment in other areas of my life—particularly with regard to dating and men. More specifically, I’ve been dating more this summer than I did in the three previous years combined. And it’s been awesome. (Like dating the soccer team awesome.*)

And internationally flavored.

Seriously, though, I’ve been dating men from around the globe, making up for my failure to travel at all this year as planned. Five countries, four continents—not bad for a summer’s work. And while I realize my love life may not be particularly healthy in its noncommittal, nonexclusive, non-monogamous nature, I’m choosing to focus my attention and my energy on locking down my professional and intellectual future before even attempting to address my distant, sadly emotionally-stunted approach to potentially romantic relationships.

The bottom line is I’m mostly happy. And usually satisfied. I’ve come a long way in six short months, and I’m proud of that progress. An ill-advised kiss or accidental sleepover is not enough to deny me that pleasure. For the first time in a long time, I’m sincerely looking forward to the future.

*I have honestly done that this summer. As in, dated four men from the same soccer team within a two month period. Sort of sketchy but mostly just amazing.

wherein i stave off the rain by ironing for the first time in two years

Friday, I had the pleasure of attending the much-anticipated, often-postponed, but finally and flawlessly executed wedding of my beloved Frans and her (now husband) Chris. As I stood by her side on beautiful Cannon Beach, I marveled over the surprisingly cooperative and sun-shining weather, as well as the honor I felt in being the only non-related—or ceremony-performing person (see: Pastor)—present for the vow-taking that day. And I suddenly felt somehow undeserving, but equally as excited to be standing in that spot and not about to expose myself or suggest that perhaps my Frans had made a mistake in asking me to attend. Instead, I selfishly drank in the day and the experience of seeing my friend so unabashedly happy and in love.

I am someone whose cynicism about love follows her around on a daily basis, preventing her from entering into any potential relationship situations, or even considering the possibility that she might one day find herself in love with a man or at all loved in return. At times, it has been difficult to believe in the existence of romantic love in any context, and I’ve often laughed to myself over the unbelievable self-deception it must take for couples to convince themselves they’re truly in love. (Yes, I am just barely 25 and am already pathetically embittered.) But, after Friday’s beach-laden nuptials, it’s impossible not to believe in the sincerity and validity of love in this life. Perhaps not for everyone (see: me), but most definitely for Kerri and Chris. When the tears fell from Chris’ eyes the moment he laid eyes on his bride, I knew there was something to be said for this whole love thing I’ve been hearing about. And I’m so happy for my Frans that she’s been lucky enough to find it. And strong enough to make it work.

With the exception of the ceremony (and the beer-battered avocado slices), my favorite moments of the day involved finally having the opportunity to spend some quality time with my friend’s amazing and accepting and hilarious family, who made me feel entirely welcome and even essential to the occasion at hand. In spite of being the only outsider around and the seventh (and possibly superfluous) wheel to an already well-functioning family, I was treated as though my presence was somehow necessary to keep things running smoothly. And as a result of this commitment made between Kerri and Chris, I feel like my family just got a little bit bigger—a phenomenon for which I am inexplicably grateful.

I have always feared intimacy for the way it leaves us exposed, our flaws so shamelessly displayed, vulnerable to criticism and disgust. And I have avoided becoming that intimate, opening myself up to the possibility of rejection should my shortcomings be revealed. But I admire so much the honesty and exposure and trust present in the relationship Kerri and Chris share, the way every potential fault is seen and then embraced, the way they love one another for the whole of who they are. The way not worrying about being good enough for each other leaves room to work on being better together.

So, thank you, Frans, for allowing me to be a part of such an important day, for restoring in me a little bit of faith, and for encouraging me to revisit this site after so many months of not. I love you and your Chris so much, and am literally peeing my pants from the excitement of knowing that in five short weeks, you’ll be living within spitting (or a least driving) distance of yours truly. I can’t wait.