My titles don't related to what I have to say.

All humans make mistakes.
But the thing is, no matter how bad they seem, we can almost always overcome them.
I was thinking this today in the shower. No, I don't know why.
It's not the mistake ITSELF that has the power to destroy you--it's YOU. It's the inability to confront it, own it, and accept it as something you did. Reconcile it with who you are. Take it in and make it something that makes you stronger. And let it go. Move on.

I think I have a problem with that last part. Letting go. Moving on. I let my mistakes haunt me. It's hard for me not to constantly let it wash over me, pushing me down and down. To not get feeling hopeless and stuck and like nothing will ever be normal again. I've learned lately that if it's something I chose to do, I have to be ok with it. And I have to be ok with myself for making that choice, even if I've come to see it was the wrong one. I still fall into the trap sometimes, though...of blamign myself. And that's what does a hell of a lot more damage.
But I think some people must have a problem with the confronting, owning part too. Because if you just shove your mistakes under the rug, minimize them, or dissociate yourself from them, you can't really ever move on either...and worse, you're not getting the STRENGTH that comes with overcoming them. In fact, I think you're weaker for it.

I'm not saying you should just do whatever you want--hurt people, act immorally, whatever--and then just FORGIVE yourself for it without feeling remorse. Maybe it's coming off like that. I just mean...you can't let yourself slip into the endless cycle of blaming yourself and hating yourself when you end up somewhere you never thought you'd be.

I just think it's strange because it's so opposite of how we (or at least I..) think of mistakes in general. That what you do dictates where you end up. That's not true. It's what you DO with what you do...with the choices you make
The bottom line is this:
It's not your actions or your past or the choices you make that bring you down and do the damage, it's your ability to forgive yourself.
And if you can't find that ability...well, then I guess you've made the only real mistake you can make.

So much better...?

It's May.
This Friday, one year ago, I graduated.
A year ago I was finishing finals, passing out the senior issue, reveling in mini-o.
Preparing for summer, wondering about fall, and pretending June 2 did not exist.


The background of my computer is this picture that was take after graduation rehearsal.


Every time I open my laptop, it stares back at me.



And it reminds me just how far I've come in the past year. I think I've really grown up. And being away probably does that to you...having to take responsibility for everything. (Even if I'm not FULLY there, making money, worrying about rent, and even if there's a snadwhich place that takes meal points so I won't STARVE etc.) If I don't DO it, it doesn't happen.

I've opened myself up a lot. I think I'm more easy going.

Mostly...I think it's that I feel more like an adult. And the scary thing is, the reason is because I'm half way there. I've got one foot in the door.

I've lived with another person for a school year in one room. Spent, what, 30% of my time at a desk that so many people have used before me and so me people will use after me (which is weird to me, because it felt so intimately MINE. And in a few months it will be so throughly someone else's) And I'll probably never see her or that room again. Or the stairwell I spent much of November and December crying in on the phone to Erin, working through things. I won't sit there again.



I feel a billion years away from what I was.

I don't know if I even feel like the same person. And I don't think that's a bad thing. I've kept the parts I like, but I've improved and changed some of the others. And isn't that what life's about? A continual re-drafting of ourselves.

But...I like who I've become.

It's weird to be back in the same place. But sometimes that's the only way to compare where you were then with where you are now and to see how far you've come.

Whoa, two posts right away. Don't get used to this.

Isn't it ironic?

This isn't going to be bold and deep, but it is what it is. Sometimes life isn't bold and deep.

Here's what life is, and follow me here, this metaphor is going to be weak:

Life is having a phone. One you like, with which you are perfectly happy. All contacts in place. That goes sailing into a mug of hot chocolate.
So you go back to an old phone. That you liked. And you adjust. Get new contacts, get things in place. But just as you are, it falls of a shelf.
Stranded.
So you get a new one. And learn how to work its stupid backwards buttons, and get the contacts sorted out. And just as you're getting comfortable, right after a BIG turning point in your life...you turn it off. And, at the most critical moment, it won't turn back on again. Or really...it WILL turn back on again, but all it will do is play the opening music in a loop.

(I didn't even THROW it this time. It's all by itself.)

But here's life, right here: You've end up back with the original phone. In which you just deleted all the contacts and all the memories. 4. days. before.
With a voicemail.
And 5 text messages with no way to fix what they've thought.

And life is:

Planning a trip to Normal, Illinois. Only to have a broken down car and spend 7 hours in a village tow shop with a cat. Named Lucky.

Full circle, eh?

This isn't a pity party. I just can't shake the feeling that these things mean something more than just a cat and a phone. And I'm treading water trying to figure out some kind of deep meaning or lesson or reason WHY life works this--because they're just too perfectly disasterous to be anything but significant, right?
Maybe I can't know...maybe we can't know? Maybe it'll reveal itself somewhere down the road and all I can do is keep living until I feel that final click when everything snaps into place and it all makes sense and I realize it's all for a reason. I can't know.

I'm going under.
Drowning in Irony.