Life After...

Something I've never understood (and I know I've gone on a long rant about this before) is how after high school and after college everyone just assumes there's one path... the one path is "Follow Your Dreams.... as long as that dream is sensible and comes with a 401K".

I can confidently say that working for GS is not my dream. My dream is to work in a library, get my Masters in Library Sciences (MLIS), be married to my best friend and have a happy and loving life with him, and eventually have kids... but only 2 because I do not want to be outnumbered by tiny humans.


But let's be honest for a second.... right now, my dream is to be able to afford my rent, pay my student loans each month, and successfully keep cat litter out of my living room (bonus points if it stays ONLY in the cat box).

My dream is malleable, and that's okay.

I have friends who are following their dreams, doing insanely neat research in other states, joining the military, being missionaries, working in a field they actually have a degree in, starting their families, and doing what they have always set out to do... and I think that's awesome. I think it's stellar that their lives are doing exactly what they wanted them to do.

But, I have to remind myself every time my conversations with them end... I'm happy. For the first time in a solid ten years, I am actually happy. I wake up in the morning, and I love my apartment. My fingers are chewed on by a little monster kitten, and I love it. I pour myself a cup of coffee, and I get to look at the beautiful flowers on my kitchen table. I get dressed and put my badge on, and I drive a stupidly long time to get to work, but my drive is beautiful for the first twenty minutes and I have time to myself to remember that God is truly awesome, and he made the beautiful fields I drive through on my way to Rosemount. And then, I grumble because I get stuck behind a tractor, and I have to remember that the same awesome God made tractors, so I have to slow down to 30 mph and enjoy the beautiful fields just a little bit longer.

Then, I get to Rosemount, and I hit a train, because I ran five minutes later than normal, and I stare at it counting the carts like I have since I learned how to count. I wonder where the train is going, and how long it is going to take before the light changes. But then, I'm on my way again, and I drive through this growing town that I grew up in, and I am amazed. I'm amazed at how quickly the Culvers is coming along, and I'm amazed and thankful that Morning Glory's is still open, because as much as I love Starbucks, Ali makes the best coffee, and there's nothing better than walking in, having the little bells ring, and within seconds without two words he's making your drink, because he remembers that you've been drinking the same thing for the past 6 years.

Then, I keep driving down Highway 3, because even though it's probably faster going a thousand other ways, the views as I drive down McAndrews are nostalgic and remind me of driving down the road in my little black Acura blasting Taylor Swift's first and second CDs with my best friend from the very first day I got my own car all the way until our second year of college, because after those first two years of school, nothing was quite the same.

By the time I get to work and finish watering the plants in my cube, I have fifteen minutes to relax before my day officially starts. And then, I work. I work 8:30 - 5pm, like a "big kid". I work in an office, and I have a cube, and as much as it isn't the job I've always dreamed of, I kind of love it. I love the Culture and the crazy stories I get to hear, and I love the partners I get to work with, and I love that every day I get to learn something new. It's not my "dream job" but it's pretty great. I have a great boss, and I like my coworkers (a little more each day), and at 5pm I start the hour long commute home. 90% of the time, I hate my commute, but by the time I get to County Rd 50, I start to love it again because I drive past farms, and fields, and an Alpaca farm (which fascinates me).

I drive past the County Fair Grounds, and I fall in love with my neighborhood all over again, and then I walk into my tiny apartment and am greeted by my little monster and big poof ball, and I'm in love with having a home that I can call mine. My lovely fiance comes home, and I am reminded how happy I am that I get to spend each evening with him, and it doesn't have to be eventful or crazy. We can sit in the living room and he can play SkyRim, and I can play Sims, and we can just download and chill after our days.

I love my home. I love my job (most days). I love going on dates to the library and checking out books. I love my kitten and cat. I love taking time and planning our wedding nice and slow, because we can enjoy each decision as we make it. I love it.

I may not be moving away to a new state and starting Grad School yet, and who knows exactly what my plans are.. but I am happy. Finally. I am finally happy.

That counts. That's been my dream longer than wanting to be a librarian or marry my best friend, or have an apartment, or be a writer, or anything. I have always dreamed of being happy. And by golly, I'm living it.

To The Future

January the 4th my life changed for the infinitely better; my best friend confessed that he had been in love with me for a very long time. At first, there was confusion, but then, there was nothing but absolute joy and peace in being able to share our mutual weirdness and love. The past ten months have been incredible. Every day full of laughter and joy, and importantly, full of the strongest partnership I have ever known. We didn't  have to struggle through the awkwardness of starting a new relationship with a stranger: he already knew my quirks, my dark side, and the faults that came with the package deal. And likewise, I already knew his (which by the way for those of you who know him.... they're minimal, if anything).

Lucas has saved me from a life of wandering and confusion. He is teaching me patience in all things. He picks up the pieces when I'm inexplicably falling apart, and above all: he loves me. If nothing else, I have learned that I am the luckiest girl in the world.

On February 14th, my sweet Lucas rolled a candy wrapper into a ring and asked me (joking for the most part) to be his wife; to have and to hold for better or worse. I fullheartedly said yes, knowing how silly it would be as we had barely just begun dating. From then until August, we more seriously discussed the idea of marriage and considered in honesty the wonderful dream to spend forever together.

Finally, come August, the month in which we had discussed making this dream a reality, and practical as usual,  he decided it would be better to wait until he had a clearer idea of when he would graduate. Practical, wise, and totally unfair. So I made a choice. I went to a jeweler, I picked a ring, and I hid the ring in my glove box for a week.

On August 28th, we drove to Lake Nebagamon, home of all my warm fuzzy memories. We arrived late, maybe around ten at night, and the house was sleeping peacefully. I dragged my sweet love down the old wooden steps and sat down on the dock, reciting in my head the speech I had created a thousand times:

It isn't fair that you men get to make the final call on something so incredibly big. We have gone back and forth 17 times over and every time you've asked me, I have agreed without hesitation. So gosh darnit, I am taking my turn, and I am asking you to....

And then out it blurted: " I HAVE A PRESENT FOR YOU" I immediately wanted to smack my forehead on the dock. The man on the moon was probably laughing hysterically. I shoved the box towards him and as he opened it I asked, "WILL YOU MARRY ME?" He  said yes, and I started babbling like a fool about feminism and how he had already asked 17 times, so I felt it was okay to take my turn and ask, and then under the fullest moon and all the stars, we were engaged.

August 28th officially ranks as the 2nd happiest day of 2015 (following January 4th), a day I am eternally grateful for.

National Kitty Day

Happy National Cat Day! I for one, am a huge fan of this holiday.. On this day, we celebrate our furry feline friends. With a cat like Devo I celebrate daily. She brings so much fun and joy into my life. Devo has so much personality, and so much spunk. I am truly grateful to have her in my life. While other cats are perfectly happy to be independent, Dwo thrives on social interaction. So here's to Cats! Here's to fluffy, fat, happy cats! Here's to Cats with long hair that ruins every pair of dress pants you own. Here's to cats with twitchy, stumpy tails. Here's to their purs and their little kneading paws an hour before your alarm. To their morning "Feed Me" squacks and their midnight meows. The world is a happier place because of Cats.

Real Talk

Lately, I have been struggling with my anxiety disorder. I don't know how to put it all into words, and I don't know how to ask for help. I usually don't even realize I have hit the point where I need help until  it's out of hand. So, I'm there. 

Suddenly I realize that I haven't been sleeping, and that I can't stop thinking about the ways my life could go up in flames, and I stop focusing on the good, and I focus on every possible bad situation. And... then I think about it and I realize I'm hiding away in my room away from the world when I have an entire day off to go do things, and instead I lock myself up and watch hours of netflix or dvr to avoid people, because it's too much. 

It's too much. 

I want to explode... but I don't know how. That's the crippling part for me. I don't know what to do when it's bad. I used to be able to talk about it, and if I couldn't talk about it I could write about it. But I don't want to put it into words anymore. It didn't fix anything, it just put it out there for the world to see, and I don't like how vulnerable it made me, and for what? To say I expressed how I felt?

Because that's all it was... I talked about my issues but I didn't solve anything. 

So.. how do I solve the problems that I'm no longer capable of putting into words? 

I don't know. 

Little Bee

Chris Cleave did the world a service writing this amazing book. Out of respect for anyone who might make the ONLY right decision and pick up this book... I will not give away any pertinent details or information. What you may know:
Little Bee is an immigrant from Nigeria

The end.

Just kidding, sort of. Little Bee comes from Nigeria. For many many pages some traumatic events are alluded to, but not shared, and then finally, you learn what happened so long ago that changed the lives of Little Bee and Sarah. The time shared between these two women is incredible, and my heart was so involved in their story, it was hard to put the book away for even an hour.

Chris Cleave so beautifully wrote a lovely story from the perspective of two very different women. I was so impressed by his ability to keep their voices consistent and strong through out the entire book.  Reading the additional sections in the back of the book (Q&A and so on) I admired his commitment to writing from the perspectives of characters that are very different from him in order to avoid the laziness of falling into his own voice. As a writer, I commend his efforts and am so grateful that I had the opportunity to pick it up off the "Summer Reads" table at B&N.

The Waiting Game

Over the past week and a half, I have put out my resume and applied for somewhere between 12 and 30 jobs. I want to move forward and start a career that I can stick with for awhile with opportunities to move up that don't include becoming a store manager of Starbucks.

I love my job. I love making coffee and running a shift. I like goofing around with my coworkers, and dealing with a crazy rush on a Saturday. I do not ever want to be the one responsible for hiring and staffing a store, building schedules or inventory orders. I respect my boss, because he's amazing at his job, but I would never want to do that. It doesn't sound fun to me. That means, the farthest I can go in Starbucks is where I am.. a Shift Supervisor. The end.

So, I have applied for positions at KinderCare, The Reading Corps of Minnesota, UTC Aerospace, Best Buy, and Anna's Banana's?


Well Wishes and Prayers are welcome,

With Thanks,
AnEnglishLitGraduate.

Dream and Shoot for the Stars....Until You're a Grown Up.

Lately, I have been feeling frustrated. I have been frustrated with the people who ask me what I'm doing after I graduate in 2 weeks. 

My answer: 
I have spent the past 16 years of my life in education. I have been learning, and pushing myself through school to get a degree. I will be graduating in 10 days, but the past 6 months have been spent writing theses and papers and studying to actually ensure that I walk across a stage and get mailed my diploma. Let me take a breather and figure it all out after the stress of finals and senior year are done. 

And... If I told you I want to be a librarian working in Children's Literature Archives or in ANY library setting.... You'll give me the same speech I have heard a dozen times since developing my plan:

"Is there money in that?"
"You have student loans to think about." 
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" 

What happened to the days when people built you up and said, "Hey, you're smart! With hard work and dedication you can do ANYTHING. You can BE anything."

Once you hit your twenties... people don't tell you to do what you want to do, to follow your dreams... they tell you to find a job with money. Find a job that is financially responsible... even if you hate it. 

I will not.  I will not fall into a job I hate just because it pays. I won't do it. I want to live the happiest life I can. I want to be inspired by my work. I don't want to spend the majority of my life working towards nothing. I want to work towards a dream, I want to spend my life surrounded by books, and if I hear how it's a bad idea one more time, I'm going to lose it. 

Let me have my dreams. 

-AFrustratedEnglishMajorAboutToGraduate