Why I accepted the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge

It's everywhere. Video after video being posted on social media, highlighted on television and discussed daily. After a few days of seeing the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge videos, I was over it. Maybe it's the fast-paced 20-something in me that constantly needs something new, but the videos were more annoying than anything after a week. Then I got nominated; I really dug in my heals.

As I saw more and more of my friends excepting the challenge, I decided to learn more about this disease that had everyone dumping water on their head. I learned that ALS does not discriminate. It does not know age, race, gender. The hard part is that doctors don't know what causes it; it is a mystery. Those affected by ALS have a hard road ahead. Their life expectancy is two to five years, in which time their body slowly deteriorates until they have to eat through a feeding tube, are confined to a wheelchair, and have to rely on others to use the restroom, sit up and breathe.

The idea of not being able to run, stand up in the kitchen to bake, and walk around to take photos. It's a terrifying and heart-wrenching prospect. I feel so, so blessed to have my health in tact. As if the research didn't have convinced to douse myself with ice water, I then watched the following two videos and my mind was made up. I was accepting the challenge.

Video 1: http://aplus.com/a/anthony-carbajal-ice-bucket-challenge-emotional-video

Video 2: http://espn.go.com/boston/story/_/id/11366772/in-als-fight-pete-frates-message-loud-clear-ice-bucket-challenge

Why moving home after college feels like a failure

I had two major life goals: have a job (or a serious lead) by the time I graduated college and not move home after college. I failed at both. I can't say that I haven't been trying to find a job; I've sent out resumes, follow ups, and reached out to friends and professional. I'm trying, but this is a topic for another time. I want to talk about the latter: moving in with my parents. I've lived at home for 10 days now and seven of those days have been spent on vacation with my parents. 

There's been a strain on my relationship with my parents since I've moved home. Now, I love my parents. My mom and dad are the two most kind-hearted, giving, loving and all-around wonderful people. You can say I'm bias, but, for anyone who has met my parents, you know that they're truly an amazing dynamic duo. I have heard some horror stories about families and I know how blessed I am for my parents to be celebrating their 28th wedding anniversary today (happy anniversary, guys!) and still be as in love as they were on their wedding day. As rockin' as my parents are, any college grad who has moved home after college knows that it's an adjustment. 

I've been "on my own" for four years. Yes, my parents supported me financially, I lived with roommates, and I respected the rules of my dorm, sorority house and apartment complexes, but I haven't had supervision or someone trying to kiss me on the cheek before I go to sleep in four years. I would drive the hour and a half home fairly often and my parents would come visit me at school, and I was always so excited to see them. However, I knew that I'd be back on my own in 48-72 hours. I could deal. 

At this point you might think I soundslike a spoiled brat and I kind of feel like one, but hear me out. After college, where I've just spent four years maturing, growing, and figuring things out on my own, it's hard to establish the line with my parents between my new adulthood and feeling like a little girl having to rely on them for food and shelter because I failed on my first life goal. I'm struggling with feeling like a failure for not being able to find a job (although I admit I'm being picky) and therefore unable to fund my own living arrangements, guilty for having to impose on my parents during their empty-nester excitement/travel phase of life, and embarroussed when people ask me what I'm doing now and I don't really have anything to tell them. It stinks. 

It's been hard for my parents to adjust too. My parents let my brother move home after college and even his fiancé lived at my parents house before they bought a place of their own. Again, we're blessed that my parents gave us the option to move home and live free of rent. They've experienced having a child home again. Somehow though, the situation seems to infuriate me more.... Which makes me feel like even more of a child stomping her feet having a temper tantrum, making me more upset with myself in the end. Cue the failure, guilt and embarrassment feelings round two.

So now that I'm feeling awesome about myself, I want to escape. I want to go back to "my place," but one look at my room, the basement and the bonus room cramped with my stuff and I'm reminded that I don't have that escape anymore. I can outrun my frustration with my parents for a little while, but I always ending my saying something or snapping at the two people who have loved me and supported me every day of my life. Okay, now I really do feel like an ungrateful brat. I hope I've conveyed my love and gratefulness to my parents. Half of the reason I've worked so hard to maintain good grades and give back through philanthropies is to make my parents proud. Through their example and their high standards (athough they've never made me feel pressured to achieve so much), I've accomplished a lot in my 22 years. Yet, when it comes to the big life goals, I've failed not only myself, but my parents as well. I know that my mix of emotions will remain until I can prove to myself, my parents and my friends that I can make it in the real world and I've somehow repaid my parents for all they have given me. Until a land a job with a company I'm passionate about and get back on the life track that I've always strived for, I'm going to be dealing with this life-size sense of failure and working on some breathing exercises or something. 

Walking Under The Arch

Four years. Four years of school work, of late nights, of drama, of countless cups of coffee, of new friends, of philanthropy, of learning (both personal and academic), of life. All of this and so much more was running though my mind as I walked downtown after giving my final presentation of my college career this afternoon. As I approached The Arch, just like I had so many times before, part of me didn't want to walk under it. Walking through the pillars meant that college was really over... It's a little scary and daunting. It has been drilled into my mind to walk around The Arch for years, even before I began college. So, the fact that I was about to walk through it made me a little scared. Fists clenched and eyes closed, I finally walked under The Arch.

After that I was running figure eights through it! My group, whom I had just presented with in my final campaigns class, went and got a celebratory drink, but when I walked back by on the way to my car I was overcome with pride. It seems so trivial, walking under an arch, but for a UGA student and for me, it signifies so much of that dedication and determination over the four years when exhaustion never seemed to leave you. I still can't believe that I'm done, but what a ride it has been! All the work and late nights were worth it, just to walk under The Arch and graduate from The University of Georgia. I will forever bleed red & black! Go Dawgs!

Goodbye, Athens!

Today I moved out of my last college apartment.

There are so many mixed emotions with moving. Seeing all of my stuff, the things that are familiar and dear to me, shoved into the back of a car. It made me realize how much "stuff"I have, but also how insignificant possessions are in the grand scheme of things.
Then there are the friendships. I was blessed to have three very different, very supportive and very inspirational roommates this year. We were random roommates and it turned out to be one of the best, most eye-opening experiences of my college career.

Then there is the final drive through the town I called home for four years: Athens. I've done so much "growing up" in that town. I discovered organizations that fit my passions. I met new people and made wonderful new friends. I pushed myself to and beyond my limits in both my thoughts and actions. I celebrated the big 2-1 in Athens. I felt heartbreak and lose. Athens has been a journey, a struggle and a blessing to me. There were amazing times and there were times when I just wanted to runaway.

All in all, Athens has helped me to realize what I want in life. Any UGA grad you speak with will tell you about the glory days between the hedges, they'll tell you the crazy stories and they'll say without a doubt that Athens will always be their home. There is a passion that comes with Athens. Students, graduates, families, everyone loves Athens. I love Athens too. However, I am ready and excited to move on to bigger and better. Now just to figure out where the "bigger" and "better" is...

The alone feeling

Your roommate tells you that she wants to go out tonight, so you get ready while she's out to dinner with her boyfriend. When they get back and hang out for awhile, you're not surprised when you get a text from her saying that she doesn't feel like going out anymore. You scan your recent texts for someone, anyone who you could invite to go out. Scrolling. Scrolling. Nothing. They're either not in town or you're not close enough friends to call for a last minute night out. So instead you text your other roommate to vent. 

She's at a party and was a little overwhelmed about going because her ex was going to be there. After your vent, you ask how she's doing and ask if she needs some company--because at this point you just want to get out of your apartment to prove to your roommate that she's wrong and missing out by not going out. The party is overwhelming, so you go and pick up your roommate and drive downtown to grab a drink. 

Sitting at the high-top table, music blaring, nothing is off limits. Any baggage you were carrying is free game and so it comes out that your roommate feels like she has no friends and describes the exact recent text message scroll technique you did earlier. 

*Spoiler alert: this was my night and my roommates.*

Sitting there talking to my roommate and one of my best friends I realized that I'm not the only one who gets that alone feeling in the pit of my stomach. The gloom you get when you feel like you have no friends, no one close by to call on, no one to talk to.

It stinks and tears are almost a guarantee, but I've always felt that I was the only one who felt that way, who felt alone. But I realized tonight that my roommate, even standing in the middle of a crowded party, felt alone. I wish I could say that calling on God in these moments will make that feeling go away, but it's a very real feeling. Definitely call on and pray to God. He helps in more ways than you can ever imagine, but this loneliness feeling just sits there and grows. I don't know what the solution is. Maybe being more open with your friends or being honest about your feelings with your roommate when she ditches. But maybe it's just owning the fact that we all need to feel alone every once in awhile in order to feel loved and cherished our friends and family. Owning the feeling and praying about it... I'm going to try that combo next time. 

Why being single has been a blessing

I'm 22. In college years, that's old. It's time for me to move on and start my big girl life. Yet, I'm left dwelling on the past. For the majority of the past four years, my college years, I've been single. I've gone on dates, "talked" with a guy (the definition of which I'm still hazy on), and dated, but I have not had a serious relationship in college. Some jaws might drop at the idea of not having a serious boyfriend during this time, but I see it as one of the biggest blessings I've experienced to date.  

In the past four years, I've joined organizations, studied, experimented with style, learned the meaning of faith, made new friends, said goodbye to old relationships, built a photography business and held three internships. I've been busy, but I've also found myself. I finally know who I am right now in this moment. Before these years of self-discovery, I was a mirror. I watched, picked up on traits and sayings that were "cool" and reflected back these traits. I was being molded by the things that I thought were valued, the things that I thought people wanted to see. In actuality, I was becoming a junk pile of different people, hiding myself with other people's individuality. I was a sinking ship, heading nowhere fast. It was a slippery slope and I didn't even recognize it. 

I've learned. I've learned from heartbreak and adventure. I've learned from my leadership positions and my friends. The connection string through all of this is that I wasn't tied down to one person or thing. I was free to explore and discover. 

It's been a journey, starting with feeling alone. There came a point when I felt like I had no friends, no real friends at least. I was changing my personality and energy based on the people I was with, not based on how I felt. I was literally a twin of whoever I was with--I can't even imagine how annoying that must have been! I wanted people to like me and know me, but I wanted it for the wrong reasons. The real problem was that I didn't even know myself. I joined the clubs that I felt obligated to join instead of the ones that I was truly passionate about. 

Four years, especially the last two, I have been in a constant state of self-discovery. Now though, I have never felt so comfortable in my own skin. There are still moments where I want to bite my tounge or hide from embarrassment, but I am better equipped to handle these situations. While I value the guys that I've met and dated over the past few years, I know that I would still be searching for my true self if I have been in a serious relationship. I wouldn't have been on my own or been able to feel alone, which is where I finally began to uncover who I was and who I wanted to be. Do I sometimes wish that I had had a boyfriend and didn't have to ask around for a date for a sorority date night? Of course! It would have been so much easier, but I never would have figured out what I'm comfortable with or felt my heart beat a hundred miles an hour every time  I asked a guy on my sorority date night. It was moments like those that I found a new piece of myself. I cherish each piece of this crazy life puzzle. As an old 22 year old, I am finally ready to move forward, finally ready (and excited) to just be me. 

What are we missing?

Do you ever think about all that you're missing out on? Too depressing to think about? Let me put it a different way.... Have you ever had a stranger, a total rando say hello to you and instead of saying hello and asking his/her name, you just smile and walk (quickly) away? Have you ever seen someone in the grocery store who looks like they could use a little help reaching or carrying something? Yet, because you don't want t to be awkward or because it isn't necessarily your business, you don't offer to help? I hope by this point you're thinking, "Yep, guilty and guilty," because I know that I am.

So many times I avoid the unknown, whether it is helping a person at the store or starting a conversation with the person next to me on the bus. We, all of us, shy away from the unknown. It is not until the moments after I pass up the opportunity to make a new connection or help someone that I regret it. I regret not helping, not at least offering. For such extrovert who can talk to anyone, what am I afraid of? Thinking of how much more I could know if I had taken the opportunities to talk to all these new people, perhaps I should feel sad or even bad. Instead, I feel inspired; I feel encouraged to never let one of these opportunities pass me up again.

I just finished the movie Last Love. In the movie, a young girl befriends a widowed elderly man and they become dear friends. As I looked at the two of them, I couldn't help but reflect on my own life. All of my grandparents have passed away and I desperately miss their presence. I want that older and wiser person in my life again. Who knows, maybe that little old lady at the store, who can't quite reach the top shelf, could help restore that presence in my life. It's a happy thought and there is only one way to find out if I'm right... to rise about the potential awkwardness, the possible weird looks and the few minutes of time I might waste and offer my help. Just the thought makes me smile. One little gesture can make someone's day. Even if the little old lady doesn't need my help, at least I offered. At least I tried.