Happy to Be Waiting

There is an exit to my parents' neighborhood where there is no stop light. If you need to turn left, you do so against 4 lanes of busy traffic. As I pulled up to that stop sign the other day and saw cars flying by in both directions, my immediate reaction was to feel stressed. 

I will have to wait so long. 

Then, I took a deep breath, and turned my music up and sang along. I was right, I had to wait. But would I rather waste those minutes of my life being anxious about the trip taking a little longer or make those in-between moments filled with as much joy as I can squeeze into them? 

As I returned to my parents' home 30 minutes later, I watched another driver taking the same left turn. She had pulled out into the middle island area and I could see her face was red and her hands were gripping the steering wheel. This small moment would surely bring tension to her entire day. Maybe she was running late. Maybe she'd already had a terrible day and this impatience was incited by that. But what is the worst that could have happened if she sat at that stop sign 4 extra minutes? 

For my job, I often host mental wellness workshops with students. In those workshops, we practice staying in the moment to calm stressful thoughts. So often, we get caught up in worrying about what will come next or dwelling on something that happened in the past and so I teach grounding techniques like using all 5 senses or looking around for something that is 3 different colors. These tasks may sound silly or juvenile (the high schoolers often roll their eyes at me), but they help us to remember where we are right now and make the most of it.

Over the past few years, I have made a task for myself to notice something beautiful and joyful every single day and take a video or picture of it. This has helped me so much to stay grounded. I now literally "stop and smell the roses." Well, not roses usually. I live in Arizona. 🤣 But I find myself grabbing my phone to capture the birds flying or the clouds and it makes even mundane tasks like driving special. 

This is not a new concept. Everyone is always talking about living in the moment. I think, though, we imagine "the moment" to be the big things like enjoying a vacation or spending time with friends and family. But every moment is a moment that we can't get back. I want to savor every sing-along to the radio and smile at every quail crossing the road. I want to notice the stranger's tattoo and guess its meaning. I want to roll the windows down and feel the breeze. 

So, here's to waiting happily at the stop sign. I'm so grateful I got that moment. 

You're an Adult. You Make The Rules.

 A few weeks ago, I was watching Matilda: The Musical and there was a song called "When I Grow Up". In the song, the kids dream about the things they will be able to do as an adult that they can't as a kid. I remember that feeling so well. The feeling of being restricted by all these rules and dreaming of a time when you no longer had to follow others. The dreams those kids have of watching cartoons all day or eating candy on the way to work might not be my own dreams, but I do find myself often telling myself that I "can't" do something I want to do. Who says? 

I remember realizing this for the first time in high school when everyone would wear the same type of clothes every day. School T-shirts and jeans were the norm, but there wasn't a rule. I could wear a dress and still be within the dress code. So I started doing that. I wore bright colors and hats (when not inside) and whatever made me feel pretty. A lot of peers said it was attention-seeking, but honestly it was much more to do with free will and having some choice within my very controlled environemnt. As a teacher, even in schools with strict dress codes that I taught in, you'd find kids with crazy-colored socks or charms on their shoes or wrist bands that showed their personality. We can stick to laws/rules/expectations and still do what we want and I love that. 

The line in the Matilda song I like the most is "I'll play with things that mum pretends that mums don't think are fun." I loved that because I see so many adults say that a movie or show or activity is "for kids." I turn on Disney animated movies often to feel better. I like to go to the zoo, not with kids, but on my own. I think the world would be a better place if we spent more time coloring or playing or using our imagination. We tend to think that in order to be "responsible" we need to be less childlike. I don't think that's the case at all. I can show up on time and keep a job and pay my bills, but still play video games after work or buy myself a sno cone. Life is so short and I'd rather fill my days with bubbles and Halloween costumes than worrying about which insurance to choose, rewriting an email until it's perfect, or ironing my clothes (if it needs to be ironed to look nice, I don't want it.)

There also isn't a universal timeline for everyone's day. This is something I have been reteaching myself a lot lately. If I want to eat my lunch at 10:00am, I will. If I'm tired at 6:00pm and am done for the day, I go to bed. If I'm not tired until 2:00am, I got to bed then. I've even turned on a dance workout video at 1 in the morning because I was struck with the urge to move my body. I do understand that I don't have kids, which heavily impacts daily schedules, but I always maintain my responsibilities. Like with the high school dresses, I can do what I want and still be a great contributing member of society. 

So here's your sign to live for you child self today. Eat a Gogurt. Build with some Legos. Watch Spongebob. Jump on a trampoline. Take a nap. Start a Nerf gun war. It's never too late. 

To Be Known Is To Be Loved

 First of all, I'm back. 2025 was the first time in 12 years I never once blogged. The only writing I did were book reviews and work emails. My self-talk shouted, "What's the point?" and I couldn't seem to drown out that doubt. The point isn't quality writing though. It isn't about the number of readers or if I have any original thoughts or ideas. Instead, it's about me taking the never-ending monologue in my head and releasing it. It's about giving myself an outlet to create rather than always consume. I attend a lot of author panels and the most common advie I hear over and over again from those authors is, "Just write anything. Don't stop and edit. Just write." And that's what I'm here to do. This post will undoubtedly meander and not be concise, but that's okay. 

I've always been the kind of person who is looking toward the reaction, not the action. At the movie theater, I want to watch my friends and family laugh almost more than I want to see the movie. I want to watch the concert-goers dance and sing. I want to see the sports fans jumping up and down. I want to watch the groom's reaction, not the bride in her gown. For me, the most beautiful things in life aren't the sights and the feats, but the emotions and the connections we make. 

Oftentimes, this can be negative for me. I can be so worried about everyone else and their feelings, that I forget to consider my own. But I think this "looking back" also helps me to know people. I remember what songs bring joy to my friends faces when we're driving in the car. I catch the smirk of my brother when he thinks no one is looking. I notice how someone leans into their partner to calm their nerves. The more I watch people, the more I love them. While we fear the things we don't know, we care more for those once we really see them. 

We, as humans, also love to be known. Some of us pretend we don't. We can close ourselves off and not share easily. There's no greater feeling, though, than someone remembering us. A text out of the blue, an invitation, a check-in after a difficult time or just taking the time to listen are such powerful actions that can make all the difference in our lives. I know I'm not alone in this, because I know how popular romance books are. Every romance book I've ever read involves a partner knowing something personal about the main character. Every single one. They might remember their favorite take-out food or take them to their favorite concert. They might buy earrings or a dress in their favorite color. Right now, Heated Rivals is the most popular show on HBO Max. Most of the viewers aren't gay athletes like the main characters, but we all relate. Why? Because the show is shot after shot after shot of them looking at each other. Them seeing each other and knowing each other and loving each other. Millions of readers and viewers eat these stories up. Because we crave to be known. 

I was recently asked what I am the most proud of. For years, my automatic response to that question has been either obtaining a Master's degree or the students I helped in my 7 years of teaching. And that's true. I am proud of my efforts and my work. But honestly, I think I'm more proud of the people I've surrounded myself with. So many people I know lose touch or fall away from friends, but I've tried to make a point of reaching out, noticing, remembering, and listening. I may not talk to some friends very often, but I am confident that if I really needed something, I'd have 15 people that wouldn't hesitate to help. 

As a single person, I have people concerned all the time about me being lonely or sad. I am rarely lonely and enjoy my own company, but I every once in a while I fall into this sadness about not having a person that knows me. No one knows what the last show I binged was or what song I am playing on repeat. No one knows my current snack obsession or my favorite scent. I don't have anyone to care about what keeps me up at night or how to calm me down when I'm feeling stressed. But I swear anytime I feel like that, a friend swoops in to show me I'm wrong. Skye sends a Marco Polo to say, "I was just thinking of you. How did ___ go?" Hillary snaps me with a simple "It's 12:34!" because she knows it's my favorite time. Bailey texts to tell me she is at my favorite restaurant in Lincoln and remembers I always ordered Pollo con Arroz. Someone in my book club chats to ask if I want to go to an event. Sarah texts almost every Tuesday to tell me that I work too hard then watch a horror movie "together." And those simple moments show me that I am known. I am loved. What a privelege.