SOME SAD LATE NIGHT THOUGHTS

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how the world was when I was a kid. And how it looked to me.

I grew up in a suburban neighborhood in Northwest Ohio. I spent my days playing soccer and goofing around with my siblings and writing songs on my computer from 1995 that couldn’t access internet. Songs about Christmas and stopping and smelling the roses and a cute boy in my class.

Meanwhile, there was this big world outside my window that I wasn’t even aware of. But it’s hard to imagine that it was as bad as things have been getting recently.

Then I think about 9/11 and how that shocked and changed our nation. How much hurt it brought people and how much damage it caused. And I think, maybe the world felt like it was going to end 15 years ago, too.

I love Twitter. I love seeing clever jokes that are carefully crafted into 180 characters or less. I like seeing interactions between and updates from my friends.

But now every time I open the app, I feel this overwhelming wave of sadness and this need to cry. Because like many people my age, I hear a lot of my news from Twitter first. And the fact of today is that people are hurting every day. Some days it’s far away, and the pain doesn’t hit me as hard, or stay with me as long. But these past few days have been brutal.

People killing people. Because of race, because of fear, because of prejudice, human beings are killing one another.

I started learning about Alton Sterling and Philando Castile as their stories were told through hashtags and video footage and then news stories that were shared in between tweets of funny vines and “medieval reactions” and horoscopes. So I closed the app and watched Philip DeFranco and read some articles, marveling at how close these events happened and how the world can still be this way and just feeling that overwhelming sadness again until I had to put it out of my mind and get on with my day.

Tonight I went on Twitter and saw a new hashtag trending, as I’m sure people are aware: #Dallas. More deaths–this time cops. More shootings. Every day it seems there is a story that breaks that is sad enough to last… well I don’t know how long it’s supposed to last until we start changing or stop mourning or whatever. But the point is there’s never enough time. These wounds aren’t healing because more and more is happening on top of them. Our nation is being cut and torn apart and we’re mourning something new each day. 

And I think to when it was 2007 and my biggest fear was going down the basement stairs alone.

Now I’m scared of everything. The future terrifies me. The thought of bringing children into this world worries me more than anything and I think, are kids today aware of the evil? Are they going to grow up completely unaware that in 2016, their parents were so scared?

Then again, some kids do know. They know all too well. The young daughter in the Philando Castile video–who had to comfort her mother moments after his death–she knows all too well.

And I guess that’s privilege. The fact that I learn/ed about the horrifying events of history instead of living them.

I still hold plenty of privilege, but I no longer have the privilege of ignorance bliss. I guess that’s the conclusion I’ve reached tonight. I’m 19 and I’m learning more each day about the reality of our world and the evil that human beings are capable of committing.

Sorry for the word vomit. Sorry I couldn’t be more eloquent on this subject (many people are much better at this than I am). Sorry that I’m failing to see the good in the world tonight.

Sincerely,

Sammy

PS. I still believe this to be true so I’m going to leave this here.

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SOME LATE NIGHT THOUGHTS ON HYPNOTISTS

Dear Reader,

I really don’t know a lot anything about hypnotism separate from the time when a hypnotist came to Miami for our back-to-school event my freshman year–and I wasn’t even in the audience for his show. I just heard that everyone was blown away because of the way he hypnotised these people.

But for some reason, my brain has decided to really speculate the effects of hypnosis and really think of it as this power that could be used for good. And sometimes when my brain is overflowing with thoughts, my go-to instinct is to open a word document or a note page (or twitter) to catch some of them.

These thoughts could not be condensed into 140 characters, however, so here we are.

I really just want to get these thoughts out and, like, talk to someone about this, you know? I guess this is where another person would come in, but it’s 3AM and no one has reached out to my tweet so I assume they are all asleep (Or not in the mood to amuse me).

Which brings us to the present, where I am communicating these ideas to you.

Alright, first of all, can I please just be hypnotised so that every time I hear the word “kazoo” or something I go and do all of my homework? And then like every night I can have my roommate or someone be like, “Sammy, kazoo,” and my face will go blank as I fall into this trance and sit down at my desk to complete my work. And then in an hour or two, she can be like, “Sammy, tapioca,” and I’ll come to and my assignments will be completed.

Of course, this can prove tricky if the person hypnotised can’t remember what happened while they were under, but all I’m saying is what’s the use in having a person start acting like a chicken every time a word is said when instead you could be like, “hey guess what, every time someone says peanut butter pudding, you’re gonna make your bed” or “you’re gonna clean your room” or “you’re gonna call your mother” (that last one would be hilarious).

But then this brings me to the questioning of how words are chosen–or do hypnotists even leave their participants with this quiet life change? Or do they reverse it before they get off the stage? Because if not, do these people have to disclaim that they did this thing once before freshman year and now they have this strange trigger word? Or would they even know??

Can you imagine if you were on a date with someone and they were like, “hey, I just want to be upfront with you. You can’t say *passes paper with a word written on it* (side question: can they say the word themselves?) around me because I will immediately jump up and start doing “Gangnam style” until you say rowboat.”

What if that were the norm? Hahahaha can you imagine??

And yeah, so how do they choose the words? Because, sure, I don’t think I’ve heard the word “kazoo” said aloud in quite a while, but the possibility is still out there, you know?

Anyway, I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just have a lot of unanswered questions but I don’t want to actually start Googling them because I have work I can be doing and I’m afraid I would spend far too much time doing research if I start going down that slippery slope.

I just really want to be hypnotised to run a few miles when someone says “trenchcoat lingerie” (I feel like that one’s safe) because running is one of those things that could benefit my body so much if my brain would just get out of the way–as are many things in life, I feel.

Man, did I just have a philosophical breakthrough?

Let this be a lesson to everyone that you should always encourage and amuse your “pass the blunt” thoughts.

Sincerely,

Sammy

MAYBE APRIL IS ALWAYS HARD

Dear Reader,

I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned this or not, but I’m collecting stuff from this year and turning it into a book. It’s not really for anyone–it’s just a glorified journal, really. In fact, with the posts I’ve been writing so far, I probably won’t want anyone else to read it.

Anyway, I’m organizing the stuff for April because I just realized that it’s almost halfway over, and looking back through it all, it’s been pretty rocky.

And then looking back to last year’s April–well, that was really rocky, too. (I can’t even listen to my April (2015) playlist in order because it automatically causes tears to spring to my eyes)

But maybe April is always hard. Maybe it’s the pressure of final deadlines and the struggle of not being able to combat my laziness/habits that come with ADD. I actually already wrote a post for tonight about how much I hate being a person with ADD, but that turned out to be really self-deprecating and just mean (I didn’t feel like holding back), so I decided not to post it.

Tucked it away for my journal, instead.

And then I looked back at the journal entries I’ve made throughout April and all the other blog posts I haven’t been able to publish because they’re too dark or whatever–and then I went on my Instagram.

I’ve been doing this picture-a-day challenge and everyday, there’s a new picture of me, grinning wide, often with people, looking so happy.

My April looks so happy.

And at times, it has been. I’ve had some good memories this month and I’ve taken pictures with people who mean a lot to me.

But I’ve also cried in class.

I’ve also stayed awake all night, worrying about all the stuff I need to do,

all the while, not being able to gain the momentum to get it done.

I’ve questioned just about everything I’ve done this semester

and I’m pretty sure I’ve done just about everything wrong.

So here I am, writing this in the library. It’s past midnight so the weekend is over. The week I’m dreading has technically begun, and it’s that time of year where I need this semester to be over just as much as I need more time.

I know I’ll get through it, though. I know May will come and soon I’ll be home with my sister and April will just be a memory I can forget.

But until then, I’ll just keep smiling in my selfies and save my thoughts for my journal.

Sincerely,

Sammy

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE AMERICAN SCHOOL SYSTEM

Dear Reader,

If you didn’t already know, I’m an education major. And a few weeks ago in class, I started thinking about all the things that annoy me about the american school system. As it turns out, there’s a lot.

So, I wrote an open letter, then I read it out loud in front of a camera, and forgot to upload it for a few weeks.

Oops.

But I’m sharing it now because sometimes it’s good to get things off your chest, you know? And let’s be honest–there’s plenty that can be fixed with our education system, and I’m not really seeing the progress I’m looking for.

So here’s a video of me reading a very abridged list of what worries me regarding the future of America and our school system. Enjoy if you want.

Sincerely,

Sammy

WHY GENERATION Y IS UNHAPPY

Dear Reader,

I read a really good article yesterday called “Why Generation Y is unhappy.” I encourage everyone (especially people around my age) to check it out, but I’ll just summarize it for now.

Basically, the new adults are finding themselves to be really unhappy and they can’t quite figure out why. But when we analyze how we’ve been raised and the kind of environment we’ve all grown up in, it makes perfect sense.

As Tim Urban (the author of this article) brings up, we’ve been raised to believe that we are special. That we all are special. Unlike our parents, we went through school being overly encouraged that we can achieve anything. “Anyone can be president” is a phrase I heard a lot throughout elementary school–which, upon reflection, is kind of weird because why is president the best job we can think of anyway? I think there are much more ambitious dreams we could have and, honestly, no one I know even really dreams of being president.

Anyway, that not only results in outrageously big dreams and unrealistic goals, but it sets the foundation for a lot of entitlement issues. Everyone goes through school thinking that they’re special. But that literally cannot be true. It is impossible for everyone to be special.

And then Tim says: “Even right now, the GYPSYs reading this are thinking, ‘Good point…but I actually am one of the few special ones’–and this is the problem.”

I actually laughed out loud in my student center, because I couldn’t stop that thought from crossing my own mind as well.

Another quote that struck me directly was when he explained his term for all of us in this category: GYPSYs.

“A GYPSY is a unique brand of yuppie, one who thinks they are the main character of a very special story.”

…….

I don’t know how long you’ve been reading my blog, but that’s how all of this began. I thought of myself as the protagonist in a rather unfulfilling story, and I wanted to change that. I wanted my story to be great.

So I was kind of taken aback (and embarrassed) that Tim had me pegged from the fourth sentence.

And that’s the thing–reading this post was weird. I mean, he was calling us GYPSYs delusional, and then proving it! And I knew all of this to some extent, but I didn’t really want to face it. And I was reading it thinking, so what? I should give up my dreams and realize how average I am and then I’ll be happy? That doesn’t make any sense.

But then I got to the end, where he gave three very important pieces of advice.

1. Stay wildly ambitious. Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to give up my dreams if I wanted to. (And I don’t want to.)
2. Stop thinking that you’re special. I especially like what he said to clarify: “You’re another completely inexperienced young person who doesn’t have all that much to offer yet. You can become special by working really hard for a long time.” So, I may not be special now, but it doesn’t mean I won’t ever be.  
3. Ignore everyone else. This might be the hardest advice to take, just because it’s so difficult when you see your peers (and people much younger) going off and living lives that you wish could be yours. But by ignoring others, I can truly focus on myself and what I want to accomplish.

So that’s my take on this article. Definitely still check it out if you haven’t already! And, if you’re in generation Y, I urge you to stop trying to write a story that will rival that of your peers, but just write one that will make you happy.

That’s what I’m going to try to do.

Sincerely,

Sammy

LET’S TALK ABOUT MINDFULNESS (and what really happened my freshman year)

Dear Reader,

I came across a video yesterday that I felt I needed to share. I can’t fully describe what I felt as I watched it, except that it sort of gave me the answers that I wasn’t fully aware I was looking for yet. Does that make sense?

Well, anyway, I need to share it. So here it is:

And now I’ll tell you why.

I’ve mentioned before how difficult freshman year was for me and how challenging the transition was, but I haven’t gone into much depth about it. I felt very overwhelmingly sad a lot, but I never thought it was depression. I know what depression is–I know it’s a chemical imbalance in the brain. Even more, I know it requires more than just “thinking happy thoughts” to be resolved. But this sadness that I was feeling didn’t feel like that.

It felt like loneliness. And self hatred. And extreme, unbearable laziness.

So I did some research, called the health center, and scheduled an appointment with a therapist.

I could write an entirely separate post about that therapy session, because it brought out so many emotions and was such a terrifying and new experience for me, but I’ll keep it short for now. I went and talked to a very nice middle-aged man, and he basically told me straight off the bat that he thought I was depressed.

I don’t know how valid this diagnosis was, or if he was just speculating or assuming or what, but I’m still coming to terms with that. Because I still don’t know that I fully believe that it was depression. I still don’t want to label it as something that can be so serious, when, for me, it felt like I was just wallowing in my room all day being sad and lonely–which is not the same.

Here’s another video I found this week that perfectly describes what I was feeling this year–better than I can, at least.

So, that’s where I was at. Faking happiness. Not sure what I was going through. Not sure who was even there that I could talk to about it.

And that kind of brings us up to date all the way to today. I’ve been thinking about this concept of happiness a lot lately. I’ve tried to reflect on times when I feel the most happy and I try to repeat them in my mind over and over, so I can remind myself what it feels like. I’ve read The Happiness Project and made lists of resolutions for myself to keep. I’ve decided to go with the mindset: you are not happy now, but you will be once again. You just have to work for it.

Because that’s my biggest downfall. I am overwhelmingly lazy, and I think that maybe if I had just tried harder this past spring to make myself happy–to create more situations that bring authentic happiness, instead of anxiety and discomfort–then I would have been happy.

But I don’t know how true that thought really is. Because, sure, I can create beautiful scenarios where I’m at ease and I can live these happy memories, and store them to replay at night when I need to remind myself. But what am I supposed to do when I find myself in uncomfortable situations?

Because that’s what college really did to me. Speaking up in class, going to parties, interacting with strangers, praying people will like me–this all gave me anxiety. And I’m using this term lightly–again, I know how serious anxiety can be and these feelings I had may certainly be lesser when compared to others. I never had panic attacks or sought medication or anything like that. I would just feel extreme discomfort. My face would grow hot, I’d feel sick to my stomach, my hands would shake, I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else, I’d get head rushes–all of that stuff.

So what happens when I feel like that? I can’t just create these perfect scenarios all the time in hopes that I would remain happy. No matter how hard I work, I can’t do that.

Which is where mindfulness comes in–and where I urge you, if you haven’t already, to watch that first video.

They bring up a lot of good points and insight that I never saw before. Everyone just wants to feel safe. That’s what we crave. It’s what we need. And I so strongly relate to Ashley when she talks about talking to the barista (anyone who knows me can vouch for my awful–and inevitable–drive-thru interactions) and not only thinks about how she’s about to make a fool of herself, but how bizarre it is that this is a problem. And how does this not happen to normal people? Why me?

Wow, I feel like I’ve been writing for too long now.

But that’s where I’m at right now. This is how I’m feeling, and mindfulness is definitely something I’m going to look into. Because reminding yourself to be in the moment, and using simple tricks that mindfulness can teach (such as taking deep breaths and thinking about exactly what is in your control–such as how you are feeling at any possible moment) can really help curb the overwhelming feelings of terror and sadness and all of that.

I think it’s just the next step, and a very important step, that I need to take as I work towards being happier.

Sincerely,

Sammy

PS. Please let me know if you have any information or resources on mindfulness, as well as personal experiences with it. I would love to hear any and all takes on this concept, and it would be great to embark on this together.

10 REASONS WHY I LOVE BEING A NANNY

Dear Reader,

For the past two summers, I have spent my days with multiple kids between the ages of 5 and 14. And yes, sometimes the hours go by slowly, and some days I think to myself, I am not getting paid enough for this, but at the end of the summer, I’m happy with my choice. And it certainly beats any alternative that I can imagine.

So, here are 10 reasons why I’m happy to call myself a nanny.

1) NO UNIFORM

Sure, I have to wake up earlier than I do for school when I’m a nanny, but possibly the best thing about my job is that I get to wear whatever I want (and look as gross as I want). So, for me, that means shorts and t-shirt every day, paired with messy hair and baseball hats.

2) I GET TO WATCH DISNEY SHOWS

Ah, my guilty pleasure. Liv and Maddie. The Amazing World of Gumball. Sofia the First. Gravity Falls. It may not seem “socially acceptable” to know as much about these shows as I do, but when I pull the “nanny” card, I’m in the clear. (Sidenote: the new Descendants movie is awesome.)

3) AND SOMETIMES I GET TO DO NOTHING AT ALL

I’m currently watching two older boys while the rest of their family is in Greece. Because I’m here 24/7, there are many times when they’re in the basement playing Fifa and Minecraft, while I get to stay upstairs and watch Netflix, make myself some food, play with their dog, read, or sometimes even nap. But I’m getting paid regardless.

4) CASH MONAAAY

And money is money. Sure, I have to deal with the temper tantrums and squash the occasional squabbles, but on pay day, it’s all worth it.

5) KIDS ARE FUNNY

They really do say the darndest things. My favorite quote from this summer is when the 5-year-old I’m babysitting told me: “He’s in love with me, I just don’t think he knows it yet.”

Girl is preaching to the choir.

6) HUGS FOR DAYS

This summer, I had the greatest pleasure of babysitting two girls (a rarity for me). And while they were more troublesome than the boys I watch, they were also more cuddly and affectionate. And there really is nothing quite like tight hugs from little kids.

7) SO MANY ACTIVITIES

The zoo. Mini golf. Our town pool. Ice cream shops. Sky Zone (trampolines 4 dayz). Imagination Station. Cedar Point. And, best of all, it’s always the parent’s treat.

8) EXERCISE

I definitely benefited the most from the boys I had last summer. From playing games in the pool to the ones they created on their trampoline to whiffle ball in their front yard, there was never a day that I wasted just sitting on the couch.

9) I’M A ROLE MODEL

From answering their questions about high school and college to giving random advice about life (“yes, even I used to fight with my sister, but now we’re best friends!”), I feel like I’m, in a small way, helping mold some of these children. Or at least helping open their eyes by offering advice. And kids can be surprising good listeners (because they actually care about the answers I’m giving them and the stories I’m telling).

10) I GET TO ACT LIKE A KID AGAIN

The world just seems brighter through the eyes of a kid. And with nannying I get to have karaoke contests and dance parties and baking competitions and play let’s pretend and create things with play doh and make games of my own. I get to laugh out loud daily and be goofy and weird 24/7. What more could I ask for, really?

Sincerely,

Sammy

 

JOIN IF YOU HATE IT

Dear Reader,

Someone said something to me the other day that really surprised me. We were talking about some club on campus and this girl says, “if you hate it, join it.”

So I’m thinking how does that make any sense? But she explained.

Don’t join clubs about things you hate, necessarily. I mean, if you can’t stand to write, you probably shouldn’t join the newspaper. But her point was that you can change things.

I feel like a lot of people don’t realize the power they have to change things. Of course you have people like Martin Luther King Jr and Steve Jobs, who challenged the way things were and evoked true change, but they’re one in a million, right?

Well maybe not. Maybe the only true difference is that they believed–I mean truly believed–that things can change and that they can be the ones to prompt it.

So why don’t we all think like that?

I mean, think about something you hate and think about why you hate it. Maybe you hate your student government because the rest of your grade doesn’t care, or maybe you hate modern rap because the messages are always vulgar and meaningless. But maybe you actually love leadership and decision-making or amazing combinations of rhythm and rhyme.

The point is that you can change it! I truly believe if you are passionate enough about something and remain hardworking and dedicated, you can achieve anything.

And yes, I realize I’m coming off as a huge cheese ball, but think about it!

I was thinking about this the other day in one of my classes because we were discussing modern architecture for an hour. And I hated it. And I thought how are people fascinated by this?

But then we started analyzing premodern architecture designs, like cathedrals that took hundreds of years to build because of all of the intricate details. And I thought this is beautiful. This is art.

And then I got mad because I hate modern architecture. I hate how everything changed just to put functionalism first. Sure, it’s great to have functional buildings, but that doesn’t mean they have to be ugly.

And I started thinking, if I were really, truly passionate about architecture, I could change things! I could inspire people to start making buildings like they used to, while still being functional. I mean, why not? There’s got to be some solution that could work.

So I don’t know, maybe this isn’t making much sense due to my incredible lack of sleep, or maybe this is nothing new. Maybe you’ve heard it all before. But it’s a pretty new idea for me.

In my life, I feel like everyone around me are ruling out certain occupations because of things they hate. I’m an education major and believe me, there is plenty to hate regarding the way our education in the US is changing, but I’m not going to quit because of that. I’m passionate about teaching and evoking the kind of change in young people that I wish had been evoked in myself.

And yeah, common core sucks and deciding teachers’ fates solely on test scores is wrong, but that doesn’t have to be our future.

So this is my point: Do you hate how photoshopped the models in magazines are these days? Do you hate greek life because you think everyone hates each other? Do you hate how every teen novel these days seems to have a love triangle? You may not be able to change The Hunger Games or Twilight, or force everyone on campus to be best friends, or convince everyone in charging of editing photos for those magazines to go on strike, but you don’t have to. You can write your own book, publish your own magazine, or at least try and inspire others to coexist.

You can be a trailblazer. You can do big things and make real change, even if it seems impossible from where you are now.

It’s possible.

Just don’t knock it ‘til you try it.

Sincerely,

Sammy

{TOP 5} I LOVE ABOUT PAGES

Dear Reader,

Because it’s Christmas break and I’m at home, being a hermit, I’ve been obsessed with WordPress and blogging in general. And not just writing and sharing–but finding new blogs and interacting and socializing (which is really ironic, considering I seem to only leave my room for food these days).

Anyway, one of the first things I do when I find a new blog is check out their “About” page. This isn’t ever a make-it or break-it deal, but I enjoy learning a bit more about the author and their blog before I decide to follow them. And, honestly, some peoples’ “About” pages are the greatest things ever.

So I thought I would share some favorites.

The Happy Lifeaholic: First of all, great name. And her bio is relatable, funny, and filled with awesome little images and doodles and cartoons. I especially enjoy the fact that she writes it at a point in her life where exercise is big, so she says she’ll probably be posting about it a lot and stick with it, but then comes back and updates it saying, “who am I kidding? Didn’t happen..the only exercise I do is walking to my fridge a million times a day, pulling the door open, and staring in.” Same, girl.

Taisie: Taisie’s “About” page is really unique, which I, obviously, love! It’s just a list of 50 facts about her, but they’re all so random and wonderful. These facts range from “I love fire” to “I am not convinced that I can staple” to “I can’t ride a unicycle” (who can, really?). I sincerely suggest reading the whole list.

*Also: I was 18 when I got my first kiss too! Practically. 2 months away. So I’m with you, girl.

Sick and Sick of It: Possibly the best “About Me” I’ve ever seen. It starts: Once upon a time, there was a princess, and her name was Ella. Intrigued, right? Well it gets better with every sentence and I don’t want to spoil the fun, so just go read it! Ugh, it’s great. She’s great. Her whole blog is great. Go look.

College with Ashley: Here’s one that’s short and sweet and sums up college in one sentence.

Love and Sparkles: I just agree with a lot that she has to say and find her “About” page to be really refreshing. She believes in people and chasing dreams and documenting life, and I just love that. I also think her opening quote is perfect: “Life is a collection of stories, and these are mine.”

There’s so many more amazing blogs I could feature in this post, but this is getting to be pretty long so I’ll just end it here. And maybe I’ll make another one of these in the future–after I’ve done some more exploring and found more gems.

Or maybe I should update my own bio. I’m feeling inspired.

Sincerely,

Sammy

PS. Lately I’ve been OBSESSED with The Vamps. Their entire album is fantastic, but my favorites are definitely Risk it All and Girls on TV.

RAMBLINGS AS I TRY TO FIGURE OUT WHAT I’M DOING WITH MY LIFE

Dear Reader,

The other day I found myself deeply analyzing every aspect of my life. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and it certainly wasn’t a good idea for me to continue, but I couldn’t stop. I sat there in class, re-living every small detail of my short, pathetic life, and I came to the conclusion that it is unusually, unspeakably boring.

For one of my English classes, we have to write essays Personal essays, lyric essays, digital essays. We’re learning all the different ways you can tell a story. But here’s the thing: I don’t have very many stories to tell.

My first was about the state championship game, but it was all about how I was an irrelevant, forgettable member to this amazing team. It was about how confused and undeserving I felt through it all and how I, to this day, don’t know how to feel. In fact, it wasn’t much of a story at all. I played soccer, I was just decent enough to continue with varsity, and they won the championships. I wrote about my inner thoughts and feelings and analyzed how it all made me feel and how my life will be spent trying to accomplish more than this feat that I wasn’t really a part of.

My second story was about the root of my insecurity issues. Once again, not a story. Just some comments that have been made over the years, the changing of my mindset and the way I see my reflection in the mirror, and how I act nowadays.

But these aren’t stories. 

I don’t have a story.

And that’s kind of why I started this blog–at least that’s what I said. In my first post, I said that I don’t have a story, but I want one. I am a protagonist in a novel that is going nowhere. But just once I want something spectacular to happen.

But those things don’t just happen. At least not to people like me.

So the other day I was looking up personal essay ideas because for my third essay in my English class, I have no idea what to write about. And that’s when these realizations hit me.

The experience of overcoming a fear. The proudest moment of your life. Your most fortunate day. A visitor that you can’t forget. A special morning. A kiss that meant a lot.

I read these ideas and nothing came to mind. Nothing. Sure, I’ve had good days and proud moments, but nothing story-telling worthy.

And there were other ideas that should’ve made me feel fortunate that they didn’t prompt a memory. The hardest news you had to deliver. The ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. When you needed a hug. A disastrous date. The breakup of a friendship.

Nothing has happened to me.

I’m eighteen years old and I haven’t felt true pain or true happiness. I haven’t done anything worth writing about and I haven’t learned anything worth sharing. I’ve never been head-over-heels in love and I’ve never been heartbroken. I’ve never been addicted and I’ve never overcame an evil. I’ve never needed to be strong and I’ve never broken down because I’m weak.

I don’t want a broken home or a problem trusting people because I’ve been hurt. I don’t want to hate my simple life, but I can’t help be bored with it all. I don’t wish for all the sorrow in the world unless it can help me feel truly happy–a feeling that I don’t think I’ve yet felt.

So I don’t know where I’m going with this. Just like I don’t know where I’m going in life, I guess. I’m not going to go smoke crack or drop out of school or stir up drama in my life.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I just know I have to be careful.

Because right now I’m searching for something more out of life. After all, it’s supposed to be this indescribable stream of events that make you who you are and teach you more than you could ever learn in a classroom.

But for me it’s entirely underwhelming.

And I know that if I look to make it more, I’m going to encounter plenty of sorrow searching for joy.

I just think in the end, it could be worth it.

Sincerely,

Sammy

PS. The best cover of Hey Ya (by Outkast) that I’ve ever seen/heard. Enjoy.