twenty-four

So I intended to post this on my 24th birthday (5 days ago), but my birthday celebrations took over.  Then there were early Christmas celebrations. And throughout this week I've been working extra hours to get ready for vacation.  All the while, this post has been sitting here, waiting patiently. I figured it would be rude to make it wait any longer. 

I have made a list.  Twenty-four things to do before I turn twenty-five.  I shamelessly stole the idea from many other blogs, but it fits where I am right now. 

After spending a while getting used to the fact that I could do pretty much anything with my evenings and weekends (since I don't, you know, have four papers to be writing), I've been accumulating things I'd like to do with that time.  

The problem is that I am awful at making decisions, so the more ideas I had, the more difficult it was to actually choose one to focus on.  To solve this problem, I didn't choose one.   I chose 24(ish). To be completed within the next year.  I've spent the last year or so getting used to my new stage of life, and I want to spend the next year trying to make it more meaningful and intentional.

Some of the things on here can be a weekend project. Other things will hopefully become new habits.  Some of them will take a lot of effort over the entire year to complete. 

Here is the list as it stands:

You will notice that there are not actually 24 things on this list.  Don't worry, I didn't forget them.  There is a reason.

I first saw this model at A Beautiful Mess, and part of the spirit of her list was to make the goals challenging enough that some of them may not be finished within the year.  As I got toward the end of this list, I thought they all seemed fairly within reach, and I wasn't coming up with any ideas that felt scary enough.  So these two spots remain open until I have an idea that seems almost impossible or unusually risky.  Stay tuned.

Along with updating about my progress, I'm going to do a series of posts explaining some of the goals and why they're on my list. A lot of these are things I've been wanting to do for a while, and others came to me as I was writing the list, but are no less worthy of tackling.  Look for the first post in that series soon!

grey ships pass into the west

I've been holding on to these pictures for a few days, because I didn't really have a grasp on what I wanted to say with them. They feel somehow wistful to me, and I wasn't sure what to do with that. I just knew I wanted to do it justice.

I love this scarf. I thrifted it last week, and I had to wear it immediately. It has a great western vibe (without going too far into cowgirl) that I find myself drawn to increasingly when I'm shopping for clothes.

Why is that? What is so appealing about that particular aesthetic right now? It definitely has visual intrigue - just look at the pattern on this scarf. You notice something new every time.

Or maybe it's the colors - the rich browns and oranges and blues and greens (in general, not just on the scarf). Sometimes it feels more natural to dress in colors that come straight from the earth, like the clothes are really an extension of creation, instead of something measured and produced by machines.

Ultimately, though, I think it's about all of the ideas that have become intrinsic to "The West" over time. Despite the fact that it has been mostly settled for a while now, there's still this sense of freedom and adventure and purpose that accompanies our collective mental image of "going out west." In fact, it reminds me of a lot of the concepts that are woven into the practice of pilgrimage - something that I spent a lot of time with last year as I applied for a fellowship to study and practice it.

This year, though, I'm not feeling like a pilgrim. On the contrary, I'm feeling pretty stagnant. I've settled into a daily routine - get up, have some coffee, check facebook, go to work, come home for dinner, go to the gym, watch a TV show, go to bed, with a few variations. I may go to small group instead of the gym, or write a blog post or bake biscotti instead of watching TV.

You would think that moving to a new city would be like exploring a new frontier, but it has mostly magnified my restlessness. I guess I’m searching for my pilgrimage here, for that “west” that I can strive toward - something adventurous and purposeful. And I don’t like the thought of losing that to routine. 

I don’t have any specific thoughts on this, really, just identifying the general longing to find the journey God has set out for me, even if I’m traveling it from my apartment.

Dressing the part must be the first step

jeans/target,shirt/gap,jacket&scarf/thrifted,boots/nine west

This has become one of those things that I talked about in my first post, something that I want to fold up tightly and hide in my pocket to keep just for me.  It feels fragile, like a single wrong word will shatter the truth of it, and maybe letting people read it will do the same thing.  But as fun as it is to write about baking pop-tarts and what I'm wearing (and I will continue to do so), these are the kinds of posts that stretch me, that hold the most worth for me, and that share who I am more than the lighter topics.

So despite the fact that I may have a minor panic attack letting this piece of me out, I'm going to let it go anyway.  What about you? Do you have a "west" that you're traveling towards right now?

Let's chat

I think a lot of people start blogs because they are bursting with words or ideas or advice to share. 

I am . . . not bursting.

I like to hold on to the things I create, to be able to prune them and let them sit for a while before I show them to anyone.  Usually, this means I don't show them to anyone.  As evidence, there are a handful of introductory blog posts like this one saved in Word documents on my computer and as drafts on this blog.  I’m never convinced that they are perfect enough to be read with a critical eye other than my own. 

But as I’ve been reading other blogs lately, and thinking about what I want to do with my own, I’ve come to the realization that blogging is not about critique – or perfection.

Blogging, done well, done in the best possible way, is a conversation.  And while you might take a moment to consider your words before you speak (I hope), you don’t get six months to prepare to talk to someone.  Conversation is imprecise and reactive.  It’s unpredictable.  It’s awkward.

I don’t know what this particular conversation is going to be about or who’s going to take part in it, but if I don’t actually start it, then the answers will be nothing and nobody.  So sans readers, sans title, and sans topic, I invite anyone who has stumbled across this to sit down, grab a cup of coffee, and join in the conversation. 

We'll see where it takes us.

(FYI, this post stayed on my computer for about a week until I posted it. I guess I still have some work to do.)