I got to thinking about discovery. We discover new things everyday: things about ourselves, things about others, things about the world. The most amazing part of discovery about the world is that we learn what is new, what is possible. This possibility rests in our laps. We must open our minds and our hearts to these vast possibilities. In this, we can discover who we want to be, where we want to be. And this is an amazing, exhilarating way to live. I’ve discovered many things about myself in college, simply from living in a new city. I know what I like about the world, and I know what I don’t like. I’ve learned this from keeping an open mind and discovering what the world has to offer. I challenge each and every one of you to do the same. Discover the possibilities; follow your heart.

I got to thinking about the ocean. The ocean and its vastness. The ocean and its dream-inducing qualities. The ocean, to me, is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. But even better: the drive on California Highway 1 from San Simeon to Big Sur. The ocean is as blue as a Crayola crayon. The road is windy and quite intimidating, but oh-so-gorgeous. It’s one of the most spectacular sights I’ve ever seen. And sights like that are important for us writers; we create ideas through beauty and vastness. We become immersed in this fantasy-like world that just so happens to be real. Big Sur doesn’t seem real; its loveliness seems too good to be true. But it’s real. And I highly recommend anyone taking that drive. You’ll be holding on for dear life; but it’s definitely worth it.

I got to thinking about travel. I’m feeling a little bit of wanderlust as of late. The semester is ending and I’m taking a much needed, relaxing vacation: a road trip. There’s something inspiring about road trips. You get to take the scenic route. You get to see things you normally don’t see, sometimes things you’ll never see again. That’s magical. There’s so much world for us to see, and we must take advantage of it. I won’t be back online for a few days, but know that my next few posts will be inspiring. I’ll write down every detail of my trip. After all, the best writing comes from what we notice.

I got to thinking about the difference between living and existing. What is this difference? Do we live to exist? Or exist to live? I’ve always found myself pondering this question. I find it to be like this: existing is going to that 9 to 5 job everyday that you don’t enjoy. It may bring in money, but it doesn’t satisfy you, it doesn’t make you want to be better, learn more, or ensure happiness. Living is doing what you love. Maybe this doesn’t produce much money, but at least you can say at the end of the day that you’re doing what you love, that you’re happy, that you’re following your dream. I’ve always found this to be a writer’s existence. We write because it makes us happy, that is really all we can ask for. I feel alive when I write; I can express myself in ways that I never knew were possible. This is my dream. And I will always follow it. So be brave, follow your dream. You won’t regret living.

I got to thinking about flexibility. Not the kind you learn in gymnastics class as a child, but the kind you learn in everyday life when things change, when you have to adapt. I was supposed to see my beloved band, Snow Patrol, in 2006. But timing changed all of that. The liquid bombings in London derailed Snow Patrol’s travel plans, forcing them to cancel their appearance at the concert. I was devastated. This was my band. My exuberant smile turned to a frown the moment I found out Snow Patrol wasn’t coming.

So I had to be flexible; I had to adapt. Let me tell you: that was no easy feat. And I’ve been waiting and waiting for them to come back to the United States. A great person in my life found Snow Patrol’s tour schedule a month ago and discovered they’d be in the United States in May. We immediately bought tickets. All it took was five years of patience. To follow up my previous post, patience granted me my wish. And it was certainly worth the wait. In the words of Gary Lightbody: “Light up, light up. As if you have a choice. Even if you cannot hear my voice. I’ll be right beside you, dear.”

I got to thinking about patience. Why is this world so impatient? Why must we all seek instant gratification? Isn’t anticipation worth the wait for something spectacular? Impatience is all around us. And we accept that. But we shouldn’t. Patience is a virtue for a reason. Patience won’t necessarily get you what you want, but it definitely will ease your mind. I’ve learned that waiting for something is the best option for many reasons. I have a clear mind, and I know that something great out there is waiting for me. If you’re patient, great things will come. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but eventually. And that’s certainly worth the wait.

I got to thinking about distance. There’s this saying I heard recently: “Sometimes you just need to distance yourself from people. If they care, they’ll notice. If they don’t, you know where you stand.” I’m guilty of pulling away from people when they disappoint me. But I’ve come to understand that distance isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes space will give us answers, and solve our dilemmas. We can deal with these dilemmas in an easier fashion if we have time to think it over. But I’ve always discovered that we must give those who keep crawling back into our lives a chance. These are the people who seek our friendship, who want to be forgiven. And these are the people we must forgive. So give yourself distance. See who comes back. It isn’t a mind game. It’s merely figuring out what you want in a friend after a betrayal.

I got to thinking about fear. Everyone is afraid of something. I’m afraid of driving. Not so much being a passenger, but being the person in control of the car itself. That’s a scary thing. But does our fear help us? Make us stronger? Force us to work harder? I know that my fear of driving forces me to be the safest driver possible. I drive as slow as a ninety-year-old woman. But you know what? That works for me. It helps me overcome this fear I have of driving. So do this: whatever it is that you fear, do one thing that makes you feel more comfortable to overcome it. For me, that’s driving safely. It may not be ideal for the person behind me, but at least I feel confident that I’ll get from point A to point B. We’ll all learn to conquer our fears if we do it our way.

I got to thinking about grammar. I’m a writer; we think about these things. It’s interesting to me that some of my peers are still contemplating how to use you’re versus your. Shouldn’t we have learned this in second grade? How can these students get into college without understanding basic grammar principles? I’m outraged by this. This outrage could spark from the mere fact that I believe in grammar, or it may simply be because all grammar really takes is a couple minutes of editing, a couple minutes of thinking over what you just wrote. And why don’t some people do that? They’re lazy. Get over the laziness. Proper grammar should be mandatory. Recognizing this and ranting about this, well, that’s a writer thing.

I got to thinking about popularity. There are those days when we all wish we were “cool.” Those days in high school or college, when the hottest parties are going on and we want an invitation. But what does it mean to be popular? Does is mean selling out? Do we have to change who we are, just to fit in? Popularity is overrated. Always has been; always will be. So why do we seek popularity? I’ve come to learn that popularity is merely about acceptance. We want anyone to think we’re worthy of their group. But you know what? Of course we’re worthy. We don’t need the approval of anyone else to fit in. Make your own group. You don’t want to be friends with people who only accept you after you do something “cool.” Know that popularity comes and goes. But being true to oneself doesn’t ever fade. And that’s what’s ultimately important.