The Early 20s

The stories of a restless girl curiously examining the world through traveling, dating, books and bars.

Deciding What The World is to You

What do I want myself to become? Who do I want to be?

I rub my eyes, stretch my limbs and drag myself into the kitchen. I’m tired, not ready to start the day. Maybe it’ll be easier in a few hours, I glance down at my legs, sweatpants, I used to never wear them. I’d rather be naked, than wear these lazy unflattering bottoms. 

I turn on my laptop, like usual, I miss reading the paper, everything is so fast these days, I guess I have room for improvement.

Somehow something strikes me, it’s all about going the extra mile, making yourself feel and act the way you want to be.

I change mindset, I pull of the sweats, turn on the shower and decide that today, I will look like I want to achieve something. And I will not fall.

Shelter

It can’t be healthy?

I find myself always planning my escape. From somewhere. Places, more so than people I guess, have that effect on me. I feel so confined, strangled. 

And the only comforting thought lingering in the back of my mind, is that I can always leave. And so I did.

Mornings

What I love about waking up is the feeling of a fresh start. It’s like every day we are given a chance to start over, better ourselves, and make positive changes. No matter what has happened to us, we choose what we make of it. And that matters.

Everyday is whatever you make it.

Best Friends & Strangers

I don’t know if people understand. Connecting with a fresh face, a complete stranger,  is something amazing. There’s no history, judgement or clutter in the way, you can just say anything, and it doesn’t matter. It’s the most honest a human relation can be, you can never go back. It gives me the constant never ending thirst to talk to strangers, it’s so refreshing and it makes me feel so safe.

My friends think I’m brave for traveling in this world alone, moving to places I’ve never seen. But I don’t. They are. Every day they walk around in a sea of people that are familiar, lovers from the past, friends, acquaintances and familiar faces. Nothing scares me more than that. 

It makes me feel safe that no one can judge me, and I am only what they see of me, not what others have said of me.

DR Congo's Lubanga found guilty by ICC - Africa - Al Jazeera English

The interesting part: their focus area: Africa. Why not the Middle East?

Pretty obvious, I think. They can’t prosecute the super powers (U.S…Israel) involved in the wars and conflicts there, the U.S, Russia etc haven’t even recognized the ICC, and believe me, they won’t anytime soon.

The U.S would never give the ICC power to try any of their war criminals, never mind political leaders who authorize illegal wars… which there are plenty of. Example: The soldier the media has been covering that killed 16 Afghan civilians.

datebynumbers:

The Chardon, Ohio school shooting that occurred this week is one that hurts me deeply - Chardon is a town when I spent a good deal of my youth attending football games, bonfires, and festivals.  Proximity chills any scenario and my heart is breaking for home. Yesterday, Wife and I tried to make some sense of it all, to understand how someone who shared a similar childhood could see it so differently. 

Me: at least the gunman is alive so they can talk to him/her… on that “him/her” note, could you imagine a school shooting being organized by a girl?

Wife: it was a guy, and no, never.  I don’t think a girl would ever do that.  Is that something I should feminist-punish myself for?  

Is it?  Have you ever heard of a school shooting and pictured a girl?  This video tackles some of the pressures that young men are facing.  I spend a lot of time harping on about girls being forced into a box of submission, being unequal, and we are, but we do have one notable advantage: we are allowed to feel.  

Men are pressured by society to be tough, to be rugged, to never cry.  I’ve spent my whole life trying to be tough.  I was desperate to emulate my brother and my dad, I spent my youth going to car shows, listening to NWA, shooting guns, shoveling manure, talking back, studying graffiti, whatever I could do to prove to someone, anyone, that I was “tough.”  It was a claim to fame in high school that I never cried.  I felt cool because of it, so I can only imagine how guys felt when they did indeed cry.  If it was embarrassing for me, it must have been horrifying for them.

I’ve since learned to cry.  I’ve learned to put my heart on the line.  I’ve learned to get really, really hurt.  But I’m still tough, and I still go to great lengths to prove it.  I can walk home alone, I can beat off my attacker, I can check-in to surgery by myself, I can do it.  But just for a second, I’m going to be grateful I don’t have to.  I’m going to be grateful that I have the option to be tough, not the mandate.   

My prayers to the community of Chardon.  

You want a job, a vacation, heath insurance, validation, a back rub, a scalp massage at the place where you get your haircut, people who are jealous of you, an ex who won’t stop texting you when they’re drunk, Twitter followers, happiness maybe sorta, someone to buy you lunch at a fancy restaurant, a mentor who can tell you what the hell to do with your life, a reliable internet connection, a reliable human connection, a gift card to the grocery store, dinner parties with friends where everyone will pretend to have their crap together for just one night, a nice flirty text message to wake up to every morning for the rest of your life, for everyone to like you even if you don’t like anyone, and one of those nights that doesn’t end till 9 AM and reminds you what it feels like to be young and alive. Oh, and $$$. That’s all.

—Ryan O’Connell (What 20-Somethings Want)

(Source: eastatlanta, via soul-surfer)

The Spotted Cat.

The Spotted Cat.