Brainstorm

A photo posted by A M A N D A 🌵 (@mandalyn93) on Mar 2, 2015 at 7:41am PST

Earlier today, I was sitting in my office with my feet kicked up, cup of coffee in hand, staring out the window behind my desk. The sound of cars speeding in front of me mixed with "Bitter Memory" by Bahamas as it played behind me.

If anyone would have asked what I was doing, the answer would have been "brainstorming."

Half true; half false.

I was devoting some of my attention to brainstorming the March newsletter (which I probably should have finished earlier this week, but my bosses had other things for me to do so c'est la vie) but I was definitely also thinking about other things. Life things.

My brain was a literal storm.

Thoughts of fulfillment rumbled and dumped rain upon plains of emptiness. Waves of confidence crashed upon cliffs of uncertainty.

I don't know what I'm doing with my life right now, and it's driving me up the wall. I miss learning things in school. I miss spending all day outdoors and in the sun working at camp. I miss interacting with and helping students at the Writing Center. I'm longing for fulfillment and enjoyment of things I've experienced in the past because I'm not finding fulfillment right now.

Have I ever found fulfillment in a job? Maybe.

When I worked at camp, I worked upwards of 60 hours a week and the people I worked with were amazing and the kids I got to hang out with were inspiring. At the writing center, I helped non-traditional students, freshmen and refugees understand the nuances of the English language. Every time I saw the face of a student as he or she understood the difference between a contraction and a plural for the first time, I lit up and knew I changed a little bit of that student's life.

Even when I was an unpaid intern at Roosevelt Row CDC, I felt like I had purpose. People engaged with our Facebook page. They went crazy for adaptive reuse and walkability, which are also two things I go crazy for. I also got to spend a lot of my required working hours taking photos for the Monday Mural campaign and for First and Third Fridays. I wasn't making money, but I was only working 25 hours a week and totally had a great opportunity to collaborate with my supervisor, learn new marketing skills, and interact with the community.

And I really miss all of that.

 My fulfillment doesn't come from money. It doesn't come from job security. It isn't buried in my 401k, or the promise of a comfortable retirement where I'll be able to travel.

Fulfillment, to me, is the ability to engage others and encourage others to care about something important while investing in those around me. Fulfillment is being able to enjoy life now rather than waiting to enjoy it when I'm older.

I don't see a lot of this fulfillment in my life right now, and I'm trying to figure out what to do about that.

Wendell

I wish I had asked to take his photo, but here's a photo of the light rail I shot a while ago instead.

I moved to uptown Phoenix on Wednesday, and Friday night I was reminded why I love the area so much.

My friend walked me to the Central and Van Buren light rail station after attending a show at Valley Bar. Right after I hugged her goodbye, I saw him.

He was sitting on the bench, propping his bicycle up with one hand as I stood nearby.

"Good evening!" he said eagerly and energetically, the way many homeless people do in the hopes of being acknowledged and thus validated.

"Hello! How are you?" I replied.

I like talking to strangers and nobody likes being ignored.

He said something along the lines of "I'm doing well," and quickly began telling me about his exciting day dumpster diving.

He was of average height, average build, was missing his front teeth and looked relatively cohesive. I try not to judge people but I also keep my safety in mind when engaging with someone on the light rail.

I sat next to him on the bench, enamored by the story he began telling.

Dumpster diving is his passion, he said. He continued talking about the amazing things he had found in the past, from laptops to a clean title to a car that was disposed of after the owner died with no family to receive her possessions.

I was skeptical of it all, and even more so when he said he found an original Ted DeGrazia in a dumpster that very day.

"Really? That's so awesome!" I chirped in, smiling probably a little bit too much to hide my skepticism.

"Yeah," he responded, "Do you want to see it?"

He proceeded to reach for a bag tied to the handlebars of his bicycle, and I shrugged and said "Sure."

Thoughts raced through my head. Could it be real? Is he pulling my leg? Maybe he found a print, but not an original.

"I've been thinking about donating it. I usually do that when I find art in dumpsters," he continued.

Usually donate? Does this happen that often?

He unzipped the outer bag and removed a small, black plastic bag with a canvas in it.

Okay. So he had a painting. Maybe not a DeGrazia, but definitely a painting.

His rough, darkened fingers gingerly untied the bag and removed an 8 by 10 canvas painting of a boy holding flowers. It was a darn good painting, too.

I stared--eyes wide, jaw dropped--as he flipped the painting over to reveal an authentic DeGrazia signature and note.

So it was real. So I was amazed.

"Hey, what's your name?" I asked.

"Wendell," he said.

We shook hands as the light rail came to the station and I spent the ensuing ride listening as he imparted 54 years of wisdom upon me. We ended our time together when he disembarked at the Thomas and Central station and agreed to hopefully run into each other another time.

Texas and moving time.

You may (or may not) have noticed I didn't post a #tuesdayblogday last week.

It's because Tuesday was my Monday and the week was CRAY CRAY. I spent the preceding weekend in Texas with my best friend, Hannah.

We made it 💕 #HJtakesTX

A photo posted by 🌵 A M A N D A 🌵 (@mandalyn93) on Jan 9, 2016 at 9:41am PST

Together we embarked on a 14-16 hour drive that left her in Texas and left me bawling my eyes out at the airport.

She accepted a job with Geico which meant she needed to move from Arizona to Texas, the land of the oil fields and smelly flatlands.

I was (obviously) super bummed to be leaving her in a different state. She's my oldest and closest friend, and also the fifth or sixth of my friends to move out of state in the past two years. Arizona is starting to feel pretty lonely.

But, on the flip side of the loneliness, it was really cool to help her move and be a part of that life event. She even let me decorate her wall <3

Helping Hannah move made me even more excited to move. I got to think about how I'll decorate my room and get an idea of how little stuff I actually need in my new apartment (hello, minimal chic?) It was definitely a bummer leaving her in Texas (even the TSA agent sympathized with me while I was bawling at the security checkpoint) but I got a sweet, simple taste of moving.

Dear 2015: A Letter

Dear 2015,

Goodbye.

You were neither the best nor the worst year on the books. You started on incredibly positive notes, with a minute hangover after a brilliant triple date party with some of the coolest people I knew but don't talk to anymore. The people who kicked off 2015 with me are in infinitely different places as well, and I can't help but wonder how their years are ending in Boston/Flagstaff/married/etc.

January saw the continuation of a healthy, positive relationship that I still intensely miss at times, as well as the beginning stages of an amazing school project on immigration and border issues.

February ushered in a season of stress, when time continued to pass and the countdown to my Nicaragua trip continued getting smaller. Feb, you also saw the somewhat blindsiding end of that relationship.

But who has time to grieve a relationship when you have to orchestrate discussions with at least ten people 3,000 miles away, most of whom only speak Spanish. March saw the mid-mark of my final semester of university, as well as a massive journalism trip out of the country. 

The remaining time before graduation is a blur. 2015, what did you do to me?! Everything between Nicaragua and May 4th bleeds together in a pool of stress and words. I had to write about 15,000 words between January and the beginning of May, and those words just swam in my head and left me sitting in coffee shops for too long.

But May 4th--I remember that day. Mitch, my closest and oldest Cronkite friend, took me to Disneyland to celebrate graduation and my completion of college. I'm so glad that through the years, miles and differences, Mitch is in my life and around to support me as much as he does. 2015, I hope he's around as much in 2016 as he has been in the past.

A photo posted by 🌵 A M A N D A 🌵 (@mandalyn93) on May 12, 2015 at 6:28pm PDT

Graduation happened. That still doesn't feel real--I remember walking across the stage, shaking hands, accepting the diploma. It happened so fast. All of May happened fast--I graduated on a Tuesday, partied on a Saturday, and left for camp on a Sunday.

Ah, dear dear camp. 2015! You brought me to learn so much while working at UCYC for the summer. I honed my leadership skills, my communication abilities. I built strong friendships, I spent time outside every single day. I learned what second mile service means, and how to clean a cabin until it is absolutely spotless. I spent three months building friendships, biceps and some siiiiiick tan lines, not to mention a relationship that was all good until it wasn't good anymore.

The learning continued after I fell off that cliff while rappelling. I learned how to accept myself for who I am even when I hated me. I hated how I felt when I was stuck on the couch for six weeks as my broken knee healed, but now I have a great respect for the strength and ability of my body. I learned that it's okay to have times where you're completely not productive and are contributing nothing to society, and that I (continuously) need to stop comparing my accomplishments to the accomplishments of others.

2015, it was really hard to sit on the couch watching Doctor Who for weeks on end while I saw my classmates who graduated at the same time as me get jobs in other cities and states. I wanted to be them, in their shoes, as opposed to in my shoes with one chicken leg and one normal leg, struggling to shower every day.

But I did learn a lot from it. And after my knee healed, I did get hired into a "big girl job"--which is where I stand now. Working 40 hours a week never sounded so sweet, but I'm thankful for the setup I have and the experience I'm gaining.

Pause. Back to that camp relationship... Maybe it wasn't so shitty, but dang. I could have done without that heartbreak. Although, as in all hard things, I learned a lot. I learned the importance in seriously dating someone who has the same maturity as yourself. I learned that the way you communicate with your significant other is important, and certain breakdowns in communication can ruin relationships. I learned a lot, and for that, I am thankful. But as my camp boss said, breakups aren't bad. They just mean you're one step closer to finding someone you'll spend forever with.

Now, here I am, 2015. I'm very much still processing this past year, with the good relationships and the bad, the lost and the found. The concrete and the abstract. I'm not entirely sure what I want to do with my future, and that scares me a little--but I do know I will figure it out, and that I don't have to figure it out immediately.

So, goodbye 2015. You didn't suck, but I hope 2016 is better.

La la la love,
Amanda