As I prepare for my return to the nest, I have found myself worrying that I will not experience the adventures of those who choose to fly away. However, I have decided that this little bird will not be adventureless. I have decided that, by not paying rent (thanks Mom), I will have the means to explore new places on my own. My sister suggested that I use my newfound train skills to travel far and wide. Because I’ll be lucky enough to have a solid home base (thanks again Mom), it will be much easier to decide to go out and have adventures. I have recently found that I really do enjoy exploring new places on my own. So instead of giving up this new part of myself when I come home, I will do my best to embrace it more fully.
On her most recent archeological dig through the family house, my cousin stumbled across a treasure: my grandma's scrapbook from college. As I flipped through the worn pages covered in her delicate writing, I saw a whole new side of my grandmother. Numerous pictures showed her sprawled across the laps of her friends, smoking pipes and smiling coyly and confidently at the camera. This elegant and striking woman sparked something inside of me. I began to wonder what made these pictures seem so rich with adventure. I came to the conclusion that what drew me to them was the authenticity which they seemed to hold. I have often felt that the type of pictures we take today have a certain superficiality to them. It seems as though people are constantly sharing pictures. I mean, there’s an entire app devoted to communication solely through pictures! I feel as the the casual nature of modern photography has detracted from the deeper meaning behind pictures. Instead of capturing an authentic moment, they are either used to document the every movement of one's cat, or carefully staged to inspire jealousy and admiration in one’s friends. Of course, this is a broad generalization and I know that this is not true for many people, and I’m not saying we should all just stop taking pictures altogether. I guess what I’m trying to say is I want to find a way to recapture the magic of photos. I want to get that same spark as I saw in the pictures of my grandma. As someone who loves being behind (and sometimes in front of) a camera, I desperately long to tell an authentic story with my pictures. I promise that this photography rant has a point. The point is that I have hereby decided that I am going to say yes to life’s adventures, and I am going to try to accurately capture the experiences that come out of these adventures with authentic pictures. Instead of taking pictures for other people, I will take them for myself. I will not succumb to the pressure to produce and share pictures which shows off my glamourous (haha) life. Instead, I will simply explore and document for myself. Because this blog is also purely for my own benefit (I am a selfish blogger) I will reflect on these future adventures right here. All in all, I would like to develop a story that my grandkids will be able to look at and know who I was as a young person. So let the adventures begin.
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Do you ever have those moments of inspiration where you have a realization and you don't really understand why it's so important or what made you think of it, but you know that it's a core part of who you are? I had one of those moments in the birthplace of all inspiration, the shower. I was thinking about my life and trying to identify the things that (among all of the chaos and change) have stayed consistent throughout these 19 years. The answer was obvious: community. Throughout my life I have always had a solid network of people who I can turn to. I realized that I value community above most things. I recently took a survey for extra credit and one of the questions was "how often do you feel totally alone?" In that moment I was able to fully appreciate how lucky I was to be able to check the box labeled "never". I suppose that since this inspiration hit me a week before a certain holiday, this post could be considered a nod to Thanksgiving.
Being homeschooled, many people assume that I lived the first 14 years of my life in total isolation. Obviously homeschooling is just another word for house arrest *sarcasm*. I remember a particularly strange conversation I had with one girl who had never met a homeschooler before. When I told her that I was one of those exotic homeschooled creatures, she looked at me with shock and asked in an quietly awed voice, "Really? What did you do?" I explained to her that not all homeschoolers have been banished from society because of their violent ways, some of us choose to do so because we want to take control over our own education. Anyhow, my point is that I can say from experience that being homeschooled does not limit your chances of having a community. I would argue that being homeschooled is the foundation that my community values rest on. I grew up with at least 7 mothers, 20 siblings and a few fathers thrown into the mix. The days that most children spent playing with their classmates, I spent camping with kids of all ages and parents who all took equal responsibility for my well being. When I left for college I had 3 mother figures texting me every night to make sure everything was okay and that I knew I was loved. I knew exactly what mother to turn to for specific needs. If I needed comfort and a hot chocolate with vanilla ice cream and a candy cane stirrer, there was one mom. If I needed a dose of reality and an honest opinion, there was another. My boyfriend and I have spent many hours talking about the importance of having a community. In his case, he is able to drive a block away and see an aunt, an uncle, or a grandparent. Because the members of my family are traitors (cough cough Erin, Patrick, and Katie Young), I do not have this option. I was talking to my sister recently about how we dream of a time when our nomadic siblings will settle down near each other so that we too can have this community. However in the mean time, my honorary family has done a splendid job of providing me with a community to rely on. To bring this (slightly scattered) post full circle, I will conclude by saying that as Thanksgiving approaches, I've been taking time to feel grateful for my particular blessings. I'm grateful for all those people who have helped to raise me, to show me what it means to be genuine, and who have stood beside me throughout the chaotic adventure of life. So... thank you :) I'm a big planner. I'm much better at planning than actually following through with things. I have stacks of notebooks devoted to lists. Even when I was little I was a list maker. I would make detailed lists about what I was going to do that day all the way down to brushing my teeth and putting on my shoes. The truth is, all this planning has worn me out. Now is the time to let go and let life happen. I've found that over-planning is the culprit of many disappointments in my life. I plan every detail so meticulously that when things don't work out exactly as I expected, I sometimes feel cheated. Generally I think of myself as a very "go with the flow" person, but I'm coming to see that part of me is obsessed with control over my future. The problem is that no one has total control over what is going to happen in their lives. Lately I've found myself faced with choices and choosing not to make any choice at all because if I don't choose any of them, then at least I know exactly how the situation will turn out. I never used to feel that way. I was pretty good at diving in and not looking back. But as the decisions I have to make get more serious, I become ever more cautious.
Lately I've been thinking a lot about the future. Making the decision to come back home and go to school locally took a lot of thinking. That choice was a pretty big step considering my recently developed phobia of making decisions, and I have to say, it felt pretty good. As soon as I realized that I was unhappy and that living at home was an option, a weight was lifted from my heart. But at the same time, it was undoubtably scary. All my life I had been planning to go away, to live in a dorm, to make great friends, and to be independent. I watched my siblings leave home as teenagers and come back as adults. I thought that going away to college was what made you grow up. A friend of mine recently reminded me that time is what makes you grow up, not where you live... Even though it seems obvious, that advice really stuck with me. I mean, it's true huh? It's the unexpected events that make you grow up, those accidents where you have to mature a little bit so that you can handle the situation. Life will happen no matter where you are. Anyway, all this is to say that my goal for this time around is to have fewer expectations. I want to live life and grow up without constantly assessing my situation. I want to be happy when I'm happy and sad when I'm sad. I don't want to continually overanalyze every emotion that crosses my path (because there are a lot). It'll be hard, but luckily I have my whole life to learn how to do it. Here's to new beginnings. So as it turns out, some of you really do enjoy reading my blog and were a bit concerned with the fact that I've been quiet for so long! Either that or y'all know me well enough to realize that if I'm not writing, I'm probably having some kind of mental break down :P Some of my loved ones have politely requested that I continue to work on this 'ol blog. So here I am! The truth is I haven't been writing my blog for a while because I'm going through a very uncertain time. I decided to not subject you to a different life plan outlined every week. If I had been writing the past couple of months by article titles would look something like "Kerry's life plan" "Kerry's new life plan" "Kerry's new life plan #2". Instead, I decided to wait until I had a solid path and then tell y'all about it.
Mills is a wonderful place. My classes are interesting, the people are nice, and the campus is beautiful. But it turns out that it just isn't for me. So next semester this girl will be back in town:) I could tell you all of the pros and cons that led me to this decision. I could make a detailed powerpoint justifying my return. But instead I'm just going to tell you this; I made the choice, and I'm happy about it. I think that the culture of kids choosing to live away for college was so ingrained in my head that I didn't consider the option of staying local. The truth is, I've got to do what's right for me. That seems so simple and so complicated at the same time. Simple because all I have to do is know what I want... But also complicated because I have to know what I want. Maybe I'll have to try a bunch of different things before I figure that out, but I have decided that that is just fine. You know what else I've decided? I hate the phrase "the best years of my life". Why do I hate it? Because how do you know? How do you know better years aren't coming? Before I left to go to Mills, the people told me that college would be the best years of my life. They talked about the life long friends that they made and the crazy adventures they went on. I felt so much pressure to have a good time that I spent all my time worrying about whether or not I was having a good time! I mean, to say that 4 years of my life were the best years that I will ever experience in my lifetime seems kind of depressing. What if on my 80th birthday I look up and realize that the past couple of years were way better than those 4 years in my 20s? I hate to think that we limit ourselves to 4 years of happiness. I am determined not to be that way. I hereby promise that I am not going to label any part of my life as best or worst. I have so many years left! There's no telling what will happen. |
AuthorHey, it's Kerry:) I have 2 older sisters and they both started a blogs... so naturally (being the little sister) I joined the bandwagon. So here I am! I hope you enjoy, if not... well go find something else to do. :) Archives
June 2018
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