old man.

You know, there are few people in this world, in this life, that really believe in you, and, I mean really believe in you. The ones that know more about what you're capable of made of more than you know yourself. 

Today I found out what it feels like when they're not there anymore. It's like it all gets a little darker all of the sudden and you realize the torch has been passed on to you to light it up yourself. 

I was just talking about writing. I've had this feeling that it'll come when it's good and ready and I'm not going to force it it rush it. Part of that was because the last conversation I had with Mr. Hilburn he told me he knew it would take me some time. I feared disappointing him and I felt the lump in my throat as I approached him at that football game. To really face him and it. And, just like always, he didn't scold me for the choices I made, but knew that it was all a part of the story. To know he still believed even after all of his pushing and molding and not being able to fully see it materialize. I'm sorry he never did. I don't know that he never will though. 

See, Mr. Hilburn was a writer and a story teller. He never ever stopped writing. I would believe you if you told me he was writing a column at least in his mind as he drew his last breath. He knew the core of things, and most importantly, people. He never seemed to change as he never wrote anything on a computer, always by hand and went to the same restaurant at the same time in the same town. You'd see him driving around Ruston in his red convertible twirling and chewing on the top of his felt tip pen. But, he changed you. If you let him. He never hid the truth and you never wanted to hide it from him. 

So, now the torch has been passed and it's time to pick up the felt tip pen. Who knew it would take this long? He did. 

maybe.

I had a conversation last night about growing up (more or less), not doing what you thought you would be (and being ok with it) and bubbles/safety nets (and what life is like without them). 

It's always great to be on the same page with someone about these things. You don't feel so alone in it or wrong or like a liar. 

I was asked (like I have been many times), why I don't really write much anymore and what makes me want to write and I gave the most honest answer I probably ever have, but one of his insights I don't want to be true. 

He said, "It sounds like being happy isn't good for your writing." 

So, I'm going to make it not true. 

Most days lately I find myself better than I have ever been. I don't know how to be ok with myself because I've spent more of my life not being ok with myself. Sure there are many things I continue to struggle with, but most of those could be fixed when I make the decision to do so. There are a few things I wish would find their way in to my life, but I've gotten better at trusting they will come, and when they do, they'll be better than they ever have been, too. 

Somehow it's gotten uncomfortable to be comfortable and content. Someone told me years ago that being comfortable was giving up and it pissed me off so badly. There are parts of that that were true and there are parts of me that still challenge that notion and make me want to prove it's not true, too. 

I absolutely could challenge myself to get out of my bubble more. Put myself out there more. Take a few more risks. Ask more of the questions I want the answers to. But, maybe I'm just not ready for it to burst yet? I haven't been in this new ok-being-me-I-have-control-over-everything bubble very long, I kinda wouldn't mind soaking it up a little longer and actually getting used to it. 

The point is, I am living the life I want to today. How I want to. And, there are things I want more or just some of, but I know I can get them. 

I want to be more adventurous, powerful, exciting, inspiring, vulnerable, loving and courageous. I want this year to challenge me in new and different ways. I want to fill the missing gaps. I want to complete the circles. Have all the burners going at once. I want all of it. I want all the things. 

Maybe I want someone to burst the bubble for me? Maybe I need to get better at asking for the things I want? 

But, maybe, I just need to be ok with being happy a little while longer first?

And, you know what? Maybe some people are scared of being single? Maybe some people are scared of living and/or being alone? Maybe some people are scared of doing some things they always said they never would? Maybe they're scared of figuring out what's really wrong? You know? 

Maybe I'm not. 

anthems for a 27-year-old girl.

This has been a year of anniversaries. 

I am nostalgic for everything. I look for signs in everything. I overthink everything. 

But, those are all kind of good things right now. 

Boss's Day was a few days ago and when I got to work, I remembered that day a year earlier. I was offered a new job and tossed and turned for days over the decision I made. It was the toughest and most rewarding transition I have ever made. To think back to what I walked into and what I have built in a year is truly astounding. I learned more about myself in more ways and faster than I can ever remember and was able to put to rest a lot of doubts I had about myself. Is this the career I thought I would have? Absolutely never. Do I love my job? Sure do. I don't think most people really understand what I do or the work that goes in to it, and I only bother to explain it to the people who care to hear about it and that's just fine. What a difference a year makes. 

On Friday, I will be seeing David Sedaris. Literally a year later as well. On a more personal level, that trip that I really didn't have time for reminded me who I really am. From the company I kept. To the conversation over drinks. To just the "to hell with it all" attitude I had to have to get in the car and leave all of the pretty big responsibilities I had behind to do something for myself. I had a meeting to be at the next morning with my big, big boss and I drove two hours, hung over and showed up and had an amazing meeting. Another lesson I needed to re-learn. I can do both. And, I'm better for it.  

The year over all has been littered with 10 year anniversaries, most of the milestones have been connected to music (also mostly Ben Gibbard music) and the memories attached to those songs are so visceral and important to me, it has been amazing to connect to a 17 year old Jess as a 27 year old one. 

That girl, 10 years ago, was fearless. And, I had no idea at the time. She fell in love for the first time and let go for the first time without a single fear of falling. With multi-colored hair, a passion for writing and an obsession with music, everything was possible to her. She started believing in herself and her dreams. 

 She made a lot of new friends who in the last year have gotten married to the same people they would soon fall in love with, others had their first babies and a few really started making their dreams come true. 

That Jess let go of a lot of her insecurities. Wore dresses or skirts every day. Got in a car accident and was surprised to see who the first people were who showed up at the hospital. They would be some of the most important people in her life. Three of them are no longer here, one of which will soon have an anniversary of the day I said goodbye to her, others served an amazing purpose and faded out on their own path eventually. 

The 17-year-old Jess made a lot of big decisions and lived with no regrets (way before Tim Riggins reminded her to live that way) and, whether she would admit it or not, she was also really proud of herself. 

The 27-year-old Jess revisited those Ben Gibbard songs in her car and in person (you're welcome 17-year-old Jess). Lost 40 pounds, just like the old one. Allowed herself to have crushes. Got over a lot of her fears and insecurities. Took care of herself and made decisions for herself. Stopped feeling bad that things that are happening for everyone else haven't happened for her yet, because when they do they'll be worth the wait. She made some new friends and better ones with old ones. Let Tim Riggins remind her to have no regrets, Coach Taylor teach her how to be a leader and Tami how to never give up on people. She checked off a lot of things that never seemed to get checked off. Made plans for the future she doesn't want to flake out on. Tore herself a part and put herself back together. Took comfort in signs that made her feel like she was doing exactly what she needed to be doing. 

The 27-year-old Jess started believing in herself again, and whether she'll admit it or not, is actually really proud of herself. 

humble pie.

I don't know what it is about my roots soaking up a fresh coat of blonde, but I always seem to take moment to reflect and prepare for a fresh start. (Re: my college column here: http://www.latech.edu/techtalk/archives/11_9_06/current/blonde.php)

It could also be the fall beers and candles and attempting to wear cardigans at the first sign of relief in the air, but damn, I feel really good about life right now. 

See, I've been in a pretty large funk the past few months. Typical battles with some of the same ol' demons. I fight them just enough to call it, but not kill them. But, I'm getting there. 

The thing is, I've got some pretty incredible people in my life who see things in me I won't allow myself to see. Who present such a wonderful reflection. Who comfort me, reassure me and keep me honest. 

I love my job. It's not the job I thought I would be doing, but it turns out I'm pretty good at it and have been able to surround myself with amazing people there as well. It's not every day you have a job that you are literally just expected to make someone else's day a little better and find yourself laughing hysterically on the sidelines. To really lead a team who believes in you and wants it just as bad as you do is humbling. 

I am so lucky to be with my family and have had the experiences I've had with them after moving back to the very place I always said I never would. There hasn't been a day that has been filled with regret on that decision since. 

The thing is, there will always be something missing. I think it's just a part of who I am. I want it all and I want the best, and even though I'm not a patient person, I'll wait for it. I never thought my life would look the way it does now, so there's really no point in guessing on what's to come, but I do know it will be wonderful and full and exactly what I always wanted and never knew existed. 

Happy. Hopeful. Humble. 

listen.

I don't know if it's just like a thing where if you believe in something enough it becomes true. Like a horoscope or a lie. But, the past couple of years I've been noticing little patterns pop up that I begin to investigate and they've become little treasures I tuck away as a reminder that I'm on the right path or that everything happens for a reason or it's time to let go or move on. Little nudges. Little signs. That I just tuck away in my pocket and breathe. 

The number 7.

The perfect song coming on at the perfect time. 

A collection of quarters when I hardly ever use cash. 

Ernest Hemingway. 

Dreams. 

Themes.

Conversations. 

I believe in all of them. I don't know for sure what they always mean, some of them are easier to decipher than others, but, I think the point is, I'm listening, I'm watching, I'm noticing, and I thank you.

I went on a trip last weekend that was definitely a four day party, but speckled in between the shots and the dance parties there were moments like sitting on the patio alone and the wind carrying over a man and his guitar singing my favorite Bruce Springsteen song "I'm on Fire" just days after getting a sweatshirt with that album cover on it and listening to the song on repeat on my record player. Like telling a friend about Ernest Hemingway popping up all over my life as she handed a book about him for me to borrow for the beach and going to dinner only to find a huge quote of his hanging on the wall. Or that late night (early morning?) conversation on the balcony with an old, old friend and realizing she still sees you for exactly who you are even after all these years and effortlessly saying the things you've been needing to hear. "You're going to be ok and it's going to be amazing" and "I'm so proud of you for living your life for yourself."

It's just this overwhelming sense of relief when these moments happen. It's a confirmation. A reassurance. A wake up call. 

Never answers. So many questions. But, the point is, I'm listening and I'm open. 

Oh, she's open.

tenses.

June has been this big conflictual ball of the past and the present. 

Constant connections to the past in the present and admiration of the time that has gone on between and memory lanes and ghosts and all of that. 

Only, I didn't get too swept up in the current of it all. I embraced it and watched it unfold. Some of it I knew was coming. When I put it on the calendar months ago a little fear struck my heart of the emotional flood that was just bound to happen and others just kind of unexpectedly made there way here. None of them impacted me nearly to the extent I thought they would or could. 

All of it made me so grateful for the past. I'll cherish it so much for so much longer, but I don't cling to its security anymore. 

One of the more momentous occasions was when I went to see the Postal Service. It definitely ranks high on the top 5 emotional attachment albums. So many sweet experiences were soundtracked with those songs. I rarely let myself delve into that experience and didn't quite know where it would take me in a live setting. The day before I spent the evening looking for remnants of my 17-year-old self in boxes and journals and pictures, some pieces showed up in the flesh. I remembered things so fondly and the dread of the next evening grew a little bigger. 

When we found our seats, the lights went down minutes later and seconds after that the first notes hit me. I closed my eyes and let go. By the end of that song, I was overwhelmed with comfort with not only such a warm fuzzy feeling of such a sweet moment so long ago, but that I'm so much better now. 

Happenstance and chance encounters occurred in the most unlikely of contexts and I took them all in stride. I didn't lock up too much in a "what does it all mean?" whirlwind I just let it all mean something good. 

But, the best part is that I'm finally at a place, after all of these years, where I can say the present is just so much better than the past. With all its uncertainty and shaky knees and, even, feeling a little bit left in the dust from time to time, it's so incredible to look back and be grateful that all of those wonderful things happened with some pretty amazing people to end up here, right now, in this moment. And, also, maybe I should worry a little less about the future. 

Because I'm so much better now than I was then. 

the best.

I'm not a parent. I don't know when that title will be added to my life and, yeah, sometimes "when" is replaced with "if."

But, it's Father's Day and I know for a fact I'll never be one of those. As everyone (including me) has taken to the social networks to parade for theirs and try to prove why theirs is the best with a cute picture from childhood, I've kind of decided that I just might be proof of that on, not only my father's behalf, but my parents'. 

I think most of us had (and still do) moments (and some rightfully so) where we swore we would never be like them. We, for sure, would do a better job despite of them, maybe in spite of them, too. How dare they punish us for our poor decisions or tell us things we might not have wanted to hear and, more so, make mistakes? We'll show them all when we're so much better and perfect. 

I think one of the hardest lessons I've had to swallow as I was coming of age is that my parents, the ones who raised me by laying most of the foundations that ended up shaping who I am, didn't and don't really know what they're doing any more than I do. Just as they were starting to see me develop into an adult, I was starting to see the scales tip a little bit as I realized they don't have all the answers because, hey, none of us do. It's a scary thing to realize your entire life there will always be new territories to navigate and some of them you'll continue to be blindfolded. 

I don't know what kind of parent I'll be. But, I know there will undoubtedly be moments for my possible future children that they swear they'll never be like me and I'll let them think it, but I do know they'll see my reflection in the mirror sooner or later just as I do with my parents. The further I go on my path, there's no denying I am very much my parents' child, the good and the bad. 

I can't say there haven't been times they've let me down, but I know there have been some where I've disappointed them, too. I can say there have been more times I've been proud of them, and I hope that's the same tally they have for me, too. 

What I know is that I am so fucking lucky to have parents that I can love unconditionally and be loved the same way, if not more. I want to be the proof they need to know they did the best they could. The best they knew how to. That they know my successes belong to them, too, and how thankful I am that they don't turn their backs when I make mistakes and fail. 

When I was a little girl, I had this fear of growing up. I literally wouldnt fall asleep at night for fear of the next day being closer to the one they wouldn't be there for. Why I knew and understood to such an intense level that a day would come when they would become unreachable I'll never understand, but that feeling has never gone away and grows as I very clearly see time running out. It's the reason I forgive easily and move on quickly with the people who matter the most to me. That fear sits at the very center of my life every day regardless of when I choose to feel it or ignore it, it's always been there. But, as I allow myself to see them in me more clearly the older I get, I'm trying to take comfort in the fact that no matter what happens when they can't be here for it, they will be because they made me and raised me and I am becoming equal parts of them and it wasn't my choice which parts took root. 

I don't know what qualifies a parent to be the "best" and I don't know if that's a prize the "best" parent would ever accept, but I do know when they give their speech they wouldn't say it was because their achievements were in spite of or despite their own parents, but because of them with all of their love, challenges, mistakes, failures, success, pride, joy, fear and sorrow. 

So, I guess I do kind of know what kind of parent I'll be when/if the times comes, so I'll just go ahead and say I'm sorry for the mistakes I'm going to make, but I couldn't wait to know what true love and overwhelming pride felt like.