Changing Directions

Do you remember when you listened to a song for like the millionth time and the words finally clicked? I mean it had a catchy beat and you knew all of the words, but then you finally felt it.  And from that moment on you couldn't go back. You could never hear the song without having a moment of thoughtfulness.

And it's never just one song. I have had this profound experience with songs from multiple genres and they have all had a different impact on me, but I'm not going to bore you with the details. The point I'm trying to make is that good music needs to be experienced. 

There are some people who aren't as affected by music. I have friends who don't really listen to music or even know what genres they like, and that's totally okay. Everybody is different.

But I absolutely love music. I love the fact that I can listen to a song 50 times and hear something new every time, whether musically or lyrically. Songs are puzzles just waiting to be taken apart. A song can be just what we need to hear or capture what we are feeling perfectly in words. Music can inspire us to be strong or comfort us in our darkest moments.

I am currently studying journalism at Walla Walla University, and I am constantly asked what I plan to do with my degree when I graduate. I don't want to work at a newspaper and I certainly don't want to be a reporter. I know that this seems quite counter-intuitive, as my major points whole-heartedly in that direction, and I've struggled with this because I do love writing--just not about the news. All I want to do is write about what I'm passionate about.

And then it clicked. I love writing and I love music. Can't I just combine them?

Let me tell you about the glorious field of music journalism. I would get to write album reviews, live concert reviews, and interview artists. I'd discover new artists and genres. I would literally be getting paid to experience music. 

I know this post seems scrambled and I honestly didn't know where I was going when I started writing it (come to think of it, I never know where my writing is going--it has a mind of it's own).

But I've decided that it's time for an announcement. I've decided to go into music journalism and therefore there will be needing to write more in that general direction. So, henceforth this will be a place where I post a lot of music-related writing. I'm hoping to stick to at least a post a week. Hold me to it, guys.

I promise that will still be making general updates about my oh-so-exciting life (catch the sarcasm, kids?), but they will no longer be the focus of this blog. I promise that you'll want to stick around to read though, because I've got a lot in store for Adventures of a Sanguine this year.

Sleep-deprived Thoughts of an Insomniac

This summer I've taken to waking up past noon, because I don't sleep until 3 or 4 am. It's not a choice, I just have problems falling asleep. I can lie in bed for hours, just staring at the clock, watching the time tick by but not feeling tired. There are probably a number of reasons this happens, but I'm not going to analyze that right now.

Last night I fell asleep around midnight, but for some unknown reason my body decided that I was done by 4 am. So I sat in bed and perused the internet.

It is currently 6:27 and I'm sitting on the front porch of my family's lake cabin. As the walls are screens, I can hear everything. Everything and nothing. I am never up early enough to catch the sunrise. Four am to noon do not exist to me in the summer. But this morning as I looked out the window I saw the orange glow lighting up the slightly cloudy sky and I had the desire to listen. To really listen to the world waking up around me.

It is strangely still. Usually up here there is always the faint sound of waves lapping up the shore, but right now all I can hear is the sounds of birds waking up and the tapping of my fingers on my keyboard. There is a breeze barely drifting through the trees and I can hear the few people awake driving to wherever they need to go.

Silence has always been this horrible thing to me, but I'm beginning to understand why people like to get up early and watch the sunrise or just immerse themselves completely in nature. For the first time in months I can hear my thoughts clearly. They're not important thoughts and I'm certainly not discovering some earth-shattering truth, but it's nice to have my mind feel clear.

My mind is usually going a mile a minute and I can't stay focused on one topic for long (ADHD, remember?). I also tend to worry a lot about a lot of stupid little things, but right now I feel calm. I feel whole. And for once, I actually feel happy, happy to just be.

It's not profound, and I don't expect you get much out of it. But I just thought I'd share this moment with you, because it's all about the small things in life.

P.S. You should totally try getting up early and just breathing in the fresh air (unless you live in LA like WayAnne, all they have is smog), it clears the head better than anything.

Out of the Bubble

It's hard to understand things from others' points of view. I know what I think and feel, but I can only guess at what other's are experiencing. It's like we all have a bubble and even though we know that other people have thoughts, it feels like all life revolves around our little bubble, because from our perspective we control what happens.

It has come to my attention that my last post was a bit unfair to Kyle (I'm just gonna say his name because everyone was already thinking it), as I didn't offer his perspective, only what I assumed from his actions in my emotional state. I know that he didn't mean to make me feel "not Adventist enough" or bad for my problems. He's not perfect either and after talking to him about this I realize that I must publicly apologize for lashing out. He has always been a great friend to me and deserves better treatment.

I've always prided myself on my vulnerable writing style. I like my life and experiences to be an open book, so I didn't even think twice about posting the most recent one. But it was not just my life I was posting, it was also Kyle's and not even in a fair light. As a journalism student, one of the most important things I have learned thus far is that as a journalist it is my job to be truthful and factual, and I have failed on that. So I apologize to all of you for giving a one-sided view of the situation.

P.S. I will be posting more regularly on this blog this year, so be sure to keep checking in. I love you guys.

Facing the Truth

There are a few things that I’d like to talk about right now. First and foremost, the band Twenty One Pilots has been rocking my socks off for about a week. They are fantastic. Second, I am now the proud owner of Malcolm, my first car. And third, something happened to me last week that made me sort of question who I am and where I am headed with my life. But you guys need a little bit of a background for this story first.

I’d estimate that 67.4% of all romantic comedies start with a platonic friendship and by the end they realize that they complete each other and ride off into the sunset or whatever. I have seen a lot of rom-coms and I think that’s where this idea got instilled into my head. I’ve always wanted to find a guy that completes me as a best friend, and then maybe fall in love someday. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend the rest of their life with their best friend, right? So it was this subconscious dream that had me fighting this year. Fighting for a chance at love or like or even just a mutual crush.

You see, it was this year that my best guy friend and I finally talked about getting together. This guy made me want to be better person, and we could talk for hours about nothing and it just seemed perfect. But I must admit that he tends to overthink everything. For months it was a seesaw. Back and forth and back and forth he went between “I think it’s a great idea” to “but what if we don’t make it?”. With all of the serious discussion you’d think it was a contract for marriage. 

It frustrated me, because I’m a very impulsive person and I go with my gut feeling. To me, it was a question of, “do you like me?” If yes, great let’s go on a date. If no, we’ll just drop the discussion. But he never gave me a straight answer. I had been waiting on the edge of my seat for a while and I’d thought up great reasons and countered every possible problem that he shot my way. And I’m not gonna lie, it was frustrating. It was like he didn’t like me for me, he just wanted to see if I’d fit into his life perfectly.

So sometime last week (I don’t remember which day), we were Skyping and after about 30 minutes or so of normal talking, he gets really serious and he says we need to talk. He then proceeds to tell me that he’s decided that we shouldn’t try a relationship. Not because he was afraid it could ruin our friendship. Not because he doesn’t like me like that (I still don’t have a straight answer on that). But because I’m not Adventist enough for him.

That’s right, I wasn’t “good” enough for him.

I went through a series of reactions. First, I was sad. I had been rejected. I’m not going to lie, I’d never invested my heart that much into a relationship. So yes, I ate a lot of ice cream and then I cried myself to sleep.

But the next morning I wasn’t sad anymore, No, I was angry. For months I had put my heart on the line while he did logistics or whatever and in the end I didn’t pass inspection. Who was he to tell me that I wasn’t good enough for him? What gave him the right to judge me? I knew that he had his own kind of problems and that he wasn’t the most saintly Adventist either. There are a lot of things that I had told him because I wanted to be completely open to him about who I was and he used them against me. I admit that I really had to hold myself back from writing a scathing email about what I thought about his “decision”.

The third and final stage I hit was acceptance. I was tired—tired of crying and beating myself up for not being good enough. Tired of being angry and being judged. And it was then that I realized I was done. I was sick of fighting for this relationship. But it wasn’t just my relationship I was sick of fighting for. I was sick of trying to keep up appearances. The two lives that I was keeping separate had exhausted me and I realized that I was ready to let go and be honest.

I am not a saint. I have a tattoo in honor of a friend who died far too young. I love loud rock music. I have a bad habit of swearing.I haven’t been to church all summer and I haven’t missed it. I was really depressed this past year and drank and smoked more weed than I’d like to admit. I have made bad choices and I’m done trying to cover them up and be the perfect person.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not proud of who I’ve been. But it’s time to be honest and I’m working on my problems. Not in hopes of ever becoming “good enough” for him (because that ship has sailed), but so that one day I can be proud of the person I am and maybe I’ll find a guy that can take me as I am, worn from the world.

So this is me, coming clean and admitting to who I’ve become. No more secrets and trying to save face, I’m facing my bad habits head on and hoping that you guys can still accept me.