Day 1: Leaves

"Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

It finally feels like fall here in Colorado, and I couldn't be more excited. For me, fall brings with it a feeling of hibernation and coziness. I love being outside but during the summer there's this palpable sense of "I need to be outside and swim/hike/bike/camp/tan or I am WASTING THIS SUMMER". In the fall, focus shifts inwards and the pressure to be outside seems to lift as the temperatures lower. Oddly enough, my productivity at work also goes up about 200%.

So. What's the first thing you think of when you hear "fall"? If you said "pumpkin spice latte", partial credit. The answer for me is "changing leaves". It's fitting that for day 1, that's exactly what I'm taking a picture of. But unfortunately there are only about 5 leaves starting to change color in my neighborhood; I almost resorted to spray painting them yellow or doing some really aggressive photoshop edits before I stumbled upon the below.

Fall: crisp and cool. A time of solace and self-reflection. Fleeting and delicate, yet vibrant and impactful. I've found that watching the leaves turn bright in a blaze of glory allows me to pause and reflect on the months behind me and the months ahead. And I'm excited for the months ahead. I stare a bit longer at the trees, hoping to carry the memory of their brilliant colors into the restful and silent winter. I'm grateful that time feels a bit slower as the world tucks in with the cooler temperatures. I hope you can feel that same reprieve from the hustle and savor this season.


Thanks for tuning in, friends.

I'm baaaack: Photo Challenge #3

Well folks, it's happening. I'm dusting off my DSLR and testing out another photo challenge. Found one from #theidearoom from October 2016 that looks like a good one! I shall start tomorrow and we'll see how this goes.

Words.

Hi, friends. You there? I know that I haven't posted since November of last year. But I promise that doesn't mean that I haven't tried.

I have a thousand drafts of unfinished entries. OK, maybe more like a hundred, but still. Unfinished thoughts, unspoken words...sometimes starting to communicate myself and then deciding that there aren't enough words, or aren't the right words. Or that it's just too much to share with others, that I am too much to share with others.

I love words. I think about words a lot, and it's important for me to find the ones that convey the meaning I want. Exhibit A: I have been known to take 30-45 minutes to write a work email just so that I can be precise and include all necessary details without being wordy. I love details, and I love writing a solid email. I'm also that person that will help you figure out the word you're looking for, even if it takes a little while. It's the little things I guess.

But I think I get too caught up in words sometimes.

Outside of work I just love writing in general, because it's like a direct line to my heart. Thoughts that I can't quite speak can flow easily out of my pen often before my mind can process them. This isn't a problem with journaling and I can write whatever I want, however I want. But in blogging I work to shape these thoughts to be more palatable to others. Unfortunately I often catch myself tweaking my words so much that they don't even feel like mine anymore. I have to balance staying genuine with communicating what I want to, and I struggle with producing genuinely meaningful entries consistently. Mainly I struggle with being vulnerable through my writing when I know other people are reading.

Can you relate? 

It's like singing a song to people that I wrote myself...it feels honest and strong when it's inside of me but suddenly raw, small and hesitant when it's out in the open, like I decided to put my nerves on the outside of my body. And once it's out there I can't really take it back. That thought alone is both powerful and exhilarating, and at other times fear- and doubt-inducing.

And sometimes, I get tired of words. Sometimes I just want my blog post to be a long sigh, or a few deep breaths, or a scream of frustration into the nighttime. And that's ok, too.

But in conclusion, I'm working on writing more, and striving less for my version of perfection. And I appreciate you reading along.

Give Light Giveaway: [5 Beautiful Things]

Hi friends,

I wanted to share this awesome idea that my friend Katie had at www.52beautifulthings.com. It's called the "Give Light Giveaway", where everyone shares 5 things that have been beautiful for them. Any 5 things. Once you submit, you are entered into a giveaway for a chance to win a basket of Colorado goodies. Check it out and share some light!

You can read my submission here.

Love to you guys.

The Women's Locker Room

I'd like to take a moment and talk about the womens' locker room at the gym. I find it fascinating, and not just because there are always the token older ladies who don't give a damn and just walk around everywhere completely naked (can I please be you when I'm older?).

I went to a class at 6am before work this morning which is out of my norm. And I say "out of my norm" to emphasize the fact that I am not normally this ambitious; I'm much more of an evening workout person when I go. But it's interesting to see the difference between the pre-work and the post-work locker room buzz.

There is something unique that happens in the morning in that locker room: bodies of all shapes and sizes and so many morning routines come together. Fresh-out-of-the-shower faces and wet hair seem to be a portrait of vulnerability; you see the face behind the face that everyone sees on a day to day basis. We all spend so much time getting ready in the mornings, putting ourselves together for another day out in the world. What does that entail exactly? Well, it's different for everyone.

As I stand at a long mirror blowdrying my hair to "Katie standards" (7 steps below actually dry but 3 above "I fell into a fountain"), I'm next to a woman meticulously curling her perfectly dried hair. In the mirror across the way, another girl does spiral curls with a straightener. Which I will someday teach myself how to do from Pinterest. Other girls just wrap their wet hair up in a bun (you go, girl).

Then comes the makeup. My makeup includes my staples from Target, nothing fancy. I don't really notice anyone else's makeup but what I do notice are the blank slates that everyone presents to the mirror. I can feel the vulnerability myself as I perform a routine typically performed alone in front of my own bathroom mirror. Not insecure, but aware of all of the different approaches we take to the day. It almost feels like we're all bonded together by that experience before taking on the day; we've all seen each other sans makeup as strangers, wrapped in a towel with hair undone. We ourselves are undone, but in a comfortable way. A liberating way.

And I really appreciate that about the women's locker room.

People, Places, Things.

Sometimes it is just crazy to me what a wealth of memory we have. Memories tied to places, places tied to people and you're left riding on waves of nostalgia...sometimes exhilarated, sometimes nauseated, and maybe somewhere in between. Where did the time go? It's a reminder of the depth of life, and especially the depth of your own.

This past Saturday, I went shopping at the mall with my close friend Andrea. We walked by Dillard's and were reminded of a time during freshman year of college when we went to go try on prom dresses and take pictures for the heck of it. As we remembered back on this and stared at each other with a gleam in our eyes, we decided, "why not?". We each picked out our favorite and least favorite dresses and decided to have some fun with it again.

We somehow managed to pick out the same dressing room, and jokingly took a few pictures. Strangely enough it wasn't until we were back at our cars and looking over our old pictures from 8 years ago that I got a tangible reminder of where I had been compared to where I am now. And all of the feelings that came along with that.

In hindsight, I was really insecure and had no self-love back then. Everything I was, everything I had could be changed and in my mind needed to be changed if life was going to get to where I wanted it to be. There was a finish line, and ultimate physical beauty (and everything that came with that benefit) was at the end of it. To make it there seemed like an impossible but necessary feat.

Now, I know myself, and I can truly say that I love myself. Instead of focusing on a finish line, I'd rather focus on the present moment. I have a relationship with my body that is nurturing instead of hateful, and I have a confidence in what I do and who I am. Is that 100% of the time? No. Life isn't perfect but I wouldn't trade this grounded feeling for any sort of re-do of the past.

To say that I am grateful overall for where I am now compared to then is an understatement, but I am learning to appreciate the journey more and more. It is those memories that remind us of our immense depth and strength. We are not just that 9-5 drag, or that terrible work meeting. We are superheroes jumping off of the fireplace with blanket capes. We are the awkward middle schoolers writing notes to our crush. We are the brave ones heading off to college or a new job or a new place. We are the "new kids" trying to make friends, who eventually do make friends. Really good ones. We take risks, we excel, we love, we hurt, we breathe, we create. We try on prom dresses at 26 (or maybe that's just me).

It reminds me of a Rumi quote that I love:

Don't forget your depth, friends. Cheers to you, and to this rare day.

The Crockpot Club, pt. 2

Hi friends.

Awhile ago, I wrote a post about The Crockpot Club at work. It's a group that meets weekly and people rotate cooking a crockpot meal for everyone. That part is pretty cool. However, it's invite-only. That part is not so cool.

Well, the day has come...*drumroll*...I received an invite this week.

Honestly, the first thing I did was laugh. It was a combination of how the invite was phrased (very official and contingent upon other members leaving) and thinking about how I used to feel about it. It didn't really seem worth the thought, because I still didn't really have an interest in cooking. I just wanted the invite...2 years ago when I started.

I don't think I'll join, for a combination of reasons. I don't want to foster that exclusive vibe at work, I don't like to cook on command, and I don't want to carry a crockpot on my morning bus ride. Mainly the first reason.

Just wanted to give you all that funny update. Oh, life. :)