i think

so i've decided to live. and that's not a shocking new decision. i mean how many times have you, in your realization that you've lamented one or ten months too long, decided to live? how many times have you, after you've overcommited yourself for the twentieth time, decided to live? it's too common a decision and is made by people who usually don't mean it. or by romanticists who idealize adventure, spontaneaity and the ease of life. and especially by those who don't give a damn enough to follow through.

it's actually a terrible way to put it. a description of what i mean to do might be more helpful.

i've decided to read more than self-help, christian lifestyle books. because i don't think these are as helpful as we give them credit for. sometimes i need a story. sometimes the story is more helpful with it's death and depravation and descent into humanity than the former.  it usually is.  i've decided to go out on a limb and make jokes. even if i'm not a riot like mindy kaling.  even if i'm cheesier than colby-jack. even if i know nothing about pop culture or have the wit of a rodent.  i've decided to budget. i looked over my account statements the past three months, my direct deposits, and projected my monthly income/expenses. loans are factored in. as are the upcoming trips to washington (lex) and new york (the feller and friends). as is the hope of an apartment next summer. i've decided to show up and lend a hand when friends are in the middle of moving. did the snooze button sweet talk me this morning? yes. but these people were the ones who showed me that people could actually care. that they wouldn't walk over you. that they would say sorry. that they would pursue friendship. that they could be gracious and honest. i've decided to take afternoons for myself and drink tejava and watch mean girls. i've decided to (possibly) get a third job because i'm twenty-two. i had teacher in high school. he was short, petite and wrinkled. he probably had a great left hook. he was from the east coast and had worked upwards of twenty jobs in his life. he had stories. he is the only reason i enjoyed ap u.s. history. i promise if history books were written in his voice, i would have remembered something. so i'm applying at different places in hopes of accumulating another job instead of doing the most logical, straight-forward thing that any smart graduate would do: get one job that pays well. i want stories, friends. i want deviations and squiggles. ones that are well-planned (oh, you thought i was giving in...), but circles and stops and zig-zags nonetheless. i want a beautiful life. one that is rich with agony and every strain of happiness.  one that is messy. one that is vibrant. and do you know what? do you know the secret to such a life? i think it has something to do with a steady gaze. with not looking to the left or to the right. it has something to do with being responsible for the one thing you have a say in: your life. the only one given to you.