February 28, 2010

Risks: Unfiltered.

Nice to see you again. Follow me, @SydneyOwen. Thanks for being here!

They don’t tell you about this part. They don’t tell you about the part that rips the rug out from under you and the part that makes you question who you were or who you are.

This isn’t what you sign up for.

But this is part of it.

With any great risk there comes great reward. In this case, great risk was putting myself out there for all of it. In this case, the great risk was letting down a wall that was most definitely set in stone and concrete and sheet metal and rebar and any other reinforcing material. The risk this time was revisiting a story from the past. The risk this time was believing in something that hadn’t even had the chance to develop. The risk this time was really being me. And not apologizing. And not worrying about the scary shit.

And if I was given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing.

I write this post without a single photo to document our time together. Not one snapshot to validate that he was actually here and that we actually took a stab at this. I write this post with only the visual and emotional context of this weekend, no physical proof that it actually happened.

But it did.

Life, like love, is a fickle, fickle bitch. You can plan and hope and predict and dream and wish until you’re blue in the face but at the end of the day, it is what it is. It is. Or it isn’t. And there isn’t a single damn thing I can do to change that.

I told my dad in January that this weekend would be life-changing. And it was.

I now have yet ANOTHER dimension to add to what I need. I have another bullet to add to what I have to offer. By all means, by any preset definiton, this should (could and would) be a total fail.

But it’s not.

We may not be redefining “epic” in the context that I THOUGHT we would, but I’d be an idiot to ignore what is happening.

So, I don’t know where things are headed, but I’m okay.

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February 27, 2010

Fail? I think not.

So I didn’t post yesterday. By all rules and regulations of the 28 day blogging challenge, I fail.

But I beg to differ. I’ve been living. And not working. Totally disconnected and spending time exploring a new chapter of my life. So not a fail. In fact, a total success.

Tomorrow I’ll post. And it will be a normal post. But for the sake of talking, I’m not failing at the challenge, in fact, I’m succeeding. So there’s that.

And I leave you with a pic of the biggest burger. EVER. thanks to the counter on diversey.

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February 25, 2010

Settling. And a letter. Kinda.

Read this.

It’s long. I’ll wait.

Are you back? Great. Nice to see you. Are you furious? Or are you in total agreement? Now, how old are you? Are you married? Are you single? Are you dating? Are you male or female? Are all of your friends married? Are you worried that you’ll never find “the one?”

This article is so confusing.

Sorry, but it’s true. I’m all about a healthy compromise, but when it comes to the rest of my LIFE, I want greatness. And I’m not settling. And my idea of greatness changes EVERY SINGLE DAY, so there’s that.

I’m not going to settle for anything less than everything*. And like I said, everything changes on a daily basis. When I first moved to Chicago, “everything” was a loft apartment downtown, a killer career, and probably a dog because I “didn’t have time” for anything else. Let’s be serious – I don’t have time for a dog and now – today – “everything” has shifted its definition. Again. As it always does.

What is “everything” today? Everything is the career yes, but a solid group of friends that I can call on for anything. Everything is having someone that I can call, be it a best friend, a boyfriend, a husband (someday), WHATEVER, who is my “person”. Someone who will be there through the thick and thin, someone who I don’t ever hesitate to pick up the phone to contact in the event of an emergency, thrilling news, or just when I need someone to calm me down.

That’s what I want. And I don’t really care what form it comes in. And I have it now. And titles don’t matter right now. Call it what you will. But I have my “person” and that makes me happy. I feel like I’m in elementary school when I think about what it would be defined as.

Technically, if you’ve ever seen Sex in the City, you know that Carrie needs her “person” and her “person” is a woman. Which is fine. And I have a “person” in that capacity. I also have my “person” who could potentially be the greatest thing to ever walk into my life. We’ll see how that develops, but for now, I’m totally loving where its going, and for the first time, no rushing. I’m not freaking out wondering why there aren’t definitions yet, because we don’t need definitions. We’re redefining things every day.

According to the article linked above, me saying all this, me holding out, my demanding “greatness” instead of settling, is because I’m young and naive and nobody actually has a “person” – we all just have to settle.

Sorry, but no.

Which this all kinda ties into the whole poem thing that Doniree and Katie wrote about today. It’s called the invitation. And I think you can read it differently depending on what is going on in your life. My take? Today? It’s a letter to my “person”. So there.

Some good food for thought, to make up for the garbage I made you read at the beginning of this post:

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

The Invitation

By Oriah Mountain Dreamer from the book The Invitation

(Earlier this week, Alex posted a beautiful story about her grandmother, and included a poem from a book called The Invitation. I found it because I was seeking out a topic to write about yesterday and Doniree was like “OOH OOOH THIS THIS THIS” and then we decided to manhandle the poem a little bit. Except I don’t really want to manhandle it. Because, really, it’s fabulous.)

So, are you settling? Did you settle? Is there anything wrong with settling? What is the difference between settling and compromising?

And what the hell is up with labels anyway?

*AUTHOR’S NOTE: Mad props to Sugar Land for that line of Settlin’.

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February 24, 2010

Anticipation: Unfiltered.

Anticipation. For me, it’s kind of like the whole “curiosity killed the cat” type of thing. When I have something to look forward to, I desperately want time to fly by and hurry up and for the moment to get here. Then, the moment comes, it’s awesome, and before I know it, I’m begging time to slow down or to rewind.

It’s kind of like when you’re reading a book with several different story lines and there is one that is awesome and one that kinda sucks. You just want to skip ahead to the good parts, the parts that are about the storyline that you’re dying to finish, while the crap storyline falls to the wayside. I used to skip entire chapters of books because I just wanted to read about what happened to one specific character – I didn’t care about how the rest of the story was developing.

Anticipation makes me crazy nervous and crazy excited. It’s fun. And, as I’m getting older, I’m realizing that there is a lot to be said for the present. For this moment. I can hope and dream and plan and wish, but at the end of the day, what is supposed to happen, will. I can make decisions that will swing my life one way or another, be prepared for a lot of situations and be conscious of my surroundings – but when it comes right down to it, I’m learning to appreciate what is happening RIGHT NOW. Because if I spend too much of my time with my head in the clouds, I may miss out on some fantastic stuff that is happening down here, on solid ground.

How do you slow yourself down? How do you focus and enjoy the moment?

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February 23, 2010

Being fearless: Unfiltered.

Fearless. By any normal definition: without fear. Unafraid. According to urbandictionary.com: Strong willed. Heart of gold. Beautiful inside and out. Able to push through the storms of a shattered heart, broken spirit and tattered body emerging twice as graceful and independent than before.

That’s exactly what Chris was.

One year ago today, I got word that my dear childhood friend, Chris, was in a tragic snowboarding accident, in the hospital, on life support and had passed away.

He was fearless.

Chris was fearless from the moment we met in elementary school. Simple fearlessness – he wore UMBRO’s in the snow. He wore soccer shorts no matter the temperature. Every. Single. Day. He was my sister’s guardian on the bus and as we got older, he taught her the difference between compliments and pickup lines. He was the class clown – never afraid to put himself out there for the world to laugh with.

He was fearless.

Chris did the worm across the stage at our high school graduation. We were surprised, yes, but not really. That was typical Chris fashion. Do what you want, when you want to do it, and not worry about who may or may not be judging. But he wasn’t reckless. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.

He was fearless.

“Dear Father,

This flag was flown over the headquarters of the Multi-National Corps-Iraq in honor of you and Rockhurst University. I deployed as a civilian in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom and the Global War on Terrorism. It was a great experience, and I will remember it dearly.

I realize that this would not have been possible without the education and core values I developed as a student of Rockhurst. I thank you for your leadership and for being a great role model to myself and the rest of the Rockhurst community.

Sincerely,
Chris Quante ‘07″

Chris sent back a flag to his alma mater, Rockhurst University, after he returned from a tour in Iraq.

He was fearless.

I realize, today, a year later, that I’ve tried to embrace a lot of what Chris stood for. He passed away shortly before I left for SXSW last year. I think a lot of my fearlessness in Austin came from losing Chris. A lot of it can be chalked up to timing, good luck, being prepared – but when it comes right down to it, I think I may have had a special someone watching over me, telling me it was okay to go grab Aaron for an interview in the middle of a party.

I think maybe, his fearlessness was passed on to me when I decided to pack up everything in my car and move to Chicago. On the hope that I would get hired out of my internship.

I know his fearlessness is passed on to me every time I do something that is outside of my comfort zone. And every time I tell someone I love them – because you never know when you won’t have the opportunity to say that again.

I got the reminder on my phone this morning at midnight that today was the one year anniversary. I was half asleep, battling food poisoning and ultimately annoyed that my calendar alert went off. When I rolled over to see the alert – I paused. I thought about everything that made Chris who he was, and everything that I wish more people would aspire to be.

Chris was fearless. I hope I can continue to channel that as I make my way through this life, because I know I sure as shit don’t want to come down to my final days with regrets, with any what-ifs, with any semblance of not pursuing something that may have been a little bit scary.

So here’s to Chris. To going after what you want, and not turning around to see who thinks you’re crazy. To having confidence in those iffy decisions, because, after all, fearing life isn’t going to get you anywhere.

Keep on keepin' on up there.

Who is fearless in your life? What does being fearless mean to you?

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