The little thumbnail titled “Blog” on my favorites bar has been a sore subject for me for a while now. I’ve thought about removing it countless times, hoping that its absence would make me feel less guilty for not making the time to write.

Although I was pretty bad at sticking to the bi-weekly schedule I originally planned to adhere to, I use to write frequently. Although I penned a number of entries that I was too embarrassed or nervous to post, I was still writing. I love my blog and the fact that it has been a great outlet for me to vent and share my experiences for the past three years... but the reality is that its just not as fun for me to write about happy things as it is necessary for me to write when I'm sad.

I finally clicked the little orange button this morning and realized, sadly, that the last blog I posted was over a year and a half ago. So much has happened and changed in that time that I can’t imagine capturing it in one post, never-the-less one that is short enough to keep anyone’s attention – but for the sake of trying, here we go:

I’ve fallen in love and am still very happily with that person. I have a new job and have found a reinvigorated passion and motivation for work and my industry. I have been living on my own and realized that although some of my best memories were living in a sorority house with 40 girls, my times as a roommate are officially in the past. I’ve read a lot of fantastic books and also some pretty awful ones. I’ve made some great new friends and lost touch with some I thought I never would. I’ve watched friends become engaged, get married and have babies… and I’ve also been on the other end of the spectrum with the loss of another grandparent.

All in all, this past year and a half has been pretty great. There have no doubt been a fair share of bumps and low points, but in the end, everything I’ve experienced has led me to where I am right now – and if those trails were a necessary part of the journey, I have no complaints.

My hope is now that I have made a public declaration of my intention to not be such a crappy blogger that I will actually make the time to upkeep my much neglected page. So – for anyone who is actually reading this – thank you and I hope to see you again soon.

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you are wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art. Write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.
– Neil Gaiman

It's no secret that 2012 was a difficult year for me. As a result, a lot of what I experienced weaved itself into my writing, and eventually, this blog. Last January while reading through some of my older posts, I realized I didn't give enough credit to the positive things that happened to me and instead seemed to dwell on the negative. Because of this, I decided to write about the "sweets" I experienced to balance out the posts I wrote as a result of some pretty awful "sucks" that came my way. So, in the spirit of consistency (and the fact that I have terrible writers block) I’ve decided to make a second installment of “Sucks and Sweets of the Year.”

I’m happy to report that looking back over my entries from 2013, they were for the most part pretty positive (and witty and awesome and you should read them). I’d like to think this is a testament to how amazing last year was and truly hope that I'm able to reflect back on 2014 in a similar fashion. 

I had so many great experiences this past year that I'd love to share, but if I were to write about all of them this post would never end. Because of this, I've decided to let my blog speak on my behalf. The following things meant enough to me in the past twelve months that I decided to write about them and shamelessly share my stories with whoever is bored enough to read my site:

Reading. Friendship. Turning 25.
Love. Work. John Mayer. Traveling.
Being single. Harry Potter. Writing.
My dog. Death. Family.
Starbucks. Music. Happiness.

While these words don't even begin to capture what an adventure 2013 was, they do reflect on some of the things I am passionate about and experiences that changed me in one way or another. Thank you to all of the amazing people who are a part of my stories and here's to hoping that next January I'll have just as many positive memories to look back on as I did today.

“I love the person I've become, because I fought to become her”

To this day, I can distinctly remember the ‘best year of my life’ conversation my colleagues and I had at my old job in Chicago. Being 23 and fresh out of college, I could not fathom any point in life possibly topping the four years I had just experienced. I remember politely smiling and replying, “really? Twenty five?” when one of the girls, then in her 30s, said that was hands-down her best year to date.

Replaying that conversation in my mind now is a little upsetting. I was 23 and had my whole life in front of me, yet I dismissed the thought that the most enjoyable years may actually be ahead of me, not behind. I thought I had said goodbye to the best years of my life… waving farewell to them from the shore as they sailed away from the ‘real world’ I was now a part of, whether I liked it or not.

That assumption led me to be complacent with what was presented to me instead of questioning if it was what I really wanted. Although this may sound selfish, I was by no means ungrateful for my situation… I was blessed with a lot of things many people take for granted and was thankful for them every single day. I had a job, a wonderful support system of family and friends, a loving boyfriend and high hopes for the life I had planned for myself.

I was living a happy life – it just wasn’t the right happy for me.

Thinking that I had already made all of the friendships I needed, experienced all of the love I wanted and lived in all of the cities I hoped to was a false assumption. One that I didn’t realize was wrong until I started questioning it. Until I started to fight for all of the “more” that I wanted in my life.

Celebrating living on my own
for the first time ever

More friendships.

More love. 

More cities. 

More experiences.

More spontaneity.

Looking ahead of my life now I see a blank canvas ready to be painted. It is laid out wide in front of me to fill as I wish – each inch waiting to be covered with bright colors and beautiful images inspired by experiences that have yet to come.

I’ve stumbled countless times and have certainly taken my fair share of spills, but I always get back up. I know that even though the road might be rocky, I am finally on the right path. And I’m going to keep going down this path to whatever is waiting for me at the end, welcoming any encounters I make along the way with open arms.

“The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.”
― Dr. Seuss

The number of “20 things to embrace in your 20s” articles that came across my newsfeed in the past month was a little ridiculous. Obviously, the first time I saw one I thought “Thank God, someone finally made a manual to navigate my life!” but then I read one seven and realized that the individuals writing these articles:

1. Could not have possibly passed English 1

2. Have some serious problems and are trying to justify their actions by blogging about them

For example: This post suggests that you should go one week without showering. Why? Because you can find comfort in the fact that “without showers, everyone is the same.” Number 4 in the same article suggests to “Have at least one night where you cry ridiculously and listen to Adele while drinking wine and chain smoking.”

It is articles like this that make me wish the First Amendment did not apply to certain individuals. 

So, for those of you looking for a good Friday read, and have had enough of the aforementioned GIF-filled posts, I am happy to steer you to some awesome blogs that I frequent. (Aside from mine, of course… which you should continue to read.)

Happy reading!

AG

Ring Finger Tan Line: This blog is absolutely amazing. After following a link posted by a friend on Facebook over a year ago, I am still a loyal reader. Laura is a hilarious writer who shares her post-divorce journey with her readers through stories of baking, writing and drinking. RFTL is currently sitting on my favorites toolbar and I check it on a daily basis for new articles to dive into. You probably should too.

Witty + Pretty: As a woman who loves to write, I think it’s awesome how uncensored and sarcastic Ashley, the author of Witty + Pretty, is. Although I have not reached the comfort level of discussing some of the topics she addresses (and am not sure I ever will), reading her blog will no doubt put you in a good mood and give you a large dose of women empowerment.

Betches Love This: Consider this a fair warning that this site is not for the faint of heart or anyone lacking a sense of humor. Although this website is crude, uncensored and wildly controversial, I cant. get. enough. of it. One of my favorite things about this blog is the Head Pro and his articles. He is raunchy, foul-mouthed, unnecessarily presumptuous, but unwaveringly honest. This site is a refreshing break from the censored articles posted by PC writers on topics 20-somethings are interested in reading about.

One thing I do support is dressing up for Halloween.
Multiple times in multiple costumes.
No matter how old you are.

“Wanderlust: A very strong and irresistible impulse or desire to travel the world"

  

The Eiffel Tower in Paris taken
on a sunset cruise along La Siene

I have always said I was born in the wrong era. As addicted as I am to my iPhone, and truly appreciate the conveniences of living in the modern world, I’ve always thought I belonged in a simpler time.

Growing up, all of my favorite movies were in medieval and colonial eras. The women wore beautiful floor length dresses and attended elaborate balls, and the men spoke in sexy British accents and constantly fought to protect their family and/or country's honor. 

As romantic as this all sounds, I doubt I would have enjoyed people getting beheaded in the town square on a weekly basis and being constantly suffocated by a corset.

Anyway - those details are beside the point.

    

Beach in Nervie, Italy 

After my trip to Europe this summer I got to thinking... maybe it wasn't the wrong era that I was born in, but the wrong location.

Now, before you get all up in arms and call me a want-to-be-expat, understand that I love America and can’t imagine being a citizen of any other country, no matter how cultured or beautiful it may be. This, however, does not change the fact that I fell in love when I went to Europe and a part of my heart stayed when I returned home. 

The views and landscapes are breathtaking.

The various cultures are rich in diversity and full of history.

The people are friendly and truly appreciate when you attempt to adapt to their culture and speak in their language.

The food really is as good as they say. In fact - I’ll go out on a limb and say it may even be better.

The cities are full of life and bursting at the seams with exciting new experiences and sites to discover.

Maybe the reason we are born in a specific country or city is so that once we do travel, we appreciate everything we see and do while abroad more than if we had lived there all of our lives ...and if this is the case, I am completely content. I doubt I could be more appreciative or thankful for my experience than I already am.

Regardless of the situation (even when lugging a 50 lb. suitcase over cobblestone streets through Brussels... hungover... in the rain) the happiness I felt upon landing in Europe did not fade in the two exhausting weeks that followed. Traveling with my favorite people through ten wildly different cities in four beautiful countries over 15 days resulted in the most amazing trip I have been on in my life... and I can't wait to go back. 

                            

                                   Flower market in
                                Paris, France

Gorgeous coastline along
Nervie, Italy

“There is no death, daughter. People die only when we forget them,' 
my mother explained shortly before she left me. 
'If you can remember me, I will be with you always.”

― Isabel Allende, Eva Luna

The sadness comes in waves. Usually the waves are fairly infrequent, but when they do hit, they pack more of a punch than a steady tide continually washing in and out of the shore would.  

Losing someone you have known your whole entire life is difficult to explain. Although those that survive the deceased should be happy their loved ones are now out of pain and in a better place, it is hard not to feel like a small piece of you was buried along with them.

For me, it’s the small things that remind me of my grandparents’ absence in my life…

The Sunday afternoon phone calls I received every single week that no longer come.

My new habit of lighting a candle every weekend at Mass.

The fact that after losing my Grandfather I now light two – the new addition always right next to the one I've been lighting for my Grandmother for the past year.

Every time I put on and take off the golden locket that frequently hangs around my neck.

Whenever I open the locket and see parts of love notes my grandfather wrote to my grandmother while they were dating.

Whenever I pick my nails or bite my lip because a little voice in my head reminds me that both are “terrible and unattractive habits.”

Their messages still sit in my voicemail box and my Pop’s cell phone is still on my speed dial list (both of which you would find terribly impressive if you knew my grandparents and their hesitance toward modern technology).  

Although every time one of these things happen I am reminded of the loss my family has experienced, I am also reminded that these all stem from memories I had the chance to experience with them, and that is something I am thankful for.

Even though it was hard to accept that we would be losing my Pop just one year after my Grandma, we knew deep down that every day he spent with us was one more day he was away from her – and if you knew them, that was no small sacrifice.

How are you supposed to know what to say to someone you love when you know for a fact it is the last time you will ever speak to them?

I didn't. None of us did.

So instead of saying all of the thoughts that were swirling around in my head and making my chest tight with grief, I told him I loved him. And then I hummed the lullaby my grandmother use to sing to all of us grandchildren when we were younger.

Waiting with the rest of my family after saying our final goodbyes was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. It was almost like the minute we walked out of his room and stepped out into the hallway we were accepting the fact that my grandfather was going to die.

After we all assembled in different positions around the big double doors leading to the ICU, the tears began to fall. But then shortly after, our tears were replaced with laughter.

“You know what?” one of us said, “I bet Poppie has it coming to him when he gets to heaven’s gates. You know Grandma is probably standing there next to Peter, hands on her hips, asking him why he made her wait so damn long!”

It was in that moment – seated on the cold, white linoleum tile floor of the hospital – that the healing began. Half laughing and half crying, surrounded by my loved ones, I realized I’d gladly accept that a small part of me would be gone forever in exchange for the ability to carry their memory with me wherever I go.

 “I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.”
- Flannery O’Connor

For the past couple of months, this blog has been one of the things that get me through the tough days. I am well aware that it is scarcely read (even though the posts are awesome), but that’s ok – I do it for me. Of course I would love it if I received dozens of gushing comments or thousands of page views, but I would also like to be a billionaire. Reality must set in at some point, but hey, a girl can dream cant she?

Usually when I sit down to write I can tell what the mood of my post will be depending on the music I play. When things were hard for me last year, John Mayer was my immediate go-to artist and it seemed as if his melancholy attitude and bad hair days manifested themselves in my posts. 

Lately, the playlists I put on have been substantially more cheery and upbeat. I think it reflects the fact that I am finally comfortable with writing what is really on my mind. Looking back, the first handful of posts I made spanned over two years and were terribly boring. They talked about what I did and who I saw and how happy I was, etc. etc. 

After I started reading other people’s blogs I realized I didn’t like posts that were all sunshine and rainbows. It was annoying and I usually never got to the bottom of the page. At that point it dawned on me that the people reading my blog probably didn’t like my posts either (it's ok, you are forgiven).

The posts I enjoy reading the most are those that the author doesn’t sensor him or herself. Those that you can tell were written in raw emotion, not deep in thought. I think that we truly enjoy reading stories when we connect with what the character is saying or doing on a personal level. Unfortunately, this rarely happens when authors try their hardest to not say anything too revealing about their personal lives.

For me, the best part about writing has been overcoming feeling embarrassed about sharing my feelings, successes or failures. Sure – I will probably never be able to hold public office, but they have awful hours anyway. 

Hitting the publish button on a post that literally broke my heart every time I read it was extremely difficult. Revealing that I have pretty much failed at every age-appropriate milestone I set for myself and am nowhere near being in a committed relationship was embarrassing. But after the initial shock of willingly sharing my stories with God knows who wore off, it’s actually been quite refreshing.

Gudzak and Mayer call it quits!

So with that being said, I must now offer my apologies to dear Mr. Mayer: John, you are a wonderful singer and I never intended to join ranks with Taylor Swift in publicly denouncing my affection for you – but I’ve moved on to bigger and happier playlists. It's not you, it’s me.