What are you doing with your life?

It's a fair question.

I've basically fallen off the face of the earth - the blog earth, at least. I am involved in the real world full-force, kicking ass (or getting my ass kicked, depending on the day) and taking names. I miss my little blog though - and I still read all of yours religiously!

I never wanted my blog to be a day-by-day chronicle of my life - I love reading blogs like that, but I just didn't want to write one myself. I always wanted it to be a blog filled with my deep thoughts and musings, a blog that made people think or question or wonder themselves.

But I've discovered that life isn't always like that - you can't always have the big, deep things. But the day-to-day stuff? That happens every. Single. Day.

So now, welcome to my blog - a blog that might have the big stuff, but will be filled with the little stuff too. Because, as cheesy as it sounds, the little stuff makes up the big stuff, and it's just as - if not more - important.

So what have I been up to these days? A lot.

I returned from Spain and went straight to work as a front-desk receptionist at and office on campus. I worked full-time all summer, absolutely loving it. It was my first summer on my own (I stayed in my house up at school alone), and while sometimes I got lonely, I absolutely loved it.

My summer was also spent helping my sister get ready for her wedding - I was the maid of honor, which means I got to do fun things like plan her bachelorette party. We went to Portland and had dinner and caught the drag show (it was amazing, and we loved every minute of it). The bride-t0-be wore white and all the girls in attendance wore black, so we were an easy group to spot wherever we went:

My lovely sister and I before heading out for the night.

I also planned and hosted a bridal shower for my sister...it was boring, as I find most bridal showers to be, but I was pleased with my decor and the goodies I made!

A homemade crepe paper flower ball alongside my homemade treats - coconut cupcakes, lemon meltaways, and shortbread cookies with blueberries.

Finally, on September 17 my sister got married. It was a lovely wedding with a fantastic reception. Everything went off without a hitch and we all had such a fantastic time.

My sister and I on our way to the reception - better pictures to come soon!

My now (but not then)-boyfriend and I on the way to the reception. He was the best man in the wedding.

Soon after the wedding, classes started up and we're now in week four at school. This means it's midterms season and that I am crazy busy with 20 hours of work as a receptionist, 10 hours a week at the athletic department, and 16 credit hours of school. Add all my studying on top of that and it's no wonder that I only somewhat manage to maintain a social life, and it's also no wonder that that semblance of a social life only occurs on the weekends.

One of these weekends included a visit to Bend to see my boyfriend, who ended up being in the Emergency Room when we (my sister and brother-in-law, his brother, and I) arrived. He ended up being okay, but that wasn't how we envisioned our Friday night going! But a third date at the ER worked out quite nicely for us.

After he was finally told he could leave after six hours of tests.

The next weekend he made the trip to Corvallis for a visit complete with a football game. I had to work the game, but was able to hang out with my sisters, brother-in-law, and my boyfriend for a bit at the tailgate beforehand:

Favorite picture of us so far.

Love my sisters!

And that is my life, ladies and gentleman. On any given weekday I am at class or work by 8:30 (8:00 on Fridays), have class or work until 5:00, hit the gym for an hour or two afterwards, run home and scarf down a quick dinner, then spend the rest of the evening sequestered in my room or the library studying my life away. This term is filled with challenging classes that require a lot of reading and studying.

I do my best to work ahead in my classes to leave the weekends free, which has worked out well so far. On Saturday night I took a spontaneous trip to Bend to see my boyfriend for a day, which I was able to do because I had already worked through all of my homework for Monday's classes. Sometimes being an overachiever pays off, I guess!

I hope to get back into the swing of blogging, even if it's just about my usually mundane, very scheduled life.

La vida es así...

epiphany?

Let's be real, people: I've been terrible at blogging lately.

I don't really have any good reasons aside from the fact that I'm really busy and I haven't had anything to write about.

Wait - are those good reasons?

Regardless, I miss it. I love writing, and lately all I've been writing are weekly papers for my Spanish class and essays for my sociology class. Obviously these types of writing are not the same as rambling on about nothing in a post that has nothing to do with my grades and GPA.

Part of the reason I haven't been posting frequently is because I don't feel like I have anything to say. I enjoy reading blogs about people's day-to-day lives, but that was never what I myself intended to write about.

Let's be honest - my life is not that interesting. I can give you a quick rundown right now if you'd like: I go to class Monday through Friday. I work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I complain about my 7:00-10:00 p.m. class every Wednesday. I make dinner, do homework, watch whatever show is on that night (How I Met Your Mother on Monday, Glee and Teen Mom on Tuesday, nothing on Wednesday, The Big Bang Theory and Grey's Anatomy on Thursday, and Say Yes To the Dress on Friday. Note to self: You watch way too much TV), and go to bed...get up and repeat. On weekends I work, do homework, clean, and grocery shop.

See? No big deal. So what am I supposed to write about? I always feel the need to post "deep" thoughts on life. Maybe not deep, but somewhat profound...something to think about it.

But I thought about this - I don't have a huge epiphany every day. I don't always have some brilliant thought that I feel compelled to share with the world...sometimes, all I have is what I did that day. And what I do every day, no matter how mundane, is profound just the same.

Because it's my life. And I'm living it. I'm choosing every day to continue my education, to cultivate my relationships, to work hard so that someday I can be where I want to be.

This doesn't necessarily mean more posts...really, it's okay that no one wants to read about how my day was. I wouldn't either. But I guess this means that I won't just write off my days as insignificant anymore...because while they may not be significant enough to provoke a deep thought, they are significant enough to keep me going.

And maybe that's significant enough to get me writing?

We'll see...stay tuned!

♥ abigail

taking control

As you may know, I am obsessed with quotes.

I tried to count how many are in my room right now, and lost track - they are tacked up on bulletin boards, plastered on my walls, stuck on the shelves above my desks, and taped up all around the mirror on my closet door.

My favorite quotes tend to be a little cheesy...I really like daily inspiration and affirmation.

My favorite right now is in my room and my bathroom, and is from Bill Cosby:

"Decide that you want it more than you are afraid of it."

This has become my mantra these days. Every day I make the conscious decision to take charge of my own life, to make the big decisions that need to be made - because if I let fear get to me, what am I left with? Not a lot.

I don't want to reach the end of my life and look back with wishes - not necessarily regret, but pangs of longing for not doing what I could have done out of fear.

Because honestly, what is there to be afraid of? It's only life - and what's more, it's the only one we get. I don't mean to sound like a motivational poster, but that's really something I've been focusing on lately.

While I've been in college, I've been blessed to have people in my life who push me to get past my fears. They are the people who fit a quote posted on my wall right next to my desk:

"Nobody knows your limits better than you do, but every once in a while somebody will question all you know, and they will push you for the better."

I love these people.

One person tried for a good chunk of time...he ended up getting fed up with my inability to conquer my fears of everything. After he was gone, I started getting braver. I'm not sure exactly how that worked...looking back, I think when I had him being brave for me, it allowed me to further immerse myself in the role of meek, timid Abigail. (Not that I'm a meek or timid person by any means...I'm usually pretty take-charge and authoritative, but there are some situations that I shut down in.)

Another person came into my life this summer who didn't so much push me into conquering fears, but he had this great seize-the-day attitude that was nothing short of infectious.

His passion for living was so inspiring that it got me thinking about how my life so far hadn't been passion-driven or exciting or seized.

I didn't realize that he had such an impact on my thinking until recently. I called him for advice when I felt like my life was falling apart due to my lack of direction, and he worked his magic until I calmed down and felt like I had a better grip on things.

After that conversation, I started seriously considering what direction I wanted my life to take, and how I was going to make things happen...and even though things aren't turning out like we discussed, he still somehow helped point me in the direction that I'm going now. And let me tell you - this direction is very exciting, and I will hopefully have news about it to share sometime soon.

The point of all this is that I have decided to stop living scared. I need to take chances, step outside of my comfort zone, and realize that actually living is more important than fear.

So here goes nothing...or here goes everything. But I'm going, and I'm not going to hold myself back anymore - because really, what's the point?

Thanks to those who helped me realize that.

♥abigail

the little things

The older I get, the easier it is for me to be happy.

You'd think it'd be the opposite, considering the fact that kids are experts on enjoying the little things in life...but somehow, as I've grown up, I've found that it doesn't take much to make me happy.

Today I was driving back to school after a nice weekend spent at home, and I was so happy. I was happy to be on Highway 99, I was happy to have enjoyed my weekend, I was happy with the weather...in essence, I was happy with everything.

Always inquisitive, I tried to put my finger on why I was so happy...and I couldn't think of a reason.

Highway 99 is probably nothing special to most people, but to me it is a beautiful road that connects my two homes. Its lovely farm scenery inspires my thinking and boosts my spirit, and it further solidifies my desire to live somewhere outside of the city.

My weekend was also nothing spectacular - I spent most of it with family, which is always a joy for me. I spent Saturday in Portland with my mom to watch my brother's cross country race, which also crossed my path with my grandma, uncle, and ex-boyfriend's parents (I love his mom dearly). I spent today at church, doing homework, doing laundry, watching football with my brother, and catching up with my sister.

The weather this weekend was my favorite kind - cold and sunny. It's the kind of weather that encourages people to wear boots, jackets, scarves, and hats...my favorite kinds of clothes. I love that my favorite clothes and favorite season go hand in hand...and I love that I rocked my new boots this weekend. Icing on the cake, definitely.

If you look at the things that made me happy on that short 45-minute drive back to school, you can see that there wasn't anything major there that should have made me grin ear-to-ear like I did. Nothing out of the ordinary or especially fantastic...it was just the little things.

And that's what it takes to make me happy.

If you think about it, our lives are made up of little things - even the big moments aren't really that big, because they too can be broken up into something much smaller.

A big, happy moment for my family and I this summer was my uncle's wedding. That in and of itself was huge, but break it down and you can see that we were happy because of all the details...yes, he got married, and we were so happy for him and his wife.

But what's more, we were together. We were at the beach. We were celebrating love. We were bringing families together. We were relaxing. We were in the sunshine. We were eating at Pinkberry for the first time. We were taking walks. We were sleeping in. We were cooking. We were all under the same roof. We were sitting on the balcony, taking in the mornings slowly. We were laughing.

It's really all about the little things...and I'm glad I have that figured out. Because now I've realized that even if the big picture isn't turning out exactly how I want it to, that's okay, because the little things along the way are what matter.

Add in the fact that I know I will end up exactly where I need to be, and I can rest easy and really appreciate the fact that the little things are my life...and I love my life.

♥ abigail

writer's block...again

I've been trying to write a post for over an hour.

I'm trying to find a balance between blogging about the goings-on of my life (I'm sure one day I'll love to look back and remember) and things I feel actually matter...and lately, my writing about things that matter have been sub-par at best. Until they're up to my (probably too high) standards, my poor little blog will seem mostly neglected. Again.

But that's okay. Because even though I'm having trouble writing, I'm filling my time with life, which is good enough for me!

And to hold you over, here's something to read form someone who doesn't have writer's block (or several midterms to study for, a paper to write, and ejercicios to complete):

Jimmy Sanchez, one of the 33 Chilean miners who have been trapped for over two months in the San Jose copper-gold mine in the Atacama Desert, would like to make one small correction to all the stories about life in the mine:

“There are actually 34 of us,” the nineteen-year-old miner wrote in a letter sent up from the mine on Tuesday, "because God has never left us down here."

How wonderful is that? It warms my heart, it really does. Read the rest here.

♥ abigail

my downfall

Nervous laughter will be my downfall.

In situations where I feel uncomfortable, my natural (and, let me add, uncontrollable) reaction is to laugh.

I've been like this for as long as I remember. It gets me in trouble, or at least earns me a lot of grief.

When I was in seventh grade, a strict substitute said something to my class that made me nervous. I giggled, received the death glare, and promptly began to cry.

In eighth grade, I watched a boy in my class almost cut off his lower lip. Yes, you read that correctly. Of course, I laughed. My class was buzzing at this point, so only a few people noticed. They said something, and my teacher came to my defense, informing all the ignorant eighth graders (including myself) that sometimes people laugh when they get nervous.

This diagnosed all of my problems, and I was glad to know about it.

During high school, when boys would ask me out, I would often get nervous and giggle before rejecting them...making me seem like the biggest you-know-what in the world, when really, I just didn't know how to respond to such advances.

I attributed these events, and many others, to my nervous laughter, and I've gone on living my life without a problem.

Tonight my nervous laughter at work caused someone much higher above me authority-wise (astronomically so) to feel as if I were insulting him and joking about situation that wasn't at all humorous.

I quickly apologized, explaining I laugh when I get nervous and that I intended no disrespect whatsoever. I apologized again when we were wrapping up our conversation, and he accepted it.

But I still feel terrible, and I still get a little emotional (read: I cry) when I think about it. Okay, so it only happened like, 30 minutes ago, but I'm still extremely upset. So there you go.

I don't know why this instance feels so much worse than all the others, but it does. And I don't know what else there is for me to do - I sincerely apologized, so what more is there than that?

It doesn't help that a person who would normally reassure me in this situation is either ignoring me or too busy to talk to me right now.

Doesn't really matter, considering I hate talking when I'm upset (read: crying) anyway.

But still. I feel awful, awful, awful.

Stupid nervous laughter.

♥ abigail

think about it

Just a warning to anyone who is reading this - I'm going to be on my soapbox for this post. I try not to be preachy when I write, but sometimes there are just things I need to get out. I figure that since it's my blog (also known as my space to rant and rave about who knows what), it's allowed. Encouraged, even. Right?

So here I go. Stepping up now...

Something that bugs me more than most things (I would say more than anything in the world, but that changes with the day, so I have to be careful) is when people don't think for themselves. I used to be one of those people.

This isn't to say that I was a pushover (definitely not), but I definitely didn't question things as much as I should have. Sure, there wasn't a lot of need to question the things I learned from teachers over the years, but I feel almost embarrassed when I look back and realize how easily I believed something just because it came form the mouth of someone who had some sort of power over me.

During my freshman year of college, I lived in a co-op with 43 other people, mostly freshman. While I loved them, and many are still near and dear to me, my biggest problem with was the ease with which they accepted the things said by the house director and house owners.

If there was a new rule instated, rather than say, "Hey, why did this happen? Isn't this our house too? Shouldn't we have a say in this?", the student leaders helped enforce it.

I was a student leader at the house, and expected to call people out if they were breaking rules, but as the year wore on and I started thinking more independently, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was helping enforce rules that I didn't agree with.

I didn't completely rebel, but it was soon made known how I felt about certain rules and regulations that I was expected to enforce. This led to discussions with the house leadership, where a compromise was reached: I wouldn't break the rules I didn't agree with, but I wouldn't actively enforce them either. Basically, I would be following the rules, but looking the other way if someone were to break one in my presence.

Not exactly a great compromise, and not exactly the effect I was hoping to achieve in my first real anti-establishment moment...but it had to do for the time being.

I ended up moving out at the end of the year rather than live there again. I couldn't stand the idea of going through another year following rules I didn't agree with, and I didn't think I could maintain my sanity while watching my friends happily follow rules they didn't agree with because it was easier than confronting anyone, or watching my friends not even question why certain rules existed when I know that if they would have stopped for a second to think about it they would have seen how ridiculous it was.

I realized that a big problem that my friends had, and that we as people face, is believing something because someone tells us that's the way it is. A lot of the time, we don't even think about it. We don't question it. We just hear it, consider it briefly (though often this step is omitted), and move on with our lives without giving anything a second thought.

I think that this needs to change.

I see so many people around me turning into carbon copies of their friends, their parents - the people they look up to, the people whose approval they crave. They hear what they think on an issue, and rather than thinking for even a moment on what their stance is, they have agreed with them.

We give too many people in our lives the power to make our important decisions for us. For some reason, we value the opinions of others over our own. For some reason, we believe that thinking will take too much effort. For some reason, we have no problem being like everyone else. (Read this post if you want to hear me rant and rave about this subject...I'm trying to stay on topic for once in my life!)

And that, my friends, is one of my biggest problems.

People are afraid to think for themselves. I still haven't figured out exactly why that is. I find thinking to be a wonderful activity. I get something in my head, turn it over and over, examining it from every angle. I come up with new ideas, try to figure out how it relates to other things in my life. I turn it over again, I examine it from every angle again...often I end up right where I started, exhausted and overwhelmed by my thought process.

And then I pick it right back up again.

Because independent thinking is necessary. We can't live our lives accepting whatever comes our way. At some point, it's necessary to fight back. This isn't to say that we can't agree with people. By all means, agree with people! But don't be afraid to disagree with them either.

Don't be afraid to challenge people's views, your own views. Don't be afraid to shake things up, to make changes. It's only through thinking outside of what we're told and outside of what we know that we can ever learn anything.

And isn't that really what life is all about?

Buddha once said, "Believe nothing just because a so-called wise person said it. Believe nothing just because a belief is generally held. Believe nothing just because it is said in ancient books. Believe nothing just because it is said to be of divine origin. Believe nothing just because someone else believes it. Believe only what you yourself test and judge to be true."

It's worth considering.

Stepping off my soapbox now...but really. Think about it.

♥abigail

pushing destiny

People spend a lot of their lives banking on the adage, "If it's meant to be, it will be."

I'd love to agree with that.

For the most part I do, but what I don't agree with is how people choose to handle this statement.

Many people take this statement and hold onto it for all it's worth. They figure that what's supposed to happen will happen, and they get lazy. The next thing we know, everyone's resting on their laurels waiting for things to happen, rather than making things happen.

This expression causes people to take things for granted and to sit around in anticipation of something happening, but that's not how life works.

This isn't to say that I know how life works. But I know that if you want to see results, you have to put in some sort of effort. I know that if you want to get somewhere, you have to move. I know that wanting something to happen and making something happen are two completely different things.

I know that wishing and hoping are all well and good, but can't get you very far. I know that as much as we'd like to, we can't rely on other people to do everything for us. I know that getting things done requires work.

Yes, people believe in God, in fate, in destiny, in karma...but none of those things will help us out if we're just sitting around and waiting for them to take the initiative for us.

Sometimes destiny needs a push in the right direction. Sometimes we need to get up, roll up our sleeves, and find ourselves up to our ears in a mess that is life.

But that's the point - life is for living. It's not going to wait for us to figure that out, either.

It's up to us to create our own destiny. We need to be self-reliant. We need to take a deep breath, and we need to dive in. We need to shake things up. We need to give life the opportunity to give back to us.

By making things happen for ourselves, we're allowing something greater than us to help guide things into place.

So yes, if it's meant to be, it will be - but only if you decide to do something about it.

What are you waiting for?

♥ abigail

I digress. A lot.

Call it a sickness, but I can't tell one story without telling the pre-story first.

Lucky for you (my three lovely readers), this means lots of ramblings for you to read.

Unlucky for you, I lack a camera, so my rambling words aren't broken up with nice photos for you to rest your eyes upon for a second.

Lucky for you, once upon a time I was editor-in-chief of my high school newspaper, so I know about breaking up paragraphs into two to three sentences for reading with ease.

Unlucky for you, explaining all of this resulted in you reading more ramblings...and I haven't even gotten close to the point of this post!

Just so you know, in case I never get around to it, the point of this is to talk about my new workout regimen. If I forget to talk about it, feel free to yell at me in the comments section.

I feel like Ted in How I Met Your Mother for saying this, but before I tell you that story, I really do need to tell you this story.

I just returned home from a lovely weekend in Portland. My younger sister (she's 18) and I made the two-hour drive on Saturday to visit our cousin (she's 16) for a highly-anticipated sleepover.

Clearly this warrants another story...this summer we spent a lot of time together. We were inseparable for 10 days in Manhattan Beach, we saw each other a mere two weeks later for the annual family camp out, and then we saw her a week after that for a trip to the coast.

I'm pretty sure I spent more time sharing a bed with her this summer than I did sleeping alone. That's a lie. But it feels true! She and I moved past our days of having cover-tugging battles all night long to having cousin snuggle love all night long...I really had trouble sleeping alone after our Manhattan Beach trip!

But I digress.

Upon realizing (on August 22) that we wouldn't see each other again until the high school state cross country meet (November 6), we decided that would be too much time apart. We decided to orchestrate a sleepover on one of her free weekend's before my sister and I have to start classes...hello, this weekend!

After getting off to a late start on Saturday due to my sister's visit to Urgent Care (nothing too serious, her earache ended up being caused by a canker sore on her throat...weird, right?), we finally made it to our cousin's house in Aloha by 3:00.

From there, we took our bags to our grandma's house in Beaverton, the site of the sleepover (my cousin's house is in the middle of a remodel, and there isn't a kitchen...this is a problem at sleepovers. Especially when pancakes are required in the morning for breakfast).

After leaving a note to our grandma explaining our whereabouts (we showed up unannounced and didn't want her to be alarmed by the mess of clothes we left all over the front room), we set off for the MAX station.

We had a brief encounter with an interesting stranger, in which he gave us the following advice: "When you meet Prince Charming, don't let him lead you into the ocean because when you get bit by a shark it's for life. An arm and a leg. You don't want to live with that."

Thank you, kind stranger. We'll take that to heart.

We hopped on the MAX and wandered Portland for awhile, making a stop at Buffalo Exchange and Powell's, before our cousin (the cousin we were with's older brother) came and picked us up and took him to his house.

He cooked us a fantastic dinner of the most delicious paninis we'd ever had (jury's still out on whether that was because of how hungry we were or because they were just that good), then took us to a MAX station for our ride home.

We then went to a Safeway and spent a good 15 minutes debating what flavor and brand of ice cream we should get (we settled on the store brand's "Extreme Moose Tracks", which was a good choice), then spent another 10 minutes deciding what other snack foods we wanted (we picked Pirate's Booty and cookie dough). We grabbed a movie at a Redbox on our way home, then finally got back to our grandma's.

We proceeded to eat our weight in junk food and watch our movie, all the while perusing my grandma's scrapbook...she just scrapbooked this summer's events (which included two family weddings), so we were anxious to see what the pages looked like (read: how many pictures we were in, and how we looked in said pictures).

Remind me to get back to the picture I found that inspired my workout regimen. I feel compelled to finish the story about the rest of the weekend...stick around, it might amuse you.

Not because it's amusing. Maybe you're easily amused and just like to read my ramblings. I won't judge you if you do. I'll thank you, though!

After snuggling the night away, we woke up and went to breakfast with my grandma (how perfect was it that today is Grandparent's Day?!). Next, Grandma took us to the zoo, where my cousin played tour guide (she's a Zoo Teen volunteer during the summer).

I fell in love with naked mole rats all over again.

Try to convince me they're ugly.

I dare you.

We went and had a quick visit with another cousin and aunt and uncle before heading back to Grandma's for a late lunch before my sister and I hit the road for home.

It was a lovely weekend.

I love my family. Don't worry - my cousin and I will be reunited on October 10 for the Tyler Hilton concert. Yes, he's coming to town again. I am so excited. Again.

If you want to read about the second time I saw him (the first time I blogged about him), check it out here.

What a pretty man. With a pretty voice. I'm dying, seriously.

Anyway. I'm getting to the point here.

We looked at my grandma's scrapbook pages from our time in Manhattan Beach, and this is what I saw:

That's me in the swimsuit. Let me address a few things:

Yes, I know the dangers of skin cancer. Yes, I wear sunscreen (SPF 45 and 55 the entire trip). Yes, I am blessed with the skin of my father, who is of a Polynesian/Hawaiian bloodline. No, I don't know why I'm so excited about eating that apple. No, those party cups are (probably) not all filled with alcoholic beverages.

What struck me about this photo was the fact that I don't look like this anymore.

This was two months ago, and apparently I was doing a much better job of maintaining my fitness. This photo inspired me to get my butt back in gear and get in shape.

I don't look that different, but I have lost a lot of tone. (By the way, I'm not looking for any sympathy or anything of the sort. I'm definitely not one of "those" girls.) But I have lost a lot of tone and definition, and my stomach doesn't look like that.

So tonight, I decided that instead of complaining about it, I would do something about it.

I'm normally an active girl, but the lack of a gym (I don't belong to one at home, and just have access to one while at school) makes me sluggish...for some reason, I can work out for much longer on ellipticals and treadmills than I can while running outside.

I don't like it, but that's the way it is.

Despite this, tonight I went for a two mile run, did 100 lunges, 50 squats, plus a whole bunch of sit-ups and push-ups. (I also wandered the zoo for two hours today, which definitely got me some exercise.) On tonight's run I discovered that my favorite time to run is at dusk - for some reason I have more patience with it and get less bored.

That photo showed me not only what I used to look like, but what I can look like. And that's all the motivation I need to get myself moving again...which I will be doing every day this week (and in the coming weeks), one way or another.

What motivates you? (Besides reaching the end of this post. Congratulations, you did it! And I am so happy you did. But probably not as happy as you are.)

♥ abigail

when it all changed

This summer, my twentieth summer, has been far more significant than previous summers. I feel like this is the summer that I will look back on and say, "That was it. That's when it all changed."

How many moments in your life can you pinpoint like that? Despite all of the change I've gone through in my short 20 years on this earth, I can't really conjure up specific moments that I remember everything changing. So many things change little by little, so once everything is completely different than it was in the beginning, it's like nothing ever changed.

That's one thought too deep for an early Friday morning.

What exactly changed though? Besides nothing - and everything. While this summer I have figured a lot out, I've also realized that I know nothing. Okay, so that might be hyperbole. But I don't know as much as I thought I did - and I didn't even think I knew all that much...you do the math. It sure ain't pretty.

I've learned. I've grown. I've changed. And still, there is so much I don't know. It's not that I want to know everything right now, or ever, really. I just feel like once I figure something out, I lose something else - either because my new way of thinking causes me to have to look at something else differently, or because what I just discovered introduces me to something else to think about.

It's a beautiful, never-ending cycle. I know that it's one I'll be dealing with for the rest of my life, and I know that most of the time, I'll be able to handle that. Even now, I'm handling it. I'm slowly but surely piecing together the balance of it all, and soon deep thoughts such as these will be acknowledged, considered, and then I'll continue on with whatever it is I'm doing.

I've started to really appreciate the complexity of my thoughts. Yes, these thoughts leave me with more questions than answers, but they also leave me wanting more.

I want to learn more, to question more, to explore more.

I want to step further outside of myself and really take in the world around me.

And these exciting new transformations all took place during my twentieth summer...the summer when it all changed.

♥ abigail

a few things I've learned this summer...

1. Meeting new people isn't as difficult or scary as people think it is.

I've never really been scared of meeting new people, but then again, I've never really had to do it. I went a private, Catholic K-8 school, which (along with our sister middle school) fed into the private, Catholic high school in town. This means that I knew over half of my class when entering as freshman, and when you meet people when surrounded by your friends, you don't really have to meet them...you just kind of find out who everyone is and it all snowballs from there.

As a freshman in college, living with the 43 people I lived with in my co-op was all the icebreaker I needed to make new friends. This summer, I met people at weddings...this is when I learned that simply being in the same space as another person is all the conversation starter you need to start to get to know someone. I feel as if this will take me places in life.

Also taking me places in life will be my knack for making small talk, and then being able to turn that into a real conversation. Finally, something that running my mouth is good for!

2. You can get away with juggling multiple guys at once by calling it "dating".

This "old-fashioned" concept of dating really saved me this summer. There was a brief moment of overlap between some of the boys I'd been chatting up (with my newfound small-talk skills), and for that brief moment, I was a little concerned.

Okay, a lot concerned. Ask my mom. It was as if I was in some sort of moral crisis. I couldn't be consoled. I had trouble sleeping. I felt terrible. I worried. I stressed. I thought way too much. I watched TV shows and movies in which the girl was stuck in the middle of two fantastic guys, trying to draw inspiration from how she made her decision. I agonized for hours over what to do.

Then my wise mother informed me that this was called dating, and I didn't have to do anything. That calmed me down. My mom's moral compass points due north pretty much 100% of the time, so I knew that if she approved of what was going on, it had to be okay.

Once I had calmed down and realized that she was right, she made fun of me for randomly blurting out the following statements at random intervals if my conscience ever began to eat at me again:

"I'm 20, damnit!"

"They don't know about each other, right? You didn't say anything, right?"

(and, my personal favorite...)

"I don't see no ring on this finger!"

Ahh, dating. Love it!

3. The magic position for me to sit in on a plane to stop feeling nauseated.

I figured this one out the hard way on my way to California.

I get motion sickness really easily on planes, despite dosing up on Dramamine pre-flight. I don't do well with the first and last 20 minutes of each flight...plus recovery time, so while in the air I deal with about 50 minutes worth of nausea.

That made this flight to California was the worst kind for someone like me. We took off from Portland and had an hour-long flight to Reno, where we landed to pick up more passengers. This means that I had 10 minutes of time on the actual flight where I felt okay.

We then took off for the second leg of the flight, which lasted, oh, about 50 minutes.

Fantastic.

Needless to say, I had a terrible time on the flight and felt like I was about to throw up for pretty much the entire time.

I solved this problem by locking my left arm on the headrest of the seat in front of me, while resting my head in my right hand that was propped up by my elbow on the tray. Humming quietly to myself with my eyes closed completed my position, and I managed to keep my breakfast. Success!

4. Reading classics is a noble pursuit, but not as fun as reading "classic" books of your childhood.

Anna Karenina. Wuthering Heights. Jane Eyre. The Fountainhead. Atlas Shrugged. Emma. The Sun Also Rises.

These are the novels I set out to read at the beginning of the summer.

They remain in a neat stack next to my bed. I opened each and every one of them, read a few pages, got distracted, and never tried to read them again.

I instead occupied my time with my favorite books from my childhood - like The Babysitters Club series. I read a whole lotta those books this summer. Along with the entire Ramonaseries. And the entire Little House On the Prairie series. I don't feel as if I wasted my time either. I stand by my deep love for these books, and if I have daughters one day I hope they will love them too.

I really couldn't get over how much I still love the Little House series. Laura Ingalls Wilder knew how to write, that's for sure! She also knew (unbeknownst to her, of course) how to write about her experiences on the prairie (and in the big woods, and on the banks of Plum Creek, and by the shores of Silver Lake...) in such a way that makes a good ol' 21st century girl like me want to pack up and move to the middle of nowhere.

Don't even get me started on how wonderful I think life seemed back then...hard work, yes. But they spent their time so productively, they made everything they needed, they went to bed and got up according the the sun...they also wore bonnets and aprons and petticoats. And these people knew how to do things. They could handle life.

Sigh.

5. Sidewalk chalk artwork is a fantastic - and cheap - form of therapy.

I've been using sidewalk chalk with the kids I babysit all summer. A few weeks ago, I passed a 12-piece bucket of it in the $1 aisle at Target and just had to buy it. That evening, I spent a good hour in my driveway working on my art (I can't draw to save my life, so my version of "art" is always just writing my name all fancy-like).

See? It's all I got. But it works for me, and it made me feel like a little kid again, which is always a welcome feeling.

6. There is nothing better than holding a sleeping baby.

Seriously. That is better therapy than anything. Even sidewalk chalk. The baby I nanny for often snuggles up on my chest and just conks out for an hour...and hour I consider to be pure bliss. He falls asleep and I hold him, listening to his contented sighs...then I contentedly sigh, and often fall asleep too.

Pure. Bliss.

7. I am extremely blessed to have such a fantastic family.

I was able to see them on quite a few occasions this summer - two weddings (including 10 days in California), family camp out, beach trip, sleepovers...and on every occasion, I appreciated them more.

My family is awesome. See this post for further evidence.

I love them so much that I'm taking a special trip to Beaverton this weekend for the sole purpose of having a sleepover with my younger sister and cousin. That's a whole lotta love.

8. The best compliments aren't about how you look, but how you are.

This summer I spent a few days a week babysitting for a family whose oldest child has special needs. He is such a sweet kid, but watching him can be very trying. He's 11, and requires as much attention as his 3-year-old brother needs - if not more. I love watching him, but it definitely wears me out after a few hours (his parents are incredible - I don't know how they do it).

One day, I had to take him to the eye doctor to get his glasses adjusted. The staff there know and love him, and it all went smoothly. I didn't think anything of it until a few weeks ago when I babysat for him again. His mom told me that they had been back to the eye doctor recently, and that the woman there who had adjusted his glasses told her that her new babysitter was great with her son. She told her that I was incredibly patient with him, and that he was in good hands.

This woman didn't need to tell the mom this, and she in turn didn't have to tell me...but I am so glad she did, because it was the greatest compliment I have ever received.

9. The best kind of friends are the ones you can talk to as if no time has passed since you last talked, even though it's been months since your last contact.

One friend in particular and I have always been this way. We went to school together from kindergarten through high school. We were best friends in middle school, and drifted apart in high school for a while, before becoming good friends again our senior year.

With us, it doesn't matter how much time has passed - we pick up where we left off, talking loudly and for hours about everything we've missed over the past few months. We catch up on couches and on porch swings, while watching trashy TV shows and eating homemade goodies made especially for the occasion.

This girl knows me better than most of my friends, even when she doesn't have a clue as to what's going on in my life...I really think that this is the best kind of friend to have.

10. Walks on the beach are the best kind of date.

I like to keep things simple.

I don't require much, as long as I'm not hungry and don't have to go to the bathroom.

Walks on the beach at night...oh goodness. If that's not instant romance, I don't know what is.

So the ocean decides to come up really quickly and thoroughly soak your jeans. So you get a little sand in your hair.

Doesn't matter. It's perfect.

11. Weddings are more fun when you're in your 20s than when you're a teenager.

You don't get stuck sitting with your parents, for one. That makes it way easier right off the bat.

The open bar is a place you're more than welcome. The dance floor is your haven.

And then, you're 20. You're an adult, and you're no longer a teenager - at the same time. It's the best age for meeting new people. (Read: New boys.)

I went to four weddings this summer. Four fantastic weddings...all because I'm 20. And not 19.

12. Living at home is fantastic.

I love my siblings. I love my parents. I love my cat.

I love having a washing machine at my disposal. I love having a fridge and cupboard stocked with food that I didn't have to buy. I love having all of my mom's baking supplies. I love having someone to cook for me when I don't feel like it. I love having people to cook for when I do feel like it.

I love having my familiar room with my familiar bed. I love my bulletin board filled with quotes and pictures from high school. I love having a living room with an inviting couch and a TV with more than one channel.

I love having a backyard where I can bask in the sunshine without the nosy eyes of people walking by on me. I love being a place that is so familiar that I can navigate the expanse (which isn't very big, but whatever) in the dark.

I love home.

And those are some of the things I've learned this summer.

♥ abigail