It's been awhile

It has been months since I posted anything. My life has gone through the most dramatic shifts you can imagine. In May when I last published anything, I had intended to keep the world updated on the crazy new life I was about to lead.

I didn't. Obviously. To recap, I lived in Atlanta and then Miami, and then Atlanta again, and now I call Minneapolis home. The whole experience was surreal. It was not entirely unlike studying abroad, especially if I had participated in a more traditional program with other Americans. I was living and working and going out with the same people for six months. It was a reality show all in its own right. The anger, the stress, the grudges, alliances and hookups all compressed into six months, one apartment complex, and what ended up being 12 people.

I miss them, even the ones I really don't especially care to see again.

I'm living alone now. This is the first time in my entire life that I am living alone, and most of the time it's nice. My apartment is all mine, the mess, the food, and the furniture. I own it, and I can make it whatever I want. I've always been good at entertaining myself, so I'm never bored; there are always at least 7 things I could or should be doing in any given moment. I love being busy and entertained, but I can feel myself getting more tense.

I keep trying to look at my symptoms in a logical manner; are they something that is caused by the weather or climate this time of year? Because one year ago I was facing the same anxiety... I remember laying on the heated floor in my bathroom, unable to breathe outside of hyperventilating. When I was in Atlanta, I was fine. I had three incidents, that's about one every two months instead of the two every one week I was having in Fargo. Is it the location? Did running away from my problems temporarily resolve them? Objectively, I am tense. My hands shake constantly and I'm dizzy, enough so that I've had to stop using the treadmill because I can't keep my balance. But that happens every winter. Logically speaking, I'm dizzy and therefore I'm tense. I'm tense, and therefore my muscles in general are tired and my hands shake. Being tired has made me more susceptible to emotional viruses, those unpleasant feelings and ideas that worm their way through busyness and motivation to make me feel like I'm splintering. Or maybe I just yearn for warmer climates.

The major benefit to being here in Minneapolis is the phenomenal support system I have here. I know people all over the world, but this really is the place where the people who know my secrets live. I try to put into words what these people mean to me, and I simply can't. I am specifically thinking of Michael. There have been so many times where I call, on the verge of losing it, and he will sit and talk to me until I calm down. I never need to invent a reason to call. I just pick up the phone and always know that he will be the park bench to my bustling city center. There's no way I can ever really express to him what he's done for me over the years. If it weren't for him, my life would be very different.

'Lanta Life

I've been in Atlanta for TWO WHOLE WEEKS. I love it here. At some point, I'm going to get to know the city. So far, I've seen the Buckhead bars, the Sweetwater Brewery, and Piedmont Park for the Atlanta International Jazz Festival. There is so much left to do, I'm hoping we find a chance to get it all done and don't just end up drinking every time we have a free moment. Right now we're kind of like a bunch of borderline alcoholics.

By we, I mean my classmates. There are 15 of us in our class. We spend 9 hours a day together in class at the AT&T corporate campus. It sometimes feels like a weird sort of social experiment. Like someone said, "What would happen if you put 15 people who ran their respective campuses in a competition to be the best?". It's crazy. Everyone wants to be heard, raise their hand first, make the most profound statements, and have the power to direct the rest of the group.

Breaking it down by the numbers:
4 girls, 11 boys
5 people who have sold phones before, 3 of whom worked for AT&T and 2 who managed stores for other companies
1 Asian, 3 Hispanic, 4 white, 7 black
4 Midwesterners, 9 Southerners, 2 West Coast people
3 22-year olds, 4 23-year olds, 2 24-year olds, 1 25-year old, 1 27-year old, 1 29-year-old, 2 32-year olds, and 1 34-year old
3 introverts, 11 extroverts
1 married man, 1 engaged man, 1 man with a girlfriend, 12 single people

So that gives you a snapshot of our little class. It isn't anyone who goes out every chance they get. There are about 8 of us that consistently go out together. It's a fun time, but with such strong personalities and tendency towards leadership with every single person, combined with such vastly different people and backgrounds... things might start to get uncomfortable really fast. I'm holding my breath and waiting for the tension to start building up to where everything starts crashing down. What's nice is that even when that happens (and it will; we spend too much time together for it not to) we will still be spending time together, and so we'll be forced to fix things that we may have just decided weren't worth the effort otherwise.

I love living the 'Lanta life.

I have arrived

I'm here!

I made it to Atlanta, safe and sound.

At the moment, I'm really bored. Boredom leads to thinking, analyzing, then over-thinking and over-analyzing.

This is such an opportunity for me. I have the chance to be literally anything. I don't know anyone here. They don't know me. I can be so totally honest here, undo all my half-truths and leave all my mistakes and miscommunications behind. It's incredibly freeing, but a little terrifying at the same time. I've been the Concordia version of myself for so long. Even when I went to Mexico, that was me. I dragged all that baggage between countries, bringing it to Mexico, adding and subtracting insecurities and perceptions, and bringing what was left home with me.

Now I'm here.

When I say that I can leave all my half-truths and miscommunications behind, I don't mean that I was a liar, or that I made things up. But four years is a long time, especially the four years between 18 and 22. The things that were true at 18 aren't anymore at 22. I don't hate romantic comedies as a genre anymore, and I won't avoid scary movies like the plague. I am much more aware of the difference between being good and being self-righteous, and I have come to realize how badly I need people who will be straightforward and honest with me.

I don't really know what I'll do differently, but I'm going to paint myself as honestly as I know how. These next six months are going to be practice in being a more real and truthful me.

I, Emily Hiestand, am terrible at reading people's feelings towards me. I will always convince myself that people are just trying to be nice, and don't actually like me. I don't know the line between flirting and being nice. I like being warm. When I get really angry, I cry. When I get really sad, I watch TV. Or blog. When I get really excited I make odd noises and do a little white-girl dance. When I'm nervous, I talk too much, sweat, and shake. When I'm happy I want to tell someone about it. When I drink I share too many of my skeletons.

I have the baggage that I've dragged with me all over the world, but it's not going to weigh be down. It's so full of useful information and tools, and most importantly, people I care about who I know care about me. Whatever else happens, there will be Laura, Krista, Josh, Kate, Tichael, Peters, Adam, Taylor, and Zeb. I trust them, all in different ways and for different reasons; but I truly believe that if I really, really needed them, I could count on them to be there. That means more to me than any amount of self-awareness.

Contents of my coin jar

$0.82 in pennies
$0.80 in nickels
$1.10 in dimes
$2.25 in quarters (not going back in, I might need those for parking)
$0.50 in silver dollars
$4.00 in gold dollars
2 Chinese coins my dad brought back from a business trip
$2.11 in Canada money
12 pfennig, which I think was German currency before the euro
1 rand from South Africa
2.55 euro
$41.90 in Mexican pesos, which would get me like 2 tacos or a capuccino

I want to be like the movies.

I'm ok with being ordinary; ordinary looking, with an ordinary job and paycheck, and ordinary car and an ordinary apartment. Life doesn't need to be extraordinary to be beautiful and valuable.

I've graduated, and I'm getting a real person job. I'm moving 1,360 miles away, and everyone says that it's a brand new adventure, which is totally accurate.

These times of transition always make me feel a little lost. I don't really have an ultimate goal, but I've come to realize that it makes me just like everyone else. I'm just sort of wandering through life, looking at things along the way. If I had a goal of where I wanted to end up, I could maybe formulate a plan with steps, and measurable timetables. I know it's typical Midwest to want a house with a yard, a spouse, kids, cars, and maybe a place to go on the weekends.

I don't know if I want any of that. Do I really want the average 2.5 children? And why is being single bad? I would rather stay single than be divorced before I'm thirty, and I certainly don't need a house so big that I lose my husband and kids in the too-many rooms. Maybe I want some or all of those things, or will want them someday.

Right now, I have different priorities:

I want to sit and eat take-out on the floor of an apartment or house, surrounded by boxes full of yet-to-be-unpacked household items. I want to move in and sleep on a mattress on the floor at first, cause there hasn't been time to go bed shopping yet.

I want to tape paint swatches on the wall and stare at them, and then paint them on my walls with a scarf on my head and a smudge on my nose.

I want a balcony where I can put plants, and smoke hookah, and eat biscotti with my coffee on sunny Sunday mornings.

I want a kitchen I can dance-cook in, one with enough space for me to spin in a circle.

I want to find some sort of exercise that I enjoy. I don't want to be old and fat.

Atlanta is going to be an adventure. Each time I try something new, I understand the direction I'm headed a little better. Will it be perfect and life-altering? I hope not. I don't want cliches.

Icky sicky

I'm sick.

When I was younger (think 13-15) I used to play dress-up in my room. I'd make up new episodes of my favorite shows, M*A*S*H and Hogan's Heroes, and then act them out in front of a mirror. I was always the hero, and I usually got horrifically wounded in some way that saved every single other person in the general vicinity, and then made a magical recovery from the edge of the grave to everyone's great relief and astonishment. Some of those stories involved me pretending to be a boy. I'd wrap my chest up in Ace bandages until I looked like I had pecs instead of boobs. It was always a little difficult to breathe. I usually incorporated that into my almost-tragic story.

I stopped my imaginary life on the battlefield when my real life got busy and I got more friends. Plus there's no way I could pass for a boy anymore. Unless that boy had some serious man-boobs.

My head aches, my nose is drippy, and I feel like I have an ACE bandage wrapped around my chest. And Alan Alda is nowhere to be found.

Oh, you...

Damnit.

Track of the day: Bang Bang by will.i.am
Blue: My foot, I've been sitting on it and it's turning colors.

Negative Nancy

Poor Nancy. I don't know anyone with that name, but that's probably cause everyone just assumes she'll be a Debbie Downer. Get it? Cause I don't know anyone named Debbie either... funny...?

Regardless, there is a ton of negativity happening on my Facebook newsfeed and I'm kinda sick of it.

"But Emily," you say, "Your complaints of negativity are also fairly negative, and I'm pretty sure a couple of your blog posts have been significantly more whiny than uplifting". Fair point, friend. Touche. I know that it makes me a hypocrite to complain about complainers, but I'm not blowing up your Facebook newsfeed on a daily basis with information that's irrelevant to my life about how shitty yours is because you have a cold. 

Life is shitty sometimes. Everyone knows that. 
Anyone who says otherwise is either super drugged up or lacking some of their mental faculties. 

But you- with your constant complaints about schoolwork being overwhelming, and your unfortunate allergy symptoms- you're bringing everyone who sees your whiny status DOWN. They're having a perfectly decent day, and then:

BAM!

This beaut of a status:

"When I get emotional, I get cold, when I'm cold, I get the shivers, which makes my shingles worse (don't ask me why, cus idk). -rough night for various reasons..."

This particular Facebook-er has a pretty consistent habit of incredibly depressing statuses. If the writer is reading this, know that you have been stricken from my newsfeed for your status that make me want to smack you and ask you the following:

Are you trying to make people feel sorry for you?

Are you trying to bring everyone down to your emotional level?

Is there a reason you needed to broadcast this rather than texting your mom so she can say, "Oh poor baby" at which point you can cry a little bit to yourself and then get on with your life?

Maybe your thought process is, "I'm just being honest about what's happening in my life right now". To which I would counter,

REALLY??

Is that the ONLY thing that's going on in your life right now?

Is today actually the worst day of your life because you woke up late and forgot to finish that term paper?

It makes me feel like this:

My one suggestion to you is that you consider this: Emotion is contagious. Empathy is what makes humanity incredibly and wonderfully humane. Your statuses are going out and contaminating the bright, emotional palettes of others with nasty shit-colors. Don't be the smallpox of the emotional world. Be that awesome kind of radioactivity that makes people into superheroes so they can join the Avengers.

I want to know about your life. I want to know what beauty you saw in the world today, and what struggles you've overcome, and if you need help overcoming a struggle I'd be glad to help you out. But if your cry for help is your Facebook status, know that  you won't be taken seriously. It's Facebook, where people post Instagram-ed photos of their Starbucks cups.

And I will disable any notifications from you. :D