Rediscovering Magic

               Today, while looking out the window of my office, I was hit with an intense realization. You see, my office is on the 39^th floor of an iconic building in the heart of downtown Detroit, and when I look out any window on my floor I can see for miles.

            I’ve worked in my office for a month, but today was the first time I really looked at my view, and saw the enormity of it. My window doesn’t just look out at buildings, parking lots, and a river. It looks out onto the lives of thousands of people. My window looks out on employees driving their companies forward, houses and apartments that people call home, and people hustling and bustling to and from moments, small and large, in their lives.

            I’m guilty of something I think every single one of us is guilty of. I’m guilty of not appreciating the enormity of this incredible world we live in. I am one, simple human, surrounded by a million other simple humans, who are actually anything but simple.

            How many people do you pass on the street everyday while you’re driving? How many strangers do you walk past each morning on your way into work? How many anonymous faces do you pass each day without a second thought?

            If you pass me in the hall what do you see? You see a young woman, maybe just a girl, with curly hair, buying a coffee, or waiting for the elevator. When I look in the mirror I see a hard worker, a singer, a cook, an aspiring author. I see a green eyed dreamer who wants to change the world. When you look at yourself in the mirror do you see the same thing? Do you see someone with hopes, fears, and dreams of changing the world?

            Now imagine that every single person in this world, every anonymous face you pass each day, every car that speeds past you on the freeway, every single life that lies outside your window, is a soul with a dream and a passion, a desire to change the world and leave their mark. Every day we are surrounded by thousands, millions, even billions of magnificent creatures called people.

            So today, or tomorrow, take a second to allow the enormity of that fact wash over you. Revel in the notion that each day you are surrounded by hearts, whether in the next cubicle, the building across the street, or island in the river, that are full of passion and the desire to change this great big, terrifying world we live in.

And that, folks, is utter magic. 

Bad Attitude Denied

The other morning as I pulled up to the window at Starbucks, I was feeling good. I looked pretty cute, it wasn't humid out, I was feeling ready to dive into some work. All in all the day (which admittedly I was only about 30 minutes into) was shaping up splendidly. Then my sweet little barista turned to me and said "I'm so sorry, but your card was declined. I ran it twice..." I turned t my wallet, realized i had approximately $2 in cash, and politely explained I didn't have cash, apologized, thanked her for her service and pulled away.

That was the end of my good mood. Firstly, I had just been deprived of my morning coffee. I don't drink coffee every day, and I don't need it to function, but sipping on the sweet, caffeinated concoction is a very pleasant part of my morning. So to keep it simple, I was freaking pissed.

I knew exactly what had happened. I had just received my new chip-enabled debit card in the mail, and my bank had disabled my current card. Instead of accepting this with some dignity, I instead became utterly indignant. You would have thought I was being unfairly detained in Guantanamo the way I acted. "How DARE they!" I fumed as I drove to work.

I also then realized that I had chosen this day as the one I would buy myself lunch, meaning I had no food at work, and no money to buy anything with. Now the bank had interfered with my coffee and the cookie I had been planning on enjoying with my Jimmy John's sandwich. First my coffee, then my cookie. I was craving justice more than John McClane in Die Hard.

As I left work and drove home to get the new chip card (which I now despised with a burning passion) I began practicing my speech for when I would either have to call my bank, or pay a visit to a local branch. You've been there. That moment where you feel so disrespected and unfairly treated that you rehearse exactly what you'll say to the customer service rep in the hopes of making them cry and beg for mercy.

It was in this moment that I realized something very, very painful. I sighed, closed my eyes, and muttered "Fuck" as paused at a stoplight. I groaned as the realization that this entire situation was completely my fault dawned on me. Sure, I hadn't gotten the card for over 2 weeks since I requested it, and yes I had tried to call the activation number multiple times over the weekend with no success, but that didn't matter. It was Thursday, and I knew damn well that I easily could have run to the ATM sometime over the past 4 days to activate the card.

Let me tell you, few things feel as bad as realizing you're to blame, after you've already morphed into Godzilla and smashed half the city. I felt overwhelmed with guilt for the hypothetical bank teller I had made cry. I took a few deep breaths. Gave myself a stern, but well mannered scolding that would make my mother proud, and moved on with my day.

I'll admit I was tempted to remain firmly planted in my bad mood, regaling everyone who would listen with the story of injustice. I could remain in my delusion and easily ignore the reality that was staring back at me with a raised eyebrow, but now. I owned up to my mistake, took responsibility for it, and just like Starbucks had done to my debit card that morning, I declined my bad attitude.

Love, That Nerdy Theatre Girl

I have a confession to make. I absolutely love the theatre. I know, not really that shocking, but there was a time not too long ago where Broadway wasn't hip and those of us who got chills at the sound of a orchestra tuning were mocked for our musical love affairs.

I saw a handful of shows when I was young including Wicked and Mamma Mia, and even though its been more than 10 years, I can still remember being utterly transfixed by the magic that happened on those stages.

As I got older, I jumped at the opportunity to make that magic for others. All throughout middle school and high school I slaved away in the ensemble to bring the magic of shows like West Side story and Beauty & the Beast to life. But this story isn't about me, it's about every other person who has made the choice to become a magic maker.

Becoming a performer is incredible, I'll admit, but it also comes with a steep price. Taking the stage is like stepping behind the veil. You see the reality behind the magic, and from that moment on, you lose your ability to see some of the sparkle.

You can never truly be an audience member again. You can never be swept up in the magic. no matter how hard you try, the little voice in the back of your head will be scrutinizing dance moves and noticing the stage hands. Every note that is even the slightest bit off becomes deafening, and the characters on stage become simply people in makeup.

Don't get me wrong, the people in this world who choose to be performers get the opportunity of a lifetime, and the thrill of being in a show if phenomenal. But they are also choosing to make a huge sacrifice. They're willing to give up the ability to be blown away by the magic, for the opportunity to create it.

So next time you see a show, take a moment to silently thank those actors. And to all of you out there who are still performing and making the magic, thank you. Every day you make it possible for someone new to fall in love with the utter magic that is theatre.  

Serenading the Streets

My 4th of July didn't start out in the best way. It was the typical story of girl meets boy, boy treats girl like crap, and girl cries because society has taught her that her self worth is directly linked to how boys treat her. You know, the plot of every MTV, CW, CBS, NBC, ABC family show that has ever aired.

After a short stream of tears and a quick monologue of "why does no one love me?" I had a choice to make. I could wrap myself in a blanket of self loathing and waste the day trying to figure out why 99% of twenty-something guys are worthless, or I could shake it off T-Swift style and enjoy my vacation day.

So I did. Step 1, I did my hair. Step 2, I put on my makeup, including mascara and a flawless coat of hot pink, "I'm not the kind of girl you mess with" lipstick. Then I tossed on a pair of jeans that I love, and the single cutest, most comfortable t-shirt I own (courtesy of my mother's southern shopping spree). Finally, I went to the one place that is guaranteed to brighten anyone's day...Starbucks.

I got in my car, and did something I haven't done in literally years. I rolled my windows down. Finally I put the most important piece of the puzzle into play. I cranked my speakers up to an obnoxiously high volume, and I put on my pump up playlist. I rode to Starbucks with my curls flying in the wind, and my sassy pink lips belting out every song at the top of my lungs. Sounds like a fool proof plan, right?

Not quite. Life was still having some fun at my expense, and after waiting 20 minutes for my drink at Starbucks, it still hadn't appeared on the counter. I walked up and smiled at the girl who had taken my order, who asked if I was still waiting for my drink. I told her I was, and a quick episode of Scooby Doo mystery later, the Baristas and I concluded my drink I had been sent off with another group's order. I assured them that I wasn't upset and jokingly said that as long as I left with a frappaccino in my hand, I would be a happy girl.

Not only did I leave with an utterly delicious cinnamon dolce frap, but I also left with a voucher for $4 off my next visit from the incredibly sweet cashier. I hopped back into my car, put the windows down, and took the long way home. I spent the entire ride singing at the top of my lungs and serenading everyone I passed. I was reveling in the warmth of looking on the bright side (which unlike the real sun doesn't burn my skin) and completely forgot all the reasons my day had started out badly.

It would've been so easy to spend the day being a sour puss, and wallowing in some self-loathing. Trust me, I know, I spent most of 2007-2015 doing it. But instead I took the advice of Taylor, and shook it off. And I ended up having an awesome day. Sometimes you have to do a little extra work to pull yourself out of a funk, but trust me, it'll be a lot more fun.

Secondhand Smoke

Last summer I first heard a song by Kelsea Ballerini called "Secondhand Smoke". The song is about a girl with divorced parents worrying that her love life will suffer the same fate, singing "What am I supposed to do? I can't help that they chose to breathe it in, but I'm not gonna choke on their secondhand smoke". As a child of divorce I quickly fell in love with the song, and the way it so accurately represented my feelings and fears toward love and divorce.

I was reminded of that song today when I came across an article entitled, "Millennials latest mistake: embracing the 'starter' marriage". In summary, the article discusses how millennials are approaching marriage very differently from prior generations. According to their research, millennials are more open to the idea of marriages that are time bound, like a mortgage. After 2 years or 5 years a couple can easily divorce, or choose to stay together. Of course this sounds shocking and insane to many people, but give me a second to show you the other perspective.

Let me start by saying I don't think we should have 2 years marriages, and I plan on getting married one time, forever and always. But even so, I completely understand the people who don't. A lot of people, regardless of your generation, are children of divorce. We come from broken homes, so do our friends, and so do our relatives. Personally, I'm struggling to think of more than a small handful of couples i know who aren't divorced or on their second or third marriage. My friends and I grew up in a world of separations, remarriages, custody arguments, and divorces.

I'm single, but a small part of me constantly wonders if I could handle divorce. How long should I date my future husband? How can I
be sure we won't hate each other in 5 years? How do I guarantee that my hypothetical future children never have to hide in the laundry room, trying to drown out Mommy and Daddy's fighting? It's terrifying. Sure, you can tell me it doesn't happen to everyone, but it has happened to almost everyone I know.

Millennials don't have commitment issues. We aren't just flaky or indecisive. We are just trying to find a way to love someone in realistic way. When you hit your 20s and 30s, you can't just think of your future love life as a fairy tale. You have to accept the fact that something like 50% of marriages end in divorce, and you have to prepare for it. Our generation is used to disasters and heartbreak. We're just trying to create a life where we can avoid inhaling the smoke.  

#NotAUnicorn

It’s no secret that the millennial generation is currently a hot topic on almost every news and social media forum in existence. For whatever reason, people are currently obsessing over my generation, and it’s almost impossible to visit a news site without seeing at least one or two mentions of those of us born between the 1980s and mid-1990s. What I’m interested in is not just why my generation seems to be so fascinating, but why reporters seem to be obsessed with completely trashing us.

The latest in the #WeHateMillennials trend comes from Kyle Smith, a reporter from the New York post. Now, Smith does seem to have a trend of writing articles that bash whichever gender, political affiliation, or celebrity he decides to hate on a specific day, but his recent article about millennials should really be filed under “Hate Speech” rather than “Office Etiquette”.

I’ll admit even I was applauding Kyle Smith a few weeks ago when he called out Talia Jane, the Yelp employee who posted a whiney letter about her employer online and was then fired (big shock there). I agreed with his points and was glad to see one of the “stereotypical” millennials called out for their behavior.

But here’s the thing y’all, the “stereotypical millennial” is not an accurate representation of the 20 – 30 year olds who are in the work force. Of course, this isn’t that surprising, since it would be pretty difficult to sum up a group of more than 20 million people, with one personality type.  

If you took Kyle Smith’s article “Millennials need to put away the juice boxes and grow up” and replaced the word millennial with another hot button topic like “Muslims” or “African Americans” the country would be in a uproar over cultural stereotyping and his lackluster article would be torn to shreds. So why is it okay for someone to libelously attack my generation, my character, and my work ethic, simply because I was born in 1993?

Take myself, and my three closest millennial friends for example. We are all employed, two of us with full time positions in offices, one with an RA position, and one with a part time job in a senior position within the University. Two of us are full time college students, and all of us have had some type of job since we were between 15 and 18 years old. We rely on our paychecks to cover the majority, if not all, of our personal expenses, and we all understand and embrace the value of hard work, and respect.

I could easily name off a dozen if not more millennials I know who work, are pursuing an education they pay for themselves, and who understand the value of a dollar, and the importance of respecting others. They fight for social justice, pursue their passions, and do so with no interest in dropping out or leaving work to “build treehouses” which Mr. Smith assumes we all do. (In his defense Twenty One Pilots do sing about treehouses, and their song “Stressed Out” seems to be his primary source of inaccurate assumptions about us millennials.)

So once again I ask you two questions. Where did this misguided stereotype come from about millennials? And if it isn’t okay to stereotype genders, religions, or ethnicities, why is it okay to embrace ageism and attack myself, and millions of hard working people just like me? Maybe Kyle Smith should meet some actual millennials and talk to them, instead of relying on Twenty One Pilots’ lyrics to support his judgmental and bigoted bias. And of course, if he hasn’t figured out what Google or iPhones are yet (He belongs to Generation X and they’re of course stereotyped as being inept with most technology), I’m sure there’s a millennial or two at the New York Post who would be more than happy to assist him.  

Millennial Meltdown

The other day I was recruited to help out on a project that some people in my company were working on. I arrived at my designated time and place, and was greeted by some enthusiastic co-workers. I was told that my help was needed in putting together and packaging some materials for an engagement project, and after a quick tutorial I was put to work. My task? Rolling a piece of paper into a scroll and tying ribbon around it.

I’ll admit I was a little taken aback by my new job. “Wait, rolling papers? Really? This is what you needed me to do?” I thought as I sipped my latte and wrapped the scrolls with blue ribbon. With every roll and every ribbon bow I found myself getting more and more frustrated. I kept thinking about all the things on my desk that needed attention and all the big projects I wasn’t working on because of the scroll situation. “Who do these people think they are? I have REAL work to do. I have more important things on my plate than rolling some pieces of paper.”

It was right about the time that that entitled thought flashed through my mind that I got a damn hard slap in the face from reality. My jaw fell open, I dropped the ribbon that was in my hand, and I realized a truly horrific thought. “Oh my god, I sound like that girl that got fired from Yelp.” But even worse off, I sounded like every whiney millennial that I so passionately condemned. I took a sip of my latte and let that all sink in for a second. Then I took a breath, shook off the shame, and went back to my work while giving myself a very stern pep talk. (Yes I talk to myself in my head and sometimes out loud, so sue me).

I thought back to all my event planning classes and my old jobs, and I reminded myself of the philosophy that defines me professionally, and that I hold close to my heart; There is no job that is beneath you, you do what needs to be done no matter what it is. You are not better than any job out there.

I talked myself down of my high and mighty ledge, and quickly calmed myself down as I realized something important. I realized that I am not one of those awful, stereotypical millennials that make life harder for the rest of us, but I am human. There’s nothing wrong with being imperfect, in fact I’m actually pretty amazing at being imperfect, maybe I’ll list it as a special skill on my resume…

But anyways, the point I’m trying to make is that there’s nothing wrong with having a little millennial style meltdown, as long as you can bring yourself back from it and remember what’s important to you. Figure out what those key philosophies are for you, and write them down. On long days, or during tough times I think it helps to have a little reminder of the things that make your heart happy, and the beliefs that define you.

Millennials have a bit of a bad rep, but if we’re willing to work hard, we can change that.   

Quit Your Yelping

One of the biggest struggles with being a millennial is the bad rep we seem to have acquired. There are estimated to be 80 million millennials in this world, but the general perception of our demographic is being determined by a handful of loud mouthed, social media savvy people in their 20s.

The most recent example of this came with Talia Jane and her whining memorandum to the CEO at Yelp. She was quickly fired (SHOCKER) and now it’s a national news story. Talia is 25, and I’m 22, so we are in nearly identical times in our lives, but let me make it very clear that I do not support or agree with Little Miss Sass Mouth over on Medium.com.

In her letter she whines about how her life is not turning out the way she imagined it would when she was eight years old. Well when I was eight I wanted to have supernatural powers and be a princess, but instead I have a paycheck instead of a tiara, and Starbucks instead of a wand.

In life you don’t get an easy road, and everything in life worth getting is worth working your ass off for. From the time I was 18 years old my life consisted of getting my degree, working full time, or a combination of both. In every job I’ve had from cashier, to secretary, to marketing intern, I have worked my little millennial tail off to earn my paycheck, earn the respect of my coworkers, and to earn the right for any type of upward movement. These things are not handed to you. You do not just automatically deserve a promotion after a week of work with a new company. EARN IT.

Talia, the reason they’re making you work a year in Customer Service is to see if you’re loyal and hard working. If you can’t handle that entry level job with class, dignity, and professionalism, why should you be moved to the department of your choice? And maybe, if you wanted to live in a place where the standard of living is even higher than your ego, you should have come prepared. Work for a while somewhere that you can live and save off your paycheck. I’m moving to Nashville at the end of this year, but you know what I’m doing before I move? I’m saving 30-50% of every paycheck I earn this year.

Being an adult is hard work, that’s why you have to live for 18-21 years before you’re considered one. Life is tough, the world is not fair, and the only things you deserve are the things you earn.

Not every millennial is whiny, egotistical, needy, and completely void of any sense of personal responsibility. Many of us are hardworking, dedicated, self-sufficient, and respectful. So stop your Yelping Talia. You’re giving the other 79,999,999 millennials, including myself, a bad rep.

Hello from Miss Millennial

I’m pretty sure I have an idea of what you’re thinking right now, “Greeaat, another whiney millennial with a blog”. Am I right? Trust me I feel your pain. I’ve seen the explosion of news coverage about millennials and their “open and honest” letters to their bosses, or the articles about how to ‘deal’ with millennials in the workforce. Those stories and articles pop up on my Facebook feed and Yahoo News and they fill me with the same dread, disdain, and annoyance as you.

This blog is about the life of a millennial, but not in the way you might expect. I’m a normal (somewhat), hardworking, respectful twenty-something girl who is trying to survive in the awkward and painful period between college ending, and being cannonballed into the real world. I’m talking about graduating, how much life after college kind of sucks, dating (which also kind of sucks) and everything from dating apps, to job searches, to filing taxes, all from the perspective of an old-fashioned, yet modern girl.

This is going to be an adventure full of clumsiness, confusion, chaos, and luckily for you, some entertaining anecdotes. So sit back, relax, and enjoy this perilous and marvelous journey called life with me.   

Well Hello There

I'm 22 years old, on the verge of having to start adulting 100% of the time, and I am utterly TERRIFIED! But quotes like this remind me that life is about turning every terrifying task into an unforgettable adventure. Bring  it on world!