A River Runs Through It.

Cheers to the freakin' weekend! My favorite time of year is upon us: Spring Break or, as I affectionately refer to it, Birthday Week. Naturally, I am up into absurd hours of the night watching a River Runs Through It, "working" on past due Naturalism homework. 

Brent and I are leaving for Goblin Valley in the a.m. then we are off to Colorado. I am glad to be free of responsibility for a week. Honestly, we aren't sedentary creatures; we were meant to roam wild. Everything has felt like a ticking time bomb lately. I am so anxious to move on with my life, yet I am at a crossroads. I am painfully torn between the nostalgia of my past and intrigue of the future. The result is a self-inflicted state of limbo where I find myself discontent with the present. 

Incidentally, I may have found my calling in life. My plan was to become an English teacher, just like my mom. However, with my impending graduation at the end of this semester, I simply can't envision myself as an authority figure, governing over a body of students not much younger than myself. Instead, I want to immerse myself in other cultures-- teach English to young children that yearn for knowledge. I then want to consider a Masters in Linguistics and spend my life conducting field research all over the world. 

This plan really seemed to stick with me. I am beyond blessed that I finally have the opportunity to travel the world come May, so I can finally get out into the world and separate myself from all of the things that cause me pain and all of the people that I have been holding onto too tightly. Then, in August, I am leaving everything and everyone I love in Utah, to the great "Mountain" Montana. I am terribly introverted, and terrifically bad at making friends, so I am nervous to start over again. However, I read a quote from the book I am reading, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, that really resonated with me, "Everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia." 

We hold onto the things that made us happy, even when those things cease to make us happy. This is the burden we, as humans, have; these are the things we carry. We are painfully nostalgic creatures. I've always been a daydreamer, splitting my time between dreaming of the past or the future. However, I failed to notice that I could save my time by simply realizing that the present beautifully encompasses both the past and the future. For instance, when I was a little girl, I imagined that I would get married at 23 or 24, and here I am. Married at 23 (or, almost 23). And one day, I will fondly look back at the time when I was 23 and full of life, and I will regret not living and dedicating myself to being happy and content with the present. 

 

I like to do my best thinking at night, and I am trying my best to be happy with my current circumstances, even though there are a hundred places I'd rather be. Everything in my life conspired to bring me to the place I am today, so I should learn to love the life I lead, and lead the life that I want to live.