So, why doesn't studying abroad get you an international life?

So, why doesn't studying abroad get you an international life and why didn't any tell you that? I studied abroad for the experience of seeing a different part of the world with the goal of one day living like a "real person" abroad. At 20, my definition of a "real person" was someone who had a job and had responsibility, which was not me when I was in France... 

Fanta Fanta, don't ya wanna?!

I know many people majored in international business, or something like that with no clear, in my opinion, path forward to a paycheck. I thought to myself, "I am studying something that will at least get me a job, PLUS I've had some international experience. Surely I can get a job abroad??" I walked away thinking I could totes work abroad someday...

What they should tell you is, "You should get these types of experiences and exposure because it will probably make you a more self aware person." They should coach you that it's unrealistic to think you're going to be living in whatever country you want to for 2 years and they'll pay for you to come home to see your family... Apparently someone finally did a study on the benefits of studying abroad and it does make you more likely to get hired, but I wanted it to make me more likely to live abroad. Whaaaa #firstworlproblems 

If you want to have an international life, there are a lot of sacrifices. I feel like that part is left out. If you are American, you either dedicate your life to the goal of getting a decent international job, or you become a professional bum living and working at hostels or some other very unstable &/or risky life choices. 

I struggled emotionally for a long time, and probably still do, because I wanted to be free-spirited enough to take a chance and spend some time living/working in hostels. Not only would it have been bad for my liver, I couldn't justify the gap in my resume. Now is the time to show growth, but later is the time when you have too many responsibilities to bum around... Waaaahhhh #firstworldproblems 

Swimming in a fountain totes sets you up for life.

Then there's the career path route, which I took. I've discovered that companies do not provide as many international opportunities nor do they offer the amazing expat benefits I've heard so much about. I get it, I've been to business school. It is/was a total waste of money. There are capable people in most countries in which your company does business... That does not help me get an international job! Waaaahhhh #firstworldproblems I haven't given up hope, but I'm not getting a lot of encouragement.

Even though I feel the proverbial "they" weren't straight with me about the goals and benefits of studying abroad, I know I would be a different person without that experience. I am more self aware because of my time there. I believe that I am more appreciative of the moments in my life. I am more accepting of people different than me, I think. For these reasons, I strongly believe everyone should take a trip abroad, and experience the opportunity for self discovery.

I am sure the impact is probably different when you are 20 and finishing adolescence than if you are out of college. However, no matter the age, I believe that seeing other cultures opens your mind to differences and experiences you may have, otherwise, overlooked. I actually agree with the sentiment of the afore mentioned article, even if there's some flaw in their approach ("studies also show that students who studied abroad earned 25 percent more than their peers who did not study abroad" I have a feeling there might be some other factors ignored here, like the fact that if you study abroad, you can usually afford to study abroad and therefore may have some other societal odds in your favor)

My experiences were super professional...

I've come to terms with the fact that I may never have that glamorous, international job, but studying abroad exposes the splendor and awe in everyday life. My life in Atlanta is its own blend of excitement & normalcy... and much like Travis' dream to be an astronaut, I don't plan to give up on my dream to live internationally. Instead, I will spend the time and effort to create my career constellation that hopefully includes a star living in another country.

So, I hate routine

So, I hate routines. I have this fear of complacency and boredom and have, maybe too harshly, linked it to routine. My biggest fear in life is basically summed up by the movie Revolutionary Road... which is probably why I didn’t want to marry until I was really sure.

 Have you ever seen the opening montage for the Showtime TV show Weeds? It is a pretty accurate representation of my home town. I lived in a suburb outside of Houston in a very safe, but cookie cutter town called Sugar Land (the band named itself after our town because they liked the name, not the town). My father travelled for work, or was home late due to traffic. My mother, the dentist, worked hard and made sure dinner was on the table, whether or not she prepared it. Many of the families we knew were doctors, so much so that some of the neighborhood children just assumed all adults were doctors. All the parents we knew worked hard to have a nice life for their family, and it was all very mainstream.

Neighborhood pool parties were regular

However it sounds or looks on paper, our lives were by no means boring. We travelled as a family to exotic or quintessential destinations. We all participated in any after-school activity we wanted. Our neighborhood played countless rounds of “night tag,” including the parents. During one famous neighborhood story, my brother and his friends almost took out (by any means necessary) some people who were “burglaring” an out of town neighbor’s house. Luckily, as the burglars were in the sights of their BB gun, one of the boys said, “maybe this isn’t the best idea”. They eventually found out that it was just the neighbors making sure something flammable wasn’t happening at the house. Our childhood was awesome and my parents instilled a respect for experiences, no matter what they were.

I would say that the surge of living in the ‘burbs of whatever city as the millennial generation was coming of age is directly linked to the resurgence of those same millennials living in-town, including me. The seemingly boring life of the ‘burbs has scared us to ensure excitement in our lives. Our parents worked hard so we could live a better life. The “better” life they referred to was one with excitement and adventure, but is that an over-correction? 

The millennial’s parents wanted a “better” life than their parents and that meant, not being stuck in your small town, more money and stability. They will follow the job. They put work first believing that is the best way to provide for their family. In this over correction, they became a cautionary tail to millennials to not miss out on life for work. This manifests in millennials’ drive towards work life balance, but also in an uptick in studying abroad, taking a gap year, moving home or saving money to find the right job instead of just a job.

My Atlanta Sister (MAS) said to me the other day, “Girl, you should start eating soup because you’re plate is always too full!” My days are always over planned and I tell myself, “then there is no room for boredom.” As I’ve now turned 30, am so wise and have learned so many insightful things #yeahright, I decided I would give routine the ol’ college try.

Over the years, I’ve come to learn that exercise is NOT going to be the thing that gets me on the routine wagon... So, I tried meditation. My new best friend Andy, from the Head Space app, has been talking me through meditation for 12 consecutive days now! I must admit it took me on and off almost 2 months to fully commit to such a long streak of consecutive days. #LongerThanHanukkah

Obligatory adorable dance phot

How is it going, you might wonder? Well, so far, it is a good gateway routine for me. I have also started taking my vitamins regularly and I’ve eaten breakfast like 2 days in a row! Meditation is perfect for my over-planning, afraid of being boring and wanting to enjoy my experiences soul. Andy tells me to focus on the now, embrace the cloud of thoughts and watch them pass. Meditation gives me time to take a break from the hectic life I bring and feel more energized for it.  I feel encouraged that I can find a decent routine that makes me feel better but doesn’t suck the excitement out of my life.

Our generation of hipsters, in-towners and entrepreneurs exist, in part, due to this fear of complacency and boredom. How will the next generation over-correct?

Movies

So, Snoop Dogg got my attention the other day.

Indirectly, I should say. See, I was browsing the morning-coffee news — which, for me, means binge-reading fascinating Playboy interviews from 1995 — when I unearthed David Sheff's absolutely fearless Q&A with the big Dogg of rap himself, a roaming and roiling (NSFW) introspective that somehow clearly dates itself as 20 years old while still proving pertinent to the modern day. I dare you to read it. Double dogg dare.*

*-I'm not sorry.

It's a long read with countless things worth discussing, but one topic really got my attention — when the writer asks Snoop if his music affects the way people act and think. Snoop is, to put it mildly, unconvinced:

• Playboy: But does the message get past the headlines and the image? Don’t kids just see you, your success and the guns? 
• Dogg: The message is always going to get through. Me being able to speak is a message in itself. The little black kids are saying, “Well, damn! Snoop Dogg comes from the same neck of the woods we do, and he made it and he’s able to say what he wants to say. I want to be like him.” That’s the dream right there. So don’t blame me for the problems. You can’t fault me for it. You can’t blame me. 

To a certain extent, he's correct — it's extreme to wholly saddle an artist with the ramifications that come with people's reactions to their art. But it's also pretty naive to insinuate that media doesn't affect people. Snoop never goes quite that far, but if you read the interview in it's entirety, I think you'll find the sentiment lurking between the lines, like I did.

Media, in all its forms, absolutely affects people's world views. Music, movies, TV, books — they all help shape our opinions, our interests, our pasts and our futures. People say love is the most powerful force known to man, but in today's world, you could argue that media consumption is far more potent — because, for better or worse, it teaches entire generations what love is. 

Just take movies for example. The characters we foolishly idolize, the timeless one-liners we all wish we could find a way to use, the ridiculous standards we hold relationships to. Movies did this to us, or at the very least exacerbated an existing issue. 20th Century Fox shaped our generation's opinion of love. And that's just one emotion we're talking about! Stretch this out across the spectrum of human emotional complexity, and you get the point.

I mean, let's be honest — we've all wished we could dance like a badass. 

And see Patrick Swayze's hair up close just ONCE.

I think millennials have it tougher than most, too. We were born in the '80s, right when films were starting to get real and visceral in a way that '60s and '70s cinema was still trying to refine. And now that we millennials are in our 20s and 30s, Hollywood (and the limitless funding at its disposal) has streamlined the illusion of reality. I think we've been shaped by media more than any generation in American history, and movies — truly the perfected fine art of the '00's — hold the gold standard.

Lucky for you, I decided to put this theory to the test.

Keep in mind, I'm not an expert. I'm not sure I would call myself a movie buff, but I'm probably well-versed enough to spot one on the street, and, regardless, I'm damn sure I can Wiki my way through 32 years of movie history to prove a point. Which I did.

What follows - both below, and in three subsequent posts that will publish over the next few (undecided)s - is what I believe to be the most impactful movies on the millennial generation. I broke this up by decade — '80s, '90s, '00s, and '10s — ending with 2015. I would have started in 1984, when I was born, but that's CRAZY talk, because Return of the Jedi came out in 1983, and any list like this without the original Star Wars films is horseradish. So, instead, we started with the year of my conception. Which probably involved Star Wars anyways. So sue me. A few quickie criteria points for you to know.

- There is a loose correlation between age of the watcher and the movie, by about a 10-year window. A movie that hit 40-year-olds in the 1980s didn't hit millennials the same way. This is known as the Schindler's List metric.

- Sequels were treated the same as originals. They have to stand alone as impactful films. An epic original does not save a seat for a suboptimal follow-up. This is known as the Die Hard metric.

- Just five movies per year, listed in order of importance. In case you were wondering, 1993, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998 and 1999 were the toughest. The easiest was 2010, where I only found five movies worth mentioning. This is called the Black Swan metric.

- I ranked the five most impactful movies of the entire decade, as well. It's the little numbers to the right of a handful of titles. This is called the Jurassic Park Needs Its Own Category metric.

Everybody ready? Here we go. No bathroom breaks.

The 1980s

1983
Star Wars Episode IV: Return of the Jedi  (#1)
- Absolutely shaped an entire generation's views and attitudes about space. And aliens. And sword fighting. And daddy issues. And slave bikinis.

National Lampoon's Vacation
- It wasn't the best of these movies — that belongs to the Christmas installment — but it paved the way for how our generation viewed humor for almost 20 years.

A Christmas Story
- Next time you go through a Christmas season without somehow referencing a Red Ryder air rifle or a leg lamp, you just call me and let me know.

Scarface
- Controversial opinion, but I think this movie is what officially migrated the young populace away from viewing mafia/drug violence through the "Italian gangster" lens.

Risky Business
- More or less cemented Tom Cruise as our definition of cool. And then came the scientology thing. I feel like I practiced my sweet underwear slide move for NOTHING. My life was a lie.


1984
Sixteen Candles  (#4)
- Our first teenage angst tale, and Molly Ringwold became the face of young America. This also kicked off writer John Hughes' 10-year run of unparalleled greatness.

Ghostbusters
- Dorks courageously standing up against ghosts? There's a chance for all of us! Also, caused every boy to ruin at least one tablecloth in his lifetime. Oh well. Worth it.

Karate Kid
- The fact that this didn't end up in my 1980's top five is a crime. But Daniel-san had us all chopping air for months. I swear I took karate because of this. I was terrible.

The NeverEnding Story
- Our first true fantasy tale — it was weird and fantastic and we couldn't get enough of it. It was like Star Wars in that sense ... an entirely new universe for our consumption.

The Terminator
- I'm not sure if this is the quintessential Arnold movie, but it's probably in the running, and the career that this film helped spawn convinced our generation to make him a governor. (shakes head)


1985
Back to the Future  (#2)
- Is it crazy to say this film, at the very least, shaped our fashion sense? Didn't every guy kind of dress like McFly for a while? Stop it. Of course you did. Maybe I should bring this trend back.

The Goonies
- Instilled a love for treasure hunting that would hold us over until, what — Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? Pirates of the Caribbean? Also taught us to love our monsters.

Teen Wolf
- Great movie, but completely ruined werewolves for us as a scary/sexy topic until Twilight. I'm also counting this as a basketball movie, whether you like it or not. Slim pickings.

Weird Science
- How impactful was Weird Science? Oh, I dunno, it only wrecked Frankenstein for an entire decade of teens. He built it out of body parts? What? Why not just make a super hot chick?

Pee-Wee's Big Adventure
- Initially, it taught us the whimsical fun of absurd characters and odd plot lines. Later, Paul Reubens (Pee-Wee) taught us to avoid adult theaters. The gift that keeps on giving!


1986
Ferris Bueller's Day Off  (#3)
- Ferris represented the best that us young boys could possibly be: tactically brilliant, irresistibly charming and singularly fearless. And his girlfriend was beautiful. Game, set, match.

Top Gun
- The original bromance story for our time — and our first taste of how undeniably cool fighter pilots are. Also, this celebration style is still very much in play. Rightfully so.

Hoosiers
- At least in the conversation for best sports movie of all time, and it emphasized a team-first culture that parents and kids both loved. Thankfully it didn't impact jersey styles.

Aliens
- Yay, Star Wars, space is awesome! Wait, no — space is completely terrifying. Aliens, like its predecessor, was one of the first films to make the final frontier scary.

Crocodile Dundee
- Look, it's not necessarily killer cinema. It may not even be good cinema. But it certainly short-circuited our viewpoints on Australian people for many misguided years.


1987
Dirty Dancing  (#5)
- Almost too many classic moments to count, but this movie was brilliant for both making dancing a masculine thing to do, as well as reminding us that love can pick surprising partners.

The Princess Bride
- Spectacular in its charming sense of absurdity, and arguably the most quotable movie from the '80s. If this wasn't our generation's first cult classic, it has to be close.

Wall Street
- Call me crazy, but did Gordon Gekko help spawn the Occupy Wall Street movement? Did our intense hatred of him sow the seeds of a generation raving about income inequality?

Predator
- This looks like an obvious Travis-is-biased selection, but you're wrong — if I was just picking movies I liked, this spot would have gone to The Brave Little Toaster. Don't care what you say.

Full Metal Jacket
- This was a stretch, because most of us didn't even see this movie (much less appreciate it) until the mid '90s. But this film was one of our first looks at America as a less-than-savory shade of gray.


1988
Die Hard
- Our generation's John Wayne movie has become a Christmas-time staple, but definitely gave us our first 'motherf&#$*@' a bit too soon. Mouth, meet soap. Bruce Willis is always getting me in trouble.

The Land Before Time
- Our first solely-animated movie set the stage for both Jurassic Park (still one of the biggest movies of all time) and our lifetime love of dinosaurs. Littlefoot is a (prehistoric) American hero.

Big
- As if growing up weren't hard enough, this confused us even more. Part of me feels like I spent my youth trying to be older than I really was, and I blame Tom Hanks and his big coat. 

Who Framed Roger Rabbit
- We were really lucky to have one of the most original film concepts in recent memory land at the exact right time for our age group. Judge Doom is legitimately scary, man.

Bull Durham
- Kevin Costner's struggle against father time sparked a flurry of baseball films, while basketball and football counterparts were hard to find. As expected, every kid in the '90s loved baseball.


1989
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
- Guys loved him for his knockout punch, and ladies loved him for his patented unshaven chic. In short, it's what made us love Harrison Ford, and him hate all of us.  

The Little Mermaid
- This Disney heavyweight spawned a golden age of animated film — almost every year of the '90s supplied a marquee cartoon classic. Plus it made red hair fashionable. This is Ron Weasley's favorite movie.

Dead Poets Society
- Like Full Metal Jacket, this one hit us a little later in our lives, but parent vs. child was a theme a lot of kids were struggling with at the time. Common problem, brilliant movie.

Honey, I Shrunk the Kids
- If the geeky pseudo-science didn't hold you, the refreshing theme of parents being the clueless lumbering monsters probably did. I've never really been able to eat Cheerios again.

Batman
- Planted a comic book-loving seed in us that would finally blossom almost 20 years later. Our first taste of the DC universe was weird as hell, but it was enough to pique our interest.

So, I can’t believe what happened in Paris

So, I can’t believe what happened in Paris, but then again, sadly, I guess I can.

We all remember, well most of us who are old enough, remember where we were on September 11^th. Our parents remember where they were when John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Generations before that remember Pearl Harbor… I could keep going but I’m not a history major so I’ll probably miss quite a few KBD (Kind of a Big Deal) activities. I was texted by my ABS (Atlanta Big Sister) to check out the news on Paris. In my lifetime there have been countless school shootings, including the most memorable for me, Columbine. I was afraid to go directly to the news, because I have so many fond and life changing memories from France. It breaks my heart to think of that beautiful city filled with such terror.

I have been to Paris a few times, and I spent 4 months in Aix-en-Provence, in the south of France. Every time I went to Paris, I learned something new about history, discovered something new about myself, or realized how to keep a successful relationship with family and friends. Many of my experiences may not be specific to France, but the French setting certainly left an imprint. I spent Christmas in Paris one year with one of my most cherished friends, TBS (my Texas Big Sister). We went to Christmas Eve mass at Notre Dame (running home in the drizzling streets to meet the hostel curfew). The next night, we called our families from the pay phone in the hostel and wished them all a Merry Christmas. We spent our evening drinking from mugs we obtained in Germany, talking to strangers from all over the world that we most assuredly will never see again, and our Christmas in Paris was unforgettable. I missed my plane home that trip, and cried in the Charles DeGaulle airport cursing a down arrow equaling straight ahead instead of to go down the escalator… Let’s skip over the fact that I didn’t leave enough time.

As a college student in France, I was grateful for all sorts of experiences and opinions. Each day was a brand new opportunity to learn and grow mentally and emotionally. Sitting at a café for hours working on school work, purchasing a bottle of wine and asking the grocery store owner to open it and them surprisingly offer plastic cups, relaxing in the park playing cards chatting about life and drinking the wine were common occurrences during my time in France. On the train, in the park, at the café or at my host families house, I would journal about what I had learned, what I missed about home, what I wanted to do next. Each day left me a new perspective on living in the moment and appreciating the fleeting time left in this amazing country.

Anytime I take the time to embrace the people, conversation and the setting surrounding me, I think of France and the mindset I had at that time. Selfishly, I refrained from researching the tragedy because I was afraid my favorite places were destroyed. My memories of France are light and airy, devoid of any worries of responsibilities or my future. Let me re-iterate that this is certainly selfish, but I was scared to read about the injustice and add weight to those memories… Thinking about how our country felt after 9/11, I can only imagine the affect to such a passionate set of people as the French and those who visit Paris.

Eventually I pulled up my phone and did search for news about the bombings and shootings in Paris... It did break my heart. I can only imagine the horror, much like I can only imagine what it was like in New York on September 11^th, or in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. I’ve never been directly impacted by such horrific events, but I do see the ripple effect. The problem is, there are so many horrific events throughout the years and increasingly, it seems, these days, why do we ever raise our flag all the way? In many cities, these types of attacks are daily occurrences. Why does our world suck so much?

At one time I had heard they may call the latest generation the “post everything” generation because they are post World War II, post the internet, post columbine, post 9/11. While the internet is great, the theme is that they are at “the tail end of a century of war and revolution” (as Nicholas Handler said in the article) two were horrible, awful things that shouldn’t be forgotten. However, these horrible, no good, (Can I add frightening?), very bad things just keep getting piled on with other horrible, no good, frightening, very bad things, WTF?! Even if it’s unlikely, these attacks in Paris could possibly kick off a world war III, which is terrifying.

For a sliver of hope, there are also random acts of kindness in the world… Once, I was having tea/lunch with two of my good friends in Dublin, Texas and a couple of seasoned women thought we were sweet and unexpectedly covered the cost of our lunch. Another time, a boy in college went out of his way to hold a door open for me (it felt kind and helpful, not anti-feminist;). I know of many occasions when my husband has stopped to help a stranger in need on the side of the road; he’s obvi a better person than I am.

So, in an effort to do my small part to battle the sadness in the wake of the bombings in Paris, I will try to do something kind for a stranger and I will reflect on my life and journal like a girl on a train heading on a new adventure.  #PrayForParis

#takenwithafilmcamera

 

 

Commutes

So, it takes me about 30 minutes to drive to work each morning.

As far as daily voyages go, this is pretty unimpressive — the average American work commute is a shade over 25 minutes, and, honestly, I could probably knock five minutes off my time if I actually allowed myself to drive like the average American. It's not the shortest commute I've ever had (I spent two years at a blissful 12 minutes), but it's certainly not the worst (a hellacious 90-minute saga), and, by and large, I've learned to live with it, because the trek supplies me with the one thing I can't really get anywhere else.

Solitude.

I discovered this quite by accident, many morns ago. As it turns out, I start my sunrise journey at a bit of a drive-time Bermuda Triangle (7:35 AM) — my go-to sports station is just hitting a commercial break, my go-to classical station is about to play a march*, and the rest of Dallas' morning programming is essentially 12-year-olds with Christmas Day drum sets.

Despite this, I tried to make things work for a while. I really did. I'd play music off my phone, or dig an old CD out of the glovebox — Matchbox 20 live hits? Whatever, yes, fine, anything — but my heart was never really in it. After a few years of exceptionally half-assed singing and one disastrous stint with audio books, I realized I was just turning up the volume for the sake of the noise. I'd had enough. One day, I pulled the plug.

And at that moment, with the gentle hum of the car as backdrop, for the first time I was officially "Travis, table for one."

As someone who writes pseudo-frequently, hearing my own voice in my head is not an alien experience. I know what my mental messaging sounds like. But over time, I'd grown used to penning my tales at the office, or at an equally busy homestead - sometimes a bar. Usually a bar. More than zero times at a bar. And perceiving your mental-self mull over daily drama in a place like that is very different than true solitude — there are so many other sounds and sights to be had. You can hear yourself think, but with mild interference. It's like being able to hear the conversation from the group next to you at a party. You have to lean in a little if you don't want to miss anything.

But once you turn your car onto the tollway/highway/freeway/expressway each morning, and you mute the distractions, you've no choice but to be a pretty rapt audience to yourself. You'd be surprised what you might learn. Or not. Honestly, it depends on the day. Sometimes, I'm a little appalled how boring I am. I should read more. I digress.

So why does this matter to the millennial? Aren't we the generation that wants walkable neighborhoods and shorter commutes? I thought we wanted dense living, where the office is a step away from the home, with some gastropubs and a pizza joint squished betwixt.

Truth told, I do want that. Or at least most of it. I'd save money on gas (but waste it on pizza), and I'd welcome the exercise of walking or biking right up to my cubicle. But at the same time, I realize I'd lose something there — I'd forgo that hour (30 minutes each way) where I can't look at my phone, can't really talk to another human, can't check my email, can't troll on Facebook, can't do really much of anything but sit and hear myself think.

Charting out my mental states during the morning commute.

You're going to tell me I can do that at home. You don't need a commute to be silently introspective, you say. But you know what's a tough sell? Coming home from work, kissing the wife, and telling her to hold my smartphone while I sit and stare at the wall for an hour. That won't work. I hope it won't work. I'm a little concerned if it works. And don't tell me this is what the shower is for — it takes me, like, four minutes to shower. My mental self hasn't even gotten through the preamble yet.** Brain Travis is long-winded.

Problem is, every other minute of my day is occupied by A) work obligations, B) home obligations, or C) mobile device connectivity. This is the millennial curse — we are always needed and always available. A brief commute is great, but isn't it just a shorter route from one hyper-connected spot to the next? Aren't we just trying to get to distractions faster?  

Trust me, I'm not high-fiving myself over this. I wish there another option. But as far as I can tell, the Fortress of Solitude lists just one address. When I run, I run with headphones on, and my brain is rattling around in my skull.*** Not conducive to deep thinking. When I walk the dog, I see neighbors who ask me about my day. Breaks the flow. No matter where I turn, my position has been surrounded. I've been hopelessly overrun by on-demand society.

As it turns out - and as horribly baby-boomer as this sounds - the car, and the commute I use it for, is my last solitary frontier. I can't divorce my daily drive. This is the very definition of Stockholm Syndrome. I know this. And yet I recognize I truly would struggle to adjust without that outlet. I can't find anything else that will do. I'm all ears for suggestions.

Just don't try and reach me between 7:30 and 8 AM.

*-I hate marches. I swear John Philip Sousa composed the same piece 200 times. The world is a monstrous place.
**-Your best ideas don't come in the shower - your half-baked ones do.
***-I run like I'm on stilts. No, like a duck on stilts. Why am I telling you this?

Dreams

So, when I was a little boy, I wanted to be an astronaut. 

It's actually more accurate to say I wanted to be a starfighter pilot. Look — I grew up on Star Wars and Top Gun, and of the two, the galaxy far, far away seemed less rife with sexual tension, which is appealing to a Catholic 8-year-old boy. And all spaceships, by an amateur analysis, utilized my three favorite things: lasers, explosions, and robotics. I was irrevocably hooked. 

That's me in the bottom right, around the age I became obsessed with space. No, I do not

know what I was looking at when this what shot. It's clearly gross.

Still am, truth told. Time has never worn down that stone. What did change, however, was my understanding of what being an astronaut actually required. Turns out that roguish charm, courage under fire, and shaggy hair represented approximately six percent of the ideal astronaut resume. The remaining 94 percent was primarily math-based. Astrophysics, trigonometry, long division. You know. The tricky stuff.

This was discouraging, as I was already a notably poor math student and well on my way to remedial courses as a high school freshman. I could read and write well enough, but when something needed numbers, I was alphabet soup — missing all the key ingredients. At some point around age 15, with this self-awareness in full bloom, I felt the dream start to die on the vine. You're never going to be an astronaut, Brain Travis said, unless NASA is adding stenographers to crews. Heart Travis listened. 

By 16, I was pumping out so much copy for the school paper that I really didn't have time for visiting hours when my childhood dream went on life support. Starvation, the doctors said. I wasn't feeding the passion, and it was wasting away. Predictably, at some point during my sophomore year, my astronaut dream flatlined. There was no funeral. Just a pine box and a hole.

And there it lay for a long time, buried in a shallow and fallow grave in the back of my mind, alongside the other myriad failures of youth — Here Lies Poor Grades, In Loving Memory-Past Romance, RIP: Missed Opportunities. I think we all carry those little cemeteries around with us, holding our breath as we hurry by them in hopes that we don't somehow resurrect the vulnerabilities we banished there. I tread more cautiously than most. This is surely why I hate zombie films. 

But we millennials — or at least the subset of the millennials that are just now hitting their early 30s, like I am — are almost genetically predisposed to mental necromancy. We've lived just long enough to have a "history", a past that both empowers and encumbers us. It's forged through youthful trial-and-error. On the other hand, we've likely got decades of wondering and wandering ahead of us, and have yet to solve the vexing riddle of fulfilling interior and exterior expectations.

Put another way, we're still not exactly sure what we want to do with ourselves, but we've finally got a pretty good idea what we can't. 

American society has devised countless play-on-word generalities for those of us embarking on our fourth decade of duty — Dirty 30s, amiright?! — but, to me, we're the true 'tweeners. We're too old to be young and dumb, and too young to be old and wise, so we sit bitch, uncomfortably mashed between the sharp elbows of our precocious youngers and the man-spread knees of our respected elders. It's sweaty and stuffy and we're not sure the seat belt works. 

It's not really an identity crisis — it's actually the frigid, forgotten void between one and the next. The late German-American psychologist Erik Erikson, who actually invented the term "identity crisis", broke down personal progression into eight stages that cover the human lifespan from bumper to bumper. They're all fascinating, but I'm particularly focused on two: Intimacy vs. Isolation, and Generativity vs. Stagnation. Or, more accurately, the connective tissue that holds those two stages together. 

That first stage, Intimacy vs. Isolation, centers around our ability (or inability) to build lasting, loving relationships and support structures. It ranges, roughly, from age 18 to 35. The next stage, Generativity vs. Stagnation, gives us a sense of fulfillment (or longing) as we live out our life choices, for better or worse. This stage stretches from age 35 to your early 60s. 

That little gap? Right there at age 35, as we transition out of one stage and into the next? That's the chasm I'm talking about, and that is what, inevitably, leads us back to dreams, and to me staring wistfully up at the moon before I close the shutters each night. 

This part of our lives — this crucial 2-to-5 year span that we suddenly find ourselves thrust into — is essentially the five minutes you spend walking the house before you leave for a long road trip. Did you get everything? Do you have clean underwear? Where is your toothbrush? Don't miss your phone charger. Take a good, long look around, because once you set the alarm and walk out the front door, anything you missed in the final sweep has officially become "forgotten". And you have to live with that.

You have to live with that. That thought runs through my head, over and over, like a Carly Rae Jepsen lyric — this unwelcome house guest that just won't leave. And it drags me, with my heels dug in and teeth clenched, back to the burial grounds of dreams long past — to a few whims I'd long since forgotten, but mostly to passions I'd never truly been able to.     

This is why I stare at the moon at night. Not because I'm planning my trip there.

But to decide whether or not I can live with leaving it behind. 

So, I've been married for 6 months...

So, I've been married 6 months and on our six-month-versary we walked in the Atlanta Pride parade! 

As a human, I believe strongly in the concept of being your whole self, whomever that may be. Millennial's are gaining the reputation as one of the most tolerant generations, we have the largest percentage, per generation (according to this Pew Research study) to support gay rights. This study also shows that millennials are a more ethnically diverse generation, with it growing in generations behind us. They are less likely to be polarized in their views on religion and politics. This all makes me believe that change in the right direction will continue. The decision from the supreme court makes only solidified my excitement to be married to my husband. Now, I am part of a community of people who, in many cases, have shown me what a true partnership looks like. Marriage is a partnership, and it always bothered me that they have been used so exclusively in the past.


Oh my, is Lucas a wonderful partner. I've spent much of my adult life working to be a strong, independant woman who doesn't need a man, but wants a partner. I certainly found it in Lucas. I am still in awe about how great it is to have. I know we're still in the honeymoon phase, but I feel so lucky. He does the little things, like help get things done that I hate getting done and start a project to re-vamp the yard because he knows how much the mosquitos attack me (maybe he's tired of hearing me complain after I choose to sit outside knowing they are terrible, but it's still nice :). He also does the big things, like support me when I am trying to make tough decisions about my career, and include me when he's doing the same.

When we got engaged, my very insightful friend (MVIF) explained it well, "Isn't it awkward being so formal with someone you're so informal with?" It was, but then Lucas and I walked down the mountain together, after the proposal, and started telling eachother everything we'd been keeping a secret for the last few months. Next came wedding planning. We had an Obnoxious Yet Tasteful Texan Wedding*(see Mick Jagger quote below). We jumped on the train of personalized ceremonies, and we wanted our guests to feel like they had come to "our wedding" and felt a valuable part of our ceremony and celebration.   

Even though there are articles out there about how millennials just want money or gift cards, Lucas and I are on the other end of the spectrum. We welcomed "off-registry" gifts and I wanted fancy china to use at dinner parties... A common theme in my childhood home was, use the china! We used it whenever we felt the occasion was special enough, even if we weren't wearing our "sunday best." We intend to do the same. My husband is a minimalist, so he had no interest in china, but he supports the good food he gets to eat at these dinner parties. He's accepted my generally over-the-top approach to all things in life with open arms. Mick Jagger said it best, *"Anything worth doing, is worth over-doing" (a life pholosophy I've adopted from my lesbian twin (MLT). 

In our 6 months of marriage, we have eased our way back into the normal hussle and bussle of life, our gifts have become part of our every day routines and we have tried to maintain a steady stream of Lucas + Christine time and friend time. Nothing too ground breaking, but I must say, I like being married to Lucas. We are lucky. We don't have to deal with unsupportive families; we never had to worry about other people's religious or political views possibly ruinning our wedding day or our relationships with our friends and family. Nor have we had to make the decision to not be legally married because of state legislation. We just had to worry about the weather, and that turned out beautifully.

Happy Six-Month-Versary to us! 
Side note: I hope you all celebrate the little stuff.  Life is too short and too good to wait around for the big stuff. Use the china, light a candle or a sparkler or do whatever makes you happy whenever something you feel is substantial happens. Take a moment to appreciate the moment! (thanks MVIF).