Day 271

LeeLoo, the family dog, is missing. Well actually, she’s not the family’s dog. She’s your brother’s dog, but she’s been your brother’s dog for about 11 years now. So really, if we’re all being honest, your weird, furry sister is missing for three days now.

You feel the familiar feelings of dead and unretreivable pets. You feel the familiar feelings of being so very far away and unable to contribute anything meaningful besides a few encouraging texts and lies of “I’m sure she’s fine, having the time of her life!” You feel the familiar feelings of God telling you that you are so not in control. Of anything.

But ultimately, this isn’t really about you. It’s about you’re brother. And his dog. And the way the world feels like an upturned snow globe today.

Tranlsation: Twenty-five is briefly living upside down with fake snow pouring down and then back up around you before you can ever get your footing. (Oh, it’s also living in a hard plastic dome that you don’t see until you bang your head into it. So, you know, be careful.)

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Day 252: August 20

You failed.

You set out to learn something new each day of your twenty-fifth year, recording the details for the world to know (even though no one asked for this information), and you didn’t do it. Well, I should say, you didn’t record the details as you promised, it’s clear, even if only to you, that you’ve done the learning part.

But you failed to report it. To name it. To translate it into a takeable, buzzfeed-like list. And this bothers you. You think you can still do it. You think that this failure somehow matters to a larger audience. You’re thinking, yes, but…

Yes, but I can still piece it together.

Yes, but I can look at my instagram, my twitter, my facebook, and my email.

Yes, but I can get the details together. I can finish this project. I can catch up on over 200 days of living and learning and wrap it all up in the next 100.

Yes, but why?

Seriously, Dude. What’s your deal here? What is it you’re really learning from the day-to-day operations of your quiet, albeit lovely, life that the world needs to know?

Day 28: January 8

Go back to work after a long, long break. It’s exhausting. You’re exhausted. But! check your email at exactly the right time and finally sign up for Baltimore Print Studio’s letter press workshop for February. Get excited. And then get in bed, because Dude, you are still sick.

Translation: Twenty-five is letter pressing. Beautiful, nerdy letter pressing.

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Day 29: January 9

Take on a new responsibility at work: line up the graduates by shouting their name and telling them where to go. Realize, only as you begin shouting, that you are the worst at pronouncing strangers’ names. Try to compensate by saying, “He-blah-ble-blah over here! And I’m sorry. Really sorry. Don’t worry, I don’t call the names on stage. And congratulations!”

Day 26: January 6

It’s Sunday; get your butt out of bed. Seriously, get up. Get dressed for church. Put real effort in, and by that I mean you can still wear jeans, but maybe wear boots that don’t have massive holes in the heels (when are you going to let those shoes die by the way?).

Realize, as you’re getting into your car, that there’s this whole “freezing rain” situation. You don’t really know what this entails (I mean, you can guess), but your neighbor spots you slipping and sliding just walking and suggests that maybe you pray from home today. Maybe freezing rain is no joke.

Spend your day making books and cooking something southern for the after Christmas party you’re hosting tonight. (You should have started these books before you got the flu. It’s really difficult to finish these with zero energy.)

Translation: Twenty-five is learning how to handle winter and finding another pair of black boots that won’t let ice come in contact with your stocking-feet. (Those are related goals). It’s also endeavoring to be the kind of person that not only thinks of great gifts, but also the kind of person that executes them on time. Stop being the girl that starts all presents with, “So what happened was…”

Day 22: January 2

Stay in bed. Or on the couch. Or on the cold floor between the living room and your bedroom. Because the dusty wood feels good on your feverish face.

Oh, and clean your floor. You’ve really fallen down on the job (pun very much intended) lately. Where’s your OCD-perfectionist-type-A persona been hiding?

Don’t admit you have the flu just yet. Tell people it’s some kind of cold or something. But you’re still fine for the party you hosting on Sunday.

Translation:Twenty-five is sleeping on the floor. And being concerned about this only as it relates to your housekeeping habits rather than its larger implications of your life choices.