The Life Lesson I Learned at My First Hindu Wedding

This weekend, my boyfriend and I attended a Hindu wedding ceremony.

On Friday night, we went to the Vedic ceremony at the Hindu Sabha Temple. The room was full of circular tables for the guests to sit at and witness the marriage of the bride and groom.

My boyfriend and I stood at the back of the room, carefully contemplating which table to occupy. I saw one table that was empty and offered a great view because it was close to the front. I pointed to it and we headed over.

We sat down, and the ceremony began shortly after. But as a first-timer, I was so excited to see the ceremony that we moved a few seats over to get a better view. When I moved, I heard some huffing and puffing going on behind me. I turned my head to see that I was now in the way of a little girl’s view. The girl, about 11, gave me a series of dirty looks, making it obvious that she was annoyed with me.

At first, I felt bad for impeding her ability to see, but as she continued to huff and puff, obviously trying to make a point, I was reminded of a book I read in grade eight.

The book was called The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens by Sean Covey. One of the seven habits that stuck with me throughout the years was how to be proactive instead of reactive. Essentially, had she had read the book, she would have known that in this case, rather than huffing and puffing and readying herself to blow a house down, she should’ve simply got up and switched seats.

With this reminder, I was able to watch the bride and groom perform the rites and marry each other-guilt free. My boyfriend and I even joked about it; every time we shifted in our seats we looked at each other, as if we feared for our lives and listened for her loud, exhaustive sighs.

The second night of the wedding was the reception. It took place in a beautiful banquet hall. After dinner and a few speeches, the DJ asked the crowd if we were ready to party, to which everyone in the room replied a roaring yes. But when the music started, I was reminded of just how much my boyfriend hates dancing.

Despite being ready to fly over to the dance floor, my date needed a couple drinks in his system before busting his moves. I learned very early on in our relationship that this is just how he is.

I was annoyed. I sat there wondering when on earth he was going to be ready, because I sure was.

“Go dance,” he suggested. I rolled my eyes. “By myself?” I shot back.

Just as I was about to huff and puff, I remembered the little girl from the night before. Just as fast as I was able to diagnose the problem of her being reactive instead of proactive, I was able to realize that I was being reactive, too.

I asked myself, “Are you upset that Renaldo isn’t dancing? Or are you upset because you’re not dancing?”

Boom.

The issue the first night was that the little girl’s view had been blocked. Rather than get up and move to one of the many empty seats, she made a commotion to get our attention and hope that we would pity her and unblock her view.

The issue the second night was that I was ready to dance and my partner wasn’t. And so I too, sat there, getting ready to huff and puff, hoping he’d feel bad for me and get up and dance. But what type of dancing would that be?

On that second night, I headed over to the dance floor. I didn’t know anyone, but I knew how to dance. So I did. And after a few more drinks, he came and joined me and we danced together.

So many times, our emotions cloud our ability to identify the real issue. We’re unable to see what it is that’s really bothering us. And more importantly, we’re unable to see that the solution lies within us, and certainly within our control.

In both cases, the solution, and the lesson, was the same.

Sometimes, all you have to do is get up and move.

The Unexpected Lesson I Learned at My First Rave

This past weekend, I learned a very valuable lesson about perspective. And accountability.

It came at an unexpected time, in an even more unexpected place: Beach Club Fest 2015.

Thousands of Toronto’s hottest party animals descended on Muzik Nightclub Saturday afternoon for an all-day, all-night party. Women wearing bikinis and stilettos walked past muscular, shirtless men.

There I was in the midst of it all, wondering what I had been doing there. I had never been into electronic dance music, but when my two friends insisted I would have a good time, I felt compelled to accept the invite.

I lay there in my yellow bikini under a tree, taking in the sun. I realized a long time ago that I have an abnormal obsession and love for the feeling of the sun on my skin, and not for the tan. I just love feeling the warmth of the sun on me. So much so that whenever the sun got trapped in the big tree ahead of me, my smile turned upside down.

I had been laying there for about half an hour when I realized that the sun was diminishing. It was moving very gradually away from me and was almost completely hidden behind the tree.

My friends had suggested moving to the pool where there was more sun. But I insisted on staying where we were. I knew that after a short while, the sun would be back in the open sky and I would feel that warmth again.

Another half hour passed and the sun was still hiding behind the tree. While it had indeed moved, it still had a long way to go before it was out in the clear sky again. Fed up, my friends said, “Stephanie, there is sun at the pool, we just have to move there.”

The idea of getting up, gathering all my belongings, and trying to find comfort at the pool seemed daunting. But I wanted the warmth of the sun more than I wanted to stay where I was. And so I picked myself up, gathered my belongings, and walked over to the pool.

When we got to the pool, I couldn’t believe how warm it was there. The sun was directly on me! People were dancing. Heck, I was dancing. There were beach balls everywhere. But more importantly, there was sun. There wasn’t a cloud-or a tree-in sight.

I was crushed that I hadn’t moved here earlier. I could’ve been feeling the comfort of the sun all this time. Mid-dance move I asked myself what had been stopping me the whole time I was laying by the tree.

Truthfully, I just didn’t want to move. I was comfortable. I knew the sun was going to come back in due time. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to do anything. I was being lazy. I just wanted to lay there and feel the sun.

Then it hit me.

Constantly, easily, and unforgivingly do we make excuses for ourselves to stay in whatever situation we might be in at the time. We get comfortable, we tell ourselves it will happen later, or next time, when really, those are grounds for it, whatever it might be, to not happen at all.

How could I have possibly laid there under that tree for almost an hour waiting for the sun to come back when there was sun elsewhere the entire time? It’s like I was standing in a dark room complaining there was no light and there had been a switch in front of me the whole time. All I had to do was reach for it.

That tree had represented every piece of adversity I had ever faced. It represented the word no. It represented every excuse I had ever made for myself, and every excuse I made for others.

We get so familiar with the darkness that we forget what the warmth of light feels like. We forget how to remind ourselves to look elsewhere when our current circumstance isn't good enough for us. We forget what good enough is.

It is so easy to stumble across mediocrity, unhappiness, or complacency. It’s so easy to fall into a rut and decorate it and call it home. But just because it’s easy doesn’t mean it’s okay.

This weekend I learned that in life, there is only so much sunlight before the darkness comes. And you’re going to want as much of it as you can get, not only because it feels good but because you deserve it. You have to be willing to get up and move sometimes.

As I stood there on the side of the pool, looking all around me and feeling kissed by the sun, I learned two very valuable lessons. The first is that if you want it, whatever it might be, you have to go after it. The second is that the music of life really isn't so bad once you start dancing.

Asking (and Answering) This Simple Question Can Really Change Your Life

When I moved into my sister’s room almost a year ago, I hadn’t done much to personalize the space other than smother the walls in posters and paintings I had brought with me from my old room.

After sitting in it for months and months trying to decide what the space was missing, I came to the conclusion that a fresh coat of paint was just what it needed.

I knew that choosing the paint color would be the first hurdle because the last time I painted my room I spent $75.00 on paint, and an entire day painting only for the walls to go not even one shade darker than what they were before. But I knew the wonders a change of scenery could do for my aching psyche that had been promised an update for the new year.

So I called my two friends, Rebekah and Jasmine, and they agreed to help me get the job done.

I went in there with a pretty clear picture of what I wanted in my head. I wanted some sort of beige, not too light, not too dark.

But warm. The most important thing was that the color be warm.

But as I stood in the paint section of Home Depot, with about 1000 different shades in front of me, it became increasingly difficult to stick to my original vision.

Rebekah and Jasmine looked diligently through each paint swatch, bringing them to me in hopes of approval, selling each color to me as if it were a car.

Rebekah, who I personally believed missed her calling to be on the HGTV network, talked about “tones” and “shades” and “accent walls” and stuff. Jasmine on the other hand simply kept saying, “What about this one?”

It seemed that the more they talked, the less I knew.

Half an hour passed by before I felt myself losing hope. I wanted to call off Operation Paint.

Until…

Jasmine and Rebekah were off to the side looking at another brand of paint, getting ready to collect a handful of swatches and pitch their ideas to me, yet again.

But in their absence, I decided to ask myself:

“What do I want?”

I looked at the wall of colors and picked up a swatch, looking directly at one color. It was called Sand Motif. It was nice. It was beige. It was dark but not too dark. And it was warm. I put it back down and looked at the wall again. I saw a color similar to the one I had just picked up and grabbed the swatch. It was 

Sand Motif again.

When the girls came back over to me, each with about 15 swatches in their hands, I said:

“Wait. I’m gonna look at the wall, and whatever color I see and like will be the color I choose.”

A silent two minutes passed by. The Jeopardy theme song played in my head for the entire time. My eyes passed by a few colors that I liked from a distance, but nothing enough to pick up.

I caught my eyes wandering back to the same swatch over and over again, and decided to pick it up.

Sand Motif.

I looked at the swatch silently. And as the seconds passed by, I felt myself falling more and more in love with the color.

“Guys. This is it. This is the color!” I exclaimed, not realizing how excited I really was to finally decide on a paint color.

“Are you sure?” Rebekah asked.

“I went back to it three times without even knowing it was the same swatch. This is it. I know it. I feel it,” I replied.

The three of us jumped up and down and gave each other some sloppy high fives before excitedly approaching the counter to order a gallon of paint.

The moral of the story is that sometimes, no matter where we are or what we’re doing, everyone will be telling us what to do and how to do it. It’s up to us, particularly in those instances to be able to step outside ourselves, turn everyone else’s voices down, or off completely, and turn ours all the way up and ask ourselves:

What do I want?

Even if they’re our best friends, it’s us that has to make the final call. Nevermind what they want. Nevermind what they want us to want. Nevermind what they think.

When we were all done painting and the girls left. I put my furniture back in its place. And when it came time to hang up my posters again, I only chose a few. Because for once, I wasn’t so concerned with covering things up, but perhaps more interested in baring it all.

See, when you follow your heart and you trust your instincts, you have nothing to cover up. Or maybe you do but you don’t even feel the need to. Because you know that maybe it isn’t right for Rebekah or Jasmine, maybe it isn’t right for anyone else in the world.

But it’s right for you.

And it makes you look around before you turn your light off at night.

Or smile at the uncrowded spaces that were once filled on your walls.

It makes you feel warm.    

When I was in high school, I knew I wanted to be a journalist. But when it came time to apply to university, I didn’t listen to myself and enrolled in the history program instead. It took me two years to find out how unhappy I could be. I should've stuck to my original vision.

I’ll never forget the day my aunt asked me,

“Stephanie, what do you want?”

The words seemed like they were in another language as I repeated them to myself.

When I asked myself what I wanted, the answer was journalism, just as the paint kept reappearing before my eyes. I didn’t know how at home I was until I entered my lecture that first day, the same way I didn’t know how much I loved the color until it was all over my walls, good enough without the posters and the paintings.

So what is it that you want?

Is it a new job? A new paint job? A new car? A new life?

Sit down and figure it out. Make your way there. It might take a lot; it might be a few minor adjustments. But if it’s a process of moving mountains, stone by stone will eventually get the job done.

Whatever the case is, I can make a personal promise to each and every person reading this right now that asking yourself what you want, and then actually going after it will change your life.

Don’t believe me?

Just watch. 

Single? Me Too. Here's Why.

If you’re reading this you’re either:

     A)     Single

     B)      In a relationship that you want to get out of

     C)      In a relationship you don’t want to get out of

     D)     Hoping to get a laugh at what the skinny bitch has to say

Luckily for you, I’ve got something for each category of reader.

Let me begin this brief statement by saying 2013 was a very good year for me. I survived two and a half break-ups, two get-back-togethers, and lots of awkward encounters in between without having to change my number. I’ve made a lot of progress this year.

After watching my sister’s boyfriend execute perhaps the most insanely romantic proposal I have ever witnessed on Christmas Eve (yeah, Christmas Eve, can you believe this guy?) I started to panic. After the whole proposal ordeal was over with, everyone in the room looked at me as if to say, “You’re next”, and then the look of “Ah, who are we kidding? You’ll never get married,” followed.

But after a few days of evading stares I felt were coming at me from all directions, including the Rosie the Riveter poster I’ve got hanging in my room, I came to the conclusion that no one was looking at me like that. Sure, they looked, but that’s not what they were saying to themselves in their head.

I just thought that they must have been saying those things.

The problem with single people is that as independent as we may be, a lot of us live our lives through the eyes of other people. We get insecure about the number of people we’ve slept with because of “reputation” and “etiquette”. We feel we should be in relationships because all of our friends have partners and we don’t want to be the third, fifth, or seventh wheel on a group outing. We don’t tell our parents where we are or who we’re with because we don’t want them to ask too many questions about Mr. or Miss Two Weeks, and they can’t remember anyone’s name anyway.

But 2013 taught me to fuck all of that.

I don’t usually swear in my blog posts in case a future employer ever reads these and thinks, “How preposterous! She can’t possibly think she can write for our esteemed publication with such a potty mouth!”

But 2013 also taught me to fuck all of that too.

For now at least, I might have to delete this post right before I graduate university so read it now.

Plus, I’m not blogging so much as I am reaching out to my readers to share with them this huge piece of wisdom that many of you already know but I want to reiterate because, well, that’s what I do.

And here it is.

In love, you must not fight the current.

I have always believed that our parents and our grandparents were able to commit because it was so easy for them. They just met someone and settled down and had kids and raised families and…died.

But it’s a different day and age.

We’re afraid to give our hearts to people because there are a lot of terrible things they can do with it. And we’re afraid to hold someone’s heart in our hands because chances are our hands are a bit shaky. But we give our hearts to people anyway in hope that they’ll do good things with it, and we take hearts knowing that we very well may not.

If you think about it, all of that comes down to one thing, and that one thing is not being ready for love.

This year I learned that the reason my sister has a ring on her left hand is because eight years ago she entered into a relationship and decided that she was ready for it. She was ready for the good, the bad, the ugly, the hurtful, the miscommunication, the high fives, the lies, the truths, the victories, the failures, the pain, the agony, the tears, the beginning, the middle and the end.

The reason my parents have been together for just a bit longer than I’ve been alive is because of the same reasons as well.

So when I sit and wonder, “Why am I single?” The answer is because I am not ready.

But the problem with single people is that we keep forcing ourselves to be ready everytime someone gets engaged. We keep forcing ourselves to be ready everytime we think we find “the one” in some party or trashy bar or crossing the street with us or at our workplace.

But we have to realize that who we meet is nothing without the timing of when we meet them.

The other day, while venting my love trials and tribulations to someone, they said one of the simplest and most profound things ever.

“Stephanie, whatever you think you’ve felt thus far cannot even compare to the love you will have and share with the person you will be with,” then she said, “I promise.”

I’m not sure if it was the statement itself or the promise at the end, but I felt that it was safe to believe her. I felt myself ease up at once upon hearing her remark, and I gave myself an apology in my head. It went something like this:

“Dear self, I’m really sorry for being such a douchebag. You’re still pretty young and you have a lot of life left to go and you really shouldn’t even be focusing on boys anyway. School is a lot more important. And a lot more expensive. You should go to the library and rent some books instead.”

In that instance, I found my peace. I had my aha! moment. I felt the way Tom Cruise must have felt when he jumped on the couch except the love that I had wasn’t for Katie Holmes (although she was great in Dawson’s Creek).

It was for me. Just…me.

The truth is, I have probably met the man of my dreams fourteen times over and over again. But he wasn’t the man of my dreams because not even my dreams had solidified themselves at that point, and certainly not even this point.

So what is the big frickin’ deal with not having a date to stupid Christmas parties? And why does it have to be even numbers when people wanna go out?

We don’t. And it doesn’t. It’s just the way our society is. And who can blame us for feeling a little rushed and giving in to the pressure at times?

No one. No one.

So until then, I march on. Alone, but certainly not lonely. And not looking for love, but looking for myself.

I think I’ve found her fourteen times over but not even the woman I will become has solidified herself.

And that’s the key.

Some people find out who they are and what they want a lot earlier than the rest of us. Like our parents and our grandparents, who quite frankly had no choice, hence the marriages and baby-making at like, sixteen. Others need a lot more experience, encounters, time with others, and especially time alone to decide that.

So don’t feel like you need a passenger when you know your sports car only has room for the driver. Especially if you’re not ready to upgrade to a two-passenger vehicle, let alone a family van. Sure other cars on the road might be at full capacity, but you’re on the freeway.

And until you reach your destination, or the area signs tell you to slow down, change lanes, exit here or there, or pick up that hitchhiker, just ride the open road; enjoy the scenic route.

And no matter what you do, don’t fight that current. It's one of the only things that will get you to where you need to be.

The Power of Inspiration

What an amazing weekend I had.

Today, I went and explored different parts of the beautiful city of Toronto. Something I should, and always promise to do more often, but never actually get around to it. I went on a “date”, if you will. I took the subway because it was nice outside, and abandoned my usual North American menu for food, and dined at a Pakistani restaurant instead. So willing was I, that I had no say in the food that was ordered, I just perused the menu.

I was amazed at how good the food was, and simultaneously disappointed that I had never tried it before. But I know better than to cry over the illusion of wasted time. After that, we watched the sun set over the Toronto skyline, and listened to whatever song would play next.

Last night, I spent the night with my sister at our usual Saturday night spot. A friend from high school came up to me. I see her around town sometimes, but we don’t stop and share the conversations we used to when we would both arrive at school early in the morning. She mentioned my blog, and let me know that she had been tuned in to it a lot lately after finding out that I had one. She told me that one post especially had helped her through a tough time, and that I should keep writing.

I had this exchange in mind when I saw a girl there who I owed an apology to for being catty with over a guy. I walked right up to her, apologized, and she smiled at me and said “it’s okay.” She even apologized to me too, for I have no idea what, but I raised my drink to her, and we went on with our night.

The night before that, perhaps the greatest night of my entire weekend, was spent at my good friend Sarah’s house. Every month, she has these amazing get-togethers. It is a room full of about 30 great, open, and opinionated minds, good music, and even better times. Despite the space being small, each area has its own destiny. The kitchen is usually where the meet and greets happen. The living room is for video games and dancing. The dining room is usually for board games, and if there is no board game set up then a heated debate must be going on, as it was on this day. And then there are the stairs, for people who are having deep and philosophical conversations.

I usually find myself on the stairs. Some of my greatest conversations take place on the stairs. And on this night, one of the greatest conversations I have ever had in my life took place.

I have a friend named Talia. In high school, I watched her write her heart out. She volunteered with all sorts of organizations, and her essays were always the ones the teachers used as the rubric. Needless to say, as a writer, I regard Talia with the highest and the utmost respect, so the things she said to me on this night had a special place in my heart. Talia said to me:

“I watched you start your blog. You wrote for 5 days straight on some very important topics. These weren’t rushed pieces; they were well-written, and I appreciate something that’s well-written more than I appreciate something that’s interesting. Your pieces were both.”

And then she said this:

“At first, I felt jealous. But then I thought, don’t be jealous, be inspired. And I started writing again.”

Tears fell from my eyes, but they really came from my heart. She continued on to tell me that my future was bright, that I was going places, and that I was a great writer. I felt, in that moment, that not only had I accomplished the only mission I have ever really had as a writer; to inspire, but that I was on my way. 

Everything, everyone, every single landmark I pass by is telling me that I am on my way. I have never in my life been so fulfilled, so happy, and so proud of myself, than I am right now.

When I entered Sarah’s house, my friend, my peer, Alexa said “Hello my favorite blogger!” Truthfully, I have never thought of myself as a blogger, and have surely never been called a blogger. I shied away from the term because I felt if I had imposed it on myself it would be conceited. But I left that place that night with a hunger to claim my place in this creative revolution that is taking place. More importantly, I left there with a plate full of proof in front of me that I was speaking through my writing, and people were listening.

That night, this weekend, taught me a lot about how life works.

Firstly, I learned that there are two things that come with forgiveness. The first is the forgiveness that is granted to you when you honestly seek it out, regardless of whether the person accepts your apology. 

Forgiveness isn’t about being forgiven; it’s about having the humility to ask for it. 

The second thing that comes with it is the freedom that is granted to you, within yourself, when you forgive yourself enough to ask for forgiveness. I didn’t have to apologize to this girl. We had no relationship, I had no obligation to her, and my life would have gone on without a hitch had I not apologized. But when I thought about what my friend from high school had said to me, and all the wonderful things people had said about me the night before, I felt I owed it to them to be the person they believed I could be; the person I was. And more importantly, I owed it to myself. I wanted all of my freedom; not just some.

The other thing I learned was the power of inspiration. Friday proved that great things happen when great people come together, and cumulative greatness happens through individual greatness. The amount of compliments, words, and support that was generated in the few hours Sarah’s guests spent together that night was enough to start a revolution; one I believe each of us already belong to, one that will continue to grow exponentially. Everyone took something home that night. Maybe it was a memory, maybe it was a lesson, or a new piece of knowledge, but for a lot of us, it was inspiration. When Talia said what she said to me about being inspired, I, in turn, was inspired.  

Inspiration is regenerative. It recycles itself through the hearts and the minds it resides in, and continues to spread through the hearts and minds it opens.

So to you, I say, open your heart and open your mind. Allow yourself to be changed by the different people you meet, greet, and talk to, the experiences you have and don’t have, and all that unfolds throughout your days. Be not the same person that you were today tomorrow, be a better, more beautiful, more radiant you. In turn, you will have a better, more beautiful, more radiant life.

And I promise you, you absolutely deserve it.

Coping with Change

A former co-worker of mine once gave each of the employees a book called “Who Moved My Cheese?” It was no longer than one hundred pages, and boasted all sorts of awards it had won on the cover, the back, and the index. Despite having the book for a few weeks, I hadn’t read it until one day I found myself on the brink of death (boredom).

As I turned each page, I found myself totally able to relate to the two main characters; two mice named Hem and Haw. The book was a narrative of the experience the mice had in making sure they were fed and able to have enough cheese to last them during the hard times. Essentially, it was a metaphor for humans having to ensure we are employed, happy, tending to our goals, and so on and so forth.

One mouse fought tirelessly, even when they stumbled upon a chamber with what seemed to be endless cheese, to make sure they had even more, as the cheese in the chamber would eventually run out. The other mouse, however, didn’t think long term. Instead, he focused on relaxing and enjoying the abundance of cheese that was there for him, thinking it would renew itself.

But one day, the cheese ran out.

The moral of the story was that we always have to prepare to have nothing at all, even if we have it all in that moment. The story set out to illustrate the importance of being able to adapt to changing circumstances; a lesson I found myself learning, especially in recent months.

How do we deal with change?

A few weeks ago, I reached my wits end with my employer. I felt myself unable to enjoy my work experience, despite being surrounded by a great group of co-workers. I had felt this way for a while, but tortured myself with the idea that “I needed the money”. While this was true, one day I noticed myself preferring to be poor instead of working for this employer anymore. When I recognized that thought, I knew it was time to go.

I wrote my resignation letter in absolute confidence despite having no back-up plan, just a list of places I had in mind that I could flee to in refuge. Immediately after quitting, I reached out to someone that had recognized my personable skills at the place I had just left, and she set me up for an interview. Within one week of quitting, I had passed all the background checks, credit reports, and lengthy interview process, and was hired. I started the week after, and began settling into my new work environment. Interestingly enough, I was doing less work here and making twice the money.

We deal with change by knowing when to walk away.

And the truth is; we walk away when we’re ready. There is no such thing as “overstaying”. Whether it is a relationship you think is becoming toxic, or a job you think you need to leave, you stay as long as you can and as long as you have to, before you either find a way out or reach your wits end, like I did.

The most important thing about leaving at the precise moment you decide to, is how things will work out for you when you are true to yourself. If you’re still there, it’s because you can still handle it. It’s kind of like a kettle, your body, mind, and spirit, might be whistling to you, and perhaps even growing louder progressively. But until it gets to that final, high-pitched whistle you can’t help but hear, you’ve still got work to do.

Keep in mind that things always work out. I’ve said this time and time again in my blog posts, because it is one of the governing philosophies of life, if you really and truly believe in it, and especially if you really and truly work hard.

I know that even in starting this new job, maybe after a couple months, a couple years, I might find it unbearable. That’s just my sign that it is time for change. When I can no longer look myself in the mirror, or fall asleep at night, I will know it’s time to leave. Until then, I have work to do.

We tend to set expectations. We often assign time limits to things; everything from how long it will take us to get Downtown to marriage. When really, we change, grow, and evolve with each passing moment. What was right for us when we started might not be right for us when we get to the halfway mark. But we’re so focused on getting to the finish line that we end up at the wrong one.

This also happened in my university career. I spent roughly $13,000 acquiring the degree I thought I wanted in history. But after my second year, I felt unfulfilled, dissatisfied, and the inescapable feeling of sheer unhappiness. It was when I couldn’t sleep at night knowing I would be unhappy with my career choice for the rest of my life that I decided to switch into journalism. Now, the only thing more exciting than being able to fall asleep is waking up in the morning.

If you don’t know yourself well enough to catch yourself in moments like these, furthermore, if you don’t respect yourself well enough to take whatever loss you may have acquired at the time (for me it was the $13,000 and the two years I spent in school already), how will you ever get what you really and truly want out of this life?

Check in with yourself. See where your head is at. More importantly, see where your heart is at. If they’re not in the same place, you’ve got to change something. It could be finding a new partner, it could mean finding yourself. Pay attention to your needs. Recognize that they may change from day to day, year to year, or decade to decade.

Most importantly, stay hungry. If you have a healthy hunger for happiness, paired with the ability to recognize the road you have to take to get there; you’ll find your cheese.