Reprise & Revival

I started a blog once, a few years ago during the insanity of my final semester of undergrad. I only wrote one post. Consider this a reprise & a revival of my words on wanderlust and waiting tables. Maybe it's aimless but I certainly have an affinity for wandering lost in the wilderness.

Since my last, first blog post I've wandered my way through six more countries and a few more years of my early 20s. I'm still lost, still wandering, still fighting the good fight between the insanity of my need for a plan, for success, for order & the little free bird in my heart that says pack your bags, again, girl. Get lost. 

It is a clash of free wills -- both are mine. I feel the same clash when I attempt to make a choice between the mountains and the ocean. How will I ever choose? Consider these words my field notes in an attempt to decide. Or better yet, a hope to find both.

_________________________________________________

It has been 186 days since my last trip through customs. It has been 84 days since my last job interview. At 23 years old and I have 103 rejection letters and eleven gleaming passport stamps to my name. I remain optimistic that someday I'll have 103 stamps and eleven job offers.

 Despite being all too familiar with the sting of pursuing what many remind me is a “dying occupation in a suffocating economy,” I want the job. I know that if I dedicate enough time, I will get my shot. That’s where I find my passion – in the never ending gamble of my so-called career in journalism. To those who live it, it is more than a career; it is a chance to tell a story, to influence someone else to give a damn. It's going to happen for me. I am going to see the world & write home about it. You'll be hearing from me, from the road less traveled by.

Wish you were here,

Sierra

___________________________________________________

The first & last blog post of "Making and breaking plans..."

November 19, 2010

100 Days of Insanity

In the past year or so, I have learned that I can change things. And so I have. I'm right in the middle of my last year of undergrad and I can hardly decided to celebrate or retreat. But it will be an adventure and so these are my stories... about how desperate I am to get it right.

Here's what I'm thinking... What was I thinking? I do this to myself; make myself crazy with these schedules and to-do lists that leave little room for sleep or sane thoughts. But it's like a drug. My Type A soul fiends for planning, organizing, color-coding and only the busiest days. I push myself to the brink every time, and when I'm right on that edge, about to snap, I stand there cursing myself for over committing and over scheduling. Oh, and procrastinating like there is no tomorrow... or at least no deadlines tomorrow. But then what happens? I do it again. Every time. I'll never learn. I make myself crazy, but it is what it is. All this to say that I only have two weeks left in the most insane semester of my undergrad career. I really wouldn't recommend taking 21 credits. But ya, I'm doing the same thing next semester of course.

The last 100 days have been brutal. After a summer of serious emotional distress (you should have heard the playlists that I was living off of this summer... seriously menopausal), an internship, late nights waiting tables and taking three online classes, I drove my oh-so-Colorado blue Subaru across Kansas. It's I-70 for 24 hours to get back to western Pennsylvania. Begin senior year.

It feels like we were just getting our sylabi yesterday, yet here I am about to break for Thanksgiving. Haven't slept, haven't showered, haven't passed Chemistry... yet. Been a little busy. This semester has been deadline after deadline after article after column after layout after style sheet after deadline after deadline after Chemistry exam. Which of these does not belong? Right you are - to meet my graduation requirements I signed my blonde little head up for Chemistry 121. First red flag. I can barely add here, people. Not my scene. You'll find no denial from these lips. I don't get it. I also do not care. But I had to care this semester. First exam... solid B+. Second exam... first failed test of my collegiate career. Shameful really. The pity party lasted for weeks and everyone was invited. In fact, if you'd still like to join - shoot me an RSVP and you're in. The gangs all here and we're singing sad, sad songs about the train wreck that is my science comprehension. Like I said, come on down.

Outside of Stewart Science Hall, I've felt a lot of love this semester from the 4th floor of the Department of Communication. Finally, some fellow right-brain users. And I mean correct-brained too. These are my people. We're a team. Up late, up early, living the Mac lab killing ourselves to be the best in a field that everyone on the outside keeps telling us is dying. Second red flag? Not sure. The things is, these outsiders forget that yes, a lot of the news is moving online, but NEWSFLASH (pun so very intended) world - the Internet didn't write those articles or interview those sources. We did. Real humans. The Internet has not killed the journalism star. I am going to do this. So let's hear it for the camaraderie of the 4th floor. You'll be seeing us... maybe in the loony bin... but some of us are going to be on Fox News and Time Magazine and ESPN. Big wigs, that's right. And I'm going to be making twice what my Chem professor is. No summers off I guess, but who needs summer vacation when you're jet setting around the world to cover only the most imperative issues of our time. Totally just got a head of myself. Which has the potential to be extremely embarrassing when I get my exam back in 20 minutes. It's make or break, this one. Gotta be careful about how often I put my foot in my mouth. I'm almost six feet tall... big feet... I could choke. #Jesustakethewheel.