Fell asleep, woke up on top of the world.
Growing up, I was always the girl who went right if you told me to go left. Modestly I enjoyed watching the world squirm with aggravation over my manipulated confusion of a structured environment with a form of North Korean dictatorship. Naturally, this desire to revoke any means of conformity landed me on Santa’s naughty list more frequently then my parents would like to admit.
I detest the idea of being labeled a rebellious “black sheep”. Subjectively, I was the vibrant pink unicorn with a golden razor-sharp glitter horn on a path of destruction, and I loved every minute of it. While I might have been popular amongst my peers, I was relatively loathed by any means of authority, thus adding to the excitement. Dually noted, my term of destruction should not be confused with tangible destruction; I wasn’t killing hamsters and blogging about it, but I thoroughly enjoyed creating a ruse of external chaos before I dotted my i’s and crossed my t’s. I was simply high off life, and saw rule abiding behaviors as a piercing cry of mediocrity.
When I was 18 years old and fresh out of high school, I impulsively made the bold choice to move out of the safety net of my parent’s house and get an apartment with my boyfriend. We had known each other for a few years, and had casually dated in the past. Our rekindled romance grew with the fierce intensity of an Arizona wildfire. Naturally, this didn’t thrill my parents, but my confidence overshadowed any negative commentary. Adapting to the dynamics of independence was similar to learning how to swim by jumping in the deep end of the pool. The first six months of rent payments, grocery store dashes, and Ikea trips nearly drowned me in 10 feet of stress. I had no clue how much financial responsibility I had invited into my young adult life. With failure not being an option, I quickly reformed my teenage persona from lazy sleep-in Sundays into a bargain shopping, breakfast-lunch-dinner cooking, 45 hour a week working, happy homemaker. I learned more about myself in the five years that followed the relationship then I could of ever dreamed possible.
Today, I know more then I did yesterday, yet I wouldn’t change anything about my past, if I was given a second chance. This cognitive decision making process is our ability to uniquely identify ourselves, and ultimately make our mark in the warm pavement of history. Your actions, words, movement, and efforts are permanently inscribed into your personal little black book of life. Some people choose to be mild participators in the society, and follow cookie-cutter regulations for what they think they should do, instead of what they actually want to do.
I cherish every vivid tearful moment, as much as I do the uncontrollable fits of pure happiness, because without the ying, there is no yang. You can never learn to appreciate the highest of the highs, without the lowest of the lows. Personally, I would rather suffer the consequences of a million mistakes due to cause & effect of creating my own destiny, then dwell in the dreary abbess of bland, lethargic, robotic actions. I’ve had an amazing experience thus far, crafting the blueprint to my unique roller coaster life. I’m proud to say I’ve made mistakes; yet equally grateful to hold no regrets. Moments spent drinking champagne under the Eiffel tower in Paris, racing jet skis in crystal blue water in Puerto Rico, or dancing on the tables of every nightclub in the Meatpacking District are things ill always recollect with a smile; but knowing I singlehandedly created my destiny is superior to the rolodex of excitement I have stored in my memory.
I’ve learned that the spontaneous moments are usually the best, negativity is contagious, love is eternal, and karma is real. Always hold yourself in the highest regards; the world will only value you as high as you value yourself.
“An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.” – Oscar Wilde
