A Pettiglio Christmas Eve Eve

Twas the night before, the night before Christmas and at Camp Pettiglio,

Every creature was stirring – just one day to go!

With two kids in college and two out on their own,

Time for traditions has shrunk with the kids fully grown.

But traditions are strong and family is tight,

So we’re doing what it takes to get it done in one night.

The fish needed prepping, the tree needed trim,

The gifts needed wrapping, oh where to begin?

At least cookies were made at a night with the cousins,

With Nonni and Nonno we’d already made dozens.

So we'll start with the figures- LEDs line each hall,

Though I’m still not so sure how we power them all…

And now for the ornaments – we need 95,

One for each child for each year of their lives.

Then our seasonal game- new tradition of sorts,

A little competition makes sense as we’re all lovers of sports.

And with cocoa for all, though now some spike their drinks,

We clean the whole house from bedrooms to sinks.

Tomorrow will be filled with prepping all over,

Luminaries for the driveway and final trips to the grocer.

The trains must be set and the nativity placed,

The playlist queued up – not a minute to waste!

With cut-off sweatshirts, stained with years of grease,

We will then begin to prepare the seven fish feast.

We’ll dress up and take pictures, though that will end in a fight,

But now we are ready to party tonight!

So we’ll open the doors, our home fully prepared,

Ready to see droves of friends and family there.

And Santa will come bearing scratch tickets and gifts,

And the BARTENDER makes sure college kids all get their wish.

Another great Christmas Eve will have come and gone,

Proving even with life's changes, tradition still lives on.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve!

i used to... but now...

Hope. Future. Possibilities. Was it really only a few short years ago that the world was my oyster and all this sand was nothing but pearls in the making? Where did that go? 

Fewer than five years into true adulthood, that larger than life, can-do attitude has faded into the shadow of fulfillment hiding in the lining of a briefcase that now get tossed idly around. That briefcase was once a goal, the dream. Countless all nighters researching markets, proofreading papers, putting finishing touches on (read: starting and completing the entirety of) the presentation, all to get to the day that I would have that briefcase. And now I cannot wait to stash it in the trunk of the car on a Friday. Did I fail to cultivate the passion I once had? Or rather, did the passion just shift and my stubborn mind refuses to follow my heart (and honestly who can blame the brain? Does that heart even know what it wants anyway? Hint - no.). 

I read all these listicles, because the internet has now expanded from cat pictures and baby videos to include these too, abut what your 20s are supposed to be like. And sometimes I find comfort in the fact that more than a few individuals spend a solid decade of their lives wandering aimlessly. But sometimes it makes it worse. How do we take a bunch of briefcase-idolizing go getters and turn them into a bunch of lost children in a few sort years?

I get it. I'm not going to know all the answers now. And that is precisely why life is such a confused mess. But some days it would surely be much easier if I could at least see the light.

blahh

What do you do when nothing is wrong? When you are going through life, there are going to be times where there are obvious challenges ahead of you and your task is to think hard, work harder and do whatever it takes to get through it. From these challenges, we learn and grow and become generally better. And hell, more often than not we find a way to roll some good times into that process. But what do we do when nothing is, in fact, wrong?

You would think this scenario is a near nirvana, the utopia that we constantly search for throughout our lives. But just because nothing is wrong, does not mean that everything is right. Or anything for that matter. When things are wrong, we push ourselves. When things are right, we work to maintain that same level of satisfaction. But when things are neither, there is little reason to work for any reason; you have dug yourself a rut and you are safely trudging away in it.

The monotonous back and forth of daily life only deepens the lame state of being. And the only way out is to identify your place in that rut and strengthen yourself mentally and physically to remove yourself from it. Little is going to present itself as a means of forcing new behavior or reinforcing existing ones. 

Sometimes I find myself waiting for a sign. A sign that I am doing something right, or wrong, or anything. Because, frankly, this rut is killing me. I have worn away the ground beneath me in my frantic pacing. The walls grow as the ground sinks, closing me into the chamber I have put myself in; a physical representation of the feelings whizzing around my being. But I am not so sure the sign will show itself. 

So I must pick a direction and force myself to travel thusly. Even if it is not right, it should be wrong enough to force me to want to make it right once more.

you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover...

... but you can, and you do.

We all know the adage about the inside being what matters; that the content trumps the package in which it is delivered. But what happens when we grow up and realize that the cover actually matters. Of course we know we need the substance, but dusty books with odd covers are often left on the shelf regardless if the content. And what good is even the greatest story when it never reaches eyes because it's fate was dictated by the facade that supposedly matters little compared to the value within?

How unfair is it to the complex and fulfilling stories to have to sit idly by as their shallow and unimpressive counterparts fly past them off the shelves simply because their flashy exteriors announce (false) promises to the world? And even when those promises fall short it is somehow ok because they "appear" to deliver? How comforting is that simple adage then? Not very, and it sucks. But the thing about books is that they got stuck with their one unchangeable cover. Us people, we can enhance our covers.

Now I am not saying that we should have to break ourselves only to squeeze the pieces of our former selves into a mold shaping us into an unrecognizable being. But I am saying that if the story is great, so should be the cover. And if the story sucks, then so should the cover. The cover should be an accurate preview of whatever (insert adjective here) is contained within.

We always try to be ourselves, displaying as much of our story on the outside as we can (or know how).   But the things with people is that sometimes we don't realize how awesome our story actually is. We don't necessarily give ourselves the same chances of having others want to really invest themselves in our story because we keep the dusty jacket of yesteryear. And we should change that.

Sometimes our stories change. The way we presented ourselves yesterday might have been a perfect advertisement of the story within at that point, but our stories are constantly evolving with each experience. And sometimes we forget to update the outside to make sure our current story delivers on the promises of the outside, which we know really matters.

So look at your cover and listen to your story, and make sure that your story delivers on its cover promises. And when your appearance isn't as awesome as your story - refresh it. And when your story isn't as awesome as your cover - go live your life and write the story that delivers on those promises.

3 (long) years

3 years. I have been a real person for 3 whole years. Weird.

And while the better part of my being is tempted to spend my energy looking back on an easier time, I am fighting off the depressing thoughts of how far removed I am from the free-and-fancy college senior lifestyle as I watch those I mentored 3 years ago living the dream that is the final days of college (what? I said fighting, not winning...).  And I think I owe a little of that to myself, but living in the past is neither healthy nor productive so I'll give myself a very mourning period but then I'll tip my hat to the fact that I am growing up.

3 years, I am an adult now:  I'm responsible... for the most part... I mean, I go to bed at a reasonable times...when I need to.... uhmmm.... well, I make plans and budgets...and stick to them... oh wait, no...

HAH - I knew it! I knew I wasn't a full-blown grown-up yet! And of course, I am no longer that crazy, bright-eyed college grad, but that's ok. Because I shouldn't be that anymore. That was then and this is now. Now, I have had so many amazing experiences that have bettered me as an individual and helped me become a more mature person primed for the best years of life.

I realized that today, I have just achieved something great. AND it is the first thing I am able to look back on in my adult life and say "Good job, self. That is an accomplishment you should be proud of." WIN! I finally relieved myself of a burden I have been carrying for years. It was an objective burden amplified by guilt stemming from the fact that I was once weak enough to not only allow, but encourage someone to place such a burden on me. But today I conquered that burden and I think I am finally starting to really forgive myself and move on. Oh crap... maybe I am a grown-up....

Time heals all wounds, but if you have some help things heal a lot faster. And I have had some of the best help a person can ask for. From family and friends that have had my back since I have had a back to have to new friends, mentors, and experiences constantly teaching me and providing a fresh take on life - I am fortunate to have had such a strong and positive force pushing me through this last 3 years and molding me into the pretty awesome woman that I am today.

I am looking at this major accomplishment as the fresh start I have been searching for. As the springboard into the next phase of adulthood (while still avoiding actual grown-up status for as long as possible. Call me crazy but I am feeling like a lot of good things might be happening soon. Here is hoping my feeling is right.

is this real life?

Anyone that knows me knows that I love a good crime drama. I love to escape into the fantasy of chasing the bad guy and determining why a crafted villan executed his absurd crimes. The problem is that recently, I can barely differentiate the terrifying reality of the local news with the fantastic escape of these made up tales. The crime scenes are not sets built to look familiar, they are the stores I frequent and neighborhoods I have driven through on streets that I know. The responding officers are not actors, they are my neighbors. The blood of the wounded and killed is not from the prop closet, it is from the hearts of those that loved people close to me and protected our homes.

How is this real? I know that being in a "lockdown" is to keep us safe so I try to take comfort in a day at home. But then I watch SWAT teams invade not a camp in a warzone... or a city in another country... or even a city in a different state, but the neighborhood down the street. Down the street. That's not a random mall that they are using as a terrorist-tracking base camp, that's the mall I was at last week - there is a military vehicle where I parked my Corolla last week. This doesn't happen here. It happens, but it doesn't happen HERE.

Shit just got real and I am NOT handling it well. And this is barely happening to me.

I am one of the lucky ones - I got the "you're next-door, so you lockdown too" warning. I got the "shaken, but ok" responses from my panicked texts and frantic calls. I got to respond with "good, please stay safe" and someone was alive and well on the receiving end. There are others out there that are not that lucky. They are sitting in their houses, afraid to watch the chaos unfolding outside their front door, literally. They are in hospital rooms or worse, staring at make-shift memorials trying to wrap their minds about how they are going to continue on without loved ones.

So if I'm removed, why can't I handle it? Because this is what it means to be human: to feel on behalf of someone else. And even though we want to remove ourselves from such horrible experiences, we cannot ignore what hits home. We use physical distance to create emotional distance from tragedy because without that defense mechanism we would never be able to muster-up the strength to exist, but then it happens down the street and you have no choice but to be affected.

So here we are Boston, being affected. And it sucks. But so far we have done a damn good job. We have helped each other, we have informed each other, we have been there for each other, and we are feeling for each other. We are Boston Strong and we will continue to live up to our reputation of being the tough, resilient city at the foundation of America.

"You showed us, Boston, that in the face of evil, Americans will lift up what's good. In the face of cruelty, we will choose compassion. In the face of those who would visit death upon innocents, we will choose to save and to comfort and to heal. We'll choose friendship. We'll choose love." - President Barack Obama

Boston, you're my home. And I cannot wait until it is a wicked peaceful place once more.

growing up

Forget about breaking up, growing up is what is hard to do. When you are a 20-something, you're too young to be old but too old to be young. Your years of thinking you knew it all are but a distant memory yet, you know the years of actually knowing anything are still way, way, WAY off in the distance. You've made enough mistakes to have some clarity, but the vision is still hazy enough to have no clue what obstacles are still out there - even though you know there are way more of those than there are patches of clear sky ahead of you.  It's daunting - the only thing you are sure of is that you are not sure of anything.

It seems you can't do anything right. In fact, do you even know what right is?

You want to do what is right for you but with the changing times, there are so many options for what that right thing could be it is hard to judge whether you are actually on the right track. The days of being able to compare yourself to your peers to ensure progress went by the wayside with dowries. It can no longer be assumed that men will follow in the pre-destined footsteps of their father in the family trade nor should women to simply expect to be wed and preparing a nursery within a few years of graduating from high school.

We've obviously come a long way from that, but all these possible options presents an opportunity that is equally as terrifying as it is liberating. With so many options it is comforting knowing that there is likely going to be one that works for you but hard to figure out which is the best. And even harder to determine how to define success when everyone's success is now so customized rather than the one-size-fits-all success of generations past.

Being in between is difficult, but I guess this is why we focus in on the fact that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. We might have no clue how to define success or identify when we have achieved it, but we do have the opportunity to experience life with every attempt at getting it right. And maybe, just maybe, one day we will look back on this time in our lives and be thankful that it played out the way it did because being clueless and in your mid-20s was really living.

Void

So many things swirling in and out of life. Wanting to do more than what I'm capable. Willing to do more than my body and mind will allow. Why can I not push myself? Why am I not able to make my dream a reality? Where is the drive? The motivation? The person I used to be?

Somehow consequences feel simultaneously more terrifying and less pressing. Still scared to disappoint, to fail but somehow not enough to power through, make it happen, care. When did it become empty? How does it become full once more? And by it, do I mean me?

I hate when this becomes more about questions than answers. This whole project was inspired by my desire to have others learn from my mistakes because I never got the chance. I wanted to make good on those experiences and even if I could mot make my mistakes into learning experiences, someone could. But this isn't about answers today.

Hasn't been for awhile. Without questions there are no answers. So I guess this is one of those necessary evils. Sometimes it seems that the more I see the less I know. I want to learn, grow, be. And right now I can barely watch as life happens and the opportunities for each of those things are passed up. It hurts. But maybe it's just a growing pain. Or maybe it's a void.