Friday, December 30, 2016


[I realized shortly after posting this that I had a prime opportunity to call this To Everything: Turn, Turn... but apparently my memory for using songs as blog titles is not as spry as I thought]

It's been a while since I last posted. To be completely frank, I'm not sure who I'm writing to here. Not that I was writing to anyone in the first place, but for a while there I had a fairly consistent gig going.

I've been thinking a lot about transitions. Naturally so, I guess: come January we'll have a new president, come June my brother will graduate high school, and on a hyperlocal note, January 1st I begin my term as editor-in-chief of the Point Park Globe.

With the passage of time go, sometimes unnoticed but other times not, smaller, minute changes. For example, this being the first Christmas in memory that we not only left our house for family up north, but also that Christmas felt a bit more sentimental and a bit less - dare I say - magical.

Here's what I mean by this: we had to plan out our 25th. My brother had decided to work early on Boxing Day, so out outing had to be brief. Our aunt and uncle didn't come over because, well, reasons. Here's what I'm getting at: This is the first Christmas in which I truly felt like a full on adult. Not that I personally did anything (in fact I royally messed up and forgot to get anyone anything for Christmas. I only sent out my annual Christmas cards.).

I'm coming to grips with the world fully treating me like an adult, and frankly I don't like it. It's almost as if in the past year a switch flipped and people started taking me seriously. And I know I've been wanting exactly this for some number of years now, but I felt comfortable resigning myself as someone who has had to, for lack of a better way of putting it, prove themselves time and time again.

Let me be clear on something: I still feel that need to prove myself as an Editor and as someone attempting to "do it all," but I feel like for the first time in a long time I've met less resistance on the other side on that.

I'm not sure how I feel about it. Usually here I just rant about things I dislike, but this is something I'm quietly trying to sort out for myself. I say quietly because if I do it too loud, the folks around me look to help. Not that I don't like that, but it's this weird balance where if I ask for help, I'm cashing in one of those hint things to get ahead. It's not entirely logical but it's my dumb up-by-the-bootstraps mentality - mixed with a heck of a lot of stubborn Serbian blood.

Today I embarked on one of our quiet, annual traditions - I meet up with three guys I was in scouts with and we wander through the woods of Settlers Cabin Park. The hike today trekked for about 5 miles, and we realized just how out of shape #collegelife has left us. We've changed since we first did this last year (and since we were last all in scouts together), but honestly it's always good to catch up with folks who share a unique experience - and are willing to organize.

I've always found a warped solace in wicked winter weather. I don't like bundling up in some ridiculous amount of layers, but I do enjoy (and that may be my own twisted self view) just how quiet it is out there. With 27 degree and snowing, we were the only ones in the park other than some wayward deer.

The wind whistled through the barren trees with whispers unlike anything I've heard, making the branches clank against one another. We saw a frozen lake barren but for some cattails on the shoreline. It was nice, it was quiet, and I couldn't shake the feeling of not only how small I was but also how this wilderness (surrounded by formless subdivisions and office complexes) was owned by us in that moment. And how for once, this world was ours.

I like the outdoors for that reason: there's at once a freeing feeling, at another point a superiority all the while a humility overwhelms you. The woods aren't alive in a traditional sense - life flocks to it. I enjoyed catching up and for once (for the first time since August) becoming one with nature. And yeah that's hokey but it's true.

I have to then say that for as much uncertainty that lies ahead - there was always uncertainty. We write our own futures and shall continue to do so. We transition always, for we are alive. Without seasons giving way there is no turning and without catalysts there is no progress.

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