“You two need to find some peace,” she says.

I snuggle further back into my papasan chair, sinking into layers of orange fuzz.  Looking back into the blue eyes that reflect mine, I see the same question, “How?  Where?  With who?”

Through a career?  Who’s ever wanted that?  Through words?  Tried and tried again, it always disappoints, leaving one hollow like the blank space of white in O.

Through a guy?  Like so many people try?  Only to find that, years down the road, that couldn’t fulfill forever either.

Through God?  Who seems like a distant statue, a silent shoulder, the silence in my bedroom after I’ve spoken aloud my heart.

Peace?

Country music plays in the background and we’re spinning.  I’m hopping, turning, bouncing while flinging my arms around.  Little Sophia jerks about, bopping awkwardly but happily to the beat.  My mom dances too, swaying and moving.  Then there are bonzai burgers, tangy pineapple juice and chocolate covered strawberries.  Sophia lisps, “Fwench Fwies!”  The sun shines across the fields, green with the promise of new growth.  It’s not a flimsy ray but an all-encompassing, bounding lion of a sun: playful and glorious.  My brother teaches me how to punch, my sister teaches me how to be a hostess (both equally necessary).  I teach Kari how to color eggs, laughing at our childish scribbles on the parchment shells.  Dad asks me what I’ve managed to spill so far.  Finally, exhausted, I flop down with my mom and we watch a movie, laughing like school girls at parts, laughing as friends do.   And now I sit in a fuzzy, orange papasan chair with the window cracked.  Peeper solos and quartets reach my ears, accompanied by the clicking of keys.  That melodious sound echoing out that it’s been a good day.

When I was little my dad used to swing me up on top of his shoulders.  The queen of the world, I would then gaze up at the multitude of stars shining against a backdrop of velvet and whipped cloud.

“There’s one!” my sister would exclaim from below me, pointing up at another satellite.

My dad would see it next, or maybe first, and then attempt to point it out to me.  I’d search the heavens with my child’s eyes and feel suddenly inept as I tried to pick out a faint moving light against the thousands of twinkling ones.

Times have changed since then.  I’ve grown up, as has my sister.  I can’t even remember the last time we stargazed together.

Our conversation about the spectacular conjunction of Venus and Jupiter:

Kailey: “Was I the only person who didn’t know about this?”

Me: “How could you miss it?!?”

Kailey: “I guess I’m not outside that much at night.”

Me: “You mean you don’t go wandering around in fields at night like all of the normal people?”

And she doesn’t…truth be told, I rarely stargaze either.  Kailey’s world is full of little feet and child’s babbling, mine full of essays, textbooks and work.  We’re not the same.  We look at the stars with older eyes and different perspectives.

But that’s what’s so neat about the stars: they don’t change, not like we do.  Sure, stars die, new ones form, they even move but the distances are so vast that it’s imperceptible to us, leaving the constellations the same.  Those warriors, dogs and that weird sea goat are still shining merrily down on a spinning Earth.

A few nights ago, I once again tramped through the starlit fields.  I was armed with binoculars, star maps and a nifty ipod touch.  And of course I had my trusty dad with me as well.  Together we once again gazed up at those familiar friends.

“What do you think that is?”

“I don’t know.”  (Scroll through google on the ipod…)

“There’s a satellite!”

“Where?” (Guess I haven’t changed that much).

And as I saw the conjunction of Venus and Jupiter around a slice of crescent moon, I felt like I was elsewhere: somewhere a little more beautiful, a little less hard.  Maybe the past, maybe a dream.

Eventually, you have to wake up from dreams but that was okay. I was still standing under a grinning moon, watching the stars do their dance.  My dad by my side, my mom, dog and cat curled up inside, the rest of my family somewhere out there beneath the same starry night.

I smiled up at the sky, excitement washing through me.

“I’m still here, it’s okay.”

Followed by a starry wink.

So, I’m not a class dropping, test failing, F getting monster.  I like A’s and tests that come back with an “Excellent!”  But I also like enjoying my classes and my life.  Unfortunately, the things I like don’t always go together.

Throughout high school, I slowly became the “A” monster.  Freshmen year I didn’t really care.  B range grades were fine if they meant I could barely study for my French final.  But as the years progressed, I began to get more praise for grades and I gobbled that attention up.  I’m not saying this to brag (in fact, I don’t think it’s anything worth bragging about) but I got straight A’s all through my associates degree.  I had unleashed my achievement monster and it was gaining full reign.

This semester I was determined to behave differently.  I didn’t want A grades at the cost of time spent enjoying life or doing things I love.   I began writing papers the night before they were due, doing projects the weekend of rather than in advance, and (my crowning achievement) I dropped a class!

The shocking realizations:

1. I’m still doing well in all of my classes

2. The world won’t spontaneously combust if I drop a class (I’ve never regretted that decision)

3. People you think will be disappointed actually rally behind you (advisers, friends, grandparents, and parents)

4. Life and classes are a lot more enjoyable when you’re not a stressed out “A” monster

I’m still fighting that slippery, green achievement enemy (for some reason I’m picturing him as the Mucinex bug…)

But I’m happy to report that the monster is slowly returning to his boogery muck and the B fairy of joy and bliss continues to arise!

  1.  You get to work in your pajamas!  No uncomfortable, made for a stick bug jeans,  no suit and tie, and definitely no skirt that you always have to keep one eye on.

2.  You can multitask.  For example, typing and eating a container of creme cheese frosting simultaneously.

3. You get to watch the oncoming storm rage outside your bedroom window.  Do you really want to spend your life shut up in a cubicle with four windowless, opaque walls marking where your world begins and ends?

4. Your dog becomes your coworker.  As long as you don’t start talking to him (too much that is…) I don’t see a problem with this one.

5.  Well…do you even need a fifth reason?

From Work by Louisa May Alcott

“Do you see those two logs?  Well that one smoldering dismally away in the corner is what my life is now; the other blazing and singing is what I want my life to be.  I know the end is the same; but it does make a difference how they turn to ashes, and how I spend my life.  That log, with its one dull spot of fire, gives neither light nor warmth, but lies sizzling despondently among the cinders.  But the other glows from end to end with cheerful little flames that go singing up the chimney with a pleasant sound.  Its light fills the room and shines out into the dark; its warmth draws us nearer, making the hearth the coziest place in the house, and we shall all miss the friendly blaze when it dies.  Yes, I hope my life may be like that, so that, whether it be long or short, it will be useful and cheerful while it lasts, will be missed when it ends, and leave something behind besides ashes.”

No Such Thing by John Mayer

“Welcome to the real world,” she said to me,

condescendingly,

Take your seat

Take your life

Plot it out in black and white.

Well I never lived the dreams of the prom kings

And the drama queens

I’d like to think the best of me, is still hiding up my sleeve.

They love to tell you

Stay inside the lines

But something’s better

On the other side.

I wanna run through the halls of my high school

I wanna scream at the top of my lungs

I just found out there’s no such thing as the real world

Just a truth  you’ve gotta rise above.

So the good boys and girls take the so called right track,

Grabbing credits and maybe transfers

They read all the books but they can’t find the answers.

And all of our parents, they’re getting older,

I wonder if they’ve wished for anything better

While in their memories,

Tiny tragedies.

(Chorus)

I am invincible, as long as I’m alive

(Chorus)

I just can’t wait til my 10 year reunion

I’m gonna bust down the double doors,

And when I stand on these tables before you,

You will know what all this time was for.