WHY I STILL WRITE

As long as I can remember, I’ve been a writer. In third grade, sometimes my friends and I would ask to go out to the hall during story time after recess. Instead of hearing other people’s stories, we wanted to write our own. We wrote these stories in my Garfield notebook. They were about our school mascot, E the Eagle. We imagined he went inside the Internet and met a hologram named Holly the Hologram. I don’t remember much beyond that, but it shows me how long storytelling has been a part of my life.

Even before that, one of my best friends and I would pass back and forth a paper yellow folder filled with pages and pages of handwritten stories about a talking dog named Ripper. On white computer paper, we made up the adventures of Ripper the talking dog and his two teenage female companions. We imagined we would play them in the movie version.

I wish I still had those pages, even if just to see what our wild little imaginations could dream up. It’s crazy how much we lose our imaginations as we get older. I always protested. I said it would never happen to me. I chose a creative field, therefore, I should get to keep mine. Right?

Wrong.

I never dreamed how wrong I could be. I wouldn’t say I don’t have an imagination; we all do to some degree. But it is nothing like that of a child. We use phrases like “thinking outside the box.” Kids — they aren’t thinking about how to think outside the box. They are already five steps ahead, using the box as a portal to another universe. One filled with adventures that are now beyond our wildest dreams. They’re innocent, but also naive to the world. And for once, that’s a good thing. They don’t have the biases — we like to call wisdom — of living. They haven’t learned logic or reason. And to me, that is a beautiful thing.

I can’t explain why I started writing. The words pour out of me. The floodgates opened the moment my number two pencil touched the page for the first time. I get little flashbacks to my earliest memories of writing — like how I got the word “of” wrong on a spelling test in first grade. I remember the red dash next to the “ov.” I remember the story I wrote about journeying through Candyland in third grade. And I remember writing my AP Comp essay my junior year about how I wanted to help people through my words — giving myself the pen name Dr. Wordsmith.

The most valuable thing I’ve learned through writing is how important is for me to keep writing. It’s easy to get caught up in the busyness of life. We’re going and going and going — until don’t know where we’re going anymore. Writing grounds me. It heals me. Like I said, I hope that my words can be healing for other people, too.

I’ve had people message me telling me how much they related to something I wrote. Others tell me that they actually laughed out loud or had to share my words with someone else. To me, that’s the best feeling in the entire world.

Even if it’s just a line that resonates with someone, I feel like I’ve done my job. But more than that, it reaffirms why I still write.

8 THINGS I LEARNED FROM MOVING ACROSS THE COUNTRY

Moving away from home was by far the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm not talking about college. My entire college career was nothing in comparison to this. But living in the next state over is nothing like packing everything you own into your car and road tripping across the country.

I wouldn't go as far as to say that I regret the move, but I recognize now more than ever that I am a Midwesterner through and through. And I now know that there is nothing wrong with that. I used to want nothing more than to move out of the Midwest. I wanted to try something new -- experience something bigger.

But then I decided to move to Florida. Here's what I learned from that experience:

1. If you're thinking about picking up and moving across the country, make sure you know what you're getting into. 
It's often impossible to fully understand what you're getting yourself into. You can't predict the mishaps in life that throw things off course. But when you're making a move like this, there's generally a larger purpose behind it. You don't just randomly uproot your life for no reason. So whether it's a job, a person or a new experience, make sure that you understand the worst case scenario before you make the move. Is this job really what you want to do? What if it doesn't work out with the person? Can you find that experience anywhere else?

2. You will get to know yourself better.
You will never spend as much time with anyone else as you do with yourself. And you learn that even more when you move across the country by yourself (especially when you work overnights and weekends).

3. You have a blank slate, but be yourself. 
No one knows you here. They don't know your family or how you wore purple eyeliner all through the 8th grade (true story). So you get a fresh start. But that doesn't mean you should try to be someone else. Be yourself. After a while, you can't help it anyway, so why try to put on an act for anyone?

4. You learn to build your own network.
Oh, the joy of making friends. Wasn't it easier when you were just in the same class/dorm with people? You had built-in friends. As an adult, you have to actively work to build connections and friendships. But it's worth it.

5. You grow as a person. 
Going through one of the most trying periods in life will definitely help you grow as a person. It challenged me in ways that I never dreamed possible. For example, I have so much respect for the people who commit decades of their lives to working overnights and definitely don't get enough credit for it. Unless you've worked overnights for a prolonged period of time, you really don't know what it's like. And I will forever have that extra appreciation for the people still doing it.

6. You learn more about what you want (and what you absolutely don't want).
It made me think about what was most important in life and most important to me. This experience taught me more about what I want going forward then school ever could. And for that, I am forever grateful I had this experience.

7.  You figure out who is most important to you. 
The people who are there when everything feels like it's falling apart. The people who actively check in to see how you are doing. And the people who support you -- sometimes by encouraging you to push past the bad stuff. Those are the people who matter.

8. You question what your purpose is. 
When you make a long-distance move it pushes you to think about what you are truly called to do. And the weirdest part is that this particular move taught me how much my purpose is back home right now.

So in case, you couldn't already tell, I made it back home. Safe and sound. I can't help but think the reason for my move to Florida was to bring me back home. I know it sounds funny, but I think if I had found a job anywhere else, I might have stuck it out, and I would never be where I am now. And I know I ended up where I am meant to be at this moment.

The people I met, the experiences I had, the time I spent in Florida, I truly believe it was meant to be.

WHY I AM CHOOSING HAPPINESS

For most of my life, I've lived according to what I think other people expect me to do. Try hard in school, work towards something greater, always on -- never stopping to think about what's best for me. Even when I'm deciding what I want most in life, part of me has always thought about it will affect everyone around me.

Recently, I had a big decision to make. And when it came down to it, everyone told me: do what your gut is telling you. Choose happiness.

Life in the Lost and Found Bin is about my discovering who I am and what I really want. And while I know myself much better than when I created this blog, I think I still have a lot to learn. I have always had dreams, but I have always questioned them.

It's not that I've questioned whether or not I really want my dreams to come true. Rather, I have been clouded in self-doubt about whether or not I had the power to really make them come true. And let's be real: most people don't make their dreams come true. For some, maybe they don't have what it takes. Maybe it is about knowing the right people and having the right opportunities. But for others, I think it's about life getting in the way. The unexpected happens and sometimes you have to reevaluate what is most important to you. And I think part of maturing is realizing that sometimes your "dreams" aren't going to be your first priority. And that's okay.

So, for now, I am choosing happiness. I only recently discovered that was an option -- one that I could choose. Maybe I'm not Lena Dunham or Donald Glover, living out my dreams at 23. But everybody's path is different.

I am willing to work hard. I am willing to give my dreams everything I've got. But I'm going to do it my way. I'm okay with it taking a little longer.

That's why I am choosing happiness.

Are you choosing happiness? 

SEND TO: MINNESOTA, RE: OUR BREAKUP

Draft: Feb. 12 3:35 p.m. 

Dear Minnesota,

There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about for a while. It's something that's hard for me to admit. So please, just hear me out.

Breaks are dumb. But our break has made me realize, taking a break doesn't mean a relationship is irreparable. In fact, I believe our love can be stronger than ever.

I know it's cliche -- the whole "not knowing what you have until you've lost it." But it's true. I chose to move away during an incredibly confusing time in my life.

I was young, dumb and in love with the idea of experiencing something extraordinary. And I thought to do that, I needed to move away.

Now, I'm left missing the way you made me feel. Being with you made me a better person. I have no doubt that I am who I am because of you. The harsh cold winters made me stronger and more tolerant. The change of the seasons made me remember nothing lasts forever. The cool summer breeze at night made me -- well, let's be honest, I took that for granted at the time. In Florida, there is no breeze from April-November. It's sticky and humid. Honestly, it makes me cringe thinking about the looming return of the humidity.

But mostly, I'm homesick for the people. God, how I miss the people. Don't get me wrong, I've met some nice people here. And I cherish those friendships. However, people here aren't as aggressively nice or overly apologetic. Minnesota Nice is a thing, people. 

The state we grew up in is forever a part of our identity. It helped mold us into who we are. As a kid, I questioned my parents' choice to build a life in Minnesota. I thought, why would you ever consciously choose to stay in a state that is cold 75% of the year? But I get it now. It only took me moving away to figure that out.

Minnesota, you're not perfect (ex."cold 75% of the year"). But neither am I (ex. moved away). We've made our mistakes. Our timing was off. I wanted to try new things. You were too busy hosting the Super Bowl. But the thing is none of that matters. All that matters is that I know our story isn't over yet.

I've always loved you. And I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. Please, forgive me.

P.s. please, don't forget about me while I'm gone.