Stronger together: No matter your political party

Going to bed last night, I found myself in tears and speechless. I wasn't "overreacting" or "being dramatic," as many Trump supporters were quick to call out. I was facing a hard reality, and I was not alone. I called my dad in tears, waking him up from a 5 hour time difference, and asked "what are we gonna do?". Because I honestly didn't know.

This wasn't watching your favorite team lose the World Series, this wasn't the death of your favorite TV character, this was the election of a man who during his campaign has promised to shatter the diversity of our country, and has shouted hateful things towards minorities and especially women.

There is no do-over, there is no "maybe next year we'll win" or "they'll fix things in the next episode". And that scared me. I am scared for my LGBT friends, my friends who I met during college who came to America with the dream of higher education and a career, and my friends who rely on Planned Parenthood to guide them through womanhood and tough decisions they may need to make. As I said to a friend, you may not agree with me, but to completely disregard and to not respect the terror that these groups of people are currently feeling is not only horrifying, it is blinding.

I do not hate Donald Trump. I do not hate Mike Pence. I was raised with love, respect, and trust in my heart, and I was raised to love thy neighbor, even when that neighbor tests me. I do not hate anyone who voted for these men. We live in a country where free speech is something you're born with, not something you need to earn or fight for.

After the immediate shock, I did find it hard to connect on a personal level with my many friends who have supported these men. But after hours of feeling drained and too many tears, I have come to realize that this is how it will be. This is our country now. I can choose one of three things. I can purchase a one-way ticket to Italy, and eat pasta and drink wine for the next four years while I blindly avoid whatever is going on in my home country. I can refuse to accept his presidency and sit and complain for four years until the next election. Or, I can choose to accept this as it is, realize that our country has always been bigger than one man, and use my voice for the things I believe in for the next four years. This is how I choose to move on. I also choose to trust in my faith and hope to God that the racist, sexist comments and promises that Trump made during his campaign are only empty promises. I will pray that he has support and guidance from people who may lead him down a path with an open mind, to see that our country is already great, and that with the right decisions, he can help to make it even greater.

To my friends and family who are still reeling from the results: I know you are sad. I know you are scared. I am too. But as we have used our voices over the past year, we will continue to use them going forward. We are not silenced, we are not broken. This is a test of our strength. Strength to understand, strength to accept and strength to respect. Stay strong, and remember as Hillary has said, we are stronger together. So let's stay together. All of us.

Maybe Hawaii

"As you make big changes in your life, there will be people who just don't get it. That's ok. You're doing what's right for you and your life, not theirs."

About halfway through senior year, I realized that I had to start thinking about where I wanted to live. I had my top two: Maine and Boston. I remember jokingly saying to a coworker "maybe Hawaii". We laughed it off into dreamland oblivion, and it became a forgotten idea after a few days.

Fast forward to about a month ago: I was sitting at my desk when I started to feel stuck. I have great coworkers, great hours, and great pay, but there was something missing. I'm not saying I need to be cutting out shapes and gluing them to paper all day, but I knew I needed something to get my creative juices flowing. I thought back to that moment with my coworker, and again I thought, maybe Hawaii. After that second consideration, I went full speed ahead and didn't stop until I had a one-way ticket with my name on it.

When I tell people that I'm moving to Hawaii, I get one of two responses—seriously, it's down to a science. It's either "Well, I heard it's really expensive out there, so good luck," or "I wish I could just up and move to Hawaii".

I've come to realize that there's a lot more hiding behind those responses. These are the responses of people afraid to take a risk. Let me lay down what my life could look like right about now. I could work in cubicle land with a starting salary of 40k a year and two weeks of vacation—which I would spend in Florida on some spring break reenactment—live in a comfortable home, make steady car payments on a brand new car, and go out to eat with friends—but only once a week—because twice would put me WAY over budget. Look around, this is how most of the people you know are living. I decided I wanted to live for something more. I went to art school, so I'll be damned if my life isn't half as creative as I was taught it should be.

What will I do when I get there? You know, for once in my color-coded agenda life, I'm not really sure. Up until now, everything in my life has been planned down to the minute. It didn't take long while reading "Why you should drop everything and move to Hawaii" blog posts for me to realize that my uptight, punctual life is not going to fly on the island. So I decided to start slowing down now. I'm going to Hawaii, and I'm going to spend time with my grandfather (who I rarely see, for obvious reasons), and then I'm going to figure it out. Will I work at one of the awesome ad agencies on Oahu? I hope so! Will I accept that job placement is hard and take a job as a nanny for some awesome family and their two-year-old? You're damn right I will.

I've always been the one to take the road less traveled. When all signs point to no, I'm still shouting yes. I have never let anything hold me back. If I want something, I go after it, and I either work my butt off until I get it, or accept defeat, knowing that I have tried my best. Hawaii will be no exception. It's either going to work or it won't—just like pretty much every other life situation that has ever come my way. But as my mom taught me growing up, you won't know if you like it until you try it. Oh, and from dad, GET A JOB!

Understanding death and living a little

March 23, 2016:

God, I was so proud of you. For fighting, for believing, for staying with us. Any news was good news for me, because it meant you were still around. I had just extended my short trip home because I wanted to spend my spring break with my friends. That night, I was with Ben Benoit. I gave him the update that I loved to give—you were doing well, and I was going to visit you that Saturday. Once I left Ben's, I drove towards my house. But something in me knew that wasn't my final destination. I drove up to the crash site, and said a prayer for peace and healing. I texted Alex, and told her I was coming over because I missed her. I ran into her house as usual, wishing you were there, and hugged Karen. I was so excited to see her, but the look on her face was not a happy one. It didn't even click. Where was Alex? I noticed her out of the corner of my eye on the porch. Nothing unusual. Karen told me. No. No, no, no, no. I just remember sinking to the ground, and everything going black. Alex was on the phone with your mom. I stood there, thankful that I had extended my trip, still trying to grasp the news. It was you all along. There's no doubt in my mind that you extended my trip home, drove me out to Fayette to say goodbye, and then sent me to Alex's so we could be together.

---

Before you, I woke up, went to school, did my homework and went to bed. The first time we hungout, you told me to "live a little". I found myself staying out late, learning more about the world, and being a little more fearless with my decisions. I started doing things that didn’t align with my GPA or who I was "supposed to be". You and Alex opened me up into a new person, a real person.  

The rest of our lives couldn't come faster. We drove backroads late at night just to kill time. We talked about the what ifs; about the lives we'd have when we finally got out of Central Maine. There was that night we sat in Alex's car on Summerhaven and you put your Beats on my head and told me to look up at the stars through the moon roof. It felt like the world was in my hands. I could do anything, as long as the two of you were by my side. I think of that moment whenever I see the stars. I see you in them now, laughing at my childlike attitude and our ability to enjoy each other's company while doing absolutely nothing.

You were the first person to support my wild and crazy dreams. While everyone else rolled their eyes at the thought of art school, you frequently checked in, anxious to see what I was doing down in Georgia. I knew that whenever I needed a little encouragement, someone to tell me that I hadn't completely lost my mind, you were there. I know it's selfish, but I really could have used you this year. I stood on graduation day trying to imagine how excited you'd be for me, and I realized that you still are that excited, you're just not here to share it.

I thought I understood death. I had been to funerals before, I had received the phone calls of loved ones lost. Okay, I thought, this is just part of life. But I've come to realize that the death of a 90-year-old who has fulfilled their goals and dreams is very different than the death of someone with so much more life left in them. It's been four months since we lost you, and I still don't understand death. I still find myself clicking your name to send a Snapchat, and every time I visit Alex, I fully expect you to be sitting in your chair, like always. I don't understand why you can't respond to texts, I don't understand why you aren't around, none of it makes much sense. I thought I would understand. I thought I'd be able to accept the absence of your presence. I think it's hard because without you, there's a little piece of me missing too.

I don't understand death, especially not yours. I want to eat McDonald's French fries with you, listen to whatever music you're listening to this week, and my god, I'd give anything to hear your laugh again. I think of you in silence, I think of you in noise. I think of you in song lyrics, I think of you in hooded sweatshirts and flannel shirts. I may not understand your death now, and maybe I never will, but I know you're not gone, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. You live with me in the little moments and the big accomplishments. On the long car rides, you're who I talk to. There won't be a day that goes by that I'm not living for you. You are my adventurous spirit; you are my kind-hearted soul. I will spend forever and a day living in your honor. Thank you for making me a real person.

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Why living in Maine has spoiled me for life

Hiking: Mount Katahdin. Need I say more? Okay fine, I will. First of all, Katahdin is literally spelled exactly how a Mainer would pronounce it (Ka-tah-din). It’s so perfect it kills me. Second of all, have you ever climbed Katahdin? No? And you call yourself a Mainer. If you have, you know exactly what I’m talking about. THE VIEWS, BABY! Like wow. We all know Maine is picturesque but there’s something about standing on top of the state that tops every other view you’ve ever seen. Seriously, if you haven’t climbed it—do it this summer. Oh and we have one end of the Appalachian Trail, so that’s pretty special. 

Lobster: Why does no one understand the reason why I make a crinkly face at “Real Maine lobster!!” at Red Lobster or any grocery store in the south? Well, because they truly believe that it’s real Maine lobster. Let me tell you something—if I didn’t pick it out of the tank or buy it fresh off the boat, I don’t want to eat it. Don’t sit here and try to convince me that Jason’s Deli in Savannah sells “Real Maine lobster stew”. No. No they do not. It may be real, but it has been processed and packaged and I want nothing to do with that. Am I a lobster snob? Yes, yes I am. I was born and raised in Maine, so you should never expect anything less from me. PS: I ate 11 lobster rolls last summer. Does that make me an expert? 

Strawberries: Okay, I’m speaking for all of central Maine when I say that Stevenson’s strawberries melt in your mouth. I can’t even buy strawberries in the grocery store anymore. It’s just not happening. I live for strawberry season in Maine—all four weeks of it. Strawberry rhubarb pie, strawberry shortcake, strawberry jam, strawberries on waffles, strawberry ice cream—all will be consumed during strawberry season. There’s something so right about strawberry stained lips and clothes. You just can’t beat it. 

Blueberries: At least we get two full months for blueberries. I’m actually the worst blueberry picker because I eat double the amount that I put in the carton. The best and worst part about blueberries is that once you do have a full carton and are headed home, they'll disappear before you even pull into your driveway. Then you have to go back and pick some more, so really it’s a win-win situation. Every Maine-raised kid can say they’ve read Blueberries for Sal. Also, our official state fruit is the wild blueberry—so clearly they’re wicked good. 

Maple syrup: Forget Vermont maple syrup. Maine maple syrup is where it’s at. Maple sugar Sunday, yummmmm. Just thinking about maple syrup on ice cream and waffles makes my mouth water. My parents send me maple syrup every year. I’ve sent some to my friends and they literally fight over it (seriously, they just told me that). My one true testament to being a maple syrup lover? My parents shipped me a box of maple syrup, maple cream and maple sugar peanut butter cups while I was across the world in Hong Kong. Yep, seriously the best parents ever. God bless Maine maple syrup. 

L.L.Bean: Your Walmart is open 24/7? Ours isn’t. But L.L.Bean is. Now, you might have to settle for freeze dried camp food and an endless supply of maple syrup as your groceries, but nonetheless, L.L.Bean stays open year round for all of your Maine needs. They have everything, and thank God they’re open all day every day, because it could take weeks to go through everything. They originally decided to stay open all the time because hunters who were leaving early for hunting trips needed supplies at early hours and would knock on the door. So L.L. threw away the key and the doors have been open ever since. 

Backroads: I’m talking legit backroads. Not side roads to a house, not dirt roads with houses all along them—backroads where you have to do an eight-point turn to turn around because if you kept going you would have to fight your way through trees and mud holes. Also, this picture sums it up. This was taken way up on Blueberry Hill in Vienna. We were completely alone the entire afternoon that we were up there, not a single car or person in sight. And then we started heading back down towards the main road and we hit traffic. Yes, we hit traffic on the backroad. It was such a funny thing to see, and I said to myself, “only in Maine”. 

Corn on the cob: The best moment of the summer is biting into sweet Elvin’s corn during a lobster dinner. Wait, no, the best moment is definitely seeing the sign for Elvin’s finally pop up on Kents Hill. That means that it’s summer. The corn is sweet and falls off so easily—it really doesn’t get better. Lobster and corn are for sure my two main food groups during the summer. 

Moose: “Oh I’ve seen a moose before! In the zoo!” No. BYE. If you haven’t sat in your car for at least 30 minutes at a moose lookout point in northern Maine, and then hopped out of the car as soon as you see one—just for it to go back into the woods—then you haven’t seen a moose. Those moments used to be the highlights of my summer. The 30 seconds out of the year that were spent looking at a moose at the lookout near camp were the best 30 seconds. And forget keeping your cool if a SECOND moose happens to come out of the woods and into view—that’s even better than winning the jackpot. 

Fielders: Attn: Central Maine. If you’ve never been to Fielders Choice, my heart is seriously breaking for you. My dad said to me, “you know, you don’t have to go to Fielders every time you see one of your friends”. HA, ok dad. Whatever you say. I’ve gone through many phases of favorites—but peanut butter ice cream always comes out on top. Fielders opened for the season on March 11th last year. I’ll be home on March 15th this year and you better believe Fielders will be my first stop. 

In the words of my dad, "boys are evil"

Over four years ago I fell for a boy who treated me right for a long time. He became my best friend, for reasons that are quite obvious: he never stood me up, he never canceled plans without a damn good reason, he respected me, he got along with my friends and family, and he never ignored me, even when he was upset with me. You can’t build a relationship without trust or respect, and he was proof of that.

Now, all good things must come to an end, which they did. I was bitter for a long time, but due to a recent series of events, I have come to respect him so much more (how weird is that?). You see, since we broke up, I have been so focused on finding another boy to hold my hand and spend time with me that I haven’t been fully focused on myself. I started to become obsessed with the thought of boys and their place in my life. None of this made any sense to me, because I have the best friends I could ask for in all corners of the world—and some of my closest are guys that I enjoy being around without the pressure of our relationship being anything more than friends. Why was I so focused on adding another boy to my life when I already have some solid ones by my side? But even still, I kept wondering why I seemed to be the only girl without a boyfriend. Was this punishment for having a relationship for two years in high school? I drove myself insane thinking about all the reasons a boy wouldn’t want me—not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not funny enough, not easy enough to take home on the first night. It became so hard to love myself when all of these thoughts were running through my mind. The crazy thing is, I know I’m pretty enough, funny enough and smart enough for a boy to fall for—because it has happened before.

So two weeks ago, when a boy asked me out to dinner, you can imagine my excitement. What will I wear? Will he kiss me? Where will we go? And then, two hours before the date, he canceled. A last minute “family trip” that he felt “so bad about”. And I believed him. I shrugged it off like it was no big deal, and we rescheduled. I thought maybe he really did feel bad if he’s rescheduling. So a week later, I ran through those first date questions once more, got the jitters, put on a perfect outfit that my best friend helped me pick, and I waited. Then, the text came. Stuck at the car dealership. Canceled. Again. This time I wasn’t so forgiving. Sure, I played it off cool and texted him that it was no big deal—because in reality, it wasn’t. But I wasn’t happy. Twice? Seriously? Who does that? And that’s when it hit me—the search for a boyfriend needed to end immediately. Sure, maybe one bad experience wasn’t going to be the basis of the rest of my search. But why was I searching? For a boy to take me out to dinner and kiss me goodnight? Why go through that worry when I have a solid group of girlfriends and guy friends who will go to dinner and spend quality time with me? I was searching for this love that isn’t supposed to be searched for. It’s supposed to just happen. I was trying too hard and it backfired. I know him canceling wasn’t my fault, but it sure put things in a new perspective.

I was over it two hours later. I had a delicious bowl of chicken and dumplings made by my very best friend that I enjoyed while wearing sweatpants and a flannel—which is much better than the outfit I had picked out for my date just hours before. One day I will find someone who respects me and loves every piece of me, and I will love him in return. But for now, I have a heart that is overflowing with love for friends in Maine, friends in Georgia and friends in Hong Kong. I’m so blessed with these golden friendships that have just happened. I didn’t search for any of my friends and I didn’t stress over how to impress them—it just happened. So I’m shutting off my search engine for a boyfriend. Maybe he’ll show up and maybe he won’t, but I’m not worried about it anymore. I’m thankful he canceled twice because he helped show me that I don’t need someone like that in my life. I’m also thankful for the boy I loved for two years who never treated me the way this stranger has treated me. He treated me with respect and I could always count on him to be there. But most of all, I’m thankful for my best friends who not only pick me up when I feel down but prove to me that you don’t need to search the world for love when it has been standing right in front of you the whole time.