The perfect pitch.

Perfect.

Everything has always had to be perfect for me to accept it.

In high school, I had to have the perfect schedule. I kept myself busy between my extracurriculars (color guard) and my long laundry list of academic achievements (NHS, Kappa, Rho, etc.) In college, I tried to find the perfect everything: the perfect job, the perfect roommate, the perfect boyfriend (hence, why I'm single).

Life isn't perfect.

I'm not perfect.

You're not perfect.

I've been waiting for the perfect moment to pack up my car and go to California.

I keep thinking that there's going to come a day where everything's going to fall into place.

NEWSFLASH. Life doesn't work that way. It's taken me a long time to figure that out, but it makes sense now.

My lease is up May 31st.

I am no longer contracted or "stuck" in Florida.

I'll be Tampa bound for a few days to tie up loose ends, and then I will be loading up my car with some clothes/absolute necessities, getting behind the wheel and my dad and I will be California bound. He's planned out the road trip for the "along the way"--New Orleans, Dallas, etc. He's excited.

So am I. That doesn't mean I'm not terrified. 'Cause I totally am. That's a LONG way from home. I'm thankful to have a handful of friends in CA who I can call and drag to lunch and/or dinner with me every once and a while if need be. But still. It's gonna be a hard thing to do.

But I realized something tonight that I need to keep reminding myself of.

What is the worst thing that could happen?

I'll have to come home? Start from scratch? As scary as that may sound, it's actually scarier to picture myself GOING to California.

-insert heavy sigh here-

So yes, I'm going to California. Probably around three months from today, actually. June 16th--you are my deadline.

Note to self: Sarah, you are not perfect. If you fail at this, it is not the end of the world.

At least I tried, right?

I think that counts for something.

Thanks for your support, friends.

xo.

Nothing is ever as it seems.

I feel like in life we try to plan everything--don't deny it. I know not everyone's a planner, but for the most part there are just things we try to keep in a specific order; things that matter.

All my life I've had ideas of who I want to be--what I want to do when I "grow up", where I want to live, who I want to marry, how many kids I want to have. It's all the same.

As humans (maybe this is just a girl thing, I'm not sure) I feel like we take moments and memories, future plans and places, build them up and create this magical world where we know in our hearts that not everything's perfect but yet we have this image of a fairytale where life is almost perfect. It's a defect for us dreamers; a flaw.

I've built up a lot in my life.

I planned when I was eight that I would go to a really prestigious college--at the time, the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I wanted to meet my Southern sweetheart, fall in love and get engaged by the time I was twenty-one. At that point, I'd be preparing to graduate. I'd plan my wedding for the fall a year after graduation, we'd get married in the church I grew up in back home in Huntersville and we'd get a lake house on Lake Norman. We'd have three kids with a wrap-around porch and be happy. I'd be a stay-at-home mom, he'd be a doctor or a lawyer.

This plan obviously changed as time went on. But each time, it was some fairytale plan I had dreamt about time after time again.

I wish there was a way to make myself stop creating these impossible plans. I build things up only to be disappointed in the end.

I went home to Huntersville; I had a wonderful time. I loved being back in the town I've always called home. But it wasn't what I was expecting. It wasn't what I thought it'd be.

This isn't really a "grass is always greener..." moment. This is more of a "things change, life moves on" moment.

Growing up, my childhood home was a mansion to me. It was a light shade of gray with a long driveway. My dad made a flower bed in the middle of the front yard with my mom's favorite pansies and tulips and daffodils. There was a treehouse in the backyard my dad and I built when I was seven (well, he built--I observed). The house was perfect.

As I drove by a few weeks ago, I noticed the house was a lot smaller than I remembered. The house had been repainted a brown color, but most of it was chipping. The house needed a lot of work. The flower bed in the front yard had been torn up years ago, as grass had grown over the flowers and the mulch. The treehouse is falling apart--the rainbow canvas that hung overhead now hangs barely by a nail, the swings were broken and the wood cracking in various places.

The house was less than perfect. It wasn't how I remembered.

Time is a fact of life; it's something we can't avoid, nor can we slow down or speed up. Time changes all. I think that might be the "new" hardest part about growing up.

Huntersville will always be home, but I don't know that I'll ever live there again. A look on the bright side: I know I'll always have some place to visit and remember for the rest of my life.

But for now, I'm moving on to bigger and better things. I'm tired of letting memories and fairytales get in the way of my hopes and dreams.

I'm walking my path; just trying to adjust and live life with each and every bump, mountain, valley and detour that comes my way.

To the girls at the University intersection.

Well, I did it.

I'm officially a college grad.

Whoa.

The day was flawless; I couldn't have asked for a better ceremony. The speaker was incredible, I was surrounded by friends and family who I love dearly and we ended the night at Disney--like any night in my life should end.

While driving to campus, I was nauseous. Dad had the van, but it was filled to the brim with my family members (mom, dad, Scotty, Seth, Aunt Melissa, Grandpa and Cody). So I had to drive myself.

I blasted T. Swift's newest tunes--specifically "Long Live" because it seemed to fit the mood--and stopped at the intersection I've stopped at thousands of times. I ran over the events the afternoon would endure in my head. I had my cap, I had my gown, I had my tickets, I had my reader card...

And then I heard someone yelling at me from the car over.

It was a car full of girls; none of them I recognized. I frowned and tried to replay my actions in my head. Had I cut them off on accident? Did I have a flat tire? Was my gown hanging outside my car door?!

I rolled down my window while a girl yelled out, "Congratulations! You're graduating!" I smiled and glanced in the back seat where my gown hung delicately from the little hanging hook above my back door.

"Thanks," I smiled. They were turning, as well, also stopped at the red light. "Are one of you graduating?" They surely didn't look like it--they were dressed like they might be headed to a beach and they didn't look older than nineteen.

"Nah," she shook her head and scrunched up her nose. "We're freshmen. We're just now starting our second semester!"

I nodded with a grin. I remember being them. "I know you've probably heard it a thousand times," I begin with the all-knowing smile. "But don't wish it away! You'll be in my shoes before you know it."

They laugh and nod, obviously hearing it for the millionth time. The light turns green, they wish me well and vice versa and we drive away.

So here's to the girls in that car. May your college career be as fulfilling and entertaining as mine was, may you procrastinate on every single assignment and bite your nails to the core awaiting your final semester grades, may you be proud of your accomplishments and truly admire the work you have done in school.

But most of all--may you take in the moments, breathe a little and relish in the experiences. May you take your time and not rush the days.

Because your "today" will be here before you know it.

Don't blink.

Tomorrow is one of the biggest days of my life.

In fact, at this stage in my life, I feel confident saying that this is probably the most important day to date.

Tomorrow, I graduate from college.

The idea is so surreal to me--it's insane!

I'm sitting here and trying to remember where the time has gone.

Summer of 2007 is when I moved to UCF. I was seventeen-years-old, barely able to pick out my own clothes in the morning. The family moved me into Lake Claire Apartments--a campus "apartment" style of housing for incoming freshman. Jess, Jasmine, Alex and I had our ups and downs in that apartment, but we were inevitably a team. I remember going to go get dinner with Alex our first night in, wondering if we should call our moms and make sure it was okay. I remember sitting on the floor, crying with Jess about how much we missed home. I remember celebrating mine and Jazz's birthdays--setting off the fire alarm with the candles we weren't supposed to light. Time of my life.

Fall of 2007, I moved into Hercules, the LEAD building. I met so many new friends (and discovered hidden friendships with those from back home; like Chelsie, James, Joey, Sammy and Jason). I remember our midnight movie nights in Tiff and Mag's room. The 3:00am trips to the student union with Jason, where he taught me how to play poole. I remember driving clear across the state to go meet Nick Carter and Howie Dorough--mine and Chels's first nights clubbing. Then driving all the way back to Orlando, arriving at 5am, and waking up at 9:00am for biology. (I never took another nine o'clock AM class again.) I got hired at Disney, working at POTC. I never thought I'd be there for as long as I was. I made friends that will be my best friends for the rest of my life. Time of my life.

Spring of 2008, I stayed in Hercules. I was home-sick. Chels and I would stay up late, talking about home and how much we missed our families, talking about boys and how I wished Portland, Oregon was just a little bit closer. I fell in love. I did whatever I could to get him to love me back. I made decisions and jumped the gun on a couple of different things, but that didn't make my decisions any less valid. I was an adult and I learned that this semester. Time of my life; times that I'll never allow myself to regret.

Summer of 2008, I moved to Rosen. Oh, Rosen. I opted out of summer classes and took some time off. I worked. I played. I worked some more. Played even more. I remember the luau. I remember the random beach trips. I remember the late night phone calls and the texts that read: "MK for fireworks and Epcot after?" I remember dropping everything to be there, to just be in the moment. Time of my life.

Fall of 2008, living at Rosen. Adjusting to life away from everything I had known at Main Campus. Enjoying being an hour closer to home. Loving every minute of switching school work with play time at Disney. The joys of being a Disney cast member--my grades started to slip and my mind was exhausted from the ups and downs of Thunder Mountain and the twists and turns of the swirling, twirling tea cups. I made more choices; choices I still won't allow myself to regret. Why? Because it was the time of my life.

Spring of 2009, I knew I needed to move. I couldn't stay at Rosen because Rosen wasn't good for me. I stuck it out through the spring and summer. I remember weekend getaway trips to St. Augustine. I remember jumping off of castle walls. I remember the discovery of my love for writing. I remember changing my mind over and over again, because the life I wanted wasn't realistic--who could be a writer and survive in this world? Not I. I may as well surrender and go to school for teaching or even journalism; something much more realistic. Something stable. I was uncertain. I didn't know what I wanted. I turned to Mickey Mouse instead. Time of my life.

Summer of 2009, I took classes. I dabbled in Hospitality Management and thought that it would suffice. I figured working for a company like Disney would be an honor. I remember the phone call from a friend; he knew of someone who worked for the Disney Channel in California and thought he could make a lunch arrangement for me. In a matter of days, I had a flight to California with no idea how I would get around, where I would stay or what I would do. I was alone. I flew out with a girl I barely knew to a city I had never been and flew back with a best friend from a city I knew I was destined to live in. I made changes. I readjusted my life accordingly. I began to believe in myself. Time of my life.

Fall of 2009, I moved back to Main Campus and moved in with my brother. Ups and downs, like any siblings' relationships would be. I found myself back in California, yet again, only to re-affirm the fact that I would eventually be a West Coast girl. I wrote. I wrote, and wrote, and wrote some more. I stood up for myself. I wouldn't let them defeat me. Their comments of, "What in the world will you do with an English degree?" and "Well, how do you plan to make that work?" wouldn't defer me. I had my path in my head and I wasn't going to veer off now. Time of my life.

Spring of 2010, I felt strong. I built that girl: the one who believed in herself without a doubt in her mind. I continued to write; I applied for jobs I barely qualified for. I took classes I knew I would enjoy, that just so happened to apply to a creative writing major. I pushed myself to do my absolute best, and that I did. I had my first "house" party and invited my closest friends. We played games and watched movies; I felt like a real adult. I got my heart broken for the very first time. Time of my life.

Summer of 2010, I lived alone. My brother moved back to Tampa and I was a bit devastated, but I didn't let anyone know. I was in and out, still working for a rodent but doing my work for school simultaneously. I was burnt out--tired. My advisor informed me I'd be eligible for graduation in the fall. FALL?! I wasn't supposed to graduate until Spring. I thought it over for a few days, talked to the parents. We were a go. I filled out my intent to graduate and I waited. Time of my life.

Fall of 2010.

This semester has been a series of ups and downs, back and forths. I "haven't known what I want", but while thinking it over (after reminiscing for the last twenty minutes) I think I know. I think I know that I'm scared. I'm terrified. This is it; my last semester as a "college kid". Tomorrow I become a "college graduate". Kid and graduate are not synonyms, for you non-English majors. I might not know exactly what I want (blinded by fear, I suppose), but I know what I love.

I don't regret anything, and I guess in part I'm writing this because you shouldn't either. I've made choices that may have been the wrong ones in the past, but they've all led me to where I am today. I healed that broken heart from the spring. I met someone new, in fact...a couple people, actually. I've made best friends, I've grown apart from best friends, I've made enemies.

Bottom line is: I've made choices for myself. Making choices for yourself is the most important thing you could ever do, even if they are the wrong ones. Make them anyway! Live a little!

Don't blink. These moments are gone in an instant. Promise.

xo

- SM

What am I so afraid of?

Graduation is a month and two days away.

A month and two days.

I've been ready. I'm the girl who has always been so focused, she's spent every summer since she started college taking classes to figure out the path she wanted to take.

Well, now that girl is freaking out.

Is it real life that scares me? The real world? Maybe.

Is it the fact that I'll officially be on my own? Maybe.

Is it that I don't really know what I want to do with my life? Maybe.

Whatever it is, I'm ready for it to go away. I can't handle this anxiety anymore. I've been so lazy the last few days; not wanting to do homework, not wanting to study, not wanting to do anything. There's a part of me that wants to shake the other part and yell, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! You're so close!"

But then the other part wants to yell back, "Are you nuts?! This life is so carefree; so simple! Why in the world would you want to leave?!"

I'm scared.

I'm scared of leaving my family.

I'm scared of having to make decisions.

I'm scared of moving on.

But that's life. And so I need to suck it up and get over it. It's just so hard.

Stay in college while you can, kids. I thought I'd be throwing a party when it was over, but I'd rather get in my pajamas, crawl under the covers and watch a Disney classic.

I think I changed my mind.

I hope I'm ready for this.

Where the current takes you.

I wish I had all the answers. Some days I feel like that would make my life a million times easier.

I've been very back and forth lately with where I want to go in life, what I want to do and how I want to change the world--how I want to leave my mark.

For the last year, it's been LA, LA, LA. I fell in love with the state of California after just three days there; then, jumped a plane not even a month later and did it all over again.

But now--here I am--being faced with yet another opportunity. Only this one would take me to New York City. It's not my plan; it hasn't been a part of my plan.

I have so many questions for myself that I can't even answer.

The opportunity in NYC is easier, so is that why I'm interested in it?

NYC is on the same coast as my family; it'd be easier for them to see me and for me to see them. Is that why I want it?

But then I start to question my questions (talk about complicated). Does it matter why I'm considering NYC instead of LA? Does it really have to be instead? Can it be both? If one doesn't work out, I could always try the other, right?

My mom always seems to be my venting buddy. She doesn't complain and she typically has good advice. Therefore I instantly called her as soon as this opportunity that was new arose.

She told me a story that my dad had once told her, and I think it's worth sharing.

When my dad was 17, he got his license to fly planes. One of his trips in the air with his instructor, he got caught in a current. The current knocked him off his flying path and he started fretting, worrying what would happen if he couldn't get back on track. His instructor calmly told him not to worry, to just keep control of the plane. My dad tried to stay focused, but couldn't help but worry about the path of the plane. It wasn't the path he was supposed to be on. His instructor informed him to relax. He told him to let the wind carry the plane--it didn't matter if the plane was completely on track or not. The new path wasn't necessarily a bad one.

I can't even begin to express how crazy this analogy fits almost every aspect of life.

It's too perfect to even make up.

That analogy is the only thing keeping me sane in this moment. Because for now, I won't stress out that New York wasn't exactly on my agenda as of yesterday. As of today, it's something new and something worth thinking about. So for now? I'll just sit back and let the current take me to wherever it thinks I should go.

After all, what's the worst that could happen?

Dream big, friends. It might just be worth it in the end.

xo

-SM.