kdot says sit down.

I've become weak. It's been so long since people in my life have regularly called me out on things I've done, said, thought, felt, whatever. I miss college a lot. A lot as in a great deal, and a lot as in frequently. If you had asked me during college if I thought I would've missed people yelling at me all the time I pretty obviously would have said no - or, more likely, hailllllll no.

I definitely don't miss the frequency of getting called out on things or, even more, the ways in which I was called out, but it was such an edifying - and in some ways reassuring - experience to know and have people in your life who were so concerned that you weren't be the best version of yourself that they would risk conflict and discomfort to let you know the ways you've come up short.

Since finishing undergrad, the number of relationships I've had where this happens has been steadily declining. Attributed mostly to having less friends in general since I've stayed in Bing, but also the relative age of my friend group decreasing as well. Or actually the problem is the relative age is staying the same, but my own age is still increasing. I miss having those purposeful relationships in my life where older friends would look out for you and let you know when you messed up if you didn't realize it yourself (yeah, I know, I can't believe I'm saying it either).

I can't believe the amount of times over the past year (years?) that I've thought less of someone else because they held a different opinion than I did. Oh you would rather sit home and watch tv tonight instead of going out and doing something? What a boring person. You don't like a movie whose soundtrack gives me chills? You're not cultured enough. You don't appreciate the same books I do? What a shame that you're of an inferior intellect than I am.

Where did this high horse come from and how did I get up on it?

It's really disappointing to see the ways my pride has affected not just my thoughts toward myself but my thoughts and actions towards people in my life who I'm really thankful are in my life. I spend way too much time wishing my friends were more like me when I should be appreciating them for the ways they find enjoyment and rest and excitement in their own lives.

How cool is it that every single person out there is different. Not only that they're different people born at different times in different places, but that every single individual out there has their own life, their own thoughts, their own personalities. Think about how inside of your own head you are. All of the thoughts you have in a single day. All of the feelings you've had, relationships you've had, random conversations with the cashier at the supermarket you've had. Every person out there has just as complex and experience-/heartbreak-/exciting-/love-/hurt-/thought-filled life as you. All of them.

That's the kind of thing that blows my mind.

Slowing down and stepping out from my own circlejerk of thoughts of how amazing I am is something that has occurred far too rarely over the past year, at least. Luckily, God has decided that going to grad school will be a great lesson in humility for me (it's hard, it sucks, I hate it, but it'll be worth it in the end in so many more ways than just another degree). Because I'd really like to stop belittling others - both in thoughts and words - for how they want to live their lives.

But if you think baseball is boring then it's because you don't understand enough about the game and don't pay close enough attention. I'm not moving from that stance any time soon.

emo post.

Everyone always tells me how smart I am but why doesn't it feel that way?

Grad school is hard.

independence.

I never actually realized how independent I was (am?) until I got to college. Surrounded by so many of my peers who had never had to provide for themselves, whether it be making meals or grabbing them from the dining hall, I couldn't help but look back at my childhood and being impressed with the way my parents raised me. I remember hearing with disbelief of friends who didn't do a single load of laundry themselves until they got to college, and instantly recalling how my mom taught me to do laundry as soon as I was tall enough to reach the knobs of the washing machine as long as I stood on the toilet that was right next to it.

Now, I always attributed this and the other things my parents taught me throughout my formative years to my being the fourth of five children and them being two full time workers. And in some ways that definitely did play a part, but at the same time my parents were intentionally raising five independent children who could do their own laundry, write their own checks, and order a couple pizzas for the family for dinner when necessary.

Bonus story: When Matt and I were on Long Island for Christmas, he asked our Aunt Theresa (oldest of my mom's six siblings) which of the seven kids was the laziest. Her reply: "Oh that's easy. Your mother. She was always getting other people to do her work. That's why you guys grew up having to do so many chores!" L. O. L.

This was hilarious to us. We've only seen our parents as constant workers, whether at their jobs or at home, so hearing our mom did the least work as a kid was really quite a treat. But the fact is, we know how to care for cats and dogs, we know how to change diapers, we know how to set up doctors appointments and show up on our own, and (if you count H&R Block) we know how to do our taxes.

So this post is really just boasting of my own independence and how proud I am that I can so much for myself, but it's also a testament to how well my parents raised me and my siblings, and I really admire them for that.

At this point in the post you're probably saying to yourself, "Wow I always knew Mary was so cool and know I think she's even cooler! But why did she put a picture of Christmas stockings for this post...?" Well, first of all, yes, I know, thank you. And secondly, you'll notice how flawless and beautiful the writing on Matt's stocking is, and, comparably, what a hot mess mine is.

It turns out that when my mom was writing out my name with the glue and then putting the glitter on it, I was very eager to "help" and I ending up somehow smudging my name when my mom had warned me not to touch it multiple times. Because I was too impatient to sit around and let someone else do all the work.

Well, Merry Belated Christmas and Happy Belated New Year!