20 Things I have learned this year

1. Leave more than you take.
2. Honesty is beautiful. (“Everyone who is honest is interesting” – Sagmeister)
3. Eccentric people are usually the most brilliant. I admire eccentricity.
4. My favorite smile is an involuntary one.
5. Joy outweighs pain.
6. I’d rather be challenged than comfortable.
7. You can’t wait for the future.
8. People don’t think about you as much as you think. Don’t worry about it.
9. Growing up is for trees.
10. Music & concerts.
11. Understanding is a wonderful present.
12. Taking a chance is easier than you think.
13. There is still an incredible amount of talent, creativity, and knowledge to learn from one another. (Having internet doesn’t hurt either).
14. If you’re going to get lost, do it in a book.
15. Making friends is harder now than it was in kindergarten (disregard if you’re currently in kindergarten).
16. Patience. It will be worth the wait, I’m sure of it.
17. I have an enormous capacity for real dialogue, I am incredibly burdened by small talk.
18. Enthusiasm is valuable.
19. Doing things outside my comfort zone, even when I have disliked it, has always been worth it.
20. If a clock gets hungry, it goes back four seconds.

i believe in believing in things. i can’t wait to see you all again.

(inspired by Stefan Sagmeister)

Love, Jacklynn

The Ever Elusive Bob

Bob Darling,

I do not know how to contact you. I have tried your email to no avail so now I am doing desperate things like say….this. I am going to be visiting a dear friend of mine, Magdalena, in Alicante and I would hate to be in Spain again and not have the opportunity to see you and be a one minute spy on your new and, I am sure, utterly fabulous life. I adore you the ever elusive Bob. I am searching for you. And know you are always welcome here. There is a bottle of wine and a beach towel with your name on it. Des grandes bises cherie.

Your friend who is waving at you out her window because we are practically neighbors,

Sarah

Holy wow, I went to church today

…voluntarily.

Probably the least churchy, but-definitely-a-church church I’ve gone to. It was pretty ridiculous. Matt sings in the choir for a Unitarian Universalist church a couple of blocks down from us and he invited me to come to service with him this Sunday. I agreed because I was pretty sure that UU was the kind of church that whose official stance was “or whatever” and because Matt had given such a compelling review of his experience.

I walked down the street with Matt not really sure what to expect. I half assumed it would be wildly contemporary and there would just be a bunch of rugged, athletic-looking Denverites with their babies kangaroo-pouched to their chests and snowboards on under their arm so the moment the service was over they could jet pack to the nearest mountain and “shred” down it. You know. That. But also that they were just the kind group of generous people who furrowed their brows when they hear something sad.

When we finally walked into the grey-brick building, we went to a table to receive name tags. I have an automatic aversion to non-business related name tags because it usually means that I’ll have to meet other people and smile politely. It was a signal that this was indeed a friendly group of people–which was the case, at the beginning of the service we had to meet the people around us. What was not typical, however, was that after receiving our name tag the cardigan-clad, middle-aged lady wanted to remind us about the showing of “Papers” upstairs after the service. It’s a documentary about immigration injustice that their Unitarian Immigration Justice Circle had selected. There would be pizza. What?! Where was I? What kind of church was I in? Documentaries? Immigration reform?! These thoughts were buzzing in my head as we made our way to the chapel. It also made me excited. Matt had told me that their January topic is “peace,” had talked about the war, had a really great reading from a Holocaust victim, and that, basically, it was a really intellectual and enlightening sermon.

The chapel looked similar to the catholic chapels I am oh-so familiar with. There were chairs with hymn books, an alter with candles, banners along the side with slogans like “salvation in our life time” and “there is a unity that makes us one.” Missing from my mental picture of what a church should look like were: a man dying and people in bedsheets frowning at me (oh, to be raised Catholic).

Let me say this honestly, I was made a bit uncomfortable by the remnants of church around me. Not that I have any ill-will with those who are religious or religion in general, but I also don’t have any pleasant personal association with it myself. The banners made me feel like I was in a building where emotions were going to be talked about…words like “worship” and “prayer” were the little Order of Service pamphlets that were on placed on our seats…these uncomfortable, resistant feelings came despite myself. There was that edge of reluctance and that wall or cynicism that my liberal ideologies were fighting against in that place. Which isn’t fair, I know it. Out of all my friends, I think I behave the most conservatively, but…I don’t know, that’s just me and I’ve always been in the party of “do what you want.”

So how was it you asked? Very mixed. It felt strange to me, like, I could not help but laugh at some parts and I just know that, if Carissa was there beside me,  I could have made her repress-giggle her pants off at shared side-long glances at things that were happening. At the same time, the lectures and poems were so inspiring I wanted to scribble down notes.

1. In conjunction with Martin Luther King, Jr. Day tomorrow, our sermon dealt with immigration reform and racial injustice

2. Our opening Hymn, Spirit of Life,  was sang in English and Spanish

3. During a “Time of All Ages” session, when they call all the children up to introduce them to what they’ll be learning in Sunday school before they are sent off, an old couple read to them out of an Amnesty International picture book called We Are All Free “a book celebrating the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.”

“What if you you went home and your mom wasn’t there?” they introduced the topic, “Or your father? Your brother? Your sister? What if one of your friends just disappeared?” Amnesty. International. In church. Whoa. They are barely even welcome on UW’s campus.

4.  A reading of a poem called “Exiles” by Juan Felipe Herrera.

5. “Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Catos)” by Woody Guthrie as an interlude sung by, what else: an older gentlemen with a guitar strapped ’round him and jowls that shook with compassion as he sang. Our little agendas had an insert with the chorus for us to sing along to and a brief synopsis of the event that inspired the song.

Thoughts? It was all very strange to me. At this point I was pretty amused, but not in a belittling way–I hadn’t worked out how I should feel yet. At the same time, I felt like I had learned a lot, and was struggling to take notes on all the names and thoughts I heard. The sermon that came next was really spectacular. Although she is still a ministerial internal, she was phenomenal. She was so well-spoken and gave a really compelling lecture encompassing Martin Luther King, Jr., immigration, social inequality, and racial injustice. She was passionate and so sincere in her outrage and her call for us change and inspire change that I think everyone shared her outrage, but also felt guilty that they hadn’t thought about what she was saying before. There were statistics. People let out church murmurs of outrage and sympathy and surprise…I honestly felt like I was at an academic lecture. Not that needs to be said to justify it’s worth otherwise, just telling you how I felt. I felt like a student again.

During the lecture she read this poem by Carl Wendell Hines that I thought was really wonderful, in a tragic way:

Now that he is safely dead,
Let us Praise him.
Now that he is safely dead,
Let us Praise him.
Build monuments to his glory.
Sing Hosannas to his name.

Dead men make such convenient Heroes.
They cannot rise to challenge the images
We would fashion from their Lives.
It is easier to build monuments
Than to make a better world.

So now that he is safely dead,
We, with eased consciences, will
Teach our children that he was a great man,
Knowing that the cause for which he
Lived is still a cause
And the dream for which he died
Is still a dream.

After the some closing ceremonial stuff, we were lead out with the song Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing, which our pastor told us is considered the black anthem, and she was tearing up while singing it.

What do you think? The verdict is still out for me. I want to go again next week and see Matt sing (they only have a choir every other week). While at the same time I thought it was wholly interesting, not sure that I’m much of a church-going gal. These are hang-ups, I know. I like to be involved in stuff…I’m just going to ride it out, see what happens after next week. I mean, I could really be part of community if I wanted to, they have all these hip, contemporary outside activities like yoga, cooking classes, and karate in additional to choir practices, women’s circles, and “Hope Not Dope” events.

Well wishing from the ‘Mericas,

Jacklynn

A Day In The Life

My dearest friends,

I feel incredible guilt for worrying you with my last, semi-unnecessary and highly dramatic post. But that is nowhere near the quilt I feel for going a-wall this last month. Once separated from the immediate comfort of being constantly surrounded by hoards of “friends” it is easier to delineate those you need to cling to from those who, though wonderful at the time, will slip away. And you, my precious friends, should know that I have no intention to stop clinging. I love this blog. Yes, maybe we all posted more at the beginning, but it still serves its purpose, which was to remind us all that we are never alone. For me, just the existence of this blog is like a security blanket. In moments of loneliness or homesickness I can feel immediate consolation from watching videos of Jackie’s sweet face. In addition to the comfort of your guys’ stories it feels incredible to know that when I have stories to share they will be read. Who could ask for anything more?

My life has changed in ways that three months ago, I would have considered impossible. I think that situations like break-ups and foreign countries force youngins, like us, into some sort of hyper-drive-maturation. The time that it would normally take to learn a “grown-up-life-lesson” is so reduced that it can be hard to keep up. My French academic education had taught me the best ways to inconspicuously sleep while appearing to be taking notes and my French life education? Well that has been…let’s just say…much more instructive. So prepare yourselves for an incredibly long post, which may need to be read in installments (I tried to break it up with headers and labels and that sort of organization type stuff). It has taken me days to write but I tried to cram one month of Sarah into a singular blog post.

Wyoming on the Map

I never knew I had pride-worthy-party-stamina, but let me just be conceded for a moment and say, this girl knows how to do it.

Sunday Night:

I started out the night with wine at my favorite bar, Rebuffy Pub, with my friends Emma and Sarah. We then went to a concert and met up with, my polish friend Magdalena and her truly fabulous British gang. The band is named The Subways. They are from London and while they are not my favorite music to listen to alone in my room while I am painting my nails or laying around naked, they are my favorite kind of music to see live. It was one of those concerts where there is a suto-mosh-pit and people throw unnecessary elbows. You know, chockfull of those types who love to mosh but would surely pee themselves if they were to get mixed up in a real one, like at a Nine Inch Nails concert or something similarly heated. I had an absolute blast and I learned a very important lesson, the boy selection at these sorts of events is fantastic. While the mosh-types are too sweaty and too excitable I discovered there are a lot of soulful-types who are super cute and stand on the outskirts waiting for girls like me to notice them. Uh huh.

His name was Arnaud. I noticed him because of his glasses, his nose and also because I caught him staring at us. In France, a large group of rowdy and drunk English speakers attracts beaucoup attention, usually negative but in this case he seemed to be more amused by our antics than irritated. So, being that I am single, was slightly drunk, and liked his glasses I approached him and made ultra awkward but slightly charming conversation, seeing as ultra awkward but slightly charming conversation is my specialty. The dialogue went something like this,

Me: “Hi. How are you?”

Him: “Good. How are you?”

Me: “I am excited for this concert. Do you like them?”

Him: “They are my favorite.”

Me: “Oh, so this is a sort of special occasion for you then?”

Him: “I guess you could say that.”

Me: “Well I hope it is everything you dream of.”

Silence

Him: “Where are you from.”

Me: “I’m American.”

Him: “I see.”

Me: “I want to learn French.”

Him: “Well you speak very well.”

Me: “Really because sometimes I feel like my French doesn’t work.”

Him: “You manage.”

Me: “You speak French perfectly.”

Silence

Him: “Do you like the South of France?”

Me: “I love it here. Where are you from?”

Him: “Paris. I like it here too.”

Me: “What do you study?”

Him: “Law.”

Me: “Oh shit. Is that really really hard?”

Him: “I guess.”

Me: “That is impressive. You must be smart. What’s your name?”

Him: “Arnaud.”

Me: “Huh.”

Him: “Arnaud.”

Me: “Wow. That is complex. Will you spell it for me?”

Him: “A-r-n-a-u-d.”

Me: “Ah! Like a French version of Arnold! That’s the first time I ever heard that name. Cool. Well, I’m Sarah.”

Him: “It’s nice to meet you.”

The concert starts.

Me: “Well I want to go dance with my friends now and get another drink. I’ll talk to you later, ok? I hope that this concert is good for you.”

Him (with laughter): “Ok.”

Through out the concert I made many mistakes, which ruined all chances of him finding me charming. 1: I drank too much. 2: Magdalena and I had a dance off right next too him, during which I am positive my underwear was blatantly in the world. 3: I kept waving and smiling. By the end of the concert we had had three more short and equally awkward conversations and I had decided I needed to get his number. There had to have been other ways I could have done this but, unfortunately, I did it my way. Once we were all outside the club I approached him all giggly and wine flushed and said,

Me: “So, I’m sorry if this is too direct but…I have a French cellphone…and I can use it…do you want my number?”

Him: “It’s in the ticket.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Him: “The ticket, on the car, take it.”

It was at this point I noticed there was a Subways concert ticket just casually sitting next to him on the bed of the truck he was leaning against. But because I have never understood anything about suave, I just stared at it. He picked it up and put it in my hand. Only then did I realized he had written his number on the ticket.

Me: “Oh wow. Ok. Uh…Gotta go now.”

I literally ran. Hope he didn’t see that part, though I’m sure it was hard not to. The ticket read,

You can calle me if you can. 06-07-44-62-87

I was so proud of myself. Sarah Varca: flirt master.

Monday Night:

In Montpellier one of the biggest party nights is Monday. When I asked someone if there was a particular reason for this phenomenon he replied, “We had to work today and we have to go back to work tomorrow.” Obvious logical reasoning

Tuesday Night:

Spain says hey. It’s doing well, too.

Dear ladies,

I’m sending you all my love from Spain here in this post. Sarah, I’m really worried about you. I don’t know if I have your e-mail address, but if you send it to me, I’ll send you more personalized love. For now, just know that you’re going to be okay, that you are a wonderful person just the way you are, and that any guy who doesn’t know he wants to be with you doesn’t deserve you anyway. It’s really, really true. My heart is with you. How can I help?

Oh. *Sigh* Jacklynn, I miss you. I didn’t realize what a pleasure it was to see you almost every day in Chaucer and in other random places. You have always treated me so well. Thank you for everything from your food to your friendship. You’re so beautiful.

I miss you all. Katie, thanks for always listening so well to me and for making my heart leap with joy. Carissa, thank you for listening to me with a smile and for being an example of how to be a beautiful, poised, perfect person. What amazing ladies you all are.

Everything is really good here. I just feel overwhelmed. I feel like there is too much in life. How do you go about picking what you want? This is not a grave problem. It’s actually a really cool problem to have. Life is too good. It’s too rich. There are too many cool fields of study, too many great jobs, too many brilliant and inspirational people. How does a 22-year-old go about picking?

Right now I either want to be a personal trainer, an organic gardener, a historian, a linguist, or an entrepreneur. So I think I’ve got things pretty slimmed down, don’t you think? Bleh. I feel like in 57 lifetimes I still couldn’t do and see all I want to do and see. Does anyone else have this problem?

I miss you all.

America says ‘hi.’ It’s doing well.

I’m hesitant to post my number 18, but to be fair most of my posts have been short because 1) I’m in America and you guys know what that’s all about 2) I pretty much tell you guys everything.

I mean, I could tell you how the food here is so different (mainly consisting of Susan’s diet food) and the unique culture here (the traditional garb of the land is athletic clothing and a smug look). But, you’ll just have to use your imagination.

So anyway, I’m going to tell you everything. Don’t hold your breath. (This post will definitely detour people of the regular public)

First of all, I’m pretty sure you guys only have a vague idea of what I do besides take pictures of myself in my tiny office on photobooth and posting them on here every now and then. So, at my full-time job my official title is Creative Community Lead  and as I attempt to describe to people passing through the building: I manage the company’s social media, marketing, communication, and design work. I also support the company by helping them source new talent and a develop/refine company programs. Basically, I do what I naturally do anyway and they give me a multitude of random, different projects which I slavishly devote myself too. I really like it. It’s challenging, fun, and there’s a lot of variety.

So, if you wanted to know what working in the working-worky-work world is like, here goes: I wake up and get ready for work and it takes me a monstrously long time not because of anyone thing, but because I’m so ponderous in the morning–It doesn’t actually take me that long to get ready, even if I dress up, even if I curl my hair. I just linger a lot. Something you fashionistas would appreciate is that I get to dress up every single day. Not in business clothes, but in whatever I want, and you know that it’s never casual because that’s not my deal. It’s fun. I’ve worked their for two months and haven’t worn the same outfit twice yet. Which actually might be a little disgusting to lay persons.

Anyway, so I commute to work around 8:15 because any earlier and traffic would be horrible. I’ve tried. I arrive around 9am and see if Mustard is still alive. Get set up, have a 15 minute meeting (daily “stand up” according to “SCRUM” managerial style) and pitter off to work on the little projects I’ve been assigned. At 10:30 I am usually starving, but I maintain until it’s  appropriate to eat at noon. At which time I pad upstairs to the kitchen area to eat and work some more. I force myself to go upstairs in order to meet other people and it’s working. Except now I’ve decided to use my lunch break to do work for other companies I’m freelancing for.

>> Since last I spoke in detail, I described my three new, Colorado jobs. Let me tell you right now that those aren’t my only jobs and that I have recently aquired even more freelance work. To date, in addition to this full-time job, I am also a design consultant for four other companies and a graphic design intern for the LoDo District. Straws are piling on camel’s backs, Carissa, needles too.

After lunch, the day goes by much faster. Possibly because I’m not desperately waiting for lunch. So I finish of the day. Trudge home. Eat diet meals with Susan. And either work some more or be incredibly unproductive whiling away the hours in front of my computer. Even though I always have the best intentions to go to bed early, I usually don’t and only get 6-5 hours of sleep.

Since I’m usually too exhausted during the week and also because I only have the smallest puddle of friends, I usually only do things on the weekend.

That that’s “Oh the places I go” and now here’s “and the people you’ll meet”:

Matt. I adore him. You know the one I’m talking about? The strikingly handsome fellow I met at Tour de Fat? Afraid of whales? We share a certain sense of humor and I think he’s trying to adopt me as his little protégé. He claims that he use to be exactly like me two years ago (nervous, perfectionist, stressed, push-over, hyper over-achiever…) and that I can reform! Like many people I admire, I am terribly frightened that he’ll realize how much cooler he is than me and drop me like a hot potato. But he has tentatively agreed to be my roommate when his lease is up in February so I kind of think he’s stuck with me.

Matt. In disguise.

Kyle. I met Kyle and his friend Hugh on one of my arranged blind friend-dates. I had a good feeling about Kyle because, while trying to arrange a meet-up, we exchanged a bunch of messages where it was clear that he was interesting and smart enough to be witty. As in, we could actually tell obscurely-referenced-jokes to each other. (I’m sure he’d be chagrined to read this…). Anyway, it’s really nice to talk to Kyle because he’s actually my age and is actually going through the strange limbo that I’m going through. The post-graduation-what’s-happening-where-did-everyone-go? phase. The day we all met up we went out to eat at a Thai place, went to an odd event at the Denver’s modern art museum, and capped off the evening by going to party where we all felt distinctly out-of-place. I feel like Kyle gets me.

Kyle & Hugh

Matthew & Crystal. The adorable couple. This is the other Matt I met at Tour de Fat and his lovely wife. They are both great fun to hang out with, especially with the more exciting Matt as a buffer. Funny, energetic, and interesting. Unlike many other couples you meet: great together, great individually.

Matthew & Crystal

The people at work. I’ve met a myriad of people at work that I admire deeply. I work in a building that is rented out by different companies so that we can all kind of work together in a creative community. All of the companies in the building are extremely unique and cool—-many very successful start-ups. They mostly center around action sports, if not directly, at the very least all of the employees of the company happen to have been born on snowboard with skis for arms. Or something similar. I don’t think I’ve really connected with anyone in the same, effortless (“effortless”) manner that I have with people I’ve met outside of work. They are all super nice and I would love to be their friend, but I also feel like they don’t know what to do with me. Kind of like Sarah at Applebee’s. If everyone at Applebee’s was into action sports and being cool. I really feel like the people at work are the essence of Colorado: Kind, generous, wildly cool, social, chill, and athletic. I love Colorado, I really do. I feel like I understand Colorado and am super excited for the day I get my dorky license plate. But I don’t think Colorado gets me. I’m ok with it though, it’ll just take some time on both sides. I think they are all astoundingly wonderful, ambitious people I feel privileged to work with.

And one thing I’ve noticed is that I’ve hardly met anyone my own age. I felt a lot of internal pressure to graduate on time, but since graduating late is really the norm now, I’m kind of in the world looking around and no one else like me is here. I don’t know how to feel about that. On the one hand, I don’t feel like I have time to act like a college kid anymore. On the other hand, I didn’t have time when I was actually in college so: BRING IT ON. I want to go on adventures! I want people to call me up out of the blue and say likes go to X and do Y right now! I want you guys! I’m going to try to take adventure into my own hands, by I miss having my go-to friends for a great time.

This embarrassing, but hilarious photo of me being sad.

But the world’s gotta know what you have to give :). Have the best of times out there!

ok ok ok, I’m done. Guess how many words!? 1429. That’s an essay, yo.

If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, then

Tone deaf,
Jacklynn

Happy birthday, dear Carissa!

I hope this cheers everyone up.

Your musically challenged friend,
Jacklynn

Help!

Now is the moment when I hope that you guys are the only people who read this blog. I know that the internet is a dangerous place to share information you don’t want circulated so I will delete this post in a day or two or as soon as I can breath again…

You ready Jackie? Because I know you wanted this to be happy time…but I am in major melt down crisis freak out can’t stop crying time. And I NEED my friends to tell me I am going to be ok.

 

 

 

My boyfriend doesn’t love me anymore.

 

 

 

I don’t understand what happened. Help. Help. Help. Don’t freak out too much though. I’m not going to jump in front of the tram or anything but I am going to eat myself to death. What am I going to do? I thought he was the one.

Your friend who feels like a sack of heartbroken shit,

Sarah

ALRIGHT, YOU ASKED FOR IT

YOU GUYS. YOU WANT SOME NONSENSE ON THIS HERE BLOG??? YOU SICK OF SUBSTANCE?????? OK, OK, OK I HEAR YOU. I WILL APPEASE.

SHOOT, THAT WAS AS FAR AS MY PLAN WENT. I WANT TO MAKE YOU GUYS SMILE SO SMILE GOSH DARN YA SMILE!

YOU ARE LADIES, WHO ARE ALSO GREATIES, ONE DAY YOULL HAVE BABIES, WELL MAYBIES, YOURE A BUNCH OF HOTTIES WHO NEVER LOOK GAWDYIES AND HAVE LOTS OF SMARTIES. SOME OF YOUZ IZ TALLSIES OTHERS SMALLSIES BUT YOU ALL GOT BIG HEARTS IN YOUR BODIESZZZZZZZZZ.

HAVE THE BEST DAY POSSIBLE! TODAY IS HERE AND TODAY IS GRAND! MUAH.

LOVE. FROM ME. TO YOUZ.

K.T.