Chelly Beans

I hate Pixar.

There I said it. I’ve never been enchanted by all the computer animated wonder. Don’t get me wrong, Toy Story is my jam and The Incredibles is pretty great too, but overall I couldn’t care less.

What prompts this? The announcement of the sequel to Finding Nemo, my least favorite Pixar film. This probably stems from an irrational hatred of Dory, the world’s worst navigator.

I can identify with Nemo Sr. because I’m all business, no time for nonsense from a fish that can barely remember her name.I mean c’mon Lady Fish, admit your faults. This guy is on a realistically hopeless mission to save his son that probably would have died in a live action escapade and you’re ruining everything. EVERYTHING I SAY.

Dramatic? Well I never.

And you’re telling me the next one is all about her? No thank you. I’d rather gag myself with a rusty, polio-covered spoon. Let’s be honest, Dory has been mentally lost since she ran into the Titanic or something and suffered major brain damage. And now apparently she’s wandered off and we have to watch a film about an unlikely group of friends who band together to save their optimistic yet mostly not with it companion.

Please.

My feelings most likely play off of the fact that for YEARS after the original was released that people kept repeating “just keep swimming” like they were mockingbirds from hell determined to make the rest of us miserable.

Don’t misjudge me and call me a scrooge. I’m a Disney fanatic. I literally believe in magic and happy endings and miracles. I used to dream of being a princess. My happiest place on Earth IS Walt Disney World, specifically the Magic Kingdom.

But Pixar is like the red headed stepchild of Disney. A few gems here and there, but overall a lot of eh. Monsters Inc. is dece, and I’ll probably see Monsters University, but that’s it.

Don’t get me started on Toy Story 3. I cried like three times, and not in the good Disney way. THOSE TOYS LITERALLY ALMOST DIED IN A DEMON HELL FIRE. And then they were passed along to a girl with an overactive imagination who I think had Sid-like tendencies hidden. It’s not real life. Andy should’ve stayed a child. He didn’t need to grow up.

Regardless.

I realize I’m in the one percent of people who aren’t mesmerized my Pixar and I think I’ve finally accepted that.

Life is full of challenges. Every day we wake up and face new obstacles, triumphs, heartbreaks and miracles. Our expectations rarely match what reality throws at us.

Sometimes it’s easy to get wrapped up in everything that’s happening now and forget that some day things will be different. And by sometimes, I mean all the time. It takes a wiser person than me to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t try.

Where I’m at right now is nothing life how I envisioned my life. Yes, I’m employed, but not in the field I went to school for. Yes, I technically have a place to sleep but it’s not mine which kind of makes me homeless. Yes, I’m technically an adult but I still feel like a child stumbling through life.

But this won’t last forever.

I think Steven Chbosky said it best in his amazing book, The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

“This moment will just be another story someday.”

Everything we go through becomes a memory, a story to share with a new friend or your children or a stranger at a bar. Whether it breaks your heart or changes your life in the most magnificent manner, the result is the same. It’s just an occurrence that we reflect on as we get older and occasionally reminisce about.

By that logic, we should live each situation of our lives without fear or regret because everything that happens has a purpose. I shouldn’t panic about where I am because some day, I won’t be here. I’ll be laughing about that time where I didn’t know where I was going to live and I was working in retail.

So that’s my strategy. Whenever the doubt creeps in, threatening my very being, I remind myself that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, and when I’m older I’ll have great stories to share.

I’m not a tragedy. My life is not out of control. I’m ok.

If I ever felt like writing an autobiography, without a doubt I’d title it “It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time.” Every decision, good or bad, revolves around that exact thought process.

I’m an overthinker by nature. I  weigh the pros and cons of every choice exhaustively, which is, as a matter of fact, exhausting. Often times I think so much that the moment passes and I live in the land of what might have been if I could just make up my cussing mind.

What have I done that seemed like a good idea at the time? Dying my hair red. Quitting a job that actually related to my degree. Expressing feelings to boys. The list is endless, but the most recent choice may have been my worst. 

Moving home.

Sure, it seems like the smart choice. Why get trapped in a lease when you don’t have an adult job and there’s no guarantee you’ll get one in that area? Why continue struggling when you can cohabitate with your parental units for a short amount of time to save money? But you don’t realize how much of a life you leave behind.

I lived in Pittsburgh for a year while I finished school and completed my internship. Probably one of the best years of my life, a fact I didn’t realize until I walked into the new store I’m working at. I immediately ached for my old mall and my old coworkers and all the drama to be had there.

Some of the greatest moments happened when I lived in that apartment, including receiving my first choice internship, graduating college and finally kissing that boy that I’d liked, for like, ever.

I grew up there. I became an adult. I learned how to be self-sufficient. You don’t realize these things happened until your home, telling your parents where you’re going and when you’ll be home. The groceries in the fridge aren’t what you want to eat and the allure of being secure in your parents’ home feels more like a suction beam keeping you in prison.

A little overdramatic? I’ll take it because honestly it feels like being trapped in a life I don’t want and there’s no easy way to get out. Don’t get me wrong- I love my family and being close to them. That’s a given. It’s just not the life intended for me.

I never thought I’d miss the never ending construction and traffic, the nasty stairwell leading to my apartment or the ache of missing my family. See, missing your family is natural, but you can always go see them. Now I’m here with them and I can’t just leave to go back to my life that crumbles more and more each day that I’m away.

There’s a beauty in the struggle, even when you think you won’t make it, and I gave everything up for what I thought was the smarter and easier choice. Now here I am, more dissatisfied than ever.

I believe in God’s plan for my life, which means I believe there’s a reason I’m where here. I’m reminding myself every day that there’s something to learn from this and I need to suck it up. When I’m supposed to leave, the right opportunity will arise and I’ll take it.

That’s my silver lining. Things will work out exactly how they’re supposed to, and I’ll return to Pittsburgh someday.

Let’s just hope that day falls sooner rather than later.

There’s a really terrible place to be in life. You could even argue that it’s worse than being Canadian. You know what the worse part is? We’re all most likely there.

Love is great. Relationships can be cool. There’s something to be said for sharing your life with someone, but there’s something more to be said when the other person doesn’t want what you have to offer.

The lucky ones are liked back. Most of us fall for people who will never like us back and instead of being smart and evacuating the situation, we stay and torture ourselves. WHY.

Let me tell you why. We secretly hope that if we linger long enough they’ll see how great we are and change their minds. Maybe if we’re cute or funny enough at the right time we can make them realize we’re worth hanging out with.

Not the case. Ever.

We can’t blame the other person, they just don’t have those feelings, and they’re most likely being honest about it. Which sucks too, don’t get me wrong.

It’s a never ending cycle. Most likely while you’re trapped in feelings for someone who refuses to return them, there’s someone vying for your attention that you’re treating the exact same way. It’s tragic if you think about it. We just all want what we can’t have.

This cycle leads to the creation of the back up. The person we like denies us, so we go to the person who likes us for affirmation that we probably won’t die alone. They compliment us, and we act like we’re embarrassed while secretly hoping they say more nice things about us. Do we want anything with this person? Heck no. But for a brief time they remind us that we’re viable options too.

This behavior is wrong. We all get caught up in it, which means while we’re doing it chances are it’s being done to us. And it hurts.

You are a beautiful soul who should never settle being in someone’s reserve bin for a rainy day. You deserve to be the only option. And someday you will be.

Life is tough. Boys are stupid. But God has a plan. If someone doesn’t like you, it’s because there’s someone better waiting to meet you. It may not be tomorrow, but it will happen.

Rather than constantly checking our phones for interaction, let’s throw in the towel. Sometimes there’s value in quitting if it will help you. Chasing things too far will just make you sad.

We’re all that person, and we’ve all been there. And it never stops being unfortunate.

I’m a really passionate person, and sometimes passion leads to stupid fights. When I was a teenager all those years ago, I had my fair share of virtual disagreements which typically grew from my inability to see that anyone else had a valid opinion. 

With age comes wisdom that nothing can be solved that way. Nothing. Relationship problems and feelings can’t be properly sorted out via text and you can’t feel good about winning a fight on Facebook.

The problem is I can’t stop almost fighting online. It happens at least once a week. I see a post and immediately begin writing a scathing comment back. This is problematic for many reasons, mainly because I’m not as witty when I’m mad so instead of an intelligent retort, I sound like a beeyatch. After about 10 minutes of internal debate, I delete the comment and move on with my life.

Tomorrow my school is having a cancer research awareness day. Apparently wearing purple will help others see the need to find a cure. Personally, I think that’s garbage. Who isn’t aware that we need to solve this whole cancer issue? And why is there an organization that exists called Colleges Against Cancer? Are there Colleges for Cancer? No one would join that because people would probably throw rotten eggs at their face.

Awareness days in general need to get swept up by an apocalyptic tornado. Not wearing shoes won’t raise any money to buy some for kids who need them. That only gets you tapeworms and Hobbit feet. Maybe if you get sponsored to go without shoes for a day, but I don’t need some barefoot students walking around to tell me that many people don’t own shoes. I know that. I’m still not buying TOMS.

Ugh. Sorry about that. Few things annoy me more than thinking wearing a certain color will do anything to help a real problem.

So anyway, people are passionate about this whole wearing purple thing, and I almost responded to them. I had a really mean answer written, but then I thought that this person is my friend. Why burn that bridge because they choose to wear purple? We all need something.

And that’s basically why I stopped fighting online. I’m not very good at it and no relationship is worth ruining because of a post.

But I can guarantee that I’m wearing the opposite of purple tomorrow.

Before I write this, I’m going to preface it by saying I’m not bitter to anyone that’s committed and happy. In fact, being engaged terrifies me because you’re running towards something you can’t walk away from. 

That being said, I’m pretty sure the world is moving on without me. My best friend is getting married in 44 days. My sister is having a child in eight months. Two of my friends from high school, that is two separate girls, just got engaged. At some point everyone advanced to the next stage, but here I am. Still single.

And I’m happy. It just gets hard when you can’t relate to your friends. When everyone is growing and you just stay the same. It’s not like I don’t have offers, but I know what I want and it’s hard to go for anything else. But that’s a post for another time.

When did we reach this point? I remember being in high school and thinking marriage was so far away. My one newly engaged friend never even planned to get married, but here she is, madly in love and ready to take the next step after less than a year. It’s madness.

Maybe it’s because I’ve never felt what it’s like. My life has consisted of misguided feelings and a constant inability to be honest with myself. I’ve suffered two and a half broken hearts in my 22 years, and I ease the fresh wounds with sad love songs that I can’t actually relate to.

While everyone is getting engaged and writing shout outs to their soul mates, I’ll write some to the people that caused me to listen to Taylor Swift on repeat.

To the boy that broke my heart in eighth grade- I’m still upset that you broke up with me after one week. I loved you in the way only a 14-year-old can, but you didn’t appreciate it. I worked so hard to homewreck your relationship with that blonde bore who still isn’t as cute as me, and you still went back to her. You had me at the first compliment via AIM and held that power after you wrote the lyrics to ‘Beautiful Soul’ by Jesse McCartney in a note you secretly passed to me between classes. Every time you held my hand in secret I lit up, and had sweet dreams about the feeling of being admired. You’re married now, and she’s not as cute as me either.

To the boy who broke my heart senior year- It’s amazing how feelings can be distorted. We were a perfect match, and I wanted nothing more than to save you. We had a toxic relationship for years, and neither of us could admit the truth. The biggest thing we had in common ended up being our downfall-we both liked boys. I can’t say you took my formative years, because, like a lot of things, I readily gave them up. You’re out of the closet now, and as much pain as it used to cause me, I’m so glad you’re still my best friend. I don’t know where I’d be without you.

To the boy who broke my heart in college- Now, to be fair, you only get a half because my heart wasn’t technically broken. It was more like for the first time, I saw something I wanted, something I could relate to. I never even saw you coming. After the strangest of circumstances, you started paying attention to me. For awhile, I thought maybe this is what people who find happiness in someone feel like. Neither of us wanted anything serious, so we had fun. Some good, old fashioned fun. And then something happened. Maybe you saw that I had real feelings for you, maybe you knew I kind of texted your friend that time because I was so unsure of what was going on between us. Maybe it was because I drunkenly kissed that boy at the bar and told you like an idiot. Maybe, like a lot of people, you grew tired of me and moved on. I can handle any of those reasons. I just wish I knew. But you didn’t break my heart. That would be weird considering we didn’t even date, or hang out consistently for a month. I’m not crazy, I swears. Soon I’ll be gone forever, and I’m thankful you showed me the kind of guy I’m looking for. Kind of a bummer it couldn’t be you, but I’m sure God has something great planned for both of us.

If anyone actually reads this, I apologize. Don’t worry, it’s not about you.

Read more at http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/expectations-vs-experiences/#iXHr7JlE2sU0jXMk.99