old enough for adventure

This weekend, to celebrate our 5 year anniversary, my boyfriend and I took a weekend trip to two national parks we had never visited—Bryce Canyon and Zion. Now that we have returned, different than we were before, I find myself reflecting on how fortunate we are to be able to adventure.

When we didn’t live in Colorado, this trip wouldn’t have been possible. Certainly not with just a long weekend. Much more planning would have been required, more time and effort. The drive from Kansas would have been 16 hours. From Michigan? We definitely would have needed to fly, and then rent a car, which would make everything more expensive. But now that we’re in Colorado, we are so much closer to a lot of really incredible national parks—even this trip, which required a 9-hour drive, was very doable for us midwesterners.

All in all, the trip was perfect. We stayed in Cedar City, Utah, which was about an equal distance between the two national parks. Yes, it was a long drive there (we were amidst all the weekend ski traffic, which slowed us down) but at least it was beautiful. The 70 headed west goes right through the mountains, and we found ourselves amazed at the incredible beauty we were seeing, when we hadn’t even reached what we had left home to find yet.

The journey across Colorado was stunning, but I found myself even more impressed with Utah. They have snow-covered caps too, but they’re like “this isn’t even what you’re here to see. Just wait.” Utah has five national parks, but sometimes we were in awe that what we were driving through wasn’t all protected land. No offense to Kansas, or the Midwest, but Utah is definitely the most enjoyable state to journey through.

And then, of course, came time for the parks. We went to Zion National Park first, simply because it was closer. Part of our reason for going to these parks in the middle of February is because it’s the offseason. Usually in Zion, you have to leave your car outside the park and take the shuttle bus into the park. But because we went in winter, the shuttles weren’t running yet. We could take our own vehicle into the park and travel around at our own pace. Of course, even though it’s the off-season, that doesn’t mean Zion is empty—we definitely had to be wary of parking and space. So we got there super early (read—9 am) and went straight to the most popular easy hike in the park: the Zion Overlook Trail. We trekked up the short but strenuous trail to see what I can only describe as a view into the last millennia. I could seriously imagine a dinosaur walking through the canyon, a pterodactyl flying down from above. It felt perfectly preserved, a peak back into an age we weren’t around to see. It was surreal.

After we stared at the view for long enough (the more we looked, the harder it was to turn away) we headed back down into the canyon, and drove along the scenic route. We did a couple more hikes—half of the Sandy Beach loop, just until we had a view of the Patriarchs, and the Riverside Walk, where we watched a few brave souls begin the long trek through the Narrows. The longest hike we did at Zion was the Kayenta Trail to the Middle Emerald Pool, which wasn’t as emerald-toned as I would have expected. But it was all worth it to see more of this crazy place. We spent about 5 hours there in total, and while we felt like we saw all that we came to see, we’re also already thinking about what we would do next time.

brave explorers beginning the journey to the narrows

“emerald” pool

the kayenta trail

us and the boys (the patriarchs – from left to right, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob)

The next day we went to Bryce Canyon National Park. This one was a little bit further away, but we decided to take the scenic route, which turned out to be an excellent idea. Once again, we were treated to beautiful views on relatively quiet roads through rural Utah. We imagined what life would be like if we lived here, where the one road to town would close if there was too much snow—would we ride snow mobiles instead? Just turn around and try again the next day? Luckily the weather was clear, and we once again arrived to the park early (our definition).

snow-covered view on the scenic route

Bryce Canyon is different in that it’s largely unassuming. When we arrived at Zion, we were met with sweeping views, but as we approached and entered Bryce, all we saw was trees and snow. But we had an idea of what was hiding just beyond the ridges, so we trusted the process and went to our first trailhead, which launched from Sunset Point. We decided to do one longer hike, and we needed to start with it, because if we waited until the afternoon we would talk ourselves out of it. The first view of Bryce Canyon is almost… overwhelming. It’s hard to take in and process exactly what you’re seeing. And it’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, so your brain doesn’t have anything to compare it to. As we began our descent into the canyon, that’s when wonder began to turn to awe.

Completely opposite to our experience in Zion, Bryce was covered in snow. The Thor’s Hammer side of the Navajo loop was slick switchbacks all the way down—I was glad no one else was with us to watch me waddle down the trail. As we walked amongst the hoodoos, it truly felt like we were traversing an alien planet. Despite the various signs explaining how the canyon’s odd spires were formed, it still feels hard to believe. There’s one rock that even looks like a statue of Queen Victoria—it’s different enough to not be an exact replica, but it’s still similar enough to make you question.

descending on the navajo trail

switchbacks galore

me and thor’s hammer

traversing the narrow path

under a low-hanging rock

queen victoria herself

For a short period of time, when we reached the “Queen’s Garden” part of our trail, the beauty surrounding us seemed to offset any pain and soreness from the hike. We were going uphill, but it didn’t feel like it. All we were focused on was taking as many photos as possible, trying to capture both the intricacies of the rock formations and the vastness of the view. That did wear off eventually though, as we worked further and further up to the rim of the canyon. My knees cracked, my feet ached, my face was flushed from effort and the bright sun. But we took it slow, and somehow we made it up to Sunrise Point. I sat on the wooden bench and ate a protein bar, looking out at the incredible scenery. It was probably one of the best meals I’ve ever had.

approaching the queen’s garden

take only pictures, leave only footprints (and writing in the snow)

one of many tunnels on the trail

the view from Sunrise Point

Once we finished the short walk between Sunrise and Sunset Point, we were able to get back in our car to just drive through the park. This scenic drive was different from Zion—not consistent top-tier views, but rather pull-off points to stop at admire. We didn’t stop everywhere, but we made sure to hit the major spots—the Natural Bridge, Rainbow Point, Yovimpa Point, Bryce Point, and Inspiration Point. Of all the highly regarded vista views, we liked Bryce Point the most. It gives the greatest all-encompassing views of the canyon. Once again, we could have stayed there watching for hours. But again, after about 5 hours, we turned back to our scenic route, and began to head home.

rainbow point

the natural bridge

inspiration point

bryce point

One thing about Bryce Canyon that I can’t shake is that it’s temporary. The park itself emphasized that right now is not the final form of the rock formations—eventually, they all will collapse, leaving only reddish-orange hills in their wake. It could be in thousands of years, but it could also be tomorrow. How strange, to think that millions of people before me have seen these same rocks, but one day someone will be the last. How fortunate we are to see it while it stands.

Lockie and I are already thinking of where else we want to go, what other national parks we can visit. Maybe we’ll visit Arches and Canyonlands in November; maybe Yellowstone and Grand Tetons next May. We’ve got the bug—we know what beautiful things exist, and we must see more, while we still can. People think that our natural phenomena will be around forever, but they won’t. We might not have our whole lives. So we have to go when we can, no excuses.

On the long drive back through the Colorado mountains, a song that I love came on—‘Never Grow Up’ by Taylor Swift. This song often makes me emotional, thinking about how I didn’t want to grow up, but I had no choice. Today, however—I found myself thinking about how lucky I am to be grown up enough for adventures. Sure, I went on adventures with my parents, but now I can plan my own. I can forge my own experiences. Never before had I thought about that part of growing up. I’m young enough to be silly, to be durable, to have fun, but I’m also old enough to adventure. And to have sore knees. I think that’s what most folks would say is right in the sweet spot.

– Abby Among the Hoodoos

a “good” movie—oscars preview 2024

This year, 2024, marked somewhat of a return to movie theatres for a lot of Americans. It’s no secret that Hollywood has struggled to bounce-back from the effects of the pandemic, but this year, the movies are back. This summer’s craze of Barbenheimer—the dual release event of two very different movies, Barbie and Oppenheimer—drove people back into the world of cinema. And I think most people who saw both movies loved them, because they reminded us of the fun of going to the theatre and showed us just how good our movies could be.

So, when the Academy Award nominations came out, they created a lot of discourse—I think, because more people than ever could contribute to the conversation. They may not have seen all 10 Best Picture nominees, but they definitely saw 2 of them, and those two were expected to dominate a lot of the categories. So when Margot Robbie missed out on a Best Actress nom, and Greta Gerwig didn’t get a nod for Best Director, people were understandably surprised. Frustrated, even.

However, the dialogue from the film community—the folks who are active on Letterboxd, the ones who always see all the Best Picture films, the people who added a film studies minor in college—told us that we shouldn’t have been surprised, that our perception of these performances was wrong. “Barbie was Greta Gerwig’s worst film”, and “the Best Actress category is loaded, Margot’s performance is not better than any of the women who were nominated.” Our anger is unjustified, our idea of a “good” movie is wrong.

This annoyed me greatly, for reasons I’ll get into. But at the time of the Oscars nominations, I had only seen three of the 10 Best Picture films, so I figured before I weighed in, I should make sure I’m informed on all the movies in the conversation. Now, I have watched all 10 movies, and I’m going to provide you with my thoughts on all of them, as well as what awards I think they’ll win, and whether I think they are “good” movies.

10. Maestro

Bradley Cooper’s magnum opus, Maestro is a dramatic biopic 6 years in the making. It is focused on the life of Leonard Bernstein, an American composer and conductor famous from the mid- to late-1900s. Cooper stars in the film as well as directs, and even helped write the script, so the movie really is his baby. Let me tell you why I have this movie ranked last.

While the performances of Bradley Cooper and Carey Mulligan, who plays Bernstein’s wife, are incredible, the movie itself isn’t nearly as gripping as a 2+ hour movie should be. One person remarked, and I agree, that Cooper seemed to focus the film on the least-exciting aspects of Bernstein’s life. There was minimal inclusion of his work on Broadway, and relatively no coverage of his activism—protests against the Vietnam War, raising money for HIV/AIDS awareness, supporting the civil rights movement, and more. Instead, the movie is very centrally focused on Bernstein’s nuclear family, and how his art and his struggles affected their lives. This doesn’t automatically make the movie boring—I love slice of life films—but I think it was a little ambitious to attempt to cover this entire life and relationship. Some parts are moving, but simultaneously so much and nothing at all happens, and it was hard to stay engaged.

My other gripe with this film comes with the cinematography. The Academy loves when a movie is in black and white. It’s the exact vein of pretentious film-bait that will make your movie seem good, even if it isn’t. Because of my strong feelings about this, if a movie is going to be in black and white, they need to justify it to me, the viewer. There needs to be a reason for it, and I couldn’t figure out the reason in Maestro. I think the cinematographer thought “this is what an Oscars movie looks like,” and that’s the entire reason for it. But that’s just not good enough to me.

Award predictions: Best Makeup and Hairstyling

9. Zone of Interest

Certainly the shortest Best Picture nominee, Zone of Interest is an international film that tells the chilling story of the family of the commandant at Auschwitz, as they build their life in a new home right next to the concentration camp.

My mom can tell you that I have always had a morbid interest in the Holocaust—I even studied human rights in Germany, and visited a concentration camp while I was there. This movie, despite never taking the viewer inside of Auschwitz, never showing us the atrocities up close, still does an impressive job of creating tension and contrast. We watch the family go through clothes delivered to the house, picking out what they want to keep; it’s never said, but it’s understood that these are the clothes of people who have been killed in Auschwitz. This underlying stress, and the fact that the film trusts the viewers to fill in their own context for a lot of the horrors, is what is most impressive about this film.

However, my mom offered the most apt review of this movie—if it didn’t take place next to a concentration camp, it would be a very boring movie. Even so, it sometimes teeters on the line. The director relies on a lot of long, drawn-out shots where the camera is very still. There is very little dialogue, the film instead using sound effects and the abrupt, disconcerting score to indicate how the audience should feel. I watched the movie with a morbid curiosity, but it is difficult to watch a film focused entirely on the villains, and not see them suffer a repercussions. The film ends before the war does—we are left with a few chilling shots of Auschwitz today, and the hundreds of thousands of shoes on display, which is all that remains of the lives lost there.

Award predictions: Best International Feature Film, Best Sound

8. American Fiction

One thing I will say about American Fiction is it is unlike any of the other Best Picture nominees. This film has potentially the most digestible cinematography—it is the most understandable, similar to the direction of a “non-Oscars” movie. The story of the film also pushes an interesting politic, definitely unique to the Academy’s usual films.

The film focuses on a Black author and professor, Monk (Jeffery Wright), who is frustrated with the current expectations for his books. He sees that the only Black stories that readers are interested in play into stereotypes, which he believes mischaracterize the breadth and potential of the Black community. Fed up, Monk writes a satirical book full of all the tropes that annoy him, and to his chagrin, publishers love it. The film follows Monk grappling with internal conflict regarding the success of his own work, as well as dealing with various trials and tribulations in his own family.

Reading summaries of the film, I expected a more pessimistic message and plot, but the true focus is more so on Monk’s family rather than his publishing woes. The movie is also funny—I feel like it’s rare to see a comedy nominated for Best Picture, but American Fiction’s smart, liberal wit both increases the viewer’s enjoyment of the movie and supports the political message of the movie.

And what is the political message of the movie? I think it warns against the dangers that white people often fall victim to regarding representation and stereotype, which is that we only want to see diverse stories when they fit into our perception of what those stories should be. However, the movie also offers a nuanced perspective about cliches and stereotypes—sometimes they are ‘common’ because they are true. And we can’t think less of those stories just because they fit into a narrative that we don’t like. People contain multitudes, and many things can be true at once.

Ultimately, I did enjoy this movie, but I like the others on this list more. But if you’re looking for a movie that you can watch with your parents, or you want to start a conversation, then I recommend this one above others.

Award predictions: Best Adapted Screenplay

7. Past Lives

Now this is a slice of life movie! I watched this movie on a plane, and let me tell you that was the perfect place to watch it. There were no distractions, I had nothing but time, and I could sit with my thoughts when the movie finished.

Past Lives follows two childhood friends from South Korea as they connect and fall away from each other and reconnect again, always wondering what could have been. The movie spans their entire life, and we can see the decisions each characters make, and we ask ourselves how things would have been different if they chose each other instead.

The entire movie focuses on a Korean concept called “In Yun”, which means reincarnation. Essentially, it means that you have the relationship with people you are close with in your life now because you were somehow connected in a past life. Each life, you grow closer and closer to these people. The two main characters in Past Lives don’t end up together, but they both agree—maybe in the next life.

This is the type of movie that I love, but I understand that not everyone will love it. It is quite long, and its pacing ebbs and flows. Some people may find it boring, and that’s okay. It’s a simple movie. But if you enjoy movies that make you reflect on your own relationships, make you consider how your life got to this point, then this could be a movie you enjoy.

Award predictions: none 😦 but it’s still a great movie!

6. Killers of the Flower Moon

This film was the last of the Best Picture nominees that I saw, because it is a doozy. It’s a commitment to watch—I broke it up into about 3 or 4 segments, which helped with being able to digest the entire story. And what a chilling story it is.

Scorsese tells the horrifying true story of the Osage murders of the 1920s, and the way greed can make people do terrible things even to those they claim to love. The acting performances in this movie especially are incredible, with Lily Gladstone leading the way as the favorite for Best Actress. I think you’ll be surprised to know that she isn’t my pick to win. But it cannot be overstated how convincing all of the performances in this movie are, and how committed they all are to telling this twisted tale.

Scorsese is a very talented director. You can really tell that he put a lot of thought into how he wanted to share this truth with the world. And for such a violent premise, I was surprised at the delicacy with which the violence was depicted. I wouldn’t describe the movie as gory, or gratuitous. Rather, the way that the murders are shown feels honest, harrowing, and respectful to the history of these events.

Because of the Osage murders’ place in our American history, and the importance of finally centering Indigenous actors in Hollywood, I think everyone should see this movie. However, the reason it doesn’t rank higher is simple—the movie crop is loaded this year, and I think there are still better films in this category. To me, a Best Picture winner needs to strike an important balance between being high in quality of directing, acting, and writing, while also being understandable and digestible to the the greatest amount of people. Films that are too esoteric can’t be considered “good” to me—and I understand that might be a hot take—but they do need to have a standard of quality that elevates them beyond “watchable.” Killers of the Flower Moon is a great movie, but it doesn’t achieve that necessary balance for me.

Award predictions: Best Cinematography, Best Film Editing

5. Barbie

I know I talked a big game about the perception of Barbie as a good movie—and it is good!—but having now watched all the Best Picture nominees, even I need to admit that it doesn’t crack top 3 in my rankings.

Barbie is great at a lot of things. It carries a great humor, it creates this incredible world of Barbieland, it makes women feel seen in such a deep way. Writing a movie about a toy is no small feat, and I am really impressed with the story that Greta Gerwig chose to tell. However, when I think about the other films Greta Gerwig has directed, I can acknowledge that I found her direction more impressive in both Little Women and Lady Bird (two of my favorite films of all time). Barbie suffers the same fate as American Fiction—it’s too digestible, its politics are too understandable. For its incredible box office success and its appeal to so many viewers, it deserves its Best Picture nomination. But I don’t think it will win.

(Even though I understand that the Best Actress category is absolutely stacked, I still think Margot Robbie deserved a nomination. Barbie isn’t the movie that it is without her performance. She is truly the heart and soul of the movie, and I think she deserves to be acknowledged for that. I still have some righteous anger left in me!)

Award predictions: Best Original Song (“What was I made for?” by Billie Eilish), Best Production Design

4. Anatomy of a Fall

This movie really took me by surprise. A French film, Anatomy of a Fall follows author Sandra Voyter through a public and invasive trial that attempts to determine the cause of her husband’s death—did he fall, or was he pushed?

The premise of the film is quite unique, and I like that (SPOILERS) it leaves the audience wondering, to the very end. We never find out how her husband died. What we do understand is their marriage, how complicated a life can be between two artists, how every mistake, every offhanded comment can be used against you in a court of law. The main actress, who also stars in Zone of Interest, is incredible—she truly embodies Sandra and humanizes her for the audience in a very special way.

The script is the most impressive aspect of the film for me—utilizing both French and English, and the dynamics between the two languages is an important part of the plot. The movie is very dialogue-driven, and I think the writing is very natural in a way that drives that story forward without providing too much obvious exposition.

If you like mystery, if you like ambiguous endings, if you like complicated characters, then you will certainly like Anatomy of a Fall. Unfortunately, the reason it isn’t my Best Picture winner is that it’s not big enough. Which is fine, not all movies need to cover a grand scale. But when the movies this year tackle the stories that they have, it’s understandable that the award for Best Picture would go to a movie with a more epic proportion.

Award predictions: Best Original Screenplay, Best On-Screen Dog (not a real category, but should be)

3. The Holdovers

Another beautiful slice of life movie, The Holdovers focuses on the teachers and staff at an East coast boarding school who are responsible for watching the students that stay at school over winter break—the “holdovers.” This is another very character-driven movie, in the best way; our three main characters, teacher Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti), student Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa), and cafeteria lady Mary Lamb (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), learn more about themselves and each other, and find family in one another for the holiday season.

When the movie starts, it seems right in line with the great high school movies of decades past—specifically invoking Dead Poets Society vibes (another one of my favorite movies). But pretty soon you realize that Paul Giamatti is not Robin Williams, and these students are a lot more difficult than the eager poets. Nevertheless, the movie tugs on your heartstrings in such a delightful way, leaving you feeling both sad and hopeful—much like our main characters.

This is a good movie, for sure. It makes you feel, the acting is excellent, the directing is recognizable and nostalgic. The reason it can’t win Best Picture is it’s too heartwarming. In a year like this, the Academy is going to want a movie that will leave you feeling complicated. The movies that stick with you often do leave you with more complex emotions—you simply have more to chew on. The Holdovers is wonderful, but its message is simple—too simple for the Academy to give it Best Picture.

Award predictions: Best Actor in a Leading Role, Best Actress in a Supporting Role

2. Poor Things

I’ll warn you now, this movie is weird. Probably weirder than you’re used to. And that’s why it isn’t my Best Picture winner—I don’t think it appeals to a wide enough audience. That being said, if you can suspend your disbelief and get past the weird—this movie is awesome.

Emma Stone gives an unbelievable performance as Bella, a corpse reanimated, a child’s brain inside an adult woman’s body learning about life and the world. You may start watching this movie and think, “hey, this is in black and white, why didn’t you hate it?” And that’s a fair point—but the film explains the reason for the being half in black and white, and half in color. Once Bella starts to gain experiences in the world, and learn more about her own existence, the film adds color. The score simultaneously gets more complex as the movie progresses, signifying Bella’s brain developing to understand more and more.

It’s a fantastical movie, set somewhere between the past and the future, and its physical set design does wonders to really bring the setting to life. The cinematography is wacky, often using wide angle and fish-eye lenses to really make the audience feel like they’re on the outside looking in. Every aspect of the movie is deliberate, and I think that’s incredibly special.

Plus, the acting performances are really stellar. Mark Ruffalo probably won’t win Best Supporting Actor, but he would deserve it for his depiction of the malicious yet pathetic Duncan Wedderburn. Emma Stone is my dark horse pick to win Best Actress—the way she convincingly plays the complicated role that is Bella Baxter would be enough for her to be the outright favorite in any other year.

If you can manage to go into the movie with an open mind, and just let it wash over you—I promise, you’ll enjoy it too.

Award predictions: Best Actress in a Leading Role, Best Costume Design, Best Original Score

1. Oppenheimer

By now, I’m sure you’ve figured out my pick for Best Picture—the other half of Barbenheimer, Christopher Nolan’s latest masterpiece. Not only is Oppenheimer the most gripping and entertaining 3 hour movie I’ve ever seen, I think it also achieves that fragile and necessary balance that a Best Picture winner requires—it’s entertaining and understandable to a wider audience, but it’s also a creative expression in its direction and production, and the truly exceptional acting performances carry it to greatness.

I really considered selecting the Oppenheimer nominees to sweep 3 of the 4 acting categories—I still think it’s possible. Cillian Murphy is definitely the favorite for Best Actor, which he deserves, and Emily Blunt does an outstanding job in her supporting role. But the one that I simply will not compromise on is Robert Downey Jr to win Best Supporting Actor. This is easily his best performance in years—he came back on the scene and reminded everyone of his talent. There are some great actors nominated with him as well, but for his transformation to play the serious Admiral Strauss he deserves to take the Oscar.

I think Nolan will also take it home for Best Directing. Like I said, this is the most entertaining 3 hour movie I’ve ever seen. The movie spans a lot of time but it’s necessary. And Nolan does a great job of building tension throughout the movie, and even leaving you with some lingering tension when the film ends.

I have made a lot of claims about what the Best Picture winner needs to be: the politics need to be nuanced, the scale needs to be large, the movie needs to be appealing to many, the production must be artistic, the message needs to linger. I think Oppenheimer out of all the nominees has these qualities. The politics are nuanced—we are left wondering the same thing as the actors in the film: was making the atomic bomb the right thing to do? Did we stop a brutal war, or bring an even greater evil into our world? We are left thinking about how our reality was forever changed, and how it may change even still. The scale is certainly large—the movie spans decades, different eras of our American history, with a massive ensemble cast. The production feels like an Academy Award-winning movie, with many artful shots, unique interludes, and deliberate choices in how to tell the story through film.

Award predictions: Best Picture, Best Actor in a Supporting Role, Best Directing

If you’re still with me—thanks. This is a long one, I know. But I want to finish by saying that the Oscars are for a very specific audience, one that is likely a very small subject of the people that watch movies. Just because this small set of film critics decide that this is the “best” movie of the year, doesn’t mean that’s true. Art is subjective! You’re allowed to like Barbie more than Oppenheimer, you’re allowed to think Poor Things is too weird, you’re allowed to think American Fiction is the smartest movie of the decade. All of these things can be true. And when something gets popular, we have to think about why. Saying that you like Little Women better than Barbie is fine, but you can’t deny that Barbie has some sort of quality that makes it appealing to a large amount of people. It’s rare for that many people to be wrong.

And for the pretentious readers, I urge you to remember that just because something is complicated doesn’t mean it’s good. Simple doesn’t mean bad. Things don’t need to be incomprehensible—sometimes, being understood by many is a good thing.

when you’re in the good days

In every phase of my life, I have felt overwhelmed and stressed. And then, once I reached the next phase of my life, I look back and think “what was I so worked up about?” It always feels like things are the worst they could possibly be, until they’re not.

When I was in middle school, I thought I had a lot going on. And then I got into high school, and I said “this is real stress.” Once I went to college, I thought “high school was a breeze compared to this.” Then I entered graduate school, where things were harder and higher stakes than they’d ever been. And when I finally entered the workforce to start my career, I realized that this whole ‘life’ thing is so much harder than anyone had warned me.

And I guess it’s hard to look back on these different phases of my life, and think that I had it so good, but to know that in that moment I didn’t think it was that good at all.

When snapchat memories from college pop up, so many of them have captions like “really stressful week” or “i’m freaking out” or “soooo busy”. But then I also see memories of laughing with my friends in our dorm rooms, walking to the campus cafeteria, going to cool campus events. Those are the parts I remember. But I didn’t appreciate how special those times were.

“how are so many good things happening this week and i’m still so stressed” – 2/10/20

12/4/19

“if you’re easily frightened don’t look at my calendar” – 2/3/20

I don’t want to invalidate past-me’s experience: college was hard. It was very stressful. I took heavy class loads each semester, I was involved in a lot of different clubs and organizations, I was doing research, I had a job—there was a lot going on! There were definitely times that I got burnt out, or overwhelmed. But also, I was doing things that I loved. I loved studying English and writing long critical analysis papers, I loved researching linguistics patterns in children, I loved writing articles for VIM Magazine, I loved running the social media for the Citizen Scholars program. Did all of these things stress me out? Sure. But I was able to choose what to spend my time on, and these are what I chose. There was a freedom in that.

presenting linguistics research at the university-wide research forum

spotting one of my projects at the East Lansing Public Library while volunteering

successfully completing a big part of my grade in my women’s studies class

Working in higher education means spending time on a college campus, in a college town, every day. I love my field, I do. College is such a formative time for so many people, and I am so grateful that I get to help students navigate the various systems and experiences. But it is also hard. Sometimes when I’m walking on campus and I see students on their way to class, chatting with friends, I just want to shake them and say “Appreciate this time!!! You will never get to live like this again!!!” College isn’t the best because of some intrinsic, unknowable quality—it’s the best because you live right next door to all of your friends, in a walkable community, with lots of support and opportunity built into your experience. You get to try out freedom, knowing it’s okay if you fail. Life can be amazing after college, but those things aren’t guaranteed. You might end up seeing your best friends once or twice a year, instead of every night in your dorm room. You might go from walking 3 miles every day just to get to your classes, to driving everywhere. You won’t have an advisor or professor to advocate for you and connect you to opportunities—you have to find them yourself.

waking up with roomie/bestie (sophie) – spring 2019

doing homework at Biggby with the bf (lockie) – fall 2019

lunch at Snyder-Phillips with the non-roomie/bestie (haley) – spring 2018

I guess what I’m saying is that I’m trying to reflect on gratitude. I’m trying to be better about appreciating the good things about my life right now, so I don’t look back on this time in 5 years and feel like I took it for granted. There are hard things, sure—I live really far away from my family, I have a math job where I stare at spreadsheets all day, I haven’t made a ton of new friends in Colorado. I’m responsible for paying my rent, putting gas in my car, cooking all my meals, buying my groceries, doing my dishes. But there are really good things, too. I get to live in a place full of beauty and adventure. I make my own money and I have the freedom to spend it how I want. I get to hang out with my best friend and partner every day, because we live together. I have friends from college that live here too, and we’ve been able to reconnect in such lovely ways.

old friends in a new place pt 1

old friends in a new place pt 2

the annual best friends reunion

In the series finale of The Office, Andy (the best character) remarks “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good ole days before you’ve actually left them.” And when I look back on my life, a lot of it is full of good ole days. I don’t think we have a way to know when we’re in the midst of the good times, so I think the only answer is just to start treating every day like the good ole days. Assume that whatever phase of life you’re in, you’ll one day look back on fondly, and try to appreciate it right now. Life’s too short to be always looking back.

– Abby, in the moment

the archie difference

In August of 2022, the Lawrence Humane Society participated in the nation-wide event called “Clear the Shelter Day.” In an effort to decrease financial barriers to pet ownership, animal shelters around the country waive their adoption fees for one day, in the hopes that most, if not all of their animals will be adopted.

Lockie and I had been thinking about a cat for a while. Now that we had our own apartment, we were all settled in, and we were through with all of our summer travels, we were finally ready.

I have always been a cat person. My parents had dogs before I was born, but my entire life, I’ve only known cats. Granted, I have never taken a larger responsibility when it came to caring for these various cats—even my own cat, Cookie Dough, probably likes my dad the most out of everyone. I was excited about the idea of finally having a cat of my own that I could really bond with and care for—a cat that would be with me throughout the big moments of my life.

We looked at cats available to adopt from the Humane Society all the time, so we had some in mind that we were hoping to meet on Clear the Shelter Day. But when we got there, we found that the event wasn’t what we expected. For starters, there was an incredibly long line. We waited over an hour in the hot Kansas summer sun. When we finally were up near the front of the line, we encountered an odd sign. The sign explained that you could only meet the animals that they had out on display—not any animals they had in the back—and you could only meet one animal at a time. If you and that animal didn’t connect, you’d have to go to the back of the line.

All of a sudden, this was a lot more high-stakes. We did not want to go to the back of the line. If we could only choose one animal to meet, we had to choose the right one. How can you be sure you’ll have a connection? We couldn’t. It was a true leap of faith.

Once we got in the room with all the cats, the decision became even harder. We walked around a couple of times, pointing at different cats in their cages. We didn’t see any of the cats we had found online. The Humane Society had volunteers available to help us if we needed it, and we needed all the help we could get, so we listened when they had things to add about the available cats.

The first thing we heard about Archie was how pretty he is. The volunteer at the Humane Society absolutely loved the markings near his face. And we agreed—they are quite distinct. As we walked around the various cages, we kept coming back to Archie, so we decided that we would use our one meeting opportunity on him.

The problem with trying to determine pet-and-owner chemistry on a day like Clear the Shelter day is that the cats are so overstimulated. It’s loud, there are lots of people around, and it’s probably been a very disruptive few days for them already. So our meeting with Archie wasn’t something out of a storybook. He didn’t really want to sniff our hands or say hello—he mostly just stayed at the back of the crate and stared at us. The volunteer shared that he was probably feeling pretty anxious, and we thought “same.” He was just like us. We did another lap, but that commonality stuck with us. We decided to take a risk on our anxious boy Archie.

Whenever you adopt a pet, they give you lots of information on what to expect in the coming days. Cats especially can be quite shy, and it typically takes them a while to adjust to their surroundings. They told us to keep him confined to one room, make sure he has food and water, and don’t feel offended if we don’t see him for a few days. He’ll warm up to us, it just may take a bit. Especially with how anxious he was at the shelter, I certainly wasn’t expecting Archie to be very outgoing with us at first.

Oh, how wrong we were.

Once we got back to our apartment, we took him to our bedroom. He did hide under the bed at first, but we stayed in there—lying on the floor, talking to him, offering treats. It took about two hours before he was sitting in Lockie’s lap and exploring our bookshelves. The next morning, we woke up with him sleeping between us in bed. Gone was the scared little cat at the shelter, replaced with a loving and energetic boy who was just as excited as us to be a part of our little family.

As we all got more acquainted with one another, I was surprised by how cuddly and clingy he was. Archie loves sitting as close to my face as possible. He always wants to be in the room we’re in. He purrs constantly. It’s so strange, to feel his unconditional love. Sometimes he gets too excited and tries to bite my nose, or his little paw presses into my side so much it hurts, or I scratch his belly for too long and he scratches back. But it’s love, it’s all love.

helping me work from home

writing an essay with lockie

sitting between us on the couch

sunday snuggles

Even though Archie is a lover, he’s also a fighter. He has so much energy—every time we get home from work, he is yowling, demanding play time. He will carry his toys around, his meows muffled by whatever is in his mouth, until we relent. He definitely uses his voice often, and he knows how to push our limits to get us to pay attention to him. If we aren’t entertaining him, he’ll hop up on the kitchen counter and stare at us until we get up to knock him off.

playing by himself in a leftover box

in his favorite tunnel/wormhole

reaching new heights

My second-favorite thing about Archie is how he always wants to know what we’re up to, be a part of what’s going on. He’s so curious that way. He loves to be involved, even if he has no idea what’s going on. Sometimes it’s annoying, I’ll admit—but it’s more hilarious than anything. I love watching him climb into my dice box while playing dungeons and dragons, or letting him smell all the things I bought at Target. He has no interest in going outside, but he’s so fascinated by everything going on around him. In that way, his enthusiastic participation in our lives is endearing and inspiring.

no more board games, play with me

being very helpful with my job

“what’s going on here?”

watching the world cup with us

making his presence known during DnD

checking out my dad’s birthday present

helping lockie pack (don’t leave!)

sleeping on my character sheet

His curiosity is my second-favorite thing, but my absolute, most favorite thing about Archie? How he makes everyone else love him too. I don’t think he’s met someone that he hasn’t liked. All of our friends or family that come visit, Archie is quick to befriend. Everyone I have ever asked to cat-sit for us has said that he is so loving, so happy to see them. One of my old coworkers who checked in on him during a long weekend said “He’s a special kitty.” I feel proud, when people say that, even though it doesn’t really have anything to do with me. Archie was already 3 years old when we got him—he had a lot of life and a lot of growing already done before he came to us. I wouldn’t say we trained him or anything—quite the opposite, sometimes it feels like he runs the show. Maybe it’s just encouraging that other people see what I see too; that he’s a unique personality, a special boy. It’s not all in my head, I’m not just biased—he really is one of a kind.

snuggles with my mom

cuddles with paige

a photo from one of many cat-sitters

If you can’t tell from my rambling, I love this little guy so much. He’s more than just a cat—he really is like my son. We argue back and forth, he misbehaves, we forgive each other, we always come back together. With a love this strong also comes worry. I am terrified that something will happen to Archie, that I’ll come home from work and won’t hear him yowling in greeting, and I’ll know. Sometimes I start thinking about it on the way home from work and I get myself so worked up that I’m running up the stairs to our apartment, only to let out a massive sigh of relief when I see him in front of the door, waiting for me. It’s like, every time we leave, he thinks we’re never coming back, and every time I leave, I’m afraid he won’t be there waiting for us to return. I know this thinking isn’t productive, but I can’t help it—he’s an anxious cat, and we’re anxious cat-owners. We’re alike in this way, it’s the whole reason we chose him to begin with. Our hearts hold too much love; sometimes it feels like fear.

archie watching the leaves change

enjoying morning tea together

distracting me with his cuteness

post-commencement nap together

my boys

archie watching spring melt the frost

Our lives are different now that we have Archie. He has changed our lives for the better. Do I wake up in the middle of the night due to him walking across my chest? Yes, sometimes. Do we get to start every day with purrs and pets, before we get up to face the world? Pretty much, yeah. Do Lockie and I compare scratches, or argue about whose turn it is to play with him? Totally. Is our relationship stronger because we love seeing how we each care for Archie? Absolutely.

In my journey to update this blog on how my life has changed since I abandoned it in 2018, I would be remiss to not wax poetically about Archie. He’s the best chance Lockie and I have ever taken. I don’t even know if I’ve done him justice with these words. Once you meet him, you’ll see what I mean.

– Archie’s mom, Abby

love letter to lawrence, kansas

When Lockie and I told people that we were moving from Michigan to Kansas, the look that appeared on their faces can only be described as pity. They would say “Oh” in that tone that conveys that great Midwestern trait of “if I don’t have anything nice to say, I won’t say anything at all.” And at first, I kind of understood where they were coming from. Michigan is a wonderful state—lakes, beer, natural beauty, sports—and the impression of Kansas is flat and unexciting: a flyover state.

We didn’t decide to move to Kansas because it was our lifelong dream to live there. Timing-wise, I finished my masters program the same time Lockie was applying for grad school, and wherever we landed, we wanted to land there together. So I looked for jobs at the schools Lockie was applying to, and together we decided on Lawrence. I actually had the final round interview for my job the day before Lockie committed to the University of Kansas. It seemed like destiny—all signs pointed to the Sunflower State.

Nevertheless, I didn’t know what to expect. I was nervous to leave behind everything I had ever known, the comforts of home and the closeness of family. Like I said, Michigan is a wonderful state. I didn’t want to leave because I was unhappy. It was more so an innate need to experience life elsewhere. The idea of staying in one place my entire life sounded terrifying, frankly. And if I was ever going to try leaving the nest, it should be now—when I’m young, not tied down, no kids or house to worry about. So Lockie and I left our old lives behind to go start a new one, together.

What they don’t tell you about Kansas is that it’s awesome. It was the perfect place for us to land, and I’ll tell you why.

First of all, Lawrence is a small town. There is one main street, Massachusetts Street, that takes you through historic downtown Lawrence. But it’s so lively, and welcoming. Lawrence was maybe the first place I’ve ever been that felt like a movie set—people saying hello to each other on the street, everyone going to the same diner in town for Sunday breakfast, cool and quirky local events happening all the time. It felt a little bit like I was living in Stars Hollow. I mean, the weekend we moved, the Busker Festival was happening in town—“a circus on the streets” they call it. That’s like something out of a movie.

Placard on a building corner downtown

Massachusetts Street, all lit up for the holidays

Pop-up holiday bar downtown

Lawrence is situated in a unique part of Kansas. When I asked my new coworkers about the danger of tornadoes in the area (a tornado hit Wichita when we came to look at apartments, and we had a tornado watch the weekend we moved), they were quick to assuage my concerns. About 45 minutes from Kansas City, it rests in what is locally known as the Tonganoxie Split. The hills (yes, hills, in Kansas) divert hazardous weather away from Lawrence, Kansas City, and the small town called Tonganoxie. This phenomenon is, of course, just a local myth—national weather services will tell you that it doesn’t hold water. But I found it to be true while we lived there. We had our fair share of summer storms and wacky weather, but no tornadoes. I loved the wacky weather though! We could get some intense blizzards in Michigan, but thunderstorms rolling across the flat plains of Western Kansas are a different beast. I was very thankful for our awesome apartment complex, which never leaked once.

spooky sky before some summer storms rolled in

thick fog for a work event one september morning

One of my favorite things about Lawrence is all of the unique shops, and all of the shops with cats. Both bookstores, the record store, the stationary store—all had friendly cats that helped greet customers, or just slept on the merchandise. These cats became larger than life almost, because of how beloved they are in the Lawrence community. Dashiell, the bookstore cat at The Raven, has written a book, and Wonder Fair (my favorite store in the whole world) sells t-shirts, calendars, pins, art, and more of their cat Dave. As someone who loves cats, this was understandably very exciting. Sometimes I would go downtown and take a ‘cat tour’ to visit all of the shops with cats—and often I’d end up buying something, too. I probably spent a lot more money on things I didn’t need when we lived in Lawrence, but going downtown was always something fun to do. The shops were great, the people were friendly, and when I was on Mass Street, I felt like I was a part of the community.

Dashiell, the Raven bookstore

Dinah, the Dusty Bookshelf

one of 3 cats at Love Garden Sound

The infamous Dave, from Wonder Fair

The best thing about Lawrence, by far, is the food. The restaurant scene is incredible, which again is not something people think of when they think of Kansas! But they should! I share this because this is a safe space and I trust you all—I gained about 30 pounds during the year we lived in Lawrence. And truthfully I have no regrets. Every single meal was delicious—so many different cuisines, new restaurants opening all the time. Even at our favorite joints, I could get something different from the menu every day and be happy with my meal. We were spoiled rotten.

Ham and pineapple sandwich from Wheatfields

croissants from 1900 Barker

Pork chop from Merchants

Shoyu Ramen from Ramen Bowls

Happy Hour apps at 715

Basil Leaf italian

Chicken katsu from Moriki Sushi

latte from Cellar Door Cafe

Tacos from Molcajetes

I dream about our favorite spot, The Ladybird Diner. We would go there for breakfast every other weekend, and if we got there later than 9 o’clock, we just knew that we would be waiting for 30+ minutes. But it was worth it, every time. The staff were so friendly—I don’t know if they recognized us as regulars, but I certainly remembered them. Lockie would always get a chocolate shake, and they would bring the milkshake mixer that they used, so it was like I got a shake too. I don’t even like chocolate ice cream, but their chocolate shake is made with literal magic. Going to Ladybird was a small little tradition, but it was one we made together, and I miss it.

The year that we lived in Lawrence contained a lot of firsts. For example:

1. first flat tire
2. first cat
3. first time getting Covid
4. first time making friends as an adult
5. first business trip
6. first flight with luggage full of Christmas presents
7. first birthday party planned for myself
8. first speeding ticket
9. first after-work happy hour
10. first time quitting a job
11. first time planning our next step on our own

first day on the job

chilling at home with Arch

ramen with Paige

spring break with my momma

breakfast with Haley and Evan

pre-football game brunch with Lockie’s parents

One of these days I’ll write Fort Collins a love letter too—there’s a lot to like about living here. But I miss Kansas, I think because it was so much better than we thought it would be. I’m grateful for all the friends and family that came to visit us in that year. You got to see what a magical place it was, too. I’m grateful for Archie—he’s our little piece of Lawrence that comes with us.

Thank you, Lawrence. For being what we needed. Kansas might be a flyover state, but every time I fly above your little town, I’ll wish I was down there in it.

– From Abby, with love

your twenties are a b*tch

Hello? *slowly opens door* Anybody still live here?

It’s me again. Abby. I haven’t posted on this blog in… 6 years? Sorry about that—for gathering you all here and then totally ditching you. That was my bad.

But… here I am! Surprise! Not dead, not sleeping, just busy. A lot has changed in the last 6 years. When I started this blog, I was still in high school. Now, I’ve finished college—undergrad and graduate school. I went from living in Michigan my whole life to now living in my third different state in 3 years. My friendships look different, my values look different, and my image of myself looks different. The two most exciting updates are 1) I have a partner, we’ve been together almost 5 years now, woohoo, and 2) we have a cat together named Archie! They are my boys and I love them both very much, and I am incredibly proud of our little family.

Alright, you’re basically caught up on the last 6 years. Except you aren’t, not at all. My entire life looks different now—it’s been so trippy to look back on these old posts and try to remember the girl who was typing them up on her chromebook, sitting at the breakfast bar after school. Now I’m on the couch in an apartment that I share with my partner, watching the sun set over the Rocky Mountains, Archie sleeping on the cushion next to me. How did we get from point A to point B?

One thing that hasn’t changed is my desire to write. I’m still thinking lots of thoughts, trying to figure out how to articulate them. I will say that sadly, I haven’t been writing nearly as much as I’d like to be—that is, basically at all. So, I’d like to resurrect this little blog of mine, 6 years later. If you all are still willing to give some of your attention to my rambling. I expect these blog posts to be me either yapping about whatever is on my mind that week, or filling you in on what you missed while I was on hiatus. Trust me, I have lots of life updates to share!

Mostly, I want to be able to use this blog as a more robust catalogue of my life. Social media is so fleeting, and frankly I’ve gotten sick of what endless scrolling has done to my attention span. I’m hoping that by taking a little bit more time to genuinely reflect, instead of just posting a curated collection of 5-10 photos with a clever caption, I can start to spend my time and attention a little more deliberately.

Another thing that hasn’t changed in the last 6 years—I’m still trying to figure it out. That’s the theme of my whole decade—trying to figure out this nonsense called life. My mom recently told me that your 20s are a bitch. I guess, when you’re a teenager you’re all excited to be a grown-up. And then when you get into your 20s, you realize that being an adult comes with responsibilities, and growing up is going to be more of a challenge than expected. And no one warns you! You’re just so excited to be able to do what you want, that no one wants to crush your dreams and tell you, “actually, it’s all going to be a lot harder than you think it is.”

But my prefrontal cortex is almost fully developed (3 more months!) and I’m sure it’ll all get a lot easier after that. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to tell you all about it. Welcome back to the ride, everybody. Thanks for your patience.

—Abby in Colorful Colorado

commencement: a beginning or start

It’s been a while since I graduated college. I finished my undergrad degree in 2020, which made my graduation experience different; a little more stifled than I expected. There was a livestream of remarks from the university president, some speaker, and then there was a ticker of names—like movie credits. The whole thing lasted 15 minutes. I watched from my parents’ living room. 

My Masters ceremony was more in line with what I assumed a college graduation would be like. And it absolutely felt special, because grad school was hard. It really felt like I accomplished something, and commencement was a celebration of all my hard work. 

The fact that we call graduation “commencement” is interesting. It signifies the end of our college career, but to commence means to begin. Ceremonially, commencement is the beginning of a new chapter. It may seem like an ending, but it’s the start of the rest of your life. The pomp, the circumstance—some may find it silly, but all the ceremony is an effort to instill meaning. It should feel out of the ordinary, because finishing a college degree is not an ordinary occurrence. 

Anyways, the reason I’ve been reflecting on this recently is because part of my job is to plan commencement for the College of Liberal Arts at CSU. I communicate with the graduates, I collect student speaker nominations, I coordinate timelines for speech writing, I put together the script for the ceremony, I train marshals and announcers, I organize volunteers, I corral the platform party, I order regalia, I set up before the ceremony and I clean up after. It’s a lot of logistics. It’s a lot of emails. It’s a lot of preparation. 

I’m a lynchpin essentially; I’m the tether that connects students to information, university event planners with college leadership. My job requires organization and focus, attention to detail and troubleshooting. If all is going well, graduating students shouldn’t know who I am. The only way we interact is if they have a question or a problem. Some questions have simple answers, but some don’t—here’s a list of some inquiries I’ve had over the last two years: 

• A mother would not hang up the phone with me until I could tell her what color her graduating daughter’s tassel would be—she was painting a graduation portrait of her daughter as a gift. Answer: white.
• A man wanted to walk in our fall commencement, even though he was an online student who graduated in the summer. His daughter would be participating in the same ceremony. His wife always wanted him to finish his degree; after she passed away, he finally went back and did it. Could he participate in the ceremony? Answer: Of course.
• I got a voicemail from a kind-sounding southern man. His niece was graduating, but she wasn’t able to get enough tickets for him and another family member to attend. The man explained the he is a blind veteran, and he wants to be able to experience his niece’s graduation, even if he won’t be able to see it. Answer: I sent his niece some more tickets.
• One of our departments nominated a graduating student to carry the departmental banner into the ceremony. The student uses a power wheelchair, and wasn’t sure if they could carry the banner and still operate their chair. Answer: We had the student come to the office and do a test run (they were able to carry the banner no problem).
• A graduating student called me the week of graduation, frantic because he had been so busy with finishing up his semester he had no idea what he needed to do for graduation. Could he submit a photo for the pre-ceremony slideshow? How does he know if he earned latin distinction? Was it too late to get tickets for his children and friends to attend? We talked for 10 minutes, while I waited to get my blood drawn at the doctor’s office. Answers: Yes, the registrar will know, and he doesn’t need tickets so he can bring as many guests as he wants.

There are many questions I get where I think to myself “you could have googled this”, or “this really isn’t that important”, but who am I to say that? Graduation is terrifying. Students’ common sense goes out the window. It’s a miracle they’re able to even find my email. So who am I to tell them that it doesn’t matter if their name is in the program, or if they have a name card waiting for them, or if their tassel is the wrong color? This feels like the most important day of their life, and they want everything to be perfect. It’s my job to make that happen.

A CLA grad celebrates with his family/friends. Photo credit to Colorado State University.

I’ve started to realize that getting to plan commencement is a privilege. It’s an honor to be trusted with executing this experience. Especially for liberal arts students—for so many, their path through college was not simple. Many are first-generation students, many changed their major, many faced pressure or skepticism from their families when they decided to pursue something like Philosophy, or English, or Music. Many aren’t sure what the future holds, but commencement is an opportunity to just be proud of how far they’ve come.

Almost all of our banner carriers for the Fall ceremony. Photo credit to Colorado State University.

The hardest part about my job is the day of commencement. Everything is set up, guests are seated, and I signal to start the processional—the beginning of the ceremony. As soon as that happens, I give up control. The rest of the ceremony is in the hands of our marshals and our platform party. I have to trust that I’ve prepared them for their role, and that if any hiccups arise they’ll be able to problem solve on the fly. I just get to watch. It’s terrifying! It’s like setting up a rube goldberg machine. All that effort and then when it’s happening you can’t intervene, you can’t have a do-over, you just have to believe that your preparation has set you up for success.

Me and some of my colleagues/volunteers watching commencement from the back of the room.

My first commencement, we had hiccups. Our commencement speaker was editing her speech up until the night before the ceremony, and it ended up being 25 minutes long. But there was nothing I could do in the moment, I just had to let it happen. My second commencement, in the spring, we were over capacity and went over our allotted time. That’s what happens when there are 600+ students that need to cross the stage, and all of them brought their friends and family. There was nothing I could do to change it or make it better, we simply had to roll with it.

I always tell myself that as long as the students cross the stage and get their diploma covers, it’s a success. All the other bumps in the road don’t matter. And of course that’s true, but it’s not ALL that matters. I want things to be smooth, I want our volunteers to feel prepared and not overwhelmed, I want our platform party to feel clued-in and not clueless, I want our students to feel celebrated and not stressed. It doesn’t have to all go perfectly, but that’s the bullseye we’re always aiming for.

I’m happy to report that for this fall? I think we hit that bullseye. Everything went perfectly. We started right on time and we actually finished early. Our student speaker and commencement speaker both knocked it out of the park with concise and heartfelt speeches. Our announcers kept our diploma distribution at a brisk pace, our 6 new department chairs didn’t miss a beat in handing out diploma covers. Our marshals knew every queue and hit every mark. The audio/video production was the best it’s ever been. My volunteers did a wonderful job in handling their responsibilities—there weren’t any fires I needed to put out.

Me and my awesome faculty marshals!

It was incredible. Everyone kept saying what a nice job I did, but truthfully? I don’t know if I did much of anything. So many of the people involved, our staff and faculty that assist with the ceremony, they LOVE this. Many have been volunteering for years. Sure, I’m the conductor behind the orchestra, but the musicians already know the melody. We’re such a beautifully well-oiled machine; I was humbled to watch and be a part of it. It’s a magical feeling, to be proud of what you’ve accomplished.

In the midst of the joy and relief, there is also sadness for all of us involved. The university is changing the way they do commencement, starting in spring of 2025. This fall was the final commencement as we know it—going forward it will be a new beast entirely. I’m sure the experience will still be celebratory for students, but for all of us behind the scenes, it’s hard. We have to say goodbye to the format we’ve spent so long perfecting. We have to take the same parts and build a new machine, write a new song. We have to hope that we can still deliver the magic, and make it feel seamless even though it surely won’t be (at least at first).

A CLA graduate celebrates while crossing the stage. Photo credit to Colorado State University.

I guess, much like it is for the graduates, this fall’s commencement was both an ending and a beginning. It was a celebration of what we’ve accomplished, and also signifies the start of something new. We too don’t know what the future holds. But before I get to the anxiety, I’m trying to hold onto the moment of pride. Remember all of the experience, knowledge, hard work that went into an absolutely flawless 2 hours on a Saturday in December. We did that together, and we can do it again. I have to believe that.

the right way to live

I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandma. My mom’s mom, she lived to be 90 years old. She passed away 3 years and 3 days ago.

And I’m very grateful for the fact that I was able to know her in my adult life—I feel like I was given the chance to see her and know her as a person before she passed. But time is a tricky thing, and aging has an odd effect on our relationships. At her funeral, I realized that I had known her for my entire 21 years of life, but she hadn’t even known me for a third of hers. She lived almost 70 years of life before I took my first breath. She went to school, got married, had a job, had children, lost her husband, remarried, retired, traveled—all of these experiences happened before she was my grandma.

What’s wild to me is how 90 years is a long time. And when you live that long, the people who are left to remember you aren’t likely to have known you all those years. How do you preserve yourself, at various stages in your life? How do you control your memory, your legacy? Does it matter at all?

I’m not friends with anyone that I was friends with before the age of 6. The only people who will know what I was like back then are my family members. And when they’re gone, only me. And when I’m gone… that part of my life will be gone too, because no one will have been left who lived it with me. I’m an only child, I don’t have any siblings who will have known me my entire life, even when we’re both old and gray. If I live the longest out of my friends, there will be no one left who remembers our inside jokes, the adventures we shared. Why does that feel so scary? Maybe because it feels so vibrant to me, and I can’t imagine having no one to reminisce with. So much of life is shared experiences.

So, back to my grandma. At her funeral I learned a lot of things about her that I had never known, things that I wish I had known so I could have talked to her about them. For example, after she retired, she and her husband lived in a van and traveled around the US. She was doing van life before it was cool! This was in like the 90s! I wish I could have asked her what she learned, what she saw. Her second husband, my Grandpa Bob, passed away in 2006, so it’s not like I can ask him. Those experiences died when they did.

Does anyone know that Taylor Swift song, marjorie? She wrote it about her grandmother who died when she was 13 years old. In it, she sings “I should have asked you questions / I should have asked you how to be / asked you to write it down for me”. That’s how I feel. Because the more I think about my grandma, the more I think she had figured out how to live the perfect life, and how to leave the perfect legacy.

She wasn’t famous or anything—she wasn’t world-renowned, she’s only a household name in our home. But after she passed, no one could say a bad thing about her. And I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but you couldn’t even if you tried. I never heard her raise her voice, I never saw her get angry, I never even heard her say anything negative about anyone else. She was only ever kind, and empathetic. But I knew she was strong, too. She had experienced a lot of loss in her 90 years of life, but she didn’t let it turn her bitter. She left love in her wake everywhere she went.

And I don’t know how she did it. I get angry, I get upset all the time. I gossip with my friends, I make judgements about strangers. It’s a very human thing to do. But she’s shown me that there must be a way to choose love and empathy, even when I don’t feel those things. I just never asked her how, and now I can’t. She was a very religious woman, so one could maybe say that she found her grace in God. But I’ve also known plenty of Christians who are not nearly as loving and kind as she was. I think she had something special going on.

So, I’m trying to figure it out myself. But it’s hard. She made it look so easy, and it’s anything but. I guess one thing that helps is gratitude. I’m so grateful to have a family that loves me. I’m so grateful to have friends that continue to prioritize our shared time together, despite distance and time zones. I’m so grateful to have a partner who laughs with me, who adventures with me, who has built a shared life with me. I’m grateful to live in a beautiful place, to have a roof over my head. When I think about all of these wonderful things, it feels incredibly obvious. Love is the only thing that matters.

In her last few years of life, my grandma seemed to cry a lot. Maybe she was always that way, and I didn’t notice until I got old enough. But they were never tears of sadness—she would cry when my uncle would say grace at Thanksgiving. She would cry when the bell choir played at Christmas mass. She cried at little things, the things that made her life rich. It’s not just about the lasting impression of love and joy that my grandma left on everyone that knew her—she lived her life with such joy, even for the littlest things. I want to be able to experience my own life that deeply.

So, I guess I share this with you all for a couple of reasons. 1, I wanted to talk about my grandma and how amazing she was, because I miss her everyday. 2, I wanted to share with you all the correct way to live; now you know, so… you’re welcome. 3, I guess I’m wondering if anyone has any advice? If my grandma reminds you of anyone in your life, maybe ask them how they do it, and share what they say with the class. This whole life thing is a group project.

I used to hope that when I died, my name would be known around the world. I wanted to be a household name. I wanted to leave a legacy, change the world somehow for the better. Now, I just hope that when I die, the people that I loved know how much I loved them. And that their memories of me make them smile.

-Abby, granddaughter of Marge

Things We Used to Share

1/08

I’ve been thinking about how much of me is made of other people.

There are phrases I’ve acquired, jokes I tell like they’re my own, even songs I sing because of friends that I’ve lost over the years.  This (blog? poem? word vomit?) is for those people.  You may not know it, but you’ll always be with me.  

“Okay I Was Gone for a Minute…

…But I’m Back Now.  Sit the F*** Back Down.”

These are the opening lyrics of the title song from rapper Logic’s new album Everybody.  In this instance, I thought they seemed fitting.