Meet Sarah

This is Sarah (on the right):

Sarah is my best friend. For a while now, I have been wanting to write her a letter. While I am normally one to write and deliver letters of gratitude in private, I think she deserves a more public thank you.

We have been friends for about three years now. When I initially encountered her on my floor in the dorms, my thought was always, "Oh my god, why does this tall girl walk so slow?" It really wasn't much of a concern for me, and I didn't avoid her for slowing my return to my room. It wasn't until second semester of my freshman year that I actually got to know her though. At the time, though, I was completely unaware of how important this girl would become to me.

Our minimal conversations that were confined to the company of mutual friends began to branch out. I don't remember when exactly I realized I considered Sarah a friend, but I think that's the beauty of it. Our friendship doesn't have a defining moment. It was something that grew naturally and still does to this day. Now I am lucky enough to call her my best friend.

Sarah is one of those people who has always visibly had my back. While I am usually aware of the support that I have among my friends, Sarah is one of those people who is always front and center, ready to give me a hug or just sit with me. She's been there for me through family trouble, boy drama, stress about school, and all the trivial things I get upset about. She always acknowledges the way I feel and never questions it. She knocks me down a peg or two when I need it.

Sarah is someone I can completely be open and honest with. I would say she's one of the few people who have fully seen just how strange I can actually be. I still know, though, that she loves me for who I am, even when she rolls her eyes or asks out loud, "Why am I friends with you?" She always puts up with my snarky attitude and overconfidence of my knowledge. She knows all of the stupid things I've done and all of the things I get unnecessarily happy about.

Beyond that - and maybe even most importantly - I have the honor of her being open and honest with me in return. I've always known that she is a private person, so the fact that she trusts me enough to talk to me about almost everything means more to me than anything else. I'm not sure what I did to deserve her trust, but I know I would kick myself hard if I ever did anything to lose it.

This past year, both of us have been through a lot of changes. The common thread, however, is that we are right next to each other through everything. Even when we're apart from each other, she's one of the first people I call to tell exciting news or to vent to. She has taught me so much about myself in the time that I have known her. She reminds me to take care of myself, to distance myself from people who make me unhappy, and that it's okay to treat myself to that greasy Five Guys burger every week if I want to. She's not afraid to tag along on my crazy adventures (even though sometimes I have to bug her relentlessly).

At this point, the six paragraphs I have written still do not do her justice. No amount of words would be able to capture the kind of friend I have found in Sarah. She's a beautiful person, inside and out, and you can only truly see that once you get to know her.

So Sarah, thank you for being my best friend. Thank you for putty up with me in my really crappy moods. Thank you for sharing your $2 pizzas with me. Thank you for making me feel less guilty about buying a pint of ice cream by splitting it with me. Thank you for making fun of me while I dance maniacally to "Baby Got Back." Thank you for telling me that necklace does not go with my outfit. Thank you for being willing to put up with me as a roommate for another entire year. Thank you for those late-night moments we have driving back from Jordan's on 435 at 12:00 in the morning.

Thank you for being my best friend. I love you.

21

I recently turned 21 last month. It was a long-awaited birthday for me, more so because I have friends who have been of age for several years at this point. For me, it was finally being able to have full access to Kansas City nightlife. I've never been concerned with drinking - I could always get alcohol from friends, but I rarely drink the way it is. Turn 21 meant I could now go out dancing in the mediocre clubs the metro has to offer and get a beer with a friend who is in town visiting who isn't one for coffee.

Naturally, the day was filled with text messages, phone calls, Facebook posts, and face-to-face wishes. A common theme seemed to peek its head out every once in a while.

"Are you going to get drunk tonight?"

"What's your first drink going to be?"

"What kind of shots are you going to do?"

"Who's going to be your designated driver?"

It was beginning to seem like everyone began expecting me to ensure for myself that I would not remember this birthday. For some reason, it was expected that after 20 years of minimal to no drinking, I was suddenly going to binge and spend my birthday as a drunken mess. Now, not everyone I spoke with suggested this, but it was something that consistently came up. As I began protesting these expectations, the responses to my protests also shared a common thought.

"You have to. It's practically the rules of turning 21."

"You're supposed to take shots on your 21st birthday."

"You should at least get a little drunk."

"Just have fun. It's your birthday. You're supposed to."

All of a sudden, there were these so-called "rules" of a 21st birthday that were being imposed upon me. Apparently I would not be celebrating my birthday "right" if I didn't almost end up over the toilet at the end of the night with my best friend holding my hair back.

Why was it that more people were telling me what to do rather than asking me what I was going to do? Why is there this inherent assumption that everyone gets drunk on their 21st? No matter what reasoning I used, I still was wrong. I say shots are a waste of money, I'm still told I have to take at least one. I say I want to remember my birthday, I'm told I only turn 21 once.

I understand that there are cultures that have certain social rules for different parts of life. However, these rules are not, by any means, set in stone. They are only upheld because it is continuously drilled into people's minds that this is how it's done.

You're supposed to freak out on your wedding day.
You're supposed to be nervous about that exam.
You're supposed to incessantly drink in college.
You're supposed to go to prom.

I think we all could be happier if we would stop forcing these pointless rules on each other and trying to convince our peers they won't be happy if they do it this way. I decided for myself what my birthday was going to be. I did take a shot - only because my mother encouraged me to (apparently I can't resist peer pressure from my mom). However, I enjoyed what I wanted, when I wanted to. I made my birthday what I wanted it to be, not what everyone thought it was supposed to be. And it was one of the best birthdays I have. It is said that rules are made to be broken, and I think social rules are made specifically for that reason.

Be happy, and be a rule-breaker.

Photographs

About two weeks ago, I returned from another trip to Austria and Germany with my family. I had been looking forward to this trip since my parents had first mentioned it to me and my brothers. When the time came to pack, I made sure to pack fewer things this time so I wasn't nearly as encumbered as a I was the last time. I also wanted to ensure I had space to bring back things that I bought. I decided to bring my camera with me so I could snap some pictures of the beautiful Austrian/German scenery. It's a Nikon D40, so I knew it would take quality photographs like I wanted. I promised myself this time that I wouldn't take a whole bunch of pointless pictures. During our last trip, I collected photos of some rather boring things, including items inside of a museum, many facades of buildings, and an eclectic mix of moments in nature. This isn't to say that these things are completely boring and pointless, but the pictures lack meaning when I can't even remember the reason why I took them in the first place. Showing someone over one hundred pictures of I-can't-remember-what-this-is-or-why-I-took-this-picture gets old really fast. I also believe pictures aren't interesting to others unless you yourself are in it, something beautiful or awesome from nature or a culture is captured, or some strange event is the subject.

I wanted my pictures to be purposeful this time. I decided to bring a plush Kermit the Frog with me that I had bought recently. I figured it would be fun to dedicate the focus of my pictures to Kermit this time. After all, how can something not be interesting with Kermit the Frog in it? Kermit did end up being the center of attention in all of the pictures I took. However, I only used my phone to take pictures of him since it was lightweight, convenient, and got the job done. I didn't take a single picture with my camera the entire week. I still only ended up taking under seventy pictures while I was there. That's roughly ten pictures per day. There are a couple reasons for my lack of photos.

First, since I had already been to most of the places we visited, it wasn't quite as new. This trip, I tended to sit back more, listen to the information being relayed to us, and appreciate in a different way what I was experiencing. It's like reading a book for a second time and picking up on things that were hidden in the story that you missed the first time through.

Secondly, and most importantly, my desire to take pictures of things I'm doing has diminished to almost nothing. Instead of focusing my energy on trying to capture my experiences, I actually enjoy the experience. While photos can be a valuable way to reminisce, I feel like they lose their nostalgia when more focus is devoted to the picture rather than the story behind it. The saying goes "A picture is worth a thousand words," but I think recently we've been deleting some of those words in an effort to document every second of our lives.

A great example of this is whenever I go to a concert. I prefer to be on the floor and at the front so I have a good view of the band and I have fewer distractions of people around me. I also enjoy being close to the amps and speakers so I can feel the vibrations of the music. It's an entrancing experience that transforms my mind for an hour. When the band comes out, I snap a picture or two, and then dive into my experience of the show. All around me, however, are people who spend the entire time recording videos that will most likely have poor audio or snapping a bunch of pictures that are dark and really only show off the stage lights; they watch the entire concert through their phone. If I wanted to watch a concert through a screen, I wouldn't pay $40 to stand in a crowded room and deal with the stench of sweat, weed, and cheap beer. Not only do I think these people are missing out on an experience, but they're distorting the experiences of the people around them trying to see past the phones held high in front of their views.

I understand taking pictures for posterity, but do we really need 50 pictures of the same scene? In this day and age, we are able to capture and publish every second we wish to share with the world. There are children who haven't spoken their first word whose entire lives so far are completely exposed. Nothing is a mystery anymore. We look at old photographs, and there's a story that needs to be told to solve the mystery. I value my memories more than a photograph. I can hold on to my memories longer and not worry as much about losing them if I spill Coke Zero on my laptop. Sure, my mind will eventually deteriorate. That's why humanity developed oral tradition and written tradition. I think telling a story rather than showing it allows the imagination to work more - it's why books are almost always better than movies. On top of that, my life isn't interesting enough that my story needs to live on forever. The lifespan of my story isn't determined by me anyway; that's up to the people who hear my story. They decide whether or not my story is carried on for a while longer. Cameras are beautiful inventions, but I think our overuse of them has depleted their significance and wonder.

Experience your life, don't try to capture it in a box.