She was going through a rough patch in her early twenties when her mother died, and she had a revelation that no one was coming to save her.
“Whether we admit it or not, so many of us are waiting for someone to come along and fix our problems. No one can climb in your skin and live your life for you. My happiness and success are up to me alone. I own my life.”
Barnett said she had a psychological 180, that she stopped doubting herself and worrying about what others thought of her life.
“Create a life for yourself and then love and protect it as your most valuable asset. Don’t let anyone come in and change it, especially under the guise of taking care of you.”
Whoa. I did some hard thinking.
Letting go of the notion that someone will come along to shoulder your burdens is a big part of maturing. Do you think you’re there yet? And if so, how did you get there? Or, alternately, do you think it’s okay to hope for support in that way?
Photo from Black Enterprise.
What the…? This changes everything. (via Loobylu)
Summer is already half way over? Whiplash.
Amber and I spent the last few days putting together this list of 75 Ideas for Summer. Each goal has a story with links to resources, so both of us kept falling down Internet rabbit holes. A few of the best things we came across:
• A ludicrously easy way to fill and tie water balloons.
• The rules for Croquet, The Drinking Game
• A video of Ginger Rogers doing the Charleston
• 31 Habits that up your chances of living to 100.
• A Ben Howard video with a enormous homemade slip ‘n’ slide.
• 30 Writing Tips from Famous Authors
• Black Tie Picnic!
• The New Yorker on Why We Should Memorize Poetry
• Super detailed maps and trail lists for a trip to the Redwoods
• 50 Places to Make Out Before You Die
The #gosummer game is still in effect. If you tag your goals and stories on Go Mighty, we’ll enter you for a chance to win a ticket to Camp Mighty.
Let me know your favorite quirky summer thing, and maybe we’ll add it to the list for next year.
Eavesdropping. Three lines from the first date unfolding at the bar:
1. “I mean, I don’t have anything against China or anything.”
2. “That’s the kind of vampire I like.”
3. “Do you really think that if you, like, 100 percent believe you won’t die, you won’t die?”
Girlfriends in conversation:
-Oh. They’re cute.
-I like the awkward one. Surprise. I should just have that engraved on my tombstone.
Driving through the Castro, I notice a distinguished older gentleman walking outside the theater. He wears a white beard, a tweed blazer, and a cheerleading sweater.
It’s a white turtleneck with the word VIKINGS in purple and gold, yelling a deep V across his chest. I recognize this particular sweater from high school, suddenly recall a dozen identical girls cheering for the opposing team — a screaming, syncronized frenzy washed in October stadium lights.
The gentleman edges along with his cane, stopping every few feet to wave and smile at a friend. It’s a quiet, late Wednesday afternoon. Valley High is still going for the win.