Certain Endings

What does it really mean to be someone's "second choice?" Being considered a second choice often carries a negative connotation. "Don't ever be someone's second choice, you deserve so much better," I have been told. This is true. But, what about those movies where the best friend eagerly waits on the sidelines, while his or her friend continues to date the wrong person? Those situations seem to be accepted, even desired at times, by our culture. Why is it ok to be someone's second choice then? Perhaps it is the happy ending guarantee. The ending where the best friend gets his guy or girl and they live happily ever after. The real world doesn't work that way unfortunately. Not to say that one can't work towards a happing ending. But, the odds of convincing someone to like you who doesn't like you (or worse, is madly in love with someone else) are against you. Alas, people still continue to wait for that person they believe to be special. I used to be the girl that would tell people, "Why are you doing this to yourself? You should find someone who treats you like a princess. Don't be his second option." Now that I find myself the second choice, I feel torn. On one hand, I still feel as though no one should be a second choice for any guy. But, I also realize now that the contents of relationships differ, and rules often vary from situation to situation. Will I get my happy ending? I honestly do not know. Whether my happy ending comes soon or later, I can rest assured knowing I will get one someday. And, regardless of if it's the happy ending they envision for themselves, everyone is at least guaranteed an ending.  

Adventures Coming Soon...in California!

Ah, home sweet home (Big Sur Coast)

Well, I suppose I should share that the train car that is my life received a jolt today. I am for certain moving back to California! Well, I'm not sure "moving" is the correct term in this instance. More like, visiting indefinitely? All in all, my time in Michigan, it would appear, has come to an end. I have lived in this great state for 3 years and 8 months. There are experiences and memories which I will cherish forever. But, while I am happy to be on a new adventure, I am also sad to leave, and a part of me does feel like a failure. I know, it's totally irrational, but, I feel as though my Michigan life might have been doomed from the start. Thinking about my mindset two days after graduating from high school (which is when I hopped on a plane and got my fine booty to the mitten), all I was looking to do was run away. Run away from my parents, from high school, from my brother. So yes, in hindsight moving to Michigan wasn't a well thought out plan. But,  alas, be it in California or Alaska, I am hoping to pursue some sort of career that involves writing (leaning towards journalism). When it comes to pursuing a writing degree, I have discovered this one invaluable lesson: the degree is only as good as the institution it was acquired from. So, I am planning on uprooting what little life I have made for myself, and follow what my heart tells me I should do. I would like to think I am not so self involved that I am blinded to those around me. I realize that, because I am dependent on my family, I am affecting their lives with every decision I make, and every action I take. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but is it so unacceptable? I have friends that are still dependent on their parents/families, and they (and their families) appear to be just fine with themselves. I hope that when I move back to California, I discover more about myself than I ever have before. I know that my time in Michigan has not been wasted, and that I have learned so much already. But I want more. When I move back to California, and begin living with my mother and step-father, it has been promised to me that I will have time. Glorious time! Time to work downtown and make money, time to sit and write for hours on end if I wanted to, and time to take classes that I actually want to take. I will have time to LIVE. This is an exciting/unsure/liberating time in my life. I feel like a college freshmen again! But, with this, I have only one more message to convey: Hey California! I am back! This time, I have nothing to hide.  Prepare for the new Rachel Elizabeth Finkbeiner! She has come to grab the proverbial bull by the horns, and will not let go until she has made that bull her bitch! Yeah, I said it. Bitch.

Purpose Not Guaranteed

I have heard stories of people living their entire lives, but never actually living them. Stories about people living from day to day, living for their parents' dreams and wishes, even living because they are simply too afraid to die. I think the worst life a person can live, is a life where their foundation for happiness is a lie. Sure, many people can make a lie work in their favor. If riches and professional successes outweigh pure joy of the heart and mind, well then, more often then not, to those individuals living a lie is a small price to pay. Does everyone really have a career-related purpose on this planet? Is there some profession, some "calling" that every person is meant to fulfill? I wish I knew the answer to that question. Some days I wonder why I am even here; in Michigan, in America, even on planet earth. I am not on a path toward any discernible purpose, and I am not getting any younger. It's strange, our minds can choose to live in the past, but our bodies can never experience such events ever again. Oh how I wish I could go back, back to high school and junior high. There is an exorbitant amount of aspects and situations I would change. Substantial, life changes to my body, my self esteem, my perception of other people, and my environment. But, thinking about the past has only ever lead me to feel bitter, shameful, and isolated. Perhaps the reason I look so far back into my own past, is because I am hoping to find my path. It may not make sense, but I feel as though my path was shown to me years ago, and that I missed it, or turned away from it. The track on which my proverbial train car of life is resting upon, has already been determined. I just pray to god that sooner rather than later, I find out what the hell it's made of.

Pretty Girl Rock

I came across this quote from Marilyn Monroe today: "All little girls should be told they are pretty, even if they aren't." I can agree with this, to a certain extent. I do believe self esteem is a thing that needs to be built up, so as to not crumble when inevitably attacked. But, to imply that there is a formula, or set of rules to abide by which makes one "pretty," I do not agree with. "...even if they aren't." What exactly would make them un-pretty? To me, there is no such thing. To define not pretty, there must be a clear definition of the term pretty. Can we fully define what makes someone pretty and what makes someone not as pretty? Scientist's argue symmetry in one's face or body. However, on more than one occasion, I have heard girls exclaim emphatically, "Wait! Stop, take the picture from the left. The left side of my face is better." I am even guilty of this. According to scientist's in America, I am not pretty. My nose is crooked, which makes the two sides of my face unsymmetrical and uneven. Another flaw I have are my lips. They are violently thin and constantly chapped. Needless to say, boys aren't lined up outside waiting to steal a kiss. But, despite what science and pop culture has told me all of my life, I still feel pretty most of the time. I guess I should give more credit to my self esteem then anything else. I just have this overwhelming belief in my heart and mind, the belief that physical beauty is entirely objective, and changes from culture to culture. It is a belief which I'm sure many people would say they can agree with. I find it so liberating to know that physical beauty is defined differently all over the world. There are no cookie-cutter ideals of beauty, variety is accepted and sought after! Physical beauty and being perceived as attractive by men has been another one of my concerns (along with me figuring out who the hell I am, of course). I think it's because you show the world a piece of your identity with your clothes, your hair, your skin, and how other's perceive you will primarily be due to their first impression of you. Hopefully with time, I'll be able to determine how I want to present myself to the world. But right now, that is still a mystery to me. Until that becomes apparent,  I'll just keep listening to"Pretty Girl Rock" by Keri Hilson, and continue fantasizing about my future fabulousness.

Not So Brief Introductions

Perquisition (n): A thorough inquiry of search.

I titled this, my first blog, 21 Perquisitions, because I am 21 and searching. So original, right? Also, I really like saying the word perquisition. Pur-quiz-ition! Rolls right off the tongue. I have some vague idea of what it is I'm searching for; my identity. Ones identity is a big deal, and I haven't fully grasped mine yet. I can, at this moment, openly say I do not know who I am or what I want my life to be. For a while, that intimidated me. I would not admit that to anyone, especially myself. I thought I had to know exactly who I was, and what I wanted to be before I was 21. And yet, here I am, sitting on my Aunt and Uncle's orange couch from the 70's, feeling dizzy from the Mono, realizing I am two weeks past 21 and totally aimless. My contraction of mono could be considered a blessing and a curse. On one hand, my days are dull and the hours run together like melted frosting. I am not able to workout, but  do eat far and above my daily caloric intake for my designated BMI. My days consist of eating, sleeping, and fantasizing about a different life. Sounds pathetic, I know, but it's quite liberating. You see, because of mono, I could very well discover my path in life. I'm hoping I discover something of value in the 2-3 months I am confined, other then finally seeing what I would look like fat (which, given how much I've been eating, is a likely possibility). The brake on my train car of a life has been pulled, and I am here, still on the track, but stranded out in the middle of nowhere left to wait. There is nothing left for me to do but unpack my train car, and examine it's contents.

Let's start with what has caused me the most internal anguish; choice of major/future career path. I have jumped from too many career paths and majors over the past 3 years. It's as if I become anxious when routine begins to develop, and I constantly feel unsatisfied with life in general. I feel as though there should be more to my life then this. The future seems to just fall into place for so many people, why won't it for me?! Granted, I don't feel trapped in this cosmic struggle, it's not that severe. I simply wish I knew what I wanted and had a clear, attainable goal to reach. But I don't. Screw making money or having security in life. I just want to be happy with me, myself, and I. Because in the end, all we are left with is ourselves anyway. But, I digress. It is my hope that while my train car is stopped, I can de-clutter and begin filling it with what it is I truly want. This blog is going to help me do so. But, I think this introduction has gone on long enough. It's time for me to roll up my sleeves and get to work on constructing my identity. Now, where do I start?