Lonely and Lovin’ It

Everyone loves their alone time. Mom’s love to sneak away for a manicure, dad’s don’t mind working on the car all day (or at least that’s what we’ll keep telling ourselves so we don’t feel bad for making them fix it) and college kids love wasting away mornings (and evenings… and afternoons… and all day, everyday) watching Netflix in bed with a bowl of cereal (preferably Frosted Flakes). It helps us to recharge so we can be better humans when we’re around other humans. Not to mention a little more patient…

And I, just like everyone else (… I think I just referred to myself normal…), love my Megan time. Hence, I have a blog and constantly have an excuse to lock myself in my room and claim that I’m being (semi) productive. Not to say I don’t love a little TLC, but it’s nice to hear my own thoughts every once and a while (if you lived in my apartment, you’d understand). The only time I don’t love alone time is when I’m at practice. Rowing in a boat. All. By. Myself. You can imagine it to be a quiet and serene time for meditation as you’re pushing your blades through the water, leaving your negative thoughts and energy behind you, right? Wrong. Well, formerly wrong.

The first time I ever rowed in a single (a boat with just one person), I cried. I couldn’t shake off my frustration with my lack of technique, and panicked the entire time I wasn’t holding onto a somewhat stable platform (aka, the moment I left the dock until the moment I re-docked after practice). Mind you, I’m deathly afraid of the ocean. And where do we row? The ocean. (I didn’t quite think that one through before I committed.) And the smaller the boat, the less stability you have. So it’s not completely unnatural that I would be scared to row by myself! Less stability, and no one else to calm my fears. Literal nightmare. (Insert sympathy here.)

Today, I met my maker. And it wasn’t the ocean, or the boat, or the big sharks and whales that were waiting deep, down at the bottom of the ocean to eat me. It was just me. Plain, old, stubborn Megan.

I rowed in a single for only the second time ever, and I absolutely loved it. My strokes were smoother than they’ve ever been (not much to compare it to, but still), and I was as calm and collected as a cucumber. What made today so different? I told myself today would be different. I sat in the boat, pushed off the dock, and as I went to take that first stroke I thought to myself, “Meg, it’s going to be a great row. Make it happen.” So I did.


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It wasn’t the ocean that I was scared of. Okay, let me rephrase that: I’m always scared of the ocean, but that’s not what was causing my anxiety the first time I tried rowing by myself. I was scared to challenge myself, because I was afraid of failing. But what is failing, really? Falling in the water? Maybe to some, but I don’t think for me. Flipping my boat would have meant that I made a mistake in the stroke, but not that I failed. I failed the last time I went out in that boat because I let myself down; my attitude failed. I was destined for trouble the moment I put that boat in the water because I didn’t believe in myself. It had nothing to do with my inability to row well, but had everything to do with my inability to trust myself. And if I can’t trust myself, then I’m going to have a really hard time trusting anyone else.

By giving myself a chance today, I allowed myself to be surprised–to be inspired by my own abilities. And more so than my quality row, I’m impressed with my attitude and my positivity. I kept my head up and kept on going, even amidst the (literal) wakes.

As far as my personal life goes, lonely and not so much lovin’ it. But thank goodness for my beautiful and sweet mama who arrived this morning for a weekend visit. A girl is never too old for some motherly love (or cooking).

You’re your own best friend and your own worst enemy. You decide which one you’re going to be today. (Considering it’s a Saturday, I’d take the easy route and decide to be friends–we’re all tired.) Whenever you doubt yourself, know that you can do it. But only if you think you can. So put your mind to it and do it. Plus, I’ll always believe in you, so that should count for something, right? 🙂

Keep doing you. However, regardless of my incredible row this morning, I don’t advise rowing a single in the process (if you do: stay positive and bring some dry clothes).

Happy Weekending!

-Megan

I Love to Wine

Whoops… I clearly forgot the ‘h’. Whine. I totally meant whine. I’m just shy of being 21 (122 days shy, to be exact; but who’s counting?), and because I’m a type A, rule-follower, I 100% meant whine. (No really, I did.) I love a good cry and a few complaints here and there (don’t we all), and when the circumstances are just right, I throw a pretty good tantrum. Sometimes even 2-year-old status. I’m not sure if that should be embarrassing and shameful or impressive. I’ll assume the latter to keep the remnants of my sanity that I have remaining after surviving the first week of second semester…

Although I love to whine (preferably about school), my family likes wining of a different sort. And I can assure you that they do, indeed, hate my whining, considering it’s costing them an arm and a leg ($$$).

Over the holidays we spent some time in the mountains of Calaveras county at my grandparents’ house. My mom and I, along with a few of my aunts and cousins (and Stephanie), went wine tasting. It was a difficult battle, but somehow I managed to win the coveted prize of being the DD. Translation: I was the only one under 21. I know it sounds devastating to be the only one not drinking (and for some, it would have been), but it was actually a really great time. It was a chance to spend some QT with the lovely ladies of my family (and James). Not to mention, everyone was slightly happier and a lot funnier than usual. Always a plus of the wine effect.


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I love my familia (you too, Steph)


And while I was going to post about what an incredible time I had in Murphy’s with my family (see above to scope out the adventure), I had some powerful insight brought to me about wine. And because a blog post wouldn’t be a Megan Signature unless it had some deep #foodforthought (or some glittery embossing), I thought I’d share the most in-depth analysis of wine that I’ve heard to date. So here it is:

Wine, like life, is all about circumstances and timing. You can have all the ingredients for something perfect, but if you don’t let it ferment or if the timing is off, it’s just bitter. And if you wait too long, it turns to vinegar. Everything is about timing. Kind of like how breakfast foods aren’t breakfast foods at dinner time. It doesn’t matter what you’re eating, it’s when you’re eating it. Now they’re dinner foods.

-Liz Shaeffer (I’d post a picture with this lovely girl, but she’d probably just whine (pun intended) that she didn’t have the chance to approve it before it was published.)

Timing, timing, timing. Good things come with time. Sometimes they just fall into place and other times we have to work to find them a place. If something great is literally gifted to you by God’s own two hands (lucky you), take it. Run with it. Never let go of it. But if it’s not (99.99% of the time), don’t be afraid to work for it. Push for what you want, it’s the only way you can guarantee your own success. Timing won’t always be perfect, but you’ll never know until you try. You might taste a few bitter bottles, but that’s what we call progress: living and learning. Plus, I hear there’s nothing a good margarita can’t fix (even a vinegary bottle of wine).

Bottom line: Eat cereal for dinner (it always tastes better at night), and when you open a bad bottle of wine, switch to tequila.

Keep doing you. Hopefully while eating Frosted Flakes (my fave) or drinking some wine (not my fave for another 4 months). Just don’t do them both together. Or do–more power to ya.

Oh, and don’t forget to whine every once and a while (my ultimate fave).

-Megan

P.S. Always drink responsibly!

This New Years post is so late it’s Old…

Where do I even begin? I’ve been meaning to write for, hmmmm, I don’t know, since the very second I published my last post, but I haven’t been able to find the time or the energy! Excuses, excuses. I know, I’m sorry. New Years crept up on me (as did this extra 10 lbs I’ve been hauling around since Christmas), and before I knew it, I was sitting on a Southwest plane, awaiting my arrival into LAX to start winter training camp. And here I find myself now, a proud (yet unlikely) survivor of 11 hellish (yet grossly enjoyable) practices, and I am exhausted.


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In typical Megan-fashion (late, that is): HAPPY NEW YEAR!! I hope you’ve decided to be an even better you than you were in 2014, and I hope you’ve made some challenging (but attainable) resolutions for this year. I’ve tried to make a short list of personal goals for my life in 2015. And here it is:

  1. If I need a good cry, cry. No one’s judging me. And if they are, well then I’m judging them for judging me. #gettingeven
  2. Limit all that “unreal” food that I eat. I’m pretty sure it’s all just chemicals. If my food grows, breathes or has less than 5 ingredients (not to mention, can be pronounced), it’s probably a better source of nutrients. Not to discount the occasional McDonald’s fries and a soft serve (best combination… trust me), but it shouldn’t be my midnight snack… every night…. (or even every Thursday). Read: exception to this is Splenda. The world (my world) does not exist without it. Maybe I’ll try and ditch that one come Lent. My insides can only hope..
  3. Be more flexible. And no, not like that. (Get your head out of the gutter!) I mean with my schedule. Plans change, people cancel, life happens. I know it’s easier to have plans and to be certain, but let’s be real: it never works out the way it’s planned. Murphy’s law. So I’m going to get limber, stop using Sharpie’s and make sure to constantly carry Wite-Out to make corrections to my life plans. Harder than it seems but, nonetheless, worth an attempt.
  4. And lastly: smile more, smile often.

I know it’s late for a New Years post (11 days to be exact), but that’s just it: it’s never too late to be a better you, and it’s never too late to start over. The most incredible detail of your life is that it’s your life. You decide what changes you make and when, and you decide when it’s your moment. So make it happen; why not make it right now? Make this your moment. You’re ready, you just have to own it, work it, be it.

Keep doing you, and I wish you nothing but health and happiness in 2015! Now go make this year your ‘you know what’ (trying my best to keep it PG and PC).

-Megan