What do ya say to taking chances?

So it's been a week,
One week since I flew from PHX to PDX for the first time to start a new job, in a strange new city where I promptly took an Instagram of my feet on the PDX airport carpet.
To rent a space in a stranger's home and somehow learn my way to work.

It's been fucking insane.

I've cried a lot, I've considered heading straight to the airport more times than I can count, I've sobbed on the phone to my father desperately seeking a pep talk or the green light to give up.
But I've made it a week.
On Monday I got so lost using the public transit that I exited the bus after learning I was in fact going the completely opposite direction. The minute my boot hit the sidewalk, it started hailing. 
I met my boss after stumbling into my now office, 40 minutes late, breathless and damp from the expected rain from the Portland forecast.
My boss is a conservative gentleman in his late 50's, he listens to Rush Limbaugh talk radio consecutively throughout our work day and quizzically asked me what I ate for Thanksgiving as a vegan.
Anyone who knows me would be shocked that I did not promptly exit the way I entered after 10 minutes of my first day.
But my boss reminds me to get lunch everyday so that I don't get hangry.
He gives me the honest truth regarding the neighborhood's I find available rooms in via Craigslist.
We share a sarcastic sense of  humor. 
He appoints me the job of decorating his family Christmas e-vite with "Christmas shit" included.
I say good morning to Erin and Faye everyday.
Paul and Patti share their coffee with me.
I have yet to encounter an unfriendly or less than chipper attitude here in Portland. 
The bus lady was happy to tell me to take bus #44 next time, not #4.
The lady at New Seasons grocery store happily let me cut in front of her when I was nervous of missing my bus on my second day.
My air bnb hosts offered to let me move in month to month starting January while I continue to search for a long term renting situation.
So although I've cried, doubted and cursed, I swear there has been some divine energy urging me to stay, bringing people into my brand new "life" in Portland, to encourage, support and love me in a way.
During my brief exploration of downtown Portland, I wandered through one of the biggest book stores and iconic landmarks in Portland, Powell's Books. I settled on two, despite my normal 3 + books whenever I allow myself to browse the intoxicating aisle of a book store or library.
One of my choices was titled "The Opposite of Loneliness" by Marina Keegan. Marina was a 2014 Yale graduate who tragically died 5 days after graduation. This book is a compilation of her short stories, poems, plays, essays and thoughts.

"What we have to remember is that we can still do anything. We can change our minds. We can start over. The notion that it's too late to do anything is comical. It's hilarious. We can't, we must not lost this sense of possibility,
because in the end it's all we have." 


 

Bodies

I don't usually go into much detail regarding my relationship with my body.
Because it's just a body, right?
Wrong.
My body is my home
the vessel of my soul that allows me to live on this planet
 to eat donuts
 to make love
 to run, and skip
 to fall down and scrape my knee
 to make a decision and completely change my mind
 to create another life,
 or to not.
Our bodies allow us to climb mountains and travel the world and take us where we want to go. 
My body and I have had a rocky relationship to say the least.
From a young age, I told myself that my body was not good enough.
I wasn't even sure what my idea of a "good" was, just that it must be the opposite of mine.
I was an unusually short child, but my belly made up for the lack of height, in width.
I was a swimmer for about twelve years of my life. I wasn't awesome but I didn't suck.
I was a floater (pun intended)
Something I remember recognizing early on in my swimming experience was that I looked very different than my fellow female teammates. I didn't have the tall, lean body. I wore a size 28 swimsuit whilst they were rocking the 26-24. I had the infamous speed bumps...
*Speed Bumps (noun)- The fatty tissue that collects on one's hips creating a "speed bump" when moving one's hands down the sides starting from the ribcage. synonym: "muffin tops"
So wearing a tight, nylon, fastspeed speedo swimsuit was horrifying.
However, feeling like an orca whale trapped in a tiny fishing net, I pushed through the 5:15 am practices for years.

But it wasn't until my sophomore year of college when I took my insecurity and hatred of my body to a new level of self destruction.
I moved to a new state, was starting a new school, I wanted to be a new me.
Brooke 2.0
I would finally have the thigh gap and the collarbone
size 0 would be a normal part of my shopping trips
Although I did not mentally decide "I think I'll starve myself starting today"
I started this mental and physical game with myself with food and working out.
The staples of my diet included:
frozen bags of corn
sweet potatoes
whole wheat waffles
oatmeal
coffee
I signed up for a crossfit class and was doing high intensity work outs and supplementing my "off" days with 45 minutes, at least, on the stair climber.
I made it, I weighed 108 at my skinniest, wore a size 0 in shorts, finally liked my smile because it wasn't ruined by my persistent and stubborn baby fat cheeks.
I also still hated myself.
I was diagnosed with PTSD and chronic depression, thought seriously about dropping out of school and checking myself into a facility and attempted to deal with my first heartbreak in the tiny Greek community on campus.
But I was 108 pounds, I had a thigh gap and size 26 jeans.
Fast Forward to today. November 17th, 2015
Age 22
Weight (I'd guess aronund 130? Haven't weighed myself in months, EDA rule #1)
Size 26/27 jeans
Depression and Anxiety is managed through yoga, medication etc.
My heart is full and I'm 100% in love with my adventure buddy and best friend.
I'm a college graduate moving to Portland, Oregon in less than 2 weeks for a job with a non-profit (a job I've dreamed about for forever!)
And the really interesting part?
-is how warped the perception I had of myself. Looking at childhood photos today, I didn't look that much different. Sure I had baby fat and I was shorter than most, but I was not nearly the size I thought and felt that I was.
This is a testament to how gentle we need to be with ourselves and how our self talk truly makes a difference in our lived experience.  So what's my point, telling this dramahhhhtic story about my mental/physical health during my college years?
Well, frankly I don't know what my point is. The fact that I'm publicizing my body struggles and current guestimation of my weight (What the actual fuck..) is a huge step for me.
It's this place I'm coming to in my womanhood, to come clean almost about who I am and where I've been and how god damn hard it is to get to this place.
And to admit that ED recovery is an everyday battle. There are days when I wake up feeling like a badass, curvy, sexy woman and live in a way that demands my curves to be honored.
And there are days like today, like everyday this past week, that I remember the conversations I had in my head during my disordered eating/lifestyle. I remember exactly what I did to get as skinny as I was and for maybe a minute or two, I contemplate going back to my old ways.
I'm writing this to show that I'm human, that some days I'm proud of my thick thighs, my breasts and my  booty; I'm proud of the woman I've become and the body I inhabit.
But just as often, I yearn for my brief 19 year old body. But with it, came the decline of my mental health and self worth.

It's a process, it's baby steps, it takes time. I'm still learning.

The 20-something old soul

Take it Easy

I feel that the real desire to avoid any type of creation, artwork, writing etc. that I have been experiencing is an even bigger sign for me to do just that.
I have avoided my personal journal for months because I attempt to rationalize the idea that I just don't know what to say.
Any one who knows me in person is probably laughing at that idea; I always have something to say, and then some.
But today I woke up and felt different.
Maybe it was the slight change in barometric pressure in the atmosphere followed by the storm clouds rolling into the valley on the horizon.
I may feel a little bit more connected to my universe, inner goddess and soul from my very sweaty and much needed yoga practice.
It might be the little bit of herbal encouragement sparking new neuron connections in my brain. 
So here I sit, at my seafoam green desk, with three candles and a frankinsence burning, the windows blowing in some fresh "autumn" air, the light is muted and cloudy.
I find myself very sensitive and in tuned with the changing seasons; time of year. There is a shift in energy and I feel it radiating off of every human I come into contact with.
It's a feeling deep in my bones, chakras and mindseye.
Change is coming.
And it has never felt more important to be gentle with my empath self.

These are the days I live for. 

Growing up in Arizona would be few and far between rainy days. And when those days did grace my hometown, it was as if a new beginning was around every corner.
I can only speak for myself, but each monsoon or drizzly day brought a new hope to my consciousness; the world outside almost felt magical with the dewy grass, my favorite smell of wet concrete and dirt, the clean air to breathe and snail"hunting" or in my case, saving from the busy roads.
But for some reason, I've been lacking a desire to create. To write, to paint, to sketch, to draw, to sing.
My person has been encouraging me for months to sing with him; claiming I have a good voice (lolz love you baby)
Only in the solitude of my crazy, beautiful mess of a brain, will I admit how there is nothing more that I want than to create with him.
As the calm, moaning voice of Jessica Lea Mayfield plays on repeat from my speakers, I may just pick up the long neglected paintbrush from the box labeled "art stuff" under my bed.

always breathe deeply.
the 20-something old soul

Hair Cuts and Life Decisions

It's amazing when you finally gain the courage to speak your truth.
And to see the domino affect of the Universe displaying all the connections and scenarios that so very clearly show you that it was all meant to be.

"Sometimes you need to step outside, get some air and remind yourself of who you are and who you want to be." 

Traveling around Europe for 2 1/2 weeks, being in foreign places, eating bizarre foods, sleeping in strange beds, missing my dog, feeling the ache and longing for my person even more, being thousands of miles away,
Was just what I needed to come face to face with the big fat elephant in my life.
The "Oh you must be so excited for this next adventure" that was making me feel badass whilst simultaneously sick to my stomach with anxiety and paralyzed with fear.
The attempt to be this wanderlust, adventure girl who can take off to uncharted territory for a year+ and feel completely content with all of the unknowns, question marks and spontaneity that Costa Rica would provide.

It is still difficult for me to say it out loud, to force myself to justify checking "no" on a once in a lifetime adventure.
Even more so, I find myself overly concerned with "what will people think?" when they hear that I opted out of my first post grad job in a tropical paradise, and basically, that I bailed; I wasn't adventurous enough, this facade of being light hearted and aching for wanderlust, is merely just an attempt to be something that I'm so obviously

NOT.

hmph.
It still stings. I follow instagram after instagram of these badass, wild, in love with life twenty-somethings and I so very badly want to be them. Be one of them. Buy a plane ticket to wherever and live life as a vagabond and gypsy, getting lost in town after town, meet people from all walks of life in every corner of the world.
Even as I write this, the longing creeps up again and the self doubt that seems to surface at the perfect time makes it's way to my consciousness.

But the truth is,

I'm a homebody. I love my bed and my library of books that hold so much meaning to me, and my dog's snores in the middle of the night, and the simplicity of home.
Traveling in Europe for 2 weeks was magical and exciting and moving, but wrapping it all up in a hot shower, crawling in between my sky blue sheets and under my dreamcatcher was almost sweeter.
I realized, I am longing to nest. To establish My home. As an adult, as Brooke Nicole, post college graduate, twenty-something, old soul.
So,
I finally spoke the words that kept me up late at night, tossing and turning, wondering and fretting;
 I will not be moving to Costa Rica in January to teach English abroad.
PHEW.
In the meantime, I will be living back at the nest with my loving and understanding mother whilst I work at a coffeeshop ( dream finally coming true! just call me barista Brooke) save money, study and get excited about my newest adventure that is Grad School and a home of my own.

I also chopped 6 inches off my forever long and messy, curly hair; ChChChChanges are good peeps <3

Always speak your truth,
the 20-somthing old soul

C*** and Bookstores with Bars

Today I find myself in a favorite local Phoenix spot called Changing Hands bookstore which includes a bar called the First Draft in which serves alcohol as well as specialty coffee and drinks. I'm sitting at a bar surrounded by fellow Phoenicians either nose-deep in a book or click clacking away on their laptops. Some with a steaming mug of the house brewed coffee and others with a 6 oz (not a Utah 4oz!) pour of red wine.
These are my kind of peeps. It's not even noon.
After perusing the bookshelves and reading, which seemed like every single book sleeve description,
I settled on two:
Cunt by Inga Muscio
&
The Mindfulness Coloring Book:Anti-Stress Art Therapy for Busy People (which is basically a coloring book for adults; my excitement for this one is a little ridiculous.)
I'm fully prepared for the puzzled stares that I will receive in the airport on Monday with my 400 page book titled with a taboo term for the female genitalia on the cover page sitting next to my precious coloring book.
BRING ON THE JUDGEMENTAL STARES FOLKS.
No but in all honesty, the book Cunt has been on my book wish list, which is constantly being added to on a daily basis, since my declaration of my Gender Studies major. 
By just reading the introduction, I can feel the goosebumps spread up my arms and my brain start to tick in anticipation of the brilliance that these pages contain.
The  foreword includes comments made by Betty Dodson, author of Sex for One and a well known Ph.D within the women's studies community.
I'm the first to admit that I too cringe the slightest bit when I hear the word cunt thrown around so casually; most likely due to the negative connotation and the reputation of being politically incorrect. But as I further invest myself within the world of social activism, I'm coming across many nouns that hold such power and hurt. It is in this book, that challenges us/feminists/womyn/ allies etc, to reclaim the word Cunt as our own and as a powerful representation of the female pleasure point.

It's these independent, proud, brave, sexually confident, feminist womyn like Inga Muscio, Eve Ensler, Audre Lorde, bell hooks, and all of the magnificent and challenging feminist theorists that shove me out of my comfort zone, demand to be heard and inspire me that much more to follow my dreams of Graduate School; recently with plans of studying Public Health with an emphasis on womyn's and LGBTQ issues.
I dream of becoming an educator of comprehensive sex education and body positivity.
I highly encourage you to put down the tablet, the iphone, the video game; get lost in a world of ink and paper; use your imagination, learn something new, challenge your beliefs and thoughts, learn about Feminism and politics.
Read a Damn Book. 

If you need me, I'll be sipping something strong and burying my nose in a book.

namaste,
the 20-something old soul

This Is The Part Where You Find Out Who You Are

I'm right at the edge.
Sitting in the waiting room of a new chapter; a new beginning; a new existence.
And I'm terrified.
Tonight marks the beginning of my last week in Utah. So it seems;
A HUGE part of my life and my heart will stay in Utah.
My partner, my lover, my best friend.

I find it amazing how we think we know what we want. For the longest time I begged the Universe for some type of control over my life. So much of the trauma in my childhood was out of my control.

I had, had Enough. 

As a 22 year old woman, I would happily hand back this coveted control, tied up with a big red bow. Ironically, none of us have much control over anything, anyway.

"You are a child of the Universe, no less than the trees and the stars. You have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, there's no doubt that the Universe is unfolding as it should."

I'm actively choosing my future. It was my choice to uproot and move to Utah 3 1/2 years ago; to study and earn my two degrees;
To say hello to the stranger with gorgeous green-blue eyes and the cutest damn dimples I had ever seen, who would become my absolute best friend and the love of my love.
And it is my decision to move over a hundred miles away, back to my hometown for a brief few months, to then embark on the scariest, most independent adventure thus far; move to Costa Rica.
To Leave.
To be Brave.
I choose to do this.
We must sacrifice to gain experience, perspective and to love.
It is never as simple as we hope.
But by god, we have to Live Brave.
Here's to the next chapter, and to the few but mighty who are still standing by my side, cheering me on this bumpy, emotional, fan-fucking-tastic life.
 

Namaste and Stay Brave,
the 20-something old soul

I Run

I'm a runner.
I bail when life just gets too much to handle.
I opt out of saying the awkward "goodbyes", so instead I slip away in the night without leaving a trace.
I've completely uprooted my life.
I left my first college, freshman year after a negative encounter with a fellow student, but to avoid the uncomfortable, "I was almost raped my freshman year of college" conversation, I simply said, "I had a freshman freakout."
and i left.  
I leave places, people, situations, environments, energy, relationships,
as soon as I sense a level of discomfort or uncertainty. Sometimes I think it's a coping mechanism, other times, a

 Cop Out.

As I'm in the midst of a huge life change, all I can think about is my desire to Run.
To run away from the life I've established in Salt Lake City; the friends I've made, the Love I've had, the home I've lived in; my most recent Life.
I want to Run.
Where to exactly? I'm never quite sure.
At first thought it's to run home to the comfort of my home desert, to hide under the covers of THEE world's comfiest bed, surrounded by the 4 walls that supported me.
I want to run to the idea of "it will be different this time".
Run to, "if it's meant to be, it will be."
Run to a blank canvas and fresh oils.
Run to my mat and heart openers. 
Run to an empty plate and twisting stomach.
But Arizona is a temporary fix. I no longer know how to live there as a 20-something transitioning adult. Arizona carries all of the baggage and the past that I so desperately wanted to escape.
But it will do, for now.
This new characteristic of mine is every bit shocking. I used to cling on to everyone and everything. I was never good at goodbyes, I'd avoid them in the way that I'd deny their ever-looming presence.
I would be destroyed by abandonment, death, change, loss of love or stability.
I blamed my cliche "broken childhood" on all of the lack of control  over who would be in my life and when they would abruptly leave.
Now I call the shots; I suppose it is my odd way of finally feeling some type of control. 
But as I continue my transition into adulthood, I find myself just as terrified of the control I have over my future;
 I can literally do whatever I want.
Now, all I want is the uncertainty of every new day. I don't want to plan my life two years from now.
So as the mixed feelings of moving from Utah continue to complicate themselves and wrap even tighter around the uncertainty of the next year and a half,  
I refuse to Run.
I will embrace all of the feelings, good and bad, all of the mental breakdowns, all of the heartbreak, discomfort, transition, and anxiety.
And I will learn to walk. 

Stay Present.
Namaste,
The 20-something old soul

The Post Grad Blues

Something that universities and colleges fail at informing the graduating seniors, is the period of time between graduation and "figuring out your next move". Now where in my "Welcome" packet 4 years ago or my "See ya Later Grad" compilation did I read something close to,

 "CAUTION: After your 4 glorious years at this fantastic institution you may experience a type of "uncertainty" or "anxiety" following the commencement of your graduating class." 

Something I have named,

The Post Grad Blues.

Judy Blume never prepared me for this odd, bittersweet feeling of uncertainty. I think many of us entered our 4 years of education with this belief that by the time we're standing up in front of our friends and families, getting ready to move our tassels and cross the threshold into "real adulthood", that we would have finally figured out the answers to our lives and passions

WRONG.

I can't help but fight this sinking feeling,
something I am unable to put into words.
I will be turning 22 in about 2 1/2 weeks, traveling to Europe for my belated graduation trip with my best friend and mother, soon to be followed by packing up my Utah life and heading South to my  native home desert for a few months of nesting before embarking on my year long adventure in Costa Rica with Language Corps.
Now don't get me wrong;
I'm ecstatic for all these adventures to come, this case of Wanderlust has manifested in various ways and adventure is calling and I must go; I feel incredibly blessed  and fortunate for the opportunities and support that has gotten me to where I am and where I am going.
But still,
This un-namable feeling and looming sadness.
As my life in Utah comes to a close, I have no doubt in the Universe for the timing and particular experiences, feelings and decisions I must make.
But by no means does that make ANY of this easy.
Like mentioned in many of my earlier blog entries, I am a self-identified homebody and old soul.
SHOCKER.
So this unknown future is daunting to say the least. I feel bits and pieces of the similar anxieties from the summer between my senior year of High school and freshman year of college; however looking back, it doesn't seem as "unknown" as it had felt. College is, in many ways, straightforward.
You have the next for years to be a student. The new and exciting part is the privilege to define what being a student means for you, but frankly each semester goes through the same ebb and flow of coursework, stress and final grades.
But alas, I'm rambling; odd phenomena, I know.

Will I miss Utah? Will I be homesick for my old, vintage rental space in Salt Lake rather than my home in Arizona? Or will I miss bits and pieces of both?
Utah in many ways has become my home, I've lived the most recent years of my life  in this state and with the people I've surrounded myself with- which has slowly dwindled to a VERY select few; many with four legs and fur.
So whilst I procrastinate, another rare occurrance for me, hee ha ha.., on my online classes during thee very last summer session of my college career, I can honestly say that I am wholeheartedly putting my trust into the Universe and the divine plan and nature of my life. That is a challenge for me to say the least, but if there is one thing I've learned during this limbo phase of pre-"real" adulthood,
is that we really do not have control over anything; so we might as well enjoy the ride.

Keep it real earthlings; Namaste,
The 20-something old soul.

All Hail Coconut oil

Yes I am aware that coconut oil is kind of a fad and all the rage these days,
But rightfully so!
Here are some of my uses for coconut oil:
Lube- just gonna get this out in the open first and foremost. It's natural, smells wonderful, and healthy for your lady bits! Also, perfect for a massage during foreplay!
Hair- good for hair growth due to the essential proteins, eye lashes, deep conditioner (just be prepared to wash your hair with shampoo several times afterward to completely get all the oil out) I will wrap my hair in plastic wrap for full absorption and, excuse me, moisture. I'll leave it on for an hour or so or sometimes sleep with it! For us curly haired babes, there is no such thing as "too-much conditioner". Coconut oils keeps my beachy waves and curls smooth and bouncy.
Skin-I've recently started oil pulling. It's where you use essential oils, or coconut oil, to detox your skin from gross, acne causing oil, and replacing it with healthy skin-glowing oils! 
Shaving cream alternative: keeps your skin protected from sharp razors whilst moisturizing in the shower.
Also, lotion; nothing feels better than freshly shaven legs,slathered in coconut oil. This magical oil replenishes and moisturizes your skin. Great for severely dry and rough skin or skin conditions such as eczema and psoriasis, both of which I have. WOO ELEPHANT ELBOWS.
Teeth: Coconut oil is a natural antibiotic and helps prevent tooth decay. It improves the absorptions of calcium and magnesium, essential for strong bones and teeth.
cooking- great butter replacement (can I get an Amen vegans?!) Great for baking or sauteing veggies! NOM NOM
Health: It could aid in weight loss. Coconut oil is jam packed with "good" fats and can help you feel full whilst raising "good" cholesterol. It can ward off a cold; antibacterial, antimicrobial, and antiviral; helps boost immune system by improving white blood cell count, needed to fight off infections and viruses!

So head over to your local whole foods or sprouts and pick up a jar of this magical oil. I have a jar in every room of my house; bathroom for easy lather straight from the shower, kitchen for my nightly veggies, bedroom for.... obvious reasons (sorry if this is TMI mom lolz).

Namaste,
the 20-something old soul

To my fellow empaths & old souls

I wrote this for an in-class assignment in a Gender and Sexuality in Literature course I am taking this summer. We were prompted to write a story about ourselves... mine took more of a manifesto route: 

 

I am an empath. For many years I had no idea what an empath was.  All I know is that I felt things. Deep things. As a child I was called “overly sensitive” and a “crybaby” on a regular basis. I did not understand why I felt out of control regarding my emotions. Many times I would get angry, I was not sure how to describe my feelings, which was frustrating to say the least. I preferred reading and spending time alone than having a big group of friends. Giant sleepovers gave me anxiety. First of all, I loved my sleep. It was when my body, spirit, mind, soul and brain could rest and recharge from a day of absorbing everyone else’s energies. I had yet to discovering the incredibly healing and cleansing practice of yoga. So at the time, sleeping was my saving grace. So the idea of being surrounded by a bunch of overly dramatic, loud and sassy 12 year olds who were planning on staying up until 1 AM prank calling their crushes made me literally want to die. For several reasons; not only am I an empath, but also an old soul. I’ve never “felt my age”. I’ve always found it difficult to connect with my peers. In elementary school girls were obsessed with cute boys and dolls, I was more interested in animals and my trampoline. In Middle school I was annoyed beyond belief with pre-pubescent nonsense. It was not unusual for me to be left out or completely forgotten when it came to social gatherings. I was “too deep” and my friends just wanted to have fun. I had yet to meet other’s who enjoyed wine-induced conversations about the universe, God and where we came from.  At first it made me sad, but then I realized I’d rather spend my weekends with my mom, watching the Lion King with my brother and taking my dogs on a walk. High School was an extension of the immaturity of middle school, just add raging hormones and poor decisions. I did not understand why my friends were hiding vodka, stolen from their parent’s liquor cabinet, in a water bottle under their socks. I’d hear countless stories of my acquaintances sneaking out at night and meeting boys they “met” on myspace at a local playground to get high. What’s more was learning the most accurate sex ed I would ever hear at the time, from my friend at 15 in the girls locker room during gym class. For a while I’d get annoyed with myself. I could not understand why I was incapable of being a wreckless teenager and “living it up”.

As I crossed the stage at my college graduation 3 weeks ago and pondered the life I’ve led thus far, I would not have acted any differently. I do not regret opting for wine and Netflix nights as opposed to blackouts on Greek Row. I’ve never been more grateful for my empathetic old soul nature. It has inspired me to take my education further to Grad school, has pushed me to confront the society I live in and refuse to take part in “normal” aspects of American life. I am my own person. Spending so much time alone and giving myself the space to explore my interests and discover what I am passionate about has meant more than any prank call I could have made to my middle school crush. I am a self proclaimed loner, nerd, and tomboy. And although those identities may not be desirable to the average 20-something, I have accepted long time ago that I’m not your average 20-something.

Do what you want and don't give a damn<3

namaste,

The 20-something old soul

The most important study break you'll ever take

As I sit here trying to comprehend the encounter I just had, my news feed is bombarded with

"Stress is an understatement"

"Finals had me like..."

"T-minus 4 days until I'm free"

"Caffeine is my new multi-vitamin #finals"

And other similar feelings, complaints and exclamations regarding finals week, Canvas being shut down, the amount of adderall and coffee being consumed, and plain SAVE OUR SHIP requests.
And while, I share many of the same feelings as my fellow college students and future college grads are expressing,
I'm taking my study break to write about a man that I met today.
I'm writing about Jason White. 
I'd guesstimate he's in his early 30's/late 20's.
A father
A widower of 2 1/2 months after his wife was killed by a drunk driver
A veteran
A  terminal cancer patient
A soon to be homeless man wandering the streets of Salt Lake without any hope for not only his life but for his only son's future without either parents.

Now let me back up. 

I made a deal with myself a few years ago when I moved to Salt Lake that I would do my best to ask every homeless person I encountered if I could buy them food.
Tonight I took my deal to a whole new level.
What I thought would be a 10 minute side track of my night, buying a homeless man dinner for his son, turned into an indescribable and life changing experience. 
Tonight I conversed with Jason for 45 minutes, as passerbys stared blankly at me whizzing by in their Audi's, puzzled by my conversation with a homeless man outside of Zupas on 500 E.

Jason served our country for 4 years right out of high school to escape his Meth addicted mother who when learning of his terminal cancer replied with, "Good, Go die now."

Jason is a double major college grad.
He's talented with computer sciences and served in the Army on top secret intelligence jobs. Thus signing his life and identity away.

Fast Forward, post service;

His wife is killed.
He is diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer caused by his working conditions while serving his country.
He's sold everything he owned of value, including his car, to attempt at making a dent in his medical bills.
He has retained a lawyer to assist him in receive his benefits from the VA so he can continue chemotherapy and pay for his life-saving medication.
He is around $630 away from his final payment to his lawyer.
Meanwhile he is grieving the loss of his wife, attempting to explain to his son why mommy is not coming home, balancing the threshold between losing his house for good and the taking to the streets, and fighting for his life again.
This time without the support of his country and the government.
The country in which he risked and with soon be giving his life to, to keep safe...
Home of the Free because of the Brave.....

There is nothing patriotic about how Jason has been treated post service.
This is unacceptable.
As I handed him a piece of paper and pen to write down his personal information, he looked me dead in the yes and straight into my soul and asked,
"Why did you stop? You're the first person that has helped me all day..."
I promised him, I would not forget him, or his story.
I would do everything in my power to get him the help he so very much deserves.
I would tell his story.
I would give him a voice.
I would think about him everyday,
I would remember the image of his, tattered clothing, dirty hands, protruding collarbones and shiny, hairless head from chemo as it was burned into my memory.
I promised that I would give a fuck.
I saw a human being.
I saw his alligator tears escaping the corners of his eyes as he tried to hide his heartbreak.

As I drove away from this man, choking back the ever present tears rolling down my cheeks, I had never felt more heartbroken or at a loss.
At the same time, I thought about the realest conversation I have ever shared with a stranger.
I recognized the divine intervention that compelled me to not just drop the bag of food at his feet but to stop, ask him about his story,

Give him a voice.

So while the stress and chaos of finals and graduation are very real,
So is the sickening reality of this world. A world where a war veteran will die of terminal cancer, leaving his only son as an orphan,  because his community and government will not pull over and listen to a sickly man standing on a street corner holding a flimsy cardboard sign.
Please, check your privilege.
 Be grateful for the sleepless nights of studying and endless exam review guides.
And above all, give a fuck.
If you see a man standing at the corner of Zupas with a sign that says "sick with cancer, veteran, father. help"
Please, give your change, give your time, give your compassion.

Good Luck with exams.
Namaste,
The 20-something old soul

*I'm raising money for Jason White. If you are interested in helping me with this endeavor please contact me at brooke.pyper@yahoo.com*

Gratitude and Post grad life

it all just seems to surreal...
I met the love of my life,
I'm graduating college in a month,
I've been accepted into Language Corps where I'll spend a year starting January 2016, in Costa Rica teaching English.

And all the while all I can focus on is my tattoo, a delta, symbolizing Change...

"The only constant in life is change"

Is it ironic that I got this tattoo a little over a year ago and now the meaning behind it has never before been so applicable?

Maybe.

Maybe it's fate or destiny or whatever.
I feel like the luckiest girl in the world,
To be supported in the way I am.
My mother who was the first person I called when finding out about my acceptance into the program, cheering with excitement with my decision to go and promising me to help send my love for a visit.
My person, who was standing in the Smith's aisle perusing the vegetables for our dinner, who, with sad but hopeful eyes, told me how proud he is.

And that despite the long distance and the time apart, that I am his forever. 

That a year is not a big deal in relation to forever.
Telling me to spread my wings and follow my free spirited and independent heart.
It's the way my best friend and roommate squeezed me tight as I sobbed from both excitement, fear, anxiety and happiness regarding the news of my new adventure, followed by, "hello Spring Break 2016 in Costa Rica!"

These people, who love me so deeply, are who inspire me.
What I have learned?
More like, what haven't I learned..
Your family is not decided by shared DNA, They are the people who whole heartedly and unconditionally love you.
They trust you and your wild spirit. And they love you for it.
They will wait for you, and not make you feel guilty for pursuing your Dreams.
Because you are worth it and worthy of love.
And they know that you would do the same thing and more, for them.

"I think the universe is on my side,
 heaven and Earth have finally aligned. 
Life is good,
And that's the way it should be."

Be daring my darlings, This life is oh so good.
Sending so much gratitude to the Universe.
Namaste,
The 20-something old soul

period sea sponges and vegan feminism

If the title of this post did not scare you off,
congratulations.
Somewhere along the reality of being in my senior year of college, 16 credits of 5000+ level courses and being constantly confronted with the age old question of
"What are your plans post-grad?"I've taken a sort of leave of absence from the spewing of my thoughts and/or feelings via blogspot. I know, I've missed ya'll too.

But I can't help not to share the excitement I've experienced this last school year as I've witnessed my majors and personal goals, morals, values, etc converge.
It's definitely something when you are sitting in one of your all time favorite gender studies classes with THEE most inspiring professor/mentor/teacher that you've ever had (take masculinities with Meg Day and watch your life be forever changed in the best way possible) and that coveted lightbulb of "AH HAH! This is why I'm studying these things. My passion for activism is legitimate and desperately needed in this uber fucked up world... rad."

So I can't help but attribute many of the positive changes and ideas that have come of this past year to my education in Gender Studies and Sociology at the University of Utah.

They say knowledge is power for a reason folks.

As my personal life and education continues to become more and more intertwined, I notice common themes. In many of my classes this semester, it is set up as a discussion based learning environment, which is incredibly daunting as well as productive. Ask any of my fellow gender studies peeps, we're a rare breed turned into a precious family unit who've had the same classes since like sophomore year aka BFFS, that I make numerous connections between my feminism and my veganism.

For me, Veganism and feminism go together like pb&j, like the grilled pb&j I just snarfed down for dinner cuz I iz a po college student. 
My veganism has evolved along side my feminism and they constantly challenge and strengthen each other.
The goal of veganism is to eradicate the oppression, exploitation, rape and murder of non-human animals.
The goal of feminism is to eradicate the oppression, exploitation, rape, and violence against women whilst breaking down the patriarchal power structures in which these oppressions were created.

Sound similar? 

Cause they are.

I do not consume dairy products for the simple reason that in order to be produced, a female cow must be raped repeatedly and her offspring is either sent to slaughter or forced into the captivity of being a milk cow.
I am an activist and fight for animal rights because I whole heartedly believe in equal rights for non-human animals to have a safe, fulfilling life, without being used for mankind's pleasure.

I am a feminist because having a vagina does not and should not require me to give birth and/or be a housewife. I am a feminist because when the ever nearing day of "post grad" is my reality and I hopefully have my first big girl job, I deserve to be paid the equal amount to my male co-workers doing the same job.

In the end, we're fighting for rights. Rights for women, rights for animals, rights for LGBT and Queer folks.

I can't be a feminist without my veganism and I can't be vegan without my Feminism. 

So now onto the period sponge.
With all the debate over women's reproductive health, freedom, access etc,  Why there is even a debate between those with a uterus and those without IS BEYOND ME.., we have discussed the negative and down right outdated views on a women's menstrual cycle. Um hello, everyone came out of some woman's vagina... this is not a new phenomenon that women must bleed every month.

But nevertheless, some old white men think it is totally plausible for them to dictate my body and my decisions for my life. Get a new fucking hobby JEEZ.

What better example of this patriarchal society that we live in than the opinions of old geezers about women's reproductive health and 18 of the biggest companies that market solely to women, having  board of directors being comprised mainly, of men. Avon was the only company with a board consisting of more women than men.
You go Glenn Coco
Frankly, I could go on for days about this. Considering this is literally part of every conversation in every class of everyday.
But I am using this as way to publicize my challenge for myself. Being that I am a female and am blessed with the body type that COULD one day create life, I also menstruate. <---Someone should really look into the root of the word "menstruate", last time I checked, it is women who MENstruate.... Hey if Miley Cyrus can create words like twerking, can I rename Menstruation to Femstruation?
Sup ADD,
Back on track: I'm all about changing society's mindset and feelings on femstruation. I have discovered this magical item called the Holy Sponge, which is an eco-friendly, plant-based alternative to a tampon. This company in particular is dedicated in celebrating the woman's body and the ability to shed part of her body in which she did not use that month to create another life. I find this incredibly beautiful..

"Who cannot love herself cannot love anybody. Who is ashamed of her body is ashamed of all life;  Who finds dirt or filth in her body is lost."- Anne Cameron 

So I am taking the Holy Sponge cycle on for my next Femstruation.

I challenge you to join me, to look at your body with constant gratitude and love. To allow you to be exactly what and who you are. To ignore the pressures to be toned and tan and thin and perfectly shaven 100% of the time. To be nice and sweet and sing to your body when it aches with pains of being a woman. I am challenging myself and anyone else who cares to join me to love my womanhood, every single bit of it. Including and especially the monthly painful, messy, bloating "inconvenience".

Well, I sort of created a novel here. All in the hopes of avoiding my Social Statistics homework at all costs, (It's as miserable as it sounds).

Embrace your monthly femstruation.
Namaste,
The 20-something old soul