Dallas does...Hours 4-12

If a word is uttered in a forest with no one around to hear it, does it still count as speaking?

Forgive me for my early morning philosophy, I'm just getting a kick out of the fact that I can't stop muttering things to myself, or, in the case of my shower this morning, singing "Que Sera, Sera" until I realized that I was ruining the silence.

To be fair, most of these last 8 hours were spent sleeping, so they were easily the most relaxing part of the vow so far. The only frustration I have is that I was unable to drag my lazy body out of bed for some morning reflection, and therefore only had time for my regular routine, as well as some last minute homework edits.

I'm not particularly nervous about the day ahead, though I realize that a small sign reading: "Caution- Remain Quiet" is probably necessary, because who knows who I'll run into and what stories they will wish to share.

My goal is just to keep a low profile and be the type of student I was never very good at being: a quiet one. My arm is going to get a break from its regular workout of raising repeatedly to answer questions.

Oh my! I almost forgot the most comical event of my silence so far. I actually had a nightmare about cheating. I had created some kind of excuse for my dream self to require a visit to Facebook and started responding to wall posts before I realized that all of my responses would be coming from within the time period of my silence and therefore marking me as a cheater! This dream does not stray far from my common thread of dream in which I carry on textual conversations with people and am disappointed to find, upon waking, that it was all in my head.

So, there you have it. I'm a third of the way through my vow and my only complaint is that it's infiltrating my REM sleep and giving me a sudden affinity for Broadway tunes.

But now it's time to take this show on the road...well, the sidewalk to campus.

Peace, love and sleepy silence,

Kels.

Dallas does...Hours 1-3

The silence is upon us, ladies and gentlemen.

Alright, it's mostly just upon me, since I'm the crazy kid who decided to take on the challenge of my Living Religions of the East professor and observe the austerity of silence for the next 36 hours.

The jury's still out on whether or not blogging is a form of cheating, but I don't consider this a complete act of communication until I post a link to Facebook...so I'll just go on putting my thoughts down while I'm having them and worry about the fine print later.

I didn't decide until Tuesday night that I was going to for sure give this project a go. I never thought it was impossible, but the logistics of the thing freaked me out. Would I sound like a brat if I said that on many days of the year I truly can't avoid talking?

It's true! My generation is built around communication. Even the failure to have an unlimited texting plan for your cell phone can make you akin to a social hermit.

Facebook, email, text messages- they're the way we stay in touch with each other (or, to be more blunt, the way we stalk each other). And the thought of going without all these things was enough to put me in quite a panic in the hours leading up to 8:00 p.m. this evening.

I'm the type of person who couldn't even stand to stay home from school for a day because I would miss too much of the hot gossip. I live in fear of being on the outskirts of an important news update (even if it's just that one of my best friends got a haircut) and I guess that's why so many people tell me that I'd make a great journalist. Consequently, it's also why I rarely miss an update to my Facebook newsfeed. It's almost pathetic how well-informed I am about other people's lives.

And I'm pretty sure it was this potential patheticism that inspired me to welcome this silence into my life. I spend so many hours of the day reading and talking about other people's lives that I forget to put valuable time into examining what's happening to me...unless it's to shape it into a clever status that will garner plenty of "likes" from my friends.

It was this very same problem that plagued me with guilt this summer. Even in the midst of the most amazing experience of my young life, I still spent more hours of my life engaged in social media than I dare admit. Where was the me time? Where was the peace that I promised myself when I was reading and rereading text messages trying to determine what the person on the other end of the cell tower could possibly have meant?

The goal of a vow of silence for "world-renouncers" in the Hindu tradition is to build up inner power, or heat. Austerities build up heat that can release you from the cycle of rebirth and into the higher level of being.

And as far from my Presbyterian upbringing as that sounds, it actually makes a lot of sense to me. Silence is inward. It forces you to remain within your own mind. To be fully in tune with yourself. (Comically, the only slip-ups I have had so far were to comment on things out loud to myself.)

The forms of communication I have left behind pull me outward. They stretch out my consciousness to include discussions of the bachelorhood of a poet that hit on Rebecca's friend or the likelihood that Nadal will be able to take down Djokovic in tomorrow's final.

"Kelsey" ceases to be one person living one life. She becomes a negotiator of many lives, advising Brittany about her long-distance love while simultaneously watching a movie with her mom. Making weekend plans with Andrew while catching-up with Beth. The energy she has to put into her own thoughts is splayed out over a thousand different conversations as she copies and pastes the advice of others into her own decision-making.

Silence is about being forced to live within yourself. To come to terms with only your own advice. To get to know what is truly best for you.

I find nothing essentially wrong with the over-communication of my generation...it's just dangerous. And these 36 hours are about collecting the pieces of my consciousness that I've been spreading throughout the tri-state area.

It's going well so far. Even though I feel somewhat like stories are fighting to get out of me like air always did during holding-your-breath contests at the Kasa's pool, I'm generally calm. I've dominated an essay for Virginia Woolf class and a Vocabulary practice test for the GRE. I'm getting to bed early so that I can wake-up for a run and some me-time.

I feel the pieces of myself finding their way back...and I almost want to scream out in joy. But that, of course, would be cheating. ;)

Peace, love and perfect silence,

Kels.

Dallas does...This is the Year

Hello bloggernation, I've come crawling back to you again on my knees, asking for forgiveness.

More unforgivable than my habit of wearing leggings as pants is the complete lack of blogging I did about my summer experiences while they were happening.

Sometimes it feels like it was all too much. Too much to process while I was in it. Too much to even understand now as I sink into the routine of Iowa City.

Too much and yet not enough.

I don't know if I have enough memories to last me through a semester that is more stressful than I ever imagined a Senior year could be. Enough faith in everything I learned to stop me from taking the easy way out. Enough trust in the new understanding I have of myself to keep from making decisions that lead me down the same dusty, not-right-for-me roads.

I do know this: I'm a different person now. I carry myself differently. I find beauty in different pieces of my life.

And yet there's so many things I wish I'd more successfully left behind.

My anxiety about the future. My nagging perfectionism. My obsessive over-analyzing.

And my habit of leaving so many of my important thoughts trapped in my mind while I jabber day in and day out about the never-ending dramas of being a single, college-aged female.

For over a year I have loved this blog.

I have loved that it was my perfect medium for sharing my thoughts with the world, and letting people share in my lessons of love.

But I think maybe that love chapter needs to be put aside for now. Love is a subject of which I'm a perpetual student, but maybe writing about it and talking about it need to stop being my go-to methods of dealing with it.

How about living it?

Living it and leaving these pages for other lessons. Lessons of beauty and lessons of friendship. Lessons of self-worth and lessons of faith.

I can't begin to put into words what Colorado has done for me. But I think I owe it to myself to try to write about it. To move forward with more important discoveries than what bold move will be the final step in wooing the boy I like.

Love is something I've driven myself crazy trying to figure out. And all my countless conversations about it have just turned me into the sappy, confused mess I am today.

What I need to figure out is how to maintain that endless happiness I left Colorado with. And how to continue in my belief that life is beautiful no matter how imperfect it can get in day-to-day living.

So, from now on, the love doctor is out.

And these pages are for all of me. A discussion of my life as Kelsey Dallas, a senior at the University of Iowa, navigating the ridiculous world of a triple major, maintaining a semblance of a social life accompanied by mounds of homework.

So, here I am again, promising to use my words for good and not for evil. To move forward and not to stall on love's precepts that will all be changed by the right person, anyway.

I hope you enjoy this change of pace alongside me. And realize that a new outlook can be just the ticket to happily ever after.

Love, Kelsey

"Make Yourself Proud"

Dallas does...tank top weather

Introducing...an amazing song written by the beautiful Haylie Schroeder based on a concept we discussed! I'm freaking out! It's soooo good.

Mmm, summer, come.

The warm air pushes through the trees
Oh, how they rustle, like my hand in the pocket of my jeans
I can't stand still knowing how you look at me
Knowing just the way you've got me feeling sixteen

But years have passed, and I like to think
Oh, I'm not this naive, won't let myself get caught up in these childish dreams
But sometimes growing old ain't quite the same as growing up
And at twenty-one, I'm just beginning to learn when to stay and when to run

So maybe I'm young and a little bit over my head over heels
But the sun is getting closer, and we're getting older
And the heat of the moment has tangled me up
But I mean it this time; enough is enough
I'd wear my heart on my sleeve
But darling, it's tank top weather

I've walked this path a thousand times
Oh, watching love grow out of control, causing helpless hearts to die
Weeds overtake the gardens, while the willows weep at lovers parting
I'm guilty of the charges, showing off my heart, unguarded

So, maybe I'm young and a little bit over my head over heels
But the sun is getting closer, and we're getting older
And the heat of the moment has tangled me up
But I mean it this time; enough is enough
I'd wear my heart on my sleeve
But darling, it's tank top weather

Summer come, and help me to fight, help me to hide
Summer come, and keep me alive, keep me alive
Summer, remind me to show my heart to no one
Summer, come. Summer, come

So, maybe I'm young and a little bit over my head over heels
But the sun is getting closer, and we're getting older
And the heat of the moment has tangled me up
But I mean it this time; enough is enough
I'd wear my heart on my sleeve

O, but darling, I'm young, and a little bit over my head over heels
But the sun is getting closer, and we're getting older
And the heat of the moment has tangled me up
But I mean it this time; enough is enough
I'd wear my heart on my sleeve
But darling, it's tank top weather

Dallas does...moronism.

A very famous television doctor once said, "Pick me. Choose me. Love me," as she stared pleadingly into the eyes of her gorgeous, but taken, Dr. McDreamy.
In just six words (granted, they formed 3 sentences) Meredith Grey was able to say exactly what we're all thinking the minute we realize we like someone enough for them to hurt us: Please don't break my heart.
If we're all looking for love, then why does one person always end up doing the pleading?
Moms across the world would say that it's because we all mature at different rates. The person you're meant to end up with is the person who will finally be on the same page as you.
Many of the world's women would scowl and proclaim that hearts get broken because of the proclivity of douchebaggery in the men of planet Earth.
And insulted men could counter with an idea I've heard more times than I wish to count: Women are just plain crazy.
So what's the answer? How does love become so one-sided?
Well my friends, I'll tell you my own best guess at the answer: It's because love makes us morons.
Morons who stop being able to rationalize in the realm of reality because we've caught the 6 o'clock train to LoveLand (pun intended). Morons who can't hear the same advice they've given to friends dozens of times because their ears are clogged with cotton candy and rainbows and those absurdly cartoonish cupids shooting heart arrows.
And as my favorite author J.D. Salinger says, "All morons hate it when you call them a moron."
We let ourselves be morons because we've already used the plot of every romantic comedy we've ever seen to plot a course where this runaway train of a relationship is going to get back on course in time for the happy ending.
And I my friends, am one hopeless case of moronism.
My guy friend likes to call my heart the "best and worst" part of who I am.
It's the best because I'll love you forever with a fervor usually lost with baby teeth.
And the worst because I'll love you forever with a fervor usually lost with baby teeth...even when anyone in their right mind would have given up hope.
Hope that you'll be wooed into being the version of you that my imagination has dreamed up.
I trick myself into the loving the version of people I know they could be if I just waited a little longer, wiped away a few more tears, crafted a few more perfect phrases.
And so I drive myself crazy with the wait, positive that this time, I'm actually going to be right.
Now, I have been right sometimes. Enough times to prove that maybe my own special kind of heart disease isn't so bad.
But I still wish that, for once, I could watch that episode of Grey's Anatomy and see myself in Derek Shepherd's shoes. See myself as the one making the decision, instead of the one doing the pleading.
Lucky for me, when God gave me my extra special enlarged heart, he also threw in a heaping spoonful of optimism.
You see, I don't picture myself successfully overcoming my moronic ways anytime soon, but I do believe that there comes a time when all of us will find a person that will match us side for side.
And it's that belief that helps me smile when I read the phrase, "Hearts are made to be broken."
Because, in the end, I have enough heart to go around. And enough optimism to put together the pieces when it does get broken.
And so my gentle readers, tonight I wish for you a life filled with the perfect moronism that leads to a whoppingly huge broken heart. And the faith that you'll need to pull yourself together to try again.

Love, Kels

Dallas does...catch me if you can.

The thing about birthdays is...they mark the perfect time to think about life. Where it's taken you and where you're headed.

Yes, even on this 21st birthday, with many more (liquid) things on my mind than life goals, I found myself returning again and again to the idea that over two decades of my life have already flown by, and I'm really just getting started.

My friends like to tease me about my need to overthink everything, saying that it's ridiculous to worry because, "In the end, you're Kelsey Dallas, and everything will be okay."

Everything will be okay.

This mantra's gotten quite the workout this year, guiding me through the deaths of two grandparents, tough situations amongst family and friends and continuous fears about what my rapidly approaching "adult life" has in store for me.

And maybe, just maybe, I'm finally starting to be convinced of its truth.

When I was 17 years old, I began the difficult task of choosing a college. Luckily for me, the University of Iowa plopped itself in my lap with a hefty scholarship offer, and the answer was too obvious to ignore.

And even that decision came with some heart-wrenching side effects, as I spent several of those 3-hour drives from Lincoln to Iowa City my freshman year drowning in homesickness.

But never once did I stop believing that I had done the right thing for me. Because somewhere in the mess that I like to call a "lovable personality," lies what I consider my strongest asset: vision.

I see myself doing something, becoming someone, succeeding somewhere, and I make it happen. I may sob with fear the night before I start each new adventure, but I never let myself think that I've done something wrong by choosing to take on a challenge.

That was true during the horrifying moment that my parents left me by the curb at my freshman dorm and still true as I lie here with tears in my eyes preparing to leave for my wild summer job.

Voicing how panicked I am about my upcoming summer, several people have reached out to me to let me know how positive they are that this job is right for me. That there's something amazing in the potential this summer holds to change my life.

And I have to agree with them. Staring down all of my fears, I am confident that there's many beautiful things on the horizon, no matter how uncertain it all seems right now.

Uncertainty: the evil twin sister of my beloved vision.

I make myself sick thinking of all that can go wrong between Point A and Point B.

But somehow, on this third day of my 21st year of life, I've discovered a little voice in my heart that's telling me that everything really is going to be okay.

...Though I'm not sure how I can trust the voice that's probably also responsible for my ridiculous (and unrelenting) belief in true romance.

Nevertheless, today I'm making a commitment to keep following that vision.

We can call it my birthday present to myself. In what will become the most pivotal year of my young life, I promise to keep being that person who doesn't settle for what's safe, and chases after the dreams that keep me awake at night.

Like everyone, all I really want is to be happy. And I think I've finally realized that what makes me happy is never holding still while all the best parts of life come to find me. I want to throw myself at them screaming "Pick me!"

And so hear I sit. Still teary-eyed and (thankfully) still at the very beginning of my 21st year.

I've already written so much about who I want to become this next year. Someone who has fun without having a list of consequences cycling threw her mind, someone who can fall in love with reckless abandon just because it feels so much better than trying to control every little detail.

But I guess all I really want to be is true to myself. True to the Kelsey who has gotten me this far. True to that little voice that's tugging me away from my comfort zone into lands unknown.

I don't want to...and I can't...let myself stand still.

Peace, love and growing pains,

Kels.

"And I'm not the girl that I intend to be. But I dare you darlin' just you wait and see. But this time not for you, but just for me."

Dallas does...the camp counselor crush.

"Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.
So make the best of this test and don't ask why.
It's not a question but a lesson learned in time."

Before you go assuming that I've employed this epic Green Day song as a lead-in to the inevitable birthday blog that will come this week, let me assure you that I'm using it to convey a very different sort of message.
You see, this Green Day song, besides being an amazing throwback to the days of music before the Ke$has and Gagas, holds a very, very special place in my heart due to a certain camp counselor named Sean.
Sean was the resident dreamboat during one of my weeks as an East Bay camper almost a decade ago and remains in my mind a perfect specimen of a crush that every young girl must have: the summer camp crush. He sat center stage on talent show night and belted this song, creating an image that remains burned in my brain to this day.
Blonde, tanned and tone, Sean was exactly the man my 12-year-old self wanted to spend the rest of her life with, but, alas, these things never do seem to work out, do they? Pesky counselor-camper regulations...just kidding. ;)
What makes me laugh every time I hear this song is that never once did my young self question the fact that with Sean I would find absolute happiness. It seemed so clear. He had a guitar, a great voice, and I would be the envy of every other girl in the cabin. What more was there to ask for?
Well, quite a bit, actually, but that younger version of myself couldn't concern herself with the little details. For her, it was enough to see his big blue eyes glance toward the general vicinity of my fifth row bench seat.
The 12-year-old me had little business deciding anything more than what I would wear each day (and even that's debatable). But decide she did and these choices stick with me even to this day, as evidenced by the slight blush that reddens my cheeks whenever this tune comes on a radio station.
So the real question is, do these decisions really become "lessons learned in time"? Will I ever stop asking myself "Why, oh why, did you do that?"
The answer to this great debate remains impossibly negative, as I continue to be someone who shrugs off the same advice she happily doles out to others.
If life lessons were graded on a 4.0-scale, my gpa would be woefully lower than the one next to my name on my University of Iowa report card.
I talk a big game in these blog posts, but the fact is, I've never really left behind that little girl on a wooden bench who believed that just thinking about something makes it true.
A friend told me this week that I treat love like a monkey treats a Rubik's cube- examining it from every angle, determined to understand it.
Aside from the slight disturbance that comes from any simile linking me and an ape, I winced at the idea that just like anyone simply holding a Rubik's cube is missing the point of spinning the different pieces, I'm missing the entire point of love by just sitting on a couch discussing it.
I'm perfectly happy counseling friends through their romantic dramas (and for some, it should be a paying gig) but when it comes to me, I'm painfully afraid of making the leap from initial thoughts of "Oh, gee, Sean sure is cute" to "Hey Sean, wanna share my bug spray at the lake this afternoon?"
If I'm spending all this time crafting the perfect answers, why do I never force myself to take the tests?
So for my class of one, my assignment this summer is to stop staying in with my books and movies, and get out for some field experience.
Because I think we're all getting a little sick of my rom-com references.
Maybe Green Day was really on to something when they said,
"It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right.
I hope you had the time of your life."
Love isn't something you chart on graph paper, it's something you live and learn from.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to unpredictability.
It's time I had the time of my life.

Peace, love and pocket watches,
Kels.

"It's a risk to love. What if it doesn't work out. Ah, but what if it does?"