It's because this one is going to be pretty lame. Promise.

Dear Patrick,

I have had a rather underwhelming life as of late. I'd like to tell you funny stories and strange musings from my days, but alas, I'm behaving normally and boringly. Please don't misunderstand, I like boring. I like consistency, repetition and the Gap. I once won a "Who is the most boring contest" in which my best friend and boyfriend-of-the-moment both voted whole-heartedly for me. I like my full time schedule. I like my 30 minute daily commute. I love my weekly FHE that sticks firmly to the routine of frozen yogurt for dinner, then dessert (dinner) and Gilmore Girls (or the occasional 80s movie substitute).

I like plans. I've always had a plan for my life for as long as I can remember. Short-term plans. Long-term plans. All shapes and colors and sizes of plans. Plans of what I wanted to do, plans of what I wanted to have, plans of where I would be... And even though these plans change about as often as I change clothes, plans are my security blanket. When I moved back from North Carolina, I had such a sparkly new plan for my life. I was going to get a great new job, move quickly to Salt Lake, and at the end of the summer, pack up my things again and head off to a new and great adventure called grad school in a shiny new place where I'd never before lived and I'd start planning all over again. Just about as soon as I arrived back in this great state of Utah, I set off to accomplish these plans- applying to grad school and applying to all the jobs I could find. In February, the plans I had been nurturing for the past four years came to a crashing halt as I opened rejection letter after rejection letter from each school I had applied to. And to multiply and divide matters further, the economy was proving to be an enemy to the unemployed and I was also being rejected from multiple jobs on a daily basis. And that, in turn, made it more and more impossible to ever leave the nest. I was a mess. That's an understatement. More details: I found comfort in my stripey leggings and a super soft hoodie. I started watching Rachael Ray, which I admit is both bogus and sad. My mother got used to being greeted from the couch as she returned home at the end of each day. I was wishing I had never graduated. I felt like I had faked my way through my undergrad and the portfolio I had to show for it was a joke. I was hopeless heap of unwashed human.

It was at this point I knew something needed to change. It's really tiring feeling sorry for yourself all the time. I needed to find what was most important. I needed to make things. I needed a reason to get off the couch. I made a tiny one month plan. I figured I could probably accomplish things if I didn't make the goal very far away. And it worked. Since then, things have begun to turn around. I have that job that fits me like a glove. But like a glove that fits. Not like most gloves I've owned. I got into the Spring Salon at Springville Art Museum with my teeny tiny tank top print. I'm making things again. They might only be shrinky dinks and bags, but that's a pretty solid step in the right direction. I'm lucky to have the mother I have. I'm lucky to have a great place to live while I figure out everything else. And, I still have the funniest cat in the world.

So, today I plan for today. And that seems to work pretty well.

Serious post. Barf.

Love, Adrienne