25 Lessons I've Learned at 25

Three years ago, I sat at a desk in a hotel group sales office in Asheville, North Carolina and wrote a list of 22 lessons I had learned at 22.  I was young.  I was fresh into the world of post-grad life.  I was enthusiastic.  And, in that moment, I unknowingly began what was to become a bit of an annual tradition.

The writing of "23" took place on a sunny, spring day on my parents' porch in rural Vermont and "24" took place at a desk on the other side of the world in Siem Reap, Cambodia where I was living (and sweating) at the time.

With just over a fortnight to go before my 26th birthday, I decided it was time to starting thinking of my "25 Lessons".

First, I decided to take a walk down memory lane as I re-read all of the "lessons I have learned" over the course of the last three years.  There were a few repeats, a lot of yoga references, a lot of tequila wisdom, and I won't lie, there were a few lessons that were more than worthy of a dramatic eye-roll.

It was also kind of sweet in a way to look back and remember how various tidbits reflected different things that were going on in my life as I was writing those lists and there were certainly a few moments that had me saying to myself - "Shit, I really should have taken my own advice on that one."

As lists are so regimented and as I have far, far too many different lists in my head, on my phone, and in various journals lying around my apartment at the moment (hello, chaos old friend), I've decided to take a different spin on "25" and approach it more as a reflection on the last year of my life rather than a list of 25 goofy, half-true lessons I've learned.  Maybe there will be 25 lessons woven in, maybe not.

But I digress.

Upon re-reading "24", I couldn't help but linger for a moment on my final words:

"You are the only person that can create change in your life.  Create it.  Change is good."

I think, at the time, I was referencing moving to foreign countries, having life-changing experiences, and I think (a little bit) I was trying to convince myself of something (but I won't get into that here).

The funny thing is that I don't really feel like I did much to create those changes.

Sure, I decided to move to Turkey.

Sure, I bought plane tickets.

But, aside from those very direct decisions, purchases, and actions, I was really at the mercy of the situations around me and I let those circumstances sweep me along until I reached a point where I felt totally adrift in the world.  I felt alone, disconnected, and totally lost.

So, I came home.

And ironically, coming back to the house I grew up in and opening my noisy bedroom door and hugging my family and walking my dog down Chelsea Road and driving on Eagle Hollow and eating my Mom's salsa was the catalyst for the change that I actually needed.

And I was able to start to take control of my life again.

I'm definitely not trying to say that everything is hunky-dory and perfect.  Of course it's not. 

I am a human being and the world is a really fucked up place.

But I've been laughing a lot more. 

And I've been doing a lot more of the things that I really love to do.

And I think there's something to be said for that...

And sometimes I feel like, in such a fucked up world, I'm able to find some solace in taking control of my life and who I am and taking steps towards making myself a better person (whatever that may mean).

Anyway, I'm pretty sure that this has all been a massively boring overshare.

But these are thoughts (lessons, if you will) that have been drifting around in my head for the last couple of months and it's been really therapeutic to put them into words.

So thank you to anyone who stuck with this one through to the finish, y'all are the REALEST and *hopefully* this is the beginning of me posting more than bi-annually (if I keep saying it, then it will happen, right?).

For the sake of tradition, I'll close with two distinct lessons that I have learned -

One being not to regret things and to find value in all of your experiences.

The second being that drinking half a bottle of wine and two vodka martinis the night before you open at 6:30am is still a terrible idea at *nearly* 26.

There are some things that you can change and some things that just probably never will.  

Lots of love.

-K

But first, Coffee.

The main issue I have with maintaining a blog is... just that - the maintenance thing.

I really only like to post new pieces when something truly inspires me and, while I have been doing lots of interesting things since August, nothing has really sparked that inspiration that I have been looking for.

My mother's friends are so encouraging: "we love your blog!" "we want to hear about your travels!"

And while, I know it seems like writing about my experiences abroad would make for a much more interesting reading experience, the last thing that I want is for this to turn into another generic travel blog.

So instead of writing about studying yoga in India or climbing Table Mountain, I'm going to write about another topic, one that often leads to some of my best ideas: Coffee.

Since I've been back in the states, I have been picking up some work teaching yoga and to supplement my yoga income, I've been working a few days a week as a barista at a local coffee shop.

Spending three days a week surrounded by coffee and fellow coffee-lovers has, no doubt, influenced this emergence of mine back into the blogging world.

I love coffee.

It goes right up there on my list of top 5 favorite things, tying with theatre for a close 4th place behind my family and friends, my dog, and yoga.

There is absolutely nothing else in this world that compares to that first cup of coffee in the morning.

Rolling out of bed, sleepy-eyed and groggy, and making your way to the coffee pot (or french-press if you're fancy), grinding the beans, pouring the water, listening to that percolaaaation, and then finally taking your first sip of scalding hot, ass-kicking, perk-up, nectar of the gods.  (This is a silent call to all my fellow dark roast lovers, you all know what. is. up.)

Call it caffeine dependency, call it placebo effect, call it what you want.  I'll call it my own personal slice of heaven.

I love my mornings, and my mornings would not be the same without coffee.

I also think you can tell a lot about a person by their coffee order.  Which people are in it for the coffee vs. which people are just in it for the caffeine.  Which people drink their coffee black, which add cream, which add cream and sugar.

I admire the people that order their coffee to go: they mean business.  But I have an equal amount of admiration (if not more) for those that sit and take the time to enjoy their coffee, whether alone or with a friend.

Drinking your coffee black gives you an edge.

Drinking your coffee with almond, coconut, or soy milk shows that you're making a conscious effort to maintain a healthy lifestyle, despite the caffeine intake.  Either that, or you're lactose-intolerant.  Or vegan...

You get the occasional super-human tea-drinkers.

And those that drink their coffee with whole milk, half and half, or cream are shameless. And, damn it, they know what tastes good.

Just don't get me started on decaf drinkers.

**please hold while I go get a refill**

I am experiencing pure bliss at the moment.  Sitting outside in the sun (with a double americano), people-watching, and enjoying the 52 degree day after several months of long, cold Vermont winter.

I like the way that the enjoyment of coffee can be fluid.

E.g. I enjoy my coffee alone or with people, I enjoy my coffee in my travel mug on my way to work and I enjoy my coffee in a ceramic mug, sitting on my front porch or at the kitchen table.  Sometimes I just want straight black coffee, sometimes I want a triple-shot mocha - and I enjoy both equally.

Coffee is coffee is coffee.

Or something poetic like that.

Being a barista is easily the best food service job that I have ever had.

I'm not entirely sure why I enjoy it so much, but I think it has a lot to do with coffee-culture and the bond that coffee-drinkers share.  (I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm being 95% serious and 5% ironic.)

It's like this silent acknowledgement, this mutual understanding - "Oh, coffee helps you through the day too? Great."

We all have our vices.

I like being the person that can provide that vice for people.

I do it with a smile and a nod and then proceed back behind the counter to drink some coffee of my own.

And I'm sorry if reading this post was a waste of your time.

But like I said, I love coffee.

Have a great weekend and thank you, as always, for reading.