skinned knees // a story worth telling

 
A friend of mine recently told me about another friend of hers who has never skinned her knees.
 
Wait. What?
 
That was my response to this fact.
 
Let me give you a little background...
 
Two weeks before Ashley's wedding, I was running on campus at IU and tripped. I slid not just on my knees, but on my shins - skinning the entire front half of both legs.
 
The morning of Ashley's wedding we did a spin class, and I somehow managed to fall off the bike - feet still hooked in - further scraping up my legs.
 
By the time the ceremony rolled around, my legs were akin to a five year old's - and the dresses were short. Fortunately, Ashley was such a stunning bride that ain't nobody was looking at these legs.
 
But the thought of never having skinned a knee is basically incomprehensible to me, as someone who still, at age 26, needs a bandaid from time to time. I wanted to ask my friend 1,000 questions: Did she not play outside when she was little? Is she more careful than me? Did she never learn to ride a bike? To roller blade? Did she never have one too many glasses of wine? Does she not have brothers? So her legs are like, perfect? Scar free?
 
 
I didn't get to ask these questions, as I've never met this sweet, careful girl. But it did get me thinking about our experiences and how they shape us into who we are. And I think there's something to be said for those times when we're running so fast we trip - when we're too passionate to care about the consequences. When we know we probably shouldn't dive in with such fervor, for fear we might get hurt. When we're thrilled and willing to go all in - never thinking about what it will feel like when we hit the bottom.
 
I had sushi with my friend, Casey, last night and she said: Whitney, if you're not working at it, is it really working?
 
Things that come easily - skinned knee free - they're pleasant, yes. But when we're really working at it and pushing through the hard times in life, when we aren't afraid of how hard we could fall - isn't that what makes us grow, and what makes this life worthwhile?
 
 
I don't often err on the careful side of life. I like a plan and a tactical approach to things, yes. But I'm typically pretty willing to dive right in. And maybe that's led to a life of some seriously scarred knees. But I'd like to think even the deepest of scars are telling a story, and that I'll laugh at the way I looked pitiful on the altar at Ashley's wedding - or the way that thing didn't quite pan out.
 
Because in the end, if we're not living a story that's worth telling, are we really living a story worth writing at all?
 

for your next coffee break...

 
 
There are certain words that really ick me out. Moist being one of them. I don't even know why I typed it. It's gross.

Another word that weirds me out to no end is belly. I'm not sure what it is about it, but it makes me feel uncomfortable and I never say it out loud because it's gross and why wouldn't you say stomach?
 
That is, until last week, when Katie and I went to Belly General Store in the Highlands. It's only the cutest coffee shop ever!
 
 
It's happy and soothing, which is, coincidentally, exactly how the coffee tastes, too. The entire experience is perfect for a breakfast date before work – just enough but not too much.
 
 
Being a block from my house, I fear it may quickly become a habit.
 
Especially because Belly coffee is just want my stomach wants.
 
(Yep - stomach. See how I did that?)
 
You should most certainly add it to your ATL breakfast list.
 
Happy Bellying all!
 

on figuring it out



I was recently at a party where I was talking to an acquaintance who is easily one of the more upbeat people I know. She's highly optimistic and positive, but as we were talking about all of our friends getting engaged this winter, she (half) jokingly said, "I'm 25 and am still in school and live in a tiny apartment and am single and drive the same car I drove in high school. What do I have to show for myself since college?"

And it shocked me because I wanted to say: well, you have almost four years of med school under your belt and will be a doctor in a few months and have new friends and a fun life in Atlanta and are super great...

But  I didn't say that. Because I get it. Completely.

This life is amazing. Yes. Being in your 20s is fun - it's like college all grown up, but you actually have a handle on things (most of the time).
But no matter how amazing it is, there is this constant feeling of looking around to see how you stack up against everyone else. Yes, she is about to be a doctor and move to a new city for her residency, where she will make even more friends and finally start making money. By all technical standards, that's pretty legit.

But it's so easy to let the things that are missing feel like gaping holes - holes that make us less worthy, like we aren't as far along as our friends who don't seem to have as many have nots.


I was talking to another friend a few days ago who is going through a break up. On a particularly rough day, she said: I just feel like there has to be more to this life. Like this can't be it.

And I think that's how a lot of us ending up feeling sometimes. Day to day, life is fulfilling, but every now and then, when we slow down, it's easy to feel a little tired. Like there must be just one more thing that is going to fall into place, and then it will all make sense.

But the more I sit on it, the more I think that it might be a product of the 20s. It's like this perfect decade where you start to figure life out and grow into budgeting and cooking and all of these skills that carry you into adulthood. It's doing your taxes and saying things like: I feel like a grown up! It's making new friends that are different than you - because they have a different background and have never seen an Indiana cornfield.

But it's also this challenging time where you sometimes want what other people have - the relationship or the slightly more swanky apartment or the wherewithall that makes you wonder if someone is actually a 34-year-old masquerading as a 26-year-old, because can anyone our age really have it that together?



It's highs and lows and craziness that, I think, we'll someday look back on and laugh at. We'll wonder how we ever made that mistake at work or cared about that kind of car or thought that guy could have possibly been the one. We'll laugh because we lived with rats and moved all the time, and all around had no idea what we were doing.

But all in all, it's a beautiful time, where we're growing into our sea legs and figuring out exactly who were are. Even if we're in little apartments and nine times out of 10 have no clue what we're doing. Because we're figuring it out, and every day, we're one step closer to having it together. And, at the very least, until we get it together, we know we're in it together. And that's pretty wonderful. 

weekends // possiblity // happiness

I absolutely love traveling, but there is something to be said for wide open weekends in Atlanta. I love they way they fall into place, making me fall even more in love with this city. The way they're so full of possibility and adventure. 

Friday, some friends and I celebrated the very prestigious National Margarita Day. It obviously couldn't go uncelebrated. 

Saturday, I went to an insanely hard workout class, Katie Gold's birthday brunch, where I tried lox for the first time (so tasty!), met my friend Christina's sweet new baby boy, went to drinks with friends, and had dinner and an excellent convo with Abby.

Sunday, I went to church and lunch with friends, went for a run, got coffee in the park with Ben, and enjoyed the amazing weather a la drinks on our porch with friends. 
It was a weekend full of tiny events and happy friends that fully reminded me that spring is just around the corner. And there are few things that are as wonderful as spring in this city. 

I hope your weekend was fun and happy, too!

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