Analysis

I've been in mourning for the past few weeks, because life has really sucked. A myriad of things have made it so, and I've let the despair of it degenerate me into someone nearly unrecognizable from the passionate, over-involved girl who left Cedar City two months ago.

The conclusion that I've come to (that I am still trying to come to grips with) is that life is made up of the little things. I keep waiting and hoping for some big, miraculous something to happen. I keep expecting life to get better, for something to happen to make it so. But that's not what life is about. Getting the best job in the universe, getting married, getting into grad school--these are things that happen only in the rarest of circumstances, and though they do change your life completely, they take you on a path you're already on. So in order for them to happen and make you happy, you already have to be on the path.

Life is in the little things. It's in the evenings with friends, it's in the little triumphs at work, its in the good books or movies, its in the simple sensation of a good life. It's in the good meals cooked, its in the time spent. It's in the hobbies. It's in the pictures taken. It's in the people, the places, the sights and the smells and the random adventures at nine o'clock at night or two in the morning. Its the little things.

I've heard it before. I think I've even said it before. I'm still working on accepting it. My life in college was made up of big things--shows, mostly--that were all-consuming for more than just me. So scaling back my life to these little things to find meaning is hard. It's hard to brag about the pizza you made last night when your friends and family expect 'great' things from you. It's hard to live life with--apparently--nothing to show for it. So I have to accept the value of these little things before I can be at peace with life--but I think that once I do, I will be content.