A month later, I was in the ER at 2 AM on a Sunday night / Monday morning with my roommate because I had stressed myself out to the point where heartburn from a Ruffles All Dressed potato chip had felt a bit too much like a heart attack.

It was a quick three-week lesson in the importance of self-care. As it turns out, staying up to 2AM 2-3 days a week to watch and write about basketball games can create a lot of stress. And so, in tears at age 27, I talked with my mom and dad on a phone about whether I was experiencing heartburn or a heart attack for 45 minutes, along with the fine print of my healthcare coverage. And then I had a similar conversation with my boss, a doctor, just minutes later, debating if it was best to take the CTA, request an Uber, or ask my friend with a car. And then again a third similar conversation with my friend with a car. And one final conversation with a kind doctor who let me know my risk factors for a heart attack were almost zero and that I needed to calm down so they could take an EKG. All while the world’s greatest roommate sat by my bedside and texted updates to my mom.

Which is all to say a couple things:

• I’ve sworn off Ruffles All Dressed potato chips. There was an ad that played on repeat during the NBA Playoffs for these Candian every-flavor chips and I cracked and bought them. Although it was my fault, they still helped put me into an ER  and tasted like crap. Bye.
• When I imagined my life at age 27, I didn’t imagine chest pains. It was really scary. I also didn’t imagine a roommate that would stay with me in an ER, that was really nice.
• When I said I wanted to take my writing and illustrations more seriously, I probably should have done so by finding a time besides the witching hour to work on them. But that’s still my life four months later.

I wish I had drawn more life lessons from my ER visit. I try and eat salads more, and often fail. I just finally made an appointment with my primary care physician. And that’s about it.

School is starting this month and my mind keeps wandering back to the decision I made and wondering where the other paths might have led me at this point. But if there was one thing that was affirming about my decision, it was that had a Canadian-potato-chip-included-heart-burn-induced-panic-attack occurred, I would have been alone and scared. And that would have been awful. I’ll replay the different paths in my head, but that’s usually the thought I end on: the text thread of my friend who left his 18 month old to drive me across town on a work night, and my roommate who had a bag packed and a Elena Ferrante book for the waiting room, and the boss who took my call at 11 PM, and the friend who followed up the next day. I made the right decision.

The hard part is the waiting and the doubt. About 5-10 times a day an impulse in my mind causes me to blurt out the word “garbage” under my breath. It’s like an anxiety exhaust. I’ll have a positive thought or look up at the ivy on campus, or just be humming a song that I like, and then like a guttural reaction I’ll stop walking and my eyes will fall to the ground. I’ll think about an email I didn’t send or a bill or the last time I went to the gym or a promise I’ve yet to fulfill and I’ll say it, you are “garbage.” Sadly, there aren’t enough corgi Instagram feeds to battle with the negative beliefs I carry about myself.

I’m wrong, and I know I am wrong. It is just the same anxiety and self-doubt that everyone else carries about themselves. But for some reason, the nature of writing and art feeds into it. It’s I’m self-taught and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing doubts. It’s the vulnerability of being really proud of a piece of writing and looking to social media and view counts for validation. It’s the hatred and condescending retorts that you will inevitably encounter from twitter hives. It’s the idea that you are an amateur and want to “go pro”. It’s the questions about what comic illustrations and niche basketball “hot takes” really mean for anyone outside of yourself.  It’s the expectation that the work you put in each day will have visible, measurable progress tomorrow. It’s the self-critiques that you know you aren’t there yet that goes too far and thinks – you aren’t going anywhere. It’s the inordinate amount of bloggers that all seem to have newborns. And the friends that did make it into medical school. And friends in grad school or done with grad school. But most of all it’s this core belief that I’m lost, alone, and going nowhere.

On good days I can stop it with a walk at lunch or a mindful minute on the train home. But it’s frustrating to think I can’t appreciate my present life as someone that writes and draws and is paid for that (sparingly), because it’s not at X publication, or it’s not full time. I’m so focused on a destination that is undefined that I can’t enjoy the process of getting there, of giving myself four hours before bed to draw Michael Jordan dunking a cherry into a hot fudge sundae. I can’t  get excited about a hundred some strangers that bought the art I created on t-shirts and mugs. I want to get to a place where I can create for myself and no one else because I love it. And on good days I am almost there. It’s just the days I can’t get out of bed that are tough.

And now I’m 28. And I’m trying not to compare my life to the accomplishments of my friends and those around me. I’m trying to just measure my life by who I am and how I feel and what I do. Believing in my goals, and loving that I’m chasing my dreams. And loving that I can eat ice cream on my back porch at midnight on my birthday and listen to the cicadas. I am 28. I’m happy. And I can do anything I fucking want. I just have to remind myself sometimes.

I stayed in Chicago after school ended to try and take an EMT class.  That lasted all of a week when I was kicked out for being late 3 days in a row. I sublet a 2 bedroom with 5 other roommates, worked in the hospital filing grant paperwork and listening to the entire back catalogue of This American Life. It was the summer after my computer was stolen, and the summer I had to sleep on couches and pay for rent in pie. It was really lonely for a lot of it, but it was also the first time I lived on my own. Anyways, I should probably just let the word heavy thing I made speak for itself:

I gave notice at work and used my savings (from selling my car earlier that fall) to give the GRE and applications a true shot. Five acceptances to epidemiology programs for Masters in Public Health later and I’m at a bit of an impasse. By April 15, I have to notify the schools of my decision (accept or decline the offer of admission). And with less than two weeks until the deadline, I can’t make up my mind.

For one, it turns out Master’s Programs cost a lot of money, like between $40,000 and $60,000 annually. Two years of tuition plus room and board almost guarantees $75,000-100,000 in loans and no guarantee of finding work during or after my studies. Most schools don’t recommend research positions or teaching assistantships until after a year of school, which makes the idea of attending school almost financially impossible for someone like me who stupidly lives paycheck to paycheck and just spent his $2,000 savings account on a two-month coffee shop fellowship and Cavs tickets. The idea of debt is undesirable and the $10,000 in student loans I accumulated during undergraduate is plenty. I could manage an amount around $50,000, but after that, I’m almost under water and signing up for a lifetime of payment plans and limited income.

The five offers of admission could take me to Ann Arbor, Columbus, Minneapolis, Pittsburgh, or keep me in Chicago. And the scholarships and fellowships I hoped would come with the offer of admission? Well, I am looking at the full cost of tuition at each location and just a few with in-state rates. That was disappointing.

Graduate school is kind of a scam, and it’s also a privilege. The resume I sent with my application has almost ten years of experience in health care and research and undergraduate studies in biology. And the personal statements I sent spoke to a period of five years since graduating from college where I developed a passion for public health and a skill set that supports that passion. Going to grad school would be the realization of about ten years of discernment and mistakes and coursework and data entry and payday donuts and panic attacks in bathroom stalls and weekly calls home asking what I’m doing with my life and a failed pursuit of a medical degree and the support of dozens of co-workers and family and friends and roommates. I worked hard to get to this decision, and instead of celebrating it, I’m budgeting it and asking why I did this in the first place.

Sometimes, I wake up, I wonder what it might be like to get a fresh start someplace new. What does my life look like in a studio apartment in Minneapolis? What if I got a dog? I can’t afford a dog. What if I moved to Pittsburgh? Would I live with my brother? Would I own a car and travel to Cleveland to see family on weekends? But I never seem to wonder what I’d be researching or what job I’d have two years from now. Instead, I wonder if I’d have more time to take my writing and art seriously; if being a student at a Big Ten school could afford me the opportunity to work for a student newspaper or cover the beat for the college basketball team.

On a train ride home after work, I’ll drift from my podcast and stare into the sun setting over Chicago’s western horizon and think about the world where I pack up and move to New Orleans. I didn’t even apply to the school in New Orleans and Tulane costs even more than the options I currently face. Still, a new life in New Orleans sounds kind of nice. Maybe I live in a row house and spend my mornings watching the sun rise on front steps, and swirl a single fancy ice cube and coffee concentrate in a plastic cup, warming the pads of my feet on concrete. A dog? A job? Maybe.  But I definitely go for runs on the weekends along the boulevard’s grassy median, just beside the streetcar rails. But maybe I should just vacation in New Orleans.

Other days, I bounce my friend’s toddler in my arms and wonder if she’s asleep-asleep or just kind of nodding off. And I’ll look to my roommate and ask if I’m really reading the clock right, that it’s 11:30 PM. And after failed attempts to tuck the toddler in her bed, I’ll resign to just laying back in a chair and wondering why I’d ever want to leave this 20-month-old child that is perfectly content to just sleep hugging my shoulder, and the roommate that is quietly sitting across from me on a Friday night, and the toddler’s parents that invite me over for Banh Mi sandwiches when my date night plans fall through. Chicago’s the cheapest option and the safest option and the option I usually land on. But these are friends that are like family, not my actual family. And if I’ve learned anything living in Chicago for four years it’s everything changes in June, and none of it is predictable.

And then there’s the truth that took me 800 words to get to: What if I don’t want a career in public health because I kind of want a career in journalism. And not the Mark Ruffalo Oscar-reel stuff, or even Newsroom beat. I mean sports journalism. In fact calling it journalism feels odd. Let’s just call it writing and illustrating about basketball.

At about the same time I left my cubicle, I got a media credential for a high school basketball showcase at the UIC Pavillion, and a small but rewarding assignment with an electronic magazine: a cover, a 2,000-word story on the showcase, and two full page illustrations for other stories. Since that point in time, I’ve written two more paid features for a web publication, published another 10 or so stories as a contributor to a noteworthy sports blog, joined another reputable (but homer) sports blog as a regular contributor, reviewed an advanced copy of a basketball book, and created another ten-plus illustrations. Last week I solicited another media credential and paid assignment, for which I just spent most my saved up PTO to pursue. And the opportunities keep coming, I’m a third of an iTunes podcast on sports and humor, I’m assisting the launch of a tiny letter publication, and I’ve procrastinated on two other paid illustration assignments. The grand total of my career earnings in writing and illustration are less than the three days pay I took in PTO last week, but they symbolize a reality that’s growing harder to ignore. I love writing and I love illustrating.

Running late with toast again except I'm not late and I've convinced McDonalds that I'm a member of the media. Still Spin Doctors tho.

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Mar 28, 2016 at 6:19am PDT

So here’s the dilemma I keep shuffling in my mind: I’ve worked five years since graduation to get to a point where I could go to graduate school and jump start a career in healthcare. It’s a field I am passionate about, and a profession I’m experienced in. But for almost a year, but really just in the past few months, I’ve spent all my free time and paid time off and energy chasing an opportunity I’m much more passionate about, but way less experienced in. And suddenly the five to ten years of science education and research work are on pause so I can try to take my writing and art seriously. Yes, it’s a craft that I love, but it’s a pursuit I’m almost too embarrassed to admit that I’d like a career in it, and one I really have little idea how to earn a living with.

Most writers I’ve encountered in the blogger-sphere double as lawyers or teachers or desk jobs. The writing jobs don’t pay, and the paid positions at major publications are kind of rare, and usually require about two years experience at another major publication. My writing and reporting resume is maybe two months long, part time, with about a year of blogging before that. And the path to one of these full-time positions is kind of just working at this level of production for a couple years, taking the opportunities that come, and hoping some deputy editor somewhere has noticed. Which means I could spend two more years at a research job of some sort, and double as a writer on nights, and hopefully still maintain a gym membership and a healthy diet. Or I could go to school in the meantime, keep my plan B, and cross that decision to abandon my studies (and keep my student loans) if a writing opportunity ever presented itself. It just seems like a bad idea to start a degree that is expensive and has limited career options with poor pay on the other side, especially when I would choose a job in writing if it ever came my way.

And so each day I wake up and I roll through my routine and shuffle these scenarios in my head. I know the answer, I think. It’s just really scary to say it out loud or write on this abandoned self-help blog. I’d be happy with a degree in public health and career in research and the loans I’d acquire to get me there. But the three days I spent with the future of the NBA last week were three of the best days I’ve had in 2016, or 2015, or the “Year of Dan” or any year of Dan. But right now those three days are kind of a hobby. And by April 15, I need to find a way to tell myself and five schools that I want to take those three days more seriously.  And that idea is really scary.

Difficult to go back to the desk job, I miss the view.

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Apr 2, 2016 at 7:48pm PDT

The other difficulty, and this is a thought I’ve been struggling with each time I visit this draft folder… Who am I writing this blog for? Why am I writing this blog? And is it a “blog”?

I know this isn’t a sad attempt at a blog to book, and it feels like it is more than just for myself. The idea of writing about myself, while at first courageous, now just seems like a boring run-on. Writing about yourself and sharing it with others, it is so commonplace on the web these days. I spend my commutes consuming all these personal think-pieces and podcasts. And if I am being honest with myself, so many people do it way better than I ever could. I guess when I started this project, I thought it would be accomplishing three things…

1. it would be a personal record and witness to my goals, demanding accountability that my own off-grid journals and thoughts couldn’t
2. it would be a ritual to get myself back into the space of creating, of writing, of drawing, and perhaps exploring new mediums and methods.
3. it might be worth reading, to the passerby of the internet of things, as a witness to the difficulties of every day life, and the anxieties we all face, the sorrows we all sit in, and the possibilities that are available if you try

I don’t know that my list of four or so posts from the past six months really accomplished this. The personal record was truest to my original intentions. The ritual was likely the underlying reason why I was doing this. And the worth-reading, while a desired outcome… was really only helpful for those wanting to try the recipes. A self-help-cooking-blog? Kind of a fun mashup, but poorly executed.

But perhaps it is time to let go of the concept of a blog and my commitment to writing things well and just write for the sake of writing. Rituals are important for me and I have been very good at breaking them for almost as long as I have been trying to keep them. Maybe I should be better at keeping to lesser rituals and standards. That’s the idea isn’t it? Achievable Goals.

So today I bring you artwork I have excavated from my old computer’s hard drive.

Originally intended for a hospital-wide art show submission two years ago, the piece was supposed to also have text written in the silhouettes of the the trees, but I couldn’t quite figure out the text I wanted to fill the trunks and branches with. And when trying to address this problem I found even deeper issues. If this was to be considered a work of art, as opposed to just a picture, what was it saying? What was I saying with it? That I just liked tracing over old photographs?

Oh and there was a companion piece.

I look at these photos now and find two competing thoughts.

The first is a feeling of disappointment that I don’t know anything from these images.

I can’t remember a bit of it. Where is it? The Cleveland Metroparks? Lakewood Park? A trip to Baltimore? I close my eyes and try to put myself in the place when I was this age (likely 2-3) and I only find images of photographs slipped behind photobook laminate. The train birthday cake my mom made my on my first birthday; a parade of brothers in pajamas-makeup-heels after raiding our mom’s closet. My mind drifts to the cliched thoughts of time passing, and jealousy for the moments a photograph can hold that I can’t. From there I try to recall a early memory:

Abby’s porch swing. I have a small frame, maybe I’m 7 or 9? Barefoot, sitting on the Singletary’s front porch. A swing, purple? Or red? Running my thumbs across the chain links as we rock higher until my toes can touch the sides of their house, and I’m kicking off the wall. The rusted chain links creak and I’m laughing.

and try for one before that:

Sneakers lined up on the cracks of a school hallway tile, or the feeling hopping between hot pavement and grass as I race up the street from the lake to our house. Jagged pebbles stubbing the pads of my feet. Am I younger? Maybe 6?

and one more before that:

These are toughest, The stories others have told me cloud in, and the lies I’ve imagined, the pictures I tried to recreate, the home videos I’ve watched. Do I have a earliest memory? A place that could only be from that long ago? A fourth of July in the first house we lived in? Or is that the second? The smell of my grandmother’s perfume? In the end I settle on the idea of a place that I’ve been too many times. A place I can’t remember because it has been with me before I knew to remember. A feeling of a place that has always been.

The second thought is a rush of nostalgia and curiosity.

I think of the cubby cheeked infant in my life right now, my friends’ soon to be one-year old, Mabel. Her smile is infectious. I listen as they describe their routines, and I can barely imagine our conversations from a year previous, or the year before that. She can crawl, and then she can stand, and now she comes running to their open arms. She falls and doesn’t even know to cry yet, and they encourage her to get up, assure her she can, ask her to try, egg her on with a whistle. Each time we meet from week to week and month to month so much has happened. I can almost sense them mature with the confidence in their voices. I think to my parents on my first birthday in those photographs. Their oversized and dated eye glasses, my mother’s curled hair, my dad behind a kodak camera as my mom eggs me on to blow out the flame on top a wax number one. How much have they changed in every of the twenty five years since then. What were they like when it had just started? What were their fears? What did they like to cook? When did they feel happy and when did they second guess what they were doing? And how often?

I don’t know that I am ready to call these photographs art. They are the beginnings of something, but it is difficult to put into words that purpose they serve. Right now they serve me and the ones who know these photographs, as a memory, but I need to start thinking beyond myself and what I want this to mean for others.

And this is where I am torn right now. Between thoughts about who I am, who I want to be, and what I want that to mean. My mind has been filled with many thoughts like these recently. I can sense the moment I’m in and I feel very happy but I can sense I won’t be happy here for long. There are the difficulties that everyone faces, a stressful job, loneliness, debt, a drop of bird poop on Friday’s donut. But when I can control my feelings enough to accept the things I cannot change, and look outside at how green the leaves are in the summer, it all feels worth it.

The questions I am taking the time to ask, and maybe I will have an answer for the next time I can find the courage to press Publish…

Who am I?
What do I fear?
What do I like to cook?
When do I feel happy?
And what does it all mean?
If I could do anything, be anyone, create something, what would that be?

And what did I think I wanted when I wore teddy-bear lined jackets and overalls?

Dan, what happened?

Good. Question.

Well I forgot to write in this for over two months and during that time a lot of things have changed. I have about 4 or so posts queued up in my draft folder to tell you all about it, but suffice to say, change begets change. I am excited to tell you all about those acheivable goals, but right now I just want to focus my thoughts on a very specific and selfish topic, prayer.

I’ll be the first to admit I am not a very religious person.

• I’m the kind of religious zealot that interprets my Sunday obligation in pretty generous ways. And not for the second collection baskets. For a good 6 months at the end of high school I went to Mass, idled in the parking lot behind my favorite coffee shop, listening to This American Life and sipping on an iced mocha.
• Before that, I was a a dweller of “God’s Back Porch”, the small space by the doors at the back of the church.
• Now? I mostly just do Brunch. I won’t bore you with my discernment (or lack there of). Religion is a deeply personal experience and I was pretty selfish and melodramatic at that age (and still am.)
• BUT I AM a very nostalgic person. And for as much as religion is a personal, my history with it is just as severely rooted in my family, my past, and my traditions. Which is why my roommates may question my ever growing collection of votive candles. And why I haven’t met a cathedral I didn’t just have to poke my head into at least once.
• OH AND last week I was updating my OKCupid profile questions with real answers, and I came across (and did not alter):

Do you believe in the power of prayer?

I replied: Yes.

So all disclaimers aside… I did attend a Jesuit high school and I learned a prayer there that I have found myself saying a lot this week.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

The routine of this is calming.

Headed into work on the morning train, squeezed up against a gentleman’s armpit? Serenity, please.
Yelled at in the lunch line for day-dreaming while they ask a fourth time whose salad this is? Serenity, please.
Twiddling thumbs at your desk as you wait for a task, any task at your job? Serenity, please.
Gmail hidden behind a firewall? Serenity, please.
Curt email replies regarding the temp status of your job, and the “non-employee” badge that comes with it? Serenity, please.
Crying in a bathroom stall at capacity with 40-somethings too stubborn to kick their dairy habit? Serenity, please.
Working on a Saturday afternoon for the job you left about a week ago? Serenity, please.

Yes, I got a new job

I’ll tell you all about the process in a designated post.

But, I am praying this week because I am beginning to feel like I made a mistake. This year is all about making mistakes, but they were forgivable and trivial: the meal get out of jail free cards; the laughable attempts at a bedtime; the water bottle I still haven’t purchased. Each day is a new attempt to be achievable. But last week I got a new job. And those aren’t really the kind of things I can change from one day to the next.

So this week I am praying for serenity for a new job I cannot change.

Luckily, as I am reminded by my co-workers, this job is temporary. And I am taking comfort in that. But it is not something I should take for granted. This is an opportunity to learn, to grow, to build; an opportunity for which I need to be strong enough to take the good with the bad.

I’m praying for the courage to change the things in my life I can.

Like my apartment, my diet, my weight, my exercise habits, the decorations in my cubicle, and even my career outlook. It took courage to take the first step out from the safety of my first real job. I have talents and skills that are valuable, but I need to find people I value and want to share them with.

And I’m praying for the wisdom to know the difference between a job and a career.

I am learning a lot about the things I want to do and the things I’d rather not.
A job is more than a commute or a pay check.
I’d rather have a job that inspires me.
I’d rather have a mission that is just.
I’d rather have a job that challenges me.

Prayer is a thing I turn to when I feel like I can’t do much else. This is pretty true of most religious moments. I think it would be helpful to take the time this year to give my prayers the space to take themselves seriously. I’ll add it to the list.

So in summary, I probally made a mistake. I’m praying this week that I can forgive myself and try again.

At the end of the first month of the Year After Dan, I am realizing why spreading goals out month by month was important. Because it is impossible to multitask on things that aren’t routine.

Like flossing. Flossing was on my list of improvements to personal hygiene for the month. I wanted to try out it out and I have only gotten so far as buying those cute floss-picks. Also on that list, the electric toothbrush that is still in it’s packaging because it is so much easier to just use the tooth brush already in the bathroom when it is 7 AM in the morning and I don’t know how to roll out of bed.

other problems:

sleeping. I can’t seem to get to bed by 10 PM. ever. like the closest I got was 10:37 on a holiday and then my roommates had a small kitchen party when they all came home at 11 PM. PLUS I’m 0/5 for trying to get to the gym before work. (One of February’s goals, more on this later…) The snooze button is my enemy, but I always justify it in the morning because I want 8 hours of sleep. So we are trying something new. A alarm. a 9:45 PM, time to go to bed alarm.

and drinking water?

It is really tough. I’d say I’m achieving this goal at about 50%, either drinking 1.5/3 liters or drinking 3 liters about half the time. I have a pint-sized wide-mouth mason jar at work I can refill about 2-3 times a day, the difficulty is remembering at night.

so what was achieved so far?

I kept to my make-your-meals plan. And it was difficult. We are talking grapefruits and bananas and granola bars for lunch. Making lunch salads and cooking dinners in addition to breakfasts uses too much time. Luckily the oatmeal is so filling that the fruit and granola lunches are perfect.

• week 2: I did a polenta bowl for dinner, along with grapefruits and a whole wheat banana nut muffin for breakfast. for lunch? turkey taco salad. oh and a homemade pizza to celebrate the weekend.
• week 3: back on the oatmeal grind, this time without those salty pistachios and par-cooked oats. full steel cut, irish oatmeal. for lunches, a combo of grapefruits, bananas, granola bars, and yogurt parfaits. and dinners were so good. i made a “ramen” from TJ products and later a peanut butter siracha stir fry with tofu and coconut rice.
• week 4: more oatmeal, this time with cinnamon and dates. more grapefruits, yogurts, and stir fry. this time with a heavy emphasis on the veggies and a garlic sauce. for friday, i mixed it up with a fig, prosciutto, and arugula pizza.

polenta bowl

a creamy polenta bowl topped with sausage, blistered tomatoes, spinach, and garlic.

1 lb sausage (I liked the hot italian, but you can use chicken, turkey, etc.)
1 pkg cherry tomatos
1 bag fresh spinach
1/4 cup goat cheese
1 cup polenta mix (cornmeal, instant, whatever)
few cloves of garlic
eggs

So this one was pretty good. you slice and brown the sausage with garlic in the skillet. set aside. cook the tomatoes on medium heat with the sausage oils until blistered (8 minutes). then add spinach and sausage and stir until wilty and delicious (3 minutes). pour over polenta.

polenta: I used the instant kind. it involves pouring the mix into 4 cups boiling water and stirring until thick on low heat for 5 minutes. fold in the cheese. done

AND (“optional”) _put_a_egg_on_it_ yeah you just crack a egg in a calm boil, poach it 4 minutes. scoop, pat dry. drop it on top with some cracked pepper.
source: the kitchn

other achievments? coca-cola free. followed the no-drink’s policy for the most part. here is the running list of mistakes:

• Couple beers with friends at BWW. Within the rules. I’m okay about this.
• A grapefruit cocktail out with friends at slurping turtle. again, within the rules. not bad.
• sipped a pepsi fountain drink. my officemate requested I taste test because she has diabetes and can only drink diet. didn’t realize I did it until after. so… 1 tbsp soda so far in 2015. I hate myself for it, but not terrible. also, for the record, I hate pepsi. not that it helps.
• One honey-cinnamon latte. this one was fully aware and my third coffee product of the day. I used my dining-out card on a visit to bang-bang pie with my RA I haven’t seen in 4 years. not terrible. I got a refill on my coffee (black). up to 16-20 oz for the day. Then she asks if I want to hang at a coffee shop while she studies and I say sure. Order up a 12 oz latte, big mistake. It was delicious and I’m kicking myself for it.
• 1.5 Do-rite donuts. purchased for my officemate’s birthday. Started with just a quarter, then an eighth, and another eighth, until I was up to 1.5 donuts. these were “within the rules”, but I don’t think it was in the spirit of the year. sigh.
• A couple roommate-baked ginger bread cookies. these things are as addictive as crack and were just laid out on the stove in multiple cookie sheets. Couldn’t even make my dinner without moving them and eating one, followed by another.
• One big-o-mug swiss miss hot chocolate. really not any occasion, just a night when i was still hungry. 100% dessert. 100% really not proud of myself right now.
• I won’t bore you with my superbowl cheesy dips.

Quick aside about special occasions like these: they happen all the time. In the month I’ve been doing this there have been 3 visitors from out of town, 2 birthdays, and a whole other string of celebrations, the least of which being the completion of my first 5 day week in a while. I could live week to week on the lies and excuses, feeding myself with special occasions.

Acheivable Goals.

turkey taco salad

this “taco salad” is more along the lines of guacamole on top of lettuce. But it’s pretty good if you are into real-heavy salads.

the taco mix:
1 lb ground turkey
2 cups cooked black beans
1 red pepper (chopped)
1 jalepano (diced)
1 onion (chopped)
few cloves garlic
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp cumin
1 tbsp chili powder
1/2 cup broth

Sauté the peppers, onion, garlic in a tsp oil until soft (5 minutes).
Add the turkey with spices. brown it, and stir in black beans. I add a bit of broth to reduce and help meld the flavors.
TBH you can half this but good luck finding a half pound of ground turkey. maybe freeze it?

the salad:
mixed greens
1/2 avocado sliced
1/4 cup mango (cubed)
handful chopped green onions
very small handful of tortilla strips
1-2 tbsp salsa

Heat up a 1/4 – 1/2 cup of the mix and drop that on the greens with the fixings.
by the end of the week I was just doing a bit of mix with avocado and mango. and that was plenty.

source: the kitchn (surprise!)

NB: I tried and failed to hydrate dried black beans and wound up with some crunchy beans mixed into my taco meat. So then I added too much water for some cooked beans and soggy meat. Then I used rice to absorb the excess. It was still pretty good.

Health goals?

Did I mention I went to the eye doctor? Boom! Called up the HR department, hunted down the information on my vision insurance. Turns out, never even lost the card because they don’t give you one. So I registered and logged in, found a Pearle Vision, scheduled and followed through. Eye sight updated.

For entertainment I compliled a list of all the dumb puns eye doctors be pulling within 5 miles of my zip code:

• Eye See Ravenswood
• Wink Optical
• Licoln Park Eyes
• Custom Eyes
• Eye Mechanix
• Red Eye Eyewear
• Urban Eyecare
• Eye Candy Optics

I got a Warby box and still can’t make up my mind. Then I learned Warby and my eye insurance don’t see eye-to-eye. See…

• Warby wants me to pay up front for my glasses and get reimbursed through a invoice.
• My eye insurance wants to pay up front through a vendor they have set up. OR they will reimburse my purchase after deducting copays that are itemized by lens and frames.
• My FSA (that’s flexible-spending-account for those keeping score at home) is designed to help cover my out of pocket medical costs. BUT I can’t double dip. As in, I can’t get insurance to reimburse back to my FSA purchase with Warby.

A bit Old World vs. New World puts me in a the middle. Even though it’s a bit of a no-flex-zone, I’ll be enjoying the affordable prices of Warby’s designs without my insurance’s help, because my FSA about to do the “use it or lose it” thing.



Still left on the list? PCP and Dentist. I’m awaiting referrals on both. Let’s just say my health care provider is partially staffed by doctors that share my office. I asked my boss, also a doctor in this provider group, to send a list of good doctors in the group and outside my office network. Reminder email sent, I’ll schedule this week hopefully.

Dentist? A bit harder. I hate dentists. I got to take the time during lunch this week to figure out the venn diagram of dentists near me, that are covered by my insurance, and recommended by a friend.

Glasses will have to wait until the appointments are complete.





trader joe’s pizza friday

TJ’s ready to go pizza dough
2-3 tbsp TJ’s pizza sauce
2-3 tbsp giardiniera
6 oz TJ’s part skim mozzarella
TJ’s fancy meats combo pack (we talking salami, capocollo, prosciutto)

or fig pizza friday

TJ’s dough
4 tbsp Fig Butter
6 oz part skim mozzarella
3-4 slices prosciutto
1 oz shaved parmesan

2 cups arugula tossed with balsamic vinagrette

preheat your pizza stone to 500 degrees. yeah i said it. pizza. stone.
roll out a 10-12 inch circle the onto a lightly floured paddle. i enjoy the cornmeal/flour blend. keep it just enough to keep it from sticking.
dress it up.
slide it into the oven, hot.
cook it like 8-10 minutes until desired cheese bubble-age.
paddle the pizza back to the counter to cool. slice, n fold.
source: @JNalv

So, some reflection on the month of January.

I consider making-3-meals-a-day quite the accomplishment and I am proud of it. And while I didn’t get to flossing and the entire list of doctors appointments, I feel like with the right amount of attention and willpower, I can get the list done.

As for the no-no’s… I’ve had slip ups (see: previous list of said slip-ups). Each time I do fall, it makes me think about why I am doing this and why it is so hard. Change is REALLY difficult. Part of this entire year is to validate myself. It is important to face fears and to overcome obstacles, but I’m learning it is just as important to know the way I feel is real, and it is okay. But when I do accomplish a goal, its rewards can be delicious (see: every recipe in this thing). Most importantly, I feel really… happy.

I will continue to make mistakes and be flexible and forgiving, with the end goal in mind.

We out here.





spicy peanut tofu stir fry

2 baby bok choys – cut at steam and pulled into leaves
TJ’s baby/chinese broccoli (cut into 1 inch pieces)
1/4 cup peanuts (roasted, chopped)

marinade (20 minutes)
tofu dried and cubed
1 tbsp soy
1 tbsp oil
1 tbsp sesame oil
1 tbsp ginger, minced
few cloves garlic, minced

sauce
1/4 cup white wine
1/2 tbsp honey
1/2 tbsp sesame
1 tbsp rice vinegar
2 tbsp siracha
1 tbsp chunky peanut butter

coconut rice
1 cup jasmine rice, rinsed
1/2 cup coconut milk
1 1/2 cup water

stir coconut ingredients in the ricer cooker. activate. done.
compress tofu on paper towels for 10 minutes. cube and marinate 20 minutes.
fry up the tofu with marinade and the peanuts in a wok on high heat until brown on all sides.
add greens for 2 minutes until dark/softened.
add the sauce, and let it reduce.
NB: if you want, add about 1 tbsp corn starch mixed with 2 tbsp water to the sauce to help it thicken.

source: @JNalv and some blog, i don’t know it was in a old email chain.

]]> https://yearofdan.com/one-down/feed/ 2 https://yearofdan.com/weak-one/ https://yearofdan.com/weak-one/#respond Sun, 11 Jan 2015 20:34:11 +0000 http://yearofdan.com/?p=95 Acheivable Goals

Change is hard. And I’m learning it takes patience, forgiveness, and a lot of planning.

Things like, the time it takes to actually plan out meals for a week, shop for them, and cook them, are tough to predict. I was up past midnight on Sunday between my crockpot chicken tikka masala, overnight jarred oats, and mandolin vegetables. And that includes giving up on making the salad dressing as 12:30 AM and agreeing to just eat hummus and chips for lunch on Monday.
BUT to be fair, my roommates did challenge me to a few rounds of 10s and 2s that I could not decline.

My weakness is my will power. For as empathetic as I may be, the person that is easiest to understand excuses for is myself. So I skipped lunch for 3 days before actually making the salad dressing on Thursday night. But, turns out the salad was really great.

1 tsp Sesame oil
1 tsp lime zest
Juice of 1 lime
1 tbsp Rice Vinegar
3 tbsp olive oil
1/2 inch fresh ground ginger
1 clove crushed garlic
salt and pepper

Shake violently in a jar until creamy and delicious.
Toss with: “Zen greens”, thinly sliced carrots, radishes, cucumber, chopped cilantro, and bean sprouts.



The good news

Overnight Oats and Chicken Masala are filling enough to eat 3 days in a row, skip lunch, and not think about it. And the extra 20 dollars I spent on groceries for healthy snacks (apples, pita chips with hummus, red peppers, rice chex and bananas) all went to good use.

Still, I wanted to talk this week about weakness. If I am great at planning things, listing things, preparing things… my biggest weakness, much like my maligned jump shot, is the follow through. I flake on plans, I give up on goals, I buy the food to make something but let it spoil in the fridge, I work from home because it is too cold to go to work. This year is about changing these things, but it has been tough to keep to the long list of goals I set for myself.

Did I drink 2.2 liters of water a day?

Not even close. One day I drank 3 bottles of water (about 1.5 liters), but unless we are counting herbal tea (with a bit of honey), my water intake has been about .85 liters a day. That water bottle I joked about, I don’t have it. So now I am going to buy one. I’m going to actively train myself to drink water.

Did I drink anything on the do-not-drink list?

Yes, I had 2 beers on Friday night. But this was under the exceptions. I watched games with friends at Buffalo Wild Wings and enjoyed a assortment of wings and $3 apps. My meal out card played, drinking in a social context, and limited to just a couple, along with a healthy amount of water.

Did I make dinner all week?

Yes (‘cept Friday wings).

Did I make breakfast all week?

Yes.

Limit coffee?

Yes. (BTW, 12 oz is like really small.)

2 cups steel cut oats (make sure they are not the 3 minute kind)
1 cup dried apricots
pinch salt
4 cups water
5 mason jars

combine in a pot, bring to boil, simmer 5 minutes, pour into jar, cap’em and leave out overnight.

in the morning: refrigerate for the week. add a swig of skim milk, and microwave at work for a few minutes.
optional: sprinkle in a nut. (would not recommend the chore of shelling salted pistachios because it makes it too salty, but walnuts not bad.)
source: the kitchn

So the other goals that I didn’t get to on my long list for January?

• Sleep. Going to try to get it this week. 8 hours. Bed by 10, up by 6. Let’s see if I can use rest as a way to get this stuff done.
• Health. Make the appointments for doctors, primary, vision, dental. sigh.
• Stress. And this one is the tough one. I got to stop worrying myself about doing things and then beating myself up when I don’t do them fully.

This week’s menu:

• more oats
• roast-chicken, poached egg, wilted tomato and spinach polenta bowl
• turkey taco salad

Until then, keep the votive candles glowing and pray I get a bit stronger in week 2.

Acheivable Goals

]]> https://yearofdan.com/weak-one/feed/ 0 https://yearofdan.com/new-year/ https://yearofdan.com/new-year/#comments Sun, 04 Jan 2015 12:00:57 +0000 http://yearofdan.com/?p=56 The mantra for the year after dan:

Acheivable Goals.

I spelled it wrong in my notebook but I am going with it anyways.

Still, when I sat down at the hipster-biker-coffee-shop around the corner, or as they like to call it, a “general store,” those were the first two words I wrote down. Like the AMDG I had to scribble on the corners of my homework in highschool, Acheivable Goals will be the words that define my purpose this year.

Let’s put it another way. About two years ago I vacationed with my family in the Adirondacks. We stayed at a friend’s cabin on a lake for a long weekend in July. Absolutely beautiful out there. Well a couple days in, we decided to go for a hike. The friend had recommended a path to a overlook called Castle Rock. 700 feet elevation, a small peak that overlooks Blue Mountain Lake, about 3.5 miles there and back. The trail is a typical nature path: a gradual incline, the occasional rock or root, but during the last quarter mile there is a very steep section leading to the southern face of the peak. At the peak, you climb up a series large boulders, and roots to get to the overlook.

In the weeks before this trip, I had a bad cold. It turned worse when I took a dose of DayQuil that sent me to the Urgent Care with a full-body allergic reaction. A Z-pack, some coughing pearls, and a few boxes of antihistamines put my body to work. I still was wheezing at night and fighting through the end of a cough when we left for the trip.

So about two thirds the way up Castle Rock, I was glowing red like a lawn ornament on Christmas Eve. I could barely lift my feet, light-headed, wheezing, coughing. And I was frustrated, so I yelled at my family for dragging me up this hill. I wanted to turn back, but we were so close to the top that they just kept encouraging me to go on. My dad hung back with me and took stops for me to catch my breath. 15 minutes and maybe just 100 feet higher, my dad began to realize that I shouldn’t be doing this. But by this point we both wanted it. So I climb, and he encouraged, and we made it to the top. And between moments of blurred vision, I looked out and saw what really was the best view of the entire vacation. A few photos, and a very patient, slow decline back to the car, and it was over.



What I found at the top of Castle Rock was the a very frightening outlook. Mortality. I knew my health was bad, I knew my physical abilities were limited, but when you can feel sharp pains in lungs as you are just trying to breath, it changes everything. 2 days later, back in Urgent Care, I got an acute bronchitis diagnosis and an inhaler. 2 years later I am still trying to change. I don’t know how many times I could climb up Castle Rock again, hopefully quicker without bronchitis. I did it once on the support of my family, but I know I want to be the person that can climb Castle Rock anytime. To get there, however, I need acheivable goals. Build on what I can do, every day, little by little. Try new things, try things differently, push myself, ask for help when I need it, and never turn back.

So back to the general store. I stat down on this cute little pipe refurbished wood desk thing with my Moroccan Mint Tea and a fresh green moleskin and I started making lists. I love lists. So here is what I got:

Career Development
Education
Volunteer/Organizational Activities
Writing/ Publishing
Health
Weight Management
Personal Finances
Happiness
Anxiety coping
Art
Cooking
Social Networking
Diet – eating out vs cooking, salads, packed lunches
Water consumption vs soda vs coffee
Stress management
Reading
Sleeping
Cleaning
Hygeine
Adult tasks Taxes
De-cluttering
Travel!
Bike
Camp? lol



Then I started drawing arrows all around, trying to connect the list, understand it a bit. Some things will effect others like a chain reaction, others are caused by a deeper issue, still others aren’t really goals as much as just fun things I want to do. By the end of it I was a bit overwhelmed. It is a lot, too much. But I already had a idea in mind to help with this. Borrowed from yet another book I haven’t quite finished, The Happiness Project.

Monthly Acheivable Goals

yes, I am keeping to the misspelling. deal with it.

12 months, just a couple goals in each. Some will build over the course of a few months, others will be introduced and hopefully stick around. And for each goal I achieve, a reward.

January

1. Cooking + Diet + Drinking
2. Health/Hygiene
3. Sleep/Exercise

Rewards

• Fancy Meal Out
• New glasses!
• Bulls Game!

February

1. Personal Finances
2. Reading
3. The Gym!

Rewards

• Visit St. Louis

Anyways. There is a full list in my book, subject to edits as I add or alter goals and rewards. I think you get the idea.



So, January.

Let’s start with the hardest one…

Cooking + Diet + Drinking

Specifically…

Drinking



I love Coke. Like love love Coke. Like listed in my OKC desert island top five, can’t live without: First Sip of a Ice Cold Coke. Ahhhh.



Like includes coca cola ads in half my spotify playlists.

Like hears songs about coco and thinks about cocoa cola.

I love Coke so much that after I made this list (where I realized I hadn’t had coke in the new year or since like December 29.) I remembered I bought a coke on new years day that was waiting in the fridge, another at the move theater, and a third for dinner last night. 3 cokes in 3 days. And that is fairly accurate. About a soda a day or so.
*gulp* Please spare me your judgements.

And Coke is bad for you. Like really bad. Bad like – I did an extra credit project in middle school where I witnessed Coke actually erode my tooth in the matter of a couple weeks – bad. Bad like – what food group do I put caramel color, phosphoric acid, and high fructose corn syrup into? – bad.

Bad, So I’m giving it up. Ugh.

Other things I love, Starbucks Peppermint Mochas, coffee with cream, chai tea lattes, really any latte, egg nog, and tea.

So my first goal for the new year is simple. Instead of focusing on all the things I love that I can’t drink, I’m going to just drink water. 2.2 liters a day, the daily recommended amount to stay hydrated. I’m removing all processed beverages from my diet, meaning cokes, sodas, sugary drinks, gatorades, mochas, lattes, all of it. I’m allowed ONE 12 oz cup of coffee with SKIM MILK in the morning, and after that, if water isn’t quite hitting it for me, herbal tea. The lower the caffeine the better.

That one will be tough. But we’ll check in on that. I got this cute wearable technology that tracks my water intake called a water bottle. so 2.2 liters, no pop, one 12 oz coffee with skim milk, herbal tea is okay.

Cooking + Diet

I hate the word diet. Makes me think of the ones I “tried” in high school where my mom subbed out my Gushers and Oreos for an extra clementine; a clementine I pawned off and then used to buy skittles at the vending machines. Why couldn’t I have Gushers and Oreos like my other 3 siblings? Probably because they weren’t sneaking singles from their parents wallets to buy zebra cakes in 4th grade. But man that stuff irked me. My family is a long line of marathoner-metabolized freaks. And the word diet? It just makes me think of all the times I had to try on husky jeans in a Old Navy fitting room with my feet standing on about 4 extra inches of material because I was too short.



All Hail the King of Old Navy. c 2007 (Credit: JPT)

Diets are the things people go on when they want to lose weight. Then they go off the diet and their fat molecules that shrunk during the diet go right back to the size 44 inch jeans they were before. No seriously, I had to sit through these inconvenient truth seminars in endocrinology in college. Fat tissues produce hormones like leptin that promote gaining weight back after you lose weight. And it persists for years. Like the chances of keeping weight off for 5-10 years? Odds not in your favor.



Still, just because research says it won’t always work and just because they are difficult, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try it. So I’m going to diet. But here is the catch… I’m modifying my diet, not dieting. As in, the changes I’m making are lasting, permanent modifications, things I enjoy and wish I did more, and healthy! Bring it on, leptin.

Here are the rules…

1. Make every meal. Don’t order out.

…within reason and social ettiquette. So that Saturday night at a friends house when she orders pizza? Okay, fine. That chinese take out with your family on the day before Thanksgiving? Sure. Your roomates invite you on a Ramen-Quest, to try every bowl-o-broth in Chicago? Namaste. But that friday night after a long week when I just want a Chipotle burrito and a basketball game? GTFO, go to the store, make it yourself.



Chef Curry with the Pot

2. Get out of jail cards – 2 meals a week

Oh so you forgot to shop? You are hungry? Fine. Eat a lunch from the cafeteria. But don’t you dare order delivery. This also doesn’t mean you use both cards every week, sir.

3. Breakfast, make sure you eat it.

At home or at work or on a bus, don’t matter, eat a meal within 2 hours of waking up. Coffee doesn’t count. We are talking oatmeals, hand fruits, yogurt parfaits, eggs and potatoes, breakfast burritos, etc.
I’m really into pastries and donuts. No more. Carbs are okay for breakfast, but they will need to be the wholesome kind.

The plan… overnight oats with a variety of fruits. I tried this for a couple weeks and loved it. You make steel cut oats once a week, jar them up. Good to go with just a bit of milk and a sliced banana. And so portable.

4. Lunch, make sure you pack it.

Salads. Sliced fruits and veggies. Beans. Soups. Lentils. Legumes. No meats, no sweets, no breads. PBJ is a cop-out.

5. Dinner, make them on Sundays, leftovers during the week.

Stews and soups. Bread and meat are okay here, but rice or beans would be better. Less cheese and dairy if possible, but yogurt can be a lovely substitute. I made a whole list of crockpot recipes to try. First up, Chicken tiki masala and wild rice.

To go with this, I’m making a list of emergency dinners for when I can’t eat a 4th day of stew. Grilled cheese and tomato soup features prominently, but I’ll need to keep the ingredients in stock.





6. Dessert? Nope.

When did I convince myself I deserve the ice creams and oreo cookies and pie slices on a regular basis? Time to quite this habit. Weekend pie? That’s fine, but just a slice. Special occasion cake? okay. Offered? fine be polite, but don’t seek it out.

7. But what about…

ALWAYS KEEP THE SPIRIT OF OUR ACHEIVABLE GOALS IN MIND. _there_are_no_loopholes_

Example: Oh your roommate Clouse made a delicious bundt cake and deserves a compliment and validation for her baking prowess? Great. Eat a bite. Annnnd that’s it. “Yum, wish I could have more, thank you!”

So… thems the rules. If you’ve made it this far, you must be one of my really good friends or my mom. So just know I love you. And so, that is it for now. This will be tough. Right now I’m watching the sunset on the last day of my winter break. I’m going to suit up for a walk through Chicago’s first snow to stock up for the week. I’ll be telling you all about my recipes with photos soon. And look forward to some lovely rants about sleep patterns, healthcare, and hygeine this month. Until then…

Acheivable Goals.

]]> https://yearofdan.com/new-year/feed/ 2 https://yearofdan.com/year-of-dan/ https://yearofdan.com/year-of-dan/#comments Sat, 03 Jan 2015 12:00:03 +0000 http://yearofdan.com/?p=23 Friends do silly, wonderful things sometimes. Like give you an entire year. My friends let me take 2014. I changed my twitter handle, bought a web domain, even entertained the idea of this self-help blog.

But before it was a joke, the ‘year of dan’ was a goal. See, for 2014 I had big plans. I wanted to tackle my fears, anxieties. I thought about all the changes that happened in 2013: moving to Chicago, new job, new friends, same old friends; but it all felt hindered. I could count too many times where I was too afraid to do something, and felt like I was holding myself back, and maybe too embarrassed to talk about it. In the year of dan, I wanted to explore the things that terrified me most, armed with the power of my mantra, and see if they really are that bad.

Instead, I spent an entire year making jokes with friends about my year, but never took the time to write any resolutions down. This didn’t mean my year wasn’t without accomplishments. But without the accountability of a written record, I didn’t do that much. I did what was easy, when it was easy. Just enough to tell myself I was changing.

But what did I accomplish?

• So I started taking public transportation to work (which for the record is terrifying). And this only after a fender bender and the biggest snowfall in my lifetime made driving miserable. Through car troubles, 2 flat tires, 4 new tires, 2 tows, parking problems, fender benders, rain, and cold I switched between car and CTA until I finally caved and lent my car to the family. 6 months later, I still haven’t figure out how to get the monthly pass pre-tax off my paycheck, but I’m working on it.

First CTA trip in 3+ years. #YearofDan

— Year After Dan (@yearofdan) January 10, 2014

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Feb 2, 2014 at 5:49am PST

Rainy day. Front row on the catbus.

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Mar 3, 2014 at 6:20am PDT

Fall is here.

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Sep 9, 2014 at 4:34pm PDT

• I went back to school. A statistics course. This one was actually kind of tough. I had to apply for a post-graduate certificate program at my alma mater, email the professor for permission, ask my boss for permission, and pay for it (tax refund and a loan from my parents). But when fall semester and a planned linear algebra class approached, I discountinued.

That coffee spit take you do when you see the tuition bill for $4000 due in less than 20 days… (for ONE class)

— Year After Dan (@yearofdan) April 9, 2014

Celebrating end of Stat class with dollar shake.

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Jun 6, 2014 at 3:18pm PDT

• I ate at a restaurant by myself for the first time. It wasn’t terrible. And now I am a sometimes regular at the diner around the corner. But is that really a good thing?

All by myself at Breakfast. So far so good. #YearofDan

— Year After Dan (@yearofdan) March 2, 2014

• I joined a gym. YMCA. They had a special offer for twenty-somethings lingering on my facebook that I caved on and purchased in mid-February. But the gym was too far for the winter, and the weather was too nice in the summer. So I never went. In fact, the closest I got to a YMCA treadmill was the locker room on the floor below. I couldn’t find the door to the stairs, and was intimidated by the dudes showering and changing, so I left without finishing the tour.
• I flew on a plane. This is just always terrifying and I have done it before. I still hate doing it, but maybe just a little bit less than the megabus.

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Oct 10, 2014 at 7:02am PDT

So what didn’t I do?

• Well I never applied to graduate school,
• never took the GRE,
• never finished a book (see the stack of 10 novels on my bed stand),
• never went to a movie theater alone (how do people do this one? pretend your friend is in the bathroom?),
• never figured out how to budget for a savings account,
• never submitted a tax amendment form (no seriously state and local governments subpoenaed my mom),
• never went on a OKC date (but planned quite a few),
• never quite figured out hope to cope with anxiety and stress.

[exhales]

— Year After Dan (@yearofdan) December 12, 2014

And these are just the ones I’m willing to confess too.

Still, I have no regrets.

2014 was a year of highs and lows that finally felt a bit like being grown-up.

• My family moved out of my childhood home.

Porch night. Going to miss this place.

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Aug 8, 2014 at 5:47pm PDT

• It was my first full year back in Chicago.

If you ever change your mind #CLEtoCHI

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Jun 6, 2014 at 9:58pm PDT

• I finally made it to the Pacific Northwest.

Kings of Summer. #tbt

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Jul 7, 2014 at 6:47am PDT

• _Lebron_James_

Cleveland be like… https://t.co/jbvqDkH1c4

— Year After Dan (@yearofdan) June 24, 2014

• My friends had a baby.

Had a nice visit w/ the Thompsons.

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Aug 8, 2014 at 8:22pm PDT

• I “launched” a basketball blog.

I'm sorry @MarkJackson13 but we (me and @QRosborough ) just named our NBA blog after you… http://t.co/UDMb5ncnFB pic.twitter.com/Emd7PPePgQ

— Year After Dan (@yearofdan) October 29, 2014

• The Browns were in first place for a day.

Go Browns!

A photo posted by Daniel Rowell (@mustlovemustlovedogs) on Nov 11, 2014 at 10:45am PST

• The Ohio treasurer eventually paid me 6 dollars in over due taxes. (sucker.)

But all this is just to say…

2014 was a lot of things and it was a lot of fun. I could try to analyze these lists for some meaning for my year, maybe a theme. Gun to my head… I’d say the year of dan was about “letting me do me”; trying to be happy with who I am, right now. And I think I was successful. I feel confident, I feel happy, I feel loved, and I love myself.

But a _year_in_review_ is a bit too simple sometimes. There are a lot of things that happen in 365 days, and they don’t always look the same at the end as they do in the beggining. I let 2014 happen to me, and in many ways I needed it that way. But now, it is 2015 and I want to do things a bit differently, I’ll try to write about it… here.

]]> https://yearofdan.com/year-of-dan/feed/ 1 https://yearofdan.com/christmas/ https://yearofdan.com/christmas/#respond Fri, 02 Jan 2015 12:00:17 +0000 http://yearofdan.com/?p=5

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