Here’s the link to my blog. That’s six words. And that’s the maximum my English teacher allowed us for our memoir assignment. Those words would not have depicted the Molly McConn of six months ago. But today, thanks to a stranger living in L.A., that says it all.
I’ve never met her. Ironically, I know her better than most of the people I pass by in those color-coordinated high school hallways every single day.
So, no, I don't know how many siblings she has, where her first kiss was, or what happened the night she cried harder than ever before. I know the basics--name, age, occupation. Emily. 27. Blogger. That last detail, her making a livelihood out of blogging, is what unveiled to me everything I admire about Emily Schumann.
It's almost as if my ignorance of her life beneath the surface, or shall I say beneath the blog, is what makes Emily so inspirational. All it took was that contagious smile she wears in almost every photograph and her writing that makes you feel like you're her longtime best friend for her to speak to me. She expresses herself with such grace and exuberance that gives off this fearless vibe that I hope to one day exude.
In the late hours of the night I took the liberty to send Emily an email. I tend to divide my time dedicated for others during the day leaving the night owl's hours to do what suits me. It's worth sacrificing the sleep for the time of solitude and silence to envision my future, read books that my teachers don't shove down my throat, and write on my own blog.
It was a week later—I had already forgotten about the email—when a reply from Emily appeared in my inbox.
In that moment, when I read Emily's words, I could start living the life I was supposed to. I ignored the voices of reason that had been screaming for me to "be realistic" even if that meant sacrificing doing what I was passionate about. Her words, in their raw simplest form, made everything so clear. They drowned out so many others that were merely holding me back, putting my dreams off track. I was destined for greatness, she said, and as long as I don't take a wrong turn on the path of doing what I love, I'll end up at the right destination. As a sigh of relief came over me, I felt as though I was breathing new oxygen.
I had always thought of myself as a math-oriented person. I got a thrill from solving a problem, taking something complex and simplifying it, reducing anything to its singular concrete answer. But, in admiring Emily, I found just the opposite in myself. I found a desire to create something from nothing. I want to expand ideas, provide more depth to them, and essentially seek the complexities in life, not solve them. And I've found so much more in this process, for there are very few occasions when life will give you one answer, so why continue searching for them?
To many girls, she's Cupcakes and Cashmere. She's the charming blonde bookmarked on their Internet browser. To me, she's Emily, and Emily will forever be the instigator of the day that my pursuit of a career in the media, fashion, and journalism industries transformed from a non-realistic desire to a full-fledged pursuit. So here's to Emily and dreams. And moreover, here's to following those dreams.
If you pay attention to anything in the blogosphere, you're probably well aware of Emily and Cupcakes and Cashmere. If not, please check her out. I did just spend the last 500 words raving about her, didn't I? Carolyn even did a post about how I strive to be like her...embarrassing but one-hundred percent true. Hopefully one of these days I'll get to meet Emily. She's the Britney Spears of blogging, basically. Let's hope that I conveyed how much Emily has impacted me for those colleges to send me an acceptance letter!
[all photo rights to Emily Schumann and Cupcakes and Cashmere]
I skyped with Carolyn the other night laying all my frivolous high school problems on her. Sorry, Coco. She sent me this graphic the next day in hopes to give me a little boost to get me through the rest of the week. And it worked! So I'm here to pass it on to all of you in case--like me--your week wasn't your all-time greatest.