Megan Morrison's Blog, page 6
November 13, 2012
The Mass Appeal of YA Fiction – It’s Not Just For Teens
October 12, 2012
I Believe in You
September 17, 2012
San Diego State
August 6, 2012
Paying it Forward (With the Help of Some New Friends!)
July 21, 2012
Today’s Date
Smile and say hi to each person you see
You never know what it might mean to their day.
– Megan Morrison, And Then it Rained: Lessons for Life
Most of us remember a lot of dates — good and bad. For me, I probably remember more than most people (okay, I know I remember more than most people). I can tell you when I graduated high school, when I got accepted to college, when I started my job. I can tell you each of the dates I’ve moved, the date my parents got divorced. And I can tell you the date they told me they were going to get divorced: July 21, 1997.
It’s a date that sticks out in my head every year, one that often brings with it a lot of reflection. Yet the reason for that reflection isn’t the negative milestone. When I think of this date I don’t usually think of the (what-seemed-to-be-at-the-time) catastrophic events that took place with my family; rather, I think about what took place afterwards — how I ended what I’d initially deemed the most horrible night of my life in a good mood.
As a result of the past 15 years of reflection, I’ve gained a better understanding of the cause of my abrupt mood change that night. My being cheered up by my friend and idol then mostly resulted from the lofty and unrealistic pedestal I’d placed her on. But you can’t change effect. You can’t change the fact that I still was cheered up, and so, you can’t change the lesson that even the simplest of actions can affect the mood — and memory — of another person.
Since I 
haven’t posted an excerpt from And Then it Rained: Lessons for Life in a while, I thought today would be an appropriate one to do so.
*** Chapter 4 ***
My distress over Dad and Vicky intensified when she visited in early June, especially after Mom came home mid-week practically spewing smoke from her ears. “He brought her to the gym! The place where he knows all our friends go. How embarrassing!” Her voice cracked.
“Did you talk to them at all?”
“No, I just got out of there as fast as I could.” She huffed and turned towards the stairs, but then stopped. “Oh, I have to tell you though, Maya was there and she was so sweet. She came up and gave me this huge hug and told me how great she thought I was.”
“Awww.” I wanted to give Maya a hug myself.
Dad made a point to introduce my sisters and me to Vicky later that week. Unwilling to break my loyalty to Mom, I kept it short, reluctantly giving in when the petite blonde with a strong Southern accent asked to take a few pictures of us. What did she need pictures of us for, anyways? Not like she was our stepmom. Not like she was even our friend,really.
The following weekend, Mom and Marie took Kiley, Eve and me along to a downtown venue, where Maya’s cousin was playing in an all-star basketball game. Maya arrived separately with a new guy—new to me, at least. He walked next to her with a confident stride, emphasizing his tall height and athletic build.
I turned to Marie. “Uh, who’s that?”
“Oh, that’s Noah.”
The name rang a bell. “The quarterback of the football team? And the star of the baseball team? The one in the newspaper?”
She looked like the proverbial cat that had just caught the mouse. “That’s him.”
So what is he doing with…. Maya and her dark-haired companion approached us.I did a double-take. Wow, look at those blue eyes. He is so….
Kiley immediately leaned over to me. “Megan, he’s really—”
“Shhh!” I cut her off with a furious nod. “I know.” We stared at him while they greeted our group.
They sat down in the bleachers behind us, and as my confusion and curiosity grew, the ever-bold Kiley turned around to clear things up.
“Maya, is Noah your boyfriend?”
I shook my head at her, equally amused and appreciative.
“Nooooo!” Maya and Noah looked at each other and chuckled. “No, we’re just good friends.”
Right, I’ve heard that one before.
While we waited the next few days to hear more about Noah, an unexpected package arrived from Vicky. To her credit, the pictures had actually turned out pretty well.
I rollerbladed over to Dad’s apartment one night at the end of the month to show him a shot of Molly and me that I’d framed. His patio, just off the living room, faced the street. I rolled up to the clear door and, seeing him inside on the couch, knocked lightly on the glass.
He didn’t move.
I knocked louder.
He continued to stare straight ahead, as though in some kind of daze.
I knocked even louder. “Dad! It’s me, Megan!”
He didn’t even flinch.
Crying now, I took the metal picture frame and hammered it against the window, ignoring notions of disrupting the neighbors or breaking the glass. A few people walked by, looking confused by my screams and noise-making, but Dad….
Still nothing.
I turned and started for home, sobbing as my concerns about his drinking mounted.
Mom’s news a week later that he’d enrolled in a two-week rehabilitation program brought them down a little.
“He’s decided to get help,” she said, “facing the fact he has a problem, and—”
“He’s coming home?” I’d nearly given up on the idea by now.
“Yep. He wants to get back together. He broke up with Vicky.” She looked more relieved than happy.
“So we won’t have to move?”
“Nope, we won’t. We’re working things out.”
She took my sisters and me to visit him at the hospital a couple nights later. He met her with a hug as we entered his room, evoking smiles from my sisters and me—Kiley looked as if she’d won the lottery.
Their newfound affection continued during our dinner in the hospital cafeteria. Mom rubbed his back. Dad patted her knee.
He told us how excited he was to come home and be a family again. “I think we should buy a boat before the summer is over. We can take it out on the lake together.”
A boat? I just want two parents who live in the same house again!
I updated my Aunt Colleen, Dad’s sister, during my visit to Minneapolis that weekend. We chatted during our annual shopping trip to the country’s largest mall, which produced a load of exciting new items.
It seemed silly to bring them along on our second-to-last nightly visit with Dad—after all, he’d come home in two days—but I couldn’t wait. I gathered the shopping bags and hopped in the car with Mom and my sisters.
We strolled into Dad’s hospital room twenty minutes later.
His ashen expression froze me in my tracks.
“Hey guys.” He sat on the edge of his bed, hands at his sides, his voice little more than a whisper.
Mom’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”
He got up and sauntered over. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He remained quiet through dinner, dismissing Kiley’s persistent questions. Mom asked again if he was okay, but he said he was just tired. I peered down at my bag of clothes—I’d show him some other time.
We walked back into to his room, preparing to say our goodbyes. Dad gave us all light hugs and then turned to Mom. “Can you come in for a second?”
She crossed her arms, hardly flinching. “Why?”
He looked between the four of us and bowed his head.
“I’m sorry.”
Nooo!
“Vicky and I have been talking again and we’re getting back together. I just can’t help it. We’re in love and I want to be with her. I want a divorce.”
Kiley and Eve started to cry, while Mom yelled at him in a panicked voice.
Her words didn’t even register. Divorced? For sure? That means we’ll have to move. That means I’ll barely see Dad anymore. And what about his drinking? He’ll never get better if he doesn’t come home!
My knees went weak. Mom finished her rant and stormed out down the sterile hallway, a number of nurses and other visitors looking on. My sisters and I somberly followed, tears pouring in buckets from each of us.
Mom sobbed as she drove out of the parking deck, screaming at one point and hitting the steering wheel.
Kiley spoke up from the back seat. “Mom, can I swear?”
“Sure.”
Mom would’ve said yes to anything at that moment. Kiley proceeded to drop a few four-letter words she’d never been allowed to utter before, placing “Dad” at the end of a couple. I rolled my eyes, tears still flowing from them. Maybe someday I could laugh at the ridiculousness of her antics, but not now.
We pulled into the garage and hurried out of the car. Mom slammed the door, causing the three of us to jump.
After she went inside, I turned to my sisters. “Let’s ride our bikes to the grocery store to get a sympathy card. Maybe that will help her.”
They agreed, and we set off on our mission.
We tiptoed back inside upon returning. An extra pair of shoes lay to the side of our entry mat—particularly small ones. Marie. Thank God she’s here.
I gently placed Mom’s card on the breakfast bar. “Let’s just go back outside and let Marie take care of Mom.”
The Murphys greeted us at the curb in front of our house, and we all sat down. They offered words of encouragement, things like, “Don’t worry, you guys will all be fine.”
Yeah right.
How would I survive without my friends next door, especially with my parents splitting up? What about Mom? Would she get through this? How? How could anything ever be good again?
My sobbing intensified. Lauren rubbed my shoulder—it only made me cry harder. I uncovered my face for a moment, glancing up towards the cul-de-sac, and then down the street.
I blinked.
Two people rollerbladed up the asphalt road towards us, their strides slow but steady. They got closer, and one of their faces came into view.
Maya.
Adrenaline rushed to every nerve ending in my body.
The Murphys and my sisters raced towards the pair, while I stayed on the curb. They rolled over to me.
“Hi Megan.” Maya offered a smile, which I weakly returned. She didn’t ask how I was—her sympathetic look indicated that she already knew the answer.
The rest of the kids sat back down beside me, while Maya and her friend Chloe stood in front of us. They started up a conversation, asking us if we were excited for school to start soon. I replied, happy to talk about something other than Dad or divorce. Kiley asked Maya if she was still seeing Noah.
“Yep.”
My sister and I exchanged knowing looks as Maya turned to Chloe. “Yeah, he’s leaving for baseball camp tomorrow, so I won’t see him for two weeks. Oh well.”
The two friends stayed and talked with us for another half hour. I waved at them as they rolled away, my tears having subsided.
July 19, 2012
Following My Passion
“Courage is daring to take that first step, or a different path. It is the decision to place your dreams above your fears.”
-Mark Twain
I’ve been living a lie.
That’s what it 
feels like, at least. For the past few years I’ve been telling others to go after their dreams with all their might, while giving only a second-rate effort towards my own.
This may surprise some people to hear. After all, I published a book last year: a memoir about my experience at my “dream school” meant to inspire other kids to go to theirs’. I visited classrooms to talk about this book and discussed the many lessons to learn from it; and of course, I kept up this blog, dispensing as many tidbits of advice and motivation as I could. So if my dream is to help kids get to college and achieve all of their potential there, aren’t I doing plenty to pursue it?
No.
Because at the same time I’ve been putting energy into these outlets, I’ve been putting way more energy into my day job. You know, that thing you’re supposed to get when you graduate college where you can earn money, advance to highly sought-after positions, and get to challenge yourself. I did that. In fact, I got a good job, earned some (really) good money, and established myself pretty well. I had some rewarding experiences, made some great friends, and completed a number of successful projects, which is why it never occurred to me that anything was missing… until about two years ago.
It was a perfect storm of sorts: A few situations that made me start to think more seriously about a next step in my career; my book on the verge of getting published, evoking excitement about earning money for my “mission” of helping kids get to college. All of a sudden, something clicked that fall: Why am I not doing this stuff all the time?
A brief work trip that February to my favorite place in the world, Wilmington, North Carolina, allowed for some more reflecting. Running along the ocean, taking in the scenery, I confirmed my inclincation: it was time for a change. It would be at least a year before I could do anything drastic — this career move required a graduate degree, which required a whole host of other next steps. But if I focused, I could get there. On the last morning of that trip, February 15, 2011, I wrote ’12 in the sand and took a picture of it.
A reminder that has stayed as the background of my iPhone for the past 18 months.
During this time I’ve researched programs, ultimately determining that the Educational Leadership and Policy program at my home state universit
y best fit my goals. I’ve applied and been accepted to that program; and last, but certainly not least, I’ve tripled my savings account. I met with an advisor last summer, and we discussed my career ambitions once I graduated — areas like college advising, or being a director of programs for incoming students. Our conversation brought me to tears. I walked out of that campus building without a single doubt in the world that I was on the right path.
So does that mean I’ve been on the wrong path for six years? I don’t think so. Besides the amazing experiences I’ve had at my current job, in particular opportunities to travel, I think it’s taken me this long to truly find my passion. I knew when I graduated college that I’d had an extraordinary experience there, and I knew I wanted to pay that experience forward somehow. Yet I also knew I was writing a book that could very well accomplish those things.
It was only after a few more years of visiting campuses, thinking about the goals of my book, and perhaps most importantly, continuing to realize how I was shaped by my own collegiate experience, that I realized helping others reap the same rewards wasn’t just something I could do as a hobby, or with close friends and family.
The notion taught me another lesson.
You can pursue your dreams on the side. You absolutely can. You can write books, start organizations, attend events. But when you figure out a way to combine your work and your dreams — when you make the decision to combine your work and your dreams — that’s when you win big. It’s that moment when you stop caring about how much money you get paid and instead think “I’m getting paid to do this?” That time when you stop waiting for work to be over so you can get to the thing in the day you’re most excited, and instead, get excited about going to work. It’s when saying “the right things” at work is easy, because you’re just saying exactly what you feel, what you know, and what you want… all the time.
I heard it said recently that ”when you find a job your passionate about, you gain five days in a week.” To be honest, I still can’t quite fathom that I’m going to be going to work to do the thing I’ve been trying to find time outside of work to do for the past few years.
And that’s how I know it’s what I’m meant to do.
What’s your passion? Are you going after it? If not, why?
June 14, 2012
Graduation Cards
“Some dreams live on in time, forever.”
–Gloria Estefan
They’re on the shelves of just about every supermarket and grocery store right now.
They’re stacked in neat little rows, categorized by relationship or level of humor, waiting to be plucked up and read by a passer-by looking for that perfect message. Maybe it’s for a friend. Maybe it’s for a family member.
Maybe, if that passer-by is like me, it’s just for a little inspiration.
Why do I love high school graduation cards so much? Why do I look forward to the month of June every year, sifting through those endless piles, scouring every word — even the years when I don’t know anyone graduating? (though with my huge family, this circumstance doesn’t come about very often).
It all started ten years ago — my high school graduation.
I had a lot to 
be proud of then. I’d graduated in the top of my class, maintaining a high GPA in advanced courses, all the while enduring some pretty tough circumstances at home. Now, I was about to head off to my dream school, somewhere I’d chosen, and somewhere that would surely be more exciting than the place I’d been for the past eighteen years.
For these reasons, reading phrases like “The future is a rainbow of bright tomorrows” or “The journey of a million miles begins with one step,” (Lau Tzu) sent goose bumps crawling over my skin. I also couldn’t get enough of the messages that concentrated on using the past as a catalyst for the future: “Only experience can teach us the fine balance of courage and caution” or “It’s not the mountains we must conquer, but ourselves” (Edmund Hillary).
That was me. I’d learned as much as I could, I’d “conquered” myself, and I was ready to take on the college world.
I saved all of those graduation cards. I’d always been a quote hound, hanging pictures in my room with little tidbits of wisdom. To that end, I’d also been a packrat when it came to memorabilia, so it seemed only natural to keep the huge stack of cardboard around.
It’s a little different to go back and read them ten years later.
“It’s not the mountains we must conquer, but ourselves.”
When I read that front cover as a recent high school graduate, I nodded my head confidently. Now, I realize, I had no idea what it even meant…. and it makes me appreciate the words that much more.
I had no idea then how the next four years of my life would challenge me — much more than the previous ones: the homesickness, the paralyzing fear of the unknown and being out on my own. I also had no idea what it entailed to truly conquer those feelings of weakness. Not just to go to my dream school, not just to get there, but to stay there… and thrive. 
Graduation cards remind me of that journey I took. More importantly, they remind me of all the pieces of that journey: dreaming and setting a goal for yourself. Putting your mind to something and working towards it. They remind me of that power of perseverance; overcoming doubts and setbacks.
They remind me to expect the unexpected — both the challenges, and the rewards.
It’s nice to have that reminder at least once a year. In the midst of a long day or week or busy month, when I’m struggling to “conquer” the load in front of me, it’s nice to remember that my future is wide open, that life isn’t always what I plan on (good or bad), and that no matter how big the obstacle, I’ll find a way to get through it.
Do you find reading quotes inspiring? What are some of your favorites? Here’s mine from a card that I actually received twice, at both my high school and college graduation — I guess my friends and family knew how much I could relate to it.
“There is an inner beauty about a woman who believes in herself, who knows she is capable of anything she puts her mind to. There is a beauty in the strength and determination of a woman who follows her own path, who isn’t thrown off by obstacles alone the way. There is a beauty about a woman whose confidence comes from experience, who knows she can fall, pick herself up, and go on.”
–Gemma Ynez
PS: All this talk about graduation and graduation cards has also reminded me of what Sky Blue Mission is all about. Stay tuned for posts over the next few weeks describing some of my goals with the mission, and why I think those goals are so important.
May 30, 2012
Finding Yourself in Another Place
Cause if you never leave home, never let go
You’ll never make it to the great unknown till you k eep your eyes open
–Needtobreath
I’m an ocean girl.
For those of you who’ve read my memoir, I know you’re shaking your head right now and saying “duh.” You’ve read how I spend hours running and walking along the shore, reflecting on the past, present, and future. You probably remember that even though I’ve moved back to a landlocked Midwestern state, I dream of one day living seaside, waking up every morning and staring off a beachfront balcony at the endless blue.
For that reason, when my best friend and I planned a trip to Ireland a few years back, booking three nights in Dublin and three nights in Galway, I was positive I’d like Galway best. It was the city on the coast, the launching point for famous worldwide sailing races, a perfect fit for me.
Dublin won by a landslide.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved Galway too. The coast was indeed beautiful, the “rainbow row” of houses along the harbor like something out of a painting; and if you ever plan your own trip to Ireland, 
you HAVE to go biking on the nearby Aran Islands, where you can ride through droves of pastures and out to some of the most massive cliffs on earth. But there was something about Dublin, the historic architecture — castles and cathedrals — set in the middle of a bustling city, the casual pub atmosphere, and the beauty of St. Stephen’s Green (in full bloom with Cherry Blossoms) that got me.
The fact that I couldn’t get enough of this city tells me something about my travel preferences: I guess I don’t need to be on a beach with a book to feel like I’m on vacation.
It also tells me something about me.
I’ve always thought of myself as an introvert, enjoying alone time, which fit well into my prediction that I’d like the coast of Ireland better than its biggest city. Yet it turns out, a laidback but lively atmosphere suits me even better. Give me some good music, a beer (or Irish Cider), and some interesting locals, and I’ll chat for hours.
This past Friday, I returned from a one-month stay in Italy and Paris with my mom; an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime journey through eight different cities, ending in Rome. While running through the world’s most historic city on our second-to-last day, I got to thinking about which stops I’d liked best.
Venice was charming, and I enjoyed not hearing a car horn for two days. It’s a little touristy, but there’s character around every corner (or rather, across every canal).
Milan was very industrial, busy, and while I’m sure most fashion students dream of going there, it just didn’t seem like a lot to see.
Florence was okay. Some neat buildings — the Duomo, that famous domed structure captured by most cityscape paintings, is almost larger than life in person. Yet if you got off the beaten path there, it didn’t have the feel of a unique city. Again, too busy.
Rome was really busy, and I wasn’t a fan of the “stop if you want to” cros
swalks for cars, especially as a runner. However, when you add in the historic buildings EVERYWHERE, it’s a city hard to beat. Coming upon the Pantheon, a 2000-year-old structure that sits in the middle of a modern shopping area, was one of my favorite moments of the whole trip, and I couldn’t get enough of the fountains, especially the famous “Fountain of the Four Rivers” featured in the movie Angels and Demons.
Our time in Cinque Terre on Italy’s coast was completely the opposite of Rome: QUIET. There couldn’t have been more than 200 residents in the town we stayed, which was great — a
view of the Mediterranean all to ourselves. The scenery was unbelievable (note the picture to the left): dozens of colored houses clinging to the cliffs, set against lush, green mountains. It was like nothing I’d seen before, and I was sad to say good-bye.
But happy to say hello to Tuscany. I’m not a skier, nor do I live in driving distance of mountains, so it’s not
often I vacation with them as a backdrop. The view from our villa (which was on a winery, by the way) was just like in the movies. In addition to the rolling hills, the 400-acre property boasted numerous gravel running paths, along with connecting roads leading through small towns where residents often stopped to wave at me as they opened up their shops for the day.
Lucca, in the heart of Tuscany, was a city I liked more than I’d anticipated. Small and quaint, not as touristy as Venice, and it had plenty of history. It also had the classic Italian architecture with balconies and flowers everywhere, cobblestone streets, and numerous churches.
And then… Paris. I’d been there before and already fallen in love, which was why I insisted to my mom that we go back 
while we were (kind of) close. Its icons are, well, iconic. I loved seeing the Eiffel Tower just as much the second time around, especially the view from the Trocadero, a huge platform just up the hill from it. But my favorite is still the Arc de Triomphe. There’s nothing like running up the Champs de Elysee and seeing that looming giant in front of you.
Again, I could easily look at this list as what I like and don’t like seeing on a vacation. Maybe, if I did it all over again, I’d skip Milan, or go to Sienna, another Tuscan city, instead of Florence. But I love that I saw all these places. I love that I have them to compare to one another.
Like Ireland, I love that I can come back home and feel as though I’ve learned more about who I am.
Quietness definitely suits me. I like being away from activity — having a chance to reflect and hear myself think. Cinque Terre and Tuscany were perfect for this. I could run for hours through those hills and mountain towns, and let me tell you, my calf muscles are much stronger because of it.
I can hold my own in a big city too. It took me a couple days of running in Rome, and getting (very) lost at least once, but I found my way around and enjoyed the adventure. I didn’t let the sprawl overwhelm me, but rather conquered it with the help of maps and a few street vendors who luckily, spoke some English.
There’s an explorer side of me. The highlight of Tuscany was supposed to be vegging around the villa, but instead, I loved touring Lucca, seeing a new city full of history and character. I thought I’d want to be laying by the pool, yet I was even more content sitting in the middle of a piazza — huge squares that Italy is known for — and people-watching.
Finally, the pieces come together in Paris. There’s quiet corner cafes when I need them, the buzz of a big city when I want it, culture, different people, and the icons to appreciate. It’s my favorite city in the world; that’s right, the entire world, or at least what I’ve seen of it so far.
I’ve always believed that the greatest benefit of traveling, in particular to another country, is getting a new perspective: seeing other views on everything from politics to fashion. In fact, as my mom put it after two days in Europe “America really has no idea on fashion.” Yet what occurred to me more than ever on this trip is how traveling to new places gives you a better perspective on yourself. Part of who you are is where you feel at home, and if you never leave home, you’ll never know where that might be.
I might have sat on the ocean the rest of my life were it not for my best friend convincing me to cross it and see the countries on the other side. Now, instead, I want to see more — more European cities like Dublin and Rome, more views of the Mediterranean (perhaps from the coast of Spain?).
Of course, I also want to go back to Paris. 
March 26, 2012
9 Books that will change your life without hurting your pocket book!
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February 22, 2012
Beat the Winter Blues with some GREAT books today!
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