when i was around 7 years old, i got lost in my local supermarket. i went in with my mother and somehow, my attention was diverted towards an object that must have been shiny or pink or both and i wandered away. upon looking back, my mother was gone, along with any sense of familiarity with my surroundings. the dairy aisle become a foreboding land and i did what anyone would have done in that situation: i started to cry and wandered around until i saw the light of the open door.
well, don't worry, my mother found me and i was all safe again because i knew where i was and where i was going. it's interesting how much security we get from knowing what comes next in life. recently, i've lost that sense of security as i've wandered through aisles of classifieds and job postings, trying to figure out where i'm going.
things have changed today, and certainly for the better. there is once again a purpose to my life, a direction in which i'm going. and it feels amazing to know where tomorrow will lead.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Chapter 73: The last page of a book
i've never believed in looking at the last page of a book until i've earned it. i should not be allowed to know the final outcome without having poured over each page, each sentence, each plot twist or dragging monologue. my reward for all of it is the end, the finale, the point when everything finally comes together and there is a bigger picture that i can finally see. i've always kept this rule with the utmost severity.
but only with books. i've found that in nearly every other aspect of the life, i either don't care about the ending or find that i might prefer to know what's going to happen. maybe it's a way to prepare myself; i'm not sure. with movies, for example, i might sometimes like to know the ending so that i can pick out the nuances that point to that outcome that are inevitable embedded within the plot. i like to predict.
the one place that i'm dying for a peek into the future is the one place i can't get it. then again, that's the funny thing about life.
but only with books. i've found that in nearly every other aspect of the life, i either don't care about the ending or find that i might prefer to know what's going to happen. maybe it's a way to prepare myself; i'm not sure. with movies, for example, i might sometimes like to know the ending so that i can pick out the nuances that point to that outcome that are inevitable embedded within the plot. i like to predict.
the one place that i'm dying for a peek into the future is the one place i can't get it. then again, that's the funny thing about life.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Chapter 72: You should be a judge...
apparently, i have a very judging look about me. i attribute this to my very large indian eyes that show more expression than they should. i could be merely looking at someone, and that someone accuses me of judging them. is it my fault that i just happened to be looking at you as you took your 9th shot of the night, and stumbled away from the bar only to introduce your face to the beer covered floor? nope, definitely not judging you.
it appears to me that it's not my judgment that people are truly worried about. how many times has the following thoughts gone through your mind when you're, let's just say, in the elevator?
"oh dear, that woman is looking at me. why is she looking at me? shit, it's this shirt. i knew it was too tight. damn it, i could fit into it last week. what the hell happened? what did i eat? i need to lose 10 pounds. ugh and it doesn't match with this skirt, does it? i should have worn pants. shit, she's still looking."
meanwhile, that woman happens to be thinking:
"crap, i have so much to do today. shit, why is that woman looking at me..."
yea, guess what? as a very good friend's mother puts it, sadly, "no one really cares about you that much." except you, of course.
so is it really about me? or have i merely been looking at a person at the exact moment when he/she (oh yes, apparently my judgment extends to men, as well) is judging him/herself with the utmost scrutiny? we know how hard we are on ourselves, so God-forbid that some other person happens to peak in on this self-flagellation or (gasp!) agree with us. what would we truly do at that point when our worst fears are confirmed, as apparently some seem to think that my look is doing. i am not at all immune to this behavior because those who judge others are even better at judging themselves.
when did the word judgment become so negative? there are many times that i find myself judging some one's positive attributes, like a great pair of shoes or the way someone walks with so much confidence. rather than focusing on what i'm not, i think i'm going to try to focus on what i am, and make sure that what i am is great.
it appears to me that it's not my judgment that people are truly worried about. how many times has the following thoughts gone through your mind when you're, let's just say, in the elevator?
"oh dear, that woman is looking at me. why is she looking at me? shit, it's this shirt. i knew it was too tight. damn it, i could fit into it last week. what the hell happened? what did i eat? i need to lose 10 pounds. ugh and it doesn't match with this skirt, does it? i should have worn pants. shit, she's still looking."
meanwhile, that woman happens to be thinking:
"crap, i have so much to do today. shit, why is that woman looking at me..."
yea, guess what? as a very good friend's mother puts it, sadly, "no one really cares about you that much." except you, of course.
so is it really about me? or have i merely been looking at a person at the exact moment when he/she (oh yes, apparently my judgment extends to men, as well) is judging him/herself with the utmost scrutiny? we know how hard we are on ourselves, so God-forbid that some other person happens to peak in on this self-flagellation or (gasp!) agree with us. what would we truly do at that point when our worst fears are confirmed, as apparently some seem to think that my look is doing. i am not at all immune to this behavior because those who judge others are even better at judging themselves.
when did the word judgment become so negative? there are many times that i find myself judging some one's positive attributes, like a great pair of shoes or the way someone walks with so much confidence. rather than focusing on what i'm not, i think i'm going to try to focus on what i am, and make sure that what i am is great.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Chapter 71: The wind in my hair
when i was in the fifth grade, i was a master bike rider. i was no lance armstrong, but i was pretty awesome. i had a red, six speed bike and i could literally ride it anywhere but inside my house. the driveway, side walk, street, lawn, up grassy knolls, down steep piles of dirt made by the construction on the house down the street. i love the feeling of being able to ride anywhere.
most of all, however, it was my time to think. this was when i could be alone and think about all the troubles that i was having. you might be wondering to yourself, "what on earth could possibly trouble a fifth grader?" many many things. we like to think of our childhood as simpler time; however, we were just as stressed out back then as we are today. that which troubled us during our childhood doesn't seem very important now because we hold it to the standards that we have today, but is it fair to compare the two? ok so maybe the fact that i hadn't seen titanic yet when everyone else in my class had already seen it twice doesn't seem like a big deal, but it was. my friends would move away to talk about it, i was always out of the conversation, my teachers even made references to the movie while teaching that i didn't understand. leo and kate were these really cool people who everyone knew but me, and i was made sure of that fact. i was ostracized, something difficult for a fifth grader to deal with.
regardless, all of these problems would be mulled over while on my bike. i could ride as fast as i wanted and imagine the worry blown out of my mind and out through my flowing hair behind me. the faster i sped, the farther i could get away. away from fifth grade politics and lanyard bracelet wars and my lack of capris. and it always worked. i came back from all of that just fine. i survived the fifth grade, and it seems as if bike riding was my answer.
i recently took up bike riding again and it felt like i was back in elementary school. i felt so free and light on it that i didn't want to get off, exactly like the old days. maybe this is the key to my stress relief and my fifth grade had it right. take some time, ride like the wind, and leave all my troubles behind. it's a theory that i am very willing to test out.
most of all, however, it was my time to think. this was when i could be alone and think about all the troubles that i was having. you might be wondering to yourself, "what on earth could possibly trouble a fifth grader?" many many things. we like to think of our childhood as simpler time; however, we were just as stressed out back then as we are today. that which troubled us during our childhood doesn't seem very important now because we hold it to the standards that we have today, but is it fair to compare the two? ok so maybe the fact that i hadn't seen titanic yet when everyone else in my class had already seen it twice doesn't seem like a big deal, but it was. my friends would move away to talk about it, i was always out of the conversation, my teachers even made references to the movie while teaching that i didn't understand. leo and kate were these really cool people who everyone knew but me, and i was made sure of that fact. i was ostracized, something difficult for a fifth grader to deal with.
regardless, all of these problems would be mulled over while on my bike. i could ride as fast as i wanted and imagine the worry blown out of my mind and out through my flowing hair behind me. the faster i sped, the farther i could get away. away from fifth grade politics and lanyard bracelet wars and my lack of capris. and it always worked. i came back from all of that just fine. i survived the fifth grade, and it seems as if bike riding was my answer.
i recently took up bike riding again and it felt like i was back in elementary school. i felt so free and light on it that i didn't want to get off, exactly like the old days. maybe this is the key to my stress relief and my fifth grade had it right. take some time, ride like the wind, and leave all my troubles behind. it's a theory that i am very willing to test out.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Chapter 70: God laughs.
i am a firm believer in agendas and organization. i've never been able to get anything done in my life without a constant reminder of the things i need to do next. this craze started in high school when our school district decided to give out free agendas. i was so hooked on mine that is a task wasn't written down, it wouldn't be done. it was as simple as that.
even now, my room is filled with dry erase boards, chalk boards, and cork boards while my computer has a post-it app - all to remind me of the things i need to do in life. until now, my life has been perfectly planned out, nearly down to the minute, and all these amenities helped me to stay on task with that goal.
until now, that is. it's completely alarming when suddenly, all those carefully laid plans have disintegrated. all that time i spent in even making the lists and reminders seems like wasted time when my plans have to change. it's not about being inflexible, it's about being prepared. despite how much one may do to prepare for the worst and for everything that could possibly go bad, there is always something that is forgotten. and it will be that exact something that comes up.
then again, maybe this is explains more about me than i thought. i never had an interest in math because a+b=c. always. there was never a day when a+b equaled x, or b could take a break while k took its place. i preferred english because multiple choice exams, the exam of choice for those who like predictability, were my downfall. i excelled at exam essays because any answer was right, as long as it's supported.
perhaps predictably isn't in my nature, and therefore, not in my life. rather than making lists and plans for life, i should just live. as they say, we make plans and God laughs.
even now, my room is filled with dry erase boards, chalk boards, and cork boards while my computer has a post-it app - all to remind me of the things i need to do in life. until now, my life has been perfectly planned out, nearly down to the minute, and all these amenities helped me to stay on task with that goal.
until now, that is. it's completely alarming when suddenly, all those carefully laid plans have disintegrated. all that time i spent in even making the lists and reminders seems like wasted time when my plans have to change. it's not about being inflexible, it's about being prepared. despite how much one may do to prepare for the worst and for everything that could possibly go bad, there is always something that is forgotten. and it will be that exact something that comes up.
then again, maybe this is explains more about me than i thought. i never had an interest in math because a+b=c. always. there was never a day when a+b equaled x, or b could take a break while k took its place. i preferred english because multiple choice exams, the exam of choice for those who like predictability, were my downfall. i excelled at exam essays because any answer was right, as long as it's supported.
perhaps predictably isn't in my nature, and therefore, not in my life. rather than making lists and plans for life, i should just live. as they say, we make plans and God laughs.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Chapter 69: Recessionista.
no blog would be very hip and happening (do people still say that?) today if it didn't mention the recession. it's everywhere: in tv commercials that start off with "these days, it's important to...", in the newspapers and news channels, even on your paycheck. or lack thereof. it's impossible to turn the corner or simply stroll down the street without the recession sneaking up on you, one way or another.
even webster's is getting a make over with words like "recessionista" popping up. according to the nytimes, this refers to "the style maven on a budget" (article here). basically, there are women out there who refuse to give up style for financial difficulties. even in an economic crisis, fashionistas everywhere are still making an effort to look effortless.
to be honest, this is the healthiest reaction to the recession i've seen yet. i'm not saying that we should refuse to accept what's happened and put our heads in the sand, and neither are these women. they're adapting to their surroundings, something humans have lost the ability to do. we're used to running in, taking over, and depleting the resources around us. and yet, evolutionarily speaking, we've done pretty well so far, so what could possibly be stopping us now?
today, a recession is the equivalent of an ice age or sudden global warming: an unwelcome change in our surroundings that makes us re-evaluate our lives and living situations. we wake up one morning, and suddenly, the world is not the way we left it when we went to sleep the night before. so shouldn't we be dealing with this the way homo-sapiens have for ages? we adapt, we make the best of the situation, we survive, and we go on. we may not be as resilient as the cockroach, per se, but we are pretty good. if even style can withstand the recession, imagine our possibilities.
even webster's is getting a make over with words like "recessionista" popping up. according to the nytimes, this refers to "the style maven on a budget" (article here). basically, there are women out there who refuse to give up style for financial difficulties. even in an economic crisis, fashionistas everywhere are still making an effort to look effortless.
to be honest, this is the healthiest reaction to the recession i've seen yet. i'm not saying that we should refuse to accept what's happened and put our heads in the sand, and neither are these women. they're adapting to their surroundings, something humans have lost the ability to do. we're used to running in, taking over, and depleting the resources around us. and yet, evolutionarily speaking, we've done pretty well so far, so what could possibly be stopping us now?
today, a recession is the equivalent of an ice age or sudden global warming: an unwelcome change in our surroundings that makes us re-evaluate our lives and living situations. we wake up one morning, and suddenly, the world is not the way we left it when we went to sleep the night before. so shouldn't we be dealing with this the way homo-sapiens have for ages? we adapt, we make the best of the situation, we survive, and we go on. we may not be as resilient as the cockroach, per se, but we are pretty good. if even style can withstand the recession, imagine our possibilities.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Chapter 68: Home.
i have an address that i put down under the category of "home." it's a standard address with the house number, street, city, state and zip code. after having put it down so many times on job applications these days, i'm starting to get that feeling when you've looked at a word for too long. it just doesn't seem quite right anymore.
but maybe it's not because i've been looking at it for too long, but because i'm seeing it for the first time. is this home? this quintessential house in suburbia that i remember as the place where i fought to be noticed as the middle child and fought the enemy of teenage-dom known as acne, the place where i was never sure of myself or what the outside world contained. considering that we are a society that always notices the bad, why do we put so much emphasis on home when some of our hardest days are spent in that very place? doubts about who we are, what we can do, self-image, self worth all arise in the home, according to freud. so why such an emphasis on "home is where the heart is?"
one thing that college has taught me is the transience of this label. one month into my freshmen year, i started calling my impersonal-and-lacking-any-kind-of-privacy dorm room home. i remember the shock on my parents face when it slipped out one weekend they were visiting. i could see the hurt in my mom's face so i quickly took it back. the worst part that made me feel even guiltier? i meant it.
home for me has become so much more than four walls that hold my memories. home is now defined by people, places, emotions, and so much more. memories with significance have become my home, not the place where those significant memories were made.
then again, i have the luxury of speaking this way because i do have a place to return every night. meanwhile, those people with thousands of amazing experiences long for a place to call home. everyone knows that children are better off with a permanent set of walls. and even with this job search, i'm certain that being able to fill out the lines under "address" makes me a better candidate that someone who can't. this, too, is a result of my home, where i was taught to never settle for the hand i've been given.
but maybe it's not because i've been looking at it for too long, but because i'm seeing it for the first time. is this home? this quintessential house in suburbia that i remember as the place where i fought to be noticed as the middle child and fought the enemy of teenage-dom known as acne, the place where i was never sure of myself or what the outside world contained. considering that we are a society that always notices the bad, why do we put so much emphasis on home when some of our hardest days are spent in that very place? doubts about who we are, what we can do, self-image, self worth all arise in the home, according to freud. so why such an emphasis on "home is where the heart is?"
one thing that college has taught me is the transience of this label. one month into my freshmen year, i started calling my impersonal-and-lacking-any-kind-of-privacy dorm room home. i remember the shock on my parents face when it slipped out one weekend they were visiting. i could see the hurt in my mom's face so i quickly took it back. the worst part that made me feel even guiltier? i meant it.
home for me has become so much more than four walls that hold my memories. home is now defined by people, places, emotions, and so much more. memories with significance have become my home, not the place where those significant memories were made.
then again, i have the luxury of speaking this way because i do have a place to return every night. meanwhile, those people with thousands of amazing experiences long for a place to call home. everyone knows that children are better off with a permanent set of walls. and even with this job search, i'm certain that being able to fill out the lines under "address" makes me a better candidate that someone who can't. this, too, is a result of my home, where i was taught to never settle for the hand i've been given.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Chapter 67: Alumnus.
returning to one's alma mater is an interesting experience. i didn't quite expect how conflicted i would feel when i stepped back on to the campus of the university of pennsylvania last week after having graduated from there in may. on the one hand, i was thrilled to be back at the place where i i felt so free, so light, so like myself. college was, for me, the first place i was ever free to really be myself. i'm sure many other people equate college with freedom, but i'm not talking about the freedom that comes from binge drinking and partying. i mean the feeling of finding your interests and who you would like to be one day.
on the other hand, i was miffed at it's sudden change of heart. after four years of loyalty, that very same alma mater gave me my two weeks notice and told me to get the hell out. i'm not sure i can ever forgive it for ruthlessly and unceremoniously throwing me out to make room for its new lover, the class of 2013. (don't bother doing the math, they are young. let's just leave it at that.)
the first thing i realized? i'd forgotten things. getting out of the subway, i was suddenly very unsure of where i was and where i was going. were the streets the same? the stores? the people? i wasn't sure, but 5 seconds later, my feet grew accustomed and started walking to where i needed to go. never did i think that i would forget those places there seemed ingrained into my very skin.
i hate to say it, but i guess college was a temporary state of mind. i think i only realized that once i went back and suddenly, i didn't belong. time to move on, it seems.
on the other hand, i was miffed at it's sudden change of heart. after four years of loyalty, that very same alma mater gave me my two weeks notice and told me to get the hell out. i'm not sure i can ever forgive it for ruthlessly and unceremoniously throwing me out to make room for its new lover, the class of 2013. (don't bother doing the math, they are young. let's just leave it at that.)
the first thing i realized? i'd forgotten things. getting out of the subway, i was suddenly very unsure of where i was and where i was going. were the streets the same? the stores? the people? i wasn't sure, but 5 seconds later, my feet grew accustomed and started walking to where i needed to go. never did i think that i would forget those places there seemed ingrained into my very skin.
i hate to say it, but i guess college was a temporary state of mind. i think i only realized that once i went back and suddenly, i didn't belong. time to move on, it seems.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Chapter 66: Almost.
i hate the word "almost." to me, it's the equivalent of a kick in the crotch AFTER getting a right hook to the face and subsequent black eye. not only is the fact that you didn't get something being referenced, but it's also saying that you would have gotten what it is you wanted... except you didn't.
almost doesn't really make anything better so no one should be allowed to say it. to say that one "almost won a prize" essentially means that he or she didn't win. wasn't that the objective? it's wasn't to be in second place, but to be in first. there are really no compromises in that arena: the opposite of winning is losing, not almost winning.
almost doesn't really make anything better so no one should be allowed to say it. to say that one "almost won a prize" essentially means that he or she didn't win. wasn't that the objective? it's wasn't to be in second place, but to be in first. there are really no compromises in that arena: the opposite of winning is losing, not almost winning.
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