Please listen and love. (:
14 November 2009
10 November 2009
08 November 2009
03 November 2009
Thoughts, unfiltered.
I woke up this morning with a thought in my head, a strangely blissful in-between of sleep and awake and awareness. And so instead of really trying to grasp at the details of that thought, which I think would have ruined the moment, I just grabbed a pen, my journal, and wrote. And these are the thoughts coursing through my head:
I'm in New York City. I live, breathe, smell this town in a way that I never thought I'd get a chance to. Every November, as the holidays draw closer and the prospect of returning "home" begins to fade back into my consciousness, I stop. And think. About how a whole year has gone by, and what I did last year at this point in the semester (because back then, my life was measured in semesters) and what I was most concerned with at that point in time, what made me happiest and what I had envisioned for the future. Because I think what you worry about at a given stage of your life tells a lot about what's the most important thing on your mind at the moment.
And this thinking makes me grateful. Because at this time last year I think I was starting to unravel a little bit. There was the stress of trying to stay on top of classwork while interning in Beverly Hills at a job where I could tell the other employees were miserable; the impending panic of being able to find a job or have a more defined direction before graduation; the creeping feeling that I was running on empty because my mind was just veering in too many directions at once. I remember the break-in in San Francisco, the break-down in my apartment, the unabashed tumble of emotions as I tried to figure out why I was so internally stressed and still so adamantly in denial.
To say that a lot has happened in the past year is perhaps a moot point - of course it has. So perhaps a better thing to say is that a lot has simultaneously shifted and solidified within the last few months. As of the end of October, I've been in NYC for just over five months, and there are so many emotions associated with that anniversary of sorts.
Life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward.
I was so focused on other people's lives and helping them out so as to avoid taking a good hard glimpse at my own life and figuring out how to fix any outstanding problems. Spend time catching up with friends over dinner or a drink? It was preferential to actually studying for exams or finishing up projects, or heaven forbid, reflecting. I've always grown up as a nostalgic child, looking to the past and trying to figure out how to recreate it in my head so that it fits the mold of the steps that have taken me to where I am now, if that makes any sense. In other words, seeing my current position for what it was - at the time, on the brink of meltdown - meant that I wanted look back on my upbringing and my personality and see what it was that caused me to be so discontent at that point.
And everything pointed to two things. First, I was raised to be a perfectionist - follow-through and initiative were drilled into me from a young age. If I didn't know the answer to something, I just had to ask. And there was never any question about whether or not I would be able to accomplish something I put my mind to. I was fortunate enough to grow up surrounded by positive influences and strong role models. Failure was not something I knew, though potential was. Too many teachers, too many people always saying that I had "potential" - untapped potential - to do something. It took all the way until high school to fully understand what that meant. Potential. The only thing stopping me? Myself.
I was shy beyond words. I would hide behind a book, prefer silence and awkwardness to trying to get to know other people. But while I might not have gotten to know other people very well, I knew my own personality inside and out. My likes, my dislikes. My fears, my talents, my weaknesses. All this plays into the here and the now, the fact that I'm striving to become a journalist, a profession that thrives on, honestly, learning about yourself through other people. The focus, on the outside, is off me. I'm a reporter: I absorb, I learn, I teach. Who would have thought that a profession that's so notoriously people-friendly would in the end begin to turn me introspected again?
The point is this. At this time last year, I was doing a lot of reflecting, about how I had become the type of person that I was, just mulling over my shortcomings, questioning my own motives to stay busy and stop thinking, but today...today, so much has changed. This year I reflect on being in New York and about how my experiences have shaped me. How being independent and stubborn in my beliefs, naive at times to the ways of the world, has gotten me this far. I know people say it's a combination of luck and skill that guarantees success (and what does that word mean, even?), but I also know that I can only control one half of that equation. Sometimes I do genuinely wonder how I got to where I am, able to talk to celebrities and big-shot editors without so much as a flinch. How did that even happen?
I do know this, though: I learned early on that if you don't ask, you'll never know. So these days, I'm just asking myself more questions than usual.
I'm in New York City. I live, breathe, smell this town in a way that I never thought I'd get a chance to. Every November, as the holidays draw closer and the prospect of returning "home" begins to fade back into my consciousness, I stop. And think. About how a whole year has gone by, and what I did last year at this point in the semester (because back then, my life was measured in semesters) and what I was most concerned with at that point in time, what made me happiest and what I had envisioned for the future. Because I think what you worry about at a given stage of your life tells a lot about what's the most important thing on your mind at the moment.
And this thinking makes me grateful. Because at this time last year I think I was starting to unravel a little bit. There was the stress of trying to stay on top of classwork while interning in Beverly Hills at a job where I could tell the other employees were miserable; the impending panic of being able to find a job or have a more defined direction before graduation; the creeping feeling that I was running on empty because my mind was just veering in too many directions at once. I remember the break-in in San Francisco, the break-down in my apartment, the unabashed tumble of emotions as I tried to figure out why I was so internally stressed and still so adamantly in denial.
To say that a lot has happened in the past year is perhaps a moot point - of course it has. So perhaps a better thing to say is that a lot has simultaneously shifted and solidified within the last few months. As of the end of October, I've been in NYC for just over five months, and there are so many emotions associated with that anniversary of sorts.
Life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward.
I was so focused on other people's lives and helping them out so as to avoid taking a good hard glimpse at my own life and figuring out how to fix any outstanding problems. Spend time catching up with friends over dinner or a drink? It was preferential to actually studying for exams or finishing up projects, or heaven forbid, reflecting. I've always grown up as a nostalgic child, looking to the past and trying to figure out how to recreate it in my head so that it fits the mold of the steps that have taken me to where I am now, if that makes any sense. In other words, seeing my current position for what it was - at the time, on the brink of meltdown - meant that I wanted look back on my upbringing and my personality and see what it was that caused me to be so discontent at that point.
And everything pointed to two things. First, I was raised to be a perfectionist - follow-through and initiative were drilled into me from a young age. If I didn't know the answer to something, I just had to ask. And there was never any question about whether or not I would be able to accomplish something I put my mind to. I was fortunate enough to grow up surrounded by positive influences and strong role models. Failure was not something I knew, though potential was. Too many teachers, too many people always saying that I had "potential" - untapped potential - to do something. It took all the way until high school to fully understand what that meant. Potential. The only thing stopping me? Myself.
I was shy beyond words. I would hide behind a book, prefer silence and awkwardness to trying to get to know other people. But while I might not have gotten to know other people very well, I knew my own personality inside and out. My likes, my dislikes. My fears, my talents, my weaknesses. All this plays into the here and the now, the fact that I'm striving to become a journalist, a profession that thrives on, honestly, learning about yourself through other people. The focus, on the outside, is off me. I'm a reporter: I absorb, I learn, I teach. Who would have thought that a profession that's so notoriously people-friendly would in the end begin to turn me introspected again?
The point is this. At this time last year, I was doing a lot of reflecting, about how I had become the type of person that I was, just mulling over my shortcomings, questioning my own motives to stay busy and stop thinking, but today...today, so much has changed. This year I reflect on being in New York and about how my experiences have shaped me. How being independent and stubborn in my beliefs, naive at times to the ways of the world, has gotten me this far. I know people say it's a combination of luck and skill that guarantees success (and what does that word mean, even?), but I also know that I can only control one half of that equation. Sometimes I do genuinely wonder how I got to where I am, able to talk to celebrities and big-shot editors without so much as a flinch. How did that even happen?
I do know this, though: I learned early on that if you don't ask, you'll never know. So these days, I'm just asking myself more questions than usual.
24 October 2009
Home, free.
I think, after nearly a month, I'm finally past the withdrawal period. When I first lost access to the Internet at my apartment, I didn't really know what to do with myself. After work, I would head home, spend about half an hour attempting to get the wireless to work, write for a bit, read a little, make a few calls and then kind of mull around and make lists of things I wasn't able to do without online access (sad but true, har har).
Now, though, I don't know quite what to do when I do get an extended period of time to troll the web. I browse a few sites and blogs, but consciously stay away from time-suck things like Facebook because I've grown so used to stealing just a few minutes worth of personal Internet use at the office (other than that, there's just too much work to be done!) that I'd rather just get what I need off the Internet and then log back into the real world.
I've somehow been given the rare opportunity to extricate myself from the digital realm, and after living life without the burden of the web for a bit, it'll be hard to go back. Thus far, the reasons not to be constantly plugged into other people's lives are outweighing all reasons to do so, and I kind of like it.
Remember Neo in The Matrix? Remember what a revolutionary idea it was at the time to imagine that our waking hours were actually part of a subconscious dream, and that our reality was some sort of bleak, technologically charged world? I know it sounds dramatic, but being cut off from social networking and chatting and everything and focusing in on the present - not just the now, but the HERE - is a little bit like that. Unsettling at first, but then refreshing and welcome.
Generally speaking, life is a little more productive this way, I'm more able to focus on my own goals and tasks, and I've eliminated so much of the white noise that's been permeating the day-to-day.
Yeah, it's a little harder to keep in touch with people this way, but it makes those infrequent phone calls and emails that much more poignant. And it helps to put quite a few things into perspective - split your focus among one too many things, allow yourself to be pulled in too many directions and your core can crumble pretty easily.
Now, though, I don't know quite what to do when I do get an extended period of time to troll the web. I browse a few sites and blogs, but consciously stay away from time-suck things like Facebook because I've grown so used to stealing just a few minutes worth of personal Internet use at the office (other than that, there's just too much work to be done!) that I'd rather just get what I need off the Internet and then log back into the real world.
I've somehow been given the rare opportunity to extricate myself from the digital realm, and after living life without the burden of the web for a bit, it'll be hard to go back. Thus far, the reasons not to be constantly plugged into other people's lives are outweighing all reasons to do so, and I kind of like it.
Remember Neo in The Matrix? Remember what a revolutionary idea it was at the time to imagine that our waking hours were actually part of a subconscious dream, and that our reality was some sort of bleak, technologically charged world? I know it sounds dramatic, but being cut off from social networking and chatting and everything and focusing in on the present - not just the now, but the HERE - is a little bit like that. Unsettling at first, but then refreshing and welcome.
Generally speaking, life is a little more productive this way, I'm more able to focus on my own goals and tasks, and I've eliminated so much of the white noise that's been permeating the day-to-day.
Yeah, it's a little harder to keep in touch with people this way, but it makes those infrequent phone calls and emails that much more poignant. And it helps to put quite a few things into perspective - split your focus among one too many things, allow yourself to be pulled in too many directions and your core can crumble pretty easily.
22 October 2009
16 October 2009
Life on standby
Okay, so life without the Internet is at once the best and worst thing to happen to me.
Just thought I'd say.
End.
Just thought I'd say.
End.
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