A long long time ago I wrote a blog entitled "A Thursday in the Life." I only composed it because I had no idea what to write that day. At the time I was a month into my 365 day blogging commitment, and I had grown so used to the daily ramblings that I felt compelled to stay true to it even when I felt uninspired.
Well, today I have a different tale to tell. I am inspired, indeed, but I have no commitment. However, I feel compelled just the same to share something within this space. So here it goes. A Thursday in the Life Take 2.
6:00 AM - Alarm goes off for the first time. I know the routine. I've set it to warn myself that in 30 minutes I will have to ascend into wakefulness. But for the next half an hour I can lie in bed and drift off into semi-coherent drowsiness.
6:30 AM - The dreaded alarm goes off its second time. My preferred schedule would have me up at 7:15 at the earliest, but I consent to waking up earlier knowing that the time I have to relax in the morning before heading off to work the day away is absolutely indispensable.
7:05 AM - It hits me, after being up for 30 minutes, that I am actually going to have to get out of my pajamas.
7:35 AM - I'm still in my pajamas, and I wearily leave behind my burrito blanket on the couch, knowing I have no choice but to find an outfit for the day.
7:45 AM - Call dad before I leave for work. One of the few nice parts of my day.
7:55 AM - Exiting the door to my apartment, I notice that - yet again - I haven't worn the appropriate number of layers. It may look like Southern California outside, but this is Northern California. You can count on seeing your breath in the cold morning air.
8:07 AM - Wasn't my train supposed to have arrived by now? I think to myself. Yes, but the Caltrain system seems to have no respect for punctuality or technological innovation, so I'm sat waiting for an extra 2 to 7 minutes.
8:15 AM - How is every seat on this train taken? Should I ask that guy with his backpack on the aisle seat to stop being a cotton-headed ninnymuggins?
8:30 AM - I'm late to work yet again. How about I walk at twice the pace to get to the office more quickly? Only if I want to sprain my calf muscles. Okay, nevermind, late it is.
8:55 AM - Hot chocolate break.
8:58 AM - Burnt my tongue. Ice water break.
9:00 AM - Tongue feels better. Hot chocolate break again.
9:30 AM - I'm a fact-checking intern so I should be on the phone right now. But I can do some internet research before I make the call, right?
11:00 AM - Still avoiding the phone.
12:00 PM - Makes first phone call after doing hours of internet research. Success.
12:30 PM - Wow, those phone calls were easy peasy. Everyone is so nice. I shouldn't fear the phone so much.
12:31 PM - Talks to an angry source who wants nothing to do with me and is pissed off no matter how I phrase questions.
12:32 PM - I'm so done with making phone calls. Email it is.
12:33 PM - Why does no one have an email address with their contact info? Is this 1998?
1:00 PM - Lunch time. Trader Joe's microwaveable meal. It does not get better than this.
1:30 PM - Maybe I can have another hot chocolate break before I go back to my desk?
2:00 PM - Reluctantly pick up the phone again, but then I make a call and am met with kindness. Faith in humanity: restored.
4:00 PM - Time has flown and I finally look at the clock only to realize I have just an hour left of work for the day.
5:00 PM - Goodbye, office! Must catch the next Caltrain at 5:16. Surely, it will be late...
5:15 PM - Approaches Caltrain station: Train leaves before 5:16. FML.
5:24 PM - Train is supposed to be approaching...
5:24:30 PM - Train is 3 minutes late.
5:27 PM - Train is 4 minutes late.
5:28 PM - Train is 7 minutes late.
5:28:30 PM - Train arrives. IDK, don't ask.
5:59 PM - Arrive home, look at clock, decide I have hours before I need to think about reality. Watch YouTube videos.
7:00 PM - I haven't had dinner and I'm still watching YouTube videos. I might find this embarrassing, but YouTube videos are one of the most underrated and valuable forms of entertainment that I believe exist today. They are incredibly creative, often very intelligent and thought-provoking, and always good for an end-of-day-wind-down.
7:30 PM - Resorts to making macaroni and cheese for dinner because I am an adult.
8:00 PM - Falls asleep on couch watching this week's episode of American Horror Story: Coven.
9:00 PM - Wakes up and feels the incredible urge to write a blog even though nothing interesting happens on a typical day of my life right now.
9:30 PM - Can I go to bed yet? No, you're writing a blog.
9:55 PM - Gives Dad a call to say goodnight. Another nice part of the day.
10:00 PM - Goodnight, Moon. See you again, tomorrow. Same time, same place.
So that's it. Unsurprisingly, work life is even less exhilarating than college life (the subject of the last Thursday in the Life blog). Still, it's nice to think that in a few months or years, I can look back on this and remember what it was like to live a day in my life in the beginning of 2014. It may not be the most exciting read, the most exciting day-to-day experience, but it's part of who I am.
We are the sum of our experiences, right? And if this little blip in my timeline is going to take me onto something way greater - and let's face it, there's definitely room for improvement - well then, why shouldn't I document it?
Goodnight, Moon. Goodnight, people. Goodnight until tomorrow.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Saturday, January 18, 2014
The update you may or may not be waiting for
Hello people. Hello whoever you are, out there, sitting at your computer, on your phone or on your tablet, staring at this text and letting me enter your life if only for a few minutes.
Before you get started reading this, can I just say thank you? Just for taking any time, even if it just means clicking the link and then clicking away. Thank you. If, on the other hand, you've read a great many of these blogs and taken even more than a minute of time to let them into your mind - I'm forever indebted. I love reading other people's thoughts and that anyone has any interest in mine brings me more joy than you could possibly know.
So anyway, I haven't been updating this writing space. And there's an explanation for that. One that you may or may not have been wondering about.
2013 is now over and I guess I feel safe saying that it was one of the most trying years of my life. A lot of my steps toward the pursuit of a lifetime of happiness have been upended, and though there are many valuable philosophical principles you can learn from having a rough time in your life, that doesn't make the trouble of getting through that time any easier.
I'm sure 20 and 21 are common years for identity crises, but as someone who never had any questions as to what her life was all about, it came on a bit suddenly.
Now I'm sitting here, in an apartment in the South Bay near San Francisco and I just keep thinking Well, this wasn't part of the plan, was it? What is this, then?
But that's life, isn't it? It's all about taking the steps to get somewhere, and along the way discovering new things. I'm discovering a brand new place to live, I'm meeting new people, I'm feeling really scared...about 99.9 percent of the time.
Which leads me to think that even though the space between the end of 2012 and the beginning of 2014 was the hardest I've had to deal with, it's also been the most formative. Feeling scared is better than feeling complacent. So many times in the past I dreamed of the next step and felt contented to know that it was there, but that until it arrived I could live in this in-between time without any firm expectations for the present.
Now it's all about what the next step is. And for once that next step is not part of the conveyor belt, it's not steady and planned out. And that's the scariest thing I can imagine, personally. I feel like I'm walking into a dark room, arms outstretched. Any minute I could bump into a wall, or trip over something hard and land flat on my face.
I think the uncertainty is why I've been afraid to write much lately. I don't feel the stability I once did - and that makes it more difficult to reflect.
I've also started to realize that I barely know myself. And that sometimes even when you think you have a firm grasp of who you are or what you want, you can be incredibly mistaken. Completely off the correct path to understanding. Maybe even on the wrong planet.
I wouldn't say I'm on Neptune or anything, but I've definitely had to reassess what it is I want, need and expect from day-to-day life.
Which brings us back to the "what's the next step?" question that haunts my dreams.
The answer is: I don't know. And it's a common one amongst people my age. For a long time we might've believed that a job or a grad school or a spouse (or whatever) would be there waiting for us when we graduated. The next step would be drawn out for us. For some, maybe it is. For others, it's completely up in the air.
I'm one of the latter. And it's partially by choice.
The update I've been meaning to give is one that I haven't been able to quite figure out yet. Because I don't even know what it is I'm doing, or what I'm thinking, or where I'm going.
And what is the point of writing a personal blog if all you have to say about the life is a long "uhh" accompanied by a shrug?
But what comforts me and inspires me to write this regardless of where I'm at is the realization that people are out there feeling the same things I am. And that the update that I haven't been able to give until now is one that can resonate with other people.
Even people who think they have it all together - my past self included - may not have much of anything figured out. And I like to think that's why we're allowed to make mistakes right now, because even if we feel we have these almighty clairvoyant powers, in an instant we might discover that they're absolutely and undeniably incorrect.
Well I was incorrect for a long time, and this brief span of difficult trail is going to, hopefully, get me back on the right track.
So that's the update you may or may not have been waiting for. If you have been waiting, then I thank you. If you haven't, then thank you anyway. Thank you for caring.
Before you get started reading this, can I just say thank you? Just for taking any time, even if it just means clicking the link and then clicking away. Thank you. If, on the other hand, you've read a great many of these blogs and taken even more than a minute of time to let them into your mind - I'm forever indebted. I love reading other people's thoughts and that anyone has any interest in mine brings me more joy than you could possibly know.
So anyway, I haven't been updating this writing space. And there's an explanation for that. One that you may or may not have been wondering about.
2013 is now over and I guess I feel safe saying that it was one of the most trying years of my life. A lot of my steps toward the pursuit of a lifetime of happiness have been upended, and though there are many valuable philosophical principles you can learn from having a rough time in your life, that doesn't make the trouble of getting through that time any easier.
I'm sure 20 and 21 are common years for identity crises, but as someone who never had any questions as to what her life was all about, it came on a bit suddenly.
Now I'm sitting here, in an apartment in the South Bay near San Francisco and I just keep thinking Well, this wasn't part of the plan, was it? What is this, then?
But that's life, isn't it? It's all about taking the steps to get somewhere, and along the way discovering new things. I'm discovering a brand new place to live, I'm meeting new people, I'm feeling really scared...about 99.9 percent of the time.
Which leads me to think that even though the space between the end of 2012 and the beginning of 2014 was the hardest I've had to deal with, it's also been the most formative. Feeling scared is better than feeling complacent. So many times in the past I dreamed of the next step and felt contented to know that it was there, but that until it arrived I could live in this in-between time without any firm expectations for the present.
Now it's all about what the next step is. And for once that next step is not part of the conveyor belt, it's not steady and planned out. And that's the scariest thing I can imagine, personally. I feel like I'm walking into a dark room, arms outstretched. Any minute I could bump into a wall, or trip over something hard and land flat on my face.
I think the uncertainty is why I've been afraid to write much lately. I don't feel the stability I once did - and that makes it more difficult to reflect.
I've also started to realize that I barely know myself. And that sometimes even when you think you have a firm grasp of who you are or what you want, you can be incredibly mistaken. Completely off the correct path to understanding. Maybe even on the wrong planet.
I wouldn't say I'm on Neptune or anything, but I've definitely had to reassess what it is I want, need and expect from day-to-day life.
Which brings us back to the "what's the next step?" question that haunts my dreams.
The answer is: I don't know. And it's a common one amongst people my age. For a long time we might've believed that a job or a grad school or a spouse (or whatever) would be there waiting for us when we graduated. The next step would be drawn out for us. For some, maybe it is. For others, it's completely up in the air.
I'm one of the latter. And it's partially by choice.
The update I've been meaning to give is one that I haven't been able to quite figure out yet. Because I don't even know what it is I'm doing, or what I'm thinking, or where I'm going.
And what is the point of writing a personal blog if all you have to say about the life is a long "uhh" accompanied by a shrug?
But what comforts me and inspires me to write this regardless of where I'm at is the realization that people are out there feeling the same things I am. And that the update that I haven't been able to give until now is one that can resonate with other people.
Even people who think they have it all together - my past self included - may not have much of anything figured out. And I like to think that's why we're allowed to make mistakes right now, because even if we feel we have these almighty clairvoyant powers, in an instant we might discover that they're absolutely and undeniably incorrect.
Well I was incorrect for a long time, and this brief span of difficult trail is going to, hopefully, get me back on the right track.
So that's the update you may or may not have been waiting for. If you have been waiting, then I thank you. If you haven't, then thank you anyway. Thank you for caring.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
My therapist and me
Have you ever been to therapy? If not, you might not understand this. Not that your previous experience with something should decide whether or not to read about it, but I do think that some things are best experienced in reality rather than in text. Still - because of how I felt today, walking away from my first-ever therapist and thinking about the past few weeks of pouring my heart out - I wanted to write about it. Maybe you'll connect, maybe not.
A few months ago, I wrote a blog called "How I feel before letting it all out." This was a really important blog for me - and even though it was fairly cryptic and didn't say much - it involved one of the biggest changes in my life.
Up until now, I've always felt like a very strong person. I have been able to tackle all my problems by myself, nothing has kept me down. When I was 11, my mom had a stroke. I was able to withstand the unbearable pain. At 15, she passed away. I was heartbroken, but I got through it. I skidded past the horrible years of high school awkwardness, hours of spending too much time on homework, feelings of being an outcast in my little upper middle class suburban society.
Well all those trials of youth couldn't have prepared me for the intense identity crisis that would take place in the past couple of years. It had nothing to do with school, nothing to do with friends, nothing to do with family. Honestly, as trivial as it may seem, it had to do with boys. And it made me feel incredibly ridiculous that I was going around shouldering all the anguish of a troubled life prior, yet a little thing like a break-up could run me over the edge. I was getting anxiety attacks, I was feeling depressed and lonely, I was purposely alienating people I loved.
So I finally decided to seek help. And I had high hopes, I really believed it would change me. Which is why I wrote that blog in October.
And it did.
After two months of sessions, I think I finally know what it means to accept myself.
That isn't to say I have accepted myself. That's an on-going process, and one I'm sure I'll struggle with for the rest of my life. But for the first time, I see that I'm not a bad, stupid or ridiculous person. And that even though falling in love and being broken-hearted could make me feel like less of who I was, I had the power to bring myself out of that.
All of this thanks to once-a-week hour-long sessions that, in the grand scheme of things, might seem like a small blip on my timeline. Yet they were more significant than many other things in my life, even the relationships and break-ups that inspired them.
I don't know if most people have as wonderful an experience as I did with my first therapist. At first I was surprised to end up speaking with her - when I think of going in for psychological help I immediately picture a older man or woman in a white lab coat with a chaise lounge in a dimly lit room. That wasn't how my sessions were at all. My therapist was young, she wore really smart clothing and always looked really pretty too. The sessions themselves were engaging - face to face in upright chairs - requiring me to be present. Not that that's difficult for me anyway. Instead of being intimidated, I felt free to be open. The space in front of me was mine to inhabit and there was someone on the other end listening.
And I was thankful. Because the listener was someone with a calming presence, someone who in my moments of intense emotion could show me that she cared without making me feel like I was expressing too much.
Every Tuesday I'd go in with my list of grievances from the past week. I'd build them up, worry about them and then put them aside, knowing that there was a space to let them go where I could actually make sense of them rather than let them burrow into my heart. It felt good to let even the most detrimental of thoughts turn into something worthwhile and positive.
I would often find myself on the verge of venting to my friends and family, and then stop for a moment and say "this is something I'm going to bring up in therapy." It wasn't a defensive move, though, it was just my way of saying I shouldn't be worried about this. It can be worked out, and I know who can help me.
Moving forward I realize that while my therapist was the person I meant, that person who can help me will eventually have to be me. Even if I continue to go to therapy with another counselor, or talk to friends and family about my problems, it will always come down to how I deal with things.
But leaving behind this chapter in my path toward personal understanding wasn't made any easier knowing that I was being left to my own devices - even though I know I'm capable of handling them better than I ever have been before.
I walked away from that last session with my first-ever therapist feeling really happy that I'd had the luck to be given someone to talk to for a few months who could provide me with just the right perceptiveness, just the right tone and just the right perspective to make me feel safe and actually let the counseling take me somewhere good. And even though I cried to myself and wished that the person I'd spent months detailing my past to could be my best friend and confidante, it was a good kind of crying. Because unlike losing people in the past, this was leaving behind someone whose presence was nothing but good, but whose absence might even empower me to be stronger.
That isn't to say that I'm happy about not getting to meet with my therapist again. In my heart, I do wish that this could continue and I'd never have to stop, just so I could retain the feeling of comfort that I felt after leaving each appointment. And if permitted, I would certainly keep in contact however possible.
The reason, though, that I wrote at the beginning of this blog how this is a feeling some people just might not understand is that it's a really strangely bittersweet experience. I'm leaving behind someone who has made the most positive impact on my life as of late, and the emotions around that are two-fold. They're positive in that I'm glad that I can even say I've had a good experience, and they're negative in that I don't know that I'm fully ready to move on. Losing anyone is something I have and will continue to struggle with for the rest of my life.
So maybe you've felt how I feel, or maybe you haven't, but what anyone can understand is how wonderful it is to know that there's someone you can trust in the world - someone who respects you and listens to you and will give you their honest opinion in a way that never makes you feel trivialized or stupid.
That's what a therapist should be. That's what a friend should be too. And I feel like I had a friend in my therapist, even if it was only for a short time. So this is my thank you to her. Your presence in my life has been indispensable and I'm sad to have to do so now.
A few months ago, I wrote a blog called "How I feel before letting it all out." This was a really important blog for me - and even though it was fairly cryptic and didn't say much - it involved one of the biggest changes in my life.
Up until now, I've always felt like a very strong person. I have been able to tackle all my problems by myself, nothing has kept me down. When I was 11, my mom had a stroke. I was able to withstand the unbearable pain. At 15, she passed away. I was heartbroken, but I got through it. I skidded past the horrible years of high school awkwardness, hours of spending too much time on homework, feelings of being an outcast in my little upper middle class suburban society.
Well all those trials of youth couldn't have prepared me for the intense identity crisis that would take place in the past couple of years. It had nothing to do with school, nothing to do with friends, nothing to do with family. Honestly, as trivial as it may seem, it had to do with boys. And it made me feel incredibly ridiculous that I was going around shouldering all the anguish of a troubled life prior, yet a little thing like a break-up could run me over the edge. I was getting anxiety attacks, I was feeling depressed and lonely, I was purposely alienating people I loved.
So I finally decided to seek help. And I had high hopes, I really believed it would change me. Which is why I wrote that blog in October.
And it did.
After two months of sessions, I think I finally know what it means to accept myself.
That isn't to say I have accepted myself. That's an on-going process, and one I'm sure I'll struggle with for the rest of my life. But for the first time, I see that I'm not a bad, stupid or ridiculous person. And that even though falling in love and being broken-hearted could make me feel like less of who I was, I had the power to bring myself out of that.
All of this thanks to once-a-week hour-long sessions that, in the grand scheme of things, might seem like a small blip on my timeline. Yet they were more significant than many other things in my life, even the relationships and break-ups that inspired them.
I don't know if most people have as wonderful an experience as I did with my first therapist. At first I was surprised to end up speaking with her - when I think of going in for psychological help I immediately picture a older man or woman in a white lab coat with a chaise lounge in a dimly lit room. That wasn't how my sessions were at all. My therapist was young, she wore really smart clothing and always looked really pretty too. The sessions themselves were engaging - face to face in upright chairs - requiring me to be present. Not that that's difficult for me anyway. Instead of being intimidated, I felt free to be open. The space in front of me was mine to inhabit and there was someone on the other end listening.
And I was thankful. Because the listener was someone with a calming presence, someone who in my moments of intense emotion could show me that she cared without making me feel like I was expressing too much.
Every Tuesday I'd go in with my list of grievances from the past week. I'd build them up, worry about them and then put them aside, knowing that there was a space to let them go where I could actually make sense of them rather than let them burrow into my heart. It felt good to let even the most detrimental of thoughts turn into something worthwhile and positive.
I would often find myself on the verge of venting to my friends and family, and then stop for a moment and say "this is something I'm going to bring up in therapy." It wasn't a defensive move, though, it was just my way of saying I shouldn't be worried about this. It can be worked out, and I know who can help me.
Moving forward I realize that while my therapist was the person I meant, that person who can help me will eventually have to be me. Even if I continue to go to therapy with another counselor, or talk to friends and family about my problems, it will always come down to how I deal with things.
But leaving behind this chapter in my path toward personal understanding wasn't made any easier knowing that I was being left to my own devices - even though I know I'm capable of handling them better than I ever have been before.
I walked away from that last session with my first-ever therapist feeling really happy that I'd had the luck to be given someone to talk to for a few months who could provide me with just the right perceptiveness, just the right tone and just the right perspective to make me feel safe and actually let the counseling take me somewhere good. And even though I cried to myself and wished that the person I'd spent months detailing my past to could be my best friend and confidante, it was a good kind of crying. Because unlike losing people in the past, this was leaving behind someone whose presence was nothing but good, but whose absence might even empower me to be stronger.
That isn't to say that I'm happy about not getting to meet with my therapist again. In my heart, I do wish that this could continue and I'd never have to stop, just so I could retain the feeling of comfort that I felt after leaving each appointment. And if permitted, I would certainly keep in contact however possible.
The reason, though, that I wrote at the beginning of this blog how this is a feeling some people just might not understand is that it's a really strangely bittersweet experience. I'm leaving behind someone who has made the most positive impact on my life as of late, and the emotions around that are two-fold. They're positive in that I'm glad that I can even say I've had a good experience, and they're negative in that I don't know that I'm fully ready to move on. Losing anyone is something I have and will continue to struggle with for the rest of my life.
So maybe you've felt how I feel, or maybe you haven't, but what anyone can understand is how wonderful it is to know that there's someone you can trust in the world - someone who respects you and listens to you and will give you their honest opinion in a way that never makes you feel trivialized or stupid.
That's what a therapist should be. That's what a friend should be too. And I feel like I had a friend in my therapist, even if it was only for a short time. So this is my thank you to her. Your presence in my life has been indispensable and I'm sad to have to do so now.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
The worst word ever
Death.
Now there's an idea I don't like to think about very much. But there's something really poignant in seeing that word - or even thinking about it. It's so final. For some people the idea of the "after" is a refuge, but it's what I fear the most.
When you're someone who thinks a lot about the future, the inevitability of death often occurs to you. If you're like me, you shrug it off, reminding yourself that you have years and years until that's even a concern. But little things can remind you of your mortality. Like watching a movie or listening to a song or thinking about your own past, even.
I compounded all the possible paths to thinking about "the end" tonight. Starting with watching the movie Seeking A Friend for the End of the World, continuing by thinking of how my mom passed away at a relatively young age and finally listening to Amy Winehouse's cover of "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?" For those who aren't acquainted with Amy Winehouse, she passed away in 2011 at 27 years of age.
These different paths of thought didn't have any interconnectedness, really, except for their relationship with the inevitable.
It's not that death is something that scares me outright. I'm sure there are some people who fear the potential of pain, or the sting of loss. But, as many more insightful thinkers have expressed in the past, when you are the one passing on, you are entering a state of peace. The pain doesn't last, there are no stings when you can't feel a thing.
But now and forever, what I fear the most is the constant looming feeling of incompleteness.
It's a principle that guides my life. I force myself to unhealthy levels of stress to finish work quickly. I call upon others to be thorough and responsive to my needs - even when I'd be better off not expecting anything from anyone. I always want to feel like I am (and I am surrounded by) a state of equilibrium.
Yet I recognize the fact that there will never be a moment in my life when I am fully happy with where I am, what I'm doing, who I'm with. It's part of human nature to always be striving for more. It's one of our best assets - that we dream of a better future. On the other hand, it's our greatest downfall, knowing that even our grandest achievements may never live up to expectations. We will keep trying to move forward, content to forget about the past no matter how successful we've been.
I worry tremendously that at the end of my days I will feel that what I've done isn't equal to what I want. There should be some balance, really. Maybe it's unrealistic, but I hope that at some moment in my lifetime I can look back and believe that where I've been is where I want to continue going - that the path I'm on is right and that the pleasure outranks the regret.
I wonder if as we grow older, we grow complacent about this whole concept. When we're young, we're raised to believe that the sky's the limit - we can achieve anything. So we expect to do something big. Once we're older, we must put our expectations in check more than ever. That, plus maturity, probably equals a bit more grounded perspective on what constitutes a meaningful life.
If that's not true, then the future looks bleak.
The most worrisome thing, when I consider all the thoughts that ran through my mind that brought me to this subject, is that we can't ask the people who've experienced death what their battle with the past was like leading up to it.
Since she passed away at 27, I can't imagine there was any sort of finality present in Amy Winehouse's life. It was a mistake, unintended and badly timed. How would she have felt looking back on her life, knowing that she would not live to see her 30s? With a blossoming music career, surely Amy Winehouse wasn't someone who achieved nothing. She'll long be remembered for her moody voice and eclectic music.
But if someone as successful as she could regret things, then where does that leave me? Or the rest of the planet's relative underachievers? Especially those among us who are unlucky enough to leave the Earth before they reach their "full potential."
The truth of this subject is that there isn't much of a silver lining to share. It's hard to feel positive about something that lurks around every corner and does nothing but bring sadness to our past, present and future mortal lives. All I know is that there has to be some conceivable expectation in life that, once met, will make death seem less frightening. Maybe it's having children, maybe it's becoming successful and wealthy, maybe it's owning 50 pairs of shoes. I don't know.
All I know is I haven't figured it out yet. And I hope I do. Because where I'm at is not good at the moment. Since I'm always looking toward the future to brighten up my present, more and more weight is being put on the future's future... which just means more and more pressure is being placed on me, even in terms of issues that I shouldn't be worrying about this month, this year or even this decade.
I don't think that considering this makes me a pessimist or a realist - just an ordinary thinking person. I imagine we all have fears about the future, and about the end as well. Unlike I've done before, pushing these thoughts into the deep recesses of my brain, I just decided to write them down. Freeing the thoughts is usually the most constructive option.
I hope this discussion didn't ruin your evening. And I hope that reading the word "Death" placed so ominously at the top of this page didn't put you in as foul and overwrought a mood as it put me in.
Because death is sort of (and I'm saying this honestly) a beautiful thing. We have a mostly definite timeline as humans, and that's what keeps us moving forward. We look toward the future because foresight makes us better people. By definition, the future will never seem complete. It just takes some power to accept that.
Now there's an idea I don't like to think about very much. But there's something really poignant in seeing that word - or even thinking about it. It's so final. For some people the idea of the "after" is a refuge, but it's what I fear the most.
When you're someone who thinks a lot about the future, the inevitability of death often occurs to you. If you're like me, you shrug it off, reminding yourself that you have years and years until that's even a concern. But little things can remind you of your mortality. Like watching a movie or listening to a song or thinking about your own past, even.
I compounded all the possible paths to thinking about "the end" tonight. Starting with watching the movie Seeking A Friend for the End of the World, continuing by thinking of how my mom passed away at a relatively young age and finally listening to Amy Winehouse's cover of "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?" For those who aren't acquainted with Amy Winehouse, she passed away in 2011 at 27 years of age.
These different paths of thought didn't have any interconnectedness, really, except for their relationship with the inevitable.
It's not that death is something that scares me outright. I'm sure there are some people who fear the potential of pain, or the sting of loss. But, as many more insightful thinkers have expressed in the past, when you are the one passing on, you are entering a state of peace. The pain doesn't last, there are no stings when you can't feel a thing.
But now and forever, what I fear the most is the constant looming feeling of incompleteness.
It's a principle that guides my life. I force myself to unhealthy levels of stress to finish work quickly. I call upon others to be thorough and responsive to my needs - even when I'd be better off not expecting anything from anyone. I always want to feel like I am (and I am surrounded by) a state of equilibrium.
Yet I recognize the fact that there will never be a moment in my life when I am fully happy with where I am, what I'm doing, who I'm with. It's part of human nature to always be striving for more. It's one of our best assets - that we dream of a better future. On the other hand, it's our greatest downfall, knowing that even our grandest achievements may never live up to expectations. We will keep trying to move forward, content to forget about the past no matter how successful we've been.
I worry tremendously that at the end of my days I will feel that what I've done isn't equal to what I want. There should be some balance, really. Maybe it's unrealistic, but I hope that at some moment in my lifetime I can look back and believe that where I've been is where I want to continue going - that the path I'm on is right and that the pleasure outranks the regret.
I wonder if as we grow older, we grow complacent about this whole concept. When we're young, we're raised to believe that the sky's the limit - we can achieve anything. So we expect to do something big. Once we're older, we must put our expectations in check more than ever. That, plus maturity, probably equals a bit more grounded perspective on what constitutes a meaningful life.
If that's not true, then the future looks bleak.
The most worrisome thing, when I consider all the thoughts that ran through my mind that brought me to this subject, is that we can't ask the people who've experienced death what their battle with the past was like leading up to it.
Since she passed away at 27, I can't imagine there was any sort of finality present in Amy Winehouse's life. It was a mistake, unintended and badly timed. How would she have felt looking back on her life, knowing that she would not live to see her 30s? With a blossoming music career, surely Amy Winehouse wasn't someone who achieved nothing. She'll long be remembered for her moody voice and eclectic music.
But if someone as successful as she could regret things, then where does that leave me? Or the rest of the planet's relative underachievers? Especially those among us who are unlucky enough to leave the Earth before they reach their "full potential."
The truth of this subject is that there isn't much of a silver lining to share. It's hard to feel positive about something that lurks around every corner and does nothing but bring sadness to our past, present and future mortal lives. All I know is that there has to be some conceivable expectation in life that, once met, will make death seem less frightening. Maybe it's having children, maybe it's becoming successful and wealthy, maybe it's owning 50 pairs of shoes. I don't know.
All I know is I haven't figured it out yet. And I hope I do. Because where I'm at is not good at the moment. Since I'm always looking toward the future to brighten up my present, more and more weight is being put on the future's future... which just means more and more pressure is being placed on me, even in terms of issues that I shouldn't be worrying about this month, this year or even this decade.
I don't think that considering this makes me a pessimist or a realist - just an ordinary thinking person. I imagine we all have fears about the future, and about the end as well. Unlike I've done before, pushing these thoughts into the deep recesses of my brain, I just decided to write them down. Freeing the thoughts is usually the most constructive option.
I hope this discussion didn't ruin your evening. And I hope that reading the word "Death" placed so ominously at the top of this page didn't put you in as foul and overwrought a mood as it put me in.
Because death is sort of (and I'm saying this honestly) a beautiful thing. We have a mostly definite timeline as humans, and that's what keeps us moving forward. We look toward the future because foresight makes us better people. By definition, the future will never seem complete. It just takes some power to accept that.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Meeting me again
It's been a while, Mr. Bloggy McBloggerson.
And by that I mean it's been roughly a week. So it hasn't actually been that long. But seeing as the last several days of my life have been more for classwork than personal fulfillment, I figured it was time to do something for myself for a change. You're for me. Just for me.
I'm feeling pretty happy at this very moment. Which is really strange, actually. Today wasn't all that difficult in the grand scheme of things, but I wouldn't hasten to say it was stress-free either. There is so much work due in so little time, as many of my fellow students can empathize. It can feel like we're hamsters on wheels, running and running with no perceivable end to the madness. The classes, homework, projects, exams...they just keep going and going.
For this reason, I'm pretty darn confounded by my own positivity. I've been lounging most of the evening because I didn't have the enthusiasm to do anything worthwhile. But then I made a snap decision that kind of hurt my own feelings and perked me up at the same time. So things are looking up.
That being said, when I take a broader view I'm much much more afraid.
Yet I can't help but think that any time I devote to fear is a moment wasted. The next chapter in my life will come no matter what I do, and while I can affect change in it - worrying about something that is partially out of my hands will only drive me mad. Part of my future is what I choose to do, but the other part is what opportunities are open to me.
So maybe this positivity is a product of that final resolution that just because I'm not fully in control doesn't mean I need fret over the things I can't do anything about. It's like that prayer, which I will link to rather than stating to avoid overt cheesiness.
Or maybe it's that for the first time I actually feel sort of in control of my feelings. That's a bit of a strange explanation, but in a way it feels like up until now some impenetrable force has been lording over me. And now, for once, I'm pushing that force away.
I'm just a month away from returning home for winter break. I'm really close to graduating from college entirely. I'm so close to life. And I'm probably more insecure than ever before. But I also feel stronger. Because I don't think I've ever had to try as hard as I do now.
In high school I was so motivated. I was compelled to do my work and to do it well. I was hopeful to maintain good relationships with friends and family. I was eager to please.
I'm not that way anymore. Apathy has set in. Maybe it's senioritis, maybe it's just life. Whatever the case, when you're seeing the world with a nihilist's perspective, everything gets ten times harder. Even waking up in the morning can feel like being dragged out of bed by a figurative ball and chain. But making the choice to get up and do things - that's the proof that I'm still alive and I still have a purpose. Trying hard used to give me angst, but now it's an exercise in perseverance and strength.
So the fact that I'm happy is actually an enormously huge deal. Because I've had to work really hard to - even for a few minutes this evening - feel truly positive. Plenty of people are just slaves to their feelings and whims, and I've been one too, but that's changing slightly every day.
That's why I'm taking this as a good sign for the next few weeks, months and years. If I can be happy, even for just a moment, again. If I can stop letting the actions of others dictate how I am feeling. Well, maybe I'm on my way to actually being me again. I haven't been able to fully be me for a while, so I'm looking forward to meeting her again.
And by that I mean it's been roughly a week. So it hasn't actually been that long. But seeing as the last several days of my life have been more for classwork than personal fulfillment, I figured it was time to do something for myself for a change. You're for me. Just for me.
I'm feeling pretty happy at this very moment. Which is really strange, actually. Today wasn't all that difficult in the grand scheme of things, but I wouldn't hasten to say it was stress-free either. There is so much work due in so little time, as many of my fellow students can empathize. It can feel like we're hamsters on wheels, running and running with no perceivable end to the madness. The classes, homework, projects, exams...they just keep going and going.
For this reason, I'm pretty darn confounded by my own positivity. I've been lounging most of the evening because I didn't have the enthusiasm to do anything worthwhile. But then I made a snap decision that kind of hurt my own feelings and perked me up at the same time. So things are looking up.
That being said, when I take a broader view I'm much much more afraid.
Yet I can't help but think that any time I devote to fear is a moment wasted. The next chapter in my life will come no matter what I do, and while I can affect change in it - worrying about something that is partially out of my hands will only drive me mad. Part of my future is what I choose to do, but the other part is what opportunities are open to me.
So maybe this positivity is a product of that final resolution that just because I'm not fully in control doesn't mean I need fret over the things I can't do anything about. It's like that prayer, which I will link to rather than stating to avoid overt cheesiness.
Or maybe it's that for the first time I actually feel sort of in control of my feelings. That's a bit of a strange explanation, but in a way it feels like up until now some impenetrable force has been lording over me. And now, for once, I'm pushing that force away.
I'm just a month away from returning home for winter break. I'm really close to graduating from college entirely. I'm so close to life. And I'm probably more insecure than ever before. But I also feel stronger. Because I don't think I've ever had to try as hard as I do now.
In high school I was so motivated. I was compelled to do my work and to do it well. I was hopeful to maintain good relationships with friends and family. I was eager to please.
I'm not that way anymore. Apathy has set in. Maybe it's senioritis, maybe it's just life. Whatever the case, when you're seeing the world with a nihilist's perspective, everything gets ten times harder. Even waking up in the morning can feel like being dragged out of bed by a figurative ball and chain. But making the choice to get up and do things - that's the proof that I'm still alive and I still have a purpose. Trying hard used to give me angst, but now it's an exercise in perseverance and strength.
So the fact that I'm happy is actually an enormously huge deal. Because I've had to work really hard to - even for a few minutes this evening - feel truly positive. Plenty of people are just slaves to their feelings and whims, and I've been one too, but that's changing slightly every day.
That's why I'm taking this as a good sign for the next few weeks, months and years. If I can be happy, even for just a moment, again. If I can stop letting the actions of others dictate how I am feeling. Well, maybe I'm on my way to actually being me again. I haven't been able to fully be me for a while, so I'm looking forward to meeting her again.
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