A day for old news

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Happy Valentine's Day.

If you're looking for a little humor and fun, read my "The ghosts of Valentine's past" post from 2012.

If you'd rather experience the revelation I had on this Valentine's Day (2015), stay tuned. You're in for a treat.

I have spent the last few years of my life making terrible choice after terrible choice, and it took a long time and a great deal of sadness to realize it. I dated the wrong people, I got caught up in relationships that meant little to me, I had trouble letting go. My heart dictated my actions, rather than my head. And as we know, the heart doesn't always have the firmest grasp of reality.

Today, I had the uniquely painful pleasure of encountering a photo that served as a blast from the past, despite being decidedly present. It was like a simultaneous blow to the gut and a punch in the old cranium. You may have guessed it, I saw a picture of my ex with his new girlfriend.

This ex is old news. He broke up with me months ago and it was hard for about a minute. The mourning period was short, but the self-esteem loss was penetrating. As anyone who has been broken up with knows all too well, the feeling of rejection is more powerful than logic. For some reason, when you lose someone, your heart decides to care about that person more than you ever thought possible. Suddenly you think "maybe I did love him?", even though when you were together, he made you feel like poking your eyeballs out with an ice pick.

Too many times in my few years of being a dating-girl, I've found myself falling for the wrong people, losing them, and never feeling the relief that I know I should. The loss of a significant other should be grieved, but then it should transition into positivity, freedom, even excitement.

Instead of embracing the promise of new opportunities, I've looked to the past as a shelter. I hid myself in memories and burrowed so deep into my cave of past relationships that I stopped seeing my follow-up relationships for what they were, good or bad.

When I found myself dating someone new, the relationship became clouded by previous experiences. Nothing measured up, nothing was satisfactory. My heart was always looking backwards.

Some of my longest relationships have been with people I didn't actually care very much about. While I hoped to eventually feel a burning passion for them, it simply wasn't there from the start. Jaded by previous breakups, I saw new relationships as numbing agents.

While a relationship should be a stimulant, they were suppressants.

This Valentine's Day is the first in a while that I've been fully single. Last year, I was seeing someone (sort of). The year before, I'd been broken up with a week and a half before the holiday and was deep into my mourning period. In 2012, the wounds were still fresh from another breakup. This year, I finally realize that being alone is better than being with someone who may not be the right person anyway.

The number one rule in dating should be to save your love and enthusiasm for the right people. I want to build up my love until it bursts from my heart and allows me to fully engulf the person on the receiving end of it. Why bother with someone who can only make me feel so-so, when I know I have the capacity to feel so much more?

To my mind, Valentine's Day is really about being with the people who accept you and believe in you unconditionally. The exes of my past did not offer me that, so who cares? They're old news.

Yet by being careful and pursuing quality, I'm promising myself to have only good news to tell next Valentine's Day, and every Valentine's Day after that.

Saving you

Seven years ago, I got a phone call from my mom. I missed it. It went to voicemail.

When I listened to it, she was asking to see me. There was sadness in her voice. She was lonely. We'd been apart for a long time. She had a stroke a few years earlier and could no longer take care of me. Our time together went from daily to weekly at most. 

She left me that voicemail, and the next day she died.

It stayed in my phone for a long time. I never deleted it. Eventually the phone stopped working and all of its content, including the message, was lost. The last time I'd ever hear the voice of my mother during her lifetime, disappeared into the void of a dead Sidekick.

Recently, I was listening to the NPR TED Radio Hour podcast, an episode called Keeping Secrets. In the first segment of the episode, Frank Warren spoke about his project PostSecret, an online community where people send their secrets written on artful postcards to Warren who then curates and publishes contributions to the website. During his TED Talks, Warren read the following secret:

"When people I love leave voicemails on my phone, I always save them in case they die tomorrow and I have no other way of hearing their voice ever again." (Frank Warren / PostSecret)

As I listened to this secret read aloud, I discovered something about myself. I then began to melt into a pool of my own tears.

My mom's passing came so suddenly that her voicemail felt like a mummified version of her final moments. I kept it like a warm blanket on a cold day - a protectant from the terrible road ahead. If it stayed on the phone, it was like nothing had happened.

But as we all must do with most things, I had to let go of the message.

Then today, the thought of that voicemail hit me like a ton of bricks. Not just because I'd lost it, but because I realized that like the person who wrote the secret, and like many others, I never delete my voicemails.

And it's not because I'm lazy, or because there are important notices held within.

A few months ago I noticed my phone's voicemail was about to reach capacity. As I looked at the list of saved messages, I first deleted the ones that were from businesses. Then I removed the ones from distant acquaintances. But I couldn't convince myself to dispose of some and it occurred to me today just why that is.

Because I don't want to lose the voicemail sarcophagi of the people I love.

But by doing this, I have rendered myself unable to properly live in the present.

My present is like a ticking clock, swallowed up by the past and future. Each tick is a reminder that another second has passed and that less time remains.

I don't want to live this way, to base my happiness on the things I cannot change. But the fear of loss is so all-consuming, that saving everything is like a child's pacifier, a temporary fix.

In the years since my mom passed, I've been able to let go of the lost voicemail. I've found her in other places - home movies, old greeting cards, little trinkets she gave me. And rather than remind me of my loss, they remind me of her life.

So maybe these final voicemails aren't the right way to go about things. Though we may find solace in their keeping, the important memories are held in the moments we lived with our loved ones, not the moments we spent worrying about them and trying desperately to save them.

These days, I take a lot of videos and photos of my family. I look back regularly through my iPhone camera roll and enjoy the memories, even if they happened just days before.

There really is no time like the present to appreciate the people you have around you. And that method of saving is, in my opinion, very worth doing.

Je Suis Charlie: In the wake of tragedy

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It seems to me that when we as a society are at our most vulnerable, we are also at our best.

Yesterday, people all around the world gathered as one to commemorate the innocents who lost their lives to a terrifying act that would be far better off as a work of fiction. Those who died in the wake of the shooting at the office of Charlie Hebdo, a French satirical newspaper, did not deserve the fate they met.

Many honored in their own fashion, and I'd like to share some thoughts as well. While I may not have the artistic talent to create such poignant and beautiful creations as the cartoonists and artists who paid tribute to the victims of January 7, 2015, I hope to do the topic some justice.

This has been a terrifying day not only for those directly affected or for the Parisian people, but for anyone who believes in the public's right to a free press and the personal right to free speech.

In America, these freedoms are points of immense pride. But this is an emotion held throughout the world as a principle of humanity. If we are to live fulfilled lives, we deserve certain rights - chief among them the right to expression.

Today, our universal right of free speech was challenged. Extremists have suggested that no matter what our laws or our civil society guarantee us, our safety is not guaranteed. It's a haunting thought.

Even those who take issue against the editorial choices of Charlie Hebdo cannot deny humanity's innate right to expression. As controversial as the publication may be, no one should be put in the literal line of fire for doing their job. These were not soldiers who died today, they were civilians. They never chose to sacrifice themselves. They made daring choices as writers and artists, but with no intention of becoming martyrs.

They had no choice to speak for themselves in the end, but we do.

As we all come together, in-person and in widespread digital communities, we should translate our mourning into something greater. This attack was one on both our fellow man and ourselves. It's a reminder that as safe as we may feel, we are never quite safe enough.

By saying "Je Suis Charlie" (or "I am Charlie"), we acknowledge that like the writers, editors and cartoonists of Charlie Hebdo, we too maintain the right to freedom of expression. And no matter who threatens us, there is power in numbers, and we will not be silenced.

A collection of resolutions

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Goodbye, This Year. Hello, New Year.

Unlike most people, I've never been one to make a New Year's Resolution. Partly out of laziness, but also because I've never understood why the dawn of a New Year was the prime time to make big changes.

My biggest life changes, from deciding where I wanted to go to college to becoming a full-fledged vegetarian, came about not because I'd been imbued with resolve by a holiday, but because I felt ready to make a choice and then pursued it.

However, this year I feel is a pretty big turning point. I've done a lot of guesswork in the past 365 days, gone through a lot of change and really had to figure out what it is I want out of life. What I choose now will determine what my life looks like down the road, and I want to do everything in my power to send myself down a smooth path.

So, without further ado, here is the collection of resolutions for my 2015:

1. Combat the sticks and stones.

When I reference this "smooth path," I make the mistake of assuming that any path of life can be without its rough patches. 2014 has been a year I'd characterize more by struggle than by growth, and I'd like to turn that around in 2015. Rather than trip over the sticks and stones that inevitably fall along my path, I'd like to learn to react and recover from them with ease.

Instead of being the person who wallows in her own misery, I'd like to be the one who laughs in the face of adversity. Those moments spent focused on self-pity are moments wasted. The moments spent fixing a bad situation lead to better and better experiences.

2. Think less about what other people think.

While the saying goes "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me," that doesn't spell truth for everyone. I couldn't begin to count the number of times I've been told I need to develop a "thicker skin" in response to people's words. Even that comment has become an emotional pain in my side.

If I'm ever going to grow as a person, I need to learn to accept criticism, and to recognize the difference between that which is constructive and that which is insensitive. Once that distinction is made, there's no longer a need to hide from the criticism anymore. You take the constructive and let it strengthen you, and you brush off the insensitive. Simple.

3. Read one book a month.

The idea here is that I'd like to become more creative, more thoughtful and more receptive to new concepts. While I may equate that with reading one book a month, my slow reading pace may limit me, and I give myself leeway to miss my quota.

When reading a new book each month isn't an option, there are alternatives. I can start a new project - for instance, I've wanted to start illustrating for a long time - or I can learn about a new subject, which could be as simple as watching a documentary.

I'll endeavor to report back on my findings on my blog to keep track of my progress and hold myself accountable.

4. Continue writing every day.

While I've gone back and forth on whether or not I'd like to blog every day for another year, I do believe that writing each and every day is an activity I can maintain confidently. In addition to a short daily journal entry, I'd like to spend at least a few minutes each day writing something creative - whether that be a non-fiction personal essay, a fictional story or a poem.

This, in addition to learning something new each month by way of reading or watching or doing will hopefully make more well-rounded in the long term.

5. Go outside.

Being home in Southern California where the weather is constantly sunny and hot, my Elsa-like "cold never bothered me anyway" personality has turned me into quite the shut-in. But even if it's just for a short time, I'd like to promise myself to take a moment to walk and collect my thoughts and feelings every day.

Some people have very meaningful thoughts in the shower, but I think my mind achieves the greatest clarity on a good long walk. Or maybe a run, if the weather is fitting.

With these five resolutions, I'll be working toward vastly improving my way of life. In doing so, I expect not only to become a better writer, creator and learner, but a better person. And as a better person, I believe I could learn to become an even better friend, which is really the ultimate resolution.

The grand illusion

Has anyone ever told you that "[insert something here] will come true" or "You will [insert another thing here] if that's what you really want"?

In times of personal upheaval, I feel I hear these words of encouragement more than ever. Whether it's because I search for meaning and ask for the help of others, or they sense my pain on their own - the feedback usually sounds the same. But when I stop, look at myself and hear the words that are being spoken to me, I have trouble fully trusting.

As much as we, as humans, put our faith into what's beyond ourselves - the soul, supreme being(s), love - sometimes seeing really is believing. And when the universe inexplicably becomes indifferent to you one day, making sense of what you cannot see becomes so much harder.

Since I was a young kid, I was all about dreaming. When I wasn't caught lost in my own thoughts during class time, I was working toward my aspirations or writing in journals about them.

But dreams versus reality is a premise that is foreign to no one. We all partake in the wishful thinking that pushes us to great heights and sometimes even greater depths.

Then we have our friends who pick us up by saying "things will only get better" or "I believe in you."

Is this the grand illusion of life? That we are capable of whatever we set our minds to because that idea has been reinforced within us over and over and over again?

These days, I wish I had the answer. Yet the very root of the problem is that I have no answers - and neither does anyone else. However, living in perpetual fear of disappointment is not an option. And neither is gallivanting through each day without a worry or care.

Success is created by the mixture of trust in oneself and fear of one's failure. And without both, we would seldom accomplish anything.

So while the illusion of our inevitable success is just a fantasy, the little pushes we get from the people who care about us are not rendered any less valuable. We need them, just as we need ourselves to occasionally bring back the perspective.