I had the time of my life
Fighting dragons with you."
-T. Swift, Long Live
I wrote this blog a couple of weeks ago after my trip to Austin. I'm just realizing now that I never posted it.
As I was sitting in the airport on Thursday, waiting for my connecting flight to Austin, I noticed that my heart was beating faster than usual; my palms were sweaty, and I couldn't stop biting the inside of my mouth. Sure, flying is not my favorite thing to do, but those kind of nerves never seem to envelope me like this. I kept thinking about meeting Lindsay at the airport. I was nervous, mixed with excitement, of course, to see two friends I hadn't seen in over a year. I wasn't too nervous to see Zach, probably because we had been friends for years and I wouldn't be seeing him until later in the weekend. But mine and Lindsay's relationship is very different than others. We went through an experience that most only dream of, for some a dream come true and others, a nightmare. I wasn't sure how it would feel to be together in a different country, among others like ourselves. I was afraid that out of context, our friendship would seem distant or make little sense outside of Boma N'gombe. Because besides that summer, and before my visit to Austin, our entire friendship had been based on a pile of letters stacked-up on my night stand.
For the last year and a half I've had so much trouble talking about my experience in Africa in a way that makes sense to others. I feel like no matter what I say, how descriptively I tell my stories, or the countless pictures I show, no one will ever fully understand my experience.
I had waited so long to actually be in the presence of someone who understood; who could relate to the students I taught in the second story barn, what it was like to see a male lion walk across the Ngorongora Crater, or the story of having no water to drink in Zanzibar after a night of boozing with the Rastafarians. Sure, I can tell these stories. I can widen your eyes and run chills up and down your spine with tales of starving children and war-torn villages. But no one can actually see the dust being kicked up by our caravan of jeeps, the packed dala dalas with limbs hanging out the windows, or the way the hungry children with flies living in the crevices of their eyes looked up at me, begging me to take them home, like Lindsay can.
It turned out that Lindsay and I began right where we left off. We didn't have very much catching up to do because we make sure that gets covered in the countless number of letters we write back and forth to one another. We call them love letters. It's not that we are in love with each other, but we are so much in love with Africa, that we find solace and comfort in one another's writing. When one of us starts to forget a memory we shared, a student's name, or a place we visited, we remind each other. We admit that we are afraid of forgetting but promise to keep the memories alive through our letters. "Reading your letter about Tanzania made my heart race. Maybe that's why I equate it with love," Lindsay writes in a letter she sent before our visit. "I still feel like I could close my eyes and be there. We may never see that place again, though. Somewhere that we both can write so passionately about, fill up journals with and be so taken with...We may never see again."
We hope with all of our hearts that this will not be the case. That one day our lives will bring us back to Boma, that little village just miles from the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro. A village that formed a friendship so strong, that not even 1300 miles of American soil can break it apart. Thanks to our experiences, I know that we will be friends for life.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
"And I'll learn to get by on little victories"-Matt Nathanson
Something great happened today, and while it was a very small thing, I have found that in social work we need to hold on to these small victories and use these victories as fuel to advocate for our less successful youth and power through the obstacles and roadblocks that often stand in our way.
(For privacy purposes I have only included the first letter of all names mentioned.)
After dropping M,a fellow Americorps member, off at work, I continue on to my office downtown jamming to Blind Melon's "Skinned." I notice that the beat of the song jives with the rhythm of the wind-shield wipers swishing back and forth and my fingers begin to snap in sync. And just like every morning, I swing around the bend into the parking lot and wave at the maintenance manager who sits in a golf cart at the entrance. Sometimes, I think he is waving at me to slow down; I ignore this, smile, and wave as if I'm clueless as to what he is trying to tell me. I park in a spot marked "reserved," (this, too, I ignore) and hurriedly gather my things from the backseat because last night's cocktail at the bar with my neighbor has made me late, yet again. I take the elevator up to the third story, brief case in one hand and herbal tea in the other with an eco-friendly shopping bag swung over my right shoulder, to be greeted by our Secretary, S. She just got a new haircut. It's very "Mary Tyler Moore."
I glance at the clock on the wall in my office and realize that I have 5 minutes to spare before a staff meeting at 9:30. Because I chose to put on make-up this morning rather than eat breakfast, I rip open a granola bar with my teeth while skimming the subject lines of ten un-read e-mails in my inbox. Without looking up from my computer screen, I hear a knock at my door.
"Come in," I say, without looking up, figuring it's probably an Independent Living Specialist referring me to another youth.
A young man clears his throat,"Hi Miss."
I stop reading to find D, one of the youth I have been assisting in receiving food stamps and medicaid benefits for the last few weeks, standing in front of my desk with a smile painted from ear to ear. As I stand up to greet him, he walks towards me, gives me a hug and says "Thank you."
I am so taken aback by the gesture of appreciation, one in which the staff members at Vita Nova rarely see, that I think I am going to cry. In just this week alone, I have had two youths miss their tutoring sessions due to a lack of responsibility, one young woman blame me for the rejection of her medicaid application in which she proceeded to deem me "the biggest bitch to ever walk the planet," and a set of twins whose food stamp applications were rejected by the state because of their current citizenship status.
And so during weeks like this, when I feel like I have failed a youth five out of six times, that one youth who has actually succeeded in receiving a benefit is the most important part of my day. Youth like D, while they are few and far between, remind me why I get up for work every morning and encourage me to continue advocating for this particular population. He reminds me to have more patience and compassion for a youth who over sleeps and misses his appointment or out of frustration and loss, takes their anger at the system, out on me. When I think about D, I remember why these youth are sitting in my office. I remember that they are dealing with more stress and trauma than I probably ever will; that their inability to trust anyone takes a toll on the relationships I attempt to form with them; and that in comparison to what I grew up with, these youths have grown up with relatively nothing.
After talking to D about the food stamp benefit he had received, I asked him if he had a meeting with his Independent Living Specialist this morning. He did not. He was simply there to thank me for helping him.
I was beaming.
(For privacy purposes I have only included the first letter of all names mentioned.)
After dropping M,a fellow Americorps member, off at work, I continue on to my office downtown jamming to Blind Melon's "Skinned." I notice that the beat of the song jives with the rhythm of the wind-shield wipers swishing back and forth and my fingers begin to snap in sync. And just like every morning, I swing around the bend into the parking lot and wave at the maintenance manager who sits in a golf cart at the entrance. Sometimes, I think he is waving at me to slow down; I ignore this, smile, and wave as if I'm clueless as to what he is trying to tell me. I park in a spot marked "reserved," (this, too, I ignore) and hurriedly gather my things from the backseat because last night's cocktail at the bar with my neighbor has made me late, yet again. I take the elevator up to the third story, brief case in one hand and herbal tea in the other with an eco-friendly shopping bag swung over my right shoulder, to be greeted by our Secretary, S. She just got a new haircut. It's very "Mary Tyler Moore."
I glance at the clock on the wall in my office and realize that I have 5 minutes to spare before a staff meeting at 9:30. Because I chose to put on make-up this morning rather than eat breakfast, I rip open a granola bar with my teeth while skimming the subject lines of ten un-read e-mails in my inbox. Without looking up from my computer screen, I hear a knock at my door.
"Come in," I say, without looking up, figuring it's probably an Independent Living Specialist referring me to another youth.
A young man clears his throat,"Hi Miss."
I stop reading to find D, one of the youth I have been assisting in receiving food stamps and medicaid benefits for the last few weeks, standing in front of my desk with a smile painted from ear to ear. As I stand up to greet him, he walks towards me, gives me a hug and says "Thank you."
I am so taken aback by the gesture of appreciation, one in which the staff members at Vita Nova rarely see, that I think I am going to cry. In just this week alone, I have had two youths miss their tutoring sessions due to a lack of responsibility, one young woman blame me for the rejection of her medicaid application in which she proceeded to deem me "the biggest bitch to ever walk the planet," and a set of twins whose food stamp applications were rejected by the state because of their current citizenship status.
And so during weeks like this, when I feel like I have failed a youth five out of six times, that one youth who has actually succeeded in receiving a benefit is the most important part of my day. Youth like D, while they are few and far between, remind me why I get up for work every morning and encourage me to continue advocating for this particular population. He reminds me to have more patience and compassion for a youth who over sleeps and misses his appointment or out of frustration and loss, takes their anger at the system, out on me. When I think about D, I remember why these youth are sitting in my office. I remember that they are dealing with more stress and trauma than I probably ever will; that their inability to trust anyone takes a toll on the relationships I attempt to form with them; and that in comparison to what I grew up with, these youths have grown up with relatively nothing.
After talking to D about the food stamp benefit he had received, I asked him if he had a meeting with his Independent Living Specialist this morning. He did not. He was simply there to thank me for helping him.
I was beaming.
Monday, October 18, 2010
It's Always Sunny in Florida
I've been writing monthly e-mails instead of blogs because certain family members, like my 76 year old grandmother, do not understand the concept of "blogging." Yet, I feel as though the entire point of creating "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly of Post College Life" was to remark upon my experiences in Florida. So in order to make both my grandmother and the blog fans (cough, Colleen, cough) happy, I've decided to write both.
Florida is hot. And humid. And there are no seasonal changes, like the changing colors of the leaves, to look forward to. The temperature here has dropped to 90 instead of its usual 100 and people here remark upon this change in temperature as if we're experiencing some sort of cool spell. The pool at the club house is all of a sudden "too chilly" to swim in and the ocean "too rough" to wade in. Being used to the cold water and swells of the Atlantic off Long Island, the 75 degree ocean water feels refreshing against the relentless, blazing heat that radiates from the sun ALL DAY LONG.
Work at Vita Nova gets better everyday. We have taken over the the third floor of the building which means that I get my very own office! (See picture to the right, and Yes, I am aware of the decorating that needs to be done.)On Sunday, VN played a flag-football game at a nearby park in West Palm against ten of the youth we serve. I invited a bunch of Americorps members to play to reinforce the community aspect of VN's mission. The event was a success for both teams even though the "staff" team kicked some serious butt!
As far as the actual work that I do, it is extremely satisfying. To know that I have aided in a student's successful completion of their GED, passed their algebra class because of our tutoring sessions, or was able to move to a less restrictive residency because of positive behavior that was enforced and practiced through different activities, makes way for an unbelievable feeling. For the first time, I actually feel like all of my hard work has paid off; that I am in this position because I have earned it, and because I have earned it, I have found happiness in my work. Right now, I am applying to graduate schools for the fall of 2011 for a dual masters in social work and public health in hopes to continue this satisfying work in the future.
Aside from work at Vita Nova, I have taken up a babysitting job Friday afternoons and Saturday evenings and have become involved with a few community service projects. A few weeks ago, six Americorps members, including myself, served at "Camp Treasure" an over night camp for kids who have parents or siblings with disabilities. They got to be the "treasures" which they often do not get to be because of the extra responsibilities they have at home living with a family member who needs their assistance. The kids got to play basketball, swim in the pool, participate in a ropes course, create an art project, and participate in other "ice breaker" type games that encouraged them to open up and ask for help, two qualities in which most of these kids lack. Because most of these kids would have never have had the chance to attend a summer camp, it was really cool to witness the happiness that the weekend had brought them.
I know it seems like "all work and no play," but I am taking time to do things for myself, as well. I have found that it is easier to leave work at work then it was to leave school work at the library and in class. I've been taking advantage of Delray and Lake Worth, two very artsy and eclectic towns about 10 minutes in each direction of Boynton. Just yesterday, I auditioned at the LakeWorth Playhouse for their rendition of "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels." I received a call-back for Wednesday evening. I'm hoping for a spot in the ensemble to slowly get back into something that at one point, was the center of my life. I'll be sure to let you know how it goes! :)
Looking forward to my visit with Lindsay and Zach in Austin, TX at the beginning of November, and then my first trip home for Thanksgiving to see my family and friends! I am positive that both visits will be blog-worthy. Talk then--
peace&love.
Florida is hot. And humid. And there are no seasonal changes, like the changing colors of the leaves, to look forward to. The temperature here has dropped to 90 instead of its usual 100 and people here remark upon this change in temperature as if we're experiencing some sort of cool spell. The pool at the club house is all of a sudden "too chilly" to swim in and the ocean "too rough" to wade in. Being used to the cold water and swells of the Atlantic off Long Island, the 75 degree ocean water feels refreshing against the relentless, blazing heat that radiates from the sun ALL DAY LONG.
Work at Vita Nova gets better everyday. We have taken over the the third floor of the building which means that I get my very own office! (See picture to the right, and Yes, I am aware of the decorating that needs to be done.)On Sunday, VN played a flag-football game at a nearby park in West Palm against ten of the youth we serve. I invited a bunch of Americorps members to play to reinforce the community aspect of VN's mission. The event was a success for both teams even though the "staff" team kicked some serious butt!
As far as the actual work that I do, it is extremely satisfying. To know that I have aided in a student's successful completion of their GED, passed their algebra class because of our tutoring sessions, or was able to move to a less restrictive residency because of positive behavior that was enforced and practiced through different activities, makes way for an unbelievable feeling. For the first time, I actually feel like all of my hard work has paid off; that I am in this position because I have earned it, and because I have earned it, I have found happiness in my work. Right now, I am applying to graduate schools for the fall of 2011 for a dual masters in social work and public health in hopes to continue this satisfying work in the future.
Aside from work at Vita Nova, I have taken up a babysitting job Friday afternoons and Saturday evenings and have become involved with a few community service projects. A few weeks ago, six Americorps members, including myself, served at "Camp Treasure" an over night camp for kids who have parents or siblings with disabilities. They got to be the "treasures" which they often do not get to be because of the extra responsibilities they have at home living with a family member who needs their assistance. The kids got to play basketball, swim in the pool, participate in a ropes course, create an art project, and participate in other "ice breaker" type games that encouraged them to open up and ask for help, two qualities in which most of these kids lack. Because most of these kids would have never have had the chance to attend a summer camp, it was really cool to witness the happiness that the weekend had brought them.
I know it seems like "all work and no play," but I am taking time to do things for myself, as well. I have found that it is easier to leave work at work then it was to leave school work at the library and in class. I've been taking advantage of Delray and Lake Worth, two very artsy and eclectic towns about 10 minutes in each direction of Boynton. Just yesterday, I auditioned at the LakeWorth Playhouse for their rendition of "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels." I received a call-back for Wednesday evening. I'm hoping for a spot in the ensemble to slowly get back into something that at one point, was the center of my life. I'll be sure to let you know how it goes! :)
Looking forward to my visit with Lindsay and Zach in Austin, TX at the beginning of November, and then my first trip home for Thanksgiving to see my family and friends! I am positive that both visits will be blog-worthy. Talk then--
peace&love.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Staying With The Present
For the last year and a half I have been exploring the practice of yoga both physically and mentally. As unwanted stress and anxieties flooded my body in a way that prevented me from perceiving and responding to reality in a way that resolved this suffering, I discovered restorative yoga.
Restorative yoga, as well as other forms of yoga, help to trigger the Parasympathetic nervous system (PNS). The PNS is responsible for balancing the body and bringing its response system back into equalibrium. This particular form of yoga has been defined as a supported, conscious body/mind relaxation practice that benefits both the body and mind, for conditions ranging from insomnia to asthma to chronic pain to depression.
As I began this practice, I was having trouble bringing what I had learned in class, into my daily life outside of the studio. Even in class, I was so concentrated on the poses, quieting my breathe, and remainging calm that I would often find myself distracted and overly "alert." I could never just be.
My yoga instructor, Stephanie Mortellaro of "Beyond Center for Yoga and Pilates" in Brockport, NY, lectured on the importance of the mental yogic practices, as well as the physical, and explained to me that one can not operate without the other when attempting to create anandamaya kosa, or the feeling of being "okay."
Michael Stone, a yoga teacher and pyschotherapist who teaches and lectures internationally at conferences and in academic settings harps on exactly Stephanie's advice. In his book,The Innter Tradition of Yoga, he explains this through the definition of the word "Avidyā." Avidyā is the inability to see things or be with things as they are. Stone tells us that "most of the time we are not present or engaged with things as they are, because we are so caught in deep grooves of attachement, aversion, and our stories of self.
This really spoke to me, and in a way echoed what I believe Stephanie was trying to convey. I have trouble seeing things as they are and being accepting of the present moment because of my habitual patterns of attachment and aversion. So often I find myself attached to the past, lost in a cloud of nostalgia, while other times I find myself running away from the anxiety of the present that I avert the pain to the future, resulting in a life lived either two steps behind or two steps ahead.
There is a joke in yoga that Stone shares with his readers that asks, "If you had to hide something that was the most valuable thing you had, where would you hide it?" The answer is: "in the present moment." I exist in the present moment yet I find myself missing the present completely due to a construction of self that averts and attaches to negative feelings.
I have learned the importance in staying with the present feeling, whether positive or negative. Stone tells his readers that while staying with the present feeling requires an attitude of patience and intentional acceptance, especailly when there is physical or emotional pain, this mindful awareness is "non-conceptual, non-judgmental, sometimes nonverbal, and exploratory." In yoga, we call this "tapas." It means to be grounded in reality that is not "apart from." Stone explains that the skill of "grounding" is the activity of feeling what is without plotting escape routes.
After reading Stone's book and reviewing other psychotherapists who explore the practice of yoga, I have found that the yoga I demonstrate in the classroom has found its way into my daily life; that the postures I complete become routes for awareness, and the feelings I have accepted which develop this awareness have influenced my postures and poses inside the classroom.
When I find myself consumed by either aversion or attachement, and feel as though I am succombing to anxiety, I try to remember this:
"When we accept what is in this very moment, without pushing or pulling, when there is no running after or running away, we find in our practice a level of deep acceptance and peace." -Michael Stone
Restorative yoga, as well as other forms of yoga, help to trigger the Parasympathetic nervous system (PNS). The PNS is responsible for balancing the body and bringing its response system back into equalibrium. This particular form of yoga has been defined as a supported, conscious body/mind relaxation practice that benefits both the body and mind, for conditions ranging from insomnia to asthma to chronic pain to depression.
As I began this practice, I was having trouble bringing what I had learned in class, into my daily life outside of the studio. Even in class, I was so concentrated on the poses, quieting my breathe, and remainging calm that I would often find myself distracted and overly "alert." I could never just be.
My yoga instructor, Stephanie Mortellaro of "Beyond Center for Yoga and Pilates" in Brockport, NY, lectured on the importance of the mental yogic practices, as well as the physical, and explained to me that one can not operate without the other when attempting to create anandamaya kosa, or the feeling of being "okay."
Michael Stone, a yoga teacher and pyschotherapist who teaches and lectures internationally at conferences and in academic settings harps on exactly Stephanie's advice. In his book,The Innter Tradition of Yoga, he explains this through the definition of the word "Avidyā." Avidyā is the inability to see things or be with things as they are. Stone tells us that "most of the time we are not present or engaged with things as they are, because we are so caught in deep grooves of attachement, aversion, and our stories of self.
This really spoke to me, and in a way echoed what I believe Stephanie was trying to convey. I have trouble seeing things as they are and being accepting of the present moment because of my habitual patterns of attachment and aversion. So often I find myself attached to the past, lost in a cloud of nostalgia, while other times I find myself running away from the anxiety of the present that I avert the pain to the future, resulting in a life lived either two steps behind or two steps ahead.
There is a joke in yoga that Stone shares with his readers that asks, "If you had to hide something that was the most valuable thing you had, where would you hide it?" The answer is: "in the present moment." I exist in the present moment yet I find myself missing the present completely due to a construction of self that averts and attaches to negative feelings.
I have learned the importance in staying with the present feeling, whether positive or negative. Stone tells his readers that while staying with the present feeling requires an attitude of patience and intentional acceptance, especailly when there is physical or emotional pain, this mindful awareness is "non-conceptual, non-judgmental, sometimes nonverbal, and exploratory." In yoga, we call this "tapas." It means to be grounded in reality that is not "apart from." Stone explains that the skill of "grounding" is the activity of feeling what is without plotting escape routes.
After reading Stone's book and reviewing other psychotherapists who explore the practice of yoga, I have found that the yoga I demonstrate in the classroom has found its way into my daily life; that the postures I complete become routes for awareness, and the feelings I have accepted which develop this awareness have influenced my postures and poses inside the classroom.
When I find myself consumed by either aversion or attachement, and feel as though I am succombing to anxiety, I try to remember this:
"When we accept what is in this very moment, without pushing or pulling, when there is no running after or running away, we find in our practice a level of deep acceptance and peace." -Michael Stone
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
What I will miss most about the North East...
1.) Layers for winter. Wool knee socks that peek through my brown leather boots over my softest pair of black cotton leggings; my over-sized chunky sweater from Banana paired with one of my mother's "want-to-snuggle-your-face-up-to-it" scarves patterned with polka dots and checker boards, horizontal stripes and vertical stripes; a crocheted pair of gloves and a comfortably fitting hat with a rainbow of pom poms on top. I will miss the warmth that doesn't come from the sun, but from the comfort of layers that sooth my soul from both the heaviness of the fabrics and the love and memories that have been sewed within them.
2.) Deserted Beaches. Places untouched. When I think about West Palm Beach, I think about tourists. I see mobs of vacationers dragging coolers and umbrellas across the blazing hot sand, sunscreen slopped children holding the hands of mothers toting sacks of beach toys and buckets on their backs, life guards at the ready in bright red one-pieces with safety rafts under their arms and hands over head, and coozies of beer cans held by fathers scrolling their blackberries for e-mails from work. I assume that, like in Bellport, after a period of time as a "Floridian" I will find not only beaches, but little nooks and crannies untouched by tourists, saved and cherished for those who appreciate life unmarked, for those not in search of a getaway but a home.
3.) My accent. Yes. my accent. I realize that most of you are probably wondering how one loses an accent but the truth is, and those of you who know me all too well, know that I have a tendency to acquire different sounds and inflections based on my current city. I grew up "tawking ova cawfee" but by the time I graduated from college in Raaaachester I was "talking over coffee." And now that I am back on Long Island I have combined the two and I am somewhere between "tawking" and "coffee." God only knows what I will be doing over coffee in Florida but if the Long Island, the Rochester, and the Florida accents combine together, I may be on the road to one severe identity crisis!
4.) The Big Apple. The fast paced life brought on by business people on Wall street and millionaires on Park Ave; the Fashion District filled with miles of material for models with legs just as long; or sports fans with baseball caps and hot dogs on the 7 train on their way to Citifield; tourists in search of familial history on Ellis Island, a photograph of the Statue of Liberty while floating down the Hudson or the heart-racing feeling obtained by climbing the Empire State building, all of this powered by subways and buses, trains and taxi's, airports and trams. I'll miss the relatively quiet neighborhoods on the West Side in Chelsea where I spent a couple of summers taking the E train back and forth to my internship on Park; spending sunsets on the High Line, photographing couples holding hands, businessmen with their ties loosened, pregnant women holding their swollen bellies, children impatiently waiting in line on their tip-toes at the gelatto cart...I will miss the feeling of the cold plastic beneath my legs on the subway, the smell of chestnuts roasting on the corner cart in the winter time, the sound of taxis honking and traffic rushing by, and the taste of real New York City pizza with gooey cheese and crispy crust.
5.) My family & My friends.
This list was meant to be short, and to the point, sort of like #5. But I guess #5 is as obvious as it gets, but the others, the others needed explaining. Or at least I thought so...Ha. Look. I'm rambling again.
2.) Deserted Beaches. Places untouched. When I think about West Palm Beach, I think about tourists. I see mobs of vacationers dragging coolers and umbrellas across the blazing hot sand, sunscreen slopped children holding the hands of mothers toting sacks of beach toys and buckets on their backs, life guards at the ready in bright red one-pieces with safety rafts under their arms and hands over head, and coozies of beer cans held by fathers scrolling their blackberries for e-mails from work. I assume that, like in Bellport, after a period of time as a "Floridian" I will find not only beaches, but little nooks and crannies untouched by tourists, saved and cherished for those who appreciate life unmarked, for those not in search of a getaway but a home.
3.) My accent. Yes. my accent. I realize that most of you are probably wondering how one loses an accent but the truth is, and those of you who know me all too well, know that I have a tendency to acquire different sounds and inflections based on my current city. I grew up "tawking ova cawfee" but by the time I graduated from college in Raaaachester I was "talking over coffee." And now that I am back on Long Island I have combined the two and I am somewhere between "tawking" and "coffee." God only knows what I will be doing over coffee in Florida but if the Long Island, the Rochester, and the Florida accents combine together, I may be on the road to one severe identity crisis!
4.) The Big Apple. The fast paced life brought on by business people on Wall street and millionaires on Park Ave; the Fashion District filled with miles of material for models with legs just as long; or sports fans with baseball caps and hot dogs on the 7 train on their way to Citifield; tourists in search of familial history on Ellis Island, a photograph of the Statue of Liberty while floating down the Hudson or the heart-racing feeling obtained by climbing the Empire State building, all of this powered by subways and buses, trains and taxi's, airports and trams. I'll miss the relatively quiet neighborhoods on the West Side in Chelsea where I spent a couple of summers taking the E train back and forth to my internship on Park; spending sunsets on the High Line, photographing couples holding hands, businessmen with their ties loosened, pregnant women holding their swollen bellies, children impatiently waiting in line on their tip-toes at the gelatto cart...I will miss the feeling of the cold plastic beneath my legs on the subway, the smell of chestnuts roasting on the corner cart in the winter time, the sound of taxis honking and traffic rushing by, and the taste of real New York City pizza with gooey cheese and crispy crust.
5.) My family & My friends.
This list was meant to be short, and to the point, sort of like #5. But I guess #5 is as obvious as it gets, but the others, the others needed explaining. Or at least I thought so...Ha. Look. I'm rambling again.
Monday, June 28, 2010
"It might be a quarter life crisis, or just a stirring in my soul." -John Mayer
Good ole' Wikipedia (my college professors would cringe at the fact that I am consulting with this site) defines The Quarterlife Crisis (QLF) as "a term applied to the period of life immediately following the major changes of adolescence, usually ranging from the early twenties to the early thirties." A website called quarterlifecrisis.com (I kid you not...) explains to us, and by us I mean those suffering from this so-called "crisis," that QLF is "a period of anxiety and uncertainty that often accompanies the transition to adulthood."
And it's not just wiki writers and website junkies that have deemed this time period in a twenty-something person's life a Quarterlife Crisis. After a quick spin on google, I found that it was Abby Wilner, co-author of Quarterlife Crisis and Quarterlifer's Companion, who coined the phrase in 1997 after she graduated from college, moved back home, and couldn't figure out what to do with her life.
And then there's John Mayer, musician/singer/song writer, whose lyrics I often find myself relating to, nodding my head in both agreement and steady beat to his genuine words of wisdom, who is unsure of how to explain these feelings of inner turmoil. He suggests that Ms. Wilner may be right or, on the other hand, it may just be a stirring in the old soul.
For me, though, I'm not convinced it is either one or the other but possibly a little of wiki, a little of Wilner, and a little of Mayer.
For me, it is realizing that there are a lot of things I hadn't known about myself before and may or may not like.
For me, it is missing the comfort of college and the non-familial support system(although it felt a whole lot like family) that surrounded my life every minute of every day. It is feeling alone when I remember that all of my closest friends do not live around the corner but rather 400 miles away, and some more.
For me, it is figuring out what I want and what I do not want and all of the things inbetween. My opinions are getting stronger and I am questioning everything.
For me, it is questioning the things my parents have taught me. Religion, especially. For the last two years I have been battling with what I believe and what I have been taught to believe, and have come to the conclusion that the difference between the two is immense.
For me, it is the feeling of being stuck. I have graduated with a degree in English
Literature and Sociology and have somehow found myself glued to an office chair at an investment firm. I wake up every morning and swear that today will be the last day I review and edit memorandums upon memorandums.
For me, it is the endless worrying about money and college loans. I then think about my desk job, and thank a God I'm not even sure exists, for the temporary financial security.
For me, it is having the sense to deem what is right and what is wrong. And while often times I feel intolerably small, I feel as though I am resonating good for myself and others the best that I can.
For me, it is a rollercoaster ride of constant ups and downs, good days and bad. I am insecure and then secure. I am laughing with an old friend, and I am crying with nostalgia. I am drawing new boundary lines; expressing what I deem to be acceptable and unnacceptable.
And through out all of these beliefs that I am trying to validate and actually see , the kind of change that looked promising becomes the enemy. And I go back to my old ways and try clinging to the past with dear life but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away and there is nothing to do but stay where I am and move forward.
Because for me, the unknown is rather exciting, and by accepting that change is here, and will continue to follow me out of this quarterlife crisis and onto my midlife crisis and into my old age, I am moving forward. For me, it is gobbling up every ounce of opportunity I can, for fear of missing out on the next best thing. I want to eat it all up, like the way a baby eats their first bowl of real "people food;" cautious at first, unaware of the unknown and as good as this new food looks, reluctant at first to give it a try. But once he finally "digs in" the palet expands and what once looked unfamiliar, becomes the norm.
I'm in that middle stage. The stage where the baby is eyeing up textures and smells unknown to his eyes and ears. I can see the opportunities ahead but I can also look back and see what I have left.
My first bite into the "real world" comes August 17th when I move away from home for a second time to West Palm Beach, Florida to begin my first "real job" for Americorps.
I'll be sure to let you know how it tastes.
And it's not just wiki writers and website junkies that have deemed this time period in a twenty-something person's life a Quarterlife Crisis. After a quick spin on google, I found that it was Abby Wilner, co-author of Quarterlife Crisis and Quarterlifer's Companion, who coined the phrase in 1997 after she graduated from college, moved back home, and couldn't figure out what to do with her life.
And then there's John Mayer, musician/singer/song writer, whose lyrics I often find myself relating to, nodding my head in both agreement and steady beat to his genuine words of wisdom, who is unsure of how to explain these feelings of inner turmoil. He suggests that Ms. Wilner may be right or, on the other hand, it may just be a stirring in the old soul.
For me, though, I'm not convinced it is either one or the other but possibly a little of wiki, a little of Wilner, and a little of Mayer.
For me, it is realizing that there are a lot of things I hadn't known about myself before and may or may not like.
For me, it is missing the comfort of college and the non-familial support system(although it felt a whole lot like family) that surrounded my life every minute of every day. It is feeling alone when I remember that all of my closest friends do not live around the corner but rather 400 miles away, and some more.
For me, it is figuring out what I want and what I do not want and all of the things inbetween. My opinions are getting stronger and I am questioning everything.
For me, it is questioning the things my parents have taught me. Religion, especially. For the last two years I have been battling with what I believe and what I have been taught to believe, and have come to the conclusion that the difference between the two is immense.
For me, it is the feeling of being stuck. I have graduated with a degree in English
Literature and Sociology and have somehow found myself glued to an office chair at an investment firm. I wake up every morning and swear that today will be the last day I review and edit memorandums upon memorandums.
For me, it is the endless worrying about money and college loans. I then think about my desk job, and thank a God I'm not even sure exists, for the temporary financial security.
For me, it is having the sense to deem what is right and what is wrong. And while often times I feel intolerably small, I feel as though I am resonating good for myself and others the best that I can.
For me, it is a rollercoaster ride of constant ups and downs, good days and bad. I am insecure and then secure. I am laughing with an old friend, and I am crying with nostalgia. I am drawing new boundary lines; expressing what I deem to be acceptable and unnacceptable.
And through out all of these beliefs that I am trying to validate and actually see , the kind of change that looked promising becomes the enemy. And I go back to my old ways and try clinging to the past with dear life but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away and there is nothing to do but stay where I am and move forward.
Because for me, the unknown is rather exciting, and by accepting that change is here, and will continue to follow me out of this quarterlife crisis and onto my midlife crisis and into my old age, I am moving forward. For me, it is gobbling up every ounce of opportunity I can, for fear of missing out on the next best thing. I want to eat it all up, like the way a baby eats their first bowl of real "people food;" cautious at first, unaware of the unknown and as good as this new food looks, reluctant at first to give it a try. But once he finally "digs in" the palet expands and what once looked unfamiliar, becomes the norm.
I'm in that middle stage. The stage where the baby is eyeing up textures and smells unknown to his eyes and ears. I can see the opportunities ahead but I can also look back and see what I have left.
My first bite into the "real world" comes August 17th when I move away from home for a second time to West Palm Beach, Florida to begin my first "real job" for Americorps.
I'll be sure to let you know how it tastes.
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