We are, each of us, just ships sailing blindly trough the night. We navigate with no precise destination and we learn new routes along the way.
We are, each of us, lonely. We crave companionship, be it friendly or romantic, and without it we feel lost.
I don’t like this concept. I don’t like the notion that without a significant other we feel incomplete. I don’t like the thought that if you have not met the right person yet– or any person for that matter- that you have not succeeded.
I love my friends: I have succeeded.
I love being alone: I have succeeded.
Succeed on your own. Plot your own course and navigate through the night. Then you will be accomplished. Then whomever you meet will be significant.
We do not need other ships to help us on our way. We gain nothing from following another lost wanderer. Find your way, then help another.
Find the North Star to lead you home. Find it within yourself.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Crash into me
Life is a series of collisions.
We collide with a doctor’s waiting hands at birth, collide with a stranger on the street or a person we are destined to love, collide with a wall or a door or a moment and our lives change forever. Life is not measured by the things we did and did not do. It is measured by the experiences we have and the impact that we leave.
Sometimes you simply collide and keep on going; some interactions are a hit and run. But then there are the few, the memorable few who you crash into. You crash and then you are never the same. You crash and a part of them is embedded in you, or you in them. Like the exchanged paint on a car’s bumper that has collided with another car’s fender.
Sometimes they break you. The crash leaves you broken and bruised, damaged seemingly beyond repair. But then you pound out the dents and get a new paint job and if you’re lucky you’re better than new. Sometimes the crash hurts you or scares you, but it can always be fixed. You can always be fixed.
And sometimes it’s a good crash. Sometimes the dents are good and the scratches heal on their own and you are better off because of it. These crashes, these people are the best friends, the college roommates, the first loves and almost first loves. You crash into them and you are never the same.
Collide, and your life will begin.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Today is a day to remember.
Today I had my first full, painfully long day of classes in college. I woke up early, complained about my 8am class, agonized over my full schedule and did not give the date a second glance until I had to write it down in class. Then I paused. A full schedule is a blessing on a day like today. It means I am receiving an education, it means I am surrounded by people (some, if not most of which I like a lot). It means I am alive.
This day one year ago I was sitting in my apartment in Florence, Italy writing a memorial blog post. I was still in awe of how much I loved Florence and my roommates immediately. I was overwhelmed by appreciation for how fortunate I was. I still am.
This day eleven years ago I sat on my mother’s bed as an eight year old girl all alone and terrified as I watched the images on the TV screen of buildings collapsing into rubble and people crying out in agony. This day eleven years ago was a tragedy, for those living in New York, London, China, and Trinidad alike. It was a tragedy for the world. The entire world remembers exactly what they were doing on this day eleven years ago; it’s something no one will ever forget.
Today I sent a text message to everyone I love reminding them how much I appreciate them not just today, but everyday.
Today I saw a table full of soldiers having lunch. I hesitated, but I stopped and thanked them. I told them I am proud of them, today especially, and they told me never to forget.
Never forget.
This day one year ago I was sitting in my apartment in Florence, Italy writing a memorial blog post. I was still in awe of how much I loved Florence and my roommates immediately. I was overwhelmed by appreciation for how fortunate I was. I still am.
This day eleven years ago I sat on my mother’s bed as an eight year old girl all alone and terrified as I watched the images on the TV screen of buildings collapsing into rubble and people crying out in agony. This day eleven years ago was a tragedy, for those living in New York, London, China, and Trinidad alike. It was a tragedy for the world. The entire world remembers exactly what they were doing on this day eleven years ago; it’s something no one will ever forget.
Today I sent a text message to everyone I love reminding them how much I appreciate them not just today, but everyday.
Today I saw a table full of soldiers having lunch. I hesitated, but I stopped and thanked them. I told them I am proud of them, today especially, and they told me never to forget.
Never forget.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Thoughts from Places: College
It is a strange sensation to feel so old, yet so childish.
I am aware that I am one year the senior of the vast majority of my fellow freshmen, yet I find myself equally nervous, equally excited, equally flustered in these our first weeks of the first year of college.
I felt like my five-year-old self again waving goodbye to my father on my first day of school when a matter of days ago I waved goodbye to him outside of my dorm as he left to return home.
I felt older than everyone in the room when I attended my first college party and every other person was a freshman already drunk off life from the excitement of the freedom they have not until this point in their lives experienced.
I felt like a youngster braving my first sleepover (which was no easy feat for me) when I slept in my dorm room for the first time.
I felt old when I had to explain to everyone in my classes that yes, I am a freshman but no, I am not straight out of high school.
I felt like a happy pre-teen with her first cell phone happily texting all my friends when I got my first American phone, yet I felt peculiarly like a responsible adult when I got my first phone bill and proceeded to pay it on my own, sans parental help.
I already have a pile of schoolbooks towering over me as I write, threatening to topple over at any time. I already have homework as of yet unfinished though I have only had half a week of classes.
I have already suffered through and survived my first frozen dinner because I am already tired of the cafeteria food though I have only been eating here for two weeks.
I have already done laundry.
I do not yet have a regular routine of sleep, work and play. I am not yet overwhelmed or over worked, though I know it is all to come.
I enjoy these 'already’s' and 'not yet’s'. I enjoy the unfolding of this college experience, because I could either be scared and unhappy or I can embrace it and know that every other person here feels the same way I do.
College so far is a conflict between my mature self, braving this responsible new life alone and my childish self, still easily excited by and happy because of everything around me. I hope that does not change. I hope college life continues to excite and terrify me at times. I hope I ride the highs and brave the challenges and learn from it all. I hope I come away from this semester and this year ready for more, because I have found in life more always comes! And more often than not, it is for the best.
I am aware that I am one year the senior of the vast majority of my fellow freshmen, yet I find myself equally nervous, equally excited, equally flustered in these our first weeks of the first year of college.
I felt like my five-year-old self again waving goodbye to my father on my first day of school when a matter of days ago I waved goodbye to him outside of my dorm as he left to return home.
I felt older than everyone in the room when I attended my first college party and every other person was a freshman already drunk off life from the excitement of the freedom they have not until this point in their lives experienced.
I felt like a youngster braving my first sleepover (which was no easy feat for me) when I slept in my dorm room for the first time.
I felt old when I had to explain to everyone in my classes that yes, I am a freshman but no, I am not straight out of high school.
I felt like a happy pre-teen with her first cell phone happily texting all my friends when I got my first American phone, yet I felt peculiarly like a responsible adult when I got my first phone bill and proceeded to pay it on my own, sans parental help.
I already have a pile of schoolbooks towering over me as I write, threatening to topple over at any time. I already have homework as of yet unfinished though I have only had half a week of classes.
I have already suffered through and survived my first frozen dinner because I am already tired of the cafeteria food though I have only been eating here for two weeks.
I have already done laundry.
I do not yet have a regular routine of sleep, work and play. I am not yet overwhelmed or over worked, though I know it is all to come.
I enjoy these 'already’s' and 'not yet’s'. I enjoy the unfolding of this college experience, because I could either be scared and unhappy or I can embrace it and know that every other person here feels the same way I do.
College so far is a conflict between my mature self, braving this responsible new life alone and my childish self, still easily excited by and happy because of everything around me. I hope that does not change. I hope college life continues to excite and terrify me at times. I hope I ride the highs and brave the challenges and learn from it all. I hope I come away from this semester and this year ready for more, because I have found in life more always comes! And more often than not, it is for the best.
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