The other day one of my coworkers pulled me aside after we finished our daily check-out and mentioned that I seemed a little down and that if I ever wanted to talk, I shouldn't hesitate to call her. She smiled her ginuine smile at me (not the plastic, "hello my name is Cindy, how may I help you?" smile we use for 6 hours straight) and gave me her phone number. She promised not to judge me. She hugged me.
Now, I'll admit to having felt somewhat invisable of late. My friends are all in far-flung states or countries or continents, dutifully working full-time jobs or feverishly finishing finals or in completely opposite time zones. My family all have their own shtuff a-brewing. (And let me say that none of the above is bad. I am stoked for and inexpressibly proud of all the people in my life who are "out there" living--you ALL ROCK!) But all of the above factors do make it a little challenging to "talk" when I want to--or even when I don't. Cause the thing is, when Cindy randomly and generously reached out to me, I really was fine. I've been fine. I AM fine. But when I do have those dark moment, those hours or days or even weeks when I find myself wondering what the hell I'm doing and why I'm doing it and wondering what I should have done to alter my current curcumstances for the better, I do that thing where I sit in my car and think about who I might call. (More than likely I just end up at home blogging instead. Oye.)
I just feel so disconnected. Which is so far from the truth it's almost laughable. I have e-mail and Skype and facebook and a cell phone and snail mail for Christsake! And yet, with all of that, I look at the state of my relationships with you dear readers and I wonder--what can I do to let you know, as my kind coworker did, that I am HERE. I want to be avalible to you and I want you to know I care.
I guess I don't really have a point...other than that I've been watching to0 many clips from the "it gets better project" and "Vlogbrothers" in quick succession. I feel a restlessness in the form of a desire to help, to make a difference, and yet an equally large sense of inadeqacy and inexperience that seems to add up to "being found wanting."
So I shall do more research until I find a way to serve that seems right and proper to me. And until then I hope I can pay Random Acts of Kindness forward as much and as often as possible. I hope you'll do the same.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Project "I Could Never..."
I don't know about you, but I know for a fact that I can't count the number of times I've said the words "I could never [fill in the blank]." Now, normally, this would not bother me in the least, but recently I have become rather painfully aware of some of my more unattractive deficiencies, one of the most troublesome being that I am very VERY good at stopping myself from doing....well, a lot of things.
For example, my former housemate Kelsey is at this very moment teaching English in Korea. Elizabeth, another former sharer-of-ground-floor-bathroom-ness has uprooted herself for the purpose of planting three years worth of roots in Uganda. My fellow BISPer and Pemberely dweller Sam moved to a completely new city last year to attend Grad school--sight unseen. My favorite Texan does things like running marathons, enrolling in Boot Camp-like fitness programs for the sole purpose of bettering herself, and then, of course, there's the Law School thing. These are things I Could Never Do.
Or could I?
Somehow, (and, in all honesty, I really have no idea how) it came to be that even at the possibility-rich, option-filled, tender young age of I-don't-even-know-how-old I made a crucial decision in my life. I said "I can't." (More than likely the real phrase was "I won't," followed, accompanied, and/or preceded by some waterworks, I have no doubt.) And just like that, the course of my life began to change dramatically with every instance in which I spoke those words. (Okay, maybe not...but go with me here.) Because of course, on some occasions these words absolutely needed to be said (i.e.- Doing long division without a calculator, remembering all the words to "Stairway to Heaven" at the drop of a hat, or running around the dirt track of my elementary school as the same speed as Stevie Wiesner.)
But more often than not, what I really meant to say and did not have the heart or guts or sense of self-worth so to do was, quite simply, "I will not do X." And for me personally, that was usually because I was too scared or embarrassed to take action when passivity and indifference were, at the time, perfectly acceptable alternatives.
And look at everything I missed out on because of it. I never told my high school crush how much I liked him. I never tried out for a play at my school or community theatre or even took an acting class in college because I told myself I had no talent. I stopped writing poetry because I convinced myself that my work wasn't of any real value. I hid in my dorm-room for the vast majority of my time at Whitworth because I was afraid of meeting new people and being rejected and ignored all over again. I never applied to the Grad programs I loved because I am scared to death of the prospect of competitive academia. And I have no one to blame for it but me.
So, (finally,) I have decided to do something about it.
My dear readers, I present to you: Project "I Could Never..."
In reality it is nothing more than a visual reminder and digital incentive for me to challenge the 23 years of assumptions I have made about myself, starting with the goal of crossing off three things this summer that I previously thought I Could Never Do.
The first one will be manifested when I move my curser over the obnoxiously orange button on the bottom of this screen and press the "Publish Post" button. Because, you see, I always thought I Could Never Tell Anyone the things that I regret the most about the way I've lived my life, or the fragile and deeply personal hope I have about changing that.
I freely and heartily invite you to join me on my journey during what will hopefully become known as The Summer of Project "I Could Never." If you want to post your own "Nevers" in comments, facebook messages, e-mails, or even privately for no one but yourself, I encourage you to do so, and hope to keep you up to date about the progress of tackling my personal "Nevers" and hope you'll do the same.
Here's to strength:
May we gain more with each passing day;
To wisdom:
May it be like sugar in our tea (a little goes a long way;)
And to hope:
May it flourish like the summer sun that (we hope) has come to stay.
See, I told you my poetry needs work.
For example, my former housemate Kelsey is at this very moment teaching English in Korea. Elizabeth, another former sharer-of-ground-floor-bathroom-ness has uprooted herself for the purpose of planting three years worth of roots in Uganda. My fellow BISPer and Pemberely dweller Sam moved to a completely new city last year to attend Grad school--sight unseen. My favorite Texan does things like running marathons, enrolling in Boot Camp-like fitness programs for the sole purpose of bettering herself, and then, of course, there's the Law School thing. These are things I Could Never Do.
Or could I?
Somehow, (and, in all honesty, I really have no idea how) it came to be that even at the possibility-rich, option-filled, tender young age of I-don't-even-know-how-old I made a crucial decision in my life. I said "I can't." (More than likely the real phrase was "I won't," followed, accompanied, and/or preceded by some waterworks, I have no doubt.) And just like that, the course of my life began to change dramatically with every instance in which I spoke those words. (Okay, maybe not...but go with me here.) Because of course, on some occasions these words absolutely needed to be said (i.e.- Doing long division without a calculator, remembering all the words to "Stairway to Heaven" at the drop of a hat, or running around the dirt track of my elementary school as the same speed as Stevie Wiesner.)
But more often than not, what I really meant to say and did not have the heart or guts or sense of self-worth so to do was, quite simply, "I will not do X." And for me personally, that was usually because I was too scared or embarrassed to take action when passivity and indifference were, at the time, perfectly acceptable alternatives.
And look at everything I missed out on because of it. I never told my high school crush how much I liked him. I never tried out for a play at my school or community theatre or even took an acting class in college because I told myself I had no talent. I stopped writing poetry because I convinced myself that my work wasn't of any real value. I hid in my dorm-room for the vast majority of my time at Whitworth because I was afraid of meeting new people and being rejected and ignored all over again. I never applied to the Grad programs I loved because I am scared to death of the prospect of competitive academia. And I have no one to blame for it but me.
So, (finally,) I have decided to do something about it.
My dear readers, I present to you: Project "I Could Never..."
In reality it is nothing more than a visual reminder and digital incentive for me to challenge the 23 years of assumptions I have made about myself, starting with the goal of crossing off three things this summer that I previously thought I Could Never Do.
The first one will be manifested when I move my curser over the obnoxiously orange button on the bottom of this screen and press the "Publish Post" button. Because, you see, I always thought I Could Never Tell Anyone the things that I regret the most about the way I've lived my life, or the fragile and deeply personal hope I have about changing that.
I freely and heartily invite you to join me on my journey during what will hopefully become known as The Summer of Project "I Could Never." If you want to post your own "Nevers" in comments, facebook messages, e-mails, or even privately for no one but yourself, I encourage you to do so, and hope to keep you up to date about the progress of tackling my personal "Nevers" and hope you'll do the same.
Here's to strength:
May we gain more with each passing day;
To wisdom:
May it be like sugar in our tea (a little goes a long way;)
And to hope:
May it flourish like the summer sun that (we hope) has come to stay.
See, I told you my poetry needs work.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Role Reversal
Tonight is Prom night in my hometown. Tonight hundreds of teens are getting dressed up, going out, and...well, you can finish that sentence as you see fit. Five years ago I was among them. God, that feels like so long ago. And yet, I don't know that I've traveled very far from that place--that place in life where you dress up and pretend to be a grown-up, where you think that because you've had some education you are therefore a walking encyclopedia of knowledge; that place where you believe that adventure and excitement and opportunity are all freely available to you if only you will seize upon them, and where you have been told that things "can only get better from here."
And while I catch myself laughing at the naivety of the young people I see around me, sometimes I have to stop and wonder if I am so very different from those I am so quick to judge. Am I so very different in being painfully aware of my HERE-NESS, especially in contrast to the ELSEWHERE-NESS of most of my friends? Am I any less cocky for having four extra years of edification to call mine? And really, other than a few numbers difference on our ID, what is there to show the world that I am utterly unlike the 16-year-olds I served food to and cleaned up after this evening?
...I hear about people from high school and college who are getting big important "adult" jobs, having babies, going back to school, or moving across the country and I tell myself that I'm happy for them and not at all jealous. And 90% of the time I really do feel proud of those I love. I want them to be happy and successful in life and in love. But damn it, I want that for me too. I want to KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is a master plan of perpetual journey tramping to be had by me, and that this game of "dress up" and "pretend" is more than just an exercise in preparation for some distant time to come. I don't want to wake up and realize that life, like some kind of horror film or inescapable dream, is merely an extension of high school.
Now wouldn't that be a nightmare.
And while I catch myself laughing at the naivety of the young people I see around me, sometimes I have to stop and wonder if I am so very different from those I am so quick to judge. Am I so very different in being painfully aware of my HERE-NESS, especially in contrast to the ELSEWHERE-NESS of most of my friends? Am I any less cocky for having four extra years of edification to call mine? And really, other than a few numbers difference on our ID, what is there to show the world that I am utterly unlike the 16-year-olds I served food to and cleaned up after this evening?
...I hear about people from high school and college who are getting big important "adult" jobs, having babies, going back to school, or moving across the country and I tell myself that I'm happy for them and not at all jealous. And 90% of the time I really do feel proud of those I love. I want them to be happy and successful in life and in love. But damn it, I want that for me too. I want to KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is a master plan of perpetual journey tramping to be had by me, and that this game of "dress up" and "pretend" is more than just an exercise in preparation for some distant time to come. I don't want to wake up and realize that life, like some kind of horror film or inescapable dream, is merely an extension of high school.
Now wouldn't that be a nightmare.
Friday, April 8, 2011
News!
...But, for the record, "the unknown" (at least in an exciting manner) will, for now, have to wait.
That is because I FINALLY got a job of a semi-permanent sort. I started waiting tables at a wonderful place here in my home town and I think I like it so far. It's a far cry from digging trenches or German math homework, but I 'll take it for the learning experience it will no doubt provide. One would hope. And the chance to make a little money. One most definitely hopes. Hurrah!
Also, in my fervor for a sense of direction as regards my future edification, I have come to realize that, as with most things in life, there really is not a "perfect time" to do anything. And so, the great and seemingly-never-ending search for M.A.s of Awesomeness continues, if perhaps more slowly than before, as I must now shift my focus to my new employment and only occasionally obsess over the pros and cons of GRE prep courses and/or grad school in general. Though CU Boulder is looking better and better these days...(um, can you say "cha-ching?")
But let's please do ignore me for a moment and direct our attention to some people who have actually managed to make some really hard yet awesomely exciting decisions recently:
Congratulations are most notably due to my dear friends Libby, Aubrey and Devin who recently decided to join the ranks of BU, WWU, and Vanderbilt Law, respectively. I tell you what, dear readers, these ladies are some of the most intelligent women I have ever met--and on top of that, they are kickassinyourfacecrazyawesome. The world of higher academia is lucky to have them. And so am I.
That is because I FINALLY got a job of a semi-permanent sort. I started waiting tables at a wonderful place here in my home town and I think I like it so far. It's a far cry from digging trenches or German math homework, but I 'll take it for the learning experience it will no doubt provide. One would hope. And the chance to make a little money. One most definitely hopes. Hurrah!
Also, in my fervor for a sense of direction as regards my future edification, I have come to realize that, as with most things in life, there really is not a "perfect time" to do anything. And so, the great and seemingly-never-ending search for M.A.s of Awesomeness continues, if perhaps more slowly than before, as I must now shift my focus to my new employment and only occasionally obsess over the pros and cons of GRE prep courses and/or grad school in general. Though CU Boulder is looking better and better these days...(um, can you say "cha-ching?")
But let's please do ignore me for a moment and direct our attention to some people who have actually managed to make some really hard yet awesomely exciting decisions recently:
Congratulations are most notably due to my dear friends Libby, Aubrey and Devin who recently decided to join the ranks of BU, WWU, and Vanderbilt Law, respectively. I tell you what, dear readers, these ladies are some of the most intelligent women I have ever met--and on top of that, they are kickassinyourfacecrazyawesome. The world of higher academia is lucky to have them. And so am I.
Oh, and, double-plus-bonus?
They are dog people : )
T.J., Gatsby, and Indy for the win!
Sunday, April 3, 2011
School and Life and Mountains
I've been thinking about school a lot lately. I miss the desks. I miss slamming my Norton down on the wood with zealousness and scribbling notes about Elizabethan politics as fast as I can. I miss sitting cross-legged on the tables upstairs in the classrooms in Westminster, reading and re-reading Lear's lines while a classmate cross-references them against a later text. I miss having heated yet beautifully friendly debates with my peers about everything from the merits of fictional characters to the impact of the 16th century Church on modern society. I miss sweating buckets over a presentation that took two people three days and information from four different libraries to complete. (Ok, so I don't miss the perspiration so much as the jubilation that followed.) And I miss the realization that one completed task meant one more mountain climbed, providing guidance and experience to drawn from in all the expeditions to come.
But at this moment I confess to feeling ill-equipped to surmount the next obstacle in my life. School, while indeed challenging, always had a trail, made clearly visible by the countless students who had gone before. Postgraduate life appears to be devoid of any such aids. Perhaps that is why I struggle with it so?
Maybe these new challenges are a kind of cosmic smoke-signal or footprint in the sand meant to lead me back where I began. After all, I feel quite at home in academia, so why not return to base camp and start the journey afresh from a vantage point I am familiar with?
But then I think, hell, maybe striking out on an as-yet un-blazed trail would be better for me! Somebody had to be the first to summit Everest, right? And perhaps, if I'm lucky, I will find illumination in the perspective brought by the view that few ever see, and from the journey that leads not back to the familiar, but onward, into the unknown...
But at this moment I confess to feeling ill-equipped to surmount the next obstacle in my life. School, while indeed challenging, always had a trail, made clearly visible by the countless students who had gone before. Postgraduate life appears to be devoid of any such aids. Perhaps that is why I struggle with it so?
Maybe these new challenges are a kind of cosmic smoke-signal or footprint in the sand meant to lead me back where I began. After all, I feel quite at home in academia, so why not return to base camp and start the journey afresh from a vantage point I am familiar with?
But then I think, hell, maybe striking out on an as-yet un-blazed trail would be better for me! Somebody had to be the first to summit Everest, right? And perhaps, if I'm lucky, I will find illumination in the perspective brought by the view that few ever see, and from the journey that leads not back to the familiar, but onward, into the unknown...
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
A Remarkable Read
"I remember how easily we used to talk, endlessly, making plans, deciding where we'd be in one and two and three years' time, and I don't remember mentioning this."
"We talked about other people, saying do you remember when, and how funny was that, and I wonder what happened to."
"I didn't know what to do, there was a feeling of time running out and a loss of momentum, of opportunities wasted."
"We spent our days on the front doorstep, circling job adverts with optimistic red felt-pens, trying to make plans, talking about traveling, or moving to London, or opening a cafe, each plan sounding definite until the next morning."
"A time of easy certainty had come to an end, and most of us had lost our nerve."
"...there is too much to know and I don't know where to begin but I want to try."
The above sounds frighteningly like the transcription of recent conversations I have had with friends and family.
In actually fact however, these quotations are taken from Jon McGregor's , If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things. I picked it up because of the title while trolling for a good read in my native tongue in a train station bookstore in Zurich in November. It is a remarkable book. It reminds me of my life in the way that Hrabal does with Hanta. It's almost frightening how familiar are McGregor's characters and how beautiful his prose. Each section feed the anticipation for the next, yet it is in truth more poetic than prosaic, so masterfully understated as to keep the audience guessing until the very end.
In a manner borrowed from the great Vic Bobb, I give this novel a grade of A.
I hope you read and I hope you enjoy, for at times when I tried everything, "I blocked my ears with the bedcovers, I breathed slowly and deeply, I counted to a hundred, I counted to five hundred. I gave up eventually, and put the light on, and sat up in bed to read," McGregor's work was close at hand.
But now that I've finished it, what shall I read next, dear readers?
"We talked about other people, saying do you remember when, and how funny was that, and I wonder what happened to."
"I didn't know what to do, there was a feeling of time running out and a loss of momentum, of opportunities wasted."
"We spent our days on the front doorstep, circling job adverts with optimistic red felt-pens, trying to make plans, talking about traveling, or moving to London, or opening a cafe, each plan sounding definite until the next morning."
"A time of easy certainty had come to an end, and most of us had lost our nerve."
"...there is too much to know and I don't know where to begin but I want to try."
The above sounds frighteningly like the transcription of recent conversations I have had with friends and family.
In actually fact however, these quotations are taken from Jon McGregor's , If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things. I picked it up because of the title while trolling for a good read in my native tongue in a train station bookstore in Zurich in November. It is a remarkable book. It reminds me of my life in the way that Hrabal does with Hanta. It's almost frightening how familiar are McGregor's characters and how beautiful his prose. Each section feed the anticipation for the next, yet it is in truth more poetic than prosaic, so masterfully understated as to keep the audience guessing until the very end.
In a manner borrowed from the great Vic Bobb, I give this novel a grade of A.
I hope you read and I hope you enjoy, for at times when I tried everything, "I blocked my ears with the bedcovers, I breathed slowly and deeply, I counted to a hundred, I counted to five hundred. I gave up eventually, and put the light on, and sat up in bed to read," McGregor's work was close at hand.
But now that I've finished it, what shall I read next, dear readers?
Friday, February 4, 2011
The Five W's and the All Important H
There is little doubt in my mind dear reader that you, like every good gumshoe or sixth grade essayist before you, know all too well the importance of a collection of six, simple, all too common English words.
Alas, I myself never knew that these seemingly harmless terms, so vital to every good English major's lexicon, would one day return to haunt my dreams and disturb my waking hours with such subtle yet crippling force.
They are, of course:
Who
What
When
Where
Why
(and)
How
as in:
Who are you?
What are you doing? (with your life/ with your degree/ with your weekend, etc.)
When are you going to grow up and get a life worthy or respect ( and a paycheck?)
Where do you plan to be in six months/ five years/ ten years?
Why are you doing--or not doing, as the case may be--what you should/ were told/ feel you ought?
And of course, the all important...
How are you going to accomplish _______/ pay for _______/ get to _______ achieve ________?
Answer: I Have No Idea.
Good Lord.
How I miss the good old not so distant days when the hardest questions I had to face were:
Who do you admire most?
What good books have you read lately?
When is lunch?
Where did I put my keys?
Why did he buy 16 cases of Easy-Mac?
How did she get on the roof?!
Ah, yes. Simpler times! Who has stolen you from me? What has caused you to abandon my company? When shall I ever see you again? Where have you gone? Why have you forsaken me? How shall I ever survive in this new and infinitely more complicated age in which I find myself?
Oh...I wish I knew!
They are, of course:
Who
What
When
Where
Why
(and)
How
as in:
Who are you?
What are you doing? (with your life/ with your degree/ with your weekend, etc.)
When are you going to grow up and get a life worthy or respect ( and a paycheck?)
Where do you plan to be in six months/ five years/ ten years?
Why are you doing--or not doing, as the case may be--what you should/ were told/ feel you ought?
And of course, the all important...
How are you going to accomplish _______/ pay for _______/ get to _______ achieve ________?
Answer: I Have No Idea.
Good Lord.
How I miss the good old not so distant days when the hardest questions I had to face were:
Who do you admire most?
What good books have you read lately?
When is lunch?
Where did I put my keys?
Why did he buy 16 cases of Easy-Mac?
How did she get on the roof?!
Ah, yes. Simpler times! Who has stolen you from me? What has caused you to abandon my company? When shall I ever see you again? Where have you gone? Why have you forsaken me? How shall I ever survive in this new and infinitely more complicated age in which I find myself?
Oh...I wish I knew!
Thursday, January 20, 2011
I Wish I Knew
I find myself saying the above rather a lot lately.
Sometimes it is in answer to the kindly-meant yet oh-so-annoying queries about what my plans are for the future. All the other times it is one of many not-so-helpful phrases that chase each other around the inside of my head until I make the probably rash decision to blog about it. Go me.
I don't have a plan anymore.
I was a student. (Alas, poor Yorick!)
I was a nanny. (That was great, but, again...done for now.)
I try to work. (That doesn't get much farther than the kind-hearted family friends who pity me and thus allow me to watch their dogs for long weekends.)
I read a lot.
I research schools in half a dozen fields until I don't even know why I looked them up in the first place.
I job hunt on every website I've ever heard of until my eyes feel like they'll fall out, only to realize that I am unqualified for 90% of them. All the others would require me to move to Kansas.
(Insert appropriately descriptive yet forceful expletive of your choice here)
Thus, in a effort to distract myself from life for a while and perhaps even gain some perspective on my current situation I did what any self-respecting youth of my generation would do: I popped some popcorn and settled in to watch a classic of the John Hughes persuasion, St. Elmo's Fire, one of my personal favorites in any case and all the more now that I can personally identify with its characters (god help me.) Oh, and if you haven't seen it, shame on you and before you read any further I insist you go rent it and watch it for yourself. If you have a soul and a healthy apprciation for all things 80s I know you'll love it.
During the course of the film a group of post-collegiate friends attempt to navigate the rocky road of adult life and at a key moment near the end Rob Lowe's character describes St. Elmo's Fire as "flashes of light that appear in dark skies out of nowhere. Sailors would guide entire journeys by it, but the joke was on them. There was no fire. There wasn't even a St. Elmo...They made it up because they thought they needed it to keep them going when times got tough."
Well, I won't lie. I wouldn't mind a little flash of St. Elmo's Fire in my life right about now. For like the character of Jules, I too confess to feeling oh so tired. I never thought I'd be so tired at 23. It almost makes me sad, knowing that never again in my life am I going to have the "opportunities" that I do right now. I simple wish they would look a little less like dead ends with caution tape and signs that say DANGER and a little more like friendly fuzzy woodland creatures who have come to help me clean up my life.
Therefore...
Now Hiring:
Life Coach (aka Fairy Godmother, aka Talking Tree, aka Giver of Guidance and Jell-O Shots, aka Rob Lowe circa 1985)
Duties:
(1) Using divine oracle or any other means necessary, provide sound advise and sage counsel in the matter(s) of one's occupational future, geographic settlement options, edification and directional determination thereof, financial stabilization, etc.
(2) Stick around long enough to witness the fruition of one or more of the above.
(3) If applicable, kick one's ass to achieve appropriate outcome.
Qualifications:
(1) Must embrace insomnia, sarcasm, BBC movie marathons, Bob Dylan, and the potential consumption of copious amounts of mint chip ice cream.
(2) Must have experience with procrastination (documentation of successful conquest preferred).
(3) Must have read (and loved to the point of impropriety) Bohumil Hrabal's Too Loud A Solitude.
Compensation:
Ah, there's the rub.
Applications are now being accepted.
Thank you for your consideration.
Sometimes it is in answer to the kindly-meant yet oh-so-annoying queries about what my plans are for the future. All the other times it is one of many not-so-helpful phrases that chase each other around the inside of my head until I make the probably rash decision to blog about it. Go me.
I don't have a plan anymore.
I was a student. (Alas, poor Yorick!)
I was a nanny. (That was great, but, again...done for now.)
I try to work. (That doesn't get much farther than the kind-hearted family friends who pity me and thus allow me to watch their dogs for long weekends.)
I read a lot.
I research schools in half a dozen fields until I don't even know why I looked them up in the first place.
I job hunt on every website I've ever heard of until my eyes feel like they'll fall out, only to realize that I am unqualified for 90% of them. All the others would require me to move to Kansas.
(Insert appropriately descriptive yet forceful expletive of your choice here)
Thus, in a effort to distract myself from life for a while and perhaps even gain some perspective on my current situation I did what any self-respecting youth of my generation would do: I popped some popcorn and settled in to watch a classic of the John Hughes persuasion, St. Elmo's Fire, one of my personal favorites in any case and all the more now that I can personally identify with its characters (god help me.) Oh, and if you haven't seen it, shame on you and before you read any further I insist you go rent it and watch it for yourself. If you have a soul and a healthy apprciation for all things 80s I know you'll love it.
During the course of the film a group of post-collegiate friends attempt to navigate the rocky road of adult life and at a key moment near the end Rob Lowe's character describes St. Elmo's Fire as "flashes of light that appear in dark skies out of nowhere. Sailors would guide entire journeys by it, but the joke was on them. There was no fire. There wasn't even a St. Elmo...They made it up because they thought they needed it to keep them going when times got tough."
Well, I won't lie. I wouldn't mind a little flash of St. Elmo's Fire in my life right about now. For like the character of Jules, I too confess to feeling oh so tired. I never thought I'd be so tired at 23. It almost makes me sad, knowing that never again in my life am I going to have the "opportunities" that I do right now. I simple wish they would look a little less like dead ends with caution tape and signs that say DANGER and a little more like friendly fuzzy woodland creatures who have come to help me clean up my life.
Therefore...
Now Hiring:
Life Coach (aka Fairy Godmother, aka Talking Tree, aka Giver of Guidance and Jell-O Shots, aka Rob Lowe circa 1985)
Duties:
(1) Using divine oracle or any other means necessary, provide sound advise and sage counsel in the matter(s) of one's occupational future, geographic settlement options, edification and directional determination thereof, financial stabilization, etc.
(2) Stick around long enough to witness the fruition of one or more of the above.
(3) If applicable, kick one's ass to achieve appropriate outcome.
Qualifications:
(1) Must embrace insomnia, sarcasm, BBC movie marathons, Bob Dylan, and the potential consumption of copious amounts of mint chip ice cream.
(2) Must have experience with procrastination (documentation of successful conquest preferred).
(3) Must have read (and loved to the point of impropriety) Bohumil Hrabal's Too Loud A Solitude.
Compensation:
Ah, there's the rub.
Applications are now being accepted.
Thank you for your consideration.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
There and Back Again
"Well, I'm back." - Samwise Gamgee
I recently returned from my latest adventure. I left my temporary post as nanny and cook and driver and housekeeper and teacher and confidant and humble guest of the family Bruesch and made my way home again. I find myself, not unlike Tolkien's gardening Hobbit in many ways, to be changed because of it, yet somewhat unable to articulate just what happened in full detail to each who inquire.
In many ways I am glade to be done as I can now enjoy a few creature comforts that were unavailable to me for a while:
- Liberal amounts of confidence and courage, preferably in equal measure. (Not that there is something intrinsically confident about Europeans...oh, wait... Regardless, I wish merely to provide myself with strength enough to endure whatever lies ahead, for like Tolkein's brave little gardener, I have no aspirations of grandeur save those of a job well done. Now I just have to find said job...)
Overall though, this past year has provided me with a great many adventures and hilarious moments. It is therefore my sincere hope that the coming year brings with it no less than the year before. And to all of you, my dear readers, I thank you for the part you have played in those momentous adventures. As Mr. Frodo would say, "I am glad to be with you."
I recently returned from my latest adventure. I left my temporary post as nanny and cook and driver and housekeeper and teacher and confidant and humble guest of the family Bruesch and made my way home again. I find myself, not unlike Tolkien's gardening Hobbit in many ways, to be changed because of it, yet somewhat unable to articulate just what happened in full detail to each who inquire.
In many ways I am glade to be done as I can now enjoy a few creature comforts that were unavailable to me for a while:
- I no longer have to ration my q-tips, my body wash, or strategically plan when and how to do my laundry.
- I have the constant company and comfort of my cat, as well as the family dog.
- I have unending electricity with which to charge my computer and phone and ipod...all at the same time.
- I have unlimited access to Starbucks Chai tea and Subwich subs.
- I can read menus again and need not consult Google Translate before trying to use a cookbook or packaged instructions!
While I reconnect will all of these wonderful luxuries I also want to be mindful of the benefits of my experience and those of "a simple life" in particular. I know I can't recreate the little life I had in Malix, but at the very least I intend to embrace the advent of the new year and thus send this, my "resolution," out into the great wide web: It is my hope that I will be able to identify and incorporate those aspects of European living that appeal to me into this, my American Life. Specifically I intend to focus on the following:
- A little more order. (No, that's not it...not exactly...I want rhythm. I want a slower feel to my life than that which I knew in college and in all the years before or since.)
- A little less fear. (I don't know if it's just me, but it seems that as Americans we are given far more than our fair dose of suspicion and caution and prejudice and just-enough-knowledge-to-scare-rather-than-inform us. I feel that this fear creates division between those who could learn a lot from and teach a lot to one another, if only we had the patients so to do.)
- A splash of productivity. (Not too much, for fear of being consumed with the desire for money-making or application-sending or blog-writing. Rather, I desire a pursuit that will render me of use to myself and to my fellow man.)
-A touch of "challenge." (Maybe not the kind that requires 72-hour cram sessions or getting ill-tempered children to finish their math homework, but part of me nevertheless desires to have the element of puzzles to be solved and tasks to be completed back in my life.)
-A touch of "challenge." (Maybe not the kind that requires 72-hour cram sessions or getting ill-tempered children to finish their math homework, but part of me nevertheless desires to have the element of puzzles to be solved and tasks to be completed back in my life.)
- Liberal amounts of confidence and courage, preferably in equal measure. (Not that there is something intrinsically confident about Europeans...oh, wait... Regardless, I wish merely to provide myself with strength enough to endure whatever lies ahead, for like Tolkein's brave little gardener, I have no aspirations of grandeur save those of a job well done. Now I just have to find said job...)
Overall though, this past year has provided me with a great many adventures and hilarious moments. It is therefore my sincere hope that the coming year brings with it no less than the year before. And to all of you, my dear readers, I thank you for the part you have played in those momentous adventures. As Mr. Frodo would say, "I am glad to be with you."
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