home

Living at home is truly a surreal experience after being away for a number of years. Quite a number of years actually. It hasn't been all that bad..I mean, moving from a one room cell to well, a fully furnished and fully stocked apartment where necessities like laundry and groceries are miraculously taken care of again..is..nice. Not to give the impression that I am completly mooching off my parents...But, this really was their idea. And the idea is that after I get a masters and a real job, I will be able to afford to live on my own and can finally self-sufficiently not live at home.

But, I digress. My original point was that the idea of living at home stirs quite a variety of emotions. Comfort, frustration, satisfaction, isolation..and reading that over, I realize I have just constructed my own set of oxymorans. But, that is the point. On one hand, I feel content to come home and know that I won't be completly alone pouring out a box of pasta for dinner and watching Seinfeld (not that there is anything wrong with that). I know that if I am feeling down, I will have someone to talk to who knows me better than anyone else in the world..and that is a good thing. But, other times, I feel so trapped. Like, just a few moments ago, I was walking from my bed to the window..which sometimes can be a momumental feat since the floor is usually covered in clothing, shoes, papers, bags..etc..This is especially dangerous in the dark. And in the process, I stepped on an old report of mine..old in the literal sense. This was a report I had written in fifth grade. It was a book report about the Galapogous Islands told from the point of a turtle that lived there. I remember having a great deal of fun combining all of my research from all the library books into the voice of this turtle. I even illustrated the book and I thought my drawing of the turtle was very cute. Anyway, I remember this report very clearly. I was proud of it and I think I did well on it. But, tonight, when I stepped on it, I was not feeling pride or accomplishment...on the contrary, I was suddenly filled with anger and frustration. Here I am trapped inside my childhood room where I cannot even successfully cross from one side to the other without trampeling on a piece of my past which is so far removed from my life in the present, which it should be since I am no longer in 5th grade!

The point I am trying to make in a circumvented sort of way is that I feel so stuck sometimes. Really downright stuck. My room has certaintly changed since I was a kid..yet it still has its remnants of hot pink furniture, abundant stuffed animals and fully furnished dollhouse, not to mention this archive of school book reports, research papers, old letters and photos encased in my overstocked and disorderly desk. And I am not one to throw these things away since they do mean something to me. They were pivotally important to me at one point and I still feel a sense of nostalgia looking back at them. I just wish I could stuff everything from the past into boxes and hide them away so that I can be 23 right now and not a kid in elementary school.

So, this is why I am going to move out soon. Well...soon as in not really very soon at all but in the scope of a lifetime..pretty soon..And my new home will represent my new life as an adult...and it will have a grown-up bed that isn't teeny tiny and a grown-up dresser and a grown-up cabinet to make files to put grown-up documents into and when I look into my grown-up mirror I will see me as an adult and not a child. Until I turn around and look at all my favorite stuffed animals on the bed:)

They come with me adult or not.

Little Earthquakes

I have now completed both quarter life crisis books. I enjoy reading someone's thoughts on the subject when they very frequently echo my own.

Now that I've had a while of post college life of my own, I think I am entitled to make my personal list of survival tips.

1. Always listen to your inner voice. I know we all have one..sometimes it's dormant especially when you are comfortable in whatever setting you are in..expressing your opinions, fears doubts to the reliable and trustworthy ears of your company..but other times, when you are not so fortunate to express yourself so freely, the inner voice starts speaking louder. You can ignore it all you want but if it is voicing valid issues, you have to listen. And then, you have to act. And it's the acting part that is always the hardest.

2. Don't discard your friends. We go through life trying to amass a large array of "friends." We think if we have an impressive list of friends, we must be friendworthy, cool, smart and fun people. But, really..take a close look at that list and then circle in another color ink which friends you can really deem friends. And then, simply put, treasure them. If they can stand to pick up the phone at 2am and listen to another one of your -why hasen't he/she called me yet? rants, this person is a keeper.
It's your friends who are there to pick up the pieces if things don't exactly work out. Or, on a less dramatic level. when life isn't smiling on you, its the true friends who can pick you up in spirit. I am thankful for the true friends in my life.

3. Your parents are not always wrong. We go through a certain amount of life convinced that we must somehow outsmart them and prove our extreme independence and intelligence. If mom looks the other way, just for a split second, I can subtly toss another chocolate into my mouth before she turns back. I don't know how many times I confided in friends or my journal that my parents didn't understand, they were so unfair and how could they be so cruel. I kept this same mentality after graduating college. When they both criticized my year after college plan, this fueled my fire even more. How dare they try to stop me from attaining my dream,my individuality? Don't they see that I have figured it out already..I've done the math.

Well, sometimes you have apparently forgotten very key aspects in your post college plan. You kept shushing your parents over the dinner table when they brought up valid points..like how to afford to live on your own with only a part-time check, no health benefits and lots of car insurance to pay. This is when it is good to have the smarts to clear away your selfish pride and listen. They might just be onto something. They are your parents. And believe it or not, they too were 23 at some point in their lives, post the dinosaurs. :)

4. Talk to people. For someone a bit more introverted and self-conscious than most, this is no small feat. But, it is necessary. Making new aquaintances can not happen if you isolate yourself in your 2 by 4 box of a room or glue yourself to the latest netflex shipments. Go to parties of friends of friends knowing that you clearly don't know anyone there. Drink some wine and then start talking. Read new best sellars right off the presses and the ny times editorial section (ok, perhaps the latter two points are favored toward another english major like myself), make eye contact (yes, that even includes you, you ghetto New Yorkers, give this one a try). Find past friends on the internet, hey, why not. Our parents lacked that luxury. Milk the 21st century for all it's worth.

5. Emote. Yes, even the males in the room can try this one. Laugh, cry, run, punch something. Lock the door and let the day's frustrations out before they become so repressive that you finally have a 3-yr old temper tamtrum in the back of the taxi during rush hour.
Better yet, breathe.

6. Write. Are we picking up on a pattern here? So, maybe we are fortunate at the present moment not to be starving, freezing, devoid of food and shelter, but getting through a day in the life of a twenty something yr old filled with worry and anguish can often be anything but easy. And it's not going to get easier by hiding your feelings. Try to accept the fact that these years in your life may not come with an instruction manual, things may be a little fuzzy..and do things that make you feel better.
-Have that scoop of Haiggan Daz coffee icecream
-take a long hot shower
-blast your favorite song
-write a nasty and derogatory email to someone who has hurt you and read it outloud, send it to your best friend to scrutinize over every semi-colan, and and then delete it. Yes, this does really work.

And lastly, have a little patience. It's called baby steps people.
Enjoy the little things.

I don't want to grow up

Yup. Growing up is hard to do. It's really painful actually. Over the past couple months, I have gotten turned down from jobs I really wanted, been given the cold shoulder by people I thought really wanted to be in my life and found myself curled up in the aisles of various Barnes and Noble glued to the self help sections...and the worst part is that I have watched countless other close friends go through the same exact thing. College doesn't prepare you for the rest of your life. If anything, it's a nice little break from time..I remember showing up to my first semester dormitory (oh, why does Dickinson Hall E still reside in my unforsaken memory) and seeing the dry erase boards on everyone's door and I felt like I was in pre-school again..how cute, how quaint..how totally unrealistic..there you are amidst thousands of people your age, clamping your ears during the wee hour booming base thumping through the halls, taking classes in just about anything you want...office hours, theme parties, all nighters, apartment decorating, away messages..Ok, so of course there is studying and stress and projects and crisises...but it is all taking place in this sheltered college life..within the walls of the university. So, life after college...not so easy to adjust to..where did all the friends go that I would see every week at our club meetings? Why can't I walk across campus to hang out with friends my age? Where is my PDI, my college advisor? Why are there no rules after you leave? This is supposed to be the big step..leaving the sheltered campus of hard-earned knowledge and landing your indivual place in the real world.

Almost two years after graduating, I still feel as though I have not landed..landed? I am still circling the run way..Still waiting for that "ah ha" moment when I finally see the path I have spent my life looking for..when the roads converge and the future makes some semblance of sense..Does this ever happen? Will there be that moment in the future? Will it be when I get my first real job..or when I walk down the aisle or when I buy an apartment? I have no idea. My mom is right. She said that the twenties are turbulent. The turbulent twenties.

So, rather than indiviually hitting our heads against a wall, we should all share our frustrations, our fears, our pessimism and gripe together. It's much more productive that way. I think. And hey..maybe if we make it through our twenties, our thirties won't be so bad. ugh. 30. I don't want to be 30.

art, beauty, life

More than anything else, I wish I was an artist. I like to think I have artist intuition and an eye that picks up on aesthetics, but I seem to lack the talent of transferring most of my artisic or below the surface thoughts onto paper or into dialogue or into pliable art. Maybe I don't try hard enough. Maybe if I sat down at the piano for hours and hours each day, I would eventually be able to transfer the melodies I heard in my head onto the keys without the hassle of pressing each key to find the right sound. Maybe if I took up painting in a class or tried to imitate great artists, I could also develop somewhat of a style. For starters, we have this great view at home..it's gorgeous during all seasons..vast amount of trees in the distance, a portion of the immense Hudson River at our finger tips..silent and still during the winter and bustling with life during the spring and summer. An artist could capture that river in words or pictures. An artist could own that river in his description. I think I start to think so much about the act of being an artist when I am engulfed in art itself. At the moment I am reading one of my many fiction novels. Reading is one of my all-time favorite pastimes..slipping away into someone else's head for a while..being captured in their world. And, after I read a few chapters intently, I start to feel the words pouring out of me..I look out the window and start to find poetic phrases to mirror what I am seeing, I start to invent story lines in my head, illustrations to go along. Maybe the key to being a great artist is just that..to surround yourself with great art..or at least to keep the mind occupied. Until then, I will forever be envious of those who can find shapes, structures and fluidity with a paintbrush, create three dimensional people in words and transform a stage with only their body presence. They are the ones who show us just how beautiful life can be.

You are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me

So I seldomly really like a new band. I am usually a music snob..I mean, I have quite an eccletic collection of cd's..everything from ben folds to lincoln park..classical, folk, new age..heck, sometimes I even have to admit that country is sorta catchy..I like bands that write lyrics that mean something..Of course the song usually has to sound good in addition to the lyrics. I like bands that can phrase a thought in my head perfectly..then I like the song better because I can instantly relate to it at that moment.

Anyway, this band I now really like is Death Cab for Cutie..ok..so I guess it isn't new, but I just got into them..I usually get into trends, tv shows late..if ever..so the same applies to me with music. They just have this down to earth tone and lyrics that I can relate to, escpecially recently.

So, check out Plans and Transatlanticism..Both good although the second one is really depressing. It has this great song..#6. I don't know any of the titles..it was burned for me. And it has this great reoccuring line.."You are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me." Hmm..that line just sums up the way so many people think nowadays..in my sad young twenties generation. So..cut throat and cruel. So, I want this now but not tomorrow mentality. So, wrong.

"this is the moment that you knowthat you told you loved her but you don't.you touch her skin and then you thinkthat she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.yeah, she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.
all i see are dark grey cloudsin the distance moving closer with every hourso when you ask "was something wrong?"that i think "you're damn right there is but we can't talk about it now. no, we can't talk about it now."

The other favorite I have is on Plans..What Sarah Said. It builds up to this poignant line nearing the end ..."love is watching someone die"..."so who's gonna watch you when you die." I don't know. That just gives me chills. Combining the two most intimite and unchartered elements I can think of together..love and death. Ah..dark and brooding..just like I like my music.

I haven't really connected with a band since Counting Crows..August and Everything After, a cd I can listen to again and again and never get tired of..especially Sulllivan Street and Round Here. Classics.

Retail

There is something so perfect about retail. It makes sense. Working for a goal. A goal being to sell. To make the products look as desirable as possible so that someone will buy them. And when you see the new space on the shelf, you quickly run to the back room and fill up the space, because space is bad. The eye wans to see a glorious array of neatly stacked merchandise right up to the edge..tempting in it's shiny plastic coat. All the mangled boxes are hidden in the back. I like to climb the ladder, crawl through the backstock, fill the coffee machine, collect the garbage bags..it's a system that makes sense. Things are done; taken care of and at the end of the day, you have the numbers to prove it.
There is a system to adhere to, a reward for working the machine. Inside, the pseudo life of retail makes complete sense. Everything has its place and if it doesn't, you create a new place, a new display to skillfully tempt more prospective buyers. Inside, I don't have to think of everyday's hazy indecisions/gray unknowns/haunting blank spots/question marks. There is only black and white and fast pace-either yes or no-can you or can't you, and it's easy to just focus on the aisles, picking things up, leading customers around-no questions-only action.
Outside is the world that scares me-that I can't figure out-filled with so many people who confuse me-time that continuously taunts me-either going too fast or much too slow.

And to top it off, I treasure the car ride home-the dark roads-no traffic-music on-Nothing but the moving wheels and the silent thoughts. I love to drive.