On Doing Stuff Alone (Part 2)

Thoughts

Today, I had another alone day (although not completely by choice, I’ll admit). I’ve been in Alexandria, Virginia – right outside of Washington DC – for the weekend, and was left today to figure out how exactly to spend my day all by my lonesome.

Surprisingly (or dare I say – unsurprisingly?), I had an amazing day. I started by slowly strolling along the Potomac River and followed some signs to a park where a festival was taking place to commemorate the bicentennial something or other of the War of 1812 (although, given that this is 2014, it’s technically bicentennial + 2 years, no?). As I was about to leave, I caught sight of a bunch of people dressed up in colonial gear with musical instruments – a drum corps from the Army, they marched to the park and proceeded to play patriotic tunes while marching around. Army drum corps in colonial gear, playing patriotic songs in front of the Potomac River – I would say this is as America as it gets. In fact, I think that’s how I would sum up Old Town Alexandria, VA – “As America as it gets.” Anyway, the drum corps was awesome!

Afterwards, I wandered around and saw a cute cobblestone street, walked into a Christmas attic store and did some shopping at a boutique called Lou Lou’s. I then went back to Killer ESP, a coffeeshop where we’d gotten gelato the day before, to grab a salted caramel soy latte (seriously amazing – also, free WiFi at this place!), settle down, and write a birthday card for a friend. All this because I was biding/killing time until a piano performance at the Lyceum by pianist Thomas Pandolfi. I had never heard of him before but was excited by the program, which I’d found online last night.

I was probably one of the only people under the age of 50 at this recital, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I sat in the second row, right in the middle, with an amazing view of the pianist, his hands, and his feet. The program that had been posted online was wrong, so he did not play Chopin’s Fantasie Impromptu or Gershwin’s Rhapsody. He did, however, play Beethoven’s famous Sonata Pathetique as well as various other tunes that I was able to recognize. It reminded me how much I really love classical piano music (with the exception of Debussy – he played two Debussy pieces, including Claire de Lune, and I remembered again how I strongly dislike the impressionisticky/too-lyrical sounds of Debussy). I was especially impressed by the Chopin Etudes and the intimate setting of the concert really engaged me much more than I expected. It also went for two hours – also longer than I’d expected, but again, I was so happy to be there and had such a great time listening and watching him perform.

After the concert, I went to a Greek restaurant that we’d walked past the day before. They had taramasalata on the menu posted outside, so there was no question of where I was going to eat my early dinner. I asked for a table for one and actually had such a wonderful experience. Loved the ambiance of the restaurant, loved the food – the tastes were flavorful and just really delicious – loved the service, and actually really loved eating by myself. I wonder if eating alone (and not being able to talk, really) made me enjoy the food more, because you actually think more about what you’re eating and the flavors that are in your mouth.

It’s interesting because, while I thoroughly enjoyed my day/meal alone, I was texting a friend who expressed being tired of eating alone because it felt lonely. I think that there’s a difference when you eat alone or go out alone because you choose to have an alone day for yourself versus when you eat alone because you’re new to a city or don’t know anyone to go out with. It’s been a cool experiment to try to do stuff myself, but I’m also fully aware that it might seem more “fun” because I’m consciously choosing to go out alone.

Thank you, Alexandria, for a lovely alone day today and for a beautiful weekend. Special thanks to the Navy Band, the Army drum corps and Thomas Pandolfi for the beautiful musical performances this weekend – I’m really starting to recognize how important and meaningful music is (has been, and will be) in my life. I hope to blog more about music in the future as I use this blog to figure out my goals in life, because I’m fairly confident that music is a field I feel particularly drawn to.

On Doing Stuff Alone

Thoughts

A while ago, I got it into my mind that it might be fun to do an activity by myself. Being a natural extrovert, I’m one of those people who dislikes going places alone. But ever since I graduated college and started working, I’ve started really appreciating the little moments I have for myself – and so I wanted to take it a step further. I subsequently decided to sign up for a whitewater rafting trip.

I’ve always wanted to try whitewater rafting, but never thought I’d sign up for it alone. Since each boat usually has 4-6 people, it definitely seemed like one of those activities that you would sign up for with a group of friends. So as the date approached, I found myself feeling wary about going alone and trying to find other people who would go with me. As fate would have it, nobody could/wanted to go – and so I ended up going by myself.

I got to the bus stop and realized, with a sinking feeling, that nobody else was there alone. When I showed my ticket to the guide, he said, “You and her?” pointing to a random girl behind me. I shook my head no: “Nope, just me.” I sat through the bus ride by myself and started wondering if I had been crazy to go on this trip alone!

Once at the rafting site, we milled around waiting for yet another set of buses to take us closer to the river. I wandered by myself for a bit, trying to look – and feel – nonchalant about the fact that I was there by myself. I was relieved to finally board the second set of buses and sat next to a stranger who was part of a group of 5. I wondered if my seatmate’s group thought it was weird that I had just come on alone, but quickly brushed it off.

I ended up on a boat with three other couples – two of the couples were friends, and the other one was separate. And you know what? I had so much fun. Once on the boat, it wasn’t a huge deal if you went with someone or not because conversation was light and easy. The most difficult part for me was probably lunchtime, because the group of four and the other couple separated from each other – and, feeling bad that I had already tagged along for the boat ride, I didn’t want to attach myself to either party. So I stood alone, in the vicinity of my boatmates but not with them – and just ate by myself. In retrospect, it probably wouldn’t have been a big deal to stand with the group and make conversation.

The day overall was such a blast. The weather was absolutely perfect. Our boat ended up working together well enough that one of the guides told us to hang back after lunch so he could show us some more “advanced” routes. And I learned so much about myself.

If I had to describe the day in one word, I would probably use the word “empowering.” I felt empowered that I could go on this activity by myself and feel okay doing it – I even went out to dinner alone afterwards to continue my “alone day.” The biggest takeaway I have from the experience is an old adage: it really doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Any time I worried if I looked weird or awkward, I realized that even if someone was judging me, 1) I would probably never see them again, and 2) I actually felt internally confident so I didn’t really care. I learned to feel rooted in myself, knowing that I had CHOSEN to do the trip alone (well, if you ignore the part where I panicked/backtracked and tried to find friends). I realized that I was secure (and lucky) in knowing that I have family and friends whom I love dearly and that being alone at this one event meant nothing about me.

I really recommend doing an “alone day” – it’s so much fun and it’s nice to enjoy your own company. I wish I’d brought a book to read during dinner (and my phone ran out of battery) but even at dinner, it was so empowering to be confident that I had chosen to be there, alone, eating dinner – and I was happy to be doing so.

On Living Life to the Fullest

Thoughts

Over the last few days, I’ve been thinking a lot about this concept of “living life to the fullest.” I’m starting to feel like all the articles I read seem to imply that living life to the fullest involves one or more of the following: travelling to new countries, going on adventures like climbing to the top of a really tall mountain, meeting strangers in cool places, trying new foods – you get the idea. But the more I think about “living life to the fullest,” the more I feel uncomfortable with how it’s commonly portrayed.

The way I see it, it’s implied that if you spend your entire life in your small town, you’re not living your life to the fullest. It’s implied that if you take the same path to work every day and never take vacations, you’re not living your life to the fullest. It’s implied that if you’re not taking certain chances to go somewhere, to try something new, you’re not living your life to the fullest.

But why should that be true?

What if you spend your entire life in your small town, working hard every single day to build a business in that town because that’s your dream, and you’re 100% happy because you’ve achieved that dream? What if you walk the same path to work every day, stopping to talk to that same street vendor on your way every time, and those conversations are what make life meaningful for you? What if the reason you work every day and never travel is because you’re beyond happy with what you’re doing, where you are, and who’s around you?

I’m dissatisfied with the implications behind “living your life to the fullest” understood by our generation and society. I think that the current image behind this phrase fails to acknowledge individual preferences and invalidates the perfectly valid status quo. It’s one thing if someone is dissatisfied by his day-to-day life, but what about the person who not only is satisfied but also is getting maximum utility from living his life as he always has?

I want to define, for myself, what it means to “live life to the fullest.” And I believe that is how it should be: for every individual, only he can define what exactly it means to live his life to the fullest. As I use this blog to pursue my definition of success, I hope most of all that I stay true to myself in these efforts. I want to live my life to the fullest by continually reaching for those virtues that I value most, even when I’m oh-so-frequently failing to do so. And if I feel inclined to stick in an “adventure” or two to feel fulfilled, I will do so – but I want to do it for me, not because that’s what media tells me I’m missing out on.

At the end of my all-time-forever-favorite book, Little Women, Marmee says, “Oh, my girls, however long you may live, I never can wish you a greater happiness than this!” What I love most about Little Women is that the characters seem to be living the most simple, ordinary lives – yet are so fulfilled in character, values, life; the final quote by the girls’ mother is a perfect way to portray the immense happiness found in their “ordinary” lives.

Living life to the fullest can mean such different things to everyone. In consciously realizing this, I feel so free to be true to myself in pursuing what exactly this means for me!

On Cancer

Thoughts

You know how sometimes people compare gossip to cancer? “Gossip is like a cancer, it can keep spreading until you can no longer stop it. Best to nip it in the bud and stop it while you can.”

The thing is, gossip isn’t like cancer. Because, unlike cancer, each individual has active control over working to stop the gossip. Not cancer, though. Despite your best efforts, your doctor’s best efforts, your family and friends’ best efforts – sometimes it just doesn’t stop.

Here is what I have learned about cancer so far in the last three months:

1) It is stealthy. If you’re lucky, you catch it early. But sometimes you’re not so lucky; you and everyone around you are going on through your day-to-day lives, totally unaware of this sneaky thief that is here to slowly drain you of your health and maybe even your life. And sometimes, by the time you find out, it’s too late. It’s irreparable, past the point of no return, leaving you and your loved ones and your acquaintances and your pets and your everything to face the inevitable end that has just become closer than anyone could’ve imagined. It really is sneaky, you know. How it can just be in your body without you even knowing – invasive, really.

2) It is unfair. I debated between using arbitrary and unfair, but settled upon unfair to express my distaste in cancer’s choice of victims. Forgive me for stating the obvious, but it’s utterly unfair that cancer shortens lives unfilled. Sometimes it feels like the kindest, smartest, funniest, sweetest people have to deal with this monster. And the most patient, loving, supportive caretakers are left to pick up the pieces left in its destructive path. Even regardless of personality, everyone is someone’s somebody – and so it is unfair that cancer exists. It is unfair that a life is cut short; it is unfair that there is suffering; it is unfair that all the treatment in the world might not be enough to stop it.

3) It is hurtful. Maybe it’s weird to describe cancer as “hurtful,” as if it’s some comment that damaged my feelings, as if I feel owed an apology. But it IS hurtful: physically and emotionally for the patients, families and friends. I have watched it hurt those around me in the last three months and felt helpless to stop it. You can pay for the treatments and hope for the best, but cancer doesn’t care and will rage on, or come back, hellbent on hurting everyone in its way. You can cry, and yell, and fight with all your might, but cancer doesn’t care and will go on its selfish way, indifferent – ignorant? – to the hurt it causes. You can love someone with all your heart, but cancer doesn’t care and will crush your heart into a million little pieces, leaving only fragments made up of memories and a love that will always linger.

In the last three months, I’ve learned that cancer will kill, but that somehow, life still goes on. I’ve learned that as it strikes, it brings desperation, desolation, depression to those around it.

In the last three months, I’ve learned to appreciate life as I never have before; I’ve learned how impactful someone can be without your consciously realizing; I’ve learned that tears of hurt are born from a heart of love.

In loving memory of my paternal grandmother, my coworker (current job), and my manager (past job).

On Cheering Up

Thoughts

There have been a few times in the past few months when I’ve wanted to write a post, but I never felt strongly enough about something to write about – so months flew by without me blogging. I hope that I can keep up a more consistent effort to blog – I like it and it’s therapeutic, so why not?

Anyway, I’ve recently been on a campaign to increase my consumption of “grownup” material (read: stop spending so much time on Facebook and Buzzfeed, and move instead to reading news, learning different topics, etc). As a result, I’ve started listening to podcasts from HBR and TedTalks; scanning through different Quora topics in hope of life lessons I can learn, and reading Pulse on my phone for both edu and news purposes. This morning, I read an article titled, “Stop Telling Your Depressed Friends to Cheer Up.”

This is something I’ve heard before but often fail to do. It seems intuitive to turn the conversation into a positive light; I try to “take their mind off it” or “act cheerful” – but deep inside, I can see that this doesn’t always work. At best, it’s a distraction from the actual problem. And at worst, as the article states, it suggests that “the relationship partner does not truly accept or understand their feelings.”

I used to think it was weird when I’d tell someone about my bad day and they would respond with, “I’m sorry.” I’d always reply with, “I mean, it’s not your fault” and create an awkward back-and-forth: “Well, yeah I know it’s not my fault, but I’m just sorry you had a bad day,” to which I’d reply, “Oh, thanks…?” (is “Thanks” a proper response for this? I still don’t know). But I see the validity now in that response, where “I’m sorry” indicates that the listener cares about you and is empathetic enough to feel sad for you or with you.

I’m cringing internally now as I recall giving out this statement when talking to someone who was going through a funk: “I don’t get why you can’t just snap out of it. Just STOP thinking about it.” I took for granted my own happy mood at the time, assuming that it would be just as easy for someone else to “snap out of it” and just BE happy. What I didn’t realize was how hurtful that statement probably was: not only did I fail to understand and validate the person’s feelings, I even actively dismissed it!

As friends, peers, family, there’s only so much we can do; we can only listen to a certain extent before we realize that some problems just don’t go away. And with long-lasting issues like that, it’s best to seek professional help. But as long as I can be a listener and a friend, I hope to keep in mind that “cheering up” is so much easier said than done – I want to try to work on my listening skills, trying to empathize and feel the situation, and just being there for someone that I care about in the simplest ways that I can.

On Volunteering

Thoughts

My dreams of winning $1B a la Warren Buffet’s March Madness bracket contest have long been shattered (let’s be real, was anyone really going to win that?), but I’m enjoying the madness nevertheless. Even though my picks are based on near-zero knowledge of the NCAAB, it’s fun to see the drama unfold.

Today, I came across an article about Adreian Payne, who’s a senior on the basketball team at MSU. I’ve been seeing numerous headlines recently about Payne and his special friendship with his “little sis,” an eight-year-old girl he met when the Spartans visited a hospital. The more I read about this guy, the more I tears I was choking back: how hard Payne worked to fight through his own adolescence is remarkable, but how caring this big guy is to this little girl is just heartbreakingly beautiful.

As I read the articles about how Payne always made time for Princess Lacey, and how the pair text each other, Tweet each other, and truly care about each other, I was struck by their relationship: as far as I could tell, the relationship was not driven by any sort of external factors of wanting fame or recognition on Payne’s part. Each narrative further convinced me that this was a genuine relationship, that Adreian and Lacey love each other in the purest sense of the word. And even though I don’t have a way of knowing that for sure, I’m still so inspired.

I’ve volunteered on a fairly consistent basis throughout the years at various organizations. My intentions start out really genuine: I want to help people, I want to love others, I want to make an impact. But as the weeks wear on, I find myself making excuses for why it’s okay to skip visiting that elderly neighbor, why it’s okay to cancel teaching that piano lesson. And I see in myself selfishness, lazyness, and general disagreeableness; I see my commitments as a burden, myself as a martyr. This is a pattern that’s happened to me over and over again, where I forget why I began to volunteer in the first place and feel only annoyance at the prospect of my time commitment.

I think I’m so drawn to Adreian and Lacey’s relationship because that’s precisely what it is: a relationship. He doesn’t see it as volunteerism, and she doesn’t feel like a cancer patient that’s just being visited by a celebrity making his rounds at the hospital. There are no ulterior motives behind it; Adreian is not doing volunteer work so he can put it on his resume for job applications. Princess Lacey isn’t just looking for an autograph. Because of this, it is so easy for the pair to keep the relationship going strong: theirs is a genuine relationship.

Although this fact might be obvious, I’m so inspired by its simplicity and by its message. As soon as I finished semi-stalking the most beautiful relationship of March Madness, I called up the elderly gentleman I used to visit weekly. I knew what he would say when he picked up the phone, because this is what he always says when I don’t call for a long time: “Susan! Where’d you come from? I thought you’d disappeared!” I always feel a pang of guilt when he says that because I know that he’s lonely and that I stayed away too long, but the mean part of me also feels annoyance. “I’m VOLUNTEERING my free time to come see you,” my arrogant brain thinks, “What right do you have to make me feel GUILTY for letting it be too long before I come by?”

The truth is, I let volunteerism become all about me. What had started, in this case, as a genuine desire to brighten a lonely grandma or grandpa’s life quickly grew into an act of convenience for me, rather than a genuine relationship. But I’m starting to see that humility means seeing volunteering through a new lens: eradicating that label of “volunteer” altogether and seeing, instead, genuine relationships, genuine passion, genuine caring for each other.

I’m sad my bracket is busted, but I gained a far more important lesson this March Madness. Thank you, Adreian and Lacey, for inspiring me and reminding me what it truly means to help one-another.

On Shamrock Shakes

Thoughts

So I started writing a post about Shamrock Shakes because I had my first one of the season today, and promptly deleted it deciding that it was too trivial of a topic (it’s pretty late, so my brain is woozy). However, as soon as I deleted my post, someone I was chatting with online uttered these unforgivable words:

Y: hahahaha what is a shamrock shake

Y: is it that thing at shakeshack

…And so the decision was made that this entry was necessary. I mean, does the topic of “Shamrock Shakes” seem arbitrary and trivial compared to some of my other blog posts? Totally. But do I love Shamrock Shakes enough to dedicate an entire blog post to them? Also totally. So here we have it: a post dedicated to the minty, bright-green shake offered at McD’s come every Feb/March (not Shake Shack. It’s okay, baby steps).

After the long gloom of winter, during which we are blessed only sporadically with glimpses of sunlight, everything around us starts looking kind of gray. The sky is gray, the roads are gray, the snow is gray, dirty, and disgusting – you get the picture. But there is light at the end of the tunnel: the Shamrock Shake inevitably returns at the end of every winter, right in time for Saint Patrick’s Day (hence the name). This burst of bright green is a reminder that a color other than gray exists in this world, that there is hope for renewed plant life again and all is not lost under the perpetual ice/snow/slush of winter.

The Shamrock Shake is primarily composed of sugar, cream, and some kind of bright green food coloring that probably contains cancerous chemicals. Most things composed of sugar and cream end up tasting…well, really good (unless you have a really healthy diet and taste, in which case I commend you). It’s rich, creamy, and smooth, but what makes it unique is the hint of mint that is swirled into this mysterious green drink. Every sip contains a mouthful of deliciousness, way too many calories, and maybe some sort of luck, seeing as it’s a St. Patty’s Day drink. You might be thinking, “Why would I want to go buy this drink if it sounds like it’s made out of ingredients that aren’t healthy for me?”

The answer is because the Shamrock Shake is freaking delicious. It’s alluring and addicting just by itself, with its crisp minty milkshake self topped with whipped cream and a cherry. But it’s also one of those drinks that tastes good with everything else on the McDonald’s menu (not that I’ve tried them all, but I’m just that confident), especially with french fries. Its appearance is green and you know it’s minty, which allows you to manufacture a fallacy that because there are leaves in it (or at least the taste of mint), it might be kind of healthy. In all semi-seriousness, there’s just some magical element in this drink that makes it a must-have every February-March holiday season. Need to celebrate Valentine’s Day? Shamrock Shake date. President’s Day? Toast old George and Abe with a Shamrock Shake. The Shamrock Shake’s limited availability each year makes it all the more exciting – it’s now or never until next year, and once it gets taken off the shelves late March, it’s gone.

After Shamrock Shakes disappear off the McD’s menu, life is back to normal…until the next February rolls around. All I’m saying is that I’m glad I can always count on the Shamrock Shake to bring me out of my winter gloom.

NOTE: I may or may not have abused my RA privileges in college and literally emailed the dorm a one-liner that said, “SHAMROCK SHAKES ARE BACK!” (complete with Emoji, obviously), so this is really just an extension of what I personally considered a PSA.

On Heartbreak

Thoughts

“The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday. That’s guaranteed. I can’t begin to explain that. Or the craziness inside myself and everyone else. ” -Pat Solitano (aka Bradley Cooper), Silver Linings Playbook

The Sochi 2014 Winter O’s are finally underway. I think the Olympics are beautiful: I love seeing athletes come together to march with their nations, each so proud to represent what, to him, is “home.” I also love the Olympics because of the raw emotion we get to see on these athletes’ faces; for just a moment, a fleeting moment, we are privy to someone else’s feelings (although, in this day and age, the “fleeting moment” really turns into an “never-ending meme”).

In some cases, the emotion we get to see is elation. Joy, pride, tears of excitement – we see champions, we see heroes; we see people who have worked so hard to achieve their goals during one glorious moment. But in others, we see heartbreak: years of training ending in an injury. A mistake, a fall, a slip here or there – these too are the raw emotions on display. These are the tears of disappointment, of frustration, of heartbreak.

Getting your heart broken sucks. It sucks to go through it; it sucks to fight through it; it sucks to feel that physical ache in your heart. And it’s scary how fragile the human heart really is, how the world can just get to you and break your heart “ten ways to Sunday.”

In the past few weeks, I’ve heard news of tragedy from my alma mater more times than I – or anyone, for that matter – would ever want to hear. A college sophomore’s death last week marked the second suicide at Penn in just a short three weeks, and the fourth death at the school since December. Even being a year and a half out of college hasn’t made me feel far enough removed from this: my heart broke when I learned the news. It broke for the lives that are lost; it broke for the loved ones who are left to cope, to fight through their worst nightmares. If a stranger like me can feel heartbroken about those who have perished, how infinitely much more must those family and friends ache? I remember how it felt to lose someone that I loved; I remember all too well how much it hurt and how much I cried; I remember how much my heart broke for a life lost too soon, potential “could-be’s” that became “never-would-be’s.”

But I also remember how beautiful that time was. There was beauty in the heartbreak because there was beauty in the memory, but there’s more. I truly believe that, as heartbreak brings out the worst possible feeling within yourself, it brings out the most beautiful feeling from the world around you. It brings out community, it brings out support; it brings out what we call love, and that’s the beauty in heartbreak. In my immediate grief, I probably would’ve hated anyone that tried to tell me that, but it’s true. I see how the Penn community has come together; I see the words of love, of encouragement, of support that are exchanged between complete strangers in the wake of tragedy. Heartbreak comes in all sorts forms: a broken relationship reluctantly ending; a farewell to someone you don’t know when you’ll see again; a destructive disease that seems unstoppable; the list goes on and on. But through the pain of heartbreak rises a love whose strength we may never have realized. And it’s beautiful.

——————–

The winners in the Olympics get to stand on a podium in their glory: Gold, Silver, Bronze, plus a bouquet of flowers. They stand there beaming, and the whole stadium around them cheers on. Somewhere in the crowd – or maybe the locker room, or somewhere else – there are those who didn’t make it up to the podium. But I like to imagine that in the midst of the dashed Olympic dream, in the midst of the heartbreak, there is something beautiful: a cheering community, a support system, and arms of encouraging love.

Here’s how that quote from the beginning of this blog post ends:

“But guess what? Sunday’s my favorite day again. I think of what everyone did for me, and I feel like a very lucky guy.”

On Superiority

Thoughts

I was told that writing in all lowercase makes the writing too hard to read. I don’t know how true that is, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to start using normal grammar, so I guess I’ll start writing like a real adult now.

Moving on, I’ve been dwelling a lot on something my dad said last week. I was frustrated about something and venting to my parents. As I ranted about how I would never do this, how I was better than this, my dad came on the phone and said: “Susan. The moment you start thinking that you are better than other people, everything will start becoming more difficult.”

Usually, when my dad says stuff to me, I’m like “I KNOW,” and try to get him to leave me alone ASAP. But what he said this time really struck a chord with me. Growing up, I enjoyed feeling like I excelled. I let my head balloon up in high school – I thought to myself often that I had everything I could possibly want (except the boyfriend, an ever-elusive concept, and looks, which I’ve never been totally satisfied with). College became a huge reality check as I was surrounded, everywhere I looked, by people who excelled more than me by far.

To be fair, it’s hard to define “excel” because it’s hard to define “success,” right? Everyone’s idea of success is totally different, although society sometimes insists that qualities like money, fame, or beauty are what make someone successful. But no matter how much I clung to the thought that maybe I was still special in some sort of way, I was humbled during college. Time after time, whether it was through grades, through auditions, through job applications – I was reminded that maybe I wasn’t so special after all.

It’s embarrassing to think about how self-centered I can be, but my dad’s right: the better that I think I am, the more difficult I make life for myself. The situation arises over and over again: career, friendships, events – everything around me can turn into a temptation to compare myself to others. I always say that I hate when people are arrogant and condescending, but what’s the difference between that and what goes on inside my own head?

Nothing, really.

It doesn’t matter if it’s voiced or not; it doesn’t even matter if I’m right or not – the moment that a tiny seed of superiority pops into my head, it all goes downhill. I make myself unhappy; I feel jealous, or wronged, or unsuccessful – all sorts of negative emotions, depending on the situation. The “happiness” I feel from thinking I’m superior is nothing compared to how terrible it feels when that mindset is broken, as it inevitably always will be. As they say, “Pride goeth before the fall” – and honestly, the fall sucks.

Thanks for the lesson, Dad. You still try to give me advice too much – but I’ll admit it, it’s probably worth listening to.

new year, new blog

Thoughts

happy chinese new year! i didn’t even know it was going to be the year of the horse, but i went to duane reade to shop for overpriced valentine’s day cards and saw, to my surprise, chinese new year cards with horses on them. maybe this means i’ll be lucky and/or prosperous this year. but as they say, we “make our own luck.” so here’s to working hard this year, to being dauntless and taking risks (can you tell i’ve been reading divergent?), to growing as best as i can into someone i’m proud to be.

it’s kind of weird starting a new blog, but xanga shut down a while back and forced me to move on from the blog of my pre-teen/teenage angst. that was probably good for me, because the overdramatic tendencies of my youth are pretty cringeworthy – so really, xanga did us all a favor. it feels like i’ve graduated to “grown-up” xanga by creating a wordpress blog. maybe one day i’ll start capitalizing the first letter of every word like an adult – but until then, laziness still prevails.

anyway, since this is my first blog post, i want to explain the meaning behind the title. the past year and a half in new york has been an interesting year and a half. as i explored and tried to navigate my way around a new city, i found myself getting wrapped up in life around me – the people, the job, the money, the activities – all things that are so ever-present and so in-my-face, all the time. it was quite easy to feel lost in it all, and i could feel myself going through the motions of day-to-day life, letting all the little things get to me – for better or for worse, they got to me either way. it wasn’t until i started taking the time to pause, to step away from it all, to have those two-to-three hour conversations with the best of my friends that i felt like i could truly remember what happiness meant to me. i’m ever so grateful to the best family and friends in the world for driving me to be my best, for encouraging me to pursue meaning instead of money, long-term joy instead of short-term satisfaction.

with that knowledge in mind, i’ve been on a constant quest to find out what it is that makes that makes life meaningful. so there it is: “seeking something splendid.” as soon as i knew i needed a blog title, i turned of course to my all-time favorite book, little women. i came across this little quote:

“I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle, something heroic or wonderful that won’t be forgotten after I’m dead. I don’t know what, but I’m on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all some day.” (jo continues this quote by saying she wants to write books and get rich and famous, but we’re going to ignore that part for the purposes of this blog).

like jo, i don’t know what “something splendid” is. but i want to find out, and i want to work towards it. and it should be heroic, and wonderful, and not forgotten after i’m dead – not because it has to be some crazy, large-scale, martyrdom act, but because anything i seek is, i hope, ultimately rooted in the beauty that is helping others. (i also don’t know what her castle is, but i hope mine is something like being able to eat unlimited food without becoming unhealthy and also being surrounded by rainbows and pillow pets). for a long time, i waited for success to come to me, but i’ve realized that i don’t even know what success is. for now, though, i know that to help others is heroic, and it’s wonderful, and won’t be forgotten after i’m dead (unless everyone i get to help dies before me, which would be really quite weird).

so walk with me, learn with me. encourage me please – come with me on my journey of seeking something splendid!