So it's the end of July...in a little under 6 months I'll be blowing out 31 candles...31.
They say age is just a number and I believe that, I do. I didn't freak out when 30 came and went...but now that 31 is nearing it may be time to re-think the age game. At 23 I had my quarter life crisis...23 was a rough year. Then again so was 24...and maybe even 25. Those were the years I was lost...the first few years out of college without a clearly defined career path, or life path...the years that everyone wanted to know what I was up to...what now...and I had no answer for them, or myself.
I have a career path now, and my own apartment, and boyfriend who as of three months ago now shares said apartment with me. Is it true love, the everlasting kind? Well...that's really still up in the air and at the moment I'm okay with that because as much as I'd love that Earth shattering "this is it" type of love that most my friends have seemingly found...there are more important things in this 30 year old's life. Mainly figuring out how to live the life I have, and do it with grace and joy. How to create the life I want...or one I would be satisfied with...and that, all comes from within.
I've come to the acceptance that I'm the type of person who is never truly satisfied, but that my dissatisfaction is never quite enough to motivate me to make changes that are lasting. Sounds silly I know, especially at my age but you'll see it's true just by looking back across the pages of this blog. I'm fairly positive that 90% of my previous posts have to do with some sort of dissatisfaction at where I am in my life and the steps I should or get to take to get to the place I want to be...followed by a few months of cyber silence and then another slightly different post of the same nature. Hey, at least I recognize my patterns.
Anyways, welcome to yet another post of the same sort...
So 31. That's 9 years till 40, and though a lot can happen in 9 years...we all know how quickly they can pass as well. And it's not that I'm afraid of getting older...it's that I have to think from a different standpoint, a career based point of view. I'm an Actor...or at least that's what I say I am...the path I've claimed to have chosen. As an actor, age plays a different role...literally. In my 20's I could see myself playing the college girl, maybe even the late HS teen...then as I neared 30, the "fresh out of college" type the struggling career girl...but as I get older my youthful look is changing. I no longer get 22 when someone guesses my age...it's now 25; 26. I see people I haven't seen in years and they say I look older and the truth is, I do. I look at myself in the mirror and realize I am looking closer to my age than I ever have before...and I realize that before long, I'll be playing the mom in every casting. I'll have surpassed the age of "leading lady" or "romantic lead" and though I look forward to a long fulfilling career as the TV mom (I love Connie Britton and would LOVE her career), I'm not ready to get there without a little time as the "girl trying to figure it all out". So that puts a definite time crunch on things, which honestly may be a good thing. I've never worried about the age factor before, and it's been how long since I decided to move to LA with the dream of being an Actor? 2007. I made the decision and move in 2007, that's 7 years ago and yes, I can say that for the first two years I was young and getting my grounding, and working 2-3 jobs just to pay rent, and then I joined Atwater Playhouse, and quit my day job...I moved out on my own sick and tired of paying rent for the second broke roomate in a matter of 2 years...then I quit Atwater and joined Playhouse West, and Grey's Studio, and I got my first commercial agent...then I went back to working 2 jobs but at least they were both night jobs...I did horrible student films, I tried finding myself through transformational workshops, landed my present commercial agent, got a manager who I thought was going to be great (which I get to drop by the end of the year) and my present job, left Playhouse West, took improv at UCB, and went through all the trials and tribulations of creating my relationship...to land me here.
Half way through my 30th year on earth.
One job, 4 nights a week.
Still in an apartment I love.
Live in boyfriend who is also reaching for the dream.
Half time mom to an awesome kid.
Two weeks into an amazing new weekly acting class at Stuart Rogers studio, and one week into his Audition class.
I have a savings that allows me to think about world travel on a yearly basis, and the freedom to up and go whenever I want.
Commercial agency that sends me out on a regular basis with agents that I love.
Great co-workers.
Best friends that I couldn't do it without.
Healthy and alive.
A family that support me and love me and have accepted that this is my life and what I want to do.
I have a good life, there's no doubting that. Even the unsatisfied me has to admit that. But I want a GREAT life...and that is something that I get to work for...and not become lethargic about. It's easier to be comfortable and live the good life than it is to strive for the GREAT life...and I don't want another 7...or 9 years to go by and to look back on all that wasted potential. So where do I go from here?
Well happiness starts from within right? So that a start. Health...eating right, regular exercise, meditation, yoga, exploring the outdoors, regular sleeping patterns, they all would help me wake up more invigorated ready to take on the world. Auditioning for small projects, writing my own scripts, keeping up this blog, reading plays, working hard in classes, finding theatrical representation, workshops, working on dialects, getting a good manager, visiting my commercial agents would keep my pushing forward in my career. Traveling, shopping, dabbling in photography, getting back into modeling, starting craft projects, reading books, watching Indy movies, learning a new language, brushing up on Spanish, picking up a paintbrush would help get those creative juices flowing again. Taking dance classes, working on puzzles, camping, hiking, finding new hobbies and passions would help inspire me. All things that I know I "should do" and tell myself with my best transformational lingo I "get to do." So then wth...why don't you just DO IT already, right? Seriously.
I read so many articles about how to be happy, to live happy, to be successful...there are lists and lists and lists of things you should give up...or start doing. They all motivate for a moment or two and then are lost again as our attention shifts, let's make this the one time it doesn't. Let's make 31 the best year yet...and I've got 5 months to lay the foundation.
No more tomorrows, no more next weeks...because life happens
now.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Friday, July 4, 2014
The day I realized the greatness of my hometown was a disallusion
I can't quite capture the horrible sadness and feeling of loss that happens the moment you realize the place you grew up is not the amazing paradise you always believed. I don't know if many people can relate to this at all...because I think I might have been one of the only people left in the world to have an idealized idea of where they came from, or at least one of the only ones to get that idea challenged and steamrolled at 30. Most people experience this type of let down earlier on in life...or maybe they never do at all, but tonight was my night. My night where I realized for the first time that I'm not proud of where I came from. Where being a minority...even if I didn't see myself as one here...in Marin County makes me "different."
Maybe I should explain. I am 4th generation Asian American on one side...my great grandmother was born in California in 1901, I'm more "American" than a whole heck of a lot of my "white" friends. I was born and raised in Marin County CA, the northern...predominantly white...upper middle class suburb of San Francisco where I grew up ignoring the fact I was different and fiercely fighting to not see or let others see I was anything other than just another Marin Co. kid. And it worked...or so I thought...for a long time. By the time I got to college I really didn't feel or act any different than any of my peers...and why should I? To say we were all colorblind is not as accurate as to say we chose to see every color as the same...white. It didn't matter what color your skin was...if you had grown up in Marin at the time I did you were white...unless you clearly identified as a minority and acted as such.
Then college hit. I went to UCI. Yes, I know all the jokes...University of Chinese Immigrants and any other acronym you can think of involving UCI and being Asian. It was a culture shock, to say the least, to be surrounded by so many people so proud of their different heritage, and in turn, so many that wanted me to identify with their so called "struggles" which, to say the least, I had no clue about...or at least believed I didn't. It took me 3 years for my friendship circle to slowly turn from caucasian to Asian and for me to truly embrace what makes me special...that I'm of mixed race.
Fast forward to now. I'm 30 years old, I have a live in boyfriend who is Korean by origin and I still absolutely love where I grew up. He's from LA where we live now, where I've lived for the last 6 years the entire time (plus the 7 years in OC before that) wishing I could someday return here...to the lovely bubble I came from, the idealized world I lived in. So it's his first time seeing my hometown...and of course, I desperately want him to love it as much as I do, to understand why I am the way I am, and why I love it so much. It's our first night...and I decide to go down to the only bar in town...the 2am club and meet up with a childhood friend and her new boo for some drinks and a chill night at the dive where we grew up.
Everything is fine...great even...until the lights go up. Then I go to close out. It starts bad...I say "oh don't close me out!" and the bartender retorts with "no, you HAVE to close out" to which I respond "yes...I know...I meant on the card. I want to pay cash," being in the service industry I like to pay everything with cash, b/c going to the bank isn't my strong suite. Anyways, there is a guy at the bar. And I hate to say it but I have to for this story to make the most sense in the most ridiculous way...but the ONLY black guy at the bar (and if you've ever come to Marin Co. you know the relevance of this) and he looks at me and says "oh how Chinese of you" and I just give him this unbelievable shocked death stare. Like did that REALLY come out of your mouth right now...REALLY you're going to say that to the ONLY SEMI ASIAN girl here just because I told her I'd rather pay CASH?? Like WTF?? Anyways I definitely don't let it slide, and call him out on his shit...while he tries to play it off as if it's not a race thing. And this is the first time I've ever really felt defensive about the race card...but COME ON. Then I go to pay my bill which I realize seems a little high for the two beers (at $5.50 and $5 each) and one Jameson neat (at $6.50) that we had, which to me even with tax does not equal out to $22. So I pay then I ask nicely and curiously what we had on our tab. The bartender goes to look and tells me we had 2 Racer 5's (which I clearly know we had 1) and the other two drinks I knew we got. So I proceed to tell her we did not get 2 of the Racer 5's at which point she gets angry and acts as if I'm trying to stiff her (btw at this point I had already dropped a $5 tip on the bar for our supposed $22 in cocktails BEFORE I asked her about the bill at all) and says "YOU DID GET TWO, OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE FIGHTING ME ON $5" and now I'm pissed off because if you know me it's not the $$ as much the principle (which I tell her flat out) and she CONTINUES to argue with me. I'm appalled, especially seeing as I bet I'm the best tipper in the house for the night as well as being in the service industry myself and having enough class to never EVER fight a tab just trying to get free shit. By now she's already thrown the disputed $5 on the bar as if to say "fine here's your $ you're trying to stiff me" and I am so pissed I stalk off telling her again it's not the money but the principle leaving both $5 bills on the bar. In retrospect I should have just said fuck you you cunt and taken both but I'm not like that. And if that's not enough as I'm walking off that same black dude (who may I add had a British accent and was not tough at all) scoffs and says "WOW" quite loudly and obviously trying to start shit...again. At this point I'm so pissed off and frankly disappointed in my fellow man...and just tying to cope with the realization that my love for this town might be a horrible mistake and disillusion after all, and the fact that I've never been so disrespected for no apparent reason other than the one thing that I worked my ass off growing up in this same town to not notice or feel; that I was different. That I was not WHITE.
Later after my boyfriend heard what the guy had said to me about wanting to pay in cash post exiting the bar after the bartender insisted (even after we both tried to tell her he did not order a second beer on my tab) that we were trying to get free drinks, he went back in to have words with this racist man only to have the guy try to step up to him and that same cunt of a bartender try to ease his anger by saying "relax he's just a really drunk gay guy" as if making him a second minority makes his racism or her bitchiness any better.
People may scoff, or react negatively to this entry. Perhaps they'll think I'm making a big thing about nothing...that it had nothing to do with race and I'm being extra sensitive, or that maybe I'm being stuck up thinking that I was probably one of the best most cultured and polite patron's in that bar (and yes, I'm super pissed off). Maybe they'll say I've been naive, or that I have no right to be so upset and pissed off at something that's taking me 30 years to see or experience, that I'm dumb and privileged, or that they've dealt with this their entire lives...and to that I say I'm sorry. All I can talk about is my experience and I don't ever mean to discredit someone else's or say mine is worse by any means...but it doesn't mean it crushes me any less. Doesn't' mean I'm any less hurt or at a loss...if anything my perfect perception of my hometown and the "wonderful" people in it makes this all more painful of a realization...
Mill Valley, you are full of ignorant racist people who treat others as if they are sub par for no logical reason other than the fact you believe you are better than them simply because you are narrow minded. My world is crushed, and I truly hate you 2am club. This is the first and last time I'll ever happily walk through your doors, you harbor nothing but the worst people who don't deserve my consideration.
Seriously, I'm at a loss. I'm disappointed beyond words in the quality of people they were and my hometown...and in the fact that not only do I have to come to terms with the loss of my ideal city...and the fact that my boyfriend's first experience with the place I have talked so highly of is of such ignorance and disdain.
I never thought I'd say it...but I can't wait to leave this place and go back to LA.
Maybe I should explain. I am 4th generation Asian American on one side...my great grandmother was born in California in 1901, I'm more "American" than a whole heck of a lot of my "white" friends. I was born and raised in Marin County CA, the northern...predominantly white...upper middle class suburb of San Francisco where I grew up ignoring the fact I was different and fiercely fighting to not see or let others see I was anything other than just another Marin Co. kid. And it worked...or so I thought...for a long time. By the time I got to college I really didn't feel or act any different than any of my peers...and why should I? To say we were all colorblind is not as accurate as to say we chose to see every color as the same...white. It didn't matter what color your skin was...if you had grown up in Marin at the time I did you were white...unless you clearly identified as a minority and acted as such.
Then college hit. I went to UCI. Yes, I know all the jokes...University of Chinese Immigrants and any other acronym you can think of involving UCI and being Asian. It was a culture shock, to say the least, to be surrounded by so many people so proud of their different heritage, and in turn, so many that wanted me to identify with their so called "struggles" which, to say the least, I had no clue about...or at least believed I didn't. It took me 3 years for my friendship circle to slowly turn from caucasian to Asian and for me to truly embrace what makes me special...that I'm of mixed race.
Fast forward to now. I'm 30 years old, I have a live in boyfriend who is Korean by origin and I still absolutely love where I grew up. He's from LA where we live now, where I've lived for the last 6 years the entire time (plus the 7 years in OC before that) wishing I could someday return here...to the lovely bubble I came from, the idealized world I lived in. So it's his first time seeing my hometown...and of course, I desperately want him to love it as much as I do, to understand why I am the way I am, and why I love it so much. It's our first night...and I decide to go down to the only bar in town...the 2am club and meet up with a childhood friend and her new boo for some drinks and a chill night at the dive where we grew up.
Everything is fine...great even...until the lights go up. Then I go to close out. It starts bad...I say "oh don't close me out!" and the bartender retorts with "no, you HAVE to close out" to which I respond "yes...I know...I meant on the card. I want to pay cash," being in the service industry I like to pay everything with cash, b/c going to the bank isn't my strong suite. Anyways, there is a guy at the bar. And I hate to say it but I have to for this story to make the most sense in the most ridiculous way...but the ONLY black guy at the bar (and if you've ever come to Marin Co. you know the relevance of this) and he looks at me and says "oh how Chinese of you" and I just give him this unbelievable shocked death stare. Like did that REALLY come out of your mouth right now...REALLY you're going to say that to the ONLY SEMI ASIAN girl here just because I told her I'd rather pay CASH?? Like WTF?? Anyways I definitely don't let it slide, and call him out on his shit...while he tries to play it off as if it's not a race thing. And this is the first time I've ever really felt defensive about the race card...but COME ON. Then I go to pay my bill which I realize seems a little high for the two beers (at $5.50 and $5 each) and one Jameson neat (at $6.50) that we had, which to me even with tax does not equal out to $22. So I pay then I ask nicely and curiously what we had on our tab. The bartender goes to look and tells me we had 2 Racer 5's (which I clearly know we had 1) and the other two drinks I knew we got. So I proceed to tell her we did not get 2 of the Racer 5's at which point she gets angry and acts as if I'm trying to stiff her (btw at this point I had already dropped a $5 tip on the bar for our supposed $22 in cocktails BEFORE I asked her about the bill at all) and says "YOU DID GET TWO, OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE FIGHTING ME ON $5" and now I'm pissed off because if you know me it's not the $$ as much the principle (which I tell her flat out) and she CONTINUES to argue with me. I'm appalled, especially seeing as I bet I'm the best tipper in the house for the night as well as being in the service industry myself and having enough class to never EVER fight a tab just trying to get free shit. By now she's already thrown the disputed $5 on the bar as if to say "fine here's your $ you're trying to stiff me" and I am so pissed I stalk off telling her again it's not the money but the principle leaving both $5 bills on the bar. In retrospect I should have just said fuck you you cunt and taken both but I'm not like that. And if that's not enough as I'm walking off that same black dude (who may I add had a British accent and was not tough at all) scoffs and says "WOW" quite loudly and obviously trying to start shit...again. At this point I'm so pissed off and frankly disappointed in my fellow man...and just tying to cope with the realization that my love for this town might be a horrible mistake and disillusion after all, and the fact that I've never been so disrespected for no apparent reason other than the one thing that I worked my ass off growing up in this same town to not notice or feel; that I was different. That I was not WHITE.
Later after my boyfriend heard what the guy had said to me about wanting to pay in cash post exiting the bar after the bartender insisted (even after we both tried to tell her he did not order a second beer on my tab) that we were trying to get free drinks, he went back in to have words with this racist man only to have the guy try to step up to him and that same cunt of a bartender try to ease his anger by saying "relax he's just a really drunk gay guy" as if making him a second minority makes his racism or her bitchiness any better.
People may scoff, or react negatively to this entry. Perhaps they'll think I'm making a big thing about nothing...that it had nothing to do with race and I'm being extra sensitive, or that maybe I'm being stuck up thinking that I was probably one of the best most cultured and polite patron's in that bar (and yes, I'm super pissed off). Maybe they'll say I've been naive, or that I have no right to be so upset and pissed off at something that's taking me 30 years to see or experience, that I'm dumb and privileged, or that they've dealt with this their entire lives...and to that I say I'm sorry. All I can talk about is my experience and I don't ever mean to discredit someone else's or say mine is worse by any means...but it doesn't mean it crushes me any less. Doesn't' mean I'm any less hurt or at a loss...if anything my perfect perception of my hometown and the "wonderful" people in it makes this all more painful of a realization...
Mill Valley, you are full of ignorant racist people who treat others as if they are sub par for no logical reason other than the fact you believe you are better than them simply because you are narrow minded. My world is crushed, and I truly hate you 2am club. This is the first and last time I'll ever happily walk through your doors, you harbor nothing but the worst people who don't deserve my consideration.
Seriously, I'm at a loss. I'm disappointed beyond words in the quality of people they were and my hometown...and in the fact that not only do I have to come to terms with the loss of my ideal city...and the fact that my boyfriend's first experience with the place I have talked so highly of is of such ignorance and disdain.
I never thought I'd say it...but I can't wait to leave this place and go back to LA.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Reflections in the water
I imagine my life to be a journey, a path, with many twists turns and crossings which have all lead me to the here and now with the future trail yet to be blazed in front of me. It's an exciting journey full of laughter, love, and pain, and today I'm feeling a little bit nostalgic and thankful, and hopeful, and full of awe...so what better time to sit down in front of the keyboard which I often now neglect and see if I haven't lost my knack at capturing the moments to which a single specific emotion cannot be pinned due to the wondrous jumble of things flying around in my heart and mind. If I loose you in my ramblings...I apologize ahead of time, it's not my intent to do so but here it goes...
If this moment --this week -- was a point on my metaphorical path of life I'd be standing on a bridge that spans two banks. I'd imagine it's a walking bridge since my path is not meant for cars and trucks...an arched bridge like the ones in impressionist paintings. Wooden, sturdy and beautiful in it's simplicity. The water rushing fast below over rocks and swirling in small whirlpools, and here I stand, at the highest point in the arch, the exact middle of the span looking down leaning on the railing at the beauty of the tumultuous waters below. From this point I have a great view of the sun setting behind me, spraying her evening rays across the lands traveled...I can see my path at the horizon, see the ghosts of my childhood running along in the setting rays, the twists, and turns my trail takes away from the fading memories of my mom with the late 80's perm, my baby brother dressing up in drag to play "Jenny" with the 8 year old me, I see the hills which seemed like mountains...ridding my bike to school with that clarinet strapped to the back, passing notes in social studies, middle school dances and my first crushes. I see the high school version of me...quiet and insecure, acting like she had it all figured out...my first boyfriend and his crooked smile. I see the college me, the parties, the long days on campus, the sisters, the summers, the sorority house, Phil, Eric, the fraternity formals, the trips, Monday meetings, IFC sports. I see the people who meant so much to me, the ones who I couldn't imagine my life without, the years and the changing faces like a flip-book. I see the landscape of my friendships change, I see myself change. I see turmoil and pain, moments when I thought I couldn't hurt any more, when I couldn't cry any more, when I couldn't love any more but was too afraid to admit it out loud. I see college end, I see myself getting on the plane to Spain, I see hot long nights followed by hot long days, adventure, discovery, fear. I see distractions, I see Martin and Osa those wooden doors with the blue stripe and my first real job, I see Kiramas and dancing all night having the time of my life, I see South Coast Plaza, Taco Tuedays at the Cave, I see confusion, I see me loosing myself not wanting to loose him and realizing I lost both, I see Virginia, I see DC, Arlington, I see a new path in my mind...a new direction. I see it all in the warm orange glow of the setting sun. I see that path fade, the true path take a sharp turn, I see long hours and late nights out, I see independence, see me finding myself again, loving myself again. I can't help but smile at that long road that stretches behind me...letting the nostalgia wash over me and warm my face and soul like the summer sun. I look down...closer to the the edge of the bank from which I have just come...I see the immediate past more clearly and with less haze, almost as if the evening has fallen yet it is not dark. I see myself clearer, and those who share my road hold less weight. I'm in focus now, I guess that's how we look back on things, the more time and space between what it is we are remembering the more removed we are from it and the more we remember the others who took part. I clearly remember those last few steps up to this bridge, this moment. The fear, the hesitation, the contemplation...the bridge had been clearly in view for some time, but now that I was almost there...did I really want to cross the river? Was I ready to leave this bank behind and with it all the possibilities? Was I ready to face the shadows that in my mind lurked on the other side? Did I want to jump off this path, off this bank, and let the rushing waters sweep me down the river to a new path? If I crossed would I regret it and not be able to come back? Was I supposed to cross?
I remember thinking this bridge didn't look right, it wasn't the bridge I had in mind, wasn't picturesque, wasn't perfect. I grew up imagining that my future would be full of bridges covered in blooming vines bridges that you'd run towards filled with awe from their beauty and perfection, a bridge that you'd not think twice about sprinting across with a giant smile because what must lie on the other side had to be even more spectacular to merit such a gorgeous entrance. Of course, through the twists, turns, potholes, and boulders strewn across my dusty and rough trail called life I realized that nothing is the way you imagined it would be, but old habits die hard, and this bridge was not my fantasy bridge. In fact it's a little rough looking, unpolished, unfinished, plain. Thrown up for functionality more than beauty, and it's mine. It's exactly as it's supposed to be, and it's perfect in its imperfection. Some people are not supposed to have rose covered bridges, and I am one of those...for all the paths that included them I have successfully avoided to choose this one. And once I let go of my fear and took that first step off solid ground and onto the bridge all those doubts melted off.
And here I am...half way across the bridge and the sun is rising in front of me, spraying it's golden rays of possibility to the path ahead, filling me full of hope and excitement for the future. Who knows where my path my lead, but there's one thing I know for sure, whatever twists and turns and other rivers it crosses there's no going backwards. Just forwards. And these moments spent upon this wooden bridge...they are moments when the past and the future collide. When I get to look back and smile, remembering all the people and experiences that have led me here, and to be thankful for every single one of them.
Life is full of little blessings. Next week I'll be stepping off this bridge into new uncharted lands, but I'll still be me, and my path will still wind on and forward as it always has. And I'm a little afraid and excited as I watch the man I share my "now" with arranging his clothes in my newly cleared out closet surrounded by the years of memories wising up into the air from the objects they're attached to now scattered across the living room floor waiting for their new homes in storage or the donation bin or to be tucked away into another corner of ...my...our place.
If this moment --this week -- was a point on my metaphorical path of life I'd be standing on a bridge that spans two banks. I'd imagine it's a walking bridge since my path is not meant for cars and trucks...an arched bridge like the ones in impressionist paintings. Wooden, sturdy and beautiful in it's simplicity. The water rushing fast below over rocks and swirling in small whirlpools, and here I stand, at the highest point in the arch, the exact middle of the span looking down leaning on the railing at the beauty of the tumultuous waters below. From this point I have a great view of the sun setting behind me, spraying her evening rays across the lands traveled...I can see my path at the horizon, see the ghosts of my childhood running along in the setting rays, the twists, and turns my trail takes away from the fading memories of my mom with the late 80's perm, my baby brother dressing up in drag to play "Jenny" with the 8 year old me, I see the hills which seemed like mountains...ridding my bike to school with that clarinet strapped to the back, passing notes in social studies, middle school dances and my first crushes. I see the high school version of me...quiet and insecure, acting like she had it all figured out...my first boyfriend and his crooked smile. I see the college me, the parties, the long days on campus, the sisters, the summers, the sorority house, Phil, Eric, the fraternity formals, the trips, Monday meetings, IFC sports. I see the people who meant so much to me, the ones who I couldn't imagine my life without, the years and the changing faces like a flip-book. I see the landscape of my friendships change, I see myself change. I see turmoil and pain, moments when I thought I couldn't hurt any more, when I couldn't cry any more, when I couldn't love any more but was too afraid to admit it out loud. I see college end, I see myself getting on the plane to Spain, I see hot long nights followed by hot long days, adventure, discovery, fear. I see distractions, I see Martin and Osa those wooden doors with the blue stripe and my first real job, I see Kiramas and dancing all night having the time of my life, I see South Coast Plaza, Taco Tuedays at the Cave, I see confusion, I see me loosing myself not wanting to loose him and realizing I lost both, I see Virginia, I see DC, Arlington, I see a new path in my mind...a new direction. I see it all in the warm orange glow of the setting sun. I see that path fade, the true path take a sharp turn, I see long hours and late nights out, I see independence, see me finding myself again, loving myself again. I can't help but smile at that long road that stretches behind me...letting the nostalgia wash over me and warm my face and soul like the summer sun. I look down...closer to the the edge of the bank from which I have just come...I see the immediate past more clearly and with less haze, almost as if the evening has fallen yet it is not dark. I see myself clearer, and those who share my road hold less weight. I'm in focus now, I guess that's how we look back on things, the more time and space between what it is we are remembering the more removed we are from it and the more we remember the others who took part. I clearly remember those last few steps up to this bridge, this moment. The fear, the hesitation, the contemplation...the bridge had been clearly in view for some time, but now that I was almost there...did I really want to cross the river? Was I ready to leave this bank behind and with it all the possibilities? Was I ready to face the shadows that in my mind lurked on the other side? Did I want to jump off this path, off this bank, and let the rushing waters sweep me down the river to a new path? If I crossed would I regret it and not be able to come back? Was I supposed to cross?
I remember thinking this bridge didn't look right, it wasn't the bridge I had in mind, wasn't picturesque, wasn't perfect. I grew up imagining that my future would be full of bridges covered in blooming vines bridges that you'd run towards filled with awe from their beauty and perfection, a bridge that you'd not think twice about sprinting across with a giant smile because what must lie on the other side had to be even more spectacular to merit such a gorgeous entrance. Of course, through the twists, turns, potholes, and boulders strewn across my dusty and rough trail called life I realized that nothing is the way you imagined it would be, but old habits die hard, and this bridge was not my fantasy bridge. In fact it's a little rough looking, unpolished, unfinished, plain. Thrown up for functionality more than beauty, and it's mine. It's exactly as it's supposed to be, and it's perfect in its imperfection. Some people are not supposed to have rose covered bridges, and I am one of those...for all the paths that included them I have successfully avoided to choose this one. And once I let go of my fear and took that first step off solid ground and onto the bridge all those doubts melted off.
And here I am...half way across the bridge and the sun is rising in front of me, spraying it's golden rays of possibility to the path ahead, filling me full of hope and excitement for the future. Who knows where my path my lead, but there's one thing I know for sure, whatever twists and turns and other rivers it crosses there's no going backwards. Just forwards. And these moments spent upon this wooden bridge...they are moments when the past and the future collide. When I get to look back and smile, remembering all the people and experiences that have led me here, and to be thankful for every single one of them.
Life is full of little blessings. Next week I'll be stepping off this bridge into new uncharted lands, but I'll still be me, and my path will still wind on and forward as it always has. And I'm a little afraid and excited as I watch the man I share my "now" with arranging his clothes in my newly cleared out closet surrounded by the years of memories wising up into the air from the objects they're attached to now scattered across the living room floor waiting for their new homes in storage or the donation bin or to be tucked away into another corner of ...
Monday, January 6, 2014
Repetition
We are creatures of habit. This is a well known fact. We are also completely obsessed with "different," which is quite a contradiction if you really think about it. Seriously, think about it. We want to look different, to act different, to be different, to have a different lifestyle, to have a different level of income, a different job, a different family, a different life...you disagree? Well what if for a moment we replace "different" with "better," agree with me yet?
I've often thought about (and I'm pretty sure I've written about) the overall culture of dissatisfaction I feel we live in, where we are trapped in this never ending cycle to discredit all that is good in our lives by focusing on the "bad" or the things we wish were... "different." The endless quest to "start over" and "wipe the slate clean" to self improve and obsess over the things in our lives that we feel dissatisfied about, often forgetting all that we do have to be thankful for. This culture which I am completely and irretrievably guilty of constantly buying into or being sucked back into as I believe many of my fellow peers are. Which brings me to my next point...as much as we crave change...we are also slaves to our patterns. So instead of buck this system which will always find a way to prevail...and instead of saying "I refuse to put down or make resolutions this new year because I never follow through" I will unarguably concede to the pattern at hand and dedicate yet another entry in this poorly kept blog to nothing other than my favorite subject.
THINGS I WISH TO IMPROVE ON THIS YEAR ..aka my 2014 new years resolutions.
1. Have an unexpected adventure at least once a week.
- Do something different, out of routine, something fun. Spontaneity is--after all--the spice of life.
2. See a friend I haven't seen in ages at least once a month.
- Reconnect with people who life just wouldn't have been the same without back in the day...because why should life be lived without them now?
3. Work less, live more.
- A job is a means to an end, it pays the bills but it does not nourish the soul. Our time is limited, and worth more than $$. No working 7 days a week allowed this year. No more excuses, no more "...well...once I finish this week." (Even though I said that last week...lol)
4. Get those creative juices flowing.
- I call myself an artist...yet I do no art. Dance, write, act, get lost in the craft store. Take classes and get books, create something beautiful. Re-awaken that passion, get excited again!
5. Go outside EVERY day.
- Sounds simple right? Time to take more hikes, go camping, buy a bike...or simply take a stroll down the street. Anything to get out of the apt (and the drive too and from work does not count).
6. Be vain.
- Take a little extra time in the morning, put together an outfit, fix your hair, use those accessories because god knows I've got a ton of them. Youth is fleeting and before long it'll be gone. As it is I'm living on borrowed time.
7. Spread love.
- Don't let this city get to you. Wipe that jadedness from your shoulders and polish that smile. Say hello to people, let your energy find theirs and brighten everyone's day. Joy is created and sharing it just helps it to grow within yourself and the world around you.
8. Read more.
- Books...remember them? You used to loooove them. So what happened?
9. Hording Prevention Plan or HPP
- Yes, we all can guess what this one's about. It's time to seriously let go of some things in my apartment that I've had for far too long. Less clutter = freed up life (or at least that's what I keep telling myself)
10. GET STARTED!
- Procrastination and laziness are my biggest enemies...and I always let them win. Why? Get up and do something! You're happier when you are productive yet you let yourself lay around and do nothing all too often. There's nothing wrong with a day of rest...but not when it turns into a vicious cycle of a day...a week...a month....a year...a lifetime??
So there you have it. My "goals" for this year. The things I GET to do, and hell...I don't know about you but most those things sound pretty awesome to me, who wouldn't want to have resolutions like this?