We're Strangers Once More

I was sitting in a Starbucks in the hazy middle of daybreak. It's barely light out, despite the clock hitting 10 am. The rain's dripping, falling slowly and softly on the windows flushed green from the gray sky. Outside, trees were blowing. In just seconds, it went from a pale gray to charcoal horizons. It's dark indoors, the outside spreading a smudginess into the flickering light of Starbucks. Cars zipped by quickly, skipping the drive through, skipping the place, and slip through the rain.

People come in, wet and tousled from the deluge, laugh, say they're escaping from the storm. Instantly, strangers become friends for minutes, united over terrible weather, worried about the storm that's passing, gathering around each others phones to glance at radars, bemoan over the clouds of blackness coming in. I've got a caramel Macchiato, and then they're gone. The tables outside echo with the slap, every second more droplets tap out their pattern, the sound dulled by heavy glass windows and the faint hum of electricity. The water outside is soupy, splashing in puddles up to the middle of car tires as they rush through. It's so deep outside that waves are made and they crash on the cement. It's strange, unsettling, to see cars that size swallowed up in water that was just minutes ago suspended in air. Every so often, lightning opens up the dimness of the sky and reminds us that the power could disappear in an instant.

People come and go, regulars filter through those looking for a decent cup of coffee, and people see each other for the 1st time. These bonds created over a strangers phone, from people trapped inside because of the weather, who only know each other based on their daily cup of coffee, surface. A group of people, finding solace together. It's a rainstorm that brings us together, and yet, the sun persists in coming forward, pulling apart what's being built. And so we go about our days, waiting for these collective glimpses of humanity, reading between the lines and usual orders to see something a bit more, a yearning for relationships above else.

The rain pounds but the sky clears. A bird flies across the murky clouds, an ink stain in the weather, and the cars roll by unknowingly on the freeway, forever apart, forever mysteries. Thunder rumbles, the rain abates, hardens, rolls on surfaces and fills the pooling tables and streets, and yet, we're strangers once more.

Blog Manifesto

I'm learning every day to allow the space between where I am and where I want to be to inspire me and not terrify me. - Tracee Ellis Ross

I was 17 when I started blogging, nearly 18. I was fresh out of school and unclear on how-to-live-my-life-and-live-it-well.

There's something really joyous about blogging then (oh do I sound old?). Blogs were sort of deliciously imperfect. And I needed that in my life. That joy, that delicious imperfection. Very quickly, blogging became a lens through which I could see the world: the details, the absurdity, both the loneliness and loveliness of everyday life. And it became a way to reach in the direction of the future at a time when my personal future felt very tenuous. I couldn't imagine life beyond 20, couldn't imagine getting better, or growing up, or anything after.

There's an Elizabeth Gilbert's quote I think of often:

Someday you're gonna look back on this moment of your life as such a sweet time of grieving. You'll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing.

Some part of me knew that at 20, ill as I was, my life's changing. And If could recognize it as it's happening, bear witness to it, then I could transform the most heartbreaking moments of my life into the most meaningful. So the purpose of blogging, for me, was to document the in-between-ness of my life. To document this difficult, but important, events.

For the record, I realize I'm still in the in-between. But I feel a hell of a lot closer to one end than the other. I didn't know that I'd like writing so much, find so much meaning in it. Didn't know I'd fall so hard for words and their endless variations. I like blogging. But I don't know if I like what has become of it. Can I say that? I'm gonna say that. Let me explain. It seems to me that as blogging has evolved it's become far more commercial, but what this means is that more and more blogs look the same, feel the same; similar content, similar interface, and a sort of homogeneous cultural refrain: happiness as the ultimate end.

We're bombarded with images all day, every day, on television, the internet, in magazines, that make the desirable life seem just beyond reach. Images that make us want things we have no use for. It's a pretty simple formula actually: put something that has no immediate value to the consumer, next to something beautiful (the aesthetics of beauty having a higher value than almost anything else) and suddenly it becomes important, desirable.

The thing about blogs now is that they seem to be selling a way of life, one in which nothing bad happens. In which everyone's always cheery and smiling and dressed in impeccable and expensive clothes. This is nothing new of course, we as a culture and country seem to have cornered the market on happily-ever-after. But the thing about blogs is we think of them as non-fiction. And that's where it gets tricky. We mistake a very small, very edited slice of life as the whole of the thing. And few things are as they seem. Images flatten, words distort, and photo filters enhance.

I like fashion blog as much as the next person, I really do. The pictures are like candy, immediately satisfying. But here's what I wanna know: who can really afford to wear Jovian dress, carry a Chanel bag, and dress their arms in Tiffany & Co jewelry day after day? Certainly, I can't. And do I need to feel bad that I can't? It's that second question I worry about, because that's the question that sticks around longer than the immediate hit of pleasure. And that's the question that, if I'm not paying attention, sort of chips away at my self-worth.

Perhaps other people don't have the same experience. But what if they do?

I understand that depicting total realism is impossible and not the point of blogging. I've heard time and time again bloggers explain that their corner of the internet is their space and therefore they have the right to choose what they share. But we don't live in a vacuum. And shared content goes into the world and has an effect. Free speech is sort of a misnomer, isn't it? Because it's free to a point. There's always a cost..we just don't always know what that cost is.

Of course I believe in personal responsibility and accountability, that we can't entirely control how what we say is received. "Perception is reality" is one of those principles that drives me nuts because it's such a lazy way of thinking..so unimaginative. And let's be honest, you can't reason with crazy. And if a crazy person perceives you as crazy, does that make you crazy? But the thing is, much evidence exists to prove that the onslaught of doctored images in favor of "flawless" bodies is extremely damaging. So what about "flawless" lives?

I took this blogging break to work on other things, but also to give myself some time to figure out if I wanted to continue. And the thing is, I do. Because I actually quite love it. But for the last few years I've attempted to reconcile what I love about blogging with what has come to be expected from the medium. And I'm not sure I can. Or that I need to. But what I did feel like I needed to do was create a governing set of principles to remind me of what I'm doing and why I'm doing it.

 A Blog Manifesto

1. This is a writing blog. Not a lifestyle blog.

2. I do this because I love it and it has meaning for me but if I stop loving it, I will stop doing it.

3. I'll occasionally be abstract and private, but I'll do my very best to never paint my life as something it's not.

4. This space is a part of my life, but only a part. If it ever gets in the way of living, then enough.

5. My purpose here is to document what has happened (and occasionally dream of what might be). I believe the moment I do something specifically for the purpose of blogging about it, it cheapens the experience and undermines the content.

6. I have no interest in distilling my life into a three-sentence-bio.

 7. I believe in women. I believe in women who speak up for themselves and ask for what they want and demand more out of life. I believe in a woman's brand of intelligence and wit and grace. I think we need more of it in the world. I want to see more women in leadership positions, more women who aren't afraid to ruffle a few feathers. And I believe because we live in a world that is tremendously connected, the bonus is on each and every one of us to encourage the full realm of a woman's potential.

8. I'd love to say that I'll blog every day. But it's just not possible. There's only one of me and I can't generate that much worthy content. So I'll blog when I can.

9. I'm not interested in more content for the sake of more content (or more clicks).

10. If you're uninterested, move on, I'm not counting numbers.

11. And if you come here and then head elsewhere with the sole intent of gossiping amongst internet strangers...well, I just don't get that. And for the people who run and moderate those blogs, I'd like to ask what value you think you're adding to the larger world?

12. Maybe that's the question I want everyone to ask: what value are we adding?

13. I've met more than a few internet mavens whose lives seem far cooler and more vibrant online than they do in person. They have secured a niche and figured out what works for them and that's great. But my goal is, and will always be, that if someone were to meet me offline they'd think me just as they imagined. I'll very often fail at this, but it's nonetheless my intent.

14. I write the best version of myself, always. But I do believe that's a very different thing than writing a different and better version of myself.

That's what I got. And hopefully it's still a little deliciously imperfect.

Too long? Sorry.

Of Becoming an Adult

Do you still remember those times when you're becoming an adult? Did you experience this? :

There was a time I spontaneously decided that I was ready to be a real adult. I don't know why I decided this; it always ended terribly for me. But I did it anyway. I sat myself down and told myself how I was going to start cleaning the house every day and paying bills on time and replying to emails before my inbox overloaded. Schedules were drafted. Day-planners were purchased. I stocked up on fancy food because I was also planning on morphing into a master chef and actually cooking instead of making instant noodles. I prepared for my new life as an adult like some people prepare for the apocalypse.

The first day or two of my plans went okay. 

For a little while, I actually felt grown-up and responsible. I strutted around with my head held high, looking the other responsible people in the eye with that knowing glance that said "I understand. I'm responsible now too. Just look at my groceries." At some point, I started feeling self-congratulatory.

This was a mistake. I began to feel like I've accomplished my goals.  It's like I think that adulthood's something that can be earned like a trophy in one monumental burst of effort and then admired and coveted for the rest of one's life. 

What usually ended up happening is that I completely wore myself out. Thinking that I've earned it, I gave myself permission to slack off for a while and recover. Since I exceeded my capacity for responsibility in such a dramatic fashion, I ended up needing to take more recovery time than usual. This was when the guilt-spiral starts.  

The longer I procrastinated on returning phone calls and emails, the more guilty I felt about it. The guilt I felt causes me to avoid the issue further, which only led to more guilt and more procrastination. It got to the point where I didn't email someone for fear of reminding them that they emailed me and thus giving them a reason to be disappointed in me.  

Then the guilt from my ignored responsibilities grew so large that merely carrying it around with me felt like a huge responsibility. It took up a sizable portion of my capacity, leaving me almost completely useless for anything other than consuming instant noodles and surfing the internet. At some point in this endlessly spiraling disaster, I was forced to throw all of my energy into trying to be an adult again, just to dig myself out of the pit I'd fallen into. The problem was that I entered this round of attempted adulthood already burnt out from the last round. I can't not fail. 

It always ends the same way. Slumped and haggard, I contemplated the seemingly endless tasks ahead of me. And then I rebelled. Internet forever! LOL.

You Listen and Let Go

Sometimes you know and bury that knowing underneath petitions like, I should do this, or this is expected of me, or people will be disappointed...and that process is called forgetting. Trying on faces and wanting them to fit..but they don't and this is called confusion. 

By this time, you've forgotten what it is and wonder what's going on and why's this not what you thought. Small things trigger small thoughts that remind you of that thing, the knowing. Seeing an image in a perfect swell of music. The stars. Driving past yellow lights in the black of night. A moment that triggers a dream you had, but before you can stuff it away, you grab the ends of it by the hands and say, wait. And, what's that?

This part of yours that knows is like an old friend that you lost touch with. Only now, you're remembering how things used to be and how you wanted them to be and how they aren't that way now, so you suck it up. You call her up. You apologize. You say, "tea?" with a sad laugh. And when you get together, it's awkward, hesitant, neither of you look like you remember. 

You're meeting a piece of yourself that you pushed away for years and coming to terms with who you are. You're looking yourself in the face and saying, I don't know you. But you sit there. You drink your tea. You have another cup, force yourself to be still. But most importantly, you listen. You don't interject what you thought, what you think. You listen and not say a word, and when she's done talking, you're weeping. Shaking from apologizing. 

Calm down. Now what? And she's saying, well, you know now, you remember. So, go do, kiddo. And you're laughing, what, it can't be that easy? But she's got a smile borne out of waiting and shakes her head slow, sipping the rest of her tea. It's not that easy, but it's that simple. You know. Her smiles slips and she's serious now. To not go after it now is to say your desires don't matter. That your authentic center isn't worth it. That your deepest beliefs and truest hopes and realest loves can't measure up. That your story, message, song isn't enough. Don't do that.

Now you're at the door and you can choose to part ways, say let's talk again soon. Or, you can listen. And you can let go of what you thought, of all the shoulds and coulds and woulds. And you can be brave enough to start over and live out what makes you come alive. You know, a part of you knows, that the same part in your heart that stings listening to this music or cries from that film or feels lopsided and soft in your hands is the same part that knows what you're supposed to be doing, what you want to be doing, what's your thing. Maybe it's like finding out that you knew where home was the entire time, that it wasn't where you thought or what you dreamed, but upon discovering it, walking into it, you realize it's better than what you thought you wanted.

We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.- Joseph Campbell

And So, You Get Up

Sometimes, life's heavy.

You don't notice it at 1st. It's like collecting stones. You start slowly, gently. At 1st, you can't feel the weight. Then it becomes harder to notice what's in front of you. You can't see the scope, the slope of the landscape, because you're focused on carrying the foundation. It's easier to shoulder it all and numb yourself to the weight.

But there's that place. That point where you read your threshold, your valley. Maybe you've walked for so long that you're bone weary and ringed with grief. Or perhaps you ran, the entire way, and your breath's knocked out of you. And you realize you don't know where you are, how you arrived. You look back and see that you've missed the markers, missed the milestones, missed the moments. Too busy holding onto the heaviness of the journey. It's been like that for so long that you're afraid you won't know who you are without it.

You have to let it go. To not go apathetic. To not go numb. To not go quiet. Don't let sorrow swallow your song. You need to be awake to the world, to life, to yourself. It feels like running for the 1st time, like stretching your shuddering muscles, like walking in the cold dew of morning. It stings. You start in the dark, with only the promise of sun. There's no light to outline the path. It doesn't matter. You've forgotten the road anyways. You've walked so long without one that trails are unfamiliar and foreign.

There's no hiding from brokenness. There's no running from grief. Some manage to evade it for longer, others find it knocking on their door daily. It has a face you cannot forget, leaves its calling card everywhere it goes. We're each stitched with ribbons of our every heartache, except, some of us are frayed. Even the best of us have tears.

Sometimes it feels easier, better, to go cold. To give into the pain and become numb, and once again, pick up the skeleton of who you were before grief marked your face. To let your heart harden. Lock it away and melt the key and live in the motions, never the moment. At the very point of pain, it seems less exhausting. But passivity's a silent slow killer, a lie that laps away at the texture of life like water on the stone.

And so, you get up. You keep moving though your bones ache. You walk until you run. You hum until you can sing. You catalogue small things until you can once again take in the scope. You choose to be awake. It's surprisingly painful. It's sobering to look around and realize you have forgotten what it means to be alive, for so long. It's October and you're barefoot and the ground has still not thawed.

Breathe. Again and again. Dive into the core and pressure point of your pain, the heart of your ache. It's red hot and white and bitter black. It shakes like starlight. You swallow it like stones. But you emerge and understand, it hasn't added a layer to your heart, but a ring. It's not a mark, but a message.

The thing about being awake is you notice things; good, bad, beautiful, painful, sorrow, sweet, bitter, broken, dizzying between everything. You cry more. You laugh deeper. You understand broken things and encourage flowers to just be. You find your soul sprouting little green things, that the roots of the marrow of being haven't left after all. And it's painful, the fire of wakening running like blood. You've been asleep for so long feeling's foreign.

But you begin to appreciate what's small. You begin to breathe gratitude. You stumble on meaning, find grace woven alongside ache. It's not easy, it's not quick. It's gradual, a journey. This time, instead of collecting stones, you're collecting colors of the sky. You jot down thanks and let them go wild in the plum breath of the evening. The smear of jam on toast, black coffee in the morning, a walk in the evening that lingers.

Look at the trees, how they burn. Look at the fields, how they deepen. Look at the world, how it cries. It's a choice to go deep and live through your pain, to feel it all, to choose to be awake to what comes. Bravely, when the time beckons, to let it go. Knowing that the struggle and searching builds strength, story, a song. Only, you'are alive and present and find the words to sing inside you, and they were, all along.

Truth Is..

To put yourself out there is hard. To share parts of your story, when you can't share the full, is hard. To juggle metaphor and meaning and to be vulnerable and say, this is where I'm at. I'm not always happy. Life's not always sweet. Sometimes it stings and slaps and feels like winter all the time. That's hard.

And then, to be judged by people who don't know your heart, to have assumptions made. To be offered pretty advice or "kind" suggestions. To be told you share too much, not enough, that you're rude, that you're melodramatic, and on and on. That makes my bones ache.

The thing is..knowing and believing are different things. And getting messages telling you to do or don't do, messages telling you who you are and who you aren't, they still hurt. I'm not going to pretend they don't. There's no power in that. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me is a pretty thought, but sadly, not always true. Especially if you're going through something absolutely crappy. If you've had a rotten day. If your heart simply hurts.

No matter that people who love you get it.

No matter that your story, your pain, your joys, are personal to you.

No matter even that you know where you're at.

It still hurts.

And thankfully, truthfully, in the end, the messages don't matter. The words don't stick. But in the middle of places in your life that are raw, they're salt in the wound, lemon on a cut. They worsen the pain, even if the source doesn't stick around. I felt myself collapsing and crumbling. I love writing. I love sharing. I love creating and connecting and being a part of this place. But it had gotten to the point when doing so didn't feel safe for my heart anymore.

But then. You lovely, kind, dear people. I don't know how you did it, if you knew. I woke up to messages on my phone. Encouraging thoughts. I'm praying for you. Love and support. A group of beautiful people all walking through your own joys, your own pain, your own stories, taking a moment to stand up and say, I may not know where you're at, but I'm with you.

I was (I am) overwhelmed. I cried. I had chills.

Because in the process of sharing our stories, in choosing to be open and vulnerable, we create a safe place to say, you are not alone, I'm standing with you, there's hope. In not hiding our brokenness, we form a community built on honesty, authenticity, strength. We create a safe haven for people to gather and share real life and the painfully beautiful and beautifully painful moments that come. We form a place to celebrate the intricacies and nuances of our stories. We're brought together and stand together. And in the places we could find ourselves so very alone, we find ourselves with not one hand to hold, but many.

So, thank you, friends. Thank you for standing beside me even if the story is not all told. Thank you for praying, for loving, for encouraging. Thank you for sharing your stories courageously and truthfully. Thank you for spreading light and hope. Thank you for reminding why this is the way that it is. Thank you for being there even if we didn't meet.

All of it matters more than I can say. You matter more than I can say. I wish I could give you all an enormous hug, could look you in the eyes, could express how overwhelmed and grateful I am and how much you've blessed me. Thank you.

Seeds and Journeys

The feeling you get in your stomach before stepping into a new place. You have to keep with the flow. You don't want to be the one that misses the first stair..smacks right into the door. Every step before you is carefully calculated, dreaded. To you at least. Everyone else seems to have it mastered..the art of stepping in, stepping up. You don't. Before you even try your mind's filled with terrifying scenarios you're convinced are about to come true. If only you could take the damn staircase, skip it all, including this dumb metaphor.

The hot mess of a metaphor I just tried to convey is my attempt at expressing how it feels to be among peers that are getting real jobs, marrying their loves, creating babies. They seemingly took off their cap and gowns after graduation and stepped right into the next phase of their lives. I applaud that. I envy that. I definitely didn't do that.

Instead, I feel like I'm merely an older version of the person I was 9 months ago when I received my degree. Nothing else has changed. Well, I teach again. Now at my former high school. It's really nostalgic being here because..well, I studied here for 5 years. So many memories..sweet and bitter. And I'm missing my friends. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I'll be teaching again at different place in the future because it brings me more time to figure out what to do post-university. It brings me time, but it doesn't slow down anyone else's clocks.

Rather, I'm a million miles away, reading updates about others' first salary, how they got promoted to higher position in their company, how they got married, and how so-and-so. I'm trying to convince myself that it's okay to take a different route, a different staircase. But it's hard to keep myself convinced daily. So instead, I'm just trying to convince myself that it's okay to feel scared, anxious..eager even. Some days all that matters is that you feel anything at all.

Even if you feel like writing a terrible, terrible metaphor for a blog post.

Anyway, I'd like to share something. Somebody told me that..what we don't realize is that you can have a life-changing encounter, travel to a place that causes a shift in your heart, can meet someone who changes you..you can go, do, read, see, watch, something, anything, that makes it just a little harder to breathe. And you think, yes! Here I go, from now on, life will be different. But the thing is, that experience isn't full-grown, it's just the seed. It's the beginning, not the road itself. That's the map that you use as a road mark, not the trail you'll walk. 

And it's up to you to decide to continue or retreat into routine and wonder why things didn't change. Too often we go through something revolutionary, good or bad, and then slip back into the normalcy of our day to day lives instead of choosing to do the hard work and tend to that seed. Then we finally take a step back and start asking ourselves why our life doesn't line up with our vision. How could that moment, the experience that mattered so intensely, seem not to have changed anything at all? That's the thing. You can have as many seeds but until you plant them, until you continually water them, until you die to self, choose to go through the process of growing..it's going to be a seed. What matters is what you do with it.

If The Internet went Quiet

Social media's primary motivation is recognition. We're searching for understanding in the form of a larger network, because what's the point in churning out updates daily if not to attract and captivate an audience, huh? Sharing our work and thoughts, connecting with people, opening up our metaphorical internet doors into our homes..these are valid reasons to check twitter. But more often, we share to share. Liking becomes less about what we like and more about the cultural recognition it gives us. Meaning is often based on cultural context, so it becomes difficult to play the game of what would our ancestors have done. Yet, what would they've seen in social media, in the internet in general? The age that we live in allows for greater communication than ever before. We're able to affect change, to widen our reach, and in powerful ways, influence our cities and the world. Networking makes connection comfortable and easy. Yet, in constantly connecting, we're losing our ability to communicate without the web to clamor behind us.

The function of social media gives us a way to say, "look what I'm doing," regardless of whether we're doing it or not. My friend and I were laughing about instagrams..from location scouting, prop styling, editing, etc. I'm not saying that these are bad things, just that our realities are skewed. It's not just about sharing our breakfast anymore..now our breakfast has to be beautiful. Which is fine. Art becoming greater in the scheme of our daily lives isn't something I oppose, but why do we do it? Is this all one huge game of follow the leader? I don't have answers, just questions. What would it look like to go off social media? What would it look like to communicate solely via letters? What's the function of blogs these days? Do we need this network? What's the point of it all? It fascinates me in a sobering way that we even have to ask ourselves these questions.

Society has evolved to a point where the thought of not having an online presence and not sharing our work puts us in league with the dinosaurs. I understand the appeal, perhaps too well. But it saddens me because I've been plugged into this changing, growing, controlling network. I wake up to the phone, check twitter. I take photo. I can talk to people without talking to them. Everything is an instagram opportunity. I should tweet that and this. 

Do you know what's sad? I've lost the ability to sit in silence. It's difficult for me to be still. I'm rediscovering how to read without interruption. I'm trying to simplify my thinking into one line, not many different avenues all begging for my attention at once. I removed notifications from my phone awhile ago, but I sit and suddenly I'm checking my phone simply to check it. Is it that I, or we, don't remember how to even exist without constantly reviewing the never-ending stream of forever updating information? As I write this, I have about 10 tabs open.

We're spending more time cultivating our online personas than our character and personality in real life. Years ago, this wasn't a part of my normal routine. Take 2004. Instagram was nonexistent and iPhones were a thing of the future. Facebook had come out only recently and blogging was starting to gain traction. Smart phones existed, but compared to our phones today, we'd have called them illiterate. Yes, we had the internet, the next thing was coming, but everything was relatively quiet. I romanticize the past, but there's a marked difference in how we operate as a people with the increase of technology and the ease of networking. Please don't think I'm proclaiming a cry of abandonment of social media. I've said before, I enjoy instagram. But I don't want to mindlessly ingest and consume without question. What does the role of social media play in our lives and how will it continue to evolve as we as a people and society grow and change?

The thought of Google Glass terrifies me, and the promise of always being connected sounds like a nightmare. Contrary to the trends of 2014, I feel most fulfilled when I'm less connected. The more I am in the "real" world, the more inspired, well-rounded, and content I am. The less connected I am on social media, the more connected I am in real life. I think it's dangerous when we enter into social networking as a natural occurrence of daily life, and don't recognize the difference between what's shared and what exists. The argument could be made that social media is part of ordinary routines, but that's the gist of this post. We're at a place when sharing is synonymous with existing, and to go without sharing is a kiss of death, or really a refusal to cry.

What would happen if the internet went quiet and we all just lived our lives? This is something I wonder about when my phone and laptop are gone.

A Piece of Corn

I remember being endlessly entertained by the adventures of my Lego toys. Some days they died violently, other days they traveled to space. I didn't understand why it's fun for me, it just was. But as I grew older, it became harder to access that imaginary space. I remember looking at them and feeling sort of frustrated and confused that things weren't the same. I could no longer connect to my toys in a way that allowed me to participate in the experience. Depression feels almost exactly like that. 

I had a depression once. I had always wanted to not give a damn about anything. I viewed feelings as a weakness, annoying obstacles on my quest for total power over myself. And I finally didn't have to feel them anymore. But my experiences slowly flattened and blended together until it became obvious that there's a huge difference between not giving a damn and not being able to give a damn. You might know that different things are happening to you, but they don't feel very different. Which leads to boredom. 

I tried to get out more, but most fun activities just left me confused or frustrated with my inability to enjoy them. Days oozed by, and I came to accept that maybe enjoyment was not a thing I got to feel anymore. I didn't want anyone to know, though. I was still sort of uncomfortable about how bored and detached I felt around other people, and I was still holding out hope that the whole thing would spontaneously work itself out. As long as I could manage to not alienate anyone, everything might be okay.

However, I couldn't rely on genuine emotion to generate facial expressions, and alienating people was inevitable. Everyone noticed. It's weird for people who still have feelings to be around depressed people. They try to help you so things can go back to normal, and it's frustrating for them when that doesn't happen. From their perspective, it seems like there has got to be some untapped source of happiness within you that you've simply lost track of, and if you could just see how beautiful things are...

I tried to explain that it's not really negativity or sadness anymore, it's more just this detached, meaningless fog where you can't feel anything about anything, even the things you love, even fun things, and you're bored and lonely, but since you've lost your ability to connect with any of the things that would normally make you feel less bored and lonely, you're stuck in the boring, lonely, meaningless void without anything to distract you from how boring, lonely, and meaningless it is. 

But people want to help. So they try harder to make you feel hopeful and positive about the situation. You explain it again; like maybe you wanna be depressed. And it keeps going like that until you're having this weird argument where you're trying to convince the person that you're far too hopeless for hope just so they'll give up on their optimism crusade and let you go back to feeling bored and lonely by yourself. And that's the most frustrating thing about depression. It isn't always something you can fight back against with hope. It isn't even something, it's nothing. And you can't combat nothing. You can't fill it up. You can't cover it. It's just there, pulling the meaning out of everything. 

It'd be like having a bunch of dead fish, but no one around you will acknowledge that the fish are dead. Instead, they offer to help you look for the fish or try to help you figure out why they died. The problem might not even have a solution. But you aren't necessarily looking for solutions. You're maybe just looking for someone to say "sorry about how dead your fish are" or "wow, those are super dead. I still like you, though." 

I started spending more time alone. But I somehow managed to convince myself that everything was still under my control. Yet there I was, casually wishing that I could stop existing in the same way you'd want to leave an empty room. It felt like I had been dragging myself through the most miserable, endless wasteland, and, far in the distance, I had seen the promising glimmer of a slightly less miserable wasteland. And for just a moment, I thought maybe I'd be able to stop and rest. But as soon as I arrived at the border of the less miserable wasteland, I found out that I'd have to turn around and walk back the other way. 

There's no comfortable way to inform other people that you're depressed. I didn't want it to be a big deal. I was also ill-prepared for the position of comforting people. The things that seemed reassuring at the time weren't necessarily comforting for others. I had so very few feelings, and everyone else had so many, and it felt like they were having all of them in front of me at once. And every direction was bull**** for a really long time. The absurdity of working so hard to continue doing something you don't like can be overwhelming. And the longer it takes to feel different, the more it starts to seem like everything might actually be hopeless. 

I had not been able to care for a very long time, and when I finally started being able to care about things again, I hated them. But hatred is technically a feeling, and my brain latched onto it like a child learning a new word. Thankfully, I rediscovered crying just before I got sick of hating things. I call this emotion crying and not sadness because that's all it really was. Just crying for the sake of crying. At some point during this phase, I was crying at the corner of my room for no reason. I was staring straight ahead at nothing in particular and feeling sort of weird about myself. Then, through the film of tears and nothingness, I spotted a tiny, shriveled piece of corn under the desk. And I laughed. That piece of corn was funny and I can't explain to anyone why it's funny. I don't even know why. I mean, the way the corn was sitting on the floor, under my dressing desk..it was so alone..and I didn't know how it got there.

Anyway, I wanted to end this on a hopeful, positive note, so, I'll just say this: Nobody can guarantee that it's gonna be okay, but..and I don't know if this will be comforting to anyone else..the possibility exists that there's a piece of corn on a floor somewhere that will make you just as confused about why you're laughing as you've ever been about why you're depressed. And even if everything still seems like hopeless, maybe it's just pointless or weird. I don't know. But when you're concerned that the miserable, boring wasteland in front of you might stretch all the way into forever, not knowing would feel strangely hopeful. So yeah, I've learned a lot and everything becomes alright, eventually. 

On Regrets

I believe in regrets. I appreciate the people who don't, and I find the saying "no regrets" both wise and optimistic. But to tell you the truth, there are some things that I'd handle differently, if given a 2nd chance. There are some things I said that I wouldn't say, and some things I didn't say that I'd love to speak aloud. As someone who probably writes and talks too much, it's the unsaid that I tend to regret most.

I'm fortunate enough not to have any significant regrets, nothing so earth-shattering that it leaves me up at night. My regrets are mostly little things, tiny tweaks I'd make to the random moments of my life. Given a 2nd chance, I'd have spent more time with my grandmother. Told my high school teacher that she inspired me a lot. Tried more vegetables when I was younger. Helped my mom gardening. I'd have chosen different course in college. Learned Mandarin.

Given a 2nd chance, I'd have forgiven myself more easily and held others to a higher standard because I'd have known that self-respect reigns most important. I'd have recognized love more quickly and acknowledged when to let go of the relationships that had run their course. I'd have skipped the unnecessary apologies, the meaningless guilt and the heavy boots that came with holding on to things for far too long. I'd have allotted more time for art. I'd have saved the petals from the first red roses Ifo ever gave me. I'd have taken more pictures.

Like I said, nothing earth-shattering. Just tiny regrets, small 2nd-chance dreams that teach me what I value and what I need to do with the rest of this life I've been given. Do you have a no-regrets attitude? Or are there things you'd have done differently?

Hey Monday

It's gonna be Monday. And it could mean 2 things: a bad ending to a good weekend or a bad start to another week.

If you're like me at all, maybe you'd snooze the alarm 6 times before jumping out of bed in hurry because you're dangerously close to being late to work. Maybe you'd run around the kitchen trying to find an instant breakfast while filling water bottle. Maybe Monday means a heavy sigh for all of the things you didn't get accomplished over the weekend, or a countdown of hours left until Tuesday. Maybe you give up on the day before it even starts. or you wish it were a different day.

And it can be, you know. You'd want your Mondays to be more than a complaint, more than a collection of all the things that can go wrong in 24 hours. Days are all about perspective. This Monday is an opportunity to start being grateful for the days you're given, regardless of how they turn out. 

Tomorrow's a brand new day. A thank you that you woke up. A smile because you slept on a comfortable bed. A grateful heart that you have a job. A deep breath of fresh air.  A celebration of another chance to do it better. An opportunity to try harder in all of your endeavors. A privilege that you have a cell phone, home, food, health, clean clothes, education, etc. 

Start off your week by making a decision to make the most out of what comes your way. Decide to let go of those things that aren't good for your soul. Wake up and put a smile on your face. Stop waiting for the perfect moment and start doing it now. Send someone a thoughtful text to start their day off right. Turn down every opportunity of anger and frustration. Do something now so that you don't have to do it later. Express gratitude and notice the beauty. Be kind to yourself. Embrace the day.

Mondays are beginnings and the best part about beginnings is that you get to write the story. Let's not hate on Monday. Have a great week ahead. :)

A Beginning

I've always been afraid of endings. I dodge them, avoid them, find any excuse to hold on to what comes before the end. It's a habit of sorts, and I'll do just about anything to put the pieces of my life on a forever timeline. My fear feels most obvious, most tangible, in the way that I read books. I dive into a narrative headfirst, moving through the pages as quickly as I can, engrossed, only to stop at the final chapter and wait days, weeks even, until I read those final pages. I cling to the hope that's found in "what if?".

Much of my life has felt permanent. My family has stayed together since I was born, my friends has been the same since high school, etc. So much of what I know is linked, the different corners of my life connected because I've made a conscious effort to connect them. My past and my present feel blurred together, and there's comfort, I think, in those ties, in the way that they erase time, making then and now and later feel not so far apart.

In the past, rather than letting a friendship or a relationship or a phase of my life come to an end, I'd force it to shift shape and evolve into something different, more manageable, never quite willing to let it go, even when that may have been easier. And I wonder, sometimes, where that comes from, why goodbye can feel so drenched in dread. I'm grateful to love someone who embraces black-and-white endings, the finality of knowing what is and what isn't. Ifo seems fearless and sure in that way. But me, I've found that I'm most comfortable lingering in the gray area, the murky space where hope seems to live.

All this is to say that I've been wrong. Because most things in life don't belong in the world of forever, and that's a good thing. Endings, for what it's worth, can actually be quite freeing, because endings are opportunities, springboards toward something new. And so maybe, all this time, what I've really feared wasn't reaching the end, but deciding what's next: a beginning.

When it Rains

Nothing can be more of a bummer when you have your day planned for going outside and the rain pours. While it's true that nothing beats the feeling of warmth brought about by sunshine, it doesn't mean that you can't have fun being indoors. You might feel that jogging feels more refreshing; shopping's a lot more fun; and other activities seem to become more interesting when the sun's out. But there are many things that you can do when it's raining when you feel like you have no choice but to be cooped at home. I don't feel cooped at all. So what I do when it rains?

Read a book. This might seem like a cliche, but it's really fun.

Watch movies. HBO, Fox, AXN and Star World are my favorite channels. 

Watch tv series that I've recorded in PVR.

Cook a lot; from my favorite meals to the new ones with new recipes. Bake. It's fun to do experiment in the kitchen especially when it rains.

Cuddle with my cats and let them nibble on my fingers. 

Enjoy a good hot cup of coffee or tea.

Browse some fancy stuff like shawls, blouses, shirts, dresses and places to go to someday.

When creativity strikes, I make some D.I.Y projects.

Sometimes I write; short stories, poems, random unsent letters. 

Learn to play piano with my old keyboard.

Blog..like right now. 

Read biographies of famous and inspirational people. 

Listen to cool songs, mostly Paramore's. 

Sleep. 

I don't do all of these things at one rainy day all at once. Since it's been endlessly raining for days, I do different things everyday. However, I still hope that the sun will shine again soon because I do miss going out with my friends..and I need the sun to dry my clothes. 

So what do you do at home when it's raining?

There will come a time when you love the sun again, you will love the flowers; but right now you may love the mist, the rain and the passing of time. Because it reminds you most of yourself, it reminds you of the uncertainty of the future and the loss of the pass. And that's okay, because you're learning to love those little parts of yourself that can be so easily forgotten in the glow and warmth of the sun. One day though, you will dance in the rays of afternoon and you will bask in the hope of restoration. But until then, know that you're allowed to love those silent moments of your life.

We are Leaves

I used to collect leaves and put them between pages of books. I do still love it, I'm just not collecting leaves anymore. You might see it as a hobby. Yes, but mostly, I like leaves because they're a lot like people. I'm not a leaf expert, but I know they're designed to maximize their exposure to light and arranged on a plant so as to not shade one another from the sun, to make sure they all grow. So kind. That's what those leaves are. Leaves are a product of their environment; the design and structure depend on the climate and external factors they're exposed to. Humans are the same.

We all thrive when we have enough exposure to light, whatever it is that your light may be. Much like leaves, when people are being their best selves, we allow room for one another to flourish. And we help each other to get there. We're products of our experiences, environments and challenges. And I believe wholeheartedly that we're doing our best, despite our present circumstances. We're weathered too. And that's what make all seasons of our lives so beautiful.

Leaves don't just fall. They're let go of by the tree, by gracefully drifting to the ground to help the tree survive. As they lay there decorating the earth's ground, they contribute their remaining nutrients to the soil. The leaves fall, land and change for a reason. So do we.

And so if you can look down at the ground and find beauty in the leaves that have fallen from their tree, can you do the same for people? When you see someone going through a difficult time or living their life in a way that's incomparable to yours, can you challenge yourself to place them in a different light? Before you make that harsh judgement, can you look them in the face and find their beauty? Can you appreciate their uniqueness? Can you remember how beautiful they once were and still are? Can you remember, that like leaves, seasons change for people too? And can you adjust your life accordingly so that they too can have some exposure to light?

Leaves have taught me that just because someone may not be high up on a tree, doesn't mean they're not adding brightness and value to the world. And at the end of your life, I'll wonder how gently you walked the earth.

Did you plant something that will grow? A seed of kindness? A smile on your face to light up someone else's? A vegetable garden? A whisper of hope? And did you grow your roots? Did you invest in something that will outnumber all of your days? Did you form loving bonds with your family members that can't be undone? And did you sit in silence on a cool, fall day and marvel at the wonder of the world? Did you appreciate its beauty? Did you offer thanks to God? 

Unrequited

..this one is quite related to the previous post..

Would you ever go after a guy that isn't interested in you? If you would, what would you do to get to know him more and how to talk to him? I'm really awkward while he's really lively.

Stop. Please, for your own sake. Guys who aren't interested in you don't deserve you. That's it. End of story. Why torture yourself over someone who doesn't appreciate all the things you have to offer? When it happens, with a person, it happens. You know. You fit. You both work for it.

If a guy didn't realize it, well maybe he may at one point "get it" but, it's not your job to wait. Do your thing. Be the best person you can be for yourself. 

Be his friend, be yourself. At the end of the day, that's all you can do. 

Love will Come Eventually

Remember I posted this: We all Start as Strangers? I mentioned about heartbreak there. So let's talk about it. Well, I'd rather slay dragons on any day than have to deal with heartbreak. Heartbreak is the pits. And I've had some trepidation about whether or not to blog about my old heartaches. Because one weird thing about blogs, it's all archived. So even whenever you try and move along, you catch yourself peeking back at those moments. Being brave is something you admire in others and long to be yourself. But it's not that I ain't moving on, of course I've moved on. I'm happier now. This is just a little sharing that might be useful for some of you.

  

So here it goes, young loves.

Long before I met my true love, I dated someone else. He was decent and kind and we had a blast together. I came to really care about him. I loved our times together and I simply adored his family. Honestly, I still respect his family. But then it happens. You know, you drift apart and you realize your lives are headed in remarkably different directions. As much as it breaks your heart and makes you dizzy all at once, you try and accept it's for the best.

But then again, holy guacamole, I had some rough days trying to believe it's for the best. Breakups are flipping weird, ya'll. You go from being best friends with a person to absolutely never speaking again. How does that even make sense? I guess it doesn't. But who ever said love made sense? And in my case, it wasn't even love after all. I must say that as much as it hurt, it was kind of a fresh start, of sorts. 

To my surprise, I got into a new groove. I came out from under my duvet to find the same beautiful world that had always been there, with or without boyfriend. I began to grow and learn so much about myself. And eventually, I met Ifo. :) 

And up until now I learn to accept some things:

• when someone shows you who they are, believe them the 1st time.
• your friends see through a lot of crap.
• don't become a doormat. People love a good doormat.
• respect (yourself, others, just as much as others should respect you).
• you can still care about him at times, but as the ever so wise Elizabeth Gilbert put it, "so miss him. Send him some love and light every time you think about him, then drop it." 
• love will come, but don't rush it.
• because it's on its way, waiting to arrive at the most perfect of times.
• just because you broke up, it doesn't make the happiness you had with the person any less real. That happiness was so real.
• never allow your heart to refuse love. Love helps you heal and somebody loves you. Allah loves you. 

Numbered Days

I've always been aware of death. Not preoccupied, scared, or fearful of, but aware. Or maybe, just cognizant of life itself. And not just life in general, but my one chance to get it right. Sure, I'll make mistakes. That's not the point. I'm aware of the fact and remind myself on a daily basis that my time here is limited. So from now until then is all I have. Because of this ever present awareness of death, I recently decided that now's the time to make sure I'm living this one life. I found myself asking, how do you want to spend your limited number of days, and my answer has consistently been, doing something meaningful, especially as required in Islam.  

We only live once, which means we have to do and be all that we're created to be. On a daily basis, we have to work to become. I personally never fulfill my new year's resolutions so instead, I'm committing myself to a year full of meaningful days. A meaningful day can truly be anything, but for me, that means taking small steps on a daily basis to change the world. Cliche? Yes. Impossible? No.

I want some meanings behind the things I buy, the places I give my money to. Where I go, what I do for fun. How I treat people. How I leave the world behind. I want to make something good even after I'm gone, not to be remembered, but at least to do the right thing for people, to make them stay alive and be better. Signing up as an organ donor, for example. While I'm aware of the possibility of death, what I really mean is that I'm making a conscious effort to be alive.

Agonizing Decision

Do you ever wonder how different your life could have been if you made a different decision? Or if you had the guts to walk away from something or someone that's causing you pain? Every day we're faced with decisions, choices and opportunities. Some we don't want to take, some we do. Some we have no choice in and some we couldn't make fast enough. 

Today I thought about all the wrong decisions I've ever made in my life and wondered if my life had been different if I didn't made them. The obvious answer would be yes of course. One of the decisions that I made and regretted was my degree course. Yep, I didn't like it. I even disliked it more when it led to another stupid decision that I made last June..which I never told anyone. No one knows about this, even my mom, my boyfriend, my best friend..so I'm gonna say it now.

I declined a job offer as one of editors at Zalora.

I came across your blog and I loved your honest and down-to-earth writing style. You also have great thought-provoking entries. Zalora is looking to collaborate eloquent and talented bloggers like yourself, and I was wondering if you would be keen on working with us. Do let me know if you are interested?

That's the 1st email I received in June 2013. I sent my resume enclosed with a sample of article. Few weeks later I was accepted and they required me to work at their HQ in KL. The excitement turned to sorrow. I had to decline it because I was in the middle of thesis and finishing degree which I couldn't turn down just like that. I made my own choice without discussing with anyone. I don't know why I did that, and so it's stupid. It is stupid now. That's the most agonizing decision I've ever made in my life. 

Every decision I've made or didn't make for that matter has all led me to where I am today. Where am I? Home. Unemployed. So the question that should be asked is "what have I learned?"

Well, the Zalora job might not be my rezeki after all. Someone else who's way braver and wiser deserves it. My life's a series of unfortunate events that have only made me stronger. Of course we never see it that way at the beginning but how does anyone know how something is going to end at the start, right?

I try to be grateful. That’s how strange life is, you have to take each day as it comes and try and always be grateful for the great things in your life. You should write a list of 10 things every morning of the things you're grateful for and see the rewards you're blessed with. Nobody can change the past and so we should take pride in learning from our mistakes and choosing to always live In the present. 

Twenty Something

When I was 13, I couldn't wait to be 18. I thought I'd know it all by then, have all the answers and that prized freedom. And when I was 16, I planned to be married by age 24..lol. I'll always smile to myself when I think about how time changes things. And when I turned 20 I made a list of as many goals as I had in years. By my 23rd birthday, I've accomplished half of them. And a funny thing will happen about the time you turn 23. People start asking about marriage and job. You begin to worry about savings, health, house, car and everything. And sometimes you start to compare your 23 years with everyone else's. You wonder if you're on the right track because it's different from all the people you're surrounded by. You start going to your friends' weddings and buying baby gifts for birthdays. And suddenly you realize you're at the exact age that seemed so far away just 5 years ago.

I’ve always liked including myself in the 20 something category. Growing up, but not quite grown up. You're an adult, but still recognize that you're part kid, you know. I've enjoyed the navigating of adulthood and all of my new first time experiences. A job. My 1st paycheck. Being old enough to travel. But it seems like the older I've gotten, the more aware I've become of my short-lived stay in the '20s' and the pressure to fit the mold of all of the rest of the 'twenthirders'. I've started to think about how easy it is to become controlled by our age. And the expectation of what your age signifies to everyone else..how old you should be by the time you graduate, buy your 1st house, get married, have kids, etc. Suddenly it seems like there are all these benchmarks to meet, even when they don't match the goals you're trying to reach.

Forget molds. Because as easy it is to forget, you're free to do what you want with your life. The problem is, that can be quite the responsibility, to live your life the way you want to, rather than the way you're expected to. Especially if that means taking a big jump. And especially when that jump may feel like a free fall. Maybe quit your 1st job and go back to college continuing study if that feels right. Maybe get married or don't. Maybe you change your mind, end a relationship that no longer serves you. Become a different person. Maybe you move away or move back home. Or maybe you're scared to do these things because it's uncomfortable and unexpected. Maybe it's because you don't know if everything would fall into place or you're scared what that would mean if it did.

Dear teenagers, when you're in your 20s, I hope you buy a flight ticket to other countries. I hope you get lost wandering all of the streets. I hope you travel the world and read lots of books. I hope you have interesting conversations over warm cups of tea. I hope you set goals and change them. Write a book. Change your mind. Start new friendships and let go of the ones that you need to. Say goodbye to all of the things that have kept you stagnant and vow to keep moving forward. I hope you stay up all night laughing with your friends. And when you're 30, learn something new. I hope your life is one of wisdom and youth, adventure and old age, no matter what year it was that you were born. And then it goes on.

But what I really mean to say is that I hope you aren't held back because of a number, that you don't rush into things because it feels like time is slipping by. Do what's right for you.  Hold on, slow down, and breathe in. Your age is your age. But more importantly, your life is your life. Don't change your journey so that it matches someone else's. We need to walk different paths so the whole world can be explored. Revel in the differences and enjoy where you are. :)

On My 23rd Birthday

3 October 1997. You have so much to learn, lil' kid.

It's my 23rd birthday! Lol. It's so impossible to be down on my birthday. I love looking at the past year and seeing how a year isn't that long of a time, but how much I've grown and improved. Sometimes you look back and realize that you had shitty times, but you made it through with a smile and made some fabulous memories along the way. That's what life is all about, staying happy! I don't know how this past year managed to fly by so quickly. It seems like just yesterday I turned 20. *gigglin* But this past year, it was amazing and life changing. Little did I know the adventures that were in store for me. And to think, that the adventures have merely just begun, well that's an incredibly wonderful thing. But, as an ode to the last year, I'd love to share 23 things I've come to know during this last year:

23. If you want to do something good, do it. Don't hesitate. People will be skeptical, people will tell you a million reasons it won't work. But if you feel you can do it, you probably can. And more than that, you'll regret it if you don't. 

22. I've done a thesis, which was one of the best things I've ever made, though definitely also one of the hardest.

21. Getting a passport and I've finally traveled! 

20. There'll be fears and there'll be dreams. Don't let the fears stop you from accomplishing your dreams by taking steps one by one to make your dreams come true. 

19. Rewarded myself with an original album of Paramore. 

18. Though far away in terms of distance, you really do keep those you love close in your heart, no matter where you are.

17. Honesty is the best policy. Just be who you are and people will like you for it, or not. But no point pleasing people who don't like you, and if you do, you will have to constantly do it which is not worth it at all.

16. People that are meant to come into your life, do. I can't control that, I can only have faith.

15. It really is about perspective & where you put your joy.

14. Blogging is still one of the greatest things I have decided to do.

13. I can actually cook. And bake. Real food. And some wickedly scrumptious home-made break. Yup.

12. Graduating from university is extremely exciting, but equally terrifying. But it's normal to feel that way. I'm going to be okay.

11. We're all going to run into a lot of naysayers in life. Let's ignore them. Better yet, let's prove them wrong. 

10. People come into our lives when they're meant to, just as much as they leave our lives when they're meant to. 

9.  It's okay to make mistakes. Really. It's not the end of the world when you do. Just know how to learn from your mistakes and try not to repeat them and be better next time. Life is a life long learning process!

8. There are a lot of things I need to quit being afraid of and just try.

7. People you don't see very often, or know particularly well, have the ability to tell you things that stay with you forever. (And things you most need to hear.)

6. Life in your twenties is pretty tricky and exciting, and really, really scary. It's okay to feel that.

5. Keep this in mind everyday: Today I am better than you, but maybe tomorrow, you'll be better than me.

4. Need to embrace uncertainty. 

3. Need to be more patient.

2. Being vulnerable is brave.

1. I am the luckiest girl in the world to have such wonderful family, friends and a boyfriend. I'm surrounded by blessings.

Thank you so much for letting me share these special life moments and lessons with you. I am forever thankful for your support! Love, love, love!