Tag Archives: change

Your own goals at your own pace.

I’m sitting in a campus café, overhearing conversations about classes, jobs, internships, etc.
I’m feeling inferior – I am definitely not taking as many classes, not applying to excessively time demanding positions, not doing as much. Period.

But then I step back and drown out the noise.
I have to stop and remind myself:

Grade point averages don’t define my worth (sometimes I wish they did)
The number of classes I am tackling this semester does not define my intelligence.

We all have different talents, work habits, interests.
We all have different plans, world-views, strategies.

We need to stop comparing ourselves to everyone around us –
We need to be the best we can be;

We need to give everything we do a hundred percent,

Success is the reward for effort and perseverance,

Achieve your own goals at your own pace – you’ll be surprised at what you’re capable of.

Listen to your mind, body, heart:  Only you know what’s best for you.

 04102012

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Worth more.

I have so much to say, but no ears want to listen.

I think about things that will break your heart.

I scribble in my notebook, but I feel no peace.

I have felt better, I have loved and been loved better.

I have been worth more.

Missing conversations with my best friends.


Bookstores.

No matter how much technology tries to convince me, I refuse to abandon my local bookstore.

There’s something about the smell of old books, new books, old bookcases. 

There’s something about that old couple who runs the place and smiles, talks, and recommends something from another time.

There’s something about the people who sit in bookstores, so absorbed that they jump when you accidentally step on their toes.

There’s something about the kids who climb the shelves, picking up books and saying, “Daddy I want this one.”

There’s something about the feel of glossy covers, torn edges, printed knowledge.

Time feels unlimited, life feels more simple, happiness less far away.

Loneliness vanishes.

Instant connection to the past, wisdom, strangers, your own personal thoughts. 

I really do hope that the bookstore does not become extinct. I want the future to feel what I feel when I walk inside and stay a while. I really do hope that paper books do not become things of the past. I want the future to know what it’s like to curl up in bed with a good book. 

 


New Year, Old Me.

People don’t change once a new calendar is hung.

People don’t become better because they say they will tomorrow, next week, next month, later in the year…

Change occurs when our desire for change overcomes our addiction to old behavior and attitude.

We become better when we strive to be better – mentally, physically, and emotionally.

This New Year inspires many to make “resolutions,” but may our resolutions be deeper than just hopes: may these resolutions become every day goals and motivations.

Here’s to a new year, and the same old me becoming the person I was meant to be.

New year, old me, following my dreams.

 


Mr. Meets-My-Criteria is not always Mr. Right

Note: This is a personal story, and sharing it makes me feel even more awful for breaking a heart. I hope I can forgive myself one day, just like he forgave me.  I apologize for the cheesiness in this story beforehand, but this was one of the many lessons in my life that has taught me to seek pure happiness- the kind that comes from within, rather than  the “happiness” that is defined for us by society, by our friends, and by our own insecurities.

There once was a boy.
He was wonderful, witty, funny, and charming.
He was from a well to-do family.
He was tall, handsome, and very sweet.
He spoke my language, he understood my culture, he knew my family.

I was visiting family in a small, small town where everybody knew everybody else.
I met him randomly, he was on his motorcycle.
I was awkward, skinny, and jet lagged.

He was good friends with my girl friends, and he shook my hand and said, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I smiled and laughed, and said I needed to go, but that I’d probably see him around.

Later that day, I was surprised by him visiting my friend’s house [where I was at].
He showed up with a bouquet full of hand-picked field daisies – my absolute favorite.

He smiled and gave them to me, and said, “I saw these and I thought of how I met you earlier this day, and wanted to give them to you as a welcoming gift. Hope you enjoy your time here.”
And with that, he drove away.
My friends giggled, and said that he’s just a gentleman.

We became friends, he would call, we would hang out with our mutual friends.
We were just friends, just friends, just friends.
But he liked me, and everyone knew, but there were complications.

He had a girlfriend. Her name was Victoria.
She was bossy, and mean, and she didn’t treat him well.
But she was his girlfriend, and I didn’t want to interfere.

He left her. He said she didn’t appreciate all that he did for her.
He was tired and he knew she wasn’t the kind of girl he wanted to be with.

He was so nice to me, so very nice.
He would get me flowers randomly, he would bring me ice cream from my favorite place, even though they closed before 2 in the morning.

He was sweet, and he liked me, and he gave me more attention than I’ve ever even wanted.
And I liked it, not him, but the attention.

He liked my curly hair, and asked me not to straighten it, or “whatever you do to it.”
He liked my awkwardness, my laugh, my random singing.
He didn’t think I was too skinny.
He didn’t mind my pickiness with food, my indecisiveness, my fears.
He was always, always there when I needed him to be.
And he liked all the things I myself hated about myself.
He made me feel like the most important person in the world.
He was a keeper – that’s what they all said.

But I didn’t like him.
I liked that he fit the criteria I had for a future boyfriend.
He fit it so well.
I liked the attention he gave me, how he was proud of me in front of his friends.
I liked that he was a nice guy.
I liked everything about him, but I didn’t like him.

So I pretended to like him.
I thought maybe one day I would actually like him.
He told me he loved me,
I smiled and hugged him and didn’t say it back.

A few weeks later, he asked me if I felt that way about him,
Since I never said “I love you” back.
So I didn’t know what to do, and I had never loved a boy before,
And thought – maybe this is love and that’s all there is to it..
So, I let the lie come out of my mouth – I love you.

He was happy, and I was happy that he was happy.
And maybe this was forever, but I was confused.

I didn’t love him, I knew that, but what if I never found anybody better than him to love me.
And I really knew that he truly loved me.

But after a few months, and some distance – we fell apart.
Or, rather, my pretending fell apart.
He would call every day, he was sweet and hopeful and everything I could have ever asked for.
But I told him that we couldn’t do this anymore.
He asked me if there was somebody else, and there really wasn’t anybody else.

I told him he was perfect, that he couldn’t have loved me better.
I told him that it wasn’t his fault, it was honestly me.
And this was the most truthful I had every been with him.

But I don’t think he believed me – He thought there was someone else, he thought it was his fault, he thought all of my kind breaking-this-up words were just attempts to make him feel better.
But I was truthful, and I honestly knew he deserved someone who could return his love and kindness.
I wanted to at least LIKE him, and I tried really hard to, but I just didn’t.
And I don’t know why, but I guess that sometimes Mr. Meets-My-Criteria is not always Mr. Right.

We parted ways, he was still a sweetheart.
He’d call on my birthday, on Christmas, and sometimes randomly a few times a month.
We would talk about life, we would laugh about good memories, we were just friends.
But in his good-byes I knew it wasn’t okay.
He wasn’t okay, and I really, really needed him to be okay.

I broke his heart. He told me that.
I saw him a year later, and he hugged me, told me I looked better than ever.
He asked if I would have tea and dessert with him that day.
I figured that that was the least I could do for him.

I apologized. I said I needed to do it in person, rather than on the phone.
He asked me to stop, he said he forgave me a long time ago.
He said he wished that things didn’t end the way they did,
He said he wished things just didn’t end at all.
I said that I was surprised he didn’t hate me,
He said, “Honey, I could never hate you.”
I almost cried. He was too nice to me.

We dropped the topic of “us” and talked about other stuff.
He said he’d dated a few girls, and that they couldn’t compare with me.
I laughed, and told him that that was ridiculous.
He laughed, and thanked me for changing his standards.

It was a nice evening, with an old friend whose heart I broke.

He took me home, and I asked him to please forget about me.
He looked sad, really sad. He said he wouldn’t forget, but that he was learning to let go.
He wished me luck and happiness in my current relationship, and he was sincere.

He finally let go. He has found happiness. We’re both happy.
But I have yet to forgive myself for breaking a heart that was so kind to me.

And from this I learned a lesson:
I learned to trust my instincts.
I learned that you can’t force yourself to love someone.
I learned that just because someone is amazing, they may not be for me to keep.
I learned that being truthful is important, always.

 

12202011


Among the clouds.

Fog invades the bay –
The world is suddenly covered in a cloud,
The world becomes so small, known, and cold.

My fingers are numb,
The cold stings my face,
Little droplets of mist tickle my nose.

Fog, a cold breeze, a bright sun –
It’s winter in California.
What I would do if I could spend it with you and your warm laughter.


Don’t go.

I’m fairly certain you will leave.

My brain has convinced me that I don’t have what it takes to make you stay.

It has made me believe that one day, you’ll wake up and realize that I am not worth it: not worth your time, your effort, your love.
You’ll walk away, you won’t look back, you’ll find happiness.

I don’t know why I am certain of this.
You have done absolutely nothing to make me believe the things that my brain has made me believe.
You have been so kind, understanding, and patient.

That’s why I keep saying, “I’m scared.”
It irritates you, every single time.
And for good reason.

But I am scared.
I am scared that I will lose you.

I’m sorry for being insecure and doubtful.
I can’t help it, I really can’t.
If you only knew what goes on in my head before I go to sleep…
I’m just scared.
I pray that you stay.