Let’s pretend that life was different.
Let’s pretend you never asked me to wait.
Let’s pretend you had a little more confidence, I had a little more kindness, and we were both a lot more brave.
I really do miss our friendship, although I cannot honestly say that I think about it often.
At times like these, when I think about the past, purely for the purpose of reflection –
I question when and where we threw everything away.
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
As I spend the next few weeks sketching out a rough game plan for my future, I plan to write more. There is just too many dreams to dream, things to do, places to see, and goals to accomplish. I love spontaneity, but I am definitely a firm believe in plans. Dreams cannot become realities if we don’t even attempt to pursue them in some logical sequence. Plans change, but that’s what makes them beautiful. The future is big. It scares me. I’m uncertain about where I will go and what I will do and who will be there with me. Nonetheless, I’m dreaming and planning, but most importantly – pursuing. With all the choices, technicalities, issues, and conflicts that arise, I am constantly reminding myself of these words:
“Don’t be too timid and squeamish about your actions.
All life is an experiment.
The more experiments you make the better.
What if they are a little coarse,
and you may get your coat soiled or torn?
What if you do fail, and get fairly rolled
in the dirt once or twice.
Up again, you shall never be so afraid of a tumble.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
04022012
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.
Life is beautifully chaotic.
Nobody really knows what they’re doing.
But we’re living.
We’re breathing
We’re running.
Time is flying.
Do what you love.
Because time is not infinite.
Love what you do.
Because this life is all we’ve got.
Everyday routine consumes my energy-
I learn, I live, I make mistakes
“I’m striving towards something greater” I say,
But uncertainty fills my mind and my plans begin to shake.
02092012
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.
In less than twelve hours, I will be on my way “home” for Thanksgiving.
Growing up, I was constantly looking forward to the day I was going to “grow up” and leave, and find myself a new city to call “home.”
But growing up does not happen in a day. We all know it’s a process: one we don’t realize we have completed until we’re so busy we can hardly breathe.
Growing up is something we look forward to as children, and once we realize that somewhere along the way we had actually already grown up, we wish to return to a child’s world of curiosity, endless time, and minimal responsibility.
So I grew up, like everybody else. I don’t know when it happened, but one day I realized that everything had become so serious, important, and time flew by fast.
I knew I had grown up.
I moved to a new city, I made new friends, I ate new food, I dressed a little different, my views had changed…
My life had changed.
I swore I would never actually want to go back “home” if it wasn’t for my lovely family and friends.
But, after a few months living away and on my own, I actually longed to go back “home” just to be there.
The winter holiday season only increases my longing for the place that I call “home.”
I miss traditions, the laughter of those whom I have known my entire life, and just being.
At home, there is no need to impress anyone, try new things, visit new places, or stress.
Home is where the heart is happy and at peace, even if only for a little while.
So I am going “home” and am ecstatic.
But this idea of “home” is so obscure.
Home used to be my parent’s house, wherever it was, where I went to sleep at night.
Home used to be the city I resided in for as long as I can remember.
But, being an immigrant, I was always surrounded by people who did not consider this town that I considered home to actually be home
(And in fact, they still don’t consider the city their home even after living within its borders for many, many years).
So I was lost.
I was born in a different city, on a different continent (although I didn’t reside there for very long). It’s considered my “hometown,” but when I visit this hometown, I feel disoriented, lost, uncomfortable, confused, and foreign.
But my passport claims that this foreign place is my hometown, and my family insists that it is in fact, my “home.”
To me: home is someplace familiar, inviting.
The town in which I went to school in, the town in which I learned to ride my bicycle and later, learned to drive a car.
This town was home to me, even though everyone insisted otherwise.
Now, living in a new city, I catch myself calling this place home.
But, when my heart is craving the company of family and friends – I reject even the slightest possibility that this is my home.
Home is so undefined.
When my heart aches for home, it’s always a different place that it longs for.
Home is not a permanent location.
Home is temporary.
Home is what we miss when we’re away.
But more importantly: home is who we miss when we’re away.
A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams. – Dr. William A Ward
And my confusion with what place to call home, leads me to believe the following words:
…This world is not my home I’m just passing through
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue…
Finding Happiness. 