At some point soon after, I stopped being able to cry. No more falling apart at the grocery store; I was cool, I was okay. I was numb and didn't know it, nor did I know it was normal.
After a short time had passed, this not crying upset me. "Something is wrong with me!", I would lament to my mother. "I want to cry, but I can't." When I finally broke down and bawled, I remembered why I had stopped crying in the first place (or so I liked to laugh it off to myself) -- crying has the concrete ability to make your eyelids the most red and hot and puffy you have ever seen them. I'm talkin' put-you're-fingers-in-front-of-your-closed-eyes-like-it's-a-game-and-feel-the-heat-radiate-from-an-inch-away kinda cryin'. No mater the heartbreak, no matter the pain, no matter what depths of raw feelings and realities I thought I had faced -- I had never cried like that before.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
The Truth, Too
3 months to the day. I didn't plan this. I guess things have a way of turning out poetic sometimes.
Three months have never felt more like forever. I'm reminded of a song that goes -
"It's comin' round again,
The slowly creeping hand,
Of time and its command.
Soon enough it comes.
And settles in its place,
Its shadow in my face,
Puts pressure in my day:
This life, well it's slippin' right through my hands...
These days turned out nothing like I had planned...
Control, well it's slippin' right through my hands...
These days turned out nothing like I had planned..."
Preach.
Three months have never felt more like forever. I'm reminded of a song that goes -
"It's comin' round again,
The slowly creeping hand,
Of time and its command.
Soon enough it comes.
And settles in its place,
Its shadow in my face,
Puts pressure in my day:
This life, well it's slippin' right through my hands...
These days turned out nothing like I had planned...
Control, well it's slippin' right through my hands...
These days turned out nothing like I had planned..."
Preach.
That Time
I use the word April as if it can buffer me from reality.
"Yeah, I never unpacked my moving boxes because of what happened in April."
"Oh, it's all fallen to shit since April."
"Somethingsomethingsomething.April."
It's long been a tactic of mine. Because avoiding saying the real words makes them not real, and because being vague somehow lessens the pain. All the while knowing it to be a bittersweet lie and a wild, careening sprint away from reality, arms wide open, running as fast as I can, screaming as I go.
I wonder how people have lost before and survived. Sometimes I look at myself from above my own body, as if in third person, and wonder how I can go about such daily, mundane tasks as if life was normal. Life will never be normal again, the other part of me scoffs at myself. As a Gemini I've always been moody. Since April, I've been surprising even myself.
See that? Since April.
I see the world differently now. I feel so much wiser, though I never wanted to be wise in this way. I feel so much more grown up, in a final, irreversible way. I let my mind wander to the way I wish it was instead of the way it seems to be.
"Yeah, I never unpacked my moving boxes because of what happened in April."
"Oh, it's all fallen to shit since April."
"Somethingsomethingsomething.April."
It's long been a tactic of mine. Because avoiding saying the real words makes them not real, and because being vague somehow lessens the pain. All the while knowing it to be a bittersweet lie and a wild, careening sprint away from reality, arms wide open, running as fast as I can, screaming as I go.
I wonder how people have lost before and survived. Sometimes I look at myself from above my own body, as if in third person, and wonder how I can go about such daily, mundane tasks as if life was normal. Life will never be normal again, the other part of me scoffs at myself. As a Gemini I've always been moody. Since April, I've been surprising even myself.
See that? Since April.
I see the world differently now. I feel so much wiser, though I never wanted to be wise in this way. I feel so much more grown up, in a final, irreversible way. I let my mind wander to the way I wish it was instead of the way it seems to be.
The Truth
I never knew it was possible to miss someone in this way. This much. I don't even know where all this hurt and pain come from. I didn't think my insides were that deep.
This Moment
I swear I just saw your picture smiling at me. No, for real. It made me smile real big. Then it creeped me out for a second and I had to look behind me to make sure your ghost wasn't there. Then I admonished myself for being scared. Silly me. I walked into my room and closed the door.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Mourning
(On April 18, 2012, we lost my younger brother Delmon Gabriel Aho to a sudden heart attack. Grieving is something I have never done before, not like this, and you are never prepared for death. I always felt blessed to have reached 30 and never have lost someone close to me. Little did I know that within a couple of years, that would all change. Sure, I had been to funerals, and some family members had passed, but all of them were much older and not that close to me. Losing my 29 year old brother was a shock, to say the least. I didn't know how to react, how to feel, what to do with myself, how to help my family. The two months since have felt like forever and a second, all at the same time. The fact of the matter is, grieving is very much a process, and you really do feel every single emotion on God's green Earth; sadness, anger, disappointment and a hundred other things, sometimes over a few days and sometimes in the space of a few hours. And though you are grieving, you also know that eventually, life goes on. Time does not stand still so you have to start doing the normal things you used to do. That said, the raw emotions sometimes pop up without a warning, usually while you're off thinking you're doing just fine.)
We still cry at the most inopportune times. At first it made sense; heaps of tears and pain tumbled out instead of my order at Starbucks. That was the first week. It took everything in me to say two sentences to the kind woman behind the counter, this stranger who told me with genuine care - I could see it in her eyes, "I'm sorry you're having such a bad day." If she only knew.
A few days ago it was while sharing a steak sandwich with my mom at the food court. It was because I felt so helpless in easing her pain. We had a good cry over the remnants of our meal while I felt people's eyes on us, wondering what was wrong. We didn't have too much of an appetite after that.
This past Tuesday it was while sitting on a plane, traveling to NY on a trip that's supposed to make me feel better. It more or less came out of nowhere. I half-heartedly hid my face from my seat mates as I tried to cry quietly and imagined my answer to their unasked question: "My brother died two months ago. We still cry at the most random of times."
And earlier today it was on the subway, triggered by the sight of a young boy seated next to his dad. It made me think of how awful it must be for a parent to lose a child, after all the hard work you put into raising them, and though I knew this before, in that moment it hit home. I barely kept it together on the train. By the time I got to street level I was practically hyperventilating trying to keep the tears inside. I scrapped my plans and made a beeline for the place I always used to go to sit in solitude when I was having a rough day. I was disappointed to find that there would be no solitude there today, but I bawled for almost two hours anyway while I prayed, thought, wished, talked and felt things I hadn't been allowing myself to feel for a while now.
It was hard, so hard, but I came away feeling better. I came away realizing that though people mourn differently, there are many things that everyone across the board feels regardless of how old they are, where they're from, under what traditions they were raised and no matter the circumstances of their loved one's death. The only way to heal is to productively and proactively help yourself, whatever that means for you. Feel your way around until you find what works. Though others can help, no one can do it for you, and ignoring your emotions is probably the worst thing you can do. We are all in this together and we will all be okay, just like Delmon is ok, looking down on us with so much more knowledge about why things happen than we have down here. We have to believe there is a bigger picture and a better plan, and until the day comes that we can accept what has transpired, I wish us all peace and comfort and consoled hearts.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Untitled II
No amount of flying will result in new dreams or new realities,
No depth of sighs or number a breath taken will bring him back.
He stays lonely and watching us,
Floating above.
Reproachful,
Accepting,
Forgiving,
Above.
No words written or words spoken,
No chests heaved and hearts broken,
No teared eyes or hot face,
No love lost or love gained,
Will bring him back.
No depth of sighs or number a breath taken will bring him back.
He stays lonely and watching us,
Floating above.
Reproachful,
Accepting,
Forgiving,
Above.
No words written or words spoken,
No chests heaved and hearts broken,
No teared eyes or hot face,
No love lost or love gained,
Will bring him back.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Untitled.
I spent, 30 days completely lost
In, 100 ways completely fogged
Thirty days
Dirty, crazed
Love me, try
My flirty ways
That,
Lead to being completely mazed,
So insane,
Completely drained.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Easy-Peasy, Life Was Breezy
Once upon a time, life was easy. Or at least this is what I think now because at the moment, life is hard.
I moved to New York City at 23 with a dollar and a dream. OK, I had more than $1 but not by much. What I did have was drive and ambition. I had hunger. And I had optimism. The early years of relentlessly harassing people (in a nice way) so I could get my foot in the fashion industry door, the late nights at the office proving myself and climbing up the ladder, the years of having 2 and 3 jobs. They all seem so distant now, so easy because I don't think about them and I forgot how hard it was at the beginning.
What I remember is how much simpler it was from the middle on. At some point you make enough money at your real job to not have to work another one. Projects come easier than they used to, you get jobs via referrals and word of mouth. Most of the time you don't even need to interview anymore. At least I didn't. I guess I should have enjoyed it more while I had it so good.
A while back on a regular day, while doing a regular mundane thing, I realized I had been in San Diego for 5 months and hadn't accomplished most of the things I had thought I would. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Did it put a fire under my ass to get things moving? Yes. Did it also cause 1 mini-meltdown per week since then? That would be yes. I have been trying to conquer the voice in my head that all too often says: "I didn't do enough, I didn't research grad schools enough, I haven't gotten anywhere. I don't have a job, I need a job. What if this whole thing doesn't work out??"
Multiply that intensity x10 to get a feel for how frantic I really get.
Moving across the country this time around is so different. I had lofty thoughts and noble ideas about a new career and how to get there. I see myself there. I imagine my life 5 years from now and professionally I am where I want to be. But actually getting there is proving to be more difficult than I expected. At the moment, my efforts are not yielding any tangible results and getting there seems so far away.
I moved to New York City at 23 with a dollar and a dream. OK, I had more than $1 but not by much. What I did have was drive and ambition. I had hunger. And I had optimism. The early years of relentlessly harassing people (in a nice way) so I could get my foot in the fashion industry door, the late nights at the office proving myself and climbing up the ladder, the years of having 2 and 3 jobs. They all seem so distant now, so easy because I don't think about them and I forgot how hard it was at the beginning.
What I remember is how much simpler it was from the middle on. At some point you make enough money at your real job to not have to work another one. Projects come easier than they used to, you get jobs via referrals and word of mouth. Most of the time you don't even need to interview anymore. At least I didn't. I guess I should have enjoyed it more while I had it so good.
A while back on a regular day, while doing a regular mundane thing, I realized I had been in San Diego for 5 months and hadn't accomplished most of the things I had thought I would. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Did it put a fire under my ass to get things moving? Yes. Did it also cause 1 mini-meltdown per week since then? That would be yes. I have been trying to conquer the voice in my head that all too often says: "I didn't do enough, I didn't research grad schools enough, I haven't gotten anywhere. I don't have a job, I need a job. What if this whole thing doesn't work out??"
Multiply that intensity x10 to get a feel for how frantic I really get.
Moving across the country this time around is so different. I had lofty thoughts and noble ideas about a new career and how to get there. I see myself there. I imagine my life 5 years from now and professionally I am where I want to be. But actually getting there is proving to be more difficult than I expected. At the moment, my efforts are not yielding any tangible results and getting there seems so far away.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Perfect Moment Monday: Peaceful Mornings
Perfect Moment Monday is sponsored by Write Mind/Open Heart and is described as "...noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between." I think it's a great way to make us all more mindful of the good things that happen to us. There's always at least one perfect moment...!
This week's Moment is as simple as they come, and I didn't have to put forth any effort in order to have my 2nd one this week. It is simply the beauty and peacefulness of a house in the early morning - or on a weekend, the early afternoon - before anyone else has woken up. The sun is streaming in through the window, the only source of light, filtered into softness by the curtain. The rest of the apartment is settled in darkness. There is no TV on, no music blasting from a laptop. Even the sounds of the neighbors, living upstairs, doesn't bother me.
These are rare moments in my home. As I lay in the living room, in the center of it all, I take it in, thoroughly enjoying everything about this uninterrupted quiet time. I think about how peaceful and perfect it is, and I love it.
This week's Moment is as simple as they come, and I didn't have to put forth any effort in order to have my 2nd one this week. It is simply the beauty and peacefulness of a house in the early morning - or on a weekend, the early afternoon - before anyone else has woken up. The sun is streaming in through the window, the only source of light, filtered into softness by the curtain. The rest of the apartment is settled in darkness. There is no TV on, no music blasting from a laptop. Even the sounds of the neighbors, living upstairs, doesn't bother me.
These are rare moments in my home. As I lay in the living room, in the center of it all, I take it in, thoroughly enjoying everything about this uninterrupted quiet time. I think about how peaceful and perfect it is, and I love it.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Perfect Moment Monday: Moments
Perfect Moment Monday is sponsored by Write Mind/Open Heart and is described as "...noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between." I think it's a great way to make us all more mindful of the good things that happen to us. There's always at least one perfect moment...!
Moment #1: By the time I got home last night, I was in a less than wonderful mood. And by less than wonderful, I mean upset, sad, lonely and disillusioned. I sat on the floor to play with Ciela and within a couple of minutes, gave in to my true desire, which was to just slump over to the left, hug the floor and cry. I wondered if she would run to my lap, lick my face and comfort me. Isn't that what dogs do when their human is sad? Instead, she continued about her business, jumped over my legs, back into her play pen, jumped back out, ran around, played around, acted as silly as she wanted to be. I couldn't help but laugh through my tears, once, twice, again as she continued to make the expressions and movements that define Ciela, absorbed in her own little world. In that moment I realized one of the gifts of having a dog. She hadn't given me what I thought she would, but she made me feel better in her own way, in what turned out to be a better way. Laughing instead of more self-pity, which is what the result would have been had she just babied me. It pays to realize you can get what you need in ways you weren't expecting to get it. A Perfect lesson for someone who tries to be as in-control as me.
Moment #2: I made a mad dash for the crosstown bus, stupidly making a run for it in front of oncoming traffic. It was 31° and I wasn't dressed warmly enough, and there was no way I was missing this bus just to have to wait endlessly in the cold for another one. When I got to the other side of the street, I leapt up on the sidewalk and kept running for the front of the bus - this weather was no joke. I jumped up and down to keep warm as passengers boarded, more people got off, and a man rummaged in his huge gym bag for his metro card. I got to the front of the line. A little boy, couldn't be more than 11 or 12 years old, motioned to the door of the warm insides of that huge machine and said "Go ahead". Young chivalry in its simplest, finest form. "Aww, thanks sweetie," I said, more than a little surprised, and gave him a genuine smile before I climbed the stairs ahead of him. Sometimes it really is the small things in life.
Moment #3: For way too long now, I've been talking about making moves, but it's been mostly talk and very little action. Today I made the decision to stop wasting time and finally set things in motion. I'm hesitatingly excited, pretty anxious, a little scared and a lot antsy! But I'm happy to have finally made a decision that's been sitting stagnant too long while I tried to do what I considered enough research, figure out everything I possibly could, envision every scenario and plan every detail. Sometimes you just have to take the plunge; what's the worst that could happen? I'm getting ready to leave NY y'all! (Just typing that scared the shit outta me, by the way). For so long I've been making every excuse to dillydally, trying to make perfect plans before I could make a final decision. But sometimes you just gotta hold your breath and jump, and the wonderful feeling of finally doing that is more perfect than any extensive planning I could have done.
Moment #1: By the time I got home last night, I was in a less than wonderful mood. And by less than wonderful, I mean upset, sad, lonely and disillusioned. I sat on the floor to play with Ciela and within a couple of minutes, gave in to my true desire, which was to just slump over to the left, hug the floor and cry. I wondered if she would run to my lap, lick my face and comfort me. Isn't that what dogs do when their human is sad? Instead, she continued about her business, jumped over my legs, back into her play pen, jumped back out, ran around, played around, acted as silly as she wanted to be. I couldn't help but laugh through my tears, once, twice, again as she continued to make the expressions and movements that define Ciela, absorbed in her own little world. In that moment I realized one of the gifts of having a dog. She hadn't given me what I thought she would, but she made me feel better in her own way, in what turned out to be a better way. Laughing instead of more self-pity, which is what the result would have been had she just babied me. It pays to realize you can get what you need in ways you weren't expecting to get it. A Perfect lesson for someone who tries to be as in-control as me.
Moment #2: I made a mad dash for the crosstown bus, stupidly making a run for it in front of oncoming traffic. It was 31° and I wasn't dressed warmly enough, and there was no way I was missing this bus just to have to wait endlessly in the cold for another one. When I got to the other side of the street, I leapt up on the sidewalk and kept running for the front of the bus - this weather was no joke. I jumped up and down to keep warm as passengers boarded, more people got off, and a man rummaged in his huge gym bag for his metro card. I got to the front of the line. A little boy, couldn't be more than 11 or 12 years old, motioned to the door of the warm insides of that huge machine and said "Go ahead". Young chivalry in its simplest, finest form. "Aww, thanks sweetie," I said, more than a little surprised, and gave him a genuine smile before I climbed the stairs ahead of him. Sometimes it really is the small things in life.
Moment #3: For way too long now, I've been talking about making moves, but it's been mostly talk and very little action. Today I made the decision to stop wasting time and finally set things in motion. I'm hesitatingly excited, pretty anxious, a little scared and a lot antsy! But I'm happy to have finally made a decision that's been sitting stagnant too long while I tried to do what I considered enough research, figure out everything I possibly could, envision every scenario and plan every detail. Sometimes you just have to take the plunge; what's the worst that could happen? I'm getting ready to leave NY y'all! (Just typing that scared the shit outta me, by the way). For so long I've been making every excuse to dillydally, trying to make perfect plans before I could make a final decision. But sometimes you just gotta hold your breath and jump, and the wonderful feeling of finally doing that is more perfect than any extensive planning I could have done.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
I Could Have...
I could have been born anywhere, as anyone. I didn't have to be me.
I could be living in an African village, playing in trash-strewn dirt streets, knowing little of the world outside of my immediate surroundings. I could have been born in Syria and never stepped foot in America, and I wouldn't have been part of a family known as mughtareebeen* every time I was introduced to someone new. I could have been non-independent, following what others told me to do blindly because that's just the way things are supposed to be. I would have saved myself the pain & anger of all those fights with my parents to let me have my own life, let me do things my way. I could have been meek and quiet and obedient, and for a while I was.
I could have been someone who didn't stand up for her ideals, who didn't believe people shouldn't be judged by their skin color, their religion, how much they weigh or who they love. I could have been prejudiced, racist, a bigot, a bitch. Instead I continued to dance "like Blacks" in our kitchen as he questioned me disapprovingly, marching to the beat of my own drum at 9; had best friends of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, I can't even count how many ethnicities, by the time I was in junior high, not giving a damn what the neighbors thought; explored true love at 16 because I didn't believe God cared that we didn't worship in the same place; found my second sister in my 20's because I know those connections transcend race. I have traveled and learned and seen and been and lived. I have been blessed and I know it.
I could have been an underachiever, spending my days sitting on the couch doing nothing, not earning an income, not aiming for anything, not having a career, not achieving a thing. I could have never moved to the greatest city in the world and never accomplished the things that I have. I could have been still living at home, mooching off those around me, living one boring day to the next, wondering if life was ever going to get exciting. Instead I created my own excitement and have loved every adventure I've been on, and appreciated even the gut-wrenching ones I hated, albeit later.
I could have been narrow-minded, non-nurturing, never-forgiving and not loving of myself. I could have never bothered to take the time and the pains to work on myself, analyze myself, make myself a better person. I could have not been introspective and not given a shit that I wasn't. I could have been certifiably crazy, mentally ill, a drug addict, an alcoholic, a verbally abusive asshole or just a plain old miserable prick. I could have been granted no gifts or skills at all, and wandered around feeling like I could never be anything. I could have been a waitress, a truck driver, a lawyer; a housewife, a Queen; living in a shack by the beach, or walking the halls of my mansion everyday just for fun, to remind myself how big of a house I had the pleasure to live in. I could have been scrooge or I could have had enough to feed every starving child in the world.
I could have been a man. I could have been someone else's sister, someone else's daughter, someone else's son. I could have been loving, caring and kind or I could have been selfish, miserable and mean. I could have won the lottery or lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere, been the youngest of 12 in a crowded but loving family, or the illegitimate offspring of a lovers' tryst. I could have been born HIV+ or succumbed to an illness at a young age or live to be 90 on my deathbed, surrounded by everyone I love. I could have been born on the streets, never to know a home or the warmth of a homecooked meal made by someone who loved me. I could have lived a tragedy or a triumph, or anything in between.
My life could have been completely different than what it has been. Just think about it; you, too, could have been born into a different family, another destiny. You could be someone else entirely with different views, different experiences, different ideals. I am thankful for the journey I have had; even the bad parts have made me who I am, and I love who that person is.
*People who emigrate to the West in Arabic
I could be living in an African village, playing in trash-strewn dirt streets, knowing little of the world outside of my immediate surroundings. I could have been born in Syria and never stepped foot in America, and I wouldn't have been part of a family known as mughtareebeen* every time I was introduced to someone new. I could have been non-independent, following what others told me to do blindly because that's just the way things are supposed to be. I would have saved myself the pain & anger of all those fights with my parents to let me have my own life, let me do things my way. I could have been meek and quiet and obedient, and for a while I was.
I could have been someone who didn't stand up for her ideals, who didn't believe people shouldn't be judged by their skin color, their religion, how much they weigh or who they love. I could have been prejudiced, racist, a bigot, a bitch. Instead I continued to dance "like Blacks" in our kitchen as he questioned me disapprovingly, marching to the beat of my own drum at 9; had best friends of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, I can't even count how many ethnicities, by the time I was in junior high, not giving a damn what the neighbors thought; explored true love at 16 because I didn't believe God cared that we didn't worship in the same place; found my second sister in my 20's because I know those connections transcend race. I have traveled and learned and seen and been and lived. I have been blessed and I know it.
I could have been an underachiever, spending my days sitting on the couch doing nothing, not earning an income, not aiming for anything, not having a career, not achieving a thing. I could have never moved to the greatest city in the world and never accomplished the things that I have. I could have been still living at home, mooching off those around me, living one boring day to the next, wondering if life was ever going to get exciting. Instead I created my own excitement and have loved every adventure I've been on, and appreciated even the gut-wrenching ones I hated, albeit later.
I could have been narrow-minded, non-nurturing, never-forgiving and not loving of myself. I could have never bothered to take the time and the pains to work on myself, analyze myself, make myself a better person. I could have not been introspective and not given a shit that I wasn't. I could have been certifiably crazy, mentally ill, a drug addict, an alcoholic, a verbally abusive asshole or just a plain old miserable prick. I could have been granted no gifts or skills at all, and wandered around feeling like I could never be anything. I could have been a waitress, a truck driver, a lawyer; a housewife, a Queen; living in a shack by the beach, or walking the halls of my mansion everyday just for fun, to remind myself how big of a house I had the pleasure to live in. I could have been scrooge or I could have had enough to feed every starving child in the world.
I could have been a man. I could have been someone else's sister, someone else's daughter, someone else's son. I could have been loving, caring and kind or I could have been selfish, miserable and mean. I could have won the lottery or lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere, been the youngest of 12 in a crowded but loving family, or the illegitimate offspring of a lovers' tryst. I could have been born HIV+ or succumbed to an illness at a young age or live to be 90 on my deathbed, surrounded by everyone I love. I could have been born on the streets, never to know a home or the warmth of a homecooked meal made by someone who loved me. I could have lived a tragedy or a triumph, or anything in between.
My life could have been completely different than what it has been. Just think about it; you, too, could have been born into a different family, another destiny. You could be someone else entirely with different views, different experiences, different ideals. I am thankful for the journey I have had; even the bad parts have made me who I am, and I love who that person is.
*People who emigrate to the West in Arabic
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Perfect Moment Monday: I'll Be Home For Christmas
Perfect Moment Monday is sponsored by Write Mind/Open Heart and is described as "...noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between." I think it's a great way to make us all more mindful of the good things that happen to us. There's always at least one perfect moment...!
I wasn't going to come home for Christmas this year. I didn't feel like packing or being on a plane for six hours or dealing with airport craziness. Tickets were too expensive, cabs to JFK run $50 plus tip each way, and a ticket for Ciela is $200 roundtrip. There was no way I was gonna do it.
But the closer it got to Christmas, the more I realized I would have nothing to do if I stayed in NY by myself. Plans of going to friend's houses changed and I knew I would end up home alone on Christmas Eve, the night we always celebrate, and I would be miserable. On the flip side, I thought it was interesting that we all make such a big deal out of this holiday every year; it's technically only the one day. I thought, if I can just get through that one day, ill be fine. But then my sister called me, and presented an argument I couldn't argue with; "Come home, I'm lonely". Not in the 'I have no one around me' sense of the word, but in the 'I miss my only sister' sense of the word. Well, I was lonely too I said. So I let go of all my reasons I wasn't going home and started looking for tickets when we hung up the phone.
Everyone knew about my upcoming trip, but I asked them all to keep it quiet around my nephews. I wanted to surprise them because they weren't expecting to see me until sometime in February. The day I arrived, my mom picked me up at the airport, we grabbed some lunch to go, and headed to my sister's house. I instructed my mom and brother to walk in ahead of me with all the food except mine, so as not to raise eyebrows, while I hung back in the hallway with Ciela. My nephews already suspected I was in town because of some slip-ups, but I wanted to see if I could still surprise them at least a little bit.
A few minutes later, after I figured they probably thought their only visitors that day would be Tetah (my mom) and Haulo D (my brother), I nonchalantly walked in the door and acted like it was totally normal that I was there. I watched as one nephew literally fell to the floor in surprise as he said "What!?!" and as the other jumped up from his chair with a huge smile on his face. Hugging and kissing and loudness and chaos ensued.
My precious angels, and my Perfect Moment.
I wasn't going to come home for Christmas this year. I didn't feel like packing or being on a plane for six hours or dealing with airport craziness. Tickets were too expensive, cabs to JFK run $50 plus tip each way, and a ticket for Ciela is $200 roundtrip. There was no way I was gonna do it.
But the closer it got to Christmas, the more I realized I would have nothing to do if I stayed in NY by myself. Plans of going to friend's houses changed and I knew I would end up home alone on Christmas Eve, the night we always celebrate, and I would be miserable. On the flip side, I thought it was interesting that we all make such a big deal out of this holiday every year; it's technically only the one day. I thought, if I can just get through that one day, ill be fine. But then my sister called me, and presented an argument I couldn't argue with; "Come home, I'm lonely". Not in the 'I have no one around me' sense of the word, but in the 'I miss my only sister' sense of the word. Well, I was lonely too I said. So I let go of all my reasons I wasn't going home and started looking for tickets when we hung up the phone.
Everyone knew about my upcoming trip, but I asked them all to keep it quiet around my nephews. I wanted to surprise them because they weren't expecting to see me until sometime in February. The day I arrived, my mom picked me up at the airport, we grabbed some lunch to go, and headed to my sister's house. I instructed my mom and brother to walk in ahead of me with all the food except mine, so as not to raise eyebrows, while I hung back in the hallway with Ciela. My nephews already suspected I was in town because of some slip-ups, but I wanted to see if I could still surprise them at least a little bit.
A few minutes later, after I figured they probably thought their only visitors that day would be Tetah (my mom) and Haulo D (my brother), I nonchalantly walked in the door and acted like it was totally normal that I was there. I watched as one nephew literally fell to the floor in surprise as he said "What!?!" and as the other jumped up from his chair with a huge smile on his face. Hugging and kissing and loudness and chaos ensued.
My precious angels, and my Perfect Moment.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Perfect Moment Monday: Island Dreams
Perfect Moment Monday is sponsored by Write Mind/Open Heart and is described as "...noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between." I think it's a great way to make us all more mindful of the good things that happen to us. There's always at least one perfect moment...!
As I walked out of the pharmacy, the word ISLAND in bold, capital letters caught my eye. It was a 2011 calendar showcasing 12 different islands on its sealed pages. I smiled and stopped, picked it up from the low shelf and flipped it over. Nevis was the first word that caught my eye; Caribbean, Nevis. "I know someone from there, how funny", I thought.
I scanned the rest of the photos. My eyes slowly traveled up to the very first one, January. Trunk Bay, St. John, US Virgin Islands. I smiled again. I had been there, several times. The journey there from St Thomas had become as easy to me as a trip to NJ from the city via Penn Station. A ferry ride over from Red Hook, a safari (share taxi) up the winding mountain road, the gorgeous view of Trunk Bay below us just minutes before we are deposited at the entrance. The photo couldn't have been more than a couple of inches wide, but I quickly picked out the underwater snorkel trail, visible so easily to my familiar eye.
I had always wanted to live on a Caribbean island, it had always been one of my dreams. Now, how much I enjoyed or didn't enjoy living on one is a story for another post. My perfect moment today was in realizing just how many things I have been blessed to be able to do in my life. Seeing a picture of St. John's most famous beach, something most people see only in pictures, and knowing that for a while, it had become somewhere I could go with friends on a random Sunday, was amazing in a peaceful and content way. Perfect Moment straight out of nowhere.
And that's Perfect, too.
As I walked out of the pharmacy, the word ISLAND in bold, capital letters caught my eye. It was a 2011 calendar showcasing 12 different islands on its sealed pages. I smiled and stopped, picked it up from the low shelf and flipped it over. Nevis was the first word that caught my eye; Caribbean, Nevis. "I know someone from there, how funny", I thought.
I scanned the rest of the photos. My eyes slowly traveled up to the very first one, January. Trunk Bay, St. John, US Virgin Islands. I smiled again. I had been there, several times. The journey there from St Thomas had become as easy to me as a trip to NJ from the city via Penn Station. A ferry ride over from Red Hook, a safari (share taxi) up the winding mountain road, the gorgeous view of Trunk Bay below us just minutes before we are deposited at the entrance. The photo couldn't have been more than a couple of inches wide, but I quickly picked out the underwater snorkel trail, visible so easily to my familiar eye.
I had always wanted to live on a Caribbean island, it had always been one of my dreams. Now, how much I enjoyed or didn't enjoy living on one is a story for another post. My perfect moment today was in realizing just how many things I have been blessed to be able to do in my life. Seeing a picture of St. John's most famous beach, something most people see only in pictures, and knowing that for a while, it had become somewhere I could go with friends on a random Sunday, was amazing in a peaceful and content way. Perfect Moment straight out of nowhere.
And that's Perfect, too.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Crash & Burn
Bad things happen when a person takes on way more than they can reasonably handle, and this is what has recently happened with me. In September I started 2 credit courses at FIT, started a weekly training regimen to get little miss Ciela in line, and started working again. I was also trying to research schools for a Masters program and stressing about where I should move. Add that to everyday tasks and eventually, increasing demands related to the list I just outlined (oh, and many sleepless barking-puppy-filled nights) and it's easy to see why sometime in November I completely checked out.
Before taking on a million and one things, my schedule kind of consisted of no schedule. I remember waking up whenever I wanted to, doing whatever I wanted with my days, making the most of my first unemployed and therefore freedom-filled summer in NYC. But honestly, I can only lazy around for so long, and pretty soon, I was fed up of doing nothing and pretty frustrated with my financial status. Sure I had plenty of time to do plenty of things (but not too much money with which to do those things; forever the bittersweet reality of unemployment, by the way). But I was tired of being unproductive. I needed to accomplish something again. And somehow I went into overdrive.
At first it wasn't so bad; I worked, I went to class, I handed in homework on time, and I kept up my social life. I remember enjoying the hustle & bustle of it at the beginning, I even thrived on the excitement of 'doing it all'. But eventually, all the to-do's weighed me down. I wasn't able to stay organized, I complained at work about lack of sleep due to said unorganization, and I was generally miserable. I worked full-time hours and had obligations almost every single day after work: Monday, Ciela's training session; Tuesday, long-standing recurring engagement that wasn't going anywhere anytime soon; Wednesday, photography class from 6-9; Thursday, freedom (imagine that) and Friday, a 2 hour web page construction class in a dimly lit computer lab that left me more sleepy than anything else. I was also supposed to train Ciela every day to reinforce what she had learned on Monday, as well as conduct "good times" sessions between her and Monet's dog because they didn't get along and I was tired of the doggy disagreements and ensuing growling that that caused, but let's be realistic, that didn't happen every day.
What did happen was that October became even more miserable and by November, when my mother came to visit and my work assignment ended, I subconsciously took that as a chance to take my life to the other extreme. The photography project that was due in a few short weeks - whatever, I would worry about it later. The five or so late homework assignments, not to mention a complete website as a final project, for the other class - not even thinking about 'em. Ciela's training - um, yeah... sure. I quite simply did not care. Instead of taking the 2 or 3 week span while my mom was here to focus on my responsibilities now that I didn't have to be in an office every day, I did absolutely nothing. Instead of using my time wisely, I pretty much didn't use it. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time with my mom; we went on an awesome East Coast road trip that neither of us will ever forget. But I could have used some of that time - or the time since - much more sensibly, and of course now I regret it.
I'm still trying to get back in the swing of things but honestly, I have little motivation, especially since I started working again. I prolong sleep in an attempt to distance myself from my current reality, in hopes that some tasks will have miraculously disappeared by the time I've finished hitting the snooze button (hasn't happened yet, by the way). I somehow completed my photography project and was ridiculously proud of myself when I did so. I have since been trying to find the motivation to work on my website project, but it seems my motivation is so misplaced I'll never find it. I have sat in this kitchen chair for the better part of a whole day today, thinking about getting to work on it... I even managed to finally pull my notebook out of my bag and plug in my flash drive. But I have found every excuse to do other things and have accomplished zero work. Yes, some of the things I have done instead were important and even productive (for example, researching Masters programs, yay me) but still, all were done in an attempt to run away from the daunting task at hand.
Moral of the story? There's really only so much you can do without feeling like you are going to lose your mind. Don't let yourself get to that point. Because recovering from a crash & burn has never been so slow & painful.
Before taking on a million and one things, my schedule kind of consisted of no schedule. I remember waking up whenever I wanted to, doing whatever I wanted with my days, making the most of my first unemployed and therefore freedom-filled summer in NYC. But honestly, I can only lazy around for so long, and pretty soon, I was fed up of doing nothing and pretty frustrated with my financial status. Sure I had plenty of time to do plenty of things (but not too much money with which to do those things; forever the bittersweet reality of unemployment, by the way). But I was tired of being unproductive. I needed to accomplish something again. And somehow I went into overdrive.
At first it wasn't so bad; I worked, I went to class, I handed in homework on time, and I kept up my social life. I remember enjoying the hustle & bustle of it at the beginning, I even thrived on the excitement of 'doing it all'. But eventually, all the to-do's weighed me down. I wasn't able to stay organized, I complained at work about lack of sleep due to said unorganization, and I was generally miserable. I worked full-time hours and had obligations almost every single day after work: Monday, Ciela's training session; Tuesday, long-standing recurring engagement that wasn't going anywhere anytime soon; Wednesday, photography class from 6-9; Thursday, freedom (imagine that) and Friday, a 2 hour web page construction class in a dimly lit computer lab that left me more sleepy than anything else. I was also supposed to train Ciela every day to reinforce what she had learned on Monday, as well as conduct "good times" sessions between her and Monet's dog because they didn't get along and I was tired of the doggy disagreements and ensuing growling that that caused, but let's be realistic, that didn't happen every day.
What did happen was that October became even more miserable and by November, when my mother came to visit and my work assignment ended, I subconsciously took that as a chance to take my life to the other extreme. The photography project that was due in a few short weeks - whatever, I would worry about it later. The five or so late homework assignments, not to mention a complete website as a final project, for the other class - not even thinking about 'em. Ciela's training - um, yeah... sure. I quite simply did not care. Instead of taking the 2 or 3 week span while my mom was here to focus on my responsibilities now that I didn't have to be in an office every day, I did absolutely nothing. Instead of using my time wisely, I pretty much didn't use it. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time with my mom; we went on an awesome East Coast road trip that neither of us will ever forget. But I could have used some of that time - or the time since - much more sensibly, and of course now I regret it.
I'm still trying to get back in the swing of things but honestly, I have little motivation, especially since I started working again. I prolong sleep in an attempt to distance myself from my current reality, in hopes that some tasks will have miraculously disappeared by the time I've finished hitting the snooze button (hasn't happened yet, by the way). I somehow completed my photography project and was ridiculously proud of myself when I did so. I have since been trying to find the motivation to work on my website project, but it seems my motivation is so misplaced I'll never find it. I have sat in this kitchen chair for the better part of a whole day today, thinking about getting to work on it... I even managed to finally pull my notebook out of my bag and plug in my flash drive. But I have found every excuse to do other things and have accomplished zero work. Yes, some of the things I have done instead were important and even productive (for example, researching Masters programs, yay me) but still, all were done in an attempt to run away from the daunting task at hand.
Moral of the story? There's really only so much you can do without feeling like you are going to lose your mind. Don't let yourself get to that point. Because recovering from a crash & burn has never been so slow & painful.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Perfect Moment Monday: Learning
Perfect Moment Monday is sponsored by Weebles Wobblog and is described as "...noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between." I think it's a great way to make us all more mindful of the good things that happen to us. There's always at least one perfect moment...!
The first week of September I had my first photography assignment, and suffice it to say, I was nervous as hell. I still didn't know diddly about f-stops, shutter speed, ISOs, lighting, and so on. The instructions were to 'create a photograph in the style of' a photo of our choice, a photo snapped by photographers who had more experience in the tip of their clicking index finger than I had in my whole body. We were not supposed to recreate the photo per se, and this proved to be much easier said than done. The day of the shoot, we went up to the roof and I tried to figure out how to get the same lighting as my chosen photograph. Did I mention I don't know jack about lighting? Yeah. I felt uncomfortable and out of my element, and I kept apologizing for not knowing what I was doing and taking too long to do it. My model was awesome and helpful and patient, but my frustrations only grew as I continued to actually get some great shots - but nothing I could use for this assignment. After over 100 shots, I decided I had some I could work with, and called it a day.
To keep this post short, let's just say what looks great on a 2.5" LCD does not look the same on a 14" laptop screen. I emailed my model and asked if we could shoot again.
Fast forward to late October; same location, same model, same photographer. But not really. I was shooting a nude set, another homework assignment. Though slightly nervous about shooting someone I actually knew naked, besides that, everything was great. I adjusted shutter speed and aperture like an almost-pro. ISO? No problem. White balance? Pshhhh! On it.
In a flash (not literally, though), I realized just how much I had learned in less than 2 months, and that was my Perfect Moment.
The first week of September I had my first photography assignment, and suffice it to say, I was nervous as hell. I still didn't know diddly about f-stops, shutter speed, ISOs, lighting, and so on. The instructions were to 'create a photograph in the style of' a photo of our choice, a photo snapped by photographers who had more experience in the tip of their clicking index finger than I had in my whole body. We were not supposed to recreate the photo per se, and this proved to be much easier said than done. The day of the shoot, we went up to the roof and I tried to figure out how to get the same lighting as my chosen photograph. Did I mention I don't know jack about lighting? Yeah. I felt uncomfortable and out of my element, and I kept apologizing for not knowing what I was doing and taking too long to do it. My model was awesome and helpful and patient, but my frustrations only grew as I continued to actually get some great shots - but nothing I could use for this assignment. After over 100 shots, I decided I had some I could work with, and called it a day.
To keep this post short, let's just say what looks great on a 2.5" LCD does not look the same on a 14" laptop screen. I emailed my model and asked if we could shoot again.
Fast forward to late October; same location, same model, same photographer. But not really. I was shooting a nude set, another homework assignment. Though slightly nervous about shooting someone I actually knew naked, besides that, everything was great. I adjusted shutter speed and aperture like an almost-pro. ISO? No problem. White balance? Pshhhh! On it.
In a flash (not literally, though), I realized just how much I had learned in less than 2 months, and that was my Perfect Moment.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
(RAW) Shit Happens
I walked into the house and glanced at my laptop sitting on the kitchen table. My camera was connected and I could see what had been uploaded. I leaned in to read the dialog box that had popped up on the screen.
"Noooooooooo!!" I shouted.
"What happened!" my mom exclaimed from inside. My mom always thinks something disastrous has happened. Then again, I had just let out a blood-curdling scream.
"I shot all those photos today in a format my computer can't upload!!"
"And why would you do that?" My mother's response came much calmer now. A little too matter-of-fact.
I slammed my palm into the door once (ok, maybe twice) but that hurt too much, so I kicked it for good measure. "Because that's what the professor said to do!!"
I huffed and puffed some more as a thousand other thoughts went through my head. I had been shooting all day, all damn day. The project is due in a few weeks; considering it's to be handed in in book form, and the book takes 7-10 business days to be printed and delivered, that meant I had to have everything shot, edited and finalized by Monday in order to make the due date. As in, two very short days from now. I had spent on-and-off parts of today stressed because I was down to the wire; I was getting great shots but the quality of many wasn't coming out to my satisfaction. I couldn't wait to get home and see them on the computer to judge once and for all if they were usable. In the meantime, I was beating myself up about why I couldn't perfect what I was doing and why I hadn't learned everything I needed to know about the vast world of photography in 3 whole months. I berated myself for procrastinating on not getting the bulk of the project done until now.
I walked to my room to get something and of course, slammed my hand into the door frame, this time by accident. "Aaaaaaaargh!!!" It was a guttural sound, not a high-pitched one; one I really put all my feeling into.
"What happened?"
"I slammed my frickin' hand into the wall, and it hurts!" You know how when it rains it pours? I felt like I should brace myself for the coming storm.
I was fuming. "Fuck this project, fuck this class, fuck my life!", I thought. I thudded back to the kitchen, knowing I was overreacting at this point, but I just couldn't help it. My schedule was completely ruined; so much for "edit tonight, shoot and edit Sunday and finalize by Monday". I had been so excited to get home and get started, to get thismuchcloser to finishing this project so I could clear my calendar for the other final project I had to hand in. I had some photos I was really excited about seeing that I couldn't even get off my camera to look at, let alone work on. It was frustrating and annoying and and and.
All of a sudden the great day I had spent with my mom, hanging out in the city and photographing, all went to crap. And as soon as I thought that, reality hit. It was unfair and illogical to throw away the goodness of a whole day just because something bad had happened. I thought to myself, "If you hadn't left most of the work to the last minute, you wouldn't be so stressed out right now. You would have more time to shoot and more time to figure out a way to get the photos off your camera. It's very easy to blame the professor for his suggestion, but it's really not his fault this happened and you know it. Maybe you should step up and take some responsibility for this mess instead of blaming everybody and everything else."
Then I wondered if God or the powers-that-be had been chuckling all day while I shot in RAW instead of JPEG, knowing full well what was gonna happen when I got home. I imagined a bunch of Powers sitting around in a living room of some sort, somewhere in the sky above me, doubled over in laughter and pointing down at me. Then I thought about how odd and self-centered it was to think that; I'm sure that God or the powers-that-be had way better things to do than worry about what file format I was shooting in. That realization further brought home the fact that maybe, just maybe I was taking things a bit too far.
I've been trying to teach myself that life is not only about what happens to you, but how you handle what happens. Just as easily as I had a mini-meltdown, I could have figured out constructive ways to get myself out of the problem. So I googled my dilemma and followed the suggestions my favorite search engine came up with, still upset but much calmer. I'll have you all know; still no photos. Tomorrow, I will look for more solutions. I will also go out and shoot some more, this time not in RAW.
I walked into the living room to get my camera charger.
"Did you get them?" my mom asked.
"Nope."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Figure out a way to do it without freaking out." I couldn't help but kind of smile as I said it.
"Noooooooooo!!" I shouted.
"What happened!" my mom exclaimed from inside. My mom always thinks something disastrous has happened. Then again, I had just let out a blood-curdling scream.
"I shot all those photos today in a format my computer can't upload!!"
"And why would you do that?" My mother's response came much calmer now. A little too matter-of-fact.
I slammed my palm into the door once (ok, maybe twice) but that hurt too much, so I kicked it for good measure. "Because that's what the professor said to do!!"
I huffed and puffed some more as a thousand other thoughts went through my head. I had been shooting all day, all damn day. The project is due in a few weeks; considering it's to be handed in in book form, and the book takes 7-10 business days to be printed and delivered, that meant I had to have everything shot, edited and finalized by Monday in order to make the due date. As in, two very short days from now. I had spent on-and-off parts of today stressed because I was down to the wire; I was getting great shots but the quality of many wasn't coming out to my satisfaction. I couldn't wait to get home and see them on the computer to judge once and for all if they were usable. In the meantime, I was beating myself up about why I couldn't perfect what I was doing and why I hadn't learned everything I needed to know about the vast world of photography in 3 whole months. I berated myself for procrastinating on not getting the bulk of the project done until now.
I walked to my room to get something and of course, slammed my hand into the door frame, this time by accident. "Aaaaaaaargh!!!" It was a guttural sound, not a high-pitched one; one I really put all my feeling into.
"What happened?"
"I slammed my frickin' hand into the wall, and it hurts!" You know how when it rains it pours? I felt like I should brace myself for the coming storm.
I was fuming. "Fuck this project, fuck this class, fuck my life!", I thought. I thudded back to the kitchen, knowing I was overreacting at this point, but I just couldn't help it. My schedule was completely ruined; so much for "edit tonight, shoot and edit Sunday and finalize by Monday". I had been so excited to get home and get started, to get thismuchcloser to finishing this project so I could clear my calendar for the other final project I had to hand in. I had some photos I was really excited about seeing that I couldn't even get off my camera to look at, let alone work on. It was frustrating and annoying and and and.
All of a sudden the great day I had spent with my mom, hanging out in the city and photographing, all went to crap. And as soon as I thought that, reality hit. It was unfair and illogical to throw away the goodness of a whole day just because something bad had happened. I thought to myself, "If you hadn't left most of the work to the last minute, you wouldn't be so stressed out right now. You would have more time to shoot and more time to figure out a way to get the photos off your camera. It's very easy to blame the professor for his suggestion, but it's really not his fault this happened and you know it. Maybe you should step up and take some responsibility for this mess instead of blaming everybody and everything else."
Then I wondered if God or the powers-that-be had been chuckling all day while I shot in RAW instead of JPEG, knowing full well what was gonna happen when I got home. I imagined a bunch of Powers sitting around in a living room of some sort, somewhere in the sky above me, doubled over in laughter and pointing down at me. Then I thought about how odd and self-centered it was to think that; I'm sure that God or the powers-that-be had way better things to do than worry about what file format I was shooting in. That realization further brought home the fact that maybe, just maybe I was taking things a bit too far.
I've been trying to teach myself that life is not only about what happens to you, but how you handle what happens. Just as easily as I had a mini-meltdown, I could have figured out constructive ways to get myself out of the problem. So I googled my dilemma and followed the suggestions my favorite search engine came up with, still upset but much calmer. I'll have you all know; still no photos. Tomorrow, I will look for more solutions. I will also go out and shoot some more, this time not in RAW.
I walked into the living room to get my camera charger.
"Did you get them?" my mom asked.
"Nope."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Figure out a way to do it without freaking out." I couldn't help but kind of smile as I said it.
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