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.
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