Teleporting, Why is it not a Verb?

It just has to be possible. there has to be a way. if nothing is made of solid mass and we’re just a bunch of little atoms floating really really, really close together to form some kind of mass. there has to be a way to either make you “un mass”.

Dec 8

I am a firm believer that the beat of your own drum is  way fuckin’ better than the music everyone else is listening to.

Dec 4

Christians are activists for other Christians. They are the most Xenophobe, or “self-loving”. They are not politically, socially, or environmentally aware. They do not save animals or trees. They don’t promote recycling. They do not preach equal rights.

This House

I find myself now very excited about moving I realize today that it’s sad in a way, packing up (crying). I am excited because it’s an opportunity to start fresh, somewhere new, somewhere where we make our decisions more comfortable. We make them with more knowledge and experience. We get to think about what’s best for us, not everyone around us. And I don’t mean that in a selfish way, I mean it in a more evolutionary way, to think about self-preservation and self-fulfilment as opposed to slowing one’s self-improvement of one oneself at the detriment of one’s personal advancement.

  

I’m excited about starting over somewhere (sorry!) English, where I’m charming, witty, and comfortable, where I don’t have to stutter searching  for my words, and my jokes aren’t lost. I can go to the corner store and talk to the lady every day. The potential of either actually making a life for myself there, the life I want, or this being a stepping stone to something bigger, better ,and different is refreshing. A little step in opening my mind up to new possibilities. All this is exciting.

Today as I pack up paintings and pictures and random things, I come across objects that remind me of SOMETHING and walking away from all that to jump into something I’m  completely unaware of is just scary and frightening and very heartbreaking at the same time. I come across things that I put away here, for another day, and I was going to do them, and this was going to be for that. I realize I spend so much time doing that, a lot of time and energy and effort and care on this house. This house I don’t even like in this neighbourhood I’ve come to despise in a city I hate. It’s this crooked, uneven, mystifying house, and yet when I think of what it was when I came here and what it is now, I can’t help but feel something because it is ours. And I rarely referred to it as home, for the last 5 years it is where my heart and my life with Vince have been.

I’m still excited and optimistic but today is the first day I am saddened to leave this behind.

Prelude to Aug 17

Today right now I’m very optimistic about moving, I’m actually not hoping, because that’s extreme, but I’m asking the universe to allow everything to happen to facilitate that.

I realise it would be a fresh start a chance to completely start over somewhere different, with a new set of responsibilities and priorities, a new outlook and understanding. To start a life which depends solely on our efforts and opinions, and doubt and criticism have hopefully vanished. I’m optimistic and somewhat confident. I am open to living as simply, easily, and not taking anything for granted-ly. I will try to not accept more than I earned or ask for more than I deserve and allow myself to be happy because I don’t owe anyone anything. That would be really nice.

I’m hoping the stars align for me and Vince and we can finally do something on which we see eye to eye and  is a choice made by both of us. I’m honestly asking that everything goes through in a way that is fair and allows us to do this comfortably. 

The Move

 On Friday Vince got offered a job in Belleville.

Although I really don’t want to move somewhere that small, somewhere that’s not the city (which I've been dying to move back to), for two people who have complained for so long about their situation and being stuck and all the other things we’ve complained about, this is a really, really, really, really good opportunity. It is an opportunity to start over, to start fresh; to start things and do them the way we want to, at the pace we want to, at the everything we want, instead of the way everyone else wants or is said to be "normal".

We don’t like being here; it’s an amalgamation of other people’s desires wishes advice opinion and not really our own. It would by hypocritical to say we want to leave so much and finally get the change and not go anywhere. It is a chance to do things on our own time on our own terms. To make a name for ourselves. To make friends based on preference and having common ground and common interest rather than geography and kindergarten. It will be a big change, but hopefully one that will lead us to some answers because we clearly haven’t found some yet.

Sometimes the most educated are the most ignorant, and I am basing this on what they have been taught.

Sometimes an Ivy League education can mean being intructed by some of the most closed-minded people. People whose views are slanted,  who make the rich, god-fearing, white man the hero of every story. There has to be not only the awareness that everything you are taught is not necessarily fact but sometimes what is being preached is only one person’s opinion. 

You have to possess the audacity to question, the courage to speak out, the respect to understand, the clarity to understand it all. And then find the wisdom to make that distinction between fact and belief.

It's been a week since I started exercising and today Vince said "It really shows today, your skin looks better, you seem happier, you look like you feel better in general."

Just do it...

"Failing to do right is just as much sin as doing wrong."

-Billy Graham, The Journey

Walking Makes it Better

Today I decided to participate in a walk-o-thon.

This is the first charitable thing I do as an adult. Well, I give money when I see the tables in the mall, or when kids come and ring on the bell, but I myself have never participated physically in anyhting before. My goal was to raise a tiny sum of 200$ and walk 10km. The proceeds will mostly go to a maternity hospital in Armenia and a part will go to Foundation of Stars children's health research.

Admitting Defeat

People with no balance should not stand on one foot, leaning against a non-stationary object.

I came to this conclusion while waxing my legs in the kitchen. I was standing on my left foot, with the right one up on an upside-down 3 gallon bucket. As I was talking to Margo and not really paying attention to what I was doing, I failed to notice that every time I moved, the bucket slid along the floor. Granted it was only a few millimeters at a time, but it was still enough to sporadically cause me to lose balance. When I uttered that statement, loudly (mostly to myself as an observation) she first looked at me confused, but upon noticing my stance, she laughed out loud and said "nice one, I’ll remember that."

This may sound crazy to you, but that one sentence, that small observation led to a bigger truth: We all know our limitations, yet we never accept them. We know we shouldn't do something, or that we can't (are incapable of) do said thing, but we still try. Perhaps it's to prove something to ourselves or to someone else. Maybe we do it to show off. Maybe we just forgot we couldn't. The point is that we try, even as we know we shouldn't. We push ourselves, knowing that we are causing harm. We persevere, sometimes unnecessarily, and end up disappointed or discouraged.

We then blame ourselves; we question our abilities, our decisions. We try to think of what we will do next time to succeed, all the while not stopping to think that maybe we weren't meant to succeed at this particular thing. We fail to realize that we do not have to be the best at everything, or able to do all that others do. And why do we do this? Simple: we are incapable of admitting defeat. 

If we accept our shortcomings and thereby accept defeat (so to speak), accept that we cannot do everything, we will grow to understand and respect our limitations. By doing so, we can stop wasting our time and energy trying to be perfect.

Religion and Shame

In response to the church's question of how to get the youth involved:

You cannot preach marriage and abstinence to a generation that has no shame.

You Are What You Think

It’s all mind over matter.

If you think good and feel good, you’ll be good.

It’s mathematics and logic.

That’s all there is to it.

Think good thoughts and do good things, you’ll undoubtedly feel good about yourself.

If you feel shitty about yourself and others, you'll keep feeling shitty and be unable to snap out of it.

 If you feel depressed, sick, or lonely, just take a deep breath, relax, and calm down.

Tell yourself you’re good and everything will be good and settle into place.

Birthday Cake for Three

 Two days ago I got an email. It said “second reminder for dédé’s birthday”. I made a note to remove the date from my list as to not be reminded every year how sad I was about to become. March 27 is also mom’s birthday and every year, I cannot help but get sad on that one day. This year is not only is it the first double whammy, but dédé’s loss is still fresh and the wounds have not fully healed. It’s normal to become overwhelmed. I realize you just have to hold your head up high, and walk forward looking the world in the face. I find it to be the only way to stay strong enough. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve or to heal. You just keep doing what you’re doing until one day it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. The important thing is to figure out what you’re going do to not let it make you sad anymore.

So this afternoon, I baked a birthday cake. I looked at old pictures and I tried to recall as many birthdays as I could. I began thinking of my favourite anecdotes; the ones that made me laugh the hardest or smile the biggest. I remembered things that irritated, elated, angered and saddened me the most about them. I thought what I was the most proud of them for and what I respected most about them.  I was bewildered at how much my memories differed from other peoples’ stories.  I find it ridiculous how after someone dies everyone talks about their “accomplishments”, listing them like title in a bibliography. Or they summarize the person’s life like a book report: born here, educated there, married such and such, had this many kids/grandkids, worked hard, owned this and that, died on this day. 

What should be spoken about (and what we should focus on) is moral fibre and character. Interaction with others and contributions to the community should be paramount, not the number of years one consistently held the same job. Behaviour towards loved ones and more importantly actions towards those we don’t particularly care for should weigh more that the amount of money one earned, saved, or spent. We should be judged based on the good we did for all (society, mankind), not just ourselves (household- or more broadly our family and friends).  We should be remembered for smiles caused, hands held, shoulders leaned on, compassion extended. Remembered not for the favours we were asked to carry out, but the kindness we offered with no expectation of accolades, retribution or recognition.

Today is doubly difficult because I’m missing both of them, two of the people who loved and understood me the most. A million memories flooded my mind and I was overcome with emotion. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized it shouldn’t be hard. I suppose it is understandable TODAY, but there’s no use getting sad on the day of their birth… without it, I would have not had the pleasure of meeting, knowing and loving either of them.  So I decided today, on my grandfather’s 83^rd and mother’s 54^th birthday, I am going to become more like them: loving, honest, fair, helpful, compassionate, involved, and respected. I am going to think of what they hoped for me and remind myself of the qualities they possessed. As a present to the two people I miss the most, I will try from this day forward to live a life that makes them both proud.

Coincidences and Superstition

Tonight, I took a bath. A nice, long, hot, invigorating oatmeal and sea salt bath.I reclined, hands folded behind my head, until the water touched my ears, my face barely protruding out of the bubbles. It felt nice. For the first time is weeks, I felt somewhat relaxed.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the cinnamon, orange and rosemary scented steam that surrounded me. I Wanted To Feel This Good All The Time. I wanted to be more relaxed. I wanted to recreate this feeling at all times, to be as contented as possible always. Trouble is I didn’t know how, or what I wanted or needed to be happier. Like  Kundera said :We can never know what to want because living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.I began to question myself, and then I stopped. I remembered how nice it felt to feel good a few seconds ago and decided I wanted to feel that good all the time. I pretended I was in the sea, floating on a hammock, the warm waves splashing me.   I breathed… deeply… deeper still.  I visualized, I imagined, I wished. I exhaled… I smiled… I unclenched.  For the first time, I found my inner calm. 

I decided to be more open-minded, more aware of what was happening around me. I resolved to be alert to the little signs that the universe kept sending me and act on them. I continued breathing, enjoying the moment, trying not to think of anything other than the ocean. I stayed as still as I could, breathing slowly, steadily, and tried to focus only on the warm water. I thought of how nice it felt against my skin, how comfortable and at peace I felt. Then, it dawned on me. I wanted to be free. Not free of anyone/thing in particular, but free of stress, free of debt, of obligation, of distress. Free of worry. I had to focus. 

When I came down in my pink fuzzy monkey robe, I felt refreshed and enlightened. I grabbed a meditation book, eager to read it and put into practice all I learned.  I glanced at the clock:  11:11.  I made a wish.  I wished that tomorrow will be better than today.  No! I exlaimed, out loud to no one, and wished every “day after” be better than the current one, for me and everyone who is important to me. 

It’s not that I’m superstitious; it’s just that every action has a reaction.  I have no reason to pass up the opportunity to make a wish in the hopes that it may come true. Call in what you want: Karma (cause and effect), reciprocity (The Golden Rule), “good vibes”, even wishful thinking, it doesn’t matter. You only get what you put forth right? I needed to figure out how to act in order to set forth the biological-chemical-consequential/-cosmological-chain reaction necessary to live freely. Once the baby steps have been figured out, I can begin moving forward in the right direction. 

And now even as I write this I realize my wish was not good enough. It was selfish... I wish better days forevermore for everyone, even those who don’t wish it upon themselves.

Bite Marks

I had a great childhood. I really cannot complain. My parents were happy, and in love, and completely selfless. I was an angel when I was young. Ask anyone. Ok, so I threw an occasional tantrum (read: threw things around the house and broke them out of spite, stomped around and slammed doors), was a pro at hissy fits, and questioned any decision my parents made. I was smart though. I pretty much got anything I wanted by convincing people then WANTED me to have said thing. I was a sweet, well-behaved child. I know this because I have an excellent memory. Elephants have nothing on me. I remember things that happened when I was as young as 1 ½ years old. I can vividly recount many instances from my childhood, and often I remind my family of things they had long forgotten.

That was until my parents told me they were having another baby. I had just turned 2 and discovered my new favourite sentences “I said no!” and “Because I said so.” When I did the math, I realized that this baby would need taking care of and my mom would not be at my beck and call anymore. I would not have it. I was MAD. I spent my days trying to figure out new ways to piss my parents off, with the hopes that they would decide they hate kids, return my unborn sibling to the doctor (I was 2, I did not know how babies were made), and spend every ounce of energy they had fawning over me. When I realized all this accomplished was being sent to my room to play alone, while I heard my parents laughing in the next room, I decided to change my game plan. From that second, I loved that baby. I wanted a sister. I wanted her to have brown hair and green eyes, and I was going to name her Taline. I was going to give her all my dolls in a cheap attempt to force my parents into buying me new ones. I was going to play with her every waking minute and sing her lullabies in the evenings. I was going to exhaust her so that after dinner, she would fall asleep and I could once again regain my rightful spot as the centre of my parents’ attention. I sat all my dolls and stuffed animals round me and went over the finer points of my strategy. It was a brilliant plan, and I would be triumphant.

Then the unimaginable happened. I was minding my own business, playing quietly in my room, when my dad ran into my room, grabbed my little teal suitcase, put a few dolls, my Bugs Bunny storybook, and my pyjamas in it and told me I had to go to my grandparents’ house. He explained that mommy and daddy had to go see the doctor to see if the baby was ready to come home. I reluctantly sat in the car, not making a sound, as my parents dropped me off and waved good-bye. This meant war. This baby was already monopolising my parents’ time and it was not even born yet. I was a complete brat at my grandparents’ house, in hopes they would call and beg my parents to take me home. Thing shortly worsened. Around 9 at night, my grandmother came to wake me up. My dad was on the phone, he wanted to talk to me. I sleepily said hello and he exclaimed “You are a big sister now, Kareene. Now go back to bed, tomorrow, you get your very own baby brother. I love you.” Excuse me? I do not think so. I specifically asked for a sister. Did no one listen? I pulled the covers over my head and vowed to get my revenge.

The next morning, my dad came to pick me and my grandmother up so we could go to the hospital. My grandma says I took about 2 hours to get out of bed, brush my teeth, get dressed, and have my breakfast. Apparently, she had told me to hurry up because my dad was in a rush, and I kept saying it was OK if they left without me. We went to the hospital and I was happy to see my mom, but I was mad at her, so I barely spoke to her. When she told my grandma about the pain and whatnot, I told her that was what happened when you decided to have babies. Then a nurse brought in this tiny pink blob wrapped in a blanket and handed it to my dad. My parents sat me down in a chair and introduced me to my brother, Patrick. My dad held the tiny blob and asked if I wanted to touch it. I said no. He asked if I wanted to kiss it. I said no. My mom finally told me that my job as a big sister was to protect and take care of the blob. To make them stop harassing me, I sat down and let my dad put the blob in my lap. As I held this tiny, blotchy thing in my arms, it opened its eyes and looked at me. At that second, I became a big sister. A proud big sister. I figured since I could not win, I might as well make him the best baby brother in the world.

A few weeks later, my parents made the wise decision to send me to nursery school. I was not pleased. Not only would I not get to supervise Pat, but he would be at home, all day, with my mom. It was now nearing the end of October and I was “the new kid”. I did not know any of the other kids, but the teacher was our neighbour Jenny, and therefore I was not all that miserable. I misbehaved the first few days, until I found out that when it was someone’s birthday, their mom made cupcakes. If there was one thing I loved more that getting what I want, it was cupcakes. It still IS cupcakes. Mmmm, cupcakes. Moving on… So about a week and 6 cupcakes later, it was show and tell. Having never participated in “show and tell” I was curious. I sat quietly listening to all the kids go on and on about their stupid dinosaurs, their vacation pictures, even their sombreros (come on, seriously, who is infatuated with sombreros?) What they were showing, I had no interest in seeing. What they were telling was ear pollution. I announced that I had something that was better than all their things and I would show them next time. It was a surprise, I was not telling anyone, not even Jenny, what was in store.

Lo and behold, two weeks later, I showed up at nursery school with a huge smile on my face. We had our snacks and as soon as we sat down for show and tell, I told Jenny I needed to go first. I stood up empty-handed, in front of all the other kids, with my pigtails and a huge smile and began talking. I have a knack for the dramatic. I told them that what I was going to show them, no one else had. I called in my mom and then said “I want to show you my baby brother, Patrick.” My point was to list all the negative things about him, I started by saying that he cried a lot, he could not play or talk, he pooped his pants all the time and did nothing but lay there all day. When all the kids started oohing and aahing, though, I had to change my game plan. I had dome my research, and found out that 3 people had baby sisters, one girl was a twin (whose brother went to school from 1-3 as opposed to 9-12 like us), but no one had a baby brother. No one had even seen a baby brother. I went on and on about how great he was, how he laughed at the silliest things, how he never told anyone your secrets, how he was amazed at a piece of string I dangled in front of him. This was great. I was once again where I belonged…as the centre of attention.

I now love Pat more than anything in the world, even my Strawberry Shortcake dress I wore for my birthday. I change his diaper, bathe him, feed him, entertain him, rock him, and burp him. No one can touch him without my permission. Fast forward a few months. My brother now sleeps in his crib, in his own room. I am not allowed in the crib, because I am a “big girl now”. Since his birth, I have a habit of snatching his pacifier and putting it in my mouth. I still have a habit of forgetting how to go to the bathroom. I do not want to be a big girl, I want to be a baby so I can be coddled and cuddled. Every morning, while my parents are still sleeping, I climb into his crib and read him the same two stories: “The Monster at the end of This Book” and “Cookie Monster and the Cookie Tree.” I sing along with the witch, and Pat laughs. This morning however, he was fussy and did not laugh. I was not amused. I kept singing and singing and waiting for him to laugh, but he did not. He whimpered instead. I asked him to stop crying, but he did not. I knew that if my parents came in the room and found me in the crib, I was in big trouble. I asked him again to stop. I turned on his mobile, which only scares him and made him begin to cry. Not knowing what to do to make him stop, I did the only logical thing…I BIT his tiny finger. I wanted this infant to stop crying, so I bit him and made his finger bleed. I wanted to hurt him so he would understand that I was serious. What does that say about my character? He let out the loudest scream imaginable, and at the same time, I began sobbing hysterically. Until this point, he was just a baby, he did not have feelings. That second, my heart broke. I knowingly hurt him. My mother rushed in, found us both in the crib, weeping.

I tried to explain, but I was so upset, I choked on my words and cried even louder. I was holding his tiny finger in my hand and begging forgiveness. My father ran in at this point, and asked what was going on. I explained and apologized and kept saying how much I loved him. I was sent to my room. Minutes later my parents came in and seeing the horrified look on my face told me that I was not going to be punished because they thought I felt bad enough already. I spent every second of my life after that making sure he never hurt again. I cuddled and coddled him. I loved him and hugged him so tight, my mom often had to pull me off him. To this day, I get choked up when I think about it. It is perhaps the only thing I regret in my whole life. Neither Pat nor my father remember this story, and they often tease me about it. I do not think they understand how badly scarred I am because of my actions. I hurt a helpless child to make him do what I wanted. And I felt remorse. That was the day I grew a conscience.

The moral of this story is that little brothers will often hold things over your head that they do not even remember, just to make you feel like crap.

Pedicures = Happiness

The world we live in sucks. Now do not misunderstand, life is beautiful. The opportunity to breathe, to learn, to taste, to explore, to conquer, and to discover is marvellous. It is a privilege that no one should take for granted. Unfortunately, that is more than often not the case. We overexert ourselves planning the details, crunching the numbers, rushing to get things done, comparing ourselves with others. We focus solely on the destination while forgetting to enjoy the journey. Everyone is so busy running around trying to be the best, the greatest, the quickest, the first. Most of the time we make ourselves sick with stress. We have free will and everything we do, we do willingly. We create obligations for ourselves and strain ourselves to fulfil our “duty”.

  

When I feel a little down, I’ve noticed that a quick coat of pink nail polish or even 10 minutes in a tanning bed can really make it worth having gotten out of bed that morning. However silly this may sound, these simple pleasures make me smile. I smile enough to realize that it’s not that bad, or I’m not as upset as I thought. I think level-headedly about what was bothering me to begin with. If something is causing discomfort, I try to distance myself.  If I have a rift with someone, I try to talk to them and try to reach an understanding. If I’m unhappy with what I’m doing, I try to think of what I want instead.  I tend to surround myself with the people I am the most comfortable around. I get really into arts and crafts, because it is my favourite pastime.

I don’t always manage to correct the situation, but I always realize something about myself.  In trying to cope with a situation, I sometimes remember or rediscover the people and things I enjoy the most. I think about what I want to fix about my character or my situation, and how to amend it. I don’t always succeed but it helps me to appreciate myself.  However, I am sometimes shocked at my own behaviour and these are the revelations which yield the most perspective. Before I calm down enough to think, though, I am extremely hard on myself. I am critical, I doubt and question, I curse. I think and I cry and I sulk until I realize nobody is perfect, neither am I.

We cannot be perfect yet our goal is to attain perfection. By understanding it does not exist, and equating perfection with “freedom from discomfort and struggle” we are able to find what we need to be happy and have a “perfect life” free of strain. We need to think of what we REALLY want instead of what we don’t have.  If we focus on the positive (what we excel at, what makes us content, what we have earned) instead of the negative (what we failed at, what we lost, what upsets us) we will ultimately head down the right track. By changing our perspective we will be more open to possibilities and opportunities. We will notice coincidences and attract like-mindedness. By thinking of only the negative, we only torture ourselves, creating more and more negative thoughts. The power to change is ours. If we’re unhappy with something (our relationship or a friendship, our job, social life, etc…) it is because we do not want to be in that situation.

If we’re unhappy with something regarding our partner or friend, we need to talk to them. If we are honest and discuss our concerns and the outcome still does not satisfy us, we have a choice. End it. If something we are doing is making us unhappy, we need to just stop doing it. It’s simple: meet new people, get a new job, do new things. Find a hobby, take a class, join a group, or volunteer... anything. DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO BE DOING.  The goal do something DIFFERENT since obviously “the usual” doesn’t seem to be working. If we’re unhappy, it’s no one’s doing but our own. Whatever makes us sad, we have to replace it, basically. We need to try different things not giving heed to other people’s criticism, or popular beliefs; follow our instincts despite others’ advice; keep our eyes open for opportunity. We must think, but not over-analyze, find time to enjoy ourselves and give in to (harmless) guilty pleasures sporadically. 

Pink Floyd and Inaction

“And then one day you find ten years have got behind you. No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.”

                                                                                                      -   Time by Pink Floyd

There are many ways to get from point A to point B. I know this is cliché, but often times getting there isn’t as important and HOW you arrived. If you are constantly looking for shortcuts or easy ways out, you only cheat yourself out of enjoying what is around you. Every wrong turn you take will only cause frustration and anxiety. If you take the straight road, the one already mapped out you will never undergo anything for yourself. You’ll encounter many people along the way and all their stories will be almost identical to yours, rarely discovering anything new. The people behind you will have seen exactly what you just saw. The people ahead can only tell you what’s in store.

If you opt to take the scenic route, it may take you longer to reach your destination, but you will witness a myriad of events along the way. You will cross paths with many people who all have a different story to tell. Their tales will encourage you, their trials will enlighten you.  You will live through a diversity of experiences, each of them helping you discover, little by little, the person you are destined to become.

These last few months, as my birthday nears, the above lyrics began to ring truer. My dad said that when his mother knew she was dying, she related to and appreciated this song.  The more I listened to it, the more I feared “un-change”.  I have been wasting time, I feel, doing what I was “supposed” to, rather than what I wanted.  It seems every time I made a plan or set a goal, the universe put every obstacle imaginable in my way. I would think, plan, research, discuss, experiment, and always, to no avail. I was always disappointed, often discouraged, and sometimes found it hard to want to attempt anything again. I had tried everything, new ideas, new goals, new timeframes, new methods, new perspective, and even new priorities. Nothing worked. I needed to find a better way to live and think, to decide and cope… A better understanding.

 I thought of Taoist theory of inaction, then the Buddhist theory of interdependent arising, the laws of science and forces of nature. I even considered the Christian theory of "God's plan, or destiny", the occult, mysticism, things being written in the stars. I soon realized the only thing I never did was just "let things happen". I don’t mean sitting on my ass all day waiting for everything to fall into my lap, I just mean trying to go with the flow a little more. Stop putting all my hope into what will happen EVENTUALLY, and instead focusing on right now. I must allow things to happen the way they are meant to instead of how I want them to happen. I don’t want to waste anymore time planning when I can be doing instead.                                                                                     

6 Months, and counting

In 180 days, I turn 30. 

This seems to have kicked the hamster into overdrive, because my mind has been racing for weeks. Aside from often keeping me up all night, my hamster is also forcing some perspective onto me. The quicker the wheel spins, the more questions arise and the longer I stay awake, the more theories are borne. I over-analyse and self-reflect and sometimes I am hit with some tough realizations and truths. Sometimes, I claim to have epiphanies.  I have learned it is to take the good along with the bad. I have a great life. AND I have someone to share it with. Someone who loves me and accepts me the way I am, with all my quirks and faults (and trust me, there are plenty). I have someone who works his ass off in order to give me the chance to follow my dreams (or at least to figure out what they are), to find happiness. Not to say I am unhappy. I know a million people would give just about anything to be in my shoes. I know I am lucky. I just cannot shake the feeling that I am not meant to be here, now, doing this. 

I look at my 20s (or anyone’s 20s) as sort of a grace period during which the words “I’m young, I’m still learning” excuse almost anything.  I feel like 30 somehow became the finish line, the point in time by when everything should have fallen into place. I should be more focused, goal-oriented and settled. I should be thinking about a career and a family. Instead, most days, I find myself wanting these things less and less. I feel as though I have spent the last 10 years working hard at something that does not interest me. I worked at building the life that I "should" have, not the one I actually want.  I have been through a lot in my short life, and I know harder obstacles still lay ahead. Everything that has happened to me has helped me to become the person I am today. As I have said before, I have faults (impatience, temperament and selfishness to name a few) and quirks (I am insane, I nag until I get what I want, I argue for the hell of it) just like everyone else. I know what they are, and it does not bother me all that much. I am who I am.

   I have a huge problem. I have a hard time differentiating between what I       can change, and what is beyond my control. This becomes very frustrating for me. The more I tell myself to be less critical and more open-minded, the more ridiculous things happen in the world. The more I tell myself to be calm, the stupider things I hear. Everything is connected, and I somehow feel I am not doing enough to make this world a better place. If I could cure Malaria, I would. If I could feed the poor, I would. If I knew how to make my life better I would. I just feel useless sometimes, and it is often because of things that I have no power over.

I try to be hopeful, I really do. I try to see the silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel (for the record, I hate tunnels, I am claustrophobic and I go CRAZY), that tomorrow is another day and all those cliché adages we use to avoid dealing with what is going on. I believe that you can do whatever you want if you try hard enough. I believe that what you reap is what you sow. There is where the problem lies. I want to save the world yet at the same time, I hate everything about who we have become today. I figured I had to turn over a new leaf and try to be tolerant to everyone, not only those I deemed worthy. While I am trying my best to become more patient and accepting, humanity is making it harder and harder for me to show compassion. The harder I try to put my best foot forward, the more people make me want to punch them in the face.

The bottom line is that I want to become a better person. Not according to what society deems is “better”, but to really adhere to what I believe in. I want to show compassion and mean it. I want to help people without necessarily gaining anything by doing so. I want to be happy… really, really happy. I want to be accepting of others, even if their beliefs are different from mine. I want to treat people with kindness and empathy. I want to make people proud of me, not because they love me or have to be, but because I merited it. I want to be the kind of person he deserves to be with.

And my mission , for the next 6 months is to try piecing together all I have learned and lived through and finally understanding myself. Only then will I be able to be the best version of myself and begin living live to the best of my abilities. Only then will I see, clearly, what I expect out of life, what my role is, how I fit in to the larger picture.