"What do you want?" This seems like a simple enough question. We ask this question and are asked this question countless times every single day. Hardly an hour passes in which we don't answer some form of this question whether it's "What do I want to eat for lunch?" or "what do I feel like wearing today?" or "what do I want to do tonight?" But answering this general question is not always simple. When you're a child, you're constantly asked, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" And when you're a child you always seem to know the answer. Your future seems so clear. You think about what you'll be doing when you're twenty-five and you can pinpoint exactly what kind of job you'll have, the kind of husband you'll have, even the gender and names of your children (and of course, when you're little, twenty-five seems like an appropriate age at which to have your life, including these aspects all sorted).
So, I will be twenty-five this upcoming June and my life is hardly sorted out. The details of what elementary-school-aged Morrisa thought adult Morrisa would be are a little unclear in my memory, but I know that at one point I thought I wanted to be an archaeologist (until I realized I don't like digging around in the dirt), at another point I thought I'd be a famous actress (oh wait, I can't act, oops) and there were a range of other dream occupations in between like movie director, famous journalist, etc. But, fortunately, I can't complain about my job. Actually, it's sort of funny. Teaching is one of few occupations that I never considered. In fact, even up until a couple years ago, if someone had asked me if I would consider being a teacher my usual response was "hell no!" Granted, I never thought teaching adults was an option, and even at this point teaching children seems like an excruciating task.
But can I do this for the rest of my life? Something tells me that eventually I will lose motivation or grow tired of teaching. Being so close in age to my students makes teaching both fun and relatively easy. I can relate to and understand my students. Also, I was in their position not too long ago. I still remember what it was like to be a student and they know this.
The more important reason, however, behind why I can't do this job forever may sound strange, but it's jealousy. My students come and go over different lengths of time, but one constant factor always remains: every single one of them, at some point, will leave. They either go back to their countries or to college here in the States. Most go on to earn degrees using their English skills and find fantastic jobs after having a wonderful experience in America. But, when they leave I feel left behind. Of course I am incredibly proud of them and happy to see them do well, but I can't help but feel like this. I feel like this can't be the end of the road. I'd like to earn more money, I'd like to be an expert in something, I'd like to take the next step in my life path. I just don't feel finished yet. But what's next? Am I too old to ask myself the question: "What do I want to be when I grow up?"
I suppose I am not too old, but this question is a lot more terrifying now than when you're seven. I always thought that being twenty-five meant that you were grown up already. All I know is that I certainly don't feel like "an adult." Being "grown-up" sounds, to me, like someone who is finished. Kind of like a fancy meal that you put in the oven, set the timer and when that timer goes off it's completed, delicious, ready to serve, and exactly the way you had pictured it would be. But I know I'm not the only person my age, or older, who feels like there's a few ingredients still missing and cooking to be done left in their life. I just wish I had the recipe and could simply read the directions and know what the next step is. But, nothing is that simple. That's the beauty of it all, I suppose.
But what other "ingredients" are missing? Where's the husband, 2.5 kids, dog and white picket fence? Is that even something I want? I think young children in this country always just assume they'll grow up, get married, have kids and live a life similar to that of their parents. My parents were twenty-one when they got married, so clearly I'm already over-do for that. This did concern me for a while, particularly when, at twenty-three I went through a miserably painful breakup with a boy whom I thought I would marry some day. That was nearly two years ago now. Although I certainly realize that I'm probably the luckiest girl on the planet for having gained my freedom from this blood-sucking leech of a human being, I still can't help but be concerned about being alone for the rest of my life.
The strange part is, however, that lately (at least over the past few weeks) I've realized that I'm actually happy to be single. It's been almost two years since I had a boyfriend (despite having a couple of men in that period who I consider "almost boyfriends"), but for the first time in my life I actually feel independent and comfortable being single. Sure, having someone to spend romantic evenings with would be nice, but I'd rather spend time with friends. I think part of the reason behind this is that I've come to realize that wanting a boyfriend just for the sake of having a boyfriend is just silly and that when it comes down to it I have no idea what I want. I've made mistakes in the past and usually make poor choices when it comes to men and I know that this makes me weary when introduced to someone new now. I guess it all boils down to what I briefly mentioned in a previous blog: I just have a hard time connecting with people sometimes.
That connected feeling is the only thing I know I want in a man. I know I'm a complex person and have some unusual interests and tastes, but what I want is for somebody to at least try to understand me, or at least be interested in what I have to say. I'd have to be an idiot to think that I'll ever find somebody with exactly the same interests as myself, but I can be hopeful that I'll find someone close enough. Then again, if we had the exact same interests that would just be like dating myself and that's sort of strange. Nonetheless, this is one similarity I crave. But, the difficulty of this task is a bit daunting. The more dates I go on, the more aware I become of what I don't want in a man. Granted, finding what you do want via discovering the things that you don't want is one way of figuring it all out, but it feels like it's going to take forever. But, oh well. I'm really not in any rush. If a tall, blue-eyed, nicely built, talented, wealthy, intelligent, funny, cultured man who likes traveling, reading, philosophy and Bjork falls out of the sky and into my lap one day, I'll take him, but I'm not going to sit at my window waiting desperately. After all, I've got myself to take care of, the world to see and a future to experience.
I might not be able to make an exact list of the things I want in my life. Like everyone else, my life did not come with a set of instructions, and I don't know what the next step is, but for the first time ever I'm not really scared about that. As Scarlet O'Hara says in Gone with the Wind: "Tomorrow is another day!"
Monday, May 2, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Emotional Rollercoaster
Being young in the 21st century is no easy task. Sometimes, it is also inexplicable. For instance, today I am in an absolutely amazing mood. My classes went smoothly, the sneak-evaluation my boss gave me was excellent, I received praise from a veteran teacher who overheard one of my classes and specifically went to my boss to tell her about it (yes!), it's the second day in a row that it's not absolutely freezing, and also receiving positive feedback about this blog of mine made my day wonderful. I think the only thing that would make me happier would be sitting on the beach, sipping a tropical drink, being in the same physical shape I used to be in while wearing my bikini, and have a gorgeous, wealthy, intelligent guy sitting next to me. Okay, so that's multiple things. Actually, forget the guy; I feel so good I don't even need one of those.
But, I don't always feel this way. Nobody does. If they do, there's probably something wrong with them. If there's nothing wrong with them, then please, give me one of whatever they're on. Anyways, I was talking with my mom last night about being depressed, sad, down, blue, whatever you want to call it. Now, my mom is the type of woman who worries incessantly. Perhaps even obsessively. I love her dearly, but sometimes I need to remind her that it's impossible for my sister and I to be perfectly happy all the time and that even though it is difficult for her to see us unhappy, it is normal.
But has it always been normal? Obviously, being born in 1986, I have no clue what it was like to grow up in the '50s and '60s like my mom and dad. The only way I can judge the emotional climate of that generation is through music. Think about it. Have you ever heard a depressing Beatles song? If you have, it probably wasn't one of their greatest hits. What about all the other bands/artists from that time period? The do-wap and pop music certainly wasn't a downer. Even the rock music of that period never got very in touch with the darker side of the human psyche. Not any of the mainstream stuff, anyways. If songs weren't all sunshine and rainbows, they were rebellious. Bands like the Rolling Stones were what the non-conformist youngsters looked up to. With the arrival of the seventies they started to get a little sadder with songs like "Wild Horses," and "Angie," but again, I'm talking about my parents. They grew up with the Beatles and the Monkees, Mo-Town and what I like to generally call "happy pop."
Enter the '70s. The Stones started to write some sadder songs, Led Zeppelin came along, and a plethora of other amazing, sort of trippy, post-love-and-happines of the '60s hippie-ish, "I'm cool and bad ass and there's no questioning that," kind of music. This sort of mixed the rebellious with a little more of the sad aspect of life. Then, sometime around the horrible era of music occurring in the '80s called "hair-metal" ended, we saw something different. In my humble opinion (I by no means claim to be a music expert), The Cure's arrival on the music scene began the formation of a youth culture in which it was actually acceptable to be sad, at least sometimes. With his black clothes, eyeliner, dirty appearance, weird hair and quirky lyrics, Robert Smith became an idol for angst-ridden, edgy, rebellious, overall "cool" teens and 20-somethings. The thing I find so funny about The Cure is that while Smith's appearance seems so dark, and some of the lyrics are a bit eerie and certainly not fun and games, the general sound of the music is still pretty light and easy to listen to. But the message was different. That message, more or less, was it's okay not to be the same as everyone else, but you also don't necessarily have to be a rebel in order to do that.
Now, here's me: child of the '90s. I was seven years old when Kurt Cobain died and was therefore just missed out on experiencing the Grunge era completely first hand. When Kurt shot himself in 1993, I was probably watching Sesame Street or Barney. But, sometime around middle school I started listening to Nirvana and man was I the cooooolest. But let's think about this. Was Kurt Cobain really "cool" in the way we think of cool? With his shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair, scruffy beard, beat-up jeans and messy-looking sweaters bent over a guitar screeching lyrics, which if you can decipher, are pretty messed up sometimes, was he cool? Aside from "Smells Like Teen Spirit," which, awkwardly enough was played at almost every middle-school dance and was almost never completed because everyone present got too "rowdy," Nirvana's songs aren't super-rebellious and they certainly, especially Cobain, don't embody that sort of "tough-guy" image that former rock musicians did. Grunge rock, post-Grunge, and also Industrial rock are what I grew up listening to. Well, that stuff and a fair mix of 'Nsync and Britney Spears, but whatever; people have multiple emotions, I have well-rounded musical tastes. Don't judge.
Anyways, I have finally arrived at my main point. Around December I was extremely depressed. But, I hadn't gone through a break-up, hadn't lost a loved one, or any other kind of event that usually makes a person sad. I just was. I stayed in my room every night, drank a bottle of wine almost every night, slept almost constantly and mostly just didn't, or maybe couldn't, talk to anybody. Even my mom, who I have always been able to talk to about everything. I just didn't have the words. Being in this mood and also juggling dealing with a worried mother is not a fun thing to do. You're depressed, then you try to explain why, you become frustrated, because you're frustrated you can't get out of your bad mood and so on and on and on and on. One day I just needed to purge my mind of whatever was on it. I still didn't know, but I got a fine-tip Sharpie marker, some college-ruled paper and shut myself in my room. I started writing and didn't finish until I had hand-written seven full single-spaced pages. My hands hurt, I wasn't sure what I even said, but I felt a little bit better.
Today I found those seven pages. I don't know if what I wrote on that night back in December is any good, or makes any sense, but I'm also sure that I couldn't recreate it if I tried. Now, just to remind you, as I stated earlier, I am in a fantastic mood and definitely don't feel like this now. I just wanted to get it out there. I'm sure some people can relate. So, with no further ado, here it is:
I've had so many thoughts racing through my head since this afternoon that it's probably going to be pretty impossible to put them into any kind of logical order. Or remember all of them. I'm not sure why I ever put anything I think onto paper. It doesn't usually make me feel better, I never look at it later and don't ever, ever, ever show it to anyone. Half the time I just keep my feelings bottled up. I don't have a hard time telling stories about what has happened to make me feel the way I do, if there is a reason. But usually there isn't anything palpable or logically perceivable or identifiable that happened to make me feel the way I do. Sometimes I just feel depressed. Like hitting a wall. Sometimes it creeps in gradually and I don't even notice it. It's just there one day. No story, no explanation, or if there is one that I can possibly make literate or audible, it's not usually enough reason to spawn such depression. The catalyst can be something minute: having plans cancelled, hearing someone I dated once and had (or still do have) feelings for is dating someone else, etc. It doesn't matter. You can eliminate those feelings or reason your way out of them in myriad ways. So, per usual, I default to inaction: hide in my room, read other people's books, blogs, poems, song lyrics, etc. trying to find something I relate to. Tonight I was perusing my friend's blog and was as blown away by his ability to use words to portray such deep thoughts in a way that is poetic in such a way that you're simultaneously rapt in awe at someones capacity to write and also at the events that inspire them. I left Thailand because I was scared, alone, and miserable. I came back, hoping to return to friends (and maybe a lover) that I foolishly expected to be right there waiting for me. But now, just about seven months later, I think I might actually be more lonely than I ever have been in my entire life.
But lonely just doesn't cut it. If a rational person were dealing with feeling lonely they would want to talk to their friends, family, whoever. But I'm sick of talking. The endless ramblings of "How are you?" the stupid attempts at explaining away my answer, etc. But, "good, thanks," is all I say to everyone, not knowing if anyone actually cares how I'm doing or not. Another reason is that we all live in the shadows of what is considered polite behavior. Asking "How are you?" in this day and age doesn't actually mean anything more than a glance to acknowledge someone's presence does. And, isn't that the easiest way to exist? by just being polite? If you honestly answer "I'm 100% miserable, my day sucked, I'm tired both physically and mentally, I'm petrified of my future, haunted by my past and feel like I'm asphyxiating in my present. Try that on for size," the person would either give you the usual "everything will be okay," kind of speech, or "I know how you feel," or if they're really nice, one of those "you're an amazing person, everyone loves you," kind of speeches. Or they'll just be baffled and go on their way. Even if one person can, on some level, understand someone else's feelings or relate in some way, is it possible for anyone to really, truly feel the same? I mean, doesn't everyone see, feel, hear, understand, and experience things in a different way? How does that work anyways? Do people see the color blue the same way I do, never mind manage to feel lonely in a crowded room? Even when it's quiet I'm not capable of turning my brain off, and lately it hasn't been going in the best direction.
Twice in the last two or three days someone has mentioned suicide to me. Honestly, I've thought about it before but decided a long time ago it wasn't for me. I always told myself (and others, if they pried enough), that I was too afraid to do anything to hurt myself. Or too selfish. Given my self-depriving, all-giving, usually-makes-me-feel-happy kind of unselfishness that I've been experiencing lately, I don't think that's it. In fact, someone recently told me I should be more selfish. Something along the lines of "you do you." I've been thinking about that. I don't usually want to. Or do I? Is that the issue at hand? I'm not sure I even know how to not think about what others may feel or think about their situation, an awkward or possibly hurtful third party comment, or something I did or said recently or possibly on some long-gone, random Tuesday afternoon that I remember but they don't. It's tough not to think about that, especially when making others feel better about themselves makes me feel better. So, therefore, even being selfish would still not make me feel better because what I'd be making up for in the meantime would be lost in a self-inflicted guilt-trip.
Guilt, that's it. That ever-present something that I never seem to be able to escape. Maybe it's because I was technically born a Jew. Maybe it's because I've renounced my religion or any truly soul-felt religiosity as something unprovable and therefore non-existent and therefore not helpful. I've been curious for years about religion and different viewpoint about "God" or life or anything that maybe can or maybe will never be truly felt, seen or understood by anyone unable to, or unwilling to make the blind leap of faith involved in believing something like this.
But that's just it. I've been spending, at the very least, the last year or so of my life just waiting to be hit with some sort of religious revelation, some sort of sudden feeling of spirituality, enlightenment, understanding, peacefulness, or whatever you might expect to come from such an experience. But those things don't just happen.
So, here I am, stuck waiting to be hit by the train, but too afraid, or stupid, or polite, or uncomfortable, or guilt-ridden to jump in its path. Yes, that was a pretty good way to link taking a leap of faith and a reference to suicide all into one metaphor. At least I can do something right.
So, no fear, people. I'm not going to make a fuss and slit my writs or OD on pills or go through the hassle to actually hurt myself. It's not even out of laziness, or fear of death, it's more a lack of motivation, which is an ironic problem for someone who is craving a change so badly that it's all they can think about. But, it is fear that is holding me back. Fear of failing, being lonelier, more-so than I am now and having to turn back around, start over again, go through the miserably overwhelming sense of failure, confusion and disappointment in myself, from both my inner thoughts and the ones I assumed others thought about me. I'll never forget the expression of disappointment that one of my cousins expressed to me at a benign birthday party shortly after I got back from Thailand. It was so shocking, so rare to hear such brutal honesty from someone whom I was not that close with. But, at the same time, it was the closest thing to my own emotion I could sense. But how is living this way any way to live: trapped in boredom and loneliness but fearing change all at the same time?
The call to inaction is so strong right now that it's all I can do. Sure, my thoughts are racing, doing mental laps around my skull, doing jumping-jacks, whatever. It's never quiet. I can't be by myself without beating myself up. If I'm with someone else I just think about all the possible ways they could be cognitively beating me up, or how they could possibly knowingly, or un-knowingly devastate me in the future. Or, maybe sometimes I just don't want to talk. But then I do anyways because I don't want anyone to worry or feel bad for me, when in reality, all I think I really want is someone to care, not necessarily do anything, but just genuinely get me. Really and truly. Or just give that silent sense of someone there, as inactive as my body may be, someone just to lie next to, feel close to and not have to constantly describe my feelings to in order for them to know which direction to turn their bullshit consolation speech in. Just silence, accompaniment. No, not in a sexual way, maybe in a spiritual way. After all, maybe really understanding someone's feelings is so difficult that maybe trying to understand each other is the only source of comfort in this simultaneously huge, tiny, amorous, welcoming, beautifully disgusting, inspiringly hurtful world. Maybe it's the closest thing that I'll ever get to experience in life that makes it feel worth living?
Or worth ending? After all, like I said, I couldn't be bothered to hurt myself. I feel more like Gregor Sampsa from Kafka's Metamorphosis. I'm more likely to die of starvation, immobility and the complete and utter lack of desire to do anything, talk to anyone, or even live. I think simply allowing yourself to just be, and implicitly be alone, or misunderstood, is just easier, or at least more likely to occur than actually doing anything to put the effort in to change that ever-forward-moving, ticking-time-bomb we call our lives, forward. That is the easier choice. Or at least what seems easier, and therefore what I'll probably end up doing. But if I happened to die trying that, maybe it wouldn't be too bad. It certainly wouldn't be...
Okay, so I tried, but I can't read my own hand-writing for that last word. I did have to edit what I wrote a little bit, either because I just couldn't actually figure out what I had written, or because it just made no sense. It's so strange to read in retrospect. I had never been that down in my entire life, haven't felt that way since, and have no intentions of feeling that shitty ever again. But, let me repeat, THIS IS OLD. I AM NOT GOING TO KILL MYSELF (actually, I never intended to in the past, I was just down and being dramatic). Either way, I just wanted to share that. It's ironic how I found such a profoundly depressing document on such a good day.
Oh, well, as they say: life is one big rollercoaster. I'm just waiting to see what the next course of hills and drops will bring me.
But, I don't always feel this way. Nobody does. If they do, there's probably something wrong with them. If there's nothing wrong with them, then please, give me one of whatever they're on. Anyways, I was talking with my mom last night about being depressed, sad, down, blue, whatever you want to call it. Now, my mom is the type of woman who worries incessantly. Perhaps even obsessively. I love her dearly, but sometimes I need to remind her that it's impossible for my sister and I to be perfectly happy all the time and that even though it is difficult for her to see us unhappy, it is normal.
But has it always been normal? Obviously, being born in 1986, I have no clue what it was like to grow up in the '50s and '60s like my mom and dad. The only way I can judge the emotional climate of that generation is through music. Think about it. Have you ever heard a depressing Beatles song? If you have, it probably wasn't one of their greatest hits. What about all the other bands/artists from that time period? The do-wap and pop music certainly wasn't a downer. Even the rock music of that period never got very in touch with the darker side of the human psyche. Not any of the mainstream stuff, anyways. If songs weren't all sunshine and rainbows, they were rebellious. Bands like the Rolling Stones were what the non-conformist youngsters looked up to. With the arrival of the seventies they started to get a little sadder with songs like "Wild Horses," and "Angie," but again, I'm talking about my parents. They grew up with the Beatles and the Monkees, Mo-Town and what I like to generally call "happy pop."
Enter the '70s. The Stones started to write some sadder songs, Led Zeppelin came along, and a plethora of other amazing, sort of trippy, post-love-and-happines of the '60s hippie-ish, "I'm cool and bad ass and there's no questioning that," kind of music. This sort of mixed the rebellious with a little more of the sad aspect of life. Then, sometime around the horrible era of music occurring in the '80s called "hair-metal" ended, we saw something different. In my humble opinion (I by no means claim to be a music expert), The Cure's arrival on the music scene began the formation of a youth culture in which it was actually acceptable to be sad, at least sometimes. With his black clothes, eyeliner, dirty appearance, weird hair and quirky lyrics, Robert Smith became an idol for angst-ridden, edgy, rebellious, overall "cool" teens and 20-somethings. The thing I find so funny about The Cure is that while Smith's appearance seems so dark, and some of the lyrics are a bit eerie and certainly not fun and games, the general sound of the music is still pretty light and easy to listen to. But the message was different. That message, more or less, was it's okay not to be the same as everyone else, but you also don't necessarily have to be a rebel in order to do that.
Now, here's me: child of the '90s. I was seven years old when Kurt Cobain died and was therefore just missed out on experiencing the Grunge era completely first hand. When Kurt shot himself in 1993, I was probably watching Sesame Street or Barney. But, sometime around middle school I started listening to Nirvana and man was I the cooooolest. But let's think about this. Was Kurt Cobain really "cool" in the way we think of cool? With his shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair, scruffy beard, beat-up jeans and messy-looking sweaters bent over a guitar screeching lyrics, which if you can decipher, are pretty messed up sometimes, was he cool? Aside from "Smells Like Teen Spirit," which, awkwardly enough was played at almost every middle-school dance and was almost never completed because everyone present got too "rowdy," Nirvana's songs aren't super-rebellious and they certainly, especially Cobain, don't embody that sort of "tough-guy" image that former rock musicians did. Grunge rock, post-Grunge, and also Industrial rock are what I grew up listening to. Well, that stuff and a fair mix of 'Nsync and Britney Spears, but whatever; people have multiple emotions, I have well-rounded musical tastes. Don't judge.
Anyways, I have finally arrived at my main point. Around December I was extremely depressed. But, I hadn't gone through a break-up, hadn't lost a loved one, or any other kind of event that usually makes a person sad. I just was. I stayed in my room every night, drank a bottle of wine almost every night, slept almost constantly and mostly just didn't, or maybe couldn't, talk to anybody. Even my mom, who I have always been able to talk to about everything. I just didn't have the words. Being in this mood and also juggling dealing with a worried mother is not a fun thing to do. You're depressed, then you try to explain why, you become frustrated, because you're frustrated you can't get out of your bad mood and so on and on and on and on. One day I just needed to purge my mind of whatever was on it. I still didn't know, but I got a fine-tip Sharpie marker, some college-ruled paper and shut myself in my room. I started writing and didn't finish until I had hand-written seven full single-spaced pages. My hands hurt, I wasn't sure what I even said, but I felt a little bit better.
Today I found those seven pages. I don't know if what I wrote on that night back in December is any good, or makes any sense, but I'm also sure that I couldn't recreate it if I tried. Now, just to remind you, as I stated earlier, I am in a fantastic mood and definitely don't feel like this now. I just wanted to get it out there. I'm sure some people can relate. So, with no further ado, here it is:
I've had so many thoughts racing through my head since this afternoon that it's probably going to be pretty impossible to put them into any kind of logical order. Or remember all of them. I'm not sure why I ever put anything I think onto paper. It doesn't usually make me feel better, I never look at it later and don't ever, ever, ever show it to anyone. Half the time I just keep my feelings bottled up. I don't have a hard time telling stories about what has happened to make me feel the way I do, if there is a reason. But usually there isn't anything palpable or logically perceivable or identifiable that happened to make me feel the way I do. Sometimes I just feel depressed. Like hitting a wall. Sometimes it creeps in gradually and I don't even notice it. It's just there one day. No story, no explanation, or if there is one that I can possibly make literate or audible, it's not usually enough reason to spawn such depression. The catalyst can be something minute: having plans cancelled, hearing someone I dated once and had (or still do have) feelings for is dating someone else, etc. It doesn't matter. You can eliminate those feelings or reason your way out of them in myriad ways. So, per usual, I default to inaction: hide in my room, read other people's books, blogs, poems, song lyrics, etc. trying to find something I relate to. Tonight I was perusing my friend's blog and was as blown away by his ability to use words to portray such deep thoughts in a way that is poetic in such a way that you're simultaneously rapt in awe at someones capacity to write and also at the events that inspire them. I left Thailand because I was scared, alone, and miserable. I came back, hoping to return to friends (and maybe a lover) that I foolishly expected to be right there waiting for me. But now, just about seven months later, I think I might actually be more lonely than I ever have been in my entire life.
But lonely just doesn't cut it. If a rational person were dealing with feeling lonely they would want to talk to their friends, family, whoever. But I'm sick of talking. The endless ramblings of "How are you?" the stupid attempts at explaining away my answer, etc. But, "good, thanks," is all I say to everyone, not knowing if anyone actually cares how I'm doing or not. Another reason is that we all live in the shadows of what is considered polite behavior. Asking "How are you?" in this day and age doesn't actually mean anything more than a glance to acknowledge someone's presence does. And, isn't that the easiest way to exist? by just being polite? If you honestly answer "I'm 100% miserable, my day sucked, I'm tired both physically and mentally, I'm petrified of my future, haunted by my past and feel like I'm asphyxiating in my present. Try that on for size," the person would either give you the usual "everything will be okay," kind of speech, or "I know how you feel," or if they're really nice, one of those "you're an amazing person, everyone loves you," kind of speeches. Or they'll just be baffled and go on their way. Even if one person can, on some level, understand someone else's feelings or relate in some way, is it possible for anyone to really, truly feel the same? I mean, doesn't everyone see, feel, hear, understand, and experience things in a different way? How does that work anyways? Do people see the color blue the same way I do, never mind manage to feel lonely in a crowded room? Even when it's quiet I'm not capable of turning my brain off, and lately it hasn't been going in the best direction.
Twice in the last two or three days someone has mentioned suicide to me. Honestly, I've thought about it before but decided a long time ago it wasn't for me. I always told myself (and others, if they pried enough), that I was too afraid to do anything to hurt myself. Or too selfish. Given my self-depriving, all-giving, usually-makes-me-feel-happy kind of unselfishness that I've been experiencing lately, I don't think that's it. In fact, someone recently told me I should be more selfish. Something along the lines of "you do you." I've been thinking about that. I don't usually want to. Or do I? Is that the issue at hand? I'm not sure I even know how to not think about what others may feel or think about their situation, an awkward or possibly hurtful third party comment, or something I did or said recently or possibly on some long-gone, random Tuesday afternoon that I remember but they don't. It's tough not to think about that, especially when making others feel better about themselves makes me feel better. So, therefore, even being selfish would still not make me feel better because what I'd be making up for in the meantime would be lost in a self-inflicted guilt-trip.
Guilt, that's it. That ever-present something that I never seem to be able to escape. Maybe it's because I was technically born a Jew. Maybe it's because I've renounced my religion or any truly soul-felt religiosity as something unprovable and therefore non-existent and therefore not helpful. I've been curious for years about religion and different viewpoint about "God" or life or anything that maybe can or maybe will never be truly felt, seen or understood by anyone unable to, or unwilling to make the blind leap of faith involved in believing something like this.
But that's just it. I've been spending, at the very least, the last year or so of my life just waiting to be hit with some sort of religious revelation, some sort of sudden feeling of spirituality, enlightenment, understanding, peacefulness, or whatever you might expect to come from such an experience. But those things don't just happen.
So, here I am, stuck waiting to be hit by the train, but too afraid, or stupid, or polite, or uncomfortable, or guilt-ridden to jump in its path. Yes, that was a pretty good way to link taking a leap of faith and a reference to suicide all into one metaphor. At least I can do something right.
So, no fear, people. I'm not going to make a fuss and slit my writs or OD on pills or go through the hassle to actually hurt myself. It's not even out of laziness, or fear of death, it's more a lack of motivation, which is an ironic problem for someone who is craving a change so badly that it's all they can think about. But, it is fear that is holding me back. Fear of failing, being lonelier, more-so than I am now and having to turn back around, start over again, go through the miserably overwhelming sense of failure, confusion and disappointment in myself, from both my inner thoughts and the ones I assumed others thought about me. I'll never forget the expression of disappointment that one of my cousins expressed to me at a benign birthday party shortly after I got back from Thailand. It was so shocking, so rare to hear such brutal honesty from someone whom I was not that close with. But, at the same time, it was the closest thing to my own emotion I could sense. But how is living this way any way to live: trapped in boredom and loneliness but fearing change all at the same time?
The call to inaction is so strong right now that it's all I can do. Sure, my thoughts are racing, doing mental laps around my skull, doing jumping-jacks, whatever. It's never quiet. I can't be by myself without beating myself up. If I'm with someone else I just think about all the possible ways they could be cognitively beating me up, or how they could possibly knowingly, or un-knowingly devastate me in the future. Or, maybe sometimes I just don't want to talk. But then I do anyways because I don't want anyone to worry or feel bad for me, when in reality, all I think I really want is someone to care, not necessarily do anything, but just genuinely get me. Really and truly. Or just give that silent sense of someone there, as inactive as my body may be, someone just to lie next to, feel close to and not have to constantly describe my feelings to in order for them to know which direction to turn their bullshit consolation speech in. Just silence, accompaniment. No, not in a sexual way, maybe in a spiritual way. After all, maybe really understanding someone's feelings is so difficult that maybe trying to understand each other is the only source of comfort in this simultaneously huge, tiny, amorous, welcoming, beautifully disgusting, inspiringly hurtful world. Maybe it's the closest thing that I'll ever get to experience in life that makes it feel worth living?
Or worth ending? After all, like I said, I couldn't be bothered to hurt myself. I feel more like Gregor Sampsa from Kafka's Metamorphosis. I'm more likely to die of starvation, immobility and the complete and utter lack of desire to do anything, talk to anyone, or even live. I think simply allowing yourself to just be, and implicitly be alone, or misunderstood, is just easier, or at least more likely to occur than actually doing anything to put the effort in to change that ever-forward-moving, ticking-time-bomb we call our lives, forward. That is the easier choice. Or at least what seems easier, and therefore what I'll probably end up doing. But if I happened to die trying that, maybe it wouldn't be too bad. It certainly wouldn't be...
Okay, so I tried, but I can't read my own hand-writing for that last word. I did have to edit what I wrote a little bit, either because I just couldn't actually figure out what I had written, or because it just made no sense. It's so strange to read in retrospect. I had never been that down in my entire life, haven't felt that way since, and have no intentions of feeling that shitty ever again. But, let me repeat, THIS IS OLD. I AM NOT GOING TO KILL MYSELF (actually, I never intended to in the past, I was just down and being dramatic). Either way, I just wanted to share that. It's ironic how I found such a profoundly depressing document on such a good day.
Oh, well, as they say: life is one big rollercoaster. I'm just waiting to see what the next course of hills and drops will bring me.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Alone Time
I've been spending a lot of time alone lately. I don't consider this a bad thing; in fact, I've been doing so by choice. It's not that I don't have the option to see friends or that I've been really busy or anything like that, either. In fact, I could absolutely waltz into the next room and place myself on the couch next to my roommates and act like a normal, social human being. But, I just don't want to.
It's not because I'm depressed, either. In fact, today I'm in quite a good mood. Perhaps I just enjoy my own company. Also, my brain has been such a whirlwind of activity lately that it seems as if I'm not really alone at all. No, I'm not schizophrenic. I just have a lot to think about. The last three nights have been almost the same. Come home from work. Change into pajamas. Find something to eat. Eat it. Get in my bed. Read a book. Check Facebook. Continue to read a book. Drink a beer while reading. Fall asleep early. This probably sounds lame and boring, but you know what? If I had another option (which I could if I felt like picking up the phone or leaving my room) I would still choose this. In fact, I'm going to do it again tonight.
I'm probably being a bad friend. I do this sort of thing semi-frequently. Not that my friends' lives don't go on without me around (good thing because, especially lately, I'm not around that often), but I feel like I should be a bit more communicative than I have been. I do want to see people, that's not the case, I guess I'm just too lazy to make plans, drive anywhere, put on nice clothes or talk to other people. Yes, this last point sounds a bit harsh, but, it's the truth. If someone needed to talk to me of course I would be there to listen. I'm just not running to my phone to make all the calls that I probably should be making.
The things that have been on my mind just aren't the sort of things I CAN really talk to anyone about. I mean, I could try, but often times I don't feel like I can really relate to or communicate effectively with some people. Take this example: so, I've been kind of dating someone for a couple months now. He's a nice enough guy, not bad looking, pretty nice to me, etc. But when I want to talk about my day, my classes, my students, or anything even remotely philosophical or intellectually challenging it's like talking to a wall. This is one of a few reasons why this probably will never become a full-blown relationship. Things are good, but honestly, I wouldn't exactly be devastated if I never saw him again. I realize that most people aren't as in love with their jobs as I am, but you could at least fein interest when I'm telling you a story that I feel passionately about. I understand that for many people teaching English to foreigners my age seems like a slightly odd occupation, but I just don't get it when my enthusiasm doesn't carry over to others. And I'm not saying that I'm better than or intellectually above this person, or any other people who don't understand how amazing it feels to do what I do every day. I'm just different.
That is the truth: I am different. Unique, if you will. Once again, not better, just different. Seriously, if I had to name my top five favorite topics to talk about they would probably be: Bjork, gender relations, existentialism/cosmology/ontology/almost anything ending in -ism or -logy, my students/job (even grammar...from a philosophical standpoint, of course) and then what I deem "normal stuff" like clothes, running, etc. Not that there is anything wrong with "normal stuff," or celebrity gossip, popular TV shows, every little thing that happens in town (or on Facebook), sports, etc. I can talk about all of those things but I need to really think deeply occasionally and not many people want to do that. Again, I'm not being condescending, it's just the truth. Actually, avoiding these topics may be the solution to leading a happier life. Maybe if you aren't stuck thinking things like "well, if there's no Heaven and no God and therefore no reason for any of us to suffer, then why is anybody ever unhappy?" you can feel happier. Asking questions you don't know the answer to can be quite frustrating. Or, as I've been experiencing, it can be an interesting, relaxing (and simultaneously enervating, if that is possible), and quite useful.
For example, I've been thinking a lot about my future lately. Isn't it strange that when we're younger our future seems so certain and now that I'm an "adult," and I use that term loosely, I have no freakin' clue what the next stage is in my life. (This topic will probably be another blog entry unto itself.)
Another topic on my mind lately: being friendly, making friends, maintaining contacts with old friends, etc. (I'll elaborate later.)
Also, all the things I want and all the things I want to do. Is it possible to be totally happy? To feel 100% fulfilled and accomplished? What's the difference between contentment, happiness, and complacency? But alas, I could go on and on about this (probably going to be another entry...see? The ideas just keep coming).
Who needs conversation constantly when you've got all this on your mind? Not that I won't attempt to do something fun once the weekend comes, but I'm pretty happy to be spending this Wednesday night, by myself, reading a book, happily.
It's not because I'm depressed, either. In fact, today I'm in quite a good mood. Perhaps I just enjoy my own company. Also, my brain has been such a whirlwind of activity lately that it seems as if I'm not really alone at all. No, I'm not schizophrenic. I just have a lot to think about. The last three nights have been almost the same. Come home from work. Change into pajamas. Find something to eat. Eat it. Get in my bed. Read a book. Check Facebook. Continue to read a book. Drink a beer while reading. Fall asleep early. This probably sounds lame and boring, but you know what? If I had another option (which I could if I felt like picking up the phone or leaving my room) I would still choose this. In fact, I'm going to do it again tonight.
I'm probably being a bad friend. I do this sort of thing semi-frequently. Not that my friends' lives don't go on without me around (good thing because, especially lately, I'm not around that often), but I feel like I should be a bit more communicative than I have been. I do want to see people, that's not the case, I guess I'm just too lazy to make plans, drive anywhere, put on nice clothes or talk to other people. Yes, this last point sounds a bit harsh, but, it's the truth. If someone needed to talk to me of course I would be there to listen. I'm just not running to my phone to make all the calls that I probably should be making.
The things that have been on my mind just aren't the sort of things I CAN really talk to anyone about. I mean, I could try, but often times I don't feel like I can really relate to or communicate effectively with some people. Take this example: so, I've been kind of dating someone for a couple months now. He's a nice enough guy, not bad looking, pretty nice to me, etc. But when I want to talk about my day, my classes, my students, or anything even remotely philosophical or intellectually challenging it's like talking to a wall. This is one of a few reasons why this probably will never become a full-blown relationship. Things are good, but honestly, I wouldn't exactly be devastated if I never saw him again. I realize that most people aren't as in love with their jobs as I am, but you could at least fein interest when I'm telling you a story that I feel passionately about. I understand that for many people teaching English to foreigners my age seems like a slightly odd occupation, but I just don't get it when my enthusiasm doesn't carry over to others. And I'm not saying that I'm better than or intellectually above this person, or any other people who don't understand how amazing it feels to do what I do every day. I'm just different.
That is the truth: I am different. Unique, if you will. Once again, not better, just different. Seriously, if I had to name my top five favorite topics to talk about they would probably be: Bjork, gender relations, existentialism/cosmology/ontology/almost anything ending in -ism or -logy, my students/job (even grammar...from a philosophical standpoint, of course) and then what I deem "normal stuff" like clothes, running, etc. Not that there is anything wrong with "normal stuff," or celebrity gossip, popular TV shows, every little thing that happens in town (or on Facebook), sports, etc. I can talk about all of those things but I need to really think deeply occasionally and not many people want to do that. Again, I'm not being condescending, it's just the truth. Actually, avoiding these topics may be the solution to leading a happier life. Maybe if you aren't stuck thinking things like "well, if there's no Heaven and no God and therefore no reason for any of us to suffer, then why is anybody ever unhappy?" you can feel happier. Asking questions you don't know the answer to can be quite frustrating. Or, as I've been experiencing, it can be an interesting, relaxing (and simultaneously enervating, if that is possible), and quite useful.
For example, I've been thinking a lot about my future lately. Isn't it strange that when we're younger our future seems so certain and now that I'm an "adult," and I use that term loosely, I have no freakin' clue what the next stage is in my life. (This topic will probably be another blog entry unto itself.)
Another topic on my mind lately: being friendly, making friends, maintaining contacts with old friends, etc. (I'll elaborate later.)
Also, all the things I want and all the things I want to do. Is it possible to be totally happy? To feel 100% fulfilled and accomplished? What's the difference between contentment, happiness, and complacency? But alas, I could go on and on about this (probably going to be another entry...see? The ideas just keep coming).
Who needs conversation constantly when you've got all this on your mind? Not that I won't attempt to do something fun once the weekend comes, but I'm pretty happy to be spending this Wednesday night, by myself, reading a book, happily.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Time is a Funny Thing, Really
Time is an interesting concept. Each person's conceptualization of time is different and one's own perception often changes depending on what is happening in their life.
Everyone has people in their lives: family, friends, co-workers, acquaintances, etc. These people, however, do not change for the most part. You're linked to your family by blood and mostly maintain those relationships out of necessity or obligation. Friendship, however, is a completely different story.
Throughout my nearly 25 years on this Earth there has been a constant wax and wane in my relationships, both platonic and romantic. Lately I've been consumed by this idea. Someone you may have called your best friend a few months ago may now feel like a complete stranger now. People you meet may become close friends almost instantly. Despite the advances in technology, particularly in social networking, maintaining close bonds with people can be a difficult and time-consuming task. People enter and exit your lives constantly. Each interaction with another human being, no matter how brief, has at least a minimal influence on our emotional and social lives.
This concept originally dawned on me a few months ago. As an ESL teacher at a school where students come from all over the world to study English for a few months (sometimes less, sometimes more), I often find myself saddened when students leave. Some may have only been there one, three, six months or a year, but nonetheless, bonds are formed through interaction with these people. I spend five out of seven days with my students, whom I really enjoy meeting, getting to know and also whom I learn many interesting things about life abroad and also hear unbiased opinions about the city I have called home since I was born. It amazes me how close you can become with people you barely knew when you first met them. Some of these bonds continue after they leave, but many do not. I've been at this job for approximately nine months now and it's really beginning to hit me that for the time being at least, I will always be there but these people will eventually learn all there is to know and then move on to do bigger and better things either in the US or back in their home countries. Throughout my time at ELS language centers I have met countless numbers of interesting, unique and beautiful people from all over the globe. This has also made me itchy to travel more.
Friends can be a rather different story. Especially in youth, it is common to think of your closest friends as people will be there for your entire life. Think back on high school. You had your closest friends and assumed that they would remain as such forever. Then you go away to college. New people enter your life, you're busy with classes and social activities and your relationships with those friends from high school (or before) dwindle slowly and eventually may even disappear all together. That person or those people whom you thought you knew every little tid-bit about slowly become like strangers. Yes, this may not happen for some people who are lucky enough to maintain those bonds, but I think for most this is a common occurrence. After college, maintaining friendships with these people is a difficult, but possible task, depending how good you are at staying in touch with people. After college many of your friends move to different cities or states or even countries and these people whom you saw every day for four years become people you talk to occasionally but possibly see only once a year.
But the friendships I've been pondering in detail lately are those that were formed after college, once I entered the working world. These occur spontaneously, randomly, and often completely by chance. Particularly with people you meet in the work place are these friendships formed. Even if you become instantly close to a person, this bond can be broken gradually by differences of opinions or plans for the future. If one friend receives a promotion their clique of people will change to others in their rank and if you have not been so fortunate as to be promoted as well, then often times you are dropped from that person's life. Someone you were once very close with can become like a different person altogether. These changes happen slowly and therefore hurt less.
But abrupt change is what is difficult. Perhaps you have a falling-out with a close friend or break up with your significant other. These are both events that occur very quickly and can hurt us very deeply. One such incidence occurred to me a few months ago. My (now ex-) best friend and I had a falling out and it was difficult to deal with the pain. Of course, at first my anger muted this feeling, but more recently I've been quite sad about it. It is very difficult to adjust from seeing and talking to someone every day to never speaking with them at all. But, this happens all the time. It's part of growing up. Just like job responsibilities and the tasks required of you when you become an adult (whatever that means) make maintaining close friendships extremely difficult, particularly for me, who is completely consumed by my job which I adore.
And then there are romantic relationships, of course. Breakups are something we all experience, usually multiple times throughout our lives, but really thinking about it is difficult. But thinking about it while you are still in mourning over your lost love and looking at that relationship in retrospect are two entirely different things. Maybe you considered this person not just a boyfriend or girlfriend but also as a life companion, best friend or even future spouse. Often these people are such an important part of your life and then they abruptly disappear. This is partly because people, particularly in your teens and twenties, tend to grow, develop and learn to understand their own character and recognize their goals more easily. Due to this, compatibility in the romantic sphere can become obvious over time and the people in that couple tend to go their separate ways. I've been in two serious, long-term relationships in my life and find it strange to think that while I spent two years with each of these people I now have no form of communication with them and have no idea what they are doing. Part of me has a genuinely plutonic, not romantic, interest in their lives. When someone is there for so long it's hard to not be curious. There have been more bizarre and complicated relationships, trysts, affairs, or whatever you'd like to call them since my break up with my last boyfriend, but those could be an entirely different entry and this topic is not a tangent I'd like to elaborate on at the moment.
In summary, it's wil to think of all the people we encounter on a daily basis. There are billions of people in the world, which seems like an unfathomable number, but if you think about all the people you've known, met briefly, or even just exchanged glances with on the subway or in the grocery store that number certainly seems less daunting.
I am grateful for everyone in my life: past, present, and those I will meet in the future. But if you get a chance, sit back and think about this idea. It is sort of sad because ideally maintaining contact with everyone you've ever known would be nice (despite being nearly impossible), but on the bright side, be curious about the new person that could enter your life and impact it in a meaningful way. Maybe it will happen tomorrow, next week, next year or in five years. Either way, people are always coming and going in our lives and the logistics and complications of these life relationships will always be difficult to understand.
Everyone has people in their lives: family, friends, co-workers, acquaintances, etc. These people, however, do not change for the most part. You're linked to your family by blood and mostly maintain those relationships out of necessity or obligation. Friendship, however, is a completely different story.
Throughout my nearly 25 years on this Earth there has been a constant wax and wane in my relationships, both platonic and romantic. Lately I've been consumed by this idea. Someone you may have called your best friend a few months ago may now feel like a complete stranger now. People you meet may become close friends almost instantly. Despite the advances in technology, particularly in social networking, maintaining close bonds with people can be a difficult and time-consuming task. People enter and exit your lives constantly. Each interaction with another human being, no matter how brief, has at least a minimal influence on our emotional and social lives.
This concept originally dawned on me a few months ago. As an ESL teacher at a school where students come from all over the world to study English for a few months (sometimes less, sometimes more), I often find myself saddened when students leave. Some may have only been there one, three, six months or a year, but nonetheless, bonds are formed through interaction with these people. I spend five out of seven days with my students, whom I really enjoy meeting, getting to know and also whom I learn many interesting things about life abroad and also hear unbiased opinions about the city I have called home since I was born. It amazes me how close you can become with people you barely knew when you first met them. Some of these bonds continue after they leave, but many do not. I've been at this job for approximately nine months now and it's really beginning to hit me that for the time being at least, I will always be there but these people will eventually learn all there is to know and then move on to do bigger and better things either in the US or back in their home countries. Throughout my time at ELS language centers I have met countless numbers of interesting, unique and beautiful people from all over the globe. This has also made me itchy to travel more.
Friends can be a rather different story. Especially in youth, it is common to think of your closest friends as people will be there for your entire life. Think back on high school. You had your closest friends and assumed that they would remain as such forever. Then you go away to college. New people enter your life, you're busy with classes and social activities and your relationships with those friends from high school (or before) dwindle slowly and eventually may even disappear all together. That person or those people whom you thought you knew every little tid-bit about slowly become like strangers. Yes, this may not happen for some people who are lucky enough to maintain those bonds, but I think for most this is a common occurrence. After college, maintaining friendships with these people is a difficult, but possible task, depending how good you are at staying in touch with people. After college many of your friends move to different cities or states or even countries and these people whom you saw every day for four years become people you talk to occasionally but possibly see only once a year.
But the friendships I've been pondering in detail lately are those that were formed after college, once I entered the working world. These occur spontaneously, randomly, and often completely by chance. Particularly with people you meet in the work place are these friendships formed. Even if you become instantly close to a person, this bond can be broken gradually by differences of opinions or plans for the future. If one friend receives a promotion their clique of people will change to others in their rank and if you have not been so fortunate as to be promoted as well, then often times you are dropped from that person's life. Someone you were once very close with can become like a different person altogether. These changes happen slowly and therefore hurt less.
But abrupt change is what is difficult. Perhaps you have a falling-out with a close friend or break up with your significant other. These are both events that occur very quickly and can hurt us very deeply. One such incidence occurred to me a few months ago. My (now ex-) best friend and I had a falling out and it was difficult to deal with the pain. Of course, at first my anger muted this feeling, but more recently I've been quite sad about it. It is very difficult to adjust from seeing and talking to someone every day to never speaking with them at all. But, this happens all the time. It's part of growing up. Just like job responsibilities and the tasks required of you when you become an adult (whatever that means) make maintaining close friendships extremely difficult, particularly for me, who is completely consumed by my job which I adore.
And then there are romantic relationships, of course. Breakups are something we all experience, usually multiple times throughout our lives, but really thinking about it is difficult. But thinking about it while you are still in mourning over your lost love and looking at that relationship in retrospect are two entirely different things. Maybe you considered this person not just a boyfriend or girlfriend but also as a life companion, best friend or even future spouse. Often these people are such an important part of your life and then they abruptly disappear. This is partly because people, particularly in your teens and twenties, tend to grow, develop and learn to understand their own character and recognize their goals more easily. Due to this, compatibility in the romantic sphere can become obvious over time and the people in that couple tend to go their separate ways. I've been in two serious, long-term relationships in my life and find it strange to think that while I spent two years with each of these people I now have no form of communication with them and have no idea what they are doing. Part of me has a genuinely plutonic, not romantic, interest in their lives. When someone is there for so long it's hard to not be curious. There have been more bizarre and complicated relationships, trysts, affairs, or whatever you'd like to call them since my break up with my last boyfriend, but those could be an entirely different entry and this topic is not a tangent I'd like to elaborate on at the moment.
In summary, it's wil to think of all the people we encounter on a daily basis. There are billions of people in the world, which seems like an unfathomable number, but if you think about all the people you've known, met briefly, or even just exchanged glances with on the subway or in the grocery store that number certainly seems less daunting.
I am grateful for everyone in my life: past, present, and those I will meet in the future. But if you get a chance, sit back and think about this idea. It is sort of sad because ideally maintaining contact with everyone you've ever known would be nice (despite being nearly impossible), but on the bright side, be curious about the new person that could enter your life and impact it in a meaningful way. Maybe it will happen tomorrow, next week, next year or in five years. Either way, people are always coming and going in our lives and the logistics and complications of these life relationships will always be difficult to understand.
Statement of Purpose
I've been meaning to start a blog for some time now. Over the course of the last year my life has undergone many changes that have been enlightening, disheartening, eye-opening and dramatic. Initially, my entries may be extracts from various journals I've kept (mostly unsuccessfully) throughout my life. I plan to share my thoughts (which, unfortunately usually come to me at inopportune times such as in the shower, while driving to work, or when I have no access to paper or a computer). Once I've settled into a pattern of regularly writing, which I hope I will, I promise it will be more interesting. My first full entry will be related to the concept of time, a topic which I have been pondering in great detail lately. Enjoy, readers!
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