C'est la vie? C'est MA vie

GAWD I hate this whiny bitch. I mean, it could be because the writing isn't that good (let's call it repetitive in an uninspired way and uninspired in a repetitive way) or it could be because technically I haven't been 23 for 27 days or it could be that I very actively made life choices to avoid living my way into these cliches. (Fear is an excellent motivator.) But the part that really gets me is the cheesiness at the end. Seriously? Neither you nor your audience deserve this coddling, and you haven't for nearly two decades. Get your shit together. Or at least take on your shit with a fresh approach.

Speaking of dealing with metaphysical angst in new and exciting ways, the Picasso Museum reopened here in Paris after an (unexpectedly long) five year renovation. (Now that's what I call a transition.) Picasso,"the insider who was always an outsider," lived in Paris for most of his adult life and though I've never seen a curator call him Parisian, he was certainly in conversation with these enclaves of otherness that populated the city of lights (all the way from gas to electric) in the 20th century. And it's kind of funny that we associate artists like Picasso and Hemingway and Stein with this City when their experience was probably closer to an occupation than an immersion. They hung out with other expats and did expaty things and sure, they patronized local businesses, but cafe creme and vin rouge do not a Parisian make.

And I'm really no different. There is a constant struggle...struggle is the wrong word, it implies that my life is hard...a constant tug between blending in and embracing the aspects of my otherness that make Paris all the more exciting. When I see a picturesque alley curving into a softly lit corner, can I take a picture? Do I want a picture? Should I pretend that this is normal, or feed my own aesthetic delight? At the end of the day there are no wrong answers, and the choice is really mine to make what I want of the experience.

And here's the secret: that is not a condition particular to Parisian photo ops. As a member of the universe's most coddled generation I feel like, much to my disappointment, it might be necessary to remind my peers that 23 (and 22 and 24 and all the way up, as high as you care to go) is not an incurable disease. Your early 20s are not an illness or temporary psychosis or punishment. This epoch of our lives is a boundless realm of opportunities, which can either be squandered whining and watching netflix or experienced at the hands of the world that exists beyond the triple locked doors of our tiny apartments. (Note: there is in fact room for both, it may even be a necessity, I'm not ruling it out)

Well you make it sound so easy...like I have complete control over my own destiny, like I'm the only one to blame if shit's not going the way I want it to...Well...yea! A little extreme, but hate to break it to you sunshine, all the excuses people have been making for you are now being showered upon the next generation of over/under achievers. So put on some Sara Bareilles, and then some Beyonce, dust yourself off, and be honest with yourself about your life. Acknowledge the things that make you happy. Revel in them. Change the things that don't. Yes, CHANGE! You can do it. Relatively young dogs learn new tricks all the time. ALL the time. And once you accept this challenge the frightening yet empowering truth comes out, which is that your life is not a circumstance of the universe or voo doo or your neighbors who have really loud sex while you're trying to sleep. It's just you. So make the most of it.

Netflix in moderation. Responsibility in gross. It's called growing up.

A Forgotten Post

I find being miserable exhausting. I spent most of the day in a fitful stupor. After a long weekend full of near misses, I desperately wanted today to be good, but approached it with the expectation that it would be good all on its own, that the world is self correcting, that my bad mood would be rectified by affirmations and explanations...what a joke. However well things may be going in this city there is absolutely no one who is more interested in my well being than I am. So why give myself such a disadvantage, to start a week with cartoon wavy rays of anger emanating from my furrowed brow, crossed arms, hunched shoulders. I don't even want to talk to that person, why would anyone else

It's one thing to not need to be friends with everyone, but quite another to not be friends with anyone. You might need to re-read that. Lots of double negatives.

And often it's just a small change of perspective, most often sparked by the smallest of victories, and sometimes just the absence of failure.

Like not being confused by the clerk at the check out for the first time. And while looks from pâtissiers when I mispronounce éclairé are scalding, they are also just a reminder that to be successful you can't just try hard when you're happy, you have to try hard when it's the last thing you feel like doing.

I find that homesickness comes in waves. It's not so much that it ebbs and flows. By waves I mean that it sucks you under, breathless, drowning, a faint light your only indication of the surface. And even then, as you kick and flutter and flip in an effort to save yourself, another wave crashes, blinding you with white foam. It all feels counter intuitive, like maybe it would be easier to just sink to the bottom and find your way out the other end.
And then in some unseen tumult you are thrust towards the surface and in a spasm of energy, coming from some store kept hidden from even you, you burst out like Ariel, thrilled to live on a planet with breathable oxygen and full of confused joy that you've made it. And you celebrate the victory by yourself. That's how homesickness is like waves. It's like the last week in August on the east coast, when the tides promise hurricane season.
Plus tard...

So I found this draft when I sat down today to offer a new post. A delightful, uplifting piece to be certain. Self-indulgent and temporary and incompatible with any discernable creative arc. But I thought it was worth sharing.

When I started telling everyone that I was moving to Paris for a few months to learn French I remember being surprised, or at least slightly jarred by the most common response I received:

"Wow, you're so brave! That's so brave...etc etc."

When I read these messages and emails and texts I remember thinking "well...not really." I mean, I'm my mind, the financial risk was minimal, I wasn't spending money I didn't have; the geographic risk was non existent, Paris is a major metropolitan area with all the presumed comforts of modernity; the language barrier was kind of the point, I wanted to learn French; and the social risk could be no worse than returning to suburgatory for a year after college, at the very least there would be other people my age.

It became clear that very few people registered those changes the way I did, and in recent weeks it has become clear that these well-wishers seemed to understand something that I didn't. Risk doesn't have to be irreversible to be real. Investing emotionally in a path or a particular version of the future is just as potentially devastating as an emptied bank account or being alone.

And what a lovely way to think of myself, as being brave. Because its not all that easy to wake up every day with the resolve to give 110% to something that I don't really know how it's going to work out. So bravery then just becomes the choice, the decision. I'll take this risk. I'll miss friends and family and peanut butter in a healthy way. I'll walk towards an end that I can't see.

What the Fuck Do I Want

This question has been plaguing me for the better part of 96 hours, since a meeting with a professor sent me spiraling into self doubt and uncertainty about my future. A fringe benefit of paralyzing terror regarding the future is some brief clarity regarding what you do want, and hopefully you can turn these things into some sort of cogent answer to the black hole ahead.

1. I want to-do lists to become check lists full of red xs and tally marks. I want to see places and do things that make other people jealous

2. I want to live in other cities and become citizens of other countries and finally belong nowhere at all because my heart is in too many places

3. I want to be a citizen of the world. If ever I meet a person who is bi-lingual I always want to know one of their languages. I don't want to be told what people are saying in films by condescending sub titles, I want to translate for myself. I want to know words in other languages that lack translations and use them to perfectly describe my thrilling life

4. I don't want to lose people. This one is doomed for failure in the same way that we are all inevitably ambling towards headstones but it doesn't make it any less true for me. I don't want to lose friends to petty fights or inconvenience. I want to be the friend that keeps in touch, even across the globe.

5. I want to fall in love. And even if it doesn't work out I want to know that I was capable of loving someone and that he was capable of loving me

6. I want to work with people and listen to their wrong opinions and the poetry of their right answers and clever solutions

7. I want to question myself and challenge myself and improve myself

8. I want two homes. I want an urban oasis with large windows and minimalism and chrome and hard wood where we can only store 4 roles of toilet paper at a time. I want a country escape where I can be reminded of the world before humans got smart and greedy and  built glimmering idols, 97 stories tall, to prove their prowess and competency.

9. I want ice cream. I'd love a better body, and I continue to work for it, but I hope to never be so diet-crazed or food conscious or so ill that I can not enjoy some ice cream.

10. I want no regrets. Whatever choices or mistakes I make, whatever crimes I commit, whatever recognition I receive or whatever trade-offs I make, I want them to be in honest enough pursuits that I can look back and smile, not wince, on my formative years.

and a bonus...

11. I want to be young forever. I don't mean that I want my boobs to stay perky or that I want to be able to do tequila shots without a hangover. I just mean that I hope I am able to continue looking forward, at all that has yet to happen and at all the possibilities in each new stage of my life. And I hope I stay resistant to the idea of stages, and feel free to draw in the lines myself.

Life Philosophy

I've decide to let you all in on a little secret. Much to the detriment of my blog I've been in a delightful mood for the past several days, which translates to few angsty musings for blog fodder. My apologies. So I thought I'd share my life philosophy. One of the many people who shared their thoughts on my blog with me after my last facebook share was my Pseudo-Aunt (I don't have any real aunts, but I'm pretty content just having her and a few others). And she actually shared something that I whole-heartedly agree with, which is that happiness is a choice. Happiness is totally a choice. And in response to the million counter examples that your brain just automatically racked up, I say calm down. Wait to hear what I have to say. What I mean by "happiness is a choice" is that the world is a mess and we have no control over 99.9983674%  of what happens. Add that will be true whether we choose happiness or not. The roughly .1127436% of the world that we have control over is the way we respond to it. And in that way, happiness is not just a choice. It's the only choice that we have. The choice that affects all other experiences. So choose happiness. Because really, why wouldn't you?

OK, so that's only a part of my life philosophy. More just something that I wholeheartedly believe. Here's my life philosophy. It's an idea that it took me thousands of days, hundreds of failures, and a bit of gut instinct to discover, but now it's a phrase and concept I return to regularly:

be at one with the chaos of the universe

It is a challenge, for sure. But if you can manage it you'll be astounded at how much better your life becomes. At how much easier things seem and how much more elegantly simple or beautifully complex everything begins to appear. Be at one with the chaos of the universe. Accept your lack of control. Roll with the punches. Best laid plans etc. etc. And once you align yourself with the pure chaos that has ushered in the world as we know it you will find that big changes seem smaller and everything seems a little less do or die. So give yourself a break. Embrace the beauty of unpredictability  Choose happiness. Choose chaos. Choose excitement and adventure. Be at one with the chaos of the universe.

Because really, it's never that big of a deal.

The Circle Game

Over the past few weeks I've had several conversations with different people about the idea of graduating college and ending up exactly where we started.

I just want to say that that cycle of thinking is not only destructive but flat out wrong. Really? Even if you had lived in a cardboard box, shut off from the rest of the world, you would still emerge paler and more socially awkward. People change in 4 years. That is the nature of time and air pollution. So consequently, even if we're in the same relative position that we were in 4 years ago (the bottom) it's impossible for us to be in the actual same position. We know more, about ourselves and about the world. We have access to opportunities that we couldn't have dreamed of four years ago. We understand the world differently.

And even if we return to the same geography that we grew up in, It doesn't mean that we suddenly and immediately regress. On some fronts, sure. But you would switch opinions on some things if you went anywhere. The necessity of a winter coat, the appropriateness of taco meat on your pizza, EDM, for just a few examples. We change our minds, and it's ok if we change them back on some of the small things. But I maintain, moving back home does not mean that you become your 18 year old self. Because seriously, if the 18 year old version of yourself is better than your current version in any way besides maybe being more hopeful then my recommendation to you is not to go home but to spend a year in the Australian outback reevaluating how you make life choices. Seriously, just go now. Because moving home is only going to work if you feel comfortable with the person you've become. And you feel comfortable seeking out new opportunities and outlets in your original neck of the woods.

But something that's extremely important to remember is that you do have to change. The next 4 years of your life are not any more static than the last. New experiences and opportunities are going to throw us, and to try to hang on to the exact version of yourself that existed the moment you accept your degree is a dangerous but effective way to prevent yourself from experiencing anything or growing at all. Be open to the newness of the next stage, especially in places we've been before.

Sleepaway

Today I'm missing Camp, as I often do when I'm overwhelmed. So, to tide you over until my next real post, here is a speech I delivered at one of the final camp gatherings of the summer (and of my time there, 8 years as a camper and 5 years as staff). Whether or not you had the pleasure of going to camp, I hope you find something familiar in this ode that helps explain your relationship to the people and places that have helped you grow up and become all the things that you like about yourself. I introduced it as a love letter, and read verbatim from there:

Dear Camp,

Let’s start at the end.

As a Golan camper I felt the end of camper days drawing oppressively near. It was in the dining hall on the last day of camp. I was wearing my “I heart brussel sprouts” t-shirt and standing between Paige and Blaire and across from Shauna and our whole bunk was standing between the salad bar and our table singing at the top of our lungs. This was before ‘home away from home’ and our dining hall revelry usually consisted of build me up buttercup, wonderwall, and the circle game, so I can only assume that’s what we were singing. But I remember it perfectly otherwise. I remember that I stood there grinning ear to ear, overwhelmed by the magic of camp spirit and friendship and by the idea that if someone had offered postponing the rest of my life indefinitely to live in that single moment forever I would have done it in a heart beat. And I remember crying, tears streaming as I sang, because I knew that as much as I wished it so, that moment, like my summer, and like camp, would have to come to an end.

It wouldn’t be fair to say that every valuable experience I’ve had has been at camp. I skipped TAC 2 to spend 5 weeks working on an archeological dig in Israel. I carved out the middle three weeks of TAC 1 to volunteer for the National Parks of the Galapagos Islands. I decided to go to school 3,000 miles from home in Los Angeles and then decided to go even further, to an iconicly tumultuous European country to study abroad for a semester. All of these adventures helped me discover parts of myself that I never would have know if I hadn’t leapt off the edge of my comfort zone. But what I can say with absolute steadfast certainty is that it was my time with you, camp, that prepared me for each of these experiences.

Camp, you are the place that taught me how to be a good friend, how to be a good listener. You taught me to be adventurous, open, understanding, and accepting of difference. You affirmed and encouraged my independence while I built lifelong friendships with the girls around me. You taught me skills ranging from box stitch to shot put and taught that it was ok to try and fail as long as you sincerely tried. You taught me what it felt like to love and to be loved and be appreciated and be valued. You taught me the meaning of community. You taught me that home isn’t your return address it’s wherever there’s somewhere waiting for you to return. You taught me that if you love yourself everything else will fall into place. And that if you have the courage to try that the support will always follow. You taught me the moving power of friendship. Camp friendship is not just about having someone to laugh with or having someone to call, it’s about the unique experience of feeling truly connected to the world. Camp is the place you can never be alone. And for better or worse that means that camp is the one place and one experience where I have felt the most connected, the most comfortable, and the most loved.

I can’t say with certainty that I’ll never feel this way at any other point in time or with any other group of people, but I can say that what was once 10 for 2 (waiting ten months for 2 at camp) has evolved into 2 for 10 (spending 2 months at camp to give me the confidence, support, and energy I need to go out and live my life).

One day very soon this is going to evolve into a 13 for life situation. And by that I mean that one day soon I’m going to have to say goodbye, and the lessons I’ve learned over the 24 months I’ve been here are going to have to be enough. Camp, you have prepared me to succeed in every realm of life. You’ve taught me how to work hard, how to make the best of any situation, how to make new friends, keep old ones, and treat people well. You’ve taught me how to push myself and trust myself. And the time is fast approaching that I’ll have to put that preparation to good use.

I agree with the words of my camp bible, “Sleepaway”: Camp is more than a place, it’s a feeling. But in the same way that I don’t only feel loved on Valentine’s day or only feel full on Thanksgiving, I don’t only feel camp when I’m at camp. Whenever I feel myself getting closer to a new friend or taking a risk or challenging myself or saying the camp hamotzi at Friday night dinner with my family or singing along to wonderwall on the radio I feel you camp. I get goose bumps and I smile and my eyes burn and my stomach turns and my chest tightens because while everything reminds me of this summer splendor, nothing ever quite compares. You are always with me, but there is a constant nagging pain that I can’t always be with you.

I’m writing you this letter to thank you more than anything else. You have given me everything. I am certain of so few things in this world. I am certain that beauty can be found anywhere. I am certain that the universe is unpredictably chaotic. And I am certain that meaning in life comes from the people we share it with. I thank you and I love you for bringing meaning to my life. You won’t always be with me, but my camp friends will, and I know that whenever we’re together and we talk about our lives we will always return to the days we spent together here, under your canopy of trees, with your lake breeze, and we’ll smile and sigh at the magic that brought us together and made us into the women we will become. And for that magic, a million thank yous will never suffice.

Love, forever and always

Confidence, Cohen. Confidence.

These wise words, spoken by Anna to Seth "founder of Geek Chic" Cohen, embody the OC's habit of projecting 20-something social issues onto the generally unbelievable teenagers of Orange County. (I rewatched this entire series over the course of several years, partially by accident, because my younger sister, who had command of the TV at all times that were not Gilmore Girls and 30 Rock, had a habit of falling in love with high school based 40 minute dramas only after they went off air). But my point, dear readers, is that Anna had a point. Not only was she an admirable bicoastal (and in my opinion very potentially bi-sexual), jet-setter, fashionista, high school sophomore, but she knew how to keep her cool.

Anna's independence makes her a believable 20-something, but her level-headed quippiness makes her an admirable one. So I'd like to dedicate this post to reiterating her message: Confidence.

I found this gem on Pinterest:

You Don't Have to Have it All Figured Out to Move Forward

This was the most life affirming piece of advice I have encountered in a long time. But I would like to amend this sage wisdom with the fact that you should keep moving forward, regardless of your knowledge (or lack thereof) of where you'll end up. As it is with a bicycle, moving forward is the only way to keep your balance.

Unfortunately, it's not that easy. Roadblocks on roadblocks on roadblocks exist between you and the huge blank canvas that is your next step. The first and most obvious would be that the canvas is blank. Not a whole lot of motivation...or so you thought! The fact that the canvas is blank should be ALL of your motivation! These are the most exciting years of your life. You have the most resources (that money in the bank, that hot bod, a biological ability to resist hangovers, those parents...) with the fewest things tying you down (I don't see no ring on that finger.) So go on an adventure!

Until you hit road block number 2.  Your Parents. Now here your pesky parents can represent friends, siblings, extended family, your parents' friends, or they can just represent your parents. But this is the roadblock that I'm really committed to committing arson on.

They will tell you that your ideas are dumb. That the printed book industry is going the way of grammar or that mermaids do not merit a field within marine biology.
They'll tell you that you need a plan. Moving back home isn't an option, pops? You're withdrawing money from my bank account to repay you for my graduation trip? You want me to find a paid internship in nonprofits? Y'know, that's so funny, I actually always suspected that you were INSANE.
They'll tell you that you haven't thought things through. They'll enumerate the dangers of urban city scapes and international backpacking and offer fraudulent wisdom on everything from tap water  to the mating habits of hostel dwelling New Zealanders in Germany. And they'll pretend that they're somehow helping you with their friendly advice (excuse me a moment, I just have to go grab a towel, the sarcasm was dripping SO heavily that it started puddling under my computer, and since the next upgrade is on me...). And maybe in some sort of latent rebellion way they actually are helping, but if so its quite indirect.

For the time being all the inquisition is doing is instilling in you a fearful and paralyzing sense of self doubt. The most vital reaction for you to have is to ignore them. Because despite that terrifyingly high horse from which they condescend to you, they were no better off when they graduated from CMU (Cave Man U) in 1400 BCE with a degree in heavy lifting just as that new fangled wheel was flooding the cart market. Seriously. It's going to be OK.

But here's the twist. It's not enough to just know that they're wrong. You have to say it. Like out loud. And while I'll give you a free pass on confronting the doubtful d-bags of the world face-to-face, you have to at least say it to your friends. Write it. Text it. Tattoo it. Owl it. But most importantly, BELIEVE that it's ok that you don't know where you're going, and have faith that the decisions that you're making in the name of your happiness are leading you closer to doors that you can unlock, and enter, and thrive behind.

Basically, to all the people who want to ask what my plan is, here's a preview:

Argo fuck yourself. Now excuse me, I'm going to drink lots of wine.