It all started with a rock.
I've been feeling guilty about my unintended hiatus from my writing regimen I had been so diligently undergoing at school. Something about winter break just flips my motivation switch off almost completely. But I opened my writing book today and looked at some of the suggested creative tasks for this week. One task made me scoff. "Find five pretty or interesting rocks. They can be small, constant reminders of our creative consciousness." Unsure as to how a rock would spark creativity, I set out for the beach anyway. It was unseasonably warm today, and I couldn't reject the opportunity for a calming stroll (in my white Converse sneakers, no less).
I picked up a few rocks, half-heartedly tossing them back when they failed to spark my interest. Not even sure what I was looking for, I pondered the thought. Was I trying to find a particularly colorful rock? A rock with one of those rings around it? A rock shaped like a heart?
And then I found the rock.
This rock looked relatively ordinary at first. But as I looked more closely, I noticed a feature unique to this rock - it had several very faint rings that created a sort of 3D ripple effect. They looked like the rings on a tree trunk. But since the rock is sloped, the rings gradually became larger, just like real ripples in the ocean.
My dad and I used to skip rocks at Sandy Neck beach. Or I should say, he would skip rocks. Mine tended to go kerplunk immediately, but his would bounce seven or eight times, spawning vibrations that seemed to reach out to the horizon. After a certain point, the ripples were no longer visible at the surface, but I knew that they were still plowing forth beneath the realm of normal vision.
When you throw a rock, the ripples extend in every direction. It's impossible to know where one starts and another ends. It's also impossible to measure (at least without scientific equipment) the effects of each ripple on the overall environment.
Which is why I am so scared right now. And partially frustrated. Because I want to make a ripple, a splash. But how?
How hard do I throw the rock? Do I toss it as far as I can, even if that means I'm unsure where I'll land? Do I go find a paying job that will allow me to travel? Do I go to grad school now, or later? What if I make the wrong decision? What is the "right" decision? Do I even know what I want?
It seems like every potential prospect or "big idea" I have comes with some looming hurdles attached. God, why is there ALWAYS a complicated Visa process? And then there are the internal hurdles, that little voice in my head that that feeds on my self-doubt. What if I'm not good enough for that? Where will I find the money for that program? Who does this affect? And how?
I was whining to mom tonight about my doubts. But mom, I don't know what my passions are. I know what makes me happy, but it doesn't fit any job description. I would like to see an ad for a job that will let me be adventurous and give me a paycheck. Oh, and I am not an EU citizen. Amazing how many international jobs require that.
I don't want to settle. I know so many people with jobs they are unhappy with. Can I be 22 and fulfilled? I am hoping that's possible.
If I've learned anything about myself, it's that I have to get to the root of my emotions to feel even an ounce of ultimate sanity. There is always an underlying reason for panic, anxiety, doubt, etc. There are moments when I think my feelings are stemming from a certain event or idea, but when I really think about it, there is a different cause altogether. My fear at the moment, after some reflection, is due to the fact that I've never had to make a major decision (except to study abroad, but I had always known that was in the cards). Even the decision I made four years ago of which college to attend wasn't so much my decision as it was that of my parents due to the astronomical cost of higher education (and, although UMass wasn't my first choice at the time, it totally worked out and I couldn't imagine myself anywhere else).
I remember saying to my mom all those years ago, "I'm just glad the decision is made." I find that once I decide something and it's all over, I am excited to move forward. I just have to have a plan. Even if the aspects of that plan are unknown or scary, I am usually at peace when I simply have some idea of what's coming.
But right now, I don't even have a vague plan. And it is impossible to see how things will work themselves out. But I only hope that they will. I feel like I always end my posts on a positive note, even if it's all a facade and I am not positive at all. Today, I'm not going to do that. I'll admit that I feel just as panicky as I did a few hours ago. Heck, I think I'm even more anxiety-ridden now, because I just hashed out the root of my deepest fears and doubts for all the world to see.
If that rock did anything, it forced me to undergo self-reflection that I have been avoiding for the last few weeks or longer. I don't know what I want. I'm scared. I don't know which choice is the right one.
But every ripple has some sort of impact, seen or unseen. It may not become clear for a long time how my decisions will affect me. But one day I will look back at this time in my life and the questions will be answered. Hopefully.
Ultimately, each ripple leads somewhere. You just have to throw the rock.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
L'Anno Scorso
Confession: I hate New Years Eve. One reason being that there is so much pressure (at least in my mind) to be doing something fun and wild and bracing all the crazies out there when what I would really rather be doing is sitting on the couch in my living room watching a "Once Upon a Time" marathon with Joey. Fortunately (or unfortunately), that's exactly what we did. (As luck would have it, we were both sick).
I also don't really like New Years Eve because there is a weird sense that you will never get that year back. Some years (ie. 2010) I was more than happy to see twelve months go. (After talking to many people who agree with me on this fact, I have come to the conclusion that 2010 was cursed). But 2012 is one year that I would actually be happy to begin again.
A year ago today, I was sitting on a chair in Logan Airport with my mother. Not sure who was more terrified as the minutes ticked by. Even the bookstore, which would normally give me hours of entertainment, no longer proved interesting or distracting.
Sometimes, I wish that I could go and tell my past self to just stop worrying. Then, instead of freaking out the whole ride to Italy, I would have at least known everything would be okay as I was hurtling into the unknown. Such a power would leave me considerably less anxious in my daily life. But alas, life does not work that way.
But that was a lot of what my study abroad journey was about. Emotions. Not knowing. Feeling things out. I do not remember exactly what I was drinking while I waited for my flight on that day one year ago, but I do remember my anxiety and that glimmer of hopefulness that everything would be okay.
They gave us this packet on our first night in Perugia. In it was a sheet with typed advice from past students. I half-heartedly skimmed it on the first night, but found myself scoffing a bit. I was so homesick, and had trouble believing that "Your best weekends will be the ones spent in this city" or "Get to know everyone, the staff, locals...they will become amazing friends to you" or "You'll grow in ways you can't even imagine in this moment." I was a skeptic, and yet...every one of these statements proved true for me in the end.
I guess the lesson is...what do I know?
There is a quote that says something like, "People won't remember everything you do for them, but they will remember how you made them feel." Or something like that. If I applied this statement to my experience, I would modify it to "You won't remember every site or even every moment. But you will remember the emotions involved and the thrill of transformation."
For example, my first weekend trip was to Rome about three weeks into the semester. The Colosseum was awesome, but I don't find myself remembering too much about it. But I do remember the silent beauty of the Trevi Fountain, sprinting towards it when we got a glimpse of the lights and trickling water from around the corner. We didn't mean to stumble across it in that moment. But we did. And that midnight excursion proved even more enchanting when we found an abandoned piazza with its own fountain. We just ran around and basked in the magic that comes with being in a space that has seen so many ages come and go. I had never felt so free.
Putting Italy aside, I remember the Tower of London and the hilarious Beefeaters I met on my trip to England. I remember the Tube and "mind the gap" and all of that. But when I think of London, what really comes to mind is independence. It was my first time traveling completely alone, hotel and all. And it was thrilling. I only had to answer to myself.
I don't remember exactly what I did that last night in Perugia, but I do remember just how painful some of the goodbyes proved to be. And yet I didn't mind the pain so much, because with the pain came the acknowledgement that I had met people special enough to warrant such sadness. And the warm feelings come back every time I skype my roommates, or receive a message from my Italian family, or read an email from an Umbra friend.
If the last year has taught me anything, it is that I want life be an adventure. Soon I'll have a "real" job and be dealing with life after college, but I never want to lose the sense of wonder of those four months.
I started writing in this way to try to make sense of my journey. If I've learned anything else, it is that words don't do such an experience justice! Over the last year, I have tried to paint a picture of some kind. But the truth is, the painting isn't finished yet. The tremendously positive effects of my travels continue to become evident even now. Last January 5th, I was wondering how my 2013 self would be looking back at 2012. Today, I am pleased to say that I view these twelve months with only the most grateful heart. And I didn't need my future self to tell me that.
I also don't really like New Years Eve because there is a weird sense that you will never get that year back. Some years (ie. 2010) I was more than happy to see twelve months go. (After talking to many people who agree with me on this fact, I have come to the conclusion that 2010 was cursed). But 2012 is one year that I would actually be happy to begin again.
A year ago today, I was sitting on a chair in Logan Airport with my mother. Not sure who was more terrified as the minutes ticked by. Even the bookstore, which would normally give me hours of entertainment, no longer proved interesting or distracting.
Sometimes, I wish that I could go and tell my past self to just stop worrying. Then, instead of freaking out the whole ride to Italy, I would have at least known everything would be okay as I was hurtling into the unknown. Such a power would leave me considerably less anxious in my daily life. But alas, life does not work that way.
But that was a lot of what my study abroad journey was about. Emotions. Not knowing. Feeling things out. I do not remember exactly what I was drinking while I waited for my flight on that day one year ago, but I do remember my anxiety and that glimmer of hopefulness that everything would be okay.
They gave us this packet on our first night in Perugia. In it was a sheet with typed advice from past students. I half-heartedly skimmed it on the first night, but found myself scoffing a bit. I was so homesick, and had trouble believing that "Your best weekends will be the ones spent in this city" or "Get to know everyone, the staff, locals...they will become amazing friends to you" or "You'll grow in ways you can't even imagine in this moment." I was a skeptic, and yet...every one of these statements proved true for me in the end.
I guess the lesson is...what do I know?
There is a quote that says something like, "People won't remember everything you do for them, but they will remember how you made them feel." Or something like that. If I applied this statement to my experience, I would modify it to "You won't remember every site or even every moment. But you will remember the emotions involved and the thrill of transformation."
For example, my first weekend trip was to Rome about three weeks into the semester. The Colosseum was awesome, but I don't find myself remembering too much about it. But I do remember the silent beauty of the Trevi Fountain, sprinting towards it when we got a glimpse of the lights and trickling water from around the corner. We didn't mean to stumble across it in that moment. But we did. And that midnight excursion proved even more enchanting when we found an abandoned piazza with its own fountain. We just ran around and basked in the magic that comes with being in a space that has seen so many ages come and go. I had never felt so free.
Putting Italy aside, I remember the Tower of London and the hilarious Beefeaters I met on my trip to England. I remember the Tube and "mind the gap" and all of that. But when I think of London, what really comes to mind is independence. It was my first time traveling completely alone, hotel and all. And it was thrilling. I only had to answer to myself.
I don't remember exactly what I did that last night in Perugia, but I do remember just how painful some of the goodbyes proved to be. And yet I didn't mind the pain so much, because with the pain came the acknowledgement that I had met people special enough to warrant such sadness. And the warm feelings come back every time I skype my roommates, or receive a message from my Italian family, or read an email from an Umbra friend.
If the last year has taught me anything, it is that I want life be an adventure. Soon I'll have a "real" job and be dealing with life after college, but I never want to lose the sense of wonder of those four months.
I started writing in this way to try to make sense of my journey. If I've learned anything else, it is that words don't do such an experience justice! Over the last year, I have tried to paint a picture of some kind. But the truth is, the painting isn't finished yet. The tremendously positive effects of my travels continue to become evident even now. Last January 5th, I was wondering how my 2013 self would be looking back at 2012. Today, I am pleased to say that I view these twelve months with only the most grateful heart. And I didn't need my future self to tell me that.
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