Procrastination, Surprises, and Waves

Somehow finals week is right around the corner, and here I am writing instead of pretending to do the horrifying homework in front of me. The amount of work I have to do in the next nine days is so daunting I can do nothing other than think about all things apart from school. The ever-feared Organic Chemistry is almost over, terribly unnecessary Physics is almost complete, and I am about halfway done with my undergraduate degree. Life is flashing before my eyes, and contrary to what you would think, I am fully aware of it. Weeks feel like days, and months feel like weeks. How disproportionate, right? 

It seems the more work I have to do, my brain gets exponentially more unorganized. My writing however gets more organized. Just kidding, good luck following my train of thought. 

Usually I procrastinate like a boss and then right at the end I pull it together. I strangely pride myself in sliding by with impressive grades for the situation I got myself into, and swearing I’ll do it different next semester. However after the year of academic hell I’ve been running through, I’m beginning to doubt I have it in me to pull it all together. That takes such a push of effort, and I’m running out of steam, fast. Part of me is so used to having tremendous piles of homework looming over my head that it no longer instills the drive it once did. There is no test, no paper, and no part of an undergraduate degree that could scare me into working hard earlier than I have to. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. What doesn’t make you drop out makes you smarter? I wish.

In the midst of the craziness of ending the school year, I have done the unthinkable, and gotten myself into a relationship. That word made me cringe for a long time. A few of the texts that have been lighting up my phone since this said relationship went on Facebook include little gems like, “The girl who could not be tied down is now Facebook official?? I guess he really is special”. I laughed over text and told the sender of that he couldn’t be that surprised; he was really that shocked.

Hopefully that successfully conveys how most of my friends reacted to my new relationship. I have run from commitment for months, enjoying being carefree and reporting to no one. Underneath my genuine carefree attitude that carried on for months, an internal wrestle match started, in which I began to desire normal and stable, but enjoyed the strength of being a woman in a man’s game of not wanting commitment.

Ever so quickly, this one snuck up on me. Before I could even surprise myself, I surprised everyone else with a real relationship. This one I want to do right, hopefully with more success than doing my homework next semester. I’m taking my lessons in honesty and in breaking hearts, and attempting some wisdom ahead of time. But let’s be real, I attempt a lot of things. Lady luck hates me.

A while ago I hinted at a post about about learning to surf. It has also been six weeks since my last post. In other words, life has been out of hand and I haven’t been writing. What I’m coming to realize is that that also means I’m not processing as much. The past six weeks have been a lull in schoolwork and a surge of life. I have embraced this few week break from the hammer of homework open heartedly, living it up with the most free time I’ve had since freshman year. Life comes in waves like this. Unfortunately, one can never be prepared for the worst ones.

As with life, one can only be so prepared for something as big and unpredictable as the ocean. Surfing puts you right out in the middle of that unfamiliarity, with sets of waves often large enough to knock you under water for what seems like hours. The biggest obstacle in learning to surf for me was the waves themselves. The first time I went in the water, I was absolutely terrified of these four-foot waves that I couldn’t read at all. Four feet doesn’t sound too bad, right? Wrong. When you’re lying down on a board, four-feet looms over your head like a manager on a power trip. I couldn’t paddle away from them, I couldn’t stop them, and for that first hour, nowhere felt safe. I spent at least the first two weeks out in the water just letting the waves roll under me, figuring out when they were about to crash on my head, and when I was relatively safe. Surfing scared me more than anything I’d ever done, so I had to keep doing it. I was strangely fearful of looking back and knowing I was too scared to do something well.

I still can’t really surf, but I try to surf a few times a week. The waves are no longer terrifying, and instead relaxing and humbling. They are out of my control and I can only know so much about them. Learning to surf has taught me two important lessons:

1.     Face your fears. There is no feeling better than conquering something that had the potential to limit you forever.

2.     Life is like waves; you can only prepare yourself to an extent. Learn what you can, let them roll under you when they’re too big, and don’t take your eyes off of what is to come.

All in all: Procrastination leads to revelation, surprises are fun (never let predictable be in your self-description), and waves are incredible. 

Oversimplification

It feels a little bit like getting multiple piercings, with a thick needle on a thick piece of skin, and right on top your bones. The body responds to pain with a flood of endorphins, a chemical that is involved in excitement. In search for this flood of endorphins underlies some really crazy actions. For some however, it leads to tattoos. The pain of getting my first tattoo on my ribs yesterday was strangely bearable. It was indeed quite painful, but I felt like I could endure it for quite a long time. Tattoos are permanent; I will forever have Greek lettering on my ribs. I chose the word agape, meaning perfect, unconditional love. Not only is love the most important aspect of life, but unconditional love is the highest meaning, and the only truly permanent aspect of an identity. I know I hinted at a post about surfing, but I haven’t stood up yet, so as soon as I accomplish that goal some time after my fresh tattoo heals, that post will come and rock. Oversimplification is not a simple word at all, ironic.

Although everything in life, apart from unconditional love, is at risk of changing, I am a firm believer that life goes on and one should never dwell, however actions have consequences. In the process of simplifying life, I have forgotten this fact. Life is as simple as you let it be but I have let it be too simple. In the midst of this care-free lifestyle, I left out a very important side of friendships and relations; put yourself in others’ shoes. It is so important to live day by day, however that does not mean without regard for those you are blessed to spend time with.  

Honesty is the biggest form of respect you can give. When being honest with anyone, it demonstrates the magnitude of the value you have for him or her. It also demonstrates how much you are willing to put him or her first. This lesson is drilled into your mind all growing up, yet somehow it never ceases to escape me in a shortage for words. With my “who cares?” attitude in full swing, I also let this slip my mind recently. In a nutshell I have managed to live selfishly and dishonestly in a friendship, all at the expense of another person. I’m a winner if you haven’t picked that up yet.

As I mentioned before, no event should ever be regretted because if you have taken a lesson from it, it was worth it. However sometimes, especially for me, shit hits the fan and that’s easier said than done. Taking your own advice seems to be marginally harder than I thought as well, but here I am biting the crap out of my nails (figuratively), trying to smile sweetly at the bitter lessons I’m learning as I fumble through these college years.

Carpe Diem, carefully. The saying should really go like this, “Carpe Diem, with others in mind, always being honest”. 

"Don't look back in anger, I heard you say"

Yes, the title of this is from a Rock Band song. I am a die-hard Rock Band fan. The drums are my forte, but at the expense of tooting my own horn, I am above average at guitar and singing. Rock Band was even on my top five things I missed my freshman year of college, preceded only by siblings, home-cooked food, and Celicia (see earlier posts for an introduction to my charming car). At least I am skilled at something in life, a video game.

I haven’t written a post on here in while, however I’ve started several that never got finished and probably never will. I’m discovering I write best when I have something to sort out in my head. Sitting here trying to communicate, organize, and put words to everything in my obscure, fast mind is oddly therapeutic. I should be studying for my two exams next week, Organic Chemistry (O-Chem) and Genetics on back-to-back class days, however instead there’s a lot on my mind about nothing academic. Another few lessons are in the making, from determination and facing fears in learning to surf (next post preview!) to boys it has been an interesting month. Good update from last post: as I was hoping, the big man upstairs provided. My tax return is more than enough to live off of for the rest of the semester. I can take money out of my worries with a paid off credit card and a cushion to leave out of my thoughts.

True confession: I make up words to songs and rarely get caught. I got caught Tuesday. It was awkward.

No one can truly prepare you for how much you will change in your late teens to early twenties. Everyone says that, so I accept how cliché I’m sure I just sounded and let’s move forwards. The decisions we make daily, the people we surround ourselves with, and the fortunate (or unfortunate) happenings of life, make up an identity. Psychology has spent countless studies on identity and confidence; for example Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs states that one can become “self-actualized” when they have met all the needs of an identity. Although each of the ideas listed for this self-actualization are very important, and some I do consider vital, I’m realizing people simply grow. I grow. God gave us an incredible ability to think, reason, and decide for a purpose and a big part of that reasoning is maturity.  

I have never met a mature person that had yet to crash and burn. In fact, the people I look up to most for wisdom and maturity fought, often fighting themselves. What most people call mistakes are the most important learning incidents. We all have that forehead slapping moment where we made a hasty decision, didn’t make a decision at all, or simply evaluated wrong. However it is at that moment that we slap our foreheads, that we will then evaluate differently next time. This is all we can be thankful for and expect from ourselves.  

I don’t believe in regrets, but this is no excuse to make all the intentional “mistakes” your heart (or head) desires. In making decisions, approach with your best judgment, be honest with yourself, and prayerfully consider all options. If at one time, you considered a decision to be the best one, you cannot disrespect that later. Take the lessons and move forwards.  

The Grass Is Always Greener... If You Water It.

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written anything, this is partially due to business of starting a new semester, and partially due to the fact that nothing has struck me as writeable lately. However recent developments in a friend’s old (and terribly unhealthy) relationship, a new job I quit a day later (that’s a story in itself), and a few odd weekends, my life has once again returned to just as quirky as last semester.

I thought I was ready to return the life of a restaurant worker when this semester started, mostly because I am extra-broke, meaning more broke than usual; however I tricked myself, typical. The lure of free-flowing waitress cash led me to a new restaurant in Santa Barbara last Saturday night. I also tricked myself into thinking I was ready to handle another awful boss, throwback to my senior year of high school working under an insecure, power thriving, passive aggressive Spanish chef with a tendency to cry and make my life miserable. The man interviewing me from this new restaurant reminded me creepily much of this woman from my authority-issue years, with his broken English, bossy nature, and excellent food creating skills. After starting a night at this new restaurant and finding out you cannot serve alcohol in California until you are 21 (18 in Washington), and therefore waitress at all under 21, I realized I was not ready to again sacrifice all my free time for this free-flowing cash. After an awkward phone call explaining why it simply was not a good fit for me to continue to train there, when I really just hated the boss and wanted more money than I was going to make, I returned to my peculiar nannying job. Let me rephrase that; I thought I returned to my nannying job. I got a phone call two days later letting me know that the family would like me for different days of the week. I have yet to figure out what other days those are or when else I can fit some crazy kiddos into my crazy nerdy lab schedule. For now, I have no expected income, a dwindling bank account, and some faith that the Big Man Upstairs is going to make something happen.

While I was sitting through an exceptionally long church service this morning about interpretation of the bible, my mind wandered (oops) to interpreting situations. As shown by many statistics, two people can watch an incident and each walk away with a different perception of the same happening. Recognizing, understanding, and respecting that other’s past and identity shape even current interpretation of life is a profound social skill. However this post is not about social interactions, nor is it about respecting the perspective of others; it is instead about learning your own perspective. Your unique perspective significantly shapes your reaction to every day interactions, and most importantly, life’s most difficult situations.

The measure of a strong person is not how they carry out every day actions, but instead how they respond to being stressed and stretched. Part of life is dealing with situations we would like to opt out of but fortunately (yes I meant fortunately) we cannot, consequently shaping the strong into stronger, and exposing the weak as quitters. Tying one’s perspective into a strong person, I think you have a choice as to how you face these difficult situations. In the storm of a hard time, no matter one’s past influence on current perspective, one has a choice as to how he or she responds the situation. You have control over your perspective. I would encourage all that are facing a difficult situation to choose to conquer.  

A few things I realized today: Celicia (my car, see previous posts for an explanation for her difficult life) is older than most of my friends (DOB circa 1990). She is a little hyperactive, revving up non-stop in neutral. I have yet to make the sign to stick to my window saying, “No, sorry, I don’t want to race you, my car just sucks that bad”. On one hand, I have a $600 car that could break down any moment, sucking gas, and embarrassing me on a daily basis. On another hand I have no car payments, cheap insurance, and a way to get around with relatively good gas mileage. In someone’s eyes (occasionally my own), I am drowning in student loan debt, pinching pennies, all for some form of what America calls education right now. However, I am choosing to take the chance to pursue my dream of being a doctor, learning lessons such as how to work hard, picking up a few social skills at college, and making some friendships I hope last until I stop breathing one day.

Life is never easy, if you think it is no one likes you and you don’t know it. Grab this beautifully difficult life by the ears and say, “I’m going to show you what I’m made of”. Good luck finding life’s ears. Just kidding, that’s all hypothetical. Recognize your perspective on life; be thankful for the lessons you take away from the most difficult days, and never stop counting your blessings. No one feels like they have everything, but in truth you have everything you need if you let it be all you need. 

Fortunate Cole

Sadly I will not be telling you just yet what the name of this post means, but it is a pretty important part to why I feel like writing at 3am on a Monday night. Sometimes writing brings a pinch of logic to my innately restless mind. In light of everyone making their resolutions for the year, I have resolved to not make any. I hope you see the irony in that because I giggled to myself writing it. Instead of thinking about what I will be doing differently this year compared to 2011, just how much my life has changed in the past year is on my mind. One year ago today I was in a long-term relationship, half way through my freshman year of college, forcefully comfortable and fearful of what was to come. I wanted out of my long relationship for a while deep inside, but was too afraid of change to even be honest enough with myself to get out of the relationship. One year ago today, I was unknowingly waist-high in one of the biggest changes I may ever go through, the transformation into a lover of change.

This morning when I woke up, or this afternoon I sadly admit, I sat on the phone with my good friend from school Annabelle for about 45 minutes. She loves when I mention her on here. We talked a little about our break so far, and a little more about different this next semester will be from the one that just ended. I will have a little less of an academic load comparatively, she is less than a month out of a ten-month relationship, and some of our friends have returned from taking time abroad. It took me until about half-way through the day (around dinnertime for me, gross) to realize what I said to Annabelle this morning of significance in relation to change in my life. “Yes, this semester will be different, but I love change.”

I have come to strangely love the success of sticking out a change, and the benefits of being uncomfortable. Just walking by an outdoor store in the mall makes me want to grab my backpack, throw on some layers, and adventure somewhere unfamiliar. I no longer fear change, but instead crave it. Somehow learning to live in the moment, without looking too far ahead at all, slightly satisfies this odd desire for the unfamiliar.

This is on my mind tonight because I am leading a double life, but not in the way you may be thinking. Each life knows of the other, and they both have shaped me an incredible amount into the one person that I am, and still becoming, but my lives will never meet each other face to face. Pieces intertwine, but the wholes of the lives stay separate with those pieces reaching across many miles lightly overlapping. My friends in Santa Barbara have heard the many stories of my wonderful friends I have grown up with, and all of our adventures. The opposite is also true of my friends I have grown up with. Although my environment, and the people that fill it, change so often, I have thankfully learned how to keep my identity in that transition. However, as the days draw to a close for the three-week stretch of the school year I spend in Seattle, I can’t help but feel a raw mixture of emotions. Often people use that phrase when they don’t want to be honest with themselves about one side of their mixture, but I truly feel both excited for the upcoming semester, and slightly saddened to again leave the people I love so much here for another jaunt of time.

The only reason I feel this mixture is because of the summer I spent here in Seattle. My mother demanded I return to Seattle for the summer after my first year of college; however I felt so strongly I had left it for good that I almost broke her heart for a summer in Santa Barbara. I had an apartment in mind in Santa Barbara with my friends, and would have had no trouble finding a restaurant job for the summer. Both the fear of hurting my family and the sheer stupidity of passing up a job in Seattle I knew I had, and free living at home, led me to Seattle for the best summer of my life. Nothing was planned, except for my backpacking trip and family vacation, and every day was overflowing with surprises. I knew my work schedule week to week, but I knew nothing of each day as it began. Spare hours were filled with some hikes, a great boy, and relaxing time with friends. If I had not been required to return this past summer, I would have never truly returned and made new roots in California. 

Reflecting on just how content I felt all summer reminds me how important not fearing in thinking of tomorrow is. Live in today alone. On Saturday I will again leave my wonderful life here in Seattle, in exchange for a few more months of another incredible life in one of the coolest cities in the US. I must be thankful for each day in both of my lives, and take the lessons between the two. The only way I do not feel more sad than excited for the repeated transition is when I remind myself to live in today. Tomorrow will come, and I have never ended a day wishing the day never happened. Thankful does not suffice to describe my emotions towards every day I spend in Seattle with these precious people, and exactly the same is true for my exciting, difficult, and spontaneous college life in Santa Barbara.

Life is too short to hold back. Take on each day seizing every opportunity, not worrying about tomorrow. Pray when you feel like you should, say yes leaning on intuition, and be honest with yourself. Also, don’t make my recurring mistake; take more pictures to look back on.