Losing sight

Alright, so maybe I set expectations a bit high when I decided that I would start writing again on a daily basis.

Jamie and I will depart for London in ONE week. I've been talking to various friends lately who we'll be meeting up with, and I'm so excited to see all of them and be back in the city I adore.

At this rate, I'll visit London once a year. My first visit to London -- also my first overseas trip -- was in December 2004, when Alex (who had just moved there a few months prior) was the only person I knew in England. Now, I'm returning for the third time in three years, and I'll be visiting nearly a dozen friends. In addition to the number of people I know, my love for the city has grown significantly. I'm inextricably drawn to London (I mean, it's obvious why I love London, but I really, really, really LOVE London). I hope that somehow, in the future, I'll figure out a way to return for an extended period of time.

Speaking of goals, an editorial that I wrote was published in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution last week. I'd promised myself that I would get an article published in the AJC before I graduated, and I was close to giving up on the goal. Ironically, I sort of regret submitting the piece -- it had many flaws, I now realize -- but it was still a wonderful moment to see my byline, photo, and original words on the editorial page.

The experience made me understand that not everyone will agree with my opinions. I'm beginning to love writing editorials, and can even envision a later career as an editorial writer, but I certainly need to be more firm and trusting in my opinions. When people devalue themselves, like I tend to do from time to time, it's quite easy for critics to hurt them.

On a similar note, in my editorial writing class on Monday we discussed whether journalists had the ability to affect the greater good through their reporting. I enthusiastically believe that we can, but so many of my peers seemed ambivalent or unsure of a journalist's power. In fact, one of the students said that her life was too important to worry about making the world a better place ... an idea I felt was completely backwards and somewhat troubling. What if everyone felt that way?

The conversation got me thinking afterwards, and only strengthened my desire to affect change. I often feel like I'm waiting for that moment, when all of the amazing opportunities I have had, and all of the idealistic dreams I do have, finally come together and reveal to me what I'm meant to do in the present. Lately, I've felt like I've been given so much, but haven't done much with it all ... in the long run, what difference have I made?

And, now I'm about to embark on yet another trip. One that probably won't benefit anyone but me. Is that completely selfish?

Reason #1 to smile

Less than a month remains until Jamie and I leave for London. The trip was originally prompted by a friend of mine who now lives in New York. Unfortunately, due to various circumstances, she can't come. I feel a bit guilty for going ahead with plans without her, and I'm certainly indebted to her for encouraging the trip in the first place.

Now that Jamie's coming, however, I'm ecstatic. I quickly fell in love with traveling to other countries and knew that whoever I would up with would have to understand that passion. To have Jamie not only understand but share that same passion is even better.

This trip will be exciting for so many reasons that I'm sure I'll discuss within the next few weeks. The exciting reason that's most on my mind lately, however, is seeing my cousin Kerry at Nottingham University, a potential graduate school which we both toured together last year. Kerry is an absolute inspiration in my life and another person who's motivated me to continue to get out and see the world (or, at least, to keep returning to England). Talking with her about the future rejuvenates me, and I can't wait to see her in person again.

Even better, she'll be able to meet Jamie. I'm such a lucky girl -- I need to stop worrying and realize that more often. I do wish I was more eloquent, though. Maybe tomorrow I'll write a more thoughtful entry.

Pause

In a contemplative mood again today. Building upon yesterday's thoughts about life's priorities, I spent this morning wandering around downtown, taking some time for myself and my thoughts. I was pleased to discover that my camera was in my backpack, and tried to look at the city with fresh eyes.

Jamie and I went to Ru San's last night to celebrate our nine-month anniversary with a heaping platter of sushi. The outing was very impromptu, and couldn't have been better. We talked about the future and how content we were with each other. Just months from graduation, life after school is a bit daunting for each of us right now. Knowing that you can depend on someone to be there -- that you have such a loving and supportive force in your life -- is beyond comforting, though. It's empowering.

We spent a good portion of the meal talking about our travel plans together, in the near and far future. The conversation was intoxicating, and we both realized that it felt like we were miles away, not sitting in Atlanta's cheapest sushi joint. It was exhilarating, to pause and discover that you're on the cusp of major life changes.

Still glowing from the previous night's mood, I walked aimlessly through the city today, appreciating the opportunity to relax and reflect on all I had to be grateful for. In some ways, it seemed like I was looking at everything with fresh eyes. I can certainly say that I've never pictured the America's Mart building like this:



Next week already feels like it will be a fresh start. The beauty of getting so overwhelmed is that the stress eventually dissipates. Granted, I had to escape responsibility for a few days, but the break was worth it. I need to stop dreading now and romanticizing the future, and realize that it's all connected. So, here's to the present. Here's to making my lofty dreams a reality.

Back in the Groove -- of blogging at least

It's been a bizarre week thus far. I've been ditching fun for work -- the height of which occurred when I gave up my Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs concert ticket for a night of working on my 25-page research paper -- yet I've been ditching class for work, too. But, today, now that the rough draft of my paper is completed and turned in, I skipped virtually all responsibilities for nothing. I literally have done nothing today. I slept in with Jamie, left his apartment to grab a bagel, returned to watch Shaun of the Dead, and skipped both my classes for the day. Took MARTA home only to collapse in an armchair and watch more mindless television. The only productive thing I've got planned for the day is an Atlanta Press Club event (read: networking opportunity) at the Commerce Club this evening. And, a shower. At this rate, even a shower's productive.

I'm writing about this because a) I've been meaning to begin writing in this blog on a regular basis again, and such an uneventful day is rare and a great excuse to begin writing, and b) this week has made me think a lot about priorities and what's really important in my life and what should be important in my life. It seems that life should be dictated by what makes us happiest, but I don't know anyone who truly functions life that. So much of life is determined by responsibility.

I suppose none of this is ground-breaking or even interesting. I'm just aware of how much life has changed since I came home from London -- less than a year ago. When I was at Middlesex, so much of my life was dictated by what made me happy, and I was the healthiest (effortlessly thinnest) and most stress-free that I can ever remember being. I still had my share of responsibilities and obligations (I can still remember the closeness I felt to the children I volunteered with), but only to myself. I felt no need to impress professors or acquaintances. I didn't have a boyfriend, or a job (or two jobs, for that matter), or little things to worry about, like parking my car in a safe location or paying bills. Granted, my life overseas wasn't realistic in the least. It was a long, extended vacation.

I'm feeling rather burnt out lately. Surprise, I know. The burden of stress has become so cumbersome that, instead of making myself sick over it, I've taken the escapist route and shirked all responsibilities.

Anyway, it's just a quick phase, I'm sure. It's not the first time I've reacted to stress and responsibility this way. In addition to getting back into the swing of things, I sincerely hope I'll be able to someday figure out how to avoid being over-stressed all together. That'd be a miracle, indeed.

Well, what about Atlanta?

My last fall semester of college is already in full swing. It's hard to believe that, a year ago, I was backpacking my way across France and Spain, eager for my semester at Middlesex to begin. I keep catching myself saying, "Last semester, I was in London ..." It truly doesn't seem like so much time has passed.

Before this school year officially began, Jamie and I decided to be tourists in our home city for a day. We both had saved up money for a well-deserved trip, but couldn't coordinate our schedules to make one happen. So, we opted for a day of frivolous fun in Atlanta instead.

We braved the crowds at the massive Georgia Aquarium, were awed and inspired during a tour at the CNN Center, and enjoyed the gorgeous view from our hotel room on the 55th floor of the Westin. Complete with drinks at the Sundial with token double-date couple Julian and Geoff, the day was just as relaxing and fun as we'd hoped for.

By simply looking at Atlanta from an outsider's perspective, I was fortunately reminded of its charms. I was also reminded of how easily I can be swayed to believe that I belong in a certain city. While I still strongly feel that I belong in New York and/or London, my tourist day in Atlanta served as a reminder that things won't magically be better simply because I'm living in a different city. As with many things in life, it's all in how one looks at it.

But, now, it's back to yet another semester of school. I am certainly ready to be done with Georgia State. While classes, and the academic experience overall, have been disappointing to say the least, I'm happy with what I have gained from college or, at least, the past three years. I feel confident and eager about my future.

Speaking of the future, there may be some major plans on the horizon that involve travel. Big surprise. I'm going to think about it for awhile, let some time pass, and then I may make some official decisions.

Oh, and, last thing: Jamie's coming to London with me in November. Hooray. I'm so thrilled that he loves London (nearly) as much as I do.

A Lesson to Remember

Before I get into feelings and whatnot, I have some big news: I recently bought a plane ticket to London and will be returning to my beloved overseas home during Thanksgiving break. I've alerted my friends from Middlesex as well as my second-cousin Kerry, who will be in the midst of one year of graduate school at Nottingham University.

This trip is serendipitous for so many reasons, namely that the plane tickets weren't too expensive, that I get to visit Kerry at the school we first toured together nearly a year ago, and that I will be back home in time for Thanksgiving dinner with the family. I am absolutely thrilled about the prospect of returning to England. I miss being there so much.

One thing I hope the trip will remind me of is the overwhelming lack of stress that I enjoyed. Since high school, once I gave up being flirty and ditzy with the boys, I have been an extremely motivated person. That motivation has led to many wonderful opportunities -- four summers at The Carter Center, an all-expense-paid trip to Palestine, and solo backpacking across France and Europe, for example -- but it has also left me stressed out, alienated from my peers, and feeling far too old for my age. It's time I found a happy balance.

And thus I've set a goal for myself: To stop worrying about the future and enjoy the present. I spent five months unemployed in London, and don't feel like I wasted a bit of time. I was happy, relaxed, confident, and completely at peace with myself. If anything, the experience prepared me more for the future than any of the classes I've taken or jobs I've stressed over. Money may still worry me, only because I constantly want to travel somewhere new.

I'm back. Ready to embrace the world once again.

Lost

It occured to me today that I've been in Atlanta now for a longer period of time than I was overseas. While there have been things to celebrate and be happy about, being back home has been largely lackluster and, if I may be a bit melodramatic, somewhat depressing.

Things have been especially tough lately. My grandfather from Texas passed away rather suddenly last month and I returned home only to be greeted by the news that my dear grandmother in Atlanta was dying of cancer. She died last week, and coming to terms with the loss is still difficult. Within just one month, I lost my two remaining biological grandparents. Although they were both old and not in the best of health, their deaths seemed to come so fast, so unexpectedly. When I stop and think about the fact that they are actually gone and that family summer vacations will never be the same, my mind starts to spin. I feel like I had so much left to learn from them and so much gratitude left to give. I can only hope that they knew how much I loved them.

I guess the toughest part about dealing with both losses is that there are now two less people alive that truly care about me. It's a selfish thought I guess, but it's nice to know that you're extremely special to someone. I was that special someone to both of my grandparents. Now that they're gone, I'm faced with the reality that I'm just not that special to many people.

I've been feeling extremely alone lately. Due to some events beyond my control when I was in London, I have lost touch with some very close friends of mine and, by default, with friends I knew through them. Fortunately, I moved into a new house with wonderful roommates, but, sadly, because I tend to push people away in times of sadness and engulf myself in work, it's the sad truth that they are some of my only friends. I am certainly thankful to have Jamie; without him, I'm not sure how I could have managed the grief of this summer so far.

Anyway, this post isn't really travel-related, it's just something I needed to write. I guess, in a way, it's also a pitiful cry for help since I'm feeling quite lost and alone right now. Unfortunately, no one really reads this blog any more. This may be a blessing in disguise, as I need to stop looking to others for answers. I know that, in terms of self-esteem and personal happiness, only I can fix my own problems.

I guess there is a travel tie-in: I can't stop thinking about London. I have fond memories of how carefree I was, how I made friends so effortlessly and was a fun person to hang out with. For once in my life, I actually enjoyed being single, and I cherished every moment of freedom and independence. I wish I could find that Katie again. I really enjoyed life when she was around.

New York, Long Overdue

I spent three fantastic, jam-packed days in New York City last month. It was my first time there, my first encounter with the city that, at the naïve and optimistic age of 15, I swore I was destined for. I was worried that my expectations were too high, that seven years of pining for the Big Apple would leave me disappointed once I finally arrived. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. Perhaps it was the company, or the (mostly) fantastic weather, or simply the lack of stress resulting from the end of a semester and a job; whatever the case, my short experience in New York couldn’t have been better.

Rather than recount a play-by-play of our activities, I’d instead like to capture the spirit of the city. I don’t think that’s easily done. In fact, authors, musicians and artists have attempted to do so over and over again. Magazines like The New Yorker, for instance, constantly publish articles that attempt to accurate describe some aspect of the city. Many movies and television shows (guilty pleasure Sex and the City comes to mind) treat New York as an unofficial character, as important to the plot and mood as the leading role. Yes, the spirit and charm of New York is nearly impossible to describe. It’s busy and big and loud and exciting and comfortable and serene and welcoming and impersonal all at once. It's whatever you want it to be.

To me, above anything else, New York is inspiring. New York is the pathway to a future I’m constantly envisioning and revising in my head. I felt alive and encouraged there, and that’s exactly how I want to feel when I move there and embark on my career. I consider New York the best place to begin a career. Sure, money will be tight, and finding a place in the job market will be tough, but it’s better to challenge myself with such obstacles now than years later when I’m worn out and jaded. As I learned long ago as a frustrated soccer player, “if it doesn’t kill you, it only makes you stronger.”

For me, New York is just the beginning. I can’t wait to return. For good.

Distance

"Distance has no way of making love understandable."

--"Radio Cure," Wilco

It's been a little over three months since I've been back in the States and so much has changed. London (and every place I visited) seems like a distant memory, which is somewhat unsettling for me. Honestly, being in London felt so real and permanent while I was there. I knew that I would be leaving soon, of course, but the everyday mundane things--going to the grocery store or catching the same bus in the morning--made the fact that I was living there so undeniable.

Anyway, I'm back in Atlanta living in a new house, enjoying a new relationship and spending my time at a new internship. My life has changed drastically since the plane landed at Hartsfield in December and I thought: Will I ever be truly happy here again? I'm now happily in love, which, I believe is one of the quickest and most effective ways to turn everything in your life upside down and completely change your plans for the future.

So it turns out that one of the most beneficial things about going to London was realizing how amazing life can be if I stop worrying about it. Once I returned home, it only took me a month to decide to date my best friend, with whom I had been refusing a relationship for two years prior. And, although it may be premature to say so, it's been one of the best decisions I've ever made.

Overall, I feel more mature and settled as of late. I'm beginning to reach a point where I'm really satisfied with how life has turned out so far, which is a good place to be pre-graduation (I still have a year, but I tend to worry far ahead of time). I constantly felt happy in London and fortunate to have such a blessed life and that, thankfully, is something I brought home with me.

And, just for the record, I'm planning to make my second return trip to London within the next year.

Being Mrs. Brown

The first book I that I fell in love with was The Hours, written by Michael Cunningham. It opened my mind to so many literary possibilities, and I was fascinated by the deftness with which the separate storylines were eventually connected. Since I first read The Hours, I have been captivated (and, likewise, bored) by endless novels and stories. As with many things in life, though, I find myself inextricably attached to that first truly enlightening literary experience. I have since read the book multiple times and my fascination never seems to lessen.

My favorite character in The Hours is Mrs. Brown, because her lifestyle is one I fear I could easily fall into. Though she was once a young bright intellectual, she is now nothing more than a housewife, adored by her young son and dull husband. Mrs. Brown’s greatest pleasure during the day has nothing to do with her family or home – she lives for the pauses in her routine in which she can slip into the comforts of a good book.

After ruining a birthday cake for her husband, Mrs. Brown grows increasingly upset, wanting nothing more than to escape reality for a while. She leaves her son with a neighbor and a hurried excuse and checks into a hotel room to be alone for a few hours. She desperately wants to read Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, the book having beckoned to her all morning. The idea seems irrational and foolish, yet the guilty pleasure of reading in such a neutral place, away from everything and everyone that oppresses her, makes Mrs. Brown dizzy with excitement.

She is so far away from her life. It was so easy.

It seems, somehow, that she has left her own world and entered the realm of the book. Nothing, of course, could be further from Mrs. Dalloway’s London than this turquoise hotel room, and yet she imagines that Virginia Woolf herself, the drowned woman, the genius, might in death inhabit a place not unlike this one. She laughs, quietly, to herself. Please, God, she says silently, let heaven be something better than a room at the Normandy. Heaven would be better furnished, it would be brighter and grander, but it might in fact contain some measure of this hushed remove, this utter absence inside the continuing world. Having this room to herself seems both prim and whorish. She is safe here. She could do anything she wanted to, anything at all. She is somehow like a newlywed, reclining in her chamber, waiting for … not her husband, or any other man. For someone. For something.

The Hours, p150-151.

Today I was like Mrs. Brown. I was unpredictable, following the urging of my feelings rather than the usual common sense. I dressed exactly how I wanted to, ignoring the nagging warning: but you will look different. In class, I unreservedly voiced my opinions and ideas, emboldened by the professor’s request to not censor ourselves. Leaving the building, I started to walk, with no clear direction. I breathed in the day – still young – and felt thankful for my life. I walked to the MARTA station and, instead of returning home, took the northbound train, once again unsure as to where I would wind up. Finally convincing myself to enjoy the unseasonably-warm weather, I strolled around Midtown, lost in a swirl of thoughts.

Ultimately, I ended up at the High Museum of Art. Like Mrs. Brown’s hotel room, I paid the museum’s overpriced admission in order to escape the outside world. I was curious to see the museum’s new addition as well as the current exhibition. Most of all, though, I wanted to return to a museum I’ve grown up in and – following dozens of visits to museums across Europe – see what the experience felt like. It was a magnificent idea.

I visit museums in order to retreat into my mind, to be silent and alone and let my oft-repressed feelings respond to the artwork that speaks so loudly. Today, I found that perfect retreat. The High was mostly empty, a welcome contrast to the over-crowded museums listed in every London guidebook. The few patrons were predominantly schoolchildren, whose giggles and boisterous whispers I didn’t mind. It was refreshing to be in a room full of curious and excited kids. I wondered why it is necessary to be quiet around artwork in the first place. Besides the students, there were some elderly groups and couples and a handful of people, like me, who came alone and often stood in front of a painting, entranced, until they eventually pulled themselves away and were drawn towards another.

I spent hours at the High visiting familiar paintings and statues, surprised at how often it seemed like I was seeing them for the first time. Other pieces, however, held special memories for me. I could hear my father’s voice, pointing out every possible detail and symbol in a complex painting, and still remembered the childhood fear that I could never retain so much information as he did.

Unsystematically wandering from room to room, I loved the fact that I could visit the museum on a random afternoon, accompanied only by the young, the old, and a few kindred spirits. Enjoy this while you can, I lectured myself, bitterly aware of the fact that, sooner or later, responsibilities will continuously enter my life. Whether a job, a death, a birth, a marriage, a divorce, a home, a family, a reputation, or a promise, the responsibilities will pile up year after year, until their collective pressure will weigh down so heavily on me that I will eventually forget the days that I would escape to the museum, forget the feeling of freedom which I treasured.

But for now I am a bright college student, like a young Mrs. Brown, who wants nothing more than to be enveloped by a good book. My responsibilities are limited, and I am as independent as I ever will be. I am a woman, a daughter, a friend and a dreamer. I am unattached, uncertain, inspired, excited, frightened, adventurous, teachable, wise, and growing. I am free.