Concept:
Me, soaring high among the clouds, my soul and body feeling light as a feather.
My responsibility is my duty to protect my world, but for the moment, I cannot feel its weight. In its place, I get a whiff of true, exalted freedom in the breeze that lifts me off and away from the ground.
I float back down to meet my friends, those with which I share the unbreakable bonds of countless shared adventures and incredible tales. My love for them fills my heart and though my feet are on the ground, my heart is still in the sky.
Monday, November 28, 2016
Monday, November 14, 2016
The First One
You spend the last three years of your life helping your two best friends fight through their anxiety you don't even realize you're developing it yourself.
The first time you realize, of course, just has to be in the middle of a Bart car during the Monday morning commute.
Your heart starts to rise into your throat and you try to follow a guided breathing exercise you find on the Internet, but it cuts out as you pass through the Lake Merritt station.
It works - for a minute and a half. Suddenly, you break into a sweat, your vision goes foggy around the edges, and you fade through varying levels of consciousness. Your head and stomach feel like they're going for loop de loops on the Medusa you rode 8 times on your 8th grade end of year trip to Six Flags.
Your knees give out and you sit, like a fool, among at least a hundred slightly irritated, yet unbothered Silicon Valley worker bees.
It seems so out of place - you spend your life in crowds: you find shelter in the swaying crowds at concerts and comfort in the cheering masses at swim meets.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know it's the stress cracking down on you, only bound to get worse - but you push it away, to deal with at another time, in a more inopportune place.
How come you can help others without a second thought, but become a train wreck when you need to help yourself?
The first time you realize, of course, just has to be in the middle of a Bart car during the Monday morning commute.
Your heart starts to rise into your throat and you try to follow a guided breathing exercise you find on the Internet, but it cuts out as you pass through the Lake Merritt station.
It works - for a minute and a half. Suddenly, you break into a sweat, your vision goes foggy around the edges, and you fade through varying levels of consciousness. Your head and stomach feel like they're going for loop de loops on the Medusa you rode 8 times on your 8th grade end of year trip to Six Flags.
Your knees give out and you sit, like a fool, among at least a hundred slightly irritated, yet unbothered Silicon Valley worker bees.
It seems so out of place - you spend your life in crowds: you find shelter in the swaying crowds at concerts and comfort in the cheering masses at swim meets.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know it's the stress cracking down on you, only bound to get worse - but you push it away, to deal with at another time, in a more inopportune place.
How come you can help others without a second thought, but become a train wreck when you need to help yourself?
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Self-Doubt
So due to a few events lately, I've begun rethinking basically my entire identity.
I've been a member of the swim team (city and school) for as long as I can remember, and swimming has always been a huge part of my identity. Every summer is marked by early mornings at the pool, watching the sun rise, and carbo loads until the moon is high above us in the sky.
The team has always been my family, and I've never expected it to change.
However, recently my best-swim-friend decided she would quit the team this year for long distance track (???) and like 80% of my friends on the team have either graduated or decided they wouldn't do it this year. I was prepared for those people leaving because they knew it for a while and gave us notice, but not for this.
In the summer swim team, almost everyone that I was close with has decided to either quit or move on to year round swim, which I can't do because I don't have enough time what with my incredibly rigorous classes.
I've spent half of my life vesting my entire sense of self in this sport. I could always find the answer to "Who am I?" in the bottom of a swimming pool.
But now, if I were to ask myself that question, I wouldn't be able to answer it.
I can't spend an entire summer idle while my friends go off and do these amazing things -- some are planning 6 week trips around the world to study foreign languages, some are touring the country with their symphonies, and others are just going to practice with their teams every day.
Losing that would be like losing a part of myself.
Doing all of last season without knowing it was my last also kills me a little bit, because then it feels like it just wasn't done right.
I also feel horrible quitting, in general. I've quit piano, which was incredibly hard for me to do for similar reasons, and I don't know if this would just be too much. I'd feel terrible about myself for quitting yet another thing, because then I'd be left with nothing.
All of my friends have found their passions - from running, to singing in the choir, to playing cello, to theater. To feel like the only one who still is lost in the waves is horrible.
But, if I don't quit swim, I know this feeling will keep on haunting me. It's been present since almost last year.
I posted about this on my private Instagram account and I've received a bunch of texts from my friends asking if I'm okay since then. I love them with all my heart and I appreciate them so much but I don't know how well they can understand what I'm feeling.
To put it in terms of cliche, I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Or maybe I'm just stuck beneath the water, trying to stop myself from sinking further.
I've been a member of the swim team (city and school) for as long as I can remember, and swimming has always been a huge part of my identity. Every summer is marked by early mornings at the pool, watching the sun rise, and carbo loads until the moon is high above us in the sky.
The team has always been my family, and I've never expected it to change.
However, recently my best-swim-friend decided she would quit the team this year for long distance track (???) and like 80% of my friends on the team have either graduated or decided they wouldn't do it this year. I was prepared for those people leaving because they knew it for a while and gave us notice, but not for this.
In the summer swim team, almost everyone that I was close with has decided to either quit or move on to year round swim, which I can't do because I don't have enough time what with my incredibly rigorous classes.
I've spent half of my life vesting my entire sense of self in this sport. I could always find the answer to "Who am I?" in the bottom of a swimming pool.
But now, if I were to ask myself that question, I wouldn't be able to answer it.
I can't spend an entire summer idle while my friends go off and do these amazing things -- some are planning 6 week trips around the world to study foreign languages, some are touring the country with their symphonies, and others are just going to practice with their teams every day.
Losing that would be like losing a part of myself.
Doing all of last season without knowing it was my last also kills me a little bit, because then it feels like it just wasn't done right.
I also feel horrible quitting, in general. I've quit piano, which was incredibly hard for me to do for similar reasons, and I don't know if this would just be too much. I'd feel terrible about myself for quitting yet another thing, because then I'd be left with nothing.
All of my friends have found their passions - from running, to singing in the choir, to playing cello, to theater. To feel like the only one who still is lost in the waves is horrible.
But, if I don't quit swim, I know this feeling will keep on haunting me. It's been present since almost last year.
I posted about this on my private Instagram account and I've received a bunch of texts from my friends asking if I'm okay since then. I love them with all my heart and I appreciate them so much but I don't know how well they can understand what I'm feeling.
To put it in terms of cliche, I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Or maybe I'm just stuck beneath the water, trying to stop myself from sinking further.
Friday, October 28, 2016
Beauty Update
So, disregarding the fact that 50 school days into junior year my life is lightweight falling apart, I've decided to start working on my appearance and self esteem.
Obviously, the way I decided to do this is become better at makeup - a decision partly influenced by my impulse color corrector, highlight, and contour purchase after a particularly garbage Friday at school. I've watched a ton of videos and I'm really excited to start practicing, and I'm trying to push past the initial "I can't apply or blend anything to save my life" phase that always leaves me pissed off at myself and my makeup brushes.
I've also decided to start trying to dress cute in a unique way, and not the "basic hoe in the green jacket and white scarf" way. Anyone can dress green jacket cute, but I want to dress in the "holy shit I never thought anybody would be able to pull off that look" way.
My friend and I run a look book account just for ourselves on Instagram, which really encourages me to look good on the daily.
Nearly every week, I decide that that particular week will be the one in which I pull myself together, start cleaning my room, planning my outfits, going to bed early, and generally being productive.
I wonder which of these weeks will be the one in which that actually happens. I need to start carrying out the promises I make to myself.
On a side note, today after school, 3 of my friends and I discovered a cool new coffee shop right on the edge of the neighboring town. It was in a cute little plaza with a view of the hills that was breathtaking in the fall afternoon light, and it really made me appreciate this suburban life. I don't know what I'd be doing with myself if it weren't for these miles of back roads, hidden gems, and scattered, spontaneous memories in the city I know better than I know myself.
Obviously, the way I decided to do this is become better at makeup - a decision partly influenced by my impulse color corrector, highlight, and contour purchase after a particularly garbage Friday at school. I've watched a ton of videos and I'm really excited to start practicing, and I'm trying to push past the initial "I can't apply or blend anything to save my life" phase that always leaves me pissed off at myself and my makeup brushes.
I've also decided to start trying to dress cute in a unique way, and not the "basic hoe in the green jacket and white scarf" way. Anyone can dress green jacket cute, but I want to dress in the "holy shit I never thought anybody would be able to pull off that look" way.
My friend and I run a look book account just for ourselves on Instagram, which really encourages me to look good on the daily.
Nearly every week, I decide that that particular week will be the one in which I pull myself together, start cleaning my room, planning my outfits, going to bed early, and generally being productive.
I wonder which of these weeks will be the one in which that actually happens. I need to start carrying out the promises I make to myself.
On a side note, today after school, 3 of my friends and I discovered a cool new coffee shop right on the edge of the neighboring town. It was in a cute little plaza with a view of the hills that was breathtaking in the fall afternoon light, and it really made me appreciate this suburban life. I don't know what I'd be doing with myself if it weren't for these miles of back roads, hidden gems, and scattered, spontaneous memories in the city I know better than I know myself.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Concept 1: Dreaming in European Colors
Concept:
I move to Paris and find a cozy, quiet cafe overlooking the Seine - always keeping close to the water. I spend my days drinking French coffees and writing stories for the passersby on the cobbled streets in an old, nearly filled notebook.
Happiness is no longer fragmented among difficult and wasteful days. Perhaps I find a love stronger than one for pen and paper.
Time slows for me.
I catch up.
I move to Paris and find a cozy, quiet cafe overlooking the Seine - always keeping close to the water. I spend my days drinking French coffees and writing stories for the passersby on the cobbled streets in an old, nearly filled notebook.
Happiness is no longer fragmented among difficult and wasteful days. Perhaps I find a love stronger than one for pen and paper.
Time slows for me.
I catch up.
Returning from 2(?) Year Hiatus
I'm back, and I'm starting fresh.
Junior year has put a lot on my mind lately, and writing is cathartic, so essentially, I'll be restarting this blog.
So, welcome.
I don't know why, or who, I'm welcoming, as nobody (I presume) sees this blog. But formalities are good etiquette.
If you're someone other than me reading this, a virtual wanderer or drifter of some sort, congratulations. You've stumbled upon my mess of a mind that I decided to make permanent in digital ink.
You could live halfway across the world. You could be my next door neighbor.
That's the beauty of it, though, isn't it?
But I reiterate. Welcome.
Junior year has put a lot on my mind lately, and writing is cathartic, so essentially, I'll be restarting this blog.
So, welcome.
I don't know why, or who, I'm welcoming, as nobody (I presume) sees this blog. But formalities are good etiquette.
If you're someone other than me reading this, a virtual wanderer or drifter of some sort, congratulations. You've stumbled upon my mess of a mind that I decided to make permanent in digital ink.
You could live halfway across the world. You could be my next door neighbor.
That's the beauty of it, though, isn't it?
But I reiterate. Welcome.
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