Experimenting with Isolation
It started with a simple suggestion.
When I was teaching in Italy two summers ago, one of my host Dads suggested that I check into a nunnery. Something told me this wasn’t a compliment. I didn’t think spending all day with 8-year old Italian children had made me that wild, but who knows. Then he clarified,
“I recommend it for everyone. Silence can be good. We all need to be alone sometimes.”
Those words stuck. Not so much the nunnery part, but being alone. Up to that point, solitude had been a bit of a foreign concept. In college, I was pretty social and regarded as an extrovert. That summer too, I was constantly surrounded by people: at camp with students during the day, at home with my host family at night, and at various destinations with camp counselors on my travels in between. My sole alone time was before going to bed or in the shower . He’s right, I thought. I could use some alone time.
This is what I imagine the solitary road to look like.
Since then, I’ve held an odd fascination with isolation. I’d dream of going on my own “Eat Pray Love” sabbatical. I found myself leaving a lot of social functions early to be alone. I arranged my current living space so I could spend a lot of time with myself. I live with strangers who work long hours and are usually out of the apartment, so my space is my space and my time my time. It may sound strange, but I’m really comfortable with it. Spending nights holed in my room reading and writing, once uncommon for me, is now routine.
I still had never traveled alone. I tried several times that summer in Italy but somehow there was always something that got in the way (a last minute travel partner or cancelled trains)…I even ended up looking into nunneries but they were quite pricey and I couldn’t communicate with the nuns on the phone.
Then, two weekends ago, a $89 round-trip Amtrak deal to Montreal floated into my inbox. My first inclination was to share it with friends in New York to see if they wanted to join me on an adventure. But then I realized that this was my chance! This could be my “eat pray love”. My itinerary. My trip.
Selfishness ignited. Alone I went. 2 nights and a full day in Montreal, 18 hours on the train (9 hours each way), a little over 40 hours in Montreal, for a grand total of 60 hours in isolation. I was so EXCITED.
Of course, it wasn’t complete isolation. There were people around. I talked. People talked to me (sometimes in French). It wasn’t a silent retreat. The majority of my exchanges revolved awkwardly around my standalone nature. This is a typical conversation when people saw me eating by myself:
“Are you waiting for someone?”
“Um, no. just me.”
“Are you visiting Montreal?”
“Yeah, for the weekend. Wanted to get away from New York.” (my way of signaling I wanted to end the conversation)
“Ohh, I see.”
At which point people would cautiously back away, assuming my boyfriend had just dumped me or I was a stressed out New Yorker on the brink of a meltdown, and that basically my life was in shambles. None of which was true, of course. Not entirely at least.
Most of the time, I kept to myself. The best part was the efficiency. By 4 pm Saturday, I had climbed Mont Royal, suffered near cardiac arrest waiting an hour in line for the city’s best poutin, embarrassed myself by bargaining at a Quebec designer’s fashion sale (note to self: it is not proper protocol to bargain outside of Asia), and consumed a half bottle of wine at a university cafe (judged by onlooking McGill University students studying for finals).
In drunken glory, I reached the peak of my trip when I trudged through two feet of snow to the top of Mont Royal, 200 meters above ground to the sight of a city blanketed in white. The awe and wonder lasted about 42 seconds. I didn’t have anyone to ooh and ah with. So, as I slid back down the slippery slope of the mountain, I wondered – ‘What next?” If I’d been traveling with others, we would be running behind schedule (which would have surely been frustrating) but that wasn’t the problem. This time, I didn’t know what to do. I had no one to share the beautiful sight with. What’s more is that it was nearing happy hour and I was far from happy. Somehow in a matter of minutes, I had fallen from my highest high at the top of Mont Royal to major depressive disorder.
I mustered the energy to enter a bar, order a beer, and make friends. Something told me the latter probably wouldn’t happen when I pulled out my phone and discovered free wi-fi. ”No, Lynne, no.” I connected anyway. 15 minutes later, I was entering my 8th completed cycle of the vicious Facebook-Instagram-Twitter -Gmail wheel, which is where the anti-social part of this saga begins. Few things I can say with certainty, but I say with the surest certainty that scrolling through your social media feeds while surrounded by real living human flesh is the quickest way to feel like the loneliest person in the world. I left the bar a complete mute.
My peaceful, solitary view from the train
I returned to my hostel cold and tired. Earlier in the day, a McGill University student had recommended a vintage nightclub. “Don’t worry,” she said reassuringly, “You won’t feel awkward going by yourself. I’m sure you’ll make plenty of friends.” That I needed reassurance I could make friends was enough to convince me I didn’t want to go. By 11 pm, I was packed and ready to catch my train for the next day.
The train ride back was markedly different from the train there. Two days earlier, the excitement of my solo adventure flooded my thoughts as I undocked at Montreal’s Central Station. Anything was possible. I dared myself to make a new friend, meet a guy at a bar, or go crazy wild. None of that happened. Maybe that says I’m anti-social, a hermit incapable of connection. (Okay, calm down Lynne. You’re just introverted and shy.) But after 60 hours of little meaningful social contact, my feeling of loneliness had escalated to the point where I truly believed I had no friends in the world.
So, what can be gleaned from this adventure in isolation? That I’m an extremely melodramatic individual, prone to depression and marred by rejection? That solo trips yield delusions? Yes and yes. But more important than that, once I gained my senses back, I learned that we are not meant for isolation - - at least not for more than 24 hours. It’s not healthy. Also, social media does not make you more social. Shocking, I know. However, it does supplement many social activities nicely which is why I would never completely eliminate it if you want to stay connected to a larger group. It’s a tool to document memories and keep track of interactions. (Case in point: while writing this post, I turned to my Instagram photos and Foursquare check-ins as a way of remembering the chronology of events and places I went to on my trip. In just two weeks, I had forgotten a lot.)
My eagerness to be alone has taught me several things. One is that we are social beings, even the most introverted of us. We need external stimulation to prevent us from going insane. Another is that independence, while efficient and empowering, does not make the best memories. Yet I had to experience a taste of it, in the form of loneliness, to know how to appreciate others. For so long, I’ve selfishly believed my time alone was immensely more valuable than time spent with other people. I wanted efficiency in personal interaction and while listening to people talk, I wondered why they couldn’t get to the point. “What are you trying to tell me? Do we really have to stand here and make small talk?” I now see that people who are willing to allow me to enter their lives, be it through small talk or deeper exchange, are doing me a favor.
Of course it’s a matter of balance; it is never ideal to hear someone ramble on and on about nothing. And we all need our space and time. But when you can find that perfect volume where you can tune into other people’s stations without overpowering the own thoughts in your head – that’s a sweet spot.
To say that we each have our own story is only partially true. We do have our own story, but we are not always the main characters. Pilots need passengers to take off. Otherwise it’s just a flight and not an adventure.
Note to friends: this saga reveals a slightly maniacal side of me. I am aware that I have many dear friends (including some of you readers) and appreciate your love and concern if you were worried . I am fine (usually) 
On Failure
Yesterday, I was dismissed from a great job at a great company with great potential. Six months ago, I was dismissed from a great job at a great company with great potential. Two times in a row, I’ve been rejected, dismissed as “not a good fit” which in some ways is saying, “not good enough”. Startup pace is quick, if not brutal. So today, here I am, back at what seems to be Square One, trailing behind the offshoots of engines that will jet off to greatness without me. By most standards, I’ve failed. But by at least one standard, I am encouraged. Defeat presents an opportunity to grow. Richard Nixon, a man who weathered a lot of turmoil, said that learning to survive a defeat is when you develop character. Scoff all you want about Nixon being the last person to know a thing about character, but he’s got a point.
“Ultimately what matters most is resilience–the ability to quickly rebound from failures, indeed to see failure as a stepping stone to success.”
- Arianna Huffington
That’s not to undermine the shame and embarrassment I feel. Being let go sucks. Being let go twice doubly sucks. When you think about it too much, you go crazy, believing your life is just pedaling against the current: one step forward, two steps back. You descend into all sorts of belittling comments and emotions. Heart-wrenching pain that leads to tears, sobbing, louder sobbing, and mind-blowing cries because heck – - rejection hurts.
But amid all the pain, there is a voice – small, quiet yet certain – that knows this is all necessary. After all, what is good without bad? Happiness without sadness? And success without failure?
The windows in my living room overlook the corner of a busy intersection humming with people rushing to their destination. It’s a perfect encapsulation of New York City. I usually scarf my breakfast in plain view of Kate Moss, whose Rag and Bone ad is plastered on the building across the street. Her frozen smile stares at my 99-cent Cinnamon oatmeal sprinkled with too much brown sugar. Her perfectly symmetrical face simultaneously captivates and infuriates me. I imagine her passing gentle judgment, with my asymmetrically cut strawberries, crumpled shirts, and pants squeezing too tight. “Nothing tastes better than skinny. Get it together, Lynne. Don’t fuck up today.” Perfection can be motivational.
Today, I looked out, expecting her gaze. Instead, I saw an assortment of black flyers advertising a weekend party. One of them had already been scribbled on. How quickly perfection had been replaced! I was reminded of the Augusteum in Rome, once the center of the empire only now to be a collapsed monument waiting for a reconstruction that will never happen.
My ego is bruised but has learned its lesson. Ruin is the road to transformation. Life is chaotic, bringing changes that nobody can anticipate. So, don’t take it all too seriously. Fall, but get back up. A job is a job, and life moves on. Like a fish out of water flopping about, I’ll find another place to swim.
“The Augusteum warns me to not get attached to any obsolete ideas about who I am, what I represent, whom I belong to, or what function I may once have intended to serve. Yesterday I might have been a glorious monument to somebody, true enough–but tomorrow I could be a fireworks depository. Even in the Eternal City, says the silent Augusteum, one must always be prepared for riotous and endless waves of transformation.”
- Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love
To the next wave.
For the Love of Lists
Hats off to 2012! Wherever you are, I hope you’re able to reflect on the highs and lows of the year with honesty and humility. Among the many year-in-reviews and recap videos, I found this one particularly gut-wrenching- 2012: What Brought Us Together
Gazing between boroughs on the Brooklyn Bridge. My favorite photo from 2012 (snapped from my iPhone) represents the grandeur of Manhattan and all the shaken beauty this concrete kingdom afforded me this year.
With 2013 fast approaching, it’s list time. I love these handy things. They’re the most basic tool to getting organized when one actually keeps track of them and checks consistently. While charting course for the New Year, I’ve started to think about the ways I can make 2013 better – more authentic, challenging, and meaningful – through…you guessed it!…lists.
Charlie O’Donnell, partner and founder of Brooklyn Bridge Ventures, writes a weekly newsletter about tech events in NYC. (Sidenote: If you are new to the space and want a quick way to get acquainted with NYC tech, ‘This Week In NYC Innovation‘ is a great place to start.)
Last week, he included a compilation of list topics to think about for the new year, which I found very useful:
- Three people I’m actually friends with that I would like to be better friends with.
- Ten people I should know, but don’t.
- Five people I’d like to help be successful.
- Three things I’d like to learn.
- A physical goal (a time, a measurement, or just being able to be more bendy, less creaky, etc.)
- An emotional goal.
- Something you’d like to close the book on and move on from.
- Three ways you’re going to try to get more sleep.
- Read a book a month…list the first three you’re going to read. (Might I suggest re-reading the Great Gatsby before summer.)
- Five people you feel like you’re supposed to be friends with, but really don’t like, that you’re going to unfriend/disconnect/ignore.
- Three things that you’ve been procrastinating on that you’re going to get done.
I like this list for its holistic approach. It takes into account practical, emotional, physical, and educational goals. There’s also heavy emphasis on improving relationships, while understanding that not all interactions are created equal (ie. friendships vs. idols vs. mentorships, even un-friendships are included).
I’m sharing a few of my goals from this list because I firmly believe if it’s not written down, it doesn’t exist. Here’s to accountability!
3 Things I’d Like to Learn This Year:
- How to cook (I’m keeping a list of my favorite dishes and recipes to learn – open to additions!)
- Adobe Creative Suite (InDesign, PhotoShop, Illustrator – open to help!)
- Bible Literacy (open to fellow faith buddies)
A Physical Goal
- Be able to do this without sounding or looking like a gorilla. (Getting rid of the pooch would be nice too.)
3 Ways to Get More Sleep
- Having a set bed time. I’m setting it for 11:30 – 7:30 (for now) which gives me a healthy 8 hours.
- Completely turning off an hour before bed. That means, winding down and turning off the computer/TV by 10:30 pm.
- (Hm, I can only come up with two.)
2013 Book-a-Month List (in no particular order; open to other good reads)
- The Alchemist, by Paulo Coehlo
- On the Road, by Jack Keruoac
- The Education of Henry Adams, by Henry Adams
- Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison
- Behind the Beautiful Forevers, by Katherine Boo
- Ulysses, by James Joyce
- The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz
- The Influencing Machine, by Brooke Gladstone
- Change by Design, by Tim Brown
- Lean In, by Sheryl Sandberg
- St Paul Trois Ch Teaux, by C. Joybell C.
- The Power of Habit, by Charles Duhigg
3 Things I’ve been procrastinating on that WILL get done
- Submitting to Thought Catalog
- Exercising
- Calling a loved one..because in this day and age, it doesn’t happen enough.
The full list of notes are currently scribbled in my TextEdit, and I’m well aware many will remain unfulfilled. Life tends to begin (how dare it), pushing these goals to the dusty, untouched crevices of the mind. Hard to say which will stick and which will be thrown to the wind. Life is unpredictable. Either way, it’s here for the love of lists.
“You may not know where you’re going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.”
- C. Joybell C.
Happy New Year! I wish you all a fruitful 2013 with many healthy happenings.
End of the World
If the world were to end tomorrow, would you be ready?
My take on 12/21/12 is that the Mayans got it wrong and the world will continue to turn on its axis. NASA agrees. However, I’m of New Age mindset. To me, 12/21/12 marks the end of an old world and the start of a new one, ushering in an age when Earthly inhabitants undergo positive transformation. In other words, New Years Day. Time to make and break our resolutions with unfailing eagerness.
2012 Recap
It was the most tiring, terrifying, and terrific year in memory.
It started with bright eyes and high hopes. I moved to a small but cozy Park Slope apartment to begin my New York saga symbolically on New Years. Forget that I wasn’t sure if I would make enough to pay monthly rent. Waking to the sight of the Chrysler building from my bedroom window was enough reason to get out of bed. Anything was possible.
I was first exposed to the realities of the city as a personal/editorial assistant for a wine business owner. My boss was wonderful but after the n-millionth time picking up office supplies and fetching coffee, I started to wonder if this was all a college degree was worth. On the weekends, I drank my share of wine. (Work-related research, of course!)
My second job landed me at a prestigious startup fellowship program that placed college graduates to work at startups in lower-cost cities. I was their first recruiter but was exposed to much more than recruiting. Event planning, social media, office politics – - with a small staff, there was a lot to get done and at times, my lack of corporate/organizational experience showed. I learned a few key things about organization, foremost being that I’m not organized. It’s why writing things down and having clear daily to-do lists have become new resolutions. The job took me to Providence over the summer for a phenomenal training camp which remains one of the best memories of the year, purely for the chance to meet 40 of the most inspiring and creative college graduates. I grew by leaps and bounds but after 5 months, I knew that this company wasn’t the right cultural fit.
Life since has been a mix of freelance writing, tech dabbling, user acquisition, and social media strategy. Highly stimulating work with little peace to be found. I networked, mingled, exchanged business cards, went social to the max. The freelance/startup life taught me the importance of being disciplined with time. If you’re good at it, go superwoman! Bad at it, never sleep. We’ll see if I give in to 9-5 soon.
So, was 2012 a success? Last year I wrote, “If I can make just one tiny decision that moves me closer to being my best self-whatever that may entail, wherever that may be- that’s success in my flighty mind.” 2012 was to be the year forward.
And? Am I ahead, off track, 2 steps forward 3 steps back? Well, I can say that I’m officially a New Yorker and now part of the craziness I used to only admire from afar. I’ve spent far too much, slept far too little. I could have been wiser. And yet at 23, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I end 2012 exhausted, knowing that I tire because I’ve tried my hand at many things, failed, and therefore, moved forward.
2013 – Focus
Notifications blew up my phone in 2012. While this gave me bursts of serotonin, it also lead to unhealthy crashes and reduced productivity. It’s resulted in my decision to disconnect and retire. When I say retire, I mean retiring from perpetual social grooming and focusing instead on real work.
Last week I deactivated Facebook, and yesterday I followed through with Instagram. A friend messaged me saying that he was astonished and a little sad that I was leaving all these social networks. To him, I was the epitome of Generation 2.0: Miss Popular with tons of friends, always connected and blogging and snapping photos. Reading this only reinforced my need to retire. My public image was so well-crafted. So well-crafted that sooner or later, people would be let down. Achieving a self-involved image is no small feat, and I don’t have the energy or desire to maintain it anymore.
Aside from ‘connecting’, I’ve started to realize that all the other stuff that comes with being ‘social’ serves more as a disutility that detracts from my day. Because when you peel away all the layers of perfectly timed and witty statements, cute outfits, and adventurous getaways, what’s left is a pretty plain and boring person too tired to do much of anything other than appear. The thought of being that lame person used to sadden me. Now it just excites me because it means more time to sleep. 2013 will be the year of focus and commitment. Take me as I am, just a lazy being who wants to lie in bed, eat, and watch TV.
In 2013, I plan to focus on building non-social digital skills (CRM, Creative Suite, Mailchimp), cooking more, and solidifying pre-existing relationships. It’s quite boring, but really just a continuance of my 2012 resolution, because only by getting serious will I ever be able to move forward.
I’ve always lived with a sense of urgency, a conviction that time is running out. But with the world ending tomorrow, it’s time to be really honest and live out our truest lives, not just what sounds good or what makes an interesting story. Because what makes us happiest may not be all that interesting. And that’s okay.
Day 29: Coast to Coast
A few hours separate one coast – and one world – from another. This morning, I braved gutsy hurricane-like winds in San Francisco, now I’m warmly tucked in to my Brooklyn nook. Air travel, akin to time travel, will never cease to amaze.
So there I sat at 4:30 am PST, my thoughts dripping steadily like the rain drops coalescing on the airplane window. My SFO – - > JFK flight was delayed. We had been stuck on the runway for nearly 2 hours before the pilot was forced to head back to the gate to refuel and wait the storm out. Storm gusts blew at more than 15 knots per hour. (know what that means? neither do I)
For 72 hours before, I took in San Francisco like a vagrant. I stayed at a humble artist’s hotel with morbidly beautiful paintings adorning the wall (my first two room options consisted of one: a crying geisha, two: a stripper staring me down). I finally settled on a more calming bedroom backdrop reminiscent of a Japanese ‘Starry Night’.
Night time brought walking escapades through the city, often with nary an idea of where I was going. Thankfully there were friends who led the way through various neighborhoods. Interesting to observe their tendencies. Just like some New Yorkers shudder at the mention of certain neighborhoods (ahem Williamsburg), San Franciscans have similar reactions to particular areas (Marina?) Ultimately, each neighborhood has a distinct character and way of life that makes San Francisco what it is. In addition to downtown, there are neighboring suburbs: Palo Alto, San Jose, Cupertino, Oakland, Marin County etc. which collectively comprise the Bay Area, a whole other world to itself.
I jotted mental notes comparing San Francisco to New York. Each is arguably the ‘golden’ city on its own coast so, of course, I was evaluating the potential of each as a future home.
The main differences I noticed:
- Residential: San Francisco, while urban, is markedly more residential. You’ll see long stretches of houses and apartments even in the thick of downtown. In Manhattan, aside from maybe the Upper East and West, that’s unseen. And even in neighborhoods like those, Manhattan retains an utterly cosmopolitan environment.
- Style: San Franciscans are more casual. Admittedly, I spent all of my time at startups (one in downtown, and another in Palo Alto) but even around the more corporate Financial District I sensed a greater level of openness and earthiness. New York, while scrappy in ways, is all business with its swank and suits.
- Health: San Franciscans veer natural. They are close to the outdoors with hiking paths, access to mountains and actual room to breathe. Living in New York, meanwhile, might take a year off your life. Physically and mentally, you drive yourself sick between riding the subways, battling anxiety and other neurotic souls, while being lured into oil-dripping street Halal food. But…it’s New York.
I spent most of my time in the more touristy parts of San Francisco: Union Square, Ferry Building, Financial District. Next time, I’m intensely interested in understanding the people, values, and pace of the city. This visit was far too short to get at the city’s real essence. But from the few people I did encounter (including the good samaritan who paid my MUNI fare because I didn’t know you needed exact change) - I’d say it was quite nice.
Other highlights:
- seeing my childhood best pal and longest friend to date, Diana
- eavesdropping on “big ideas” at Ground Up Cafe, a shared space for employees in the AOL building (which houses several startups and Stanford’s startup incubator)
- touring the ZeroCater office and shadowing their account managers for a very accurately depicted “day in the life”
- eating cioppino and sea dabs for the first time at a homey family-owned Italian restaurant in North Beach
- exploring the bar scene. Local Edition (located in the Hearst building; the displays of old San Francisco Chronicle editions with typewriters make this a news nerd’s heaven) and Bourbon & Branch (prohibition-style bar with great whiskey & gin cocktails; there’s an old-school library too)
- being a tourist and eating overpriced hamburgers and martinis while overlooking Union Square. Totally worth it.
“Look at all those fish swimming in a fish bowl down there.”
Thanks for a great time, San Francisco. I hope I get to spend more time with you one day.
Day 20: Singlehood and (in)Dependence
Many of my friends are in relationships. It didn’t occur to me exactly how many until today, when I was talking to my Mom about my plans to visit a friend and her boyfriend. They’ve found jobs in the same city and now live close enough to see each other regularly.
“Are you jealous of her?” she asked.
“Jealous? That she lives in San Francisco and has a stable job?”, figuring that if I had to go on the defensive about my employment and living choices once again, I might as well beat her to the punch.
“No,” she sighed. “She has a boyfriend she can see all the time. You don’t. Aren’t you…lonely?”
Subtlety is not her niche. I’ve been prodded by my Mom about my weight, intellect, and inability to cook before. But hearing her hint at my loneliness was possibly one of the most piercing truths my single 23-year old self has heard in a long, long time.
—-
I’ve dated and been in quasi-relationships before, but nothing serious. It’s not that I’m against relationships. And it’s not even like I’m one of those girls with absurdly high standards, waiting for “the one”. I have no checkbox criteria.
To the chagrin of feminists, Cameron Diaz made headlines for saying, “I think every woman does want to be objectified. There’s a little part of you at all times that hopes to be somewhat objectified, and I think it’s healthy.” I couldn’t agree more.
I think the reason I’m still single is precisely because I don’t think about it a lot, despite how it’s now made increasingly apparent by my mother and number of committed friends.
I’ve been called independent, intimidating, asexual even? So, let me make this clear. I’m none of that. Maybe a little independent, but not to the point where I want to stand solitary for the rest of my life. I also don’t mind being objectified. I love my body; straight men probably do too, and I feel empowered by that. I am single, straight, and willing to mingle. But in the right ways. Ultimately, I value certain things in life including God, my time, career, and dignity. Anyone who unnaturally imposes on any of these I probably won’t be able to comfortably date or be in a relationship with.
Some have said that my somewhat fickle relationship complex may be a sign of something deeper. By never being taken seriously as a child, I’m now trying to overcompensate by acting like super independent woman. Perhaps. But enough psychoanalyzing. All I know is that when the right person comes, everything else in life should flow seamlessly. There are no doubts, little compromise, niente stress. I don’t think that’s too high of a standard. Until then, I will continue enjoying my (in)dependence.
And Mom, no jealously on my part. The third wheel on a tricycle is the best part.
Day 18: Reunions
Some things never change.
My friend Kristin who has been out of the country for 18 months returned to the States this weekend. Before going home to Florida, she made a stop in New York City where she was greeted with big hugs, kisses, and a rousing homecoming from close-knit friends. We ate cupcakes, shopped, and hair-flipped our way through New York City like an obnoxious group of sorority sisters. It was almost like college again
Kristin and I traveled together last summer when we both taught English in Italy through a program called ACLE. We have always shared a strong connection through our mutual love for traveling and culture, but it was our OBSESSION with gelato that really solidified our bond. (One scoop? Try two or three…per day.) I left Europe after 3 months but Kristin stuck to the peripatetic life for another year and a half. Her travels took her from Italy to London to Paris to all throughout Asia (Taiwan, China, Singapore, Thailand, Malaysia).
Over dim-sum on Sunday, Kristin shared stories about her travels, ranging from her run-in with Asian girls at karaoke ‘gangnam style’ to the incredible hospitality she experienced in Malaysia. Kristin has always been an adventurous spirit but she has now surpassed everyone within our circle of friends in sheer bad-ass status with the number of far-fetched tales she has.
She is that girl, the cultured one, the one who has friends everywhere because she’s actually been to those countries. She’ll begin a story with “This one time, my Dutch friend…” On a practical level, she can tell the difference between a good macaroon and a bad one, and has developed a strong inkling for when someone is ripping her off. She appreciates hole-in-the wall authenticity over flashy tourist traps. As a plus, she can probably educate you on all the details of the various visa application processes since she’s faced several interesting experiences with that herself. Read all of her helpful travel tips on her blog, Lost Abroad.
A year and a half seems like a long time. But as Kristin said herself, it’s really just a spec. What matters more than all of her worldly stories is that she can still snort a big laugh and engulf several slices of American pizza with a smile on her face. Some things never change…and they never should.
Day 16: Sleep
Even on the sunniest of days, it can be difficult to stay upbeat.
As I rushed from one arrangement to the next, my mind waxed incoherence about the purpose of it all. There were simply too many people and not enough space. It was cold. My feet hurt. I was tired.
At a coffee date later, I found myself turning zombie-like. I might as well have. Eyes rolled to the back of my head, synapses mis-navigating, and me thirsting for…sleep.
Truthfully, it was a great day. I supported a friend/mentor in a social media lecture at SUNY and got the chance to meet with an awesome company about a potential partnership. I saw 2 friends over coffee and dinner. I ate, conversed, and laughed (albeit deliriously).
And I’m in New York, where places like this are commonplace. Pinch me. Sometimes I fail to remember.
You fail to see the beauty in things when your mind is struggling to stay awake. I have deprived myself of so much sleep this past week tying up loose ends – attending a late networking event, sending last emails, writing these posts – that I forget about the larger vision behind all these tasks. The key to unlocking big ideas is not to keep your eyes open all the time; it’s to close them regularly so you can achieve grander things when awake. As Arianna Huffington says, sleep your way to the top.
There you have it. Rather than belabor the point, I’m going to heed these words and head to bed. It’s a Friday night and temptation is out there. Thank goodness for a friend who just sent me this text:
Gosh, I am blessed. I’ll sleep to that!
Day 8: MOWAndering
What am I actually doing? People ask me that a lot. I don’t have a straight answer. I am making no money, am essentially “jobless”, and have no particular path. One could say I am a freelancer, though that’s really just a euphemism for being unemployed since I float between various projects at minimal (sometimes zero) pay. Furthermore, I’ve skipped the few money-making opportunities I have to focus on fledgling ventures that may tank.
Logic questions my decisions, but I’m stubborn. I fill my time with projects that have little traction because a.) they challenge me, and b.) I learn from the visionaries behind them. There is a time and place for everything. Money and security are safe but my current priorities are personal growth, experience, and relationships. The wise wanderer holds off and restrains. My ultimate goal is to get on a rocket ship; until then, I wander.
I’m working with a team called MOWA. MOWA is a mobile photo-sharing game that partners with up-and-coming fashion brands and rewards socially-savvy media users with unique prizes. We aim to create a network of fashionable trendsetters to help brands advertise in this fast-growing mobile photo-sharing and gaming space. The app is currently pre-beta, but you can check us out at www.mowa.me and get on the subscriber list in the meantime. We are looking to test the Beta version of the app with 100 trendy, fashion-forward 20somethings so if you meet that criteria, leave a comment. (You get free stuff!)
I’m charged with user acquisition and media outreach which puts me smack in marketing/PR. Coming from journalism, this could be considered complete sell-out status. But here’s the thing (and a significant reason why I skipped work yesterday to join the MOWA founders): I enjoy it. Our communication approach is open and real and based on building real relationships by providing interesting content to the next stylistic generation. It’s not gimmicky. We’re connecting people to brands they love. All marketing jokes aside, that cuts straight to the reason why humans exist – to connect.
So, what am I doing again? I’m experimenting, figuring out what works and what doesn’t. I’m dirt poor, unreasonably idealistic, and hungry. But I figure as long as I am constantly evaluating where I am and feeling satisfied (even with a lack of answers), no one can question my actions. Not even myself.
No FOMO
I turned 23 yesterday. In the days leading up, I was asked what I wanted, to which I altruistically responded, “Oh, nothing at all!” Hm. A friend hinted that I write a wish list. Sp I jotted just a few things:
- personal trainer
- juicer
- the new Mac OS
- iTunes gift card
- leather wallet
- skinny jeans (coral color)
- replacement pair of Gucci sunglasses
- bonus: a handsome smart young man
What a saint.
It’s not difficult to come up with things we could have that could make our lives better. There is always room for improvement. However, the second I start thinking about all the things I need, I start viewing life through a scarcity lens. An entity lacking this, needing improvement in that, and at its core, not good enough. Before I could finish my wish list, I had descended into a spiral of anxiety about everything I did not have and had not become.
I’m 23. There are many things I have yet to see or experience. Thinking about all the possibilities makes my mind whirl! The pressure to “make a difference” seems engrained in our generation. There is even an acronym for this affliction, outlined in this article by Priya Parker, “Millennials paralyzed by choice“. FOMO, or fear of missing out, stems from our hungry ambitions and desire for optimality. It happens when the media shows us cool images of what others are doing and where we could be, which almost always seems better than our own state. This is more than just an evil marketing ploy; FOMO trickles into our social media updates – “look, I”m doing this – how fun!!!” – tapping into our envious desire to one-up each other in life interestingness. Arranging our adult lives in optimal fashion is becoming a generational obsession. How do you get the best job in the best city, while keeping all options open?
There’s nothing wrong with wanting the best. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always wanted to live in New York. But every once in a while – usually while I am stressing about running late or how my dress is squeezing tight in the gut, – I remember an old man in Vietnam. He sat on the side of the road, dirtier than dirt, beaming dimple to dimple, crooked missing teeth and all. While complaining about the heat and voraciously fanning myself, I barely paid him any attention. He smiled at me, which struck me as supremely odd, for what had he to smile about? It was hot and disgusting. He had nothing and I wasn’t giving him anything. Yet in a single moment, ever so fleeting, I realized how wrong I was. Indeed, the man had nothing but he, in fact, had everything simply because he was happy with what he had. My life, ever abundant in tourist pleasures, was intrinsically starved. I continued fanning myself.
That was three years ago. Yesterday, I spent my birthday with my parents. We went grape-picking, ate dinner at a local Italian restaurant, and attended a classical piano concert. I got calls, messages, and cards from a handful of friends. The day was a hodgepodge of simple moments with the people who mean the most to me. There were times when I wondered what I’d be doing if I were in New York. A night out in the city would have surely been a birthday production…and what a shame if it weren’t, with all the options available! The operation would have been documented, yielding picture-perfect moments against a beautiful New York City backdrop (perhaps with a touch of Instagram editing) – - surely worthy of double-digit likes.
Yet back in Tennessee, I was wading through thorny bushes, spider webs, and buzzing bees (only to find rotten grapes). For a few minutes, I yearned for some city grandeur. Then I heard my Mom’s Chinese shrieks. She had found a perfectly ripe batch of grapes. Her cute little visor bobbed in the trees ahead. Lest the vineyard owners call the cops on her for disturbing the peace, I had no other choice but to see what she was referring to. So I stormed through more spider webs, tripped, and got caught in laughter, wondering why I would ever in my right mind trade this comical experience for uncomfortable heels, birthday shots, and exorbitant tax fares.
I was in bed before midnight, which was glorious. As I went to sleep, I came to the conclusion that when faced with choices, I want everything. It’s selfish and causes unnecessary stress, not to mention incredibly self-deprecating. So, what do I really want? To be content with my one life, the way it is, the way I am- simple, true, and loving.
So, that is what I am giving myself: freedom. Freedom from FOMO. Freedom from the should-haves, could-haves, would-haves. Freedom to know I am not missing out and that, in fact, I have everything I already need.
Thank you to all my friends, family, and well-wishers who are shining reminders of life’s abundance.
Why NY
Tell me one last thing. Tell me why New York. You could be anywhere with what you’re trying to do – find your place – but why NYC? L.A., Atlanta, Boston, San Francisco, Chicago, these would all work just as well. So tell me what it is about New York that you love. Why it speaks to YOU. Don’t give me a watered down Woody Allen script either.
Dear MW,
I decided to write you about New York, strategically, in its absence. I’m not there now; in fact, I’m situated smack in what you may call its antithesis along a windy path bordering the Smokeys, in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Here it seems like God is about to turn the seasonal switch, with time teetering gently between the late night shouts of children enjoying Summer’s last call and the swaying trees beckoning Fall’s cool breeze. It’s beautiful.
So, why New York?
Being somewhere else has forced me to recognize its intangible value. Let’s be real – nothing absolutely pertinent to my existence is strictly in New York. I can find anything I need in any other big metropolitan city (with the exception of a really good slice of pizza and the view from the Brooklyn Bridge) but even then, there are suitable (albeit sub-par) replacements.
So, the real question then becomes, why do I belong in New York? Because at the end of the day, all we really want in anything – a significant other, a friend, a career, a city – is a sense of belonging.
It boils down to a few things:
1. Ownership
In NYC, I have two walking limbs – rusty and badly in need of a massage at the end of the day – but dependable. They’re just like the New York subway – slow, dirty, and always running late – but they get you where you need to be.
NYC is a city for walking simply because you can. If you really wanted, you could walk from the northern tip of Manhattan (Harlem) to the southern end (Wall Street) – all 16 miles – and be back in time for dinner. What a sight you’d see along the way! In New York, I have to place my feet on the pavement, feel the hard concrete beneath and the subway rumbling below. Jumping in a car is not an option, unless you’re rich and can afford a car or a hefty cab fare. In other cities, there’s the luxury of escape, A/C, silence. IN New York you walk because you have to, and it’s sometimes (actually, usually) really annoying because all you want is to sit and go for a drive and listen to your music in peace without all these barking wannabe comedians, pesky tourists, beggars, germs, not to mention the unmistakable smell of crap at the Chinatown subway stop…but you walk anyway.
In the griminess, you are forced to face an unfair world. There’s no easy drive to the gated community. Rich and poor, you see it all and with each pounding step, you hurt for the city. And so, you own it.
2. Character
Better than the public transit system are the people you see on it. One night, near midnight, I was nodding off on the train when an odd-looking trio entered. They looked nothing short of the Circus Freaks from Big Fish: a morbidly obese woman, a dwarf, and a gangly man (who looked all the more gangly next to the dwarf) with a scruffy beard. Within minutes of stepping on the train, the man began to howl like a wolf (in fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised had he turned into one) while the woman sang like an opera singer and the dwarf awkwardly stood there. There were 2 other people on the train who didn’t even look up. I pinched myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream; the only other possibility was that I was going crazy. Eventually they got off, but it was one of the most bizarre things I ever witnessed.
I’m not saying that you should move to NYC to catch this midnight act. I’m sure there are similarly odd characters residing in other cities. But New York has a higher proportion of them. You’re bound to see an energizing and most interesting collision of cultures in the most densely packed American city.
Other memorable New York characters include the fashion-forward pink-haired women, the break dancers providing unsolicited stress relief on the N while crossing the Manhattan bridge, and the jovial Caribbean men spouting newspaper pickup lines. Seeing such off-the-wall characters means I cannot possibly be ashamed of my own weirdness because someone is sure to have already outdone me. Normalcy is relative; the city has seen it all. New York’s identity is neither classy Cambridge nor star-studded Hollywood; it’s all of the above, a hodgepodge of everything. I belong, simply by being me, a patch stitched next to the suited-up corporate executive overlaying the pink-haired fashionista sewn next to the Wolf Man. New York is a colorful quilt.
3. Possibility
It’s what we crave. Brett Nelson sums it up best in 50 lessons he’s learned from living in New York.
Whatever shape the economy’s in, millions of people continue to pay an absurd premium to toil and escape in New York City. That’s because deep down—more than any specific satisfaction or vice—we all crave possibility. In that sense, NYC might be the world’s greatest brand: It makes you feel (goofy as it sounds) like anything can happen.
New York, Boston, L.A., Miami, Chicago – they are all stellar cities. Wherever you decide, you can’t go wrong, for your needs will be met. But my question to you – is life about meeting needs? Choose the city that makes you come alive. For me, it’s New York. I said it 2 years ago in this post, and I’ll say it again:
There has to be a reason I feel so happy every single time I come here. I feel alive. It’s not the same high I get when traveling; this feeling is more realistic, more sustainable. I still waver between feelings of sadness and exhilaration, exhaustion and caffeination, drunkenness and sobriety like a swinging pendulum. But I think the unpredictability is more manageable because my surroundings are….well, unpredictable. Walking through the streets, I skim through tongues, cuisines, and faces around the world; my stress dissipates in the bubble of anxious energy surrounding the city.
Now sitting in Chattanooga, things are calm and good. I can live here just fine. But this age does not call me to be just fine. When I’m back in New York I’ll fall in love all over again. That’s my NY.
When the going gets tough
…go on a run. Or if you’re like me, start running, stop after a block, and evaluate why you’re huffing and puffing like you’ve been running a marathon.
This is more than a story about being out of shape. It’s about dealing with obstacles that prevent you from reaching the finish line. Because when it rains, it pours, and in the aftermath of my most recent personal storm, I emerge completely bruised, battered, broken, and… blessed.
Over the past 90 days, a series of events had led me to believe the world was surely conspiring against me. In chronological order:
1. I was robbed in Providence,
2. I started experiencing hazy vision, due to scarring on my cornea,
3. My computer died,
4. I was averaging less than 5 hours of sleep/night,
5. I parted ways with my job.
Each of these sucked. The last was by far the hardest. There were several reasons for my dismissal from Venture for America, but the largest was that the company wasn’t a natural fit for me. We tried to make things work but ultimately discovered that it was unnatural to continue forcing myself in a position that just wasn’t cut to my shape.
Coming to this realization was difficult because I wanted so badly to contribute to the VFA mission. That was the plan. But when there lacks a natural, comfortable flow, something is probably off. I’ve learned that sometimes you must be willing to let go of what is planned, for the life that is truly right.
I can now focus on my health and peacefully take the time I need for surgery and recovery. I can now return to writing and exercising, which had all but disappeared when work took over. More importantly, I can now unapologetically be myself.
Last week, I whined to my friend about everything I’ve lost: my vision, my job, my health, even my cruddy old license which was stolen in Providence.
”I’ve been ripped of everything. What’s left?”, I cried.
“Family and friends. We remain.”, she said.
And that’s all I need. I was stripped of so many things associated with my ego to be reminded that none of that matters. What matters more than anything else is the love you have and the love you give, and I am blessed beyond belief to have an incredibly supportive network where all of that flows naturally.
For those dealing with similarly “catastrophic” events, remember that you aren’t possibly important enough for the world to plot against you. Think about what you do have and what is meant to emerge will do so naturally. If things aren’t working on a regular basis, perhaps you’re trying too hard to make two pieces of a different puzzle fit. Find another puzzle to solve.
Venture for America was a wonderful learning opportunity, and I am honored to have worked toward such a meaningful mission. Who knows what’s next. All I know is that however many more disasters it takes, I will eventually make it to the finish line.
“If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same…
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it”
A New Job
Life is a book and tomorrow marks a new chapter. I’m starting a new job with Venture for America as their Recruiting and Social Media Associate, and I couldn’t be more excited.
rockin’ our awesome American Apparel Venture for America fitted tees!
I’m excited because the direct mission of Venture for America is simple: recruit the best and brightest college grads to work for two years at emerging start-ups in lower-cost cities. Commendable, right? But what ultimately draws me to the organization is its multiple layers of potential impact.
1. Companies in less-recognized communities who otherwise lack the resources for securing top talent, now receive exactly that. (The first class of VFA fellows is pretty impressive.)
2. Communities that fellows are based in benefit from an economic boost with the influx of talent.
3. Fellows become mobilized as entrepreneurs, learning how to create business opportunities for themselves and others. Ultimately they have the potential to launch their own companies and create jobs.
4. As a nation, we reap the benefits of a revitalized economy, more jobs, and a redefined version of success.
At its core, Venture for America is out to create jobs, and rightly so. I’ve said before- youth unemployment is the issue of our generation. It’s a cause I get incredibly riled about. 54% of Americans between the ages of 18-24 are unemployed. A sense of dissatisfaction plagues our youth, mainly because we suffer from lack of ownership in what we do. Unless our country’s employment prospects are drastically improved, America will no longer be the passport to the good life. People will flock to places that actually have jobs, like Asia.
We need to secure America’s enterprising talent NOW. My job with Venture for America will involve identifying those individuals and engaging with them via digital media. More broadly, I am out to convince our nation’s best that small but high-potential companies can be viable post-graduate options, if not the best.
It’s crazy to think that just a few months ago I moved to New York City with high hopes, a few contacts, and a tepid bank account. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. But thank goodness for instinct. It led me to this opportunity, this chance to work for a company whose mission resounds so strongly with my beliefs. VFA founder Andrew Yang touches on the mission in his well-written post about restoring the culture of achievement. I am honored to join him and the rest of the VFA team, all of whom boast an impressive record of achievement and belief in the mission.
We will create 100,000 jobs (or more) by 2025. A lofty target, but I am up for the challenge.
——–
A special thank you and shout-out to my friend Sarah Kaiser-Cross who was the first person to tell me about VFA, all the way from Turkey!
Friend Crushes
“Nothing of me is original. I am a combined effort of everybody I’ve ever known.”
-Chuck Palahniuk
Though this tramps rudely on my artfully formed identity, it does remove some of the pressure. I am a skilled shopaholic only because my middle school friends would berate people who left the mall empty-handed. (Thus, my impressive amount of debt now can only be attributed to them.) I am quick with “that’s what she said” jokes (if those can be even considered jokes anymore) only because my college roommates and I flung them around all senior year. I am a terrible bowler because…well, who cares about bowling anyway. No one I know likes it, so I don’t need to.
We can use this reasoning to deflect individual responsibility for character deficits, or things we’re ignorant about. On the same token, we can’t take credit for our seemingly original insights. If I am a mere mishmash of the people in my life, my character is really just a representation of my taste. To that end, I try to surround myself with people I strive to be like.
Author Courtney Martin used the term ‘friend crushes’ in her latest piece about being your own mentor in a freelance economy. Since freelancers don’t have an easy structure to guide their work flow or career path, they must learn how to hold themself accountable to personalized goals and deadlines. This involves seeking ‘friend crushes’:
Sometimes you have to go after a collaborator or a work gig. I’m not big on “networking”—at least the version of it talked about in women’s magazines and at some alienating conferences. But I do believe in “friend crushes.” If someone does particularly awesome work, or has a way of looking at the world I find really unique, I will go out of my way to get to know them. It’s never with a set goal in mind, but more with the faith that putting a bunch of amazing people in my orbit will guarantee cool opportunities arising down the line.
It’s an interesting balance of individual initiative and creative collaboration, something which will become an increasingly important skill to cultivate as our world becomes less streamlined.
One of my biggest friend crushes is Joanna Galaris, a cultural chameleon who’s lived in 8 countries. By some stroke of luck I selected her as my mentee in a college organization. The tables have since turned and she’s now more like my mentor. Though she is just a junior in college, I think she has a much more solid grasp on the purpose of college than most people. Here’s something she wrote recently on her blog:
In college, we are constantly bombarded with people telling us that we must follow certain academic tracks and what the complementary internships and volunteer experiences to those tracks are and that our GPA is somehow related to our self-worth. I think this is nonsense. I would like you to un-learn that information. Yes, what you study in college, particularly if you are a STEM student, will probably determine the job you get paid for at first. But there are unlimited possibilities to expand your knowledge and your skill set so that you can be competent in many fields. I am a passionate Anthropology student but I have no intention of being an Anthropologist for the rest of my life. I do hope that I will get the opportunity to do public health research in Eastern and Western Africa and find incredibly creative ways to work within local health cultures to implement public health campaigns in under-developed areas. I do want to be a medical anthropologist. But I also want to be a carpenter, a musician and a writer. I want to speak French, Swahili and Arabic fluently and improve my command of the English language. I want to better my public speaking skills and learn more about where my food comes from. And I am 100% confident that I will be successful in all of these things.
Of course, this raises the age-old question of whether it is better to be a jack of all trades or an expert in one subject. There is value to both focus and well-roundedness. Regardless, she touches on a fundamental component of college that is too often failing to be ignited - curiosity.
Many have criticized American universities for becoming overly social, a wasteland of drinking escapades and drunken epiphanies. That is true, but social is not always bad. For some, the classroom is too formalized and contained for curiosity to flow. Learning thrives instead among candid discussion with peers. This does occur in the classroom, but personally I am more comfortable discussing serious topics among a trusted group of friends who won’t judge my oversight or lack of knowledge in a topic. This is why I think the concept of ‘friend crushes’ cannot be underestimated. Joanna, again:
Most of us in college right now are frustrated with the quality of education that we are receiving because we are failing to personalize our college experience. If you hate being in college and you can’t wait to graduate then it’s probably your own fault. If you are studying something that does not interest you and aren’t stimulated by the classes you are taking, then change your major. If you’re failing in your area of study and your classes make you feel dumb or incompetent then you’re probably in the wrong field. You are neither dumb nor incompetent. Dedicate the majority of your time here to something that you think you’ll be excellent at. It will make you happy and make it easier to tackle the harder stuff.
For those who don’t know what they’re good at or what makes them happy, fear not. That’s what life is for. College is just one of those unique social environments for you to experiment and ignite that curiosity alongside others who are also trying to figure it out. It will come easier when you’re exposed to those ‘friend crushes’ who you admire, perhaps cooler than you, but eager to share a bit of their insight with you, and vice-versa.
My social life is one of my top priorities because I surround myself with people that are talented and have skills that I don’t have. When I spend time with my friends, I am learning from them. I am taking in who they are and absorbing all of the things that I love about them and taking notes. Having lunch with a friend can be just as inspiring as sitting through a great class taught by a brilliant professor.
My life mantra is ‘everyone has a story’. Everyone can teach you something. So don’t be afraid to seek out those friend crushes and spend time discussing and honing the skills that will make you successful together.
How can you not have a crush on her when she takes you around the Greek islands?
Aegina, Greece, August 2011
College, Part II
I was at a networking event the other day, mostly for the tasty hors d’oeurves and the opportunity to imbibe free drinks, but figured I’d entertain some awkward conversation so my freeloading wouldn’t be so conspicuous. When someone approached me, I’d hurriedly finish my chewing (lest the silence be deafening) and begin talking mouth full with a load of quiche crumbs tumbling out. I’d chirpily extend my hand, “Hi my name is Lynne! Nice to meet you. What’s yours?!”
Nothing like an overly enthusiastic greeting that labels the “new girl on the block!” title square in the face.
So be it. I’m a Florida girl at heart and if my sunny disposition makes people squint, get some Ray Bans. Being from Florida in a cold city actually works to my advantage because it immediately creates an easy topic for conversation: weather. Inevitably, weather talk leads to the ultimate ‘elephant in the room’ question “What do you do?” which subsequently triggers an incessant chatter up in my prefrontal cortex on how to explain who I am, what I studied, and what on earth I think I’m doing here in the city. I panic, realizing I have no lucid way to introduce myself. So I usually start with, “Well, I drink a lot of wine…” (true story)
I’m not in any position to bestow wisdom on how to create your perfect elevator pitch and I’m not writing this post to pretend like I’m close to figuring it out. I probably won’t ever know how to describe myself in a witty one or two-liner and the day I can, my life will be officially pathetic. We are more complex (and interesting) than titles allow us to be.
That said, all this weather talk reminds me of another time not so long ago when I partook in a lot of chatty mingling, albeit in a less classy environment. Memories of a frenzied freshman year of college when I rushed to sign up for every organization offering community, value, and free food flood my guilty psyche. “You’ll find your best friends here!” “Make an impact!” Back then social situations were more beer pong and club meetings offering free pizza, less wine and cheese with keynote speakers from [insert reputable global organization].
I’m about 9 months out of the old stomping yard (college) and while it’s fair to say I’m no longer a college student, I still feel endowed with a somewhat privileged collegiate mindset. Perhaps even more than I did during my four lecture-sitting years.
I don’t roll out of bed and spring to class anymore, and I don’t bump into people I try to avoid every five minutes. Instead, I dress up, hopstop to work among suited up strangers, and carry a brown tote that looks slightly like an old man’s briefcase (it was the only one at the thrift store that could fit my dang laptop!). During my subway ride, I whip out my cranny nook and read up on design. Trust agents. The digital sphere. Or “how to get rid of that gut!”, which just conveniently happened to be on the latest cover of Shape.
After graduation, the learning doesn’t stop. My current line of work forces me to think digital, social media, and e-commerce while tasting new products and writing about them (which involves wine…what a bummer). It keeps me busy, but the knowledge appetite is still not satisfied. Curiosity widens like the mouth of a hungry child with a bottomless stomach. Now that I don’t have professors to direct my questions to (ironically whom, I barely spoke to when I was actually in college), I am more curious than ever.
As a newcomer to the city, I am still trying to determine the activities and people that are worth my limited time and energy. Of course, in order to play the game, you have to put up with some ‘small talk’. Slowly but surely, in this so very refined adult life, you whittle down the prospects to your truest, deepest interests, one glass – escargot – smooth talking schmooze-at a time.
Tomorrow I begin a wine tasting class called ‘Raise Your Wine IQ’. (Shameless plug- my boss is teaching and you can register here!) I’m also enrolled in a month-long online course called “How to launch your startup idea for less than $5000” which sounds gimmicky, but I’m getting information far more valuable than what I sat through in college without spending a penny. The class is being offered through the education startup Skillshare, a cool company that is trying to revolutionize education. I’m very interested to see how I can apply what I learn to a possible venture. Throw in my dance class and bible study, compounded with the professional life, and I have my own class schedule! I’ve never been more excited to learn in my life!
The Florida sunshine is probably blinding you but before you put on your blockers, keep this in mind:
“Your 20’s are your ‘selfish’ years. It’s a decade to immerse yourself in every single thing possible. Be selfish with your time, and all the aspects of you. Tinker with shit, travel, explore, love a lot, love a little, and never touch the ground.”
| Kyoko Escamilla (a.k.a Brain-Food) |
Even without a bell tower or quad, the collegiate mindset stays for however long you allow it. I am experimenting and exploring more now than the past four years. Do I regret not doing more of this when I was actually in college? Yes and no, but it’s never too late.
Credo
Idealism at its best, but it’s always important to set missions and goals.
1. I believe the next generation is charged with a challenge: to coalesce gracefully with a rapidly evolving world,
2. I believe the current status quo in institutional education does not equip us with relevant tools to meet this challenge, nor does it produce the best version of our selves,
3. I believe in devoting our technological resources toward empowering individuals to explore a wide array of interests, then providing opportunities to hone the skills deemed meaningful to each of us,
4. I believe in the need for a creation-based platform that displays our works as a learning package for others to follow,
5. I believe individuals should create their own curriculum: learning by consistently producing content that contributes to public discourse and education, and doing by connecting with the right people on collaborative projects,
6. I believe in using said platform to simultaneously craft our individual and shared biographies,
7. I believe that when we creatively express, discover, and collaborate among various disciplines, we can reach an unprecedented level of synergy in the world,
8.I believe that by creating this platform our generation will be more than able to meet the challenges presented,
9. And I believe the world will be a better place when we each find our bliss, beautifully giving to the world what it deserves of us.
Is it Serendipity, or Life?
Have you ever thought about how certain people entered your life? Not why, but simply how. What event planted the seeds for that life-changing friendship? Partnership? Love?
The answer is often as mundane as, ‘I had no choice. We were forced to work together on a group project.’ Or as awkward as ‘We both really liked cats and were the only ones who had nothing better to do than spend lots of time perusing the shelter on a Friday night.’ (true testimony)
Not all of our lives are blessed to be as beautifully serendipitous as those good-looking stars who reached for a pair of gloves, brushed hands, locked eyes, and fell in love in that movie called- ah yes, Serendipity.
But when you think about it, many of our lives do follow a similar story line, albeit in a slower, slighter lamer way.
Take my week for example. It’s been rather ordinary. I went to work, exercised, ate, talked on the phone, slept. Nothing worthy of writing to Hollywood about.
But returning to my original question: over the course of the week, who were some of the people I talked to and how did I meet them? Well, there’s the guy who I beat in a silly college debate competition and to this day, still can’t get over it. Then, there’s this girl who I was in a college organization with. Also, a man I sat next to at a random tech talk last month. Such amazingly blah stories!
But wait. The real juice lies in the details and progression:
Person #1- we started our rocky relationship as debate opponents; he called me Shark, I called him Aardvark. Fast forward through 4 years of this awkward name-calling and we’re now joining forces as partners in crime on a collaborative digital project. The details are still being hashed out, but what’s crazy is that our original competitive relationship has turned into something collaborative. Even crazier, we no longer resort to ugly animal nicknames but actual names (never mind that they still aren’t our real ones; we work with aliases.) To think, we might end up co-founding something together…
Person #2- former college acquaintance, now NYC roommate and good friend. We were both part of a large organization in college, which means we were merely friends by association. We found each other in New York at similar points in our lives and as fate would have it, ended up living together. We’re good for each other. She’s a great cook, an artist, and an insightful conversationalist- she teaches me so much about the joy of fresh flavor. I already sense a heightened appreciation for beauty because of her. We both encourage creativity and do what it takes to find inspiration for weekly projects. We also kick each other’s butts with Jillian Michaels so we keep each other in shape quite literally. I would have never guessed a year ago that we would be roommates, sharing deep conversations, and embarking on this New York journey together. I can only now marvel at how it was all in place to begin with…
Person #3- entrepreneur building an exciting iPhone app. He handed me an independent consulting agreement today, which effectively gives me access to the startup life I originally set out to learn. We met because I happened to sit next to him at a random Foursquare talk which I didn’t quite feel like going to, but for reasons I will never know (fate!) mustered motivation I didn’t know I had. While waiting for the talk to start, we made idle chat. After meeting, I casually followed up with him, sending him an email and a link to my blog, not really thinking much of it. Two days later, he writes that he likes my writing style and offers me an opportunity to develop launch strategy for the product. All based on a blog. Life certainly does work in funny ways…
——————
The most interesting tales are tales of progression, the ones that start with a view of the life before, then lead up to the uncanny circumstances that made it all happen, and finally culminate in a surprising conclusion with a life significantly changed from the beginning. The central message: “look how it all began…”
These are the stories worth writing about. What’s more, we all have them.
Hollywood may glamorize the lives of others, but when you think about the little events in your own life, doesn’t it play out like a movie in and of itself? Maybe I’m just easily enthralled, but I don’t think I’m the only one who marvels at the slow and calm forces of chance. Serendipity doesn’t happen overnight and it certainly isn’t as monumental as what we see in the movies. However, I find great awe and power in its normalcy. When I look at my life now, I know that the people in it are playing a role far greater than I can imagine. But wonder – when exposed to everyday – can easily turn stale, routine. It is only by viewing each commonplace interaction as something with a larger purpose that your thinking shifts and you begin to witness opportunity. Then life’s true possibility is unveiled.
———-
I think the future calls for each of us to craft our own story. It’s already happening. People all over the world publish volumes about themselves every second- on blogs, Twitter, forums, Facebook. I’m sure even private people marvel in the inner recesses of their souls at the way things happen in their lives.
We each have a story to tell. Call me a narcissist, but I don’t think we’re far from a future where we are all movies stars. We’ve already been handed the lead roles. The question is, how do we craft an individual narrative that is real and compelling to ourselves?
Moving In, 2012
Not for me. On New Years Day, I officially moved to New York. So far, it’s been a dream too good to be true; part of me is just waiting to wake up. Fortunately the Chrysler building proceeds to stare back from the window every morning. For now, I’m still in a sweet sweet dream.
———-
I came to the city last month for a job interview, though in reality I didn’t care much for the job . As fate would have it, they didn’t care much for me either. I was then able to continue with my real reason for coming up: to learn more about the NY tech startup scene.
The great thing about the tech industry is that it lives online. Everything is open, connected, and completely accessible. Startup offices don’t have front desks or secretaries. There is no barrier to entry. If you really want, you can waltz right in to startup headquarters with no appointment, no affiliation, not even a suit or tie. So that’s what I did.
I visited the offices of a few startups, including Grooveshark, Skillshare, and 33Across. I attended a Foursquare talk. I talked with fellow free-lancers at co-working spaces like the New Work Community. I’ve been able to meet talented and forward-thinking people like filmmaker Jason Silva who are willing and kind enough to dish out helpful advice to a tech newbie like me. Not coming from a tech background, I initially wasn’t sure what niche I could fill. My training has been in producing content, but all I have are a few bylines and reporting standups to my name, none of which are entirely relevant to a digital cutting-edge world. Anyway, the question remains: “How do I stand out?” The answer is still being drafted.
——–
For the time being, I’ve found some part-time gigs to pay the bills and quench my entrepreneurial thirst. I’m working as a personal and editorial assistant for the owner of a vintage wine shop in Harlem. While it’s slightly comical that I, of all people, am charged with organizing someone else’s life (if you looked at my room right now, you’d laugh), I actually think I’m suited for the job. I flex my social media muscle, build online strategy, help write a wine column, and drink wine! All while learning about the serious business of owning a local business. It’s completely different from academia, but I’m intrigued. It has since spurred my interest in learning about strategy behind some of the most successful small businesses. Walk the streets of New York and there are so many examples of ingenious business brands. Since I am charged with the task of ramping up social advertising/PR efforts for the store, I am using the city as my textbook.
In the meantime, the flexible nature of my work allows me to continue dabbling in other fields I want to experiment in, mainly:
- Videos/Film-making/Storytelling
- Networked Knowledge
- Emerging Technology
- Education
Eventually, all of these will converge. Here’s to moving in, 2012.
My 2012 Theme Word: Forward.
Last year around this time, I dubbed 2011 the year of flight. I meant that in all positive respects. Literally, I wanted to take off and explore more of the world. Metaphorically, I wanted to escape my comfort zone. The overall goal was to not be bound to anything too familiar that limited my potential.
Well, I flew for sure. If 3 months romping around Europe teaching English to Italian kiddies and going broke doesn’t fulfill the free-spirited vow I made to myself, then maybe next time I’ll go to Tibet and become a monk.
What I learned while living out of a suitcase is that no matter how hard I try, I’m not a minimalist traveler. My oversized luggage will forever label me that girl with too much ‘baggage’. I’m pretty sure my suitcase caused me more trouble than even my lack of Italian with all the times I had to check that damn thing in ‘baggage deposit’.
More importantly, I spent a lot of time in 2011…lost. While navigating the streets of Europe, I constantly faced the question: zig or zag? With no smart phone to turn to, I was left with no other option but to zig and zag. 3 hours later, with the original destination still nowhere in sight, I settled for hidden gems in unknown territory. When you’re hungry, everything is delicious. You learn to enjoy the scenery regardless.
Back in the States, I did the same. I zigzagged between life paths. Zigging toward Teach for America one month, then deviating toward 30 Rock in pursuit of their page program, zagging toward a startup venture back in Gainesville, and finally jetting off to New York for what remains to be seen. I mulled over each prospect deeply, so deeply that I emerged out of the maze of my mind less sure about the original intent. And with a glorious headache.
2011 was the year of flight because I took off and jumped from city to city with no set direction. And honestly, that’s what I wanted. I neglected to build a mental map because I wanted the freedom to go without one. Also, I didn’t know where I wanted to go. But now I think I know.
For my 2012 theme word, I debated between words like intent, care, and focus. My thinking was that I once was a flighty bird, now it’s time to build a nest. Think of my intent. Handle everything with care.
But what am I? A nesting bird? There’s a time and place for everything. I don’t believe that 2012 calls for nesting, settling or more thinking. The biggest challenge now is to actually take the plunge. Move forward.
2011 was a year of zigs and zags, arrivals and departures, flights. Since May, I haven’t stayed in one place for more than a month before venturing elsewhere to try something new. I emerge out of the maze happy to have survived, but like a shaken up child just off a roller coaster, I realize now back on solid ground that I haven’t actually moved forward.
I’ll try to be realistic here. If I can make just one tiny decision that moves me closer to being my best self- whatever that entails, wherever that may be- that’s success in my flighty mind. 2012 is the year forward.
What’s your theme word for 2012?
