The other day, I was checking a girl into her residence hall room as part of my RA job. We were casually chatting when I decided to ask her what year she was... to which she replied "oh, I'm a junior"... to which I replied, "Wow, you're halfway done with college!"
And it took me a minute to realize what exactly the words plummeting out of my mouth meant.
Let's review the facts:
1. I have completed two years of college.
2. She has completed two years of college.
3. She said she was a junior.
4. That also makes me a junior.
5. That means I'm halfway through college.
Say whaaaaat? When did that happen??
It's weirding me out so much to think that I am that person -- that super old junior -- little first-year Angela looked up to not-so-long-ago. Or at least, I'm making progress toward being that person.
I came to college anxious, but I didn't come afraid. (Look at the blog I posted right before moving away for the first time!) I was willing to brave this new corn-filled state, new classes, and new challenges without a second thought. For a long time, I thought my bravery was enough. If I showed up and made it through, I had accomplished something.
Largely, that's true, and I am incredibly proud of the strong perseverance I hold. But what I failed to realize then was how much confidence and passion play a role in cultivating dreams. Showing up, and even showing up and doing your best, isn't enough. You've gotta put some heart into it. You've gotta show people that you care about what you are doing: that it's not just a thing you do, but rather the only way you can do your thing.
Sometimes, that passion means disappointing people. It means letting some things go so you can hold other things tighter. It means prioritizing. It means spelling things wrong in an email every once in a while so you can spend an extra 5 minutes playing the guitar you've dreamed of playing since you were 10. It means waking up early on a Saturday morning -- even though you are exhausted -- so you can volunteer at a community clinic (and not just to put it on your resume). It means knowing what you want most, even through the noise of everybody telling you what you should want.
For most of my first two years, I didn't understand that. I felt so bitter and confused about why I was working so hard (and in my mind, harder than a lot of other people) and still feeling like I wasn't valued or trusted as much as my classmates. I absorbed myself even more into my work -- into my grades, into my jobs, into my "duties" -- to prove my worth to myself. And even after 14 years of school with straight As, even after successfully juggling four on-campus jobs alongside sorority and club commitments, even after all the special projects and extras, I still felt like I had nothing to show for myself. Talk about burn-out.
Things are still pretty unclear, and honestly, I don't think that's going to get better any time soon. We're told from the time we are little to "follow our dreams," but we're not exactly told how to figure out what they are in the first place, let alone how to pick which ones to follow. It takes a lot more than pixie dust. Day by day, though, I am learning how to listen a little more to my heart. I am learning to feel the difference between satisfaction and contentment -- satisfaction is only temporary, but contentment is deep and longstanding. I should do those things that will keep this fire of passion burning within me for longer than the four years I am here. Those will be the dreams that last.
So, yes, I am halfway done with college. But who's counting? Passion isn't on a schedule, and there's no due date. That is the only fact that really matters.
:)
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Friday, August 8, 2014
Summer Camp Round 2: Magic, Synergy, and Kindness
I just got home from working at an amazing summer camp, and I think I am going through a tiny bit of a reverse culture shock process. It's difficult to go from a Neverland filled with fairies and dreams to a house filled with homework and bills. So, I am going to stall that process a little by sharing with you all the lessons I learned over the (mostly) internet-less past two months.
1. Get a real-life job, have a real-life life. Get a magical job, have a magical life.
Ok, this seriously comes up ALL the time in this blog, but this concept of the "real world" freaks me out. Like a lot. But the more I think about it, the more I realize how cruel it is that as a young adult, I am conditioned to believe the "real world" is this thing that's out to get me someday. I know, I know, all the fun ends when I graduate and I will rue the day when I chose to think about anything but paying off my student loans. What?? HOW does that kind of paradigm benefit anyone? The truth is, I don't want or need the "real world." If camp teaches anything, it's that magic is everywhere you wish it to be. A dining hall transforms into Queen Elsa's coronation with just a few snowflakes and "Let it Go" playing. That's the realm I can choose to live in -- one where I can care more about the smile on a child's face than about how she is affording to be there. If that means I need a reality check, so be it.
2. Teamwork is easier when you are all striving toward a common goal.
Coming from college to camp is quite the transition. In college, everyone is doing their own thing. Different customized majors, different extracurriculars, different friend circles, different schedules... etc. And while we can certainly rally around a cause (Flunk Day, anyone? Midnight breakfast during finals?), it's not feasible all the time. At camp, on the other hand, we have one priority: our campers. Even while we are all with different age groups doing different activities, every action we take comes back to the campers' growth, happiness, health, and safety. There's no conflict of interest when the buildings need to be cleaned before they arrive or when a homesick camper needs a little TLC. Every single person is ready to buckle down and get it done because that's why we are there. I think that kind of clarity and focus can be beneficial to any organization. While it is undoubtedly easier to accomplish when the staff lives in the same place they work (the job becomes the life), it's a good thing to keep in mind.
3. Who you work with matters more than where you work.
For goodness sake, be a good co-worker! It makes so much of a difference. This summer, I worked in the same unit every week with one particular counselor whom I trusted to the ends of the earth. We had pretty similar personalities and our communication was spot-on. She saved me so many times and took care of the things I didn't remember. We were placed in some units that weren't exactly in our element (AKA the farm), but we were able to overcome and give our campers an awesome experience because of the joy and confidence we gained from each other. Unfortunately, co-workers aren't normally in our control... but just remember, your attitude and level of responsibility and all that good stuff matters a lot in making a positive place to work.
4. Giving to others allows you to give to yourself.
Camp forces me to be brave, persistent, and selfless. All things that I want to be, and all things I probably wouldn't be if I didn't have the responsibility of 24 children. If we're stuck in the middle of a lightning storm, my presence has to convince them things will be ok. I can't accomplish that if I am freaking out. If I can't figure out how to make the bead animal, I have to keep trying... because to give up would be telling them to give up, too. And when I am exhausted and just want to sleep, I have to keep going... because to stop caring is to tell them they are not worthwhile. There are so many people out there who could use a helping hand and a caring heart. If you can't become the person you want to be for yourself, do it for one of them. You reap the benefits, and so do they.
5. Listen. REALLY listen. And remember.
I can't tell you how many times a camper will tell me a story and I will suddenly start thinking about my to-do list, how my food is digesting, my weekend plans, and anything else that isn't the story. It's ridiculous. I end up so upset with myself that I missed this little tidbit of her life -- this little tidbit that could tell me so much about who she is and what she needs. On the other hand, when I take the time (and energy!) to actively listen, our bond forms so much more quickly and strongly. We have a launching point for future conversations and situations. Take time to listen. Stop what you are doing. Visualize what they are saying. It matters.
6. Smiles and kind words go a long way.
There were so many times when someone said "You're doing a great job" or made a funny face in my direction and it brightened my day. And when I was feeling refreshed and optimistic, I was better at my job. It doesn't take a lot of effort, just a lot of willingness. Put yourself out there and let others know you appreciate them. Just do it.
7. No matter how much time you have, take time to laugh.
Sometimes, laughter is better than sleep. There were many times when we put the campers to sleep and then had a short meeting with only the counselors. Many of those times, our meetings turned into funny stories and laughter. And occasionally, we went to bed much later than we should have. It was always worth it; some of my favorite memories from the entire summer come from those few minutes. Having just a little while to unwind and deconstruct the monsters we had created in our minds helped us sleep better and feel better the next day. Never be too focused to laugh. You need it like you need air.
Well, there we go. Heading back to school tomorrow... wish me luck in taking back these lessons and transitioning yet again. Much love to you all.
1. Get a real-life job, have a real-life life. Get a magical job, have a magical life.
Ok, this seriously comes up ALL the time in this blog, but this concept of the "real world" freaks me out. Like a lot. But the more I think about it, the more I realize how cruel it is that as a young adult, I am conditioned to believe the "real world" is this thing that's out to get me someday. I know, I know, all the fun ends when I graduate and I will rue the day when I chose to think about anything but paying off my student loans. What?? HOW does that kind of paradigm benefit anyone? The truth is, I don't want or need the "real world." If camp teaches anything, it's that magic is everywhere you wish it to be. A dining hall transforms into Queen Elsa's coronation with just a few snowflakes and "Let it Go" playing. That's the realm I can choose to live in -- one where I can care more about the smile on a child's face than about how she is affording to be there. If that means I need a reality check, so be it.
2. Teamwork is easier when you are all striving toward a common goal.
Coming from college to camp is quite the transition. In college, everyone is doing their own thing. Different customized majors, different extracurriculars, different friend circles, different schedules... etc. And while we can certainly rally around a cause (Flunk Day, anyone? Midnight breakfast during finals?), it's not feasible all the time. At camp, on the other hand, we have one priority: our campers. Even while we are all with different age groups doing different activities, every action we take comes back to the campers' growth, happiness, health, and safety. There's no conflict of interest when the buildings need to be cleaned before they arrive or when a homesick camper needs a little TLC. Every single person is ready to buckle down and get it done because that's why we are there. I think that kind of clarity and focus can be beneficial to any organization. While it is undoubtedly easier to accomplish when the staff lives in the same place they work (the job becomes the life), it's a good thing to keep in mind.
3. Who you work with matters more than where you work.
For goodness sake, be a good co-worker! It makes so much of a difference. This summer, I worked in the same unit every week with one particular counselor whom I trusted to the ends of the earth. We had pretty similar personalities and our communication was spot-on. She saved me so many times and took care of the things I didn't remember. We were placed in some units that weren't exactly in our element (AKA the farm), but we were able to overcome and give our campers an awesome experience because of the joy and confidence we gained from each other. Unfortunately, co-workers aren't normally in our control... but just remember, your attitude and level of responsibility and all that good stuff matters a lot in making a positive place to work.
4. Giving to others allows you to give to yourself.
Camp forces me to be brave, persistent, and selfless. All things that I want to be, and all things I probably wouldn't be if I didn't have the responsibility of 24 children. If we're stuck in the middle of a lightning storm, my presence has to convince them things will be ok. I can't accomplish that if I am freaking out. If I can't figure out how to make the bead animal, I have to keep trying... because to give up would be telling them to give up, too. And when I am exhausted and just want to sleep, I have to keep going... because to stop caring is to tell them they are not worthwhile. There are so many people out there who could use a helping hand and a caring heart. If you can't become the person you want to be for yourself, do it for one of them. You reap the benefits, and so do they.
5. Listen. REALLY listen. And remember.
I can't tell you how many times a camper will tell me a story and I will suddenly start thinking about my to-do list, how my food is digesting, my weekend plans, and anything else that isn't the story. It's ridiculous. I end up so upset with myself that I missed this little tidbit of her life -- this little tidbit that could tell me so much about who she is and what she needs. On the other hand, when I take the time (and energy!) to actively listen, our bond forms so much more quickly and strongly. We have a launching point for future conversations and situations. Take time to listen. Stop what you are doing. Visualize what they are saying. It matters.
6. Smiles and kind words go a long way.
There were so many times when someone said "You're doing a great job" or made a funny face in my direction and it brightened my day. And when I was feeling refreshed and optimistic, I was better at my job. It doesn't take a lot of effort, just a lot of willingness. Put yourself out there and let others know you appreciate them. Just do it.
7. No matter how much time you have, take time to laugh.
Sometimes, laughter is better than sleep. There were many times when we put the campers to sleep and then had a short meeting with only the counselors. Many of those times, our meetings turned into funny stories and laughter. And occasionally, we went to bed much later than we should have. It was always worth it; some of my favorite memories from the entire summer come from those few minutes. Having just a little while to unwind and deconstruct the monsters we had created in our minds helped us sleep better and feel better the next day. Never be too focused to laugh. You need it like you need air.
Well, there we go. Heading back to school tomorrow... wish me luck in taking back these lessons and transitioning yet again. Much love to you all.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Star Gazing, Inside
As summer finally approaches, I find myself among the cool night breeze and thousands of stars.
Most of the time in this situation, I'm complaining about how it's cold, how I can't find my flashlight, and how, for the thousandth time, I don't see Orion. But tonight, I have something a little deeper on my mind.
Call me a bad camp counselor, but I've never been incredibly fond of stargazing. I've never really liked darkness (it still scares me a little) and I've never liked being cold (really, just me being picky). Beyond those small qualms, though, I find stargazing to be incredibly difficult. When everyone else is noticing all these cool constellations, I stare at the sky, seeing nothing but a bunch of separate dots scattered and displaced.
Don't get me wrong -- there's something so inspiring about staring at something so vast and static. When I first lay down and look up, I love stargazing. It's when I try and fail to see the patterns -- to make sense of it -- that my frustration begins and I lose my sense of wonder.
Note that I don't lose my wonder because I see the constellations, but rather because I don't and I want to. Seeing the patterns -- being able to categorize the stars in almost a hundred different ways and appreciate them through a hundred different lenses -- I think would increase my sense of wonder.
The inspiration I feel when first laying down would be augmented through clearer understanding, not threatened.
Now, life. This past semester especially, I've fought a lot with the idea, "Who am I?" It's pretty common for someone my age, but that doesn't change that it's grueling to figure out. To make matters a little more complicated, I often feel the pressure of society asking me instead: "What do you do?"
Perhaps this is idealistic and even pompous, but I don't think what I do is equivalent to who I am. There's a lot more that burns within me than the 24-hour days can allow me to express. And while I do think it's true that you spend time on the things that are most important to you, I don't want my identity to be confined to only those things. I wish I could be a billboard: easy, understandable, and concise. A life dedicated to a single cause or idea, one simple career goal, one personal statement, a one-page resume. But really, what's in me is the starry sky, complete with the occasional night chill, darkness, a lot of frustration, and hopefully a lot of wonder.
This summer, I have a new goal: I will see the constellations in the starry night. It might be disillusioning at times, but I won't stop searching. And I won't stop searching for the constellations within myself, either. Just because it doesn't fit together right away doesn't mean it's not worthwhile.
I will sip this hot cocoa and stare into the night. I will brave the cold winds and the darkness. Even if I can never fully explain or even understand the full picture, I will patiently piece together who I am -- one constellation at a time.
Most of the time in this situation, I'm complaining about how it's cold, how I can't find my flashlight, and how, for the thousandth time, I don't see Orion. But tonight, I have something a little deeper on my mind.
Call me a bad camp counselor, but I've never been incredibly fond of stargazing. I've never really liked darkness (it still scares me a little) and I've never liked being cold (really, just me being picky). Beyond those small qualms, though, I find stargazing to be incredibly difficult. When everyone else is noticing all these cool constellations, I stare at the sky, seeing nothing but a bunch of separate dots scattered and displaced.
Don't get me wrong -- there's something so inspiring about staring at something so vast and static. When I first lay down and look up, I love stargazing. It's when I try and fail to see the patterns -- to make sense of it -- that my frustration begins and I lose my sense of wonder.
Note that I don't lose my wonder because I see the constellations, but rather because I don't and I want to. Seeing the patterns -- being able to categorize the stars in almost a hundred different ways and appreciate them through a hundred different lenses -- I think would increase my sense of wonder.
The inspiration I feel when first laying down would be augmented through clearer understanding, not threatened.
Now, life. This past semester especially, I've fought a lot with the idea, "Who am I?" It's pretty common for someone my age, but that doesn't change that it's grueling to figure out. To make matters a little more complicated, I often feel the pressure of society asking me instead: "What do you do?"
Perhaps this is idealistic and even pompous, but I don't think what I do is equivalent to who I am. There's a lot more that burns within me than the 24-hour days can allow me to express. And while I do think it's true that you spend time on the things that are most important to you, I don't want my identity to be confined to only those things. I wish I could be a billboard: easy, understandable, and concise. A life dedicated to a single cause or idea, one simple career goal, one personal statement, a one-page resume. But really, what's in me is the starry sky, complete with the occasional night chill, darkness, a lot of frustration, and hopefully a lot of wonder.
This summer, I have a new goal: I will see the constellations in the starry night. It might be disillusioning at times, but I won't stop searching. And I won't stop searching for the constellations within myself, either. Just because it doesn't fit together right away doesn't mean it's not worthwhile.
I will sip this hot cocoa and stare into the night. I will brave the cold winds and the darkness. Even if I can never fully explain or even understand the full picture, I will patiently piece together who I am -- one constellation at a time.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Why I Study English
I've been thinking a lot today about why I am an English major. I'm 20. I have to consider the rest of my life right now. I have to make plans that theoretically will last for years to come. Even if my interests are drastically different 20, 30, or 40 years from now, I can very likely only go to college once... and college is hailed to be the all-powerful factor which determines your job... Which, in United States society, determines your life. It's all perfectly laid out in this hierarchy, and I'm currently building the foundational layer.
I could give you all this hoity-toity rhetoric about how I am following my heart, how I feel called to an English major, how it's the only thing I could be truly happy doing for the rest of my life. Some of that is a little bit true. Most of it is stuff I hear from other people and adopt to make myself feel better.
To be honest, I'm an English major because I truly, deeply feel it is making me a better human being. And if I'm a better human being, I can accomplish more in any path I choose.
Reading is really just active listening. It's listening to the wonders, heartaches, joys, surprises, and complaints of humankind throughout the ages. It adds depth to my lifespan, contributing experiences and ideas that my time here on earth cannot possibly offer. It reminds me how vast the universe is, yet never makes me seem insignificant. In fact, it makes me feel like every individual experience I have counts for something, for this greater collective song of humanity.
It's idealistic, I'm aware -- but I am fully confident that it will strengthen my character and allow me to make the best possible decisions when the time is appropriate.
I'll leave you with this little quote in William Wordsworth's Preface to Lyrical Ballads. Most of the time I don't agree with Wordsworth's opinions of poetry, but I do like this (even-more-idealistic-than-me) little snippet about the role of the poet:
"He is the rock of defence for human nature; an upholder and preserver, carrying everywhere with him relationship and love. In spite of the difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs: in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed; the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time."
My interests might change, but whatever humanity is made of -- this stuff that goes deeper than jobs or expectations -- clearly doesn't. That's why I study English.
I could give you all this hoity-toity rhetoric about how I am following my heart, how I feel called to an English major, how it's the only thing I could be truly happy doing for the rest of my life. Some of that is a little bit true. Most of it is stuff I hear from other people and adopt to make myself feel better.
To be honest, I'm an English major because I truly, deeply feel it is making me a better human being. And if I'm a better human being, I can accomplish more in any path I choose.
Reading is really just active listening. It's listening to the wonders, heartaches, joys, surprises, and complaints of humankind throughout the ages. It adds depth to my lifespan, contributing experiences and ideas that my time here on earth cannot possibly offer. It reminds me how vast the universe is, yet never makes me seem insignificant. In fact, it makes me feel like every individual experience I have counts for something, for this greater collective song of humanity.
It's idealistic, I'm aware -- but I am fully confident that it will strengthen my character and allow me to make the best possible decisions when the time is appropriate.
I'll leave you with this little quote in William Wordsworth's Preface to Lyrical Ballads. Most of the time I don't agree with Wordsworth's opinions of poetry, but I do like this (even-more-idealistic-than-me) little snippet about the role of the poet:
"He is the rock of defence for human nature; an upholder and preserver, carrying everywhere with him relationship and love. In spite of the difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs: in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed; the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time."
My interests might change, but whatever humanity is made of -- this stuff that goes deeper than jobs or expectations -- clearly doesn't. That's why I study English.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Battle of the Characteristics: "Nice" vs. "Kind"
Another Friday night of tea and blogging.... RA duty has its advantages.
This week, I've been thinking a lot about the difference between being "nice" and being "kind." I tend to group the two words together, using them as synonyms. The more I think about it, though, the more I realize that they are two fundamentally different qualities.
I'm often told that I am nice. If I were to describe myself, I would also say I am nice. I smile a lot. I hold doors open for people. I don't get angry easily... and if I do, I don't show it. I let others go before me in line. I give my friend the bigger half of the cookie. And I definitely never let the weekend start without telling everyone, far and wide, "Have a good weekend, (insert name here)!"
But do these things also make me kind?
My case for a difference between "nice" and "kind" starts with someone important in my life: my high school speech and debate coach/English teacher. With the exception of my parents, Mrs. Carochi has helped me more than anyone I know. There are the obvious ways: She taught me a heck of a lot about English, which is now one of my college majors and a point of lifelong learning. She taught me how to write and perform a piece that will move and persuade others toward a better life through speech. She taught me how to carry my weight as a member of a team and how to delegate. Then there are the hidden ways, the ways that only I can fully understand. She is the reason I knew anything about how to apply to college, let alone how to apply to the right college. A year later, she was the reason I didn't transfer from that right college when things got difficult. She is one of the reasons I made it through my first real heartbreak. The list goes on.
Aside: Mrs. Carochi was just inducted into the Colorado High School Activities Association Hall of Fame, and she was inducted into the National Forensics League Hall of Fame a few years ago. Other people think she is just as great as I do.
Mrs. Carochi was never considered a nice teacher. She was "hard," she was "mean," and she was "stubborn." You didn't want to be around her when she is angry -- she can and will take your birthday away. Every student in Honors English feared the wrath of her red pen all over every paper. All the same, Mrs. Carochi, for the reasons outlined above, is among the kindest people I think I will ever meet.
I think the difference between "nice" and "kind" is a matter of intention. For me, being nice is a lot easier than being kind. Being nice just means I have to respond to the environment around me in a way that is pleasant toward others. It doesn't require a lot of sacrifice... smiling takes fewer muscles than frowning, so the legend says. Being kind, however, requires that I bring something original to my environment with the intention of making someone's life better. It calls for me to give of myself continuously, even when I don't feel like it or don't have time. It calls for me to bake delicious cookies from scratch with the intention of giving the whole batch to someone, not just to give the bigger half of a crummy chocolate chip cookie I already have.
The hardest part of this for me to accept is that being kind sometimes goes directly against being nice. Making someone's life better isn't always pleasant. I never enjoyed Mrs. Carochi's red pen on my papers, but I always appreciated it.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not hatin' on being nice. Often, I think being nice can open a path toward being kind. Being nice establishes approachability and an inkling of trust, making others more receptive to kindness. But there comes a point when being nice isn't enough, and being kind must take priority.
Kindness... it's more than a happy disposition.
This week, I've been thinking a lot about the difference between being "nice" and being "kind." I tend to group the two words together, using them as synonyms. The more I think about it, though, the more I realize that they are two fundamentally different qualities.
I'm often told that I am nice. If I were to describe myself, I would also say I am nice. I smile a lot. I hold doors open for people. I don't get angry easily... and if I do, I don't show it. I let others go before me in line. I give my friend the bigger half of the cookie. And I definitely never let the weekend start without telling everyone, far and wide, "Have a good weekend, (insert name here)!"
But do these things also make me kind?
My case for a difference between "nice" and "kind" starts with someone important in my life: my high school speech and debate coach/English teacher. With the exception of my parents, Mrs. Carochi has helped me more than anyone I know. There are the obvious ways: She taught me a heck of a lot about English, which is now one of my college majors and a point of lifelong learning. She taught me how to write and perform a piece that will move and persuade others toward a better life through speech. She taught me how to carry my weight as a member of a team and how to delegate. Then there are the hidden ways, the ways that only I can fully understand. She is the reason I knew anything about how to apply to college, let alone how to apply to the right college. A year later, she was the reason I didn't transfer from that right college when things got difficult. She is one of the reasons I made it through my first real heartbreak. The list goes on.
Aside: Mrs. Carochi was just inducted into the Colorado High School Activities Association Hall of Fame, and she was inducted into the National Forensics League Hall of Fame a few years ago. Other people think she is just as great as I do.
Mrs. Carochi was never considered a nice teacher. She was "hard," she was "mean," and she was "stubborn." You didn't want to be around her when she is angry -- she can and will take your birthday away. Every student in Honors English feared the wrath of her red pen all over every paper. All the same, Mrs. Carochi, for the reasons outlined above, is among the kindest people I think I will ever meet.
I think the difference between "nice" and "kind" is a matter of intention. For me, being nice is a lot easier than being kind. Being nice just means I have to respond to the environment around me in a way that is pleasant toward others. It doesn't require a lot of sacrifice... smiling takes fewer muscles than frowning, so the legend says. Being kind, however, requires that I bring something original to my environment with the intention of making someone's life better. It calls for me to give of myself continuously, even when I don't feel like it or don't have time. It calls for me to bake delicious cookies from scratch with the intention of giving the whole batch to someone, not just to give the bigger half of a crummy chocolate chip cookie I already have.
The hardest part of this for me to accept is that being kind sometimes goes directly against being nice. Making someone's life better isn't always pleasant. I never enjoyed Mrs. Carochi's red pen on my papers, but I always appreciated it.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not hatin' on being nice. Often, I think being nice can open a path toward being kind. Being nice establishes approachability and an inkling of trust, making others more receptive to kindness. But there comes a point when being nice isn't enough, and being kind must take priority.
Kindness... it's more than a happy disposition.
Friday, January 24, 2014
A Frappuccino-Free Fortnight
Two small updates:
1. About three posts back, I promised I would write about my 3rd adventure of the summer. That's still coming. I've just decided to wait a little longer and expand it. You'll see.
2. I'm going to try to blog more often, likely about pseudo-significant things, in an effort to commit to the activities that matter to me (like telling the entire universe about my thoughts, apparently). It comes with a series of small changes this semester -- including eating right, exercising, and sleeping enough.
Which brings us to the topic of this post -- my life for the past two weeks without coffee.
I know, it seems like a bigger deal than it actually is. It's coffee, but sometimes it feels like it's my blood. I associate coffee with getting stuff done, with being successful, with not offending my professors with incessant yawns... etc.
Really, my coffee habits reveal a much more maladaptive thought process... one where I am defined by my productivity. It sounds like a formula that works: If a person does a lot, it must mean they care a lot. And if they care a lot, they are a good person. Obviously.
Then I realized that I cried almost every Monday because I had too many meetings and too much homework and too little time. And I realized that my budget could not afford any more Vitamin C/DayQuill/jasmine green tea from getting sick over and over. And I realized that no one likes being around grouchy, stressed Angela. And perhaps most crucial to this post, I realized that I actually was accomplishing very little.
Now that I've made some changes, the premise of accomplishing tasks at all costs is just plain annoying to me. I am not defined by my resume. We've been talking in statistics about the difference between a model and a real-world event or object. My resume is a model of me, not the real deal. In psychology, the model is often a sample of the population. The sample must be representative of the population in order to generalize the results. I only have a narrow sliver of my life on that resume -- not even close to a representative sample of sorts. Rather than drawing conclusions, I should be working to improve the model... to broaden my experiences and explore all the potential aspects of myself. (Luckily, informed consent won't be a problem). Furthermore, If I am basing my experiences on what others want rather than who I (think) I am/might be, I am making a model that actually doesn't represent me -- and that's just counterproductive.
So, I stopped drinking coffee, meaning I also make myself go to bed by a decent hour. I manage my time better and I choose to engage in activities that represent who I want to be, not just activities that I feel obligated to participate in. I take up an entire hour for dinner with my friends, because they might never be on my resume, but they are still a meaningful part of my life. And sometimes, I snuggle up in my electric blanket and write a blog post, slowly sipping lovely Russian tea from Paris.
Life is sweet.
Expect to see more blog posts more often... but feel free to forgo the coffee while you read. Or maybe just drink decaf. You define how much you do -- it doesn't define you.
1. About three posts back, I promised I would write about my 3rd adventure of the summer. That's still coming. I've just decided to wait a little longer and expand it. You'll see.
2. I'm going to try to blog more often, likely about pseudo-significant things, in an effort to commit to the activities that matter to me (like telling the entire universe about my thoughts, apparently). It comes with a series of small changes this semester -- including eating right, exercising, and sleeping enough.
Which brings us to the topic of this post -- my life for the past two weeks without coffee.
I know, it seems like a bigger deal than it actually is. It's coffee, but sometimes it feels like it's my blood. I associate coffee with getting stuff done, with being successful, with not offending my professors with incessant yawns... etc.
Really, my coffee habits reveal a much more maladaptive thought process... one where I am defined by my productivity. It sounds like a formula that works: If a person does a lot, it must mean they care a lot. And if they care a lot, they are a good person. Obviously.
Then I realized that I cried almost every Monday because I had too many meetings and too much homework and too little time. And I realized that my budget could not afford any more Vitamin C/DayQuill/jasmine green tea from getting sick over and over. And I realized that no one likes being around grouchy, stressed Angela. And perhaps most crucial to this post, I realized that I actually was accomplishing very little.
Now that I've made some changes, the premise of accomplishing tasks at all costs is just plain annoying to me. I am not defined by my resume. We've been talking in statistics about the difference between a model and a real-world event or object. My resume is a model of me, not the real deal. In psychology, the model is often a sample of the population. The sample must be representative of the population in order to generalize the results. I only have a narrow sliver of my life on that resume -- not even close to a representative sample of sorts. Rather than drawing conclusions, I should be working to improve the model... to broaden my experiences and explore all the potential aspects of myself. (Luckily, informed consent won't be a problem). Furthermore, If I am basing my experiences on what others want rather than who I (think) I am/might be, I am making a model that actually doesn't represent me -- and that's just counterproductive.
So, I stopped drinking coffee, meaning I also make myself go to bed by a decent hour. I manage my time better and I choose to engage in activities that represent who I want to be, not just activities that I feel obligated to participate in. I take up an entire hour for dinner with my friends, because they might never be on my resume, but they are still a meaningful part of my life. And sometimes, I snuggle up in my electric blanket and write a blog post, slowly sipping lovely Russian tea from Paris.
Life is sweet.
Expect to see more blog posts more often... but feel free to forgo the coffee while you read. Or maybe just drink decaf. You define how much you do -- it doesn't define you.
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