How to be a Second Semester Senior

Have a quarter life crisis: question what you've done, what you're doing, and where you'll be in three months. Even if you have a job, have a paranoid fear that your contract might be rescinded at any point in time. Even if you've been admitted to grad school, have doubts about the immense amount of debt you're about to perpetuate.

Regret everything. That freshman year hookup. That guy you never talked to across a crowded room. Playing too hard to get. Not playing the game. Last night. Not spending enough time on academics. Not studying finance, medicine, or engineering. Not spending enough time with friends. How much time you wasted on tv shows, video games, and being hungover.

Have an overly inflated idea about where you'll be in five years. Because five years from now you'll have it all figured out. A career, a boyfriend, and the perfect apartment. Forget that you have no idea what you actually want to do with your life. Ignore the absurd housing prices in NYC. Avoid the fact that you'll be paying off student loans for the next five years (gotya bitch). 

For some reason you cling onto advice more violently than ever before. Conversations that used to be about your latest crush or that date from last week seem insignificant to life discussions about career, family, and the overwhelming loom that is the future.

Secretly compare yourself to everyone. They seem to have it all figured out. Their lives sound beautiful, exciting, perfect.

Reach out, to everyone you might have wronged or hurt. People might ask if you're in a rehab program. Eight step program? Twelve steps? Alcohol's Anonymous? Actually, that might be a good idea. Insist that you're genuine, and have been meaning to apologize forever.

Stop. And appreciate everything. Yolo, right? That annoying kid in your chem engineering class who you never got along with? Suddenly you're in a forgiving mood despite the fact that he never pulled his weight in a project. Give your best friend from sophomore year a second chance. That ridiculously monotone Econ professor? Looking back, her demeanor was almost endearing despite the fish glazed eyes in the room.

Pay attention in class. Suddenly it seems that college has always been the place to fulfill your intellectual curiosity about all subjects. That random photog class you're in now, the scuba diving class everyone is raving about, and the ballroom dance class you couldn't fit into your schedule suddenly seem so appealing. Why couldn't you stay in school longer? Ignore the fact that you've skipped classes all the time, that you've hated certain professors, dreaded group projects, and how you've spent the last four years constantly worried  more about your weekend plans than your future plans for all of college.

Ignore your parents. As they start to pester you about next year, reply nonchalantly that they shouldn't worry. That you're not too concerned. Secretly panic as their anxiety rubs off on you.

When people ask about what you're doing next year, have five different answers ready. Preparing for the GRE/MCAT/LSAT/GMAT, looking for a job near home and living with your parents to save money, traveling to the middle of no where Turkmenistan, or working as a slave for some unknown nonprofit for a year before grad school. Those all seem like solid plans. You're breaking into a nervous sweat? Oh, don't worry -- that's just your excitement about leaving college. (psych)

Pretend you care. Talk to everyone, including familiar strangers. It's your last chance to get to know people you never bothered even nodding to when you passed them on the green.   Make empty promises to people about getting together for drinks. Take that shot with that random girl from your English lit class last semester. She's so much more fun than you gave her credit for -- not that anyone's level of fun can be surmised after one socratic seminar.

You're friends with everyone and everyone is friends with you. Bond over the fact that this is the last semester of your college career. The last deadline, the last paper, the last time signing up for classes. The last time you'll ever have a chance to see these people. Oh and while you're at it, stop hyperventilating. 

Laugh. At everyone's Facebook pictures from freshman year. At the dumb drunk, high, and otherwise inebriated moments. At your fears, especially since you're probably better off than most Americans without a college degree. 

Make stats up about how unemployment is at an all time low for the first time since 08. Oh wait, it actually is. Take solace in the fact that you can always move in with your parents, or pursue that fashion design career you've been dreaming about.  

Fear working at McDonald's. Or that you'll hate your job, even though you haven't even started. Have irrational worries that you'll never meet anyone after college. That you're not smart enough. Or pretty enough. That you really didn't learn anything useful in college.

Realize. That if college was the best four years of your life -- then you have much larger problems than just next year's plan. The best has yet to come. 

Relax. You're still young. Whatever you do next year is not what you'll be doing for the rest of your life.   

Trust me. When I say that no matter what, things will turn out okay. 

Look forward to tomorrow. Because the best thing about the future is that it only comes one day at a time. 

Date a girl who travels...

Adapted from: http://blitzkreigkate.tumblr.com/post/3246440448/date-a-girl-who-reads-date-a-girl-who-spends-her

Date a girl who travels. Date a girl who spends her money on plane tickets, bus tickets, and that new pair of hiking boots. She has no problems with closet space, because she knows that everything she needs can be carried on her back. Date a girl who has a list of cities she wants to visit, who growing up, only requested postcards from other people for her scrapbook.
 
Find a girl who travels. You'll know that she does because she will always be daydreaming -- imagining herself on a whirlwind adventure. She's the one looking over her shoulder, unafraid of whatever height she's climbed to. You see the weird chick asking for directions, constantly talking to strangers, and trying to hitchhike, trespass, and/or talk her way to wherever she wants to be? That's the traveler. They're easily identified by a fierce independence streak and a strange ability to befriend every stranger that crosses their path.

She's the girl tapping her foot to the sound of a street musician, sniffing at the spices at the market, and  slipping her shoes off at the temple. If you take a peek inside her bag, you won't find make up -- but tissues, a camera, and a map. She's wandering, but never lost. Walk by her. She might give you a glare, because you're blocking her camera shot. Ask her if she likes the view.

Offer to take a picture for her.

Let her know what you really think of people who only want to travel to Europe. See if she's ever traveled alone. Understand that if she says she wants to travel to Africa, she has already secretly acknowledged how dangerous that would be alone. Ask her if she'd like a travel companion.

It's easy to date a girl who travels. Expensive shoes, jewelry, and fancy hotels won't impress her. They're nice, but save your money for an experience you two can enjoy together -- because a traveler understands how hard it is to find good company for that perfect sunset. Give her a bustling city, a tiny village in the middle of the desert, winding roads, open oceans, narrow cave passages, or a view across the canopy of the rainforest; she can be happy anywhere. Let her know that you won't ever hold it against her when she prioritizes her dreams and travel plans before you. Understand that she knows the difference between traveling and vacationing, but see if everyday doesn't feel like a vacation with her. It will never be your fault if you want to pick up and go -- because she already packed.

She has to rope you into her adventures somehow.

Lie to her. If she's learned anything during her travels, it's that "see you later" sometimes means good-bye, forever. For every goodbye: memories, tears, laughter, nostalgia, kindred spirits, and fleeting moments. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who travels knows that failure is part of living. Because girls who travel understand that a person who risks nothing, risks missing out on life. That you are allowed to make mistakes. That a wrong turn sometimes leads to unexpected opportunities, serendipitous encounters, or a breathtaking view only found off the beaten path. That you can make a mistake, and still make up for it by retracing your steps, U-turning, or asking for help with a map. That life is meant to have a few bumps in the road.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who travel understand that people, like the road before you, twist and turn in every direction. Even carefully laid out plans can go awry.

If you find a girl who travels, keep her close. When you find her trying to run away, don't tell her she's crazy. You may lose her for a few months, maybe for a year or two, but she will find her way back to you. She'll talk wistfully about living abroad forever, because for a while, forever doesn't seem that long...away from family and friends. But know that although her mind may be yearning for somewhere else, everyone needs a place to anchor.

You will propose at the mouth of a volcano. Or during Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Or very casually next time she's recovering from jet lag. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you'll wonder why your heart hasn't completely collapsed from always running after her. You will ride off on a magic carpet, have your kids in foreign countries and teach them multiple foreign languages you wished you had found time to learn. She will introduce your children to French cuisine and Japanese culture, maybe in the same day. You will wander the winters of your old age together and she will quietly tell you she loves you, in every language she knows.

Date a girl who travels because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who will make life one long adventure. If you can only give her monotony, stale hours and half baked proposals, then you're better off alone. If you want the world and the parts of the world not yet explored, date a girl who travels.

Or better yet, date a girl who wants to save the world.

Let's talk anxiety, just you and me

Exaggerated resumes, half-written cover letters, and half baked grad school applications.

I'm completely drowning in expectations and unsung praise. 

Divided between career directions, where free advice is worth as much as it cost you... because ultimately, it's your life.

I want to know.
                I want to know where I'll be in five years.
                                Do you remember when a five year, ten year, 

                                                              and forever plan was only a distant calling?

I want to believe that everything will be okay.
I want to believe in myself.

Knowledge and belief. 
I want faith to be a verb.

I want to understand why next year is so frightening. Why is it -- that when college ends -- I'm suddenly lost. Wasn't all of college a prep session for the real world? Oh wait, John Mayer had it right? There IS no real world?

             

What were people's expectations of college, again?
     Self-discovery, sexual exuberance, with a dash of lime and salt.
But really, why did you go to college again?
     To learn, equip yourself with practical skills. To answer questions.
                                               
But, of course we make things difficult -- and for every question we answer, three take their place. Should I have majored in something else? Should I have tried harder in that class? A-'s are probably THE most frustrating grades to receive. My parents were right? I should've studied to be a doctor, lawyer, insert safe-bet life decision? Wait, am I as smart as I think I am? Wait, more important, am I smart enough to do what I want? I'm selfish, immature, and entirely too self absorbed. Why do I even think I can make a decision for myself?  

A soul can hardly rest easy with doubt - which arguably, is more difficult to deal with than grief. I want these doubts to go away.

It's true when they say that our generation -- that we are the most hopeful, the most optimistic -- despite the job market, global financial crisis, and despondent reactions to international conflicts and problems. With such naivety, optimism, and idealistic goals -- are we ready to turn into stone-cold cynics?  Is it easier to close your eyes and see only the good -- or to emotionally preserve yourself and see only the bad? I want to find that balance between optimism and healthy dose of cynicism.

I remember ...

When I had no plans for next week, let alone next year.
When being stranded in a foreign country was a real concern, that didn't really concern me.
When the idea of stability was undesirable.
When impermanence was a way of life.

I really have no point to this post.
But maybe that was the point.

I want, to stop wanting.

Just -- someone -- anyone -- let me find peace.
Amen. 

Deflect, elect, reflect.

Reflections and lessons from election season...

 
1. I learned that I can outrun a dog. Fact. For anyone who's ever canvassed before, you know this lesson is key to surviving election season. If all else fails after graduation, I have a future working for USPS.

2. To the swing, the undecided, and the uninformed voter: It's not you, it's me. I love you -- but in the unhealthy, I-sort-of-want-to-strangle-you kind of way, which indicates we're in a dysfunctional relationship. You deserve someone better than me; I'm just too stubborn with my opinions and views on healthcare, gay marriage, education, immigration policies, and you know --the salient issues facing the country right now. We just don't have a lot in common, and it sort of fizzled. I mean, think about our conversations -- whenever I bring up politics, you tell me "not at the dinner table" and politics isn't exactly acceptable pillowtalk to you. Sorry. I hope we can still stay friends, but I just need my space. We're at very different points in our lives right now, and I don't want to hold you back from enjoying life. I don't want to force you to take time out of your day to pick up a newspaper, watch the news, or just listen to NPR. I just can't expect you to take the time to fulfill your civic duty, that would be really selfish of me. Honestly. You deserve someone who sees the world, the way you do. When you define something, you limit it; and you're just not ready for a commitment, well -- to anything.

3. On that note -- people who have well thought-out responses to why they're not voting, I truly did enjoy talking to you and hearing your stories. I actually would encourage more people who made the decision not to vote to talk, write, or blog about it. I really enjoyed hearing people who have taken the time to understand why they do not want to vote, walk me through their thought process. Telling me that there are no candidates you like when you haven't touched a newspaper yet, does not fly. Telling me that you are refraining from voting because you are in the military and do not want to cast your ballot -- because ultimately you serve the President, whoever he may be... I'll have to respect that.

4. I would never ever want to live in a battleground state. Like, ever.  Yeah, imagine that with Taylor Swift's voice if you want. But honestly -- between the incessant door knocks, phone calls, and political ads; you're surrounded. And elections get dirty. The ground warfare during election season should be understood as guerrilla warfare with the landmines you have to dodge -- false ads in Spanish telling voters that Election Day is November 7th, robo-calls telling people that if you voted down the line for Democrats that your vote wouldn't count for Obama, and Voter ID laws that don't accept military IDs.... that's just wrong.

5. Everyone's moving to Canada. Apparently. I'm not going to explain why "conservatives" can't say this -- but I will say that people threatening to move to another country, you're just unpatriotic. YEAH, I said it. I don't care if you're Democrat, a Republican, a Libertarian or a goddamn Tea Party supporter -- but saying you're moving to another country because the POTUS isn't the president you wanted? Tough shit. Suck it up and do something about the direction of this country if you're a real American. If you live in the United States, then fight for it. Leaving when the going gets tough is not the answer. You should  be proud to be an American, no matter what. Understand that no country is perfect; that you may disagree with certain actions taken by your government or discontent with inaction. There is a constant struggle between the role of government and the role of the individual.  I'm not saying you can't complain -- complain ALL you want. But if I see one more Facebook status about renouncing U.S. citizenship, I will actually slap a ..... well, let's keep this PG.

6. Beware of being trolled. Let me explain -- going house to house giving my ten minute spiel about why I was voting for President Obama only to have a Jehovah Witness making me listen to HIS ten minutes spiel... totally trolled. Being invited in to discuss how I should invest in someone's upstart NGO and/or introduce me to your son because he needs a girlfriend... totally trolled. How did I go from the one selling my pitch to you selling yours?

7. People. The only reason why I kept working on a campaign during election season was because of the people I met and the stories I accumulated. Working on a campaign is one of the most rewarding experiences -- win or lose. I've met a variety of characters -- this year and back in 2008. There was Thomas who managed to convince an elderly lady and her daughter to come in to telephone bank.... even though she needed an oxygen tank (ask me for details on that one later). Renee who always had a pot of coffee ready, God bless her soul. Sana, the diehard Eagles fan with the hugest crush on Obama. There was the elderly Jamaican couple that I could barely understand who walked me through the Democrat's party history.... and even recounted the Carter-Kennedy fiasco in vivid detail. The Republicans that hated me and the Democrats that hated me. The young couple from New York who were far too liberal. David who kissed my cheek out of happiness when I finally got his Dashboard profile to work. Mara who welcomed me into her home for the night -- complete with tea and a tour of her house. Paul, who didn't even need coffee to function at 3 AM (that's impossible for me). John, a wonderful old soul, who rough around the edges at first -- eventually warmed up to me.  The little black boy in West Philly who told me he didn't want Senator Obama to win the election back in 2008... because he wanted to be the first black president.

I'll forget the political debates, the doors slamming in my face, and the long commute. But these are the stories I won't forget. These are the people who made it all worthwhile.

Um, excuse me?

What was that?

We all saw it. 

And we all cringed.

Republicans don't kid yourself,  Clint Eastwood's address at the GOP National Convention was just bizarre. Collective jaw drop at two minutes, chest aches by four, and full cardiac arrest on part of the Republicans by the end of it.
 

He's your endearing senile grandfather - just nod and smile, folks. Be sympathetic, but don't take him too seriously. Because one, the POTUS is his imaginary friend. And two, he thinks he's a cowboy still.... Yikes.

On that note - who should the Republicans have drafted?
If there's a lot of conservatives in Hollywood (I'm taking Clint's word for this -- since only he's hot-doggin' it) then why in the world did the GOP choose Clint? My top five picks if I had planned out the speaker's list at the GOP...

1. Jon Voight


Positive points? Jon Voight would have been a more than willing candidate to speak at the GOP convention. After professing his love for Mitt Romney back in January, he obviously didn't just join the bandwagon. He's a nice example of a former Democrat turned Republican (then again everyone was Democrat when JFK was president). Besides him also being a certified 'badass cowboy' (see Midnight Cowboy 1969) -- he probably would have kept his act together.

Negative points? Post interviews. He calls Clint Eastwood's speech 'elegant'...... that's just a blatant lie. I'm also pretty sure Angelina Jolie would go Lara Croft on his ass if he were to make such a speech. This election is going to get bloody but we'd like to avoid actual bloodshed, thanks.

2. Robert Duvall


Positive points? He was in The Godfather -- a gangster with a capital G (bad joke, but I couldn't resist). He loves the smell of Napalm in the morning and recently hosted an Ann Romney fundraiser. He's also in one of my favorite movies 'Get Low', check it out. He probably wouldn't have spoken to a chair either.

Negative points? He doesn't have quite the same appeal as Clint Eastwood. Most people our generation would wonder -- who's that geezer? Sad to say.

3. Drew Carey

Positive points? He's funny. Actually funny, not Clint Eastwood funny. He was a critic of the Bush administration but that would only help the Republican base (because hindsight is 20/20 and no one likes Bush now). I actually don't know if he's supporting Mitt Romney in the next election...but he's been considered a famous 'Republican' in Hollywood. To clarify, he's more of a Libertarian -- a conservative that still gets high. Um. His words, not mine.

Negative points? He's probably more of a Ron Paul supporter.


4. Jessica Simpson

Positive points? We would have expected her to mess up a speech -- and she's smart enough to play the dumb blonde card (wait, what?). She's also still really attractive, at least more so than Clint. Not that the Republicans need any more hotness points with Paul Ryan, but she would have been an interesting choice.  She's endearing and as much America's sweetheart as Jennifer Aniston is to all of us.

Negative points? I will not allow for a blonde Palin. I don't think she'd be the best to discuss politics with.... Yeah, nevermind. That speech would be cringe-worthy too.


5. Chuck Norris


Positive points? Um, hello -- he's Chuck Norris.

Negative points? There are NO negative points.

Guilty pleasures?

2 PM songs are disgustingly catchy...
And while we're being completely honest - these guys are pretty damn hot.

Truth,

I quit smoking and it's killing me.
Just murmur over that statement for a bit and then laugh.
I write this not because I'm proud, but because I thought I should let you know that -

Sometimes I still have huge cravings, like right now.

Especially when I have nothing else to do. When the thought just strikes my fancy.
Especially when I have writer's block. It would be so easy to just pick up a pack of cigarettes.  
Especially in Taiwan where my favorite Korean cigarette brand (Esse) is only 80NTD or roughly $2.75 -- compared to prices in Massachusetts or New York, that's a steal.

And I've never found smokers unattractive... maybe because I grew up with my father smoking. Marlboro Reds. Cowboy killers. He'd come home, wrap me up in his arms -- and I'd inhale the scent of leather, soap, and cigarette smoke. It was a comforting memory. One, that I will not discard. He's quit since then, cold turkey.

And when I worked at Lil' Peach, it was just as a part time job - in high school -- that I quite enjoyed. Tips from lottery winners, an extra smile for the regulars who bought me coffee, and a death glare at the freshman who tried to buy dip... or hit on me. I'd look the other way when people used the slush machine and received life advice from the grandpas who taught me how to appreciate cars. If you're curious? I should have been an accountant and I have an unhealthy obsession with Bentley's.

It was there that I learned the "art" of smoking.... unconsciously memorizing names of cigarettes, registering prices when the excise tax first hit Massachusetts, noting the grimaces on the regulars and increase in the demand for free matches... as opposed to one dollar lighters.

Parliament Lights, Camel Signature, Virginia Slims, Kool, Newport 100's, Marlboro Lights, Lucky Strikes, American Spirit, Carlton, and the list goes on and on. I remember running my hands through the packs -- I stocked them after all. I learned who smoked what -- the hipsters with their Parliaments, the old timers with their Marlboros, and those who smoked American Spirit's because they last twice as long. Double for your money. If you were really classy? You'd request the Nat Sherman's. Special order.


It started with clove cigarettes...
Freshman year of college. With Anne, my favorite person from my memories of back then. Clove cigarettes with hot chocolate. Smacking lips and a tingling sensation -- which meant it was like mint hot chocolate on a cold winter's night... or was it an early spring's frost? Barely discernible whether it was our breath or smoke that billowed out from our chapped lips.


It continued with free cigarettes...
At Chinese night clubs and Beijing bars. During a drink mixed with whiskey and iced tea. A nice addition to the madness and frenzy -- after work during happy hour and at dawn after one helluva night.

It progressed with American Spirit's...
In Paris, France. Where I could find a cafe, people watch, write, and smoke. Yes, I was a fake. I am not a starving artist that uses cigarettes to curb my hunger. Nor am I stick thin or urban chic. But it was fun and easy... meeting people outside on the streets, after a loud conversation by the bar, by the Seine, and waiting for the bus to school. This addiction further fed by the fact that my host mother smoked, constantly. I joined her in a cigarette, and then another, and then another. Forgetting what I was lighting -- the click of a lighter, light in my hands and easy on my ears. Lost in conversation, translation, and the Parisian lifestyle.

It ended with one cigarette...
The last in a pack. And this craving that comes up every once in a blue moon.


But, I'll refrain.
Because I really don't want to walk out in this torrential downpour (typhoon warnings, imminent power outage). I don't have the motivation...

And not enough money,
And not enough time.
And I like running.
And I'm not in Paris anymore.
And it was a new year's resolution.
And people in the United States pass judgment like it's nobody's business (hah).
And I really can't be bothered to explain what an 'addiction' implies in Buddhism.
And when it comes down to it... I really don't want to give my brothers a reason to ever start.

And most and least importantly -- I'm determined, dedicated, and damned if I don't make it to the Mt. Everest base camp next summer. BAH.