To Do List

Sometimes I wonder if it's entirely counterproductive to just make a list of all the things about myself that bug me and try to change them. Would that make me a narcissist, a masochist, or just plain melodramatic?

dog days are over...?

I tend to use my birthday to mark the wane of summer. Lately, though, I'm not so sure. Is the sun really setting on the dog days come July 23rd? This seems a bit premature. In lots of ways-- lots-- (much like turning 21) it seems like things are just starting to get interesting.

twentysomething

On the way home to Astoria from my internship today, sandwiched between a bright eyed, underpaid, entry-level worker and a rain-soaked City Year kid, I really felt like a twentysomething. Now I know, I've not yet made it to "twentysomething" (one month, 14 days). But there is something distinctly wonderful and earnest about being this old-- or young-- in the city. We twentysomethings are the naïfs that keep New York's corporate sweat shops running and its outer boroughs' landlords supplied with fresh tenants. We are dumb enough to believe, still, that our expensive brains and flawless Urdu will pay off in the post-graduation job market. In most cases, we're wrong. So why does it feel so right?

Well, because I like to be put to the test. Give me three assignments about incredibly varied architectural goings-on in the world, and I will write them. Ask me to contact PR for a dozen photographers, and yes, I will gladly hold while I wait for an available representative. Because being new to the game, and flexing my professional tendons is still fun. And I'm riding the wave. Despite overwhelming naïveté on the part of my millennial cohorts, I can't help but feel like remaining shiny-eyed and wondrous is the way to go.

hermit, n.

I've been calling myself a hermit a lot lately. It's both a disclaimer and a crutch. I feel less guilty about avoiding certain social situations and for slinking into my room to watch bad tv in the middle of gatherings. I decided to look up the word today, on my 5th use of the day. What I found was ... well, hopeful:

hermit, noun. - 1. a person living in solitude as a religious discipline. 2. a hummingbird found in the shady lower layers of tropical forests, foraging along a regular route.

See? I'm just a hummingbird, foraging along a regular route.

musings on coupledom

I ran into a gaggle of cool-kids today, in the lobby of Butler Library. Absolutely resplendent in ratty soccer-style sneakers and my windblown, $5 pashmina, we found ourselves entertaining thoughts on coupling and singledom. I've always known that nonchalance is the modus operandi of New York City's becardiganed, too-cool-for-school crowd; but it seems that relationships-- for most of the early-20-somethings I've met at least-- are treated with a nonchalance that borders on irreverence. And then I thought: maybe they have a point.

My own relationship has certainly changed me for the better. In other ways though, aspects of my personality (my ability, for example, to be a jealous, ranting loony) have been given a new platform for expression. I think it's these dark and scary parts of our (relatively) newly post-pubescent selves that both single and coupled, early-20-somethings are attempting to avoid. Without getting too Hallmark card-y, the great thing about being in a relationship is not (at least not at 21) social capital or financial security. Rather, it's the knowledge that you can explore those slightly crazier recesses in yourself and have someone there who understands the process (and, hopefully, loves you anyway).

As the cool kids and I made off in our separate directions, I decided to let a little, very little, irreverence into my relationship. Maybe it's just what we need.

fake world

A former friend (and very funny lady) has been keeping a blog about her semester abroad experiences in Aix-en-Provence, France (I will not pretend that I don't read it with near-religious fervor and delight). She wrote recently about feeling like being abroad was like living in a "fake world." It seems, though--after a couple readings-- that it's the abundance of pastries, the meeting new people and seeing new things, and the making time to do stuff that's genuinely interesting that makes her world feel "fake." At the risk of sounding like a Carrie Bradshaw wannabe, I got to thinking about how often I put off what I want to do in favor of everything else, namely, what I should be doing. Life, after all, should be about making a better later now, not the other way around.

In a week in which the weather has been nice and I've been free to enjoy it, I have, more than ever, put off getting those pesky administrative things taken care of: taxes, planning my summer, presentation preparation and assorted assignments. All of those things, for better or worse, are my real life (and they're a real pain). But slowly--and verrry slowly indeed-- I've realized over the course of this week that getting those things done will make it easier to live my "fake life" and create my "fake world" in my real one.

And that feels good.

I feel it all/the wings are wide

wild card inside.