everything happens for a reason

I've always been a firm believer in everything happens for a reason.  I'm not terribly religious.  I believe there has to be something bigger than all of us, but I don't know who or what that thing is.  It's just that the world is an awfully lovely place and you should stop every now and then and take that in, and acknowledge you're just one little person in the scheme of something greater.  I think being so humble as that is some kind of enlightenment, and that knowledge certainly is part of the grand scheme, whatever that may be.

But anyway, I'm nonsense-ing.

Love is a horribly funny thing when you're so young.  High school breeds heart break because everyone knows they want something but they don't know what it is that they want.  We're on a constant search for it.  Most people don't find it in high school, many go on to find it in their twenties, thirties, forties, eighties, and then they settle down and enjoy it.  What I'm beginning to realize is that love sneaks up on you when you least expect it.  Sometimes it's in another person, sometimes it's in a place or thing.  But what we mustn't forget is that there is so much of it to be had.  There is happy and love and sunshine no matter where you go, even where you have to dig to find it, oh baby, is it there.  So as I find myself so often doing, I question what I know, because what do we know for certain other than love?  Moods swing, weather men are often wrong, things happen, things change.  But love, that's for shizzle.  I love travelling.  I love kissing.  I love French and the New York Times and my friends and the sound of a train on tracks and the way the Eiffel Tower sparkles every hour and how daffodils look like they're laughing when it's breezy and I could go on forever (I've gone on, on this blog!).  But love and dreams go hand in hand.  Some dreams come true before we realize they were what we wanted all a long, sometimes we know we're in love and we chase it until it's in our hands.

But everything happens for a reason is really a funny idea when you think about it.  Isn't identifying your dreams and chasing them relentlessly the way things happen?  Every now and then we're struck with a little bit of luck and good fortune and something wonderful falls right into our laps.  Maybe the opportunity is what falls into our laps.  My first trip to France exemplifies this PERFECTLY.  The opportunity knocked.  I saw it and I wanted it.  But the plane ticket didn't fall into my lap for free!  I worked my ass off to pay for that ticket!  I worked through hours of mowing lawns and sitting for screaming children (and screaming mothers) and sticky, cranky summer camp kids until I had enough money to go.  We'll never know if something is meant to be unless we try, though.  And if it is, it will work out and if it's not you'll never have to live with that regret.  Maybe I'm entirely wrong and there is someone out there giving me the courage to find love in all these places.  Is it possible I'm that person?

I'm almost done, I swear!

Vienna by Billy Joel is my all time favorite song in the history of the musical universe.  It is my saving grace almost as much as my amazing friends and it gets me through many a long day.  I love it.  But there's one line that kind of perturbed me at first: "Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true."  Oh, Billy.  You were right again.  You'd be crazy to think you can make every dream you ever have will come true.  You'd be crazier not to try.

maybe i'm optimistic

I'm laying here in bed.  Wide awake.  It's 4:40 in the morning.  I'm thinking.  Meta-cognition-ing too much.  This isn't anything new, but I'm really, really awake this particular morning.  I wish I wasn't.

I'm thinking about the things I wish I could change.  I wish every kid in Africa had clean water and shoes.  I wish every girl in China knew she was as important as her brother.  I wish everyone had the money to go to the best college they could get into.  I wish there were more people who gave other people the benefit of the doubt.  I wish that on my way to Philadelphia when I saw a man pull into a parking space kind of close to the person next to him, the second man wouldn't get out of his car and yell at him.  He wasn't intentionally doing you wrong, man.  Cut the guy some slack.  I wish people didn't assume being nice had to have an ulterior motive.  I wish everyone could get along.  I wish people were kinder, because a single compliment or a single smile are all that it takes to brighten an entire day, and who knows, may even change someone's entire outlook on life.  There are a lot of things I wish were different.  There are a lot of things I wish I could change.  

And I can't change a lot of those things.  There will never be enough shoes for all the children in Africa.  There will always be girls who won't know how beautiful and smart and talented and capable they are.  There will always be people who won't go to college, not because they aren't smart enough, but because they can't afford it.  There will always be assholes in parking lots, yelling at other people because they're so sick of their own tedious misery.  There will always be people who assume the worst of random acts of kindness, probably because they don't have the courage to exhibit them themselves.  There will always be people who are too insecure about themselves to find good in other people.  And after all, it's far easier to put someone down and boost yourself up rather than run the risk of spreading a little sunshine, isn't it?  I can't make people do things differently.  I don't know if I would even if I had that power.  But I can do my best to change them myself.  

I watched a brilliant film in a Play Writing class I took two years ago (boy, time sure does fly when you're blogging) called Pay It Forward.  This little boy spread sunshine in more ways than he may have ever dreamed of and in ways he hardly could have understood (a wise boy, though he was).  I think children's simplistic naivety and ignorant bliss makes so much more sense than we give them credit for.  What I wouldn't give to be a beautiful little fool again...  Maybe the woman whose blouse I complimented at 11:30 p.m. on Market Street in historic Philadelphia will wake up the next day ready to take on the world.  She'll sing in the shower, give the blind woman who rides her bus in the morning a hand, she'll ask a co-worker she's been dying to talk to for his number, she'll do it all with a smile on her face.  I'll never see her again.  I'll never know if she did anything differently, I'll never know if she even gave what I said a second thought.  And it doesn't matter.

Maybe I'm optimistic to think that what I did could really cause such an opportune change in the way a day or week is going in the life of a total stranger.  But maybe that unforeseen moment of understanding is all that it really takes.  It's in the conscious or subconscious of each and every one of us to hope to be accepted somewhere at some time.  So that moment of appreciation and of being worthy, no matter how brief, is the level we so desperately wish to connect on.  When we make little changes that reach another human being in that way, we're so much the better for them, and whether the people your change effects realize it or not, so are they.

let it snow let it snow

In second grade I remember sitting around the letter carpet with my class, sharing our most effective methods of wishing for snow days.  Some of us slept with spoons under our pillows, some did snow dances, some wore our pajamas inside out and backwards, some people threw salt out the window and that one gingerkid with glasses who brought a frog to school once swore by doing them all at once.  My teacher, who incidentally turned out to be the only educator whose classroom wasn't a haven for me (she made fun of my palate expander and once when I was defending the gingerkid from a bully on the playground she came outside and dragged me in to a lunch detention, I had a tragic second grade year), taught us something her Native American friend said to her once.  It's the only thing I don't have totally blacked out from that very dark time in my life; "big snow little snow, little snow big snow".  It means big snow flakes will only snow for a little but little snow flakes will bring big snow.

This morning, much to my great surprise and delight, I just stepped out of the shower and into my bedroom to see big, beautiful snowflakes from the sky.  I can always tell when it's going to snow by looking outside.  The moon shines hesitantly against a bright night sky and the stars are like a whisper hiding behind the clouds.  And since I was little I counted on these snowflakes, in all their beautiful, glorious wonder, to bring some magic down from the sky with them.  I know snow is a pain in the ass.  It turns gray when it gets too old and can even be dangerous.  But people get old and gray and love is dangerous too.  Everyone gets broken sometimes, so you might as well have something beautiful to marvel at while you figure out a way to be mended.

So right now I'm laying in bed wishing the sky were a little bit lighter.  I hope that next time flurries are falling they're each a teeny tiny little sprinkle of magic dust.  So I can pull on my big boots and gloves and coat and hat and scarf and warmest socks and go for a walk with snow flakes getting caught in my hair until my cheeks turn rosy.  I'll come inside and drink hot chocolate with marshmallows to warm me right down to my toes.  I'll pull out a book and one of those blankets that's so soft you want to hold on to it forever.  And I'll definitely have my new pillow pet from my best friend right next to me too.  And then those little snow flakes will brighten the world like sunshine.  Because a snow day, any snow day, school or not, is a wonderful day.  But then, every day is a wonderful day.  So just smile.


Au revoir et gardent rêver!

shirley temple dreams

As Friendly's, a childhood staple for anyone who grew up between 1990 and 2005, slowly makes it's way to the top of the extinction list, I find I've eaten there more in the last few months than I ever cared to.  Nevertheless, I can't say I don't reminisce with every chicken tender and monster mash and Shirley Temple.  When I was little Shirley Temple's were a treat.  I couldn't have them everywhere I went, so when I did have them, I felt like special and I felt like a grown up.  I imagined myself sitting at the big kid table at Thanksgiving, I imagined myself in sixth grade like my cool older cousins, chatting on my cell phone and going to the mall with my friends, without my mommy, independent and free.  

Now that I'm old, naturally, I imagine myself in other places.  Yesterday I made myself a list of goals I hope to have accomplished by June 20th, the summer solstice.  Among these things was the complete my first draft of a common app., or to have my college resume completed.  I'm getting older and the decisions I make weight more heavily in my future.  It's scary and exciting to grow up and it happens faster than we realize.  But what I'm beginning to see more and more is how and where we see ourselves will always be changing.  Things happen and we think of certain things as more important than others.  And while what we hope to accomplish may vary slightly, we must never lose sight of ourselves.  My Shirley Temples changed the scenery, I never wanted to be someone different.

So tonight, Hey Soul Sister came on the radio in Friendly's, I laughed at myself and the silly summer memories I associate with it now.  (That's something else I've learned, never take yourself too seriously, it ages you.)  I used the straw that changes colors to try to push the cherry to the top so I could grab the stem, like I've been doing since I was five.  And I imagined me, older, but with the same spring in my step that has carried me through many cities, comfortable or unfamiliar, and off on some new adventure I’d always planned on having.  Maybe I saw myself grabbing milk for my morning cereal from the Monoprix or rushing a letter to the bureau de poste before it closed.

I’d like to think though, that I would be doing something more poetic.  I imagined myself looking out the window of my shoebox of an apartment, my chin resting in my hand, taking in the subtle beauty of everything that surrounded me.  Then suddenly, a splash of color in the setting sun would inspire me to grab my camera and run to the metro, get off at la Place de Charles de Gaulle, climb the 280 stairs to the top of the Arc de Triomph and take a few snapshots before the last light laid to rest until morning.

And my six best friends, six of the most unbelievably outstanding, intelligent, enlightened people I've ever met in my life, I imagine us as friends when we're old too.  Because like I said, there may be a change in setting, but never a change in who you are.  When you find a good thing, a thing that makes you happy no matter what, you'd be insane to let it go.  Love is a rarity, people search their whole lives for a soul mate, one person who they would kill for and one who will love them unconditionally forever.  I'm one of the lucky ones, I found six.  So when I tell them I want us to all buy a house on a lake or a beach somewhere together when we're older, I hope they know I'm not kidding.  Because it isn't just a Shirley Temple dream and it doesn't just sound fun, when I envision it, I see the seven of us, spouses, kids and maybe even a dog or two in tow, running around an old waterfront house with white curtains blowing in the open windows and a wrap around porch with a swing, blissfully chaotic, together.  

It's funny how one little thing can do that to a person.  Maybe it's just me though, I'm not sure that everyone has crazy epiphanies at dinner at Friendly's with their families.  It's fun to dream.  It's fun to imagine yourself free and independent as you please, or maybe free with your favorite people alongside you.  But if it's something you dreamed of when you were drinking your Shirley Temples as a kid, something you wanted badly enough that you could see it, taste it, you probably thought it for a reason.  When you want something so much you wouldn't dare say it out loud chances are it's a dream worth chasing.

Au revoir et gardent rêver!

it's not goodbye it's see you later

As we get older we begin to embark on bigger adventures than we ever have before.  We're not just walking to school or even riding our bike to a friends house anymore; we leave for college, we move out of our houses, we find ourselves in new cities.  Time becomes more precious, because with every day we live we have a little less of it.  It seems like there are fewer minutes in the hours, hours in the day, days in the years.  We go and we go and sometimes we look up and wonder how we've gotten where we are.  Whether that's realizing you have one year left before you leave for college or realizing you're in an apartment in a strange city you only kind of like 300 miles away from home.  We grow and so do our journeys.

So as I came to understand this new fact of life, I found solace in this whole "It's not goodbye it's see you later," concept.  And until not very ago I truly believed it could always be sure.  I would like to believe that each time I find something I love I would never have to part with it forever and that eventually I would see it later.  But if this were true, the things we loved wouldn't be so precious.  The minutes wouldn't count as much.

A little under a year ago I was in the middle of a whirlwind-ish, wild, travel-filled year of high school.  I visited twelve brand new cities in five countries in a matter of two months.  I loved every second of it.  But everywhere I went I left my trail of breadcrumbs, a name carved into a park bench in Paris, a signature in a guestbook in Vienna, a title of an award that will go on a website (probably to be visited by 2 people a year, me and some other poor, unfortunate soul who unknowingly and accidentally clicked the wrong link) in Berkeley, a sloppy drawing on a wall that will be painted over twice a year in Verona, and so on and so forth.  I have yet to find a cure to this irrevocable wanderlust.  And so, each city I visited I would say to myself "Next time I come I'll climb the Duomo," "Maybe when I'm in Salzburg again I can hike to the prison."  Bad job.

The longer the strides we take the more blatantly distanced we become from what we know.  We find things we care about and meet people we love along the way, but since we don't live in my dreams, there will be a point in time where you will be unable to do all the things you love a second time.  And so don't count on a "see you later".  Do things to the best of your ability every single time you do them.  Say I love you every time you see someone you love.  Never leave someone on bad terms.  Ever.  Delight in every thing you do.  Be happy even when you're miserable.  I didn't want to go here, I'm about to be supremely "live-life-to-it's-fullest-make-every-second-count-kum-ba-yah" with all of you, but seriously.  Make every second count.  My mom's favorite James Taylor song, Secret O' Life, says "the secret of life is enjoying the passage of time."  It is.  So just live it up.

Some may call me a cynic.  However, I'm the biggest dreamer I know; I love to live happily and wonderfully.  I have so much faith (maybe too much) in the good of humanity and I believe that each second is meant to be lived beautifully.  In so many other languages, "goodbye" translates to something along the lines of "until we meet again"; I so love this.  So I've said all this not because I believe the Mayans were right and we all have less than a year left to live, but because saying goodbye won't kill you, rather the next time you meet will be all the more a serendipitous pleasantry.

Au revoir et gardent rêver!

the little things...

Today while I was daydreaming during AP History of the Americas (as I so often do), I jumped through a wider variety of subjects than usual.  From why bad things happen to good people, to thinking about what I would do if I had a million dollars, to the little things I love. 

I sometimes wonder why it is that the best people often have the greatest burdens to bear.  I think about the wonderful people in my life who continue to face hardship.  Who continue to fight while they’re down and refuse to stop trying.  Who are unceasing in their efforts just to endure.  And who do all of this with a smile.  In Patricia McCormick’s SOLD, the main character Lakshmi says “Simply to endure is to triumph.”  And sometimes maybe the most successful people aren’t necessarily who makes the most money or who have the biggest houses, but the people who work the hardest, who work to their potential and who live.  I suppose God (who or whatever God may be) gives us what we can handle.  With great bequest comes great responsibility. 

And if I had a million dollars there are so many things I would do.  I would pay for all of my family and friends to go to college.  Education is truly the best investment a person can make.  I believe as long as I can learn there is nothing I can’t do.  I would take my Mimi to Italy.  I would buy books for kids who have none, because books open up so many new worlds.  I would get a ukulele and a pair of Ray-Bans and find a spot on the sidewalk somewhere in Montmartre and sing songs and laugh with my friends.  And I would travel to my heart’s content.

Then I came to realize is how rarely we stop and consider the small things that make up the minutes of the days of our lives.  We recognize the major milestones, our first steps, riding a bike, graduating from high school, getting married, buying a house.  But those things happen once.  The little things that make up the rest of our lives, the things that give us spontaneous joy in our otherwise hectic lives, are the things that save us. 

The tarte au citron and card bluffs and the smell of lavender and hands with paint on them and my favorite Billy Joel song coming on the radio and Thanksgiving and stars and bottles of Orangina and The Wizard of Oz and sunflowers and pink dresses and riding my bike to the beach and beat up L.L. Bean boots and tie-dye and Seinfeld and balsam fur Yankee Candles and antique pocket watches and snowy days and glitter and kissing and banana bread and dreaming and fireworks and French class and New York City; the things that save me.

Routine as they may be, they’re each very much a part of who we are.  These are the things that we do over and over again, out of habit, out of necessity because of the happiness they bring us.

And still, we’d forgo each of these in an instant for the people we grow to love.  And that’s why love is a remarkable thing and why life will never make sense.

Au revoir et gardent rêver!

european adventure!

tuesday, february 15, 2011 10:21 p.m.
en route to vienna, austria (well london, england, then vienna!). a whole year of excitement, anticipation and every other good thing a person could want to feel all in anticipation of this very day! so here i sit, 35,000 feet up in the air, rampant with food poisoning or some other god awful thing that requires me to be in the bathroom every 20 minutes feeling like i'm going to throw up AND YET i'm still so full of this whole, full feeling. it sounds strange i know, i just don't know how to describe it. i'm so happy i could just burst. twice. i've gone 1,000 miles today and i still have 2,500 more til my destination. and i hope a million more in my journeys to come.