11/ 16/ 2014
Truth time: It’s hard for me to rationalize fun. This is for a myriad of reasons—mostly practical. Spending money on things that make me happy is difficult. This overwhelming sense of guilt hits me, making me question why I’m investing my money in this way instead of saving it or contributing to my retirement fund.
October taught me that I must find a better balance between fiscal responsibility and fun. One day, when I’m old, I want to look back at my life and be proud of it. I want it to feel like it was worth living, not like I was just waiting for something to happen.
10/ 26/ 2014
I’m not comfortable in social situations. The crowds of people — whom seem to be having the time of their lives — baffle me. They flit and float from one conversation to the next, and they do it gracefully, merrily as though they truly believe that that’s what living is all about.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about highly sociable people, the kind who crave community above everything else and look forward to having a full calendar. That’s just not me. I know this, but sometimes, I wish I could be, the one asking, “when’s the next party?” instead of being the one who’s too embarrassed to come.
But this past month, I learned that this introvert with social anxieties could be fine company at a party. It just took a simple change in my thinking. The way I saw it, I had 2 options:
10/ 05/ 2014
It all started on the train ride home. I was in a fitful mood, that awful combination of exhausted-impatience. About 15 minutes into the ride, a man called out to me. Now, in NYC, when someone is saying, “Ma’am, ma’am,” over and over again on the train, it’s ignored. This may sound rude, but it’s just our culture.
Then a woman reached over and poked me. As you can imagine, I did not appreciate being poked by a complete stranger; however, I looked up from my book and pulled out my earbud.
The man reached over and handed me a sheet of white paper. When I looked at it, I understood why he was trying to get my attention–he’d sketched me.
09/ 14/ 2014
People often told me that I was grown up for my age when I was a kid. It usually made me feel like I was missing out on something, growing up too quickly.
Nowadays, there’s a reoccurring scenario wherein I don’t always react like an adult. It happens whenever I make mistakes. I’ll give you an example:
Last week, I took a challenging yoga class. I was really enjoying the teacher’s pace and felt like I was in “the zone.” We were doing a series of forward bends, and the teacher said we could try a “tripod headstand” if we wanted to.
So, I went for it, and didn’t hit it as solidly as I had hoped. It was ok though, because I’d used the wall for support.
Apparently, the teacher was watching me, and when my feet hit the wall, he took a sassy tone and said, “mm-hmm… and that’s not a tripod headstand anyways,” in front of the whole class.
