The Fall: A Poem

Do you know what it's like to fall in love with something you essentially know nothing about? Like, you've already made up your mind in your head of what it will be like, so you've fooled yourself into thinking that's what it actually? I do that all the time.

I fall in love with things and people the way I want them to be. Before I've even experienced them for myself. Most of the time, I'm setting myself up for bitter disappointment upon the discovery that the fantasy does not synchronize with the reality. I was worried about that same disappointment setting in when I first moved to NYC three months ago.

Ever since I first moved to this country at age five, I coveted New York City. The Big Apple. The City of Dreams. My parents had visited NYC together before we officially made the big move and I was hoping they'd trake me straight there. They didn't. They took me to Maryland. But I never lost my passion for the city. I swore that I'd make it there one day.

New York City now isn't what it used to be. That's what people say. It used to be uninhibited. Audacious. Bombastic. And now it's lost its fire. Famously, in a Sex and the City Scene made epic by Kristen Johnston, she plays life-of-the-party-girl Lexi Featherston, who hasn't stopped even after the party is over. No one wants to do cocaine anymore. No one is fun anymore. "New York is over," she says, cigarette in hand, before falling to her death.

I'm sure NYC was an amazing place before recessions, AIDS and the Internet but it still possesses some of the very things that made it what it was: diversity, eccentricity, the ability to make things happen for yourself and pursue your dreams on a bigger scale than you'd be able to in Nowheresville, MD. And after nearly a decade of wanting it, I finally made it happen and it was the most terrifying thing ever.

I had been so eager to reach this goal that I hadn't thought about whether or not it was something that I still really wanted or was worth it. That didn't hit me until I was here, sitting along in a strange room and contemplating for the first time what I had done. But at the end of it all, I know my biggest regret would have been not taking this risk at all in the first place. These are the moments that make the most enchanting stories. Cheers to refusing to play it safe. Oh, and then I scribbled this poem onto some rusty piece of paper.

The Fall

Something uncontrollable stirred inside me,
like I was a teapot.
Water or hot lava perhaps
bubbled to the surface
and emanated furiously from my eyes, stinging.
Tears I had not cried in years.

Everything hit me all at once.
That I had accomplished what I set out to.
That everything would change from now on.
That I had to change with it or risk
being left behind.
That the kindness of people had led me
to this moment.
And that I was completely alone.

My comfort had been an enemy to my success,
so my discomfort would have to serve as its companion.
There is nothing so terrifying as uncertainty.
That leap of faith is no longer frightening
because of what lies below,
but because of the fact that
you can't retract once you've taken it.
There is nothing left but the landing.

So taken aback was I by the intensity
of my emotion that I forgot to be
thankful that I could feel again.
That I was bold enough to risk the pain
of crashing.
And so, if my landing is rough, I hope I have
the strength left in me to do it all over again.
And if my landing is smooth, I hope
to never forget the rush of the fall.

-Maryline

The Crisis: What Do I Stand For?

Wow, time's a bitch. It felt like just yesterday I posted here, yet it's telling me I haven't written a blog post since December 2011.

It also feels like just yesterday I moved into my dorm room freshman year of college. I remember how nervous I was, how I couldn't believe I had made it to university. A good one at that, on a partial academic scholarship. See, I'm the first in my family to accomplish this, so it means a lot. It wasn't written in the stars for someone like me, but somehow it was.

And on the first night, after my family left from helping me get nestled in, I sat outside my dorm on a bench. I sat there at 3am alone, listening to the Beatles and looking up at the sky, taking in every single element around me. The cool August night air, the drunken chatter of eager incoming freshman, and the bustle of Broad Street mixing magically with the music in my headphones.

That was the first and last time I got to savor it. I had no idea how quickly the next few years would pass by. All I knew was how badly I needed to experience this: college. A sort of halfway house between living under my mother's suffocating thumb and the big, bad real world that eventually awaited me.

What I didn't know was how real that world would be. You think you've got the timeline of your life all figured out and then you realize one day that it's never been yours to determine. Sure, you can be the master of your fate, but only to a certain degree. Someone else has mapped out your life for you and you have no choice but to take the blows as it comes. Your part is to figure out how to react to the blows. I just graduated college. Three months ago. Cum Laude. With a job lined up. I was on top of the world, right?

Not exactly. I had never been more miserable or cried more in my life. This was it. I was supposed to be ecstatic. Everything was supposed to be different; I would move to New York City and become the woman I've always wanted to be. All my hard work would pay off. Everything would fall into place. Everyone seemed to agree: my family, friends, colleagues and professors. With all I've accomplished, they said, there was no way I wouldn't have my dream job and be living large. Well, I'm jobless on my sister's couch, still freelancing and still looking for a full-time job.

But I'm okay with that.

Let me go back and explain. I was offered a spot in a prestigious teaching program in New York City and took it, feeling lucky just to have been given the opportunity. I thought I would teach, freelance on the side, leave the program eventually and begin working full-time at a magazine in New York. See, ever since I was a kid, when I first stepped foot in this country, I dreamed of New York City, but never made it past Silver Spring, Maryland until I got halfway there at Temple.

But the teaching program proved to be more effort than I was willing to give it and, after many heart-to-hearts and tears and anxiety, contemplation and meditation, I quit before the first day. It was nearly mid-June and I had just joined the job hunt. The more time passed, the more anxious I became to find a job. There was no way I was going back to living under my mother's aforementioned suffocating thumb.

Watching my friends and peers get full time jobs, although I'm happy for them, I do not envy them. Many of them have fallen victim to the trap: mundane jobs that could mean less to them, jobs they undertake to avoid the stigma of "unemployed" and to pay back the student loans that got them in their position in the first place.

College is over now. Our bubble is burst and we're left trying to figure out how to adjust to the alien sensations that are surrounding us. No longer will our best friends be just down the hall or down the street. Gone are the days of seemingly endless resources and helping hands right around the corner. We've spread out all over the country, all over the world, and some of us are in new scary places alone.

But I hope we all eventually find what makes us happy and refuse to settle for anything less. I hope we always remember what we stand for and the legacy we want to pass on to future generations. And I hope we never forget the remarkably gratifying outcomes that can arise from working hard and keeping your fingers crossed.

I realize that I'm doing the right thing for me. I could choose to work with some big Fortune 500 company and be slotted into some generic position, but I won't. I'm staying true to myself and going after places that I want to be at. I may be shooting for the stars and it may prolong my search, but to me, the stars have never seemed that far away, anyway. Just a hop, skip and a leap of faith.

An Education

My title may have swayed your mind into thinking that this post is related to the movie, but it's actually about education. I've been seriously looking into Teach for America the past couple of months and it may have been because of my proximity to the Philadelphia education system. Since discovering something other than the adequate education I received growing up, it's been an issue that I've become more and more passionate about, leading to countless discussions and debates relating to the topic.

Today I had yet another discussion (albeit an accidental one) regarding education. This time, the discussion centered around a comment I made about education being free. Apparently, my counterpart had the idea that education is something that can only be paid for. I drew this conclusion by his statement that he was giving himself a free education by researching things online. I responded to this by asserting that most education is already free. He said he would need to research that and I told him that my point exactly is that not everything can be researched.

Some things you just have to experience to fully understand. I found myself explaining that the meaning of education is the acquiring of knowledge. Nowhere does it say that education must be paid for, therefore you can't refer to learning as getting "free" education. Anytime you're learning something, you're getting an education, regardless of whether or not it's free.

I've known plenty of people who didn't go to college but are still very smart and very successful. There are people who learn from the streets, from hard life experiences (see Slumdog Millionaire) or by simply being curious minds who thirst for knowledge on their own terms.

This just goes to show that you can take your education beyond the classroom, deeper. You're not limited to whatever reading your professor assigns you. You have the ability to seek out information for yourself, be it in a textbook at your local library or on Google. The Internet is literally knowledge at our fingertips, though most would rather spend it twatching or Facebook stalking.

Be a thinker. Be your own thinker. Share what you know, learn what you can, open your mind. xoxo

Why Didn't He Call You, You Ask?

Hmmm....

     Just because you're hot doesn't mean he'll call. Just because he didn't call doesn't mean you're not hot. You may just be annoying. If you wanna steer clear of driving your date away, take this advice from dating coach Evan Marc Katz. It's the five reasons why he didn't call you.

Reason #1: You talk, but don’t listen


Women are sharers. It’s culturally ingrained. You may talk to your best friend or mom five times a day and think nothing of it. Every detail is relevant, and nothing can be left out in the telling of a story. Problem is, men don’t generally communicate that way. So try to consider the ebb and flow of a normal conversation. If he hasn’t spoken in awhile, ask him a question (and not a vague “So tell me about you,” which will make feel self-conscious and put on the spot). If he’s telling a story, try doing a follow-up query instead of refocusing the spotlight on yourself (“You like to travel? Let me tell you about how I backpacked through the Amazon!”). And if it’s occurred to you that you haven’t yet learned a thing about your date, try listening for a bit. It’s not that we’re not interested in getting to know you, it’s that we’d be thrilled if you were interested in getting to know us, too.
 
 
Reason #2: You use conversation as therapy


Talking about your evil ex-boyfriend. Talking about your hatred of your job. Talking about your strained relationship with your mother. It’s not that the bad stuff is irrelevant, it’s that it’s inappropriate. Being negative might be an effective way of winning an election, but it’s not exactly endearing on a date. Even if you feel compelled to touch on such subjects, consider your tone when doing so. And consider how you’d feel if a man were to share his inner turmoil with you too soon.


Reason #3: You’re a little too enthusiastic about him

It’s normal to get excited about a date with potential. It’s normal to consider what kind of husband that date might be. It was also normal to write your grade school crush’s name on the back of your notebook… but you wouldn’t show it to him, would you? Of course not! There’s an unwritten rule in dating that governs the energy flow between a man and a woman: when one party tries too hard, the other party pulls back. If a stranger has ever bought you a costly gift on the first date or called you seven times the day after you had coffee, you know what I mean. We’re not saying you should act cold; just don’t get carried away in front of him. Keep your projections to yourself until you have a better idea whether your affections are reciprocated or not.


Reason #4: Your idea of chit-chat is politics, religion and other heavy topics

So you don’t complain about your ex, your boss or your mom. But you have a bone to pick with the President, the U.N. and the Pope. Hey, if your date is up for a surprise appearance on Meet the Press, that’s cool. Just know that not everybody likes to swim in the deep end of the pool so early. Sometimes, you’re better off sticking with banter about favorite travel spots or good movies or even funny online dates from the past. It’s not that intellectual topics should be off-limits, but until you know where someone lands on the political spectrum, you may want to tread lightly.


Reason #5: You’re not relating to him — you’re testing him

Dating should be fun. Getting to know a fascinating stranger, sharing information about yourself to an interested date… these are the things that keep us optimistic about the process. Where it all goes wrong is when you inadvertently turn him into a defendant and yourself into the prosecuting attorney. “How long was your last relationship?” “Where do you see yourself in two years?” “Do you want kids someday?” The answers to these questions are really important — they may well determine whether you choose to see him again — but great dates do not occur on a hot seat or under a microscope. Try reading between the lines instead of asking him these things point-blank.


Ahem, now back to Franco.