I['m making it through...so can you]

from an email I received earlier today--enjoy, or just be conscious that you (twenty-somethings, thirty-somethings, forty-somethings, fifty-somethings--everybody alike) are NOT alone!

They call it the "Quarter-life Crisis." It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don't recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren't really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at your job... and it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are looking for a job and realizing that you are going to
have to start at the bottom and that scares you.

Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn't. One minute, you are insecure and then the next, secure. You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.

You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you love someone but love someone else too and cannot figure out why you are doing this because you know that you aren't a bad person. One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic.

You go through the same emotions and questions over and over, and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision. You worry about loans, money, the future and making a life for yourself... and while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender!

What you may not realize is that everyone reading this relates to it. We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out.

Keep breathing, keep praying, keep surviving
with love & encouragement--arinmaya

Walking Shoes

So last night I got home at a reasonable time--around 10pm, I think.
My mother would worry that at that time, coming home alone wouldn't be the safest option.
I fear little other than God.
It was dark, as the sky is prone to sleep oftentimes before we even come close to the places we call "bed," but many street lights were on and I had several other New Yorkers all around, whose sleep/living patterns closely match mine.

"Sporadic" hardly comes close to describing what we do every day.

So I'm coming home and I get off the 6 train to walk the happy, familiar block from Lexington to Park. It's cold outside, as can be expected for the wintertime--at least in New York, anyway.

{Sidenote: i was talking to a close friend last night who mentioned one of the reasons he's usually so quiet or seemingly withdrawn: he simply doesn't prefer to waste words. Conversations in the dead of summer that say, "man, is it hot out there!" just don't do it for him. That our (and by "our" I mean people in general/adults in general) conversations tend towards the obvious or mundane topics like weather once we finally approach the age where we can fully engage in and benefit from meaningful conversation is, I think and I'm sure he would agree, sad...but a topic for yet another posting. [end sidenote]}
...by the way, don't you just LOVE the variety we have in brackets!?

Anyway, I'm heading home. It's nighttime, and it's cold.
And there's a girl who gets off the train on a different car than me.
She exits and walks outside.
She's young, and she's cute.
A bit taller than me, and I think Puerto Rican.
She captured my eye for all these reasons but more because she had on a white shirt.
Why is her white shirt important?
Because she didn't know what color my shirt was because it's COLD outside.
I had on a coat and a scarf...and maybe even my hat.
She had on a white shirt and one of those sleeveless--we'll say "down" vests.
I can't really say whether they're warm or not. My daddy used to wear one all the time, but in his defense he's a grown grown man (this girl was maybe 18, maybe 20) and he always wore sweaters. I remember that.
I just don't think her outfit was warm enough, not to mention, her white shirt wasn't even rolled down to cover her whole arm. Her wrists were exposed!

The rest of her outfit consisted of blue jeans (standard) and gym shoes. (And don't anybody try to tell me they're sneakers or anything else--I know what I'm talking about...Chi-town stand up!)

She jogged up the stairs, out of the station, crossed the street in the same direction I was headed, and then away from where I was walking. And she didn't look cold.
She actually looked particularly comfortable and carefree.

Which is what made me think: I bet her gym shoes are making her happy right now.
Of course, this thought came as I made my way home on tender feet from having worn heels (low, but still inclined) all day long.

I thought about her shoes (by then I guess I'd gotten over her being misdressed for the weather) all the way home, and into my apartment where I gave a sidelong glance to my own boot/shoe collection, complete with several wonderful pieces, but so uncomfortable looking (and often, not so great feeling either.)
Before I even walked into my room I had decided, inspired by the young girl/woman, to get rid of the shoes that didn't make my feet happy. Life is too short to walk through it with feet that don't smile.
But really, who was I fooling?
I've spent time, excitement, MONEY, joy, MORE money, and energy, on picking out my wonderful collection of shoes and boots.
I like what I have...for the most part.

And I'll say I think any kind of choice to better one's life comes with a small pain--kind of like post-partum syndrome...kind of, though I realize it's not really like that at all.
But you get my point.

Anyway, I did decide (by this morning) that I would try my darndest to sell a few pairs of shoes/boots that are still in great working order but that just don't make my feet happy.
Because walking should be a happy endeavor, no matter the shoe, no matter the distance.

I'm out to live life happy...and even though it took me at least two pages to get to my point, I'm starting with my walking shoes.

The Reasons, The Reasons That We're Here. . .

I don't think I'd be alone in saying I sometimes wonder what my reason is for being. . .here
"here" meaning on earth or at this job or in this emotional place or on that street corner at 2am when the wind is blowing and the only cars passing by are offering nothing more than Andrew Jackson on a flimsy piece of green paper

These are the days of our lives and we go through them for a reason. I recently made the conscious decision (after spending several years unconsciously acting in an imprisoned stance) that I TRUST myself and I trust my emotions. And that when I feel good about someone, it's ok to experience that feeling. And when I feel bad about a situation, that's ok too.

I'm a very smart person. Or at least I like to think I am.
So here's my testimony:
I think too much. I know this. If you know me, you know this, and it's very likely that if you know me and we're friends, you think a lot too.
But there's a big difference in thinking a lot and thinking too much.
I was talking to a friend the other day, telling her I think too much and it's gotten me out of a lot of situations, but it's also left me OUT of many more.
She said, well I think all women analyze.
I agree. We do. It's what often separates us from our men.
We think, and think, and rethink, and overanalyze, just to make sure we're not crazy.
I guess the thing is, who cares?
Let's be crazy. Let's be our emotional selves.
Let's get loud (every now and then), but when we're loud, let's try to stay as right as possible.
My daddy told me a long time ago, "Don't be loud AND wrong"

I believe in that.
I know I'm talking in circles but the point is that overthinking (for me) trapped me out of feeling or feeling like it was okay to feel and express myself emotionally. . .as in off of paper.

So I'm much more vocal now. I'm a bit more open. I'm learning myself.
I'm happy. I'm telling people I love that I love them.
The other day I asked a great friend why he thought we hadn't become closer than we had, since we get along so well as friends and are so close.
I was curious. He wasn't afraid of the conversation and we had it.
Before, I never would have even asked. The question would have either sat still in my head, or manifested in a poem I wrote three months from now that would then disappear into a notebook I wouldn't refer back to for six more months to a year.

I'm feeling like this life I'm in right now is worth living RIGHT NOW.

My co-worker and I were just talking earlier this morning.
She said her boyfriend knows that if he asked her to marry him, she would say yes.
She's been with him for less than 3 months, people.
I don't think that's crazy necessarily. I am at a point where I believe after a certain age, we just KNOW. We love and we know we love and it's a simple as the falling rain (or hail if you're in New York City today).
I told her there's only one man I know for sure I love enough to marry, and that's my ex-
I'm not shamed to say I have all of ONE ex-boyfriend...or at least one official one.
No one else committed. And that's fine. It means I didn't either.
But he was my ex- and even with his complete lack of consistency and the fact that he disappears for seasons at a time, I love him and always have loved him unconditionally.
He has a baby AND a baby's mama (is it possible to have one without the other?) and a lot more than just that
But I said this to her and I wrote it down, so now I'm sharing it with you:
i would ruin my life to love him forever

Not that he would ever intentionally hurt me or ruin my life. Some things just are.
And it is very possible that me being with him is just not what my life is supposed to be. I might be going against my angels to commit my life to him. Who knows?
The point is, I know I would and I know I could--love him forever.
And quite honestly, marriage or not, I always will.

But this is what I'm talking about.
I'm ok with this love I have for him. I'm no longer afraid of it. No longer feeling like I need to shut my mouth or choke my emotions for the sake of pride (the ultimate killer).

I'm just being...and being me.

Love, love, love

Free Food

Today, I asked (in my office), "what day is the holiday party thingy?"
Someone responded, "Thursday"
I said, "Today should be Wednesday."
Someone else replied, "Wednesday is the pizza lunch." (Every month in my office we have a pizza lunch to celebrate birthdays and eat together--it's a non-profit, we do these things.)

My heart was lifted, especially since I (a) love, love, LOVE free food, and (b) because I'm trying to my darndest to save money these days, so any chance at having some (free food) is music to my ears, literally. I thought to myself, and said out loud, "Are you sure? They usually don't like to feed us twice in one week." And yes, I am aware of the fact that in that moment, I made us sound like zoo animals looking forward to feeding time. I have no shame.

Somebody agreed to check.

1.5 hours later--
The email comes through: No Pizza Lunch This Week
Oh, LAWD!
"You bring me up just to break me DOWN!"
Yes, I said that out loud and loud enough for us all to laugh at the sad humor we were all experiencing at that moment.

Yet another missed opportunity at free food, and another day to construct a meal of sorts. . . Maybe Wednesday will be brown rice with barbecue sauce day :(

My hands

So for those of you who know me, you know I'm an avid DO-er
meaning I have trouble sitting still and doing nothing
I don't watch much television (though what I do watch has been critiqued as being less that worthy--p-shaw Mike Webb!...i will have you know that many an educated woman (and man) gets a dose of GOOD TIMES from America's Next Top Model. And a whole host of designer-wannabes has been born from indulging in Project Runway.
Don't knock it til you know it!

I digress.

My hands are tools I like to keep busy under God's watch, and not satan's.
I knit, i crochet, i dance (sometimes), i cook (less sometimes than i dance), and i meet people and shake hands...i also hold onto the nasty poles on new york city subways--ew. And I guess it's pretty obvious that I write too.
But more than JUST write random thoughts (like I do here) I write poetry. If you knew me as a blogger before noseandeyelashes, you knew me for my soulbaring words written at arinmaya.blogspot.com

I'd been planning on putting together a book of poetry, and even had a good friend helping me with editing, but upon undertaking the editing of the book/manuscript found myself frozen and dumbfounded with (1) the amount of work that it needed, and (2) all the heart I'd put into it that was going to require me to really relive so many memories of some very interesting/dramatic/wonderful/not so great relationships (argh!)...
i decided to leave it alone

but just a couple days ago, a good friend who'd drifted away like sunshine behind a cloud (you'll catch on), came back to light and asked me about my book. i said "i had to let it go for a little while," only to pick it up the very next day.

I'm telling you all this so you can be in prayer with me about yet another of my God sent endeavors: getting this book done (on my end) and one day (no big rush) published. I think it's timely enough to come out now or in a year. I'm patient and I know my [stuff] is hot.

It's just a matter of God's time and my hand obeying what He says.
(By the way, this whole entry was just an excuse to share with you this short piece:

i don't know why you didn't save me when i knew and you knew you could
it hurt me to see your back when i thought we could see each other eye to eye
i decided i didn't know you at all
and instead of coming back to the potential of you turning your back on me twice in one year
i have stayed away
keeping myself busy with life
and dreams not you

--re-typing it now, it's definitely more a reflection, but i still like my words. it may not make the cut for the book, but it's how i felt. hopefully you can feel it to--or your version of it.)

Friends are like. . .

sunshine
sometimes they make us warm
sometimes they climb behind clouds and leave us feeling cold and alone
sometimes we forget to give them the due thanks, but they keep shining over us and bringing us all of what we need
sometimes they burn us, but from love (or need) we always go back for more--i guess we know it wasn't their purpose to burn

sometimes, suntimes, sometimes...
friends are there like the sunshine is always there, even when we can't see or feel it
sometimes bright, sometimes dim, but always always there