I don't know if I've mentioned previously in this blog or not, but I'm really big into photography. I love taking photos and looking for different perspectives and new ways to look at things. I nearly went to school for photography, but for too many complicated reasons to list, I didn't. I know the tendency of people to consider themselves a professional (or at least really good) in something they take on as a hobby when they're really not that good or simply mediocer, taking photos happens to be one of the few things I'm really good at. Even before I realized I was good, I had friends and family telling me that I was. It took me a bit to start paying attention to them to realize this is something I not only enjoy doing, but I also happen to be good at (the difference between enjoying and being good at something is like my singing - I like doing it, but I'm never going to win American Idol).
Ok, so what does all this have to do with anything? Since I've been back from Europe (a whole chronicle at www.stephislostonpurpose.blogspot.com ) I've felt a little bored. I've been job hunting for something to use my degree in, but there's nothing, and that whole 'stalled' thing comes into play again. There's not much for me to do when I'm not working, so I've decided to sort of pursue my 'photography.' Normally what I shoot are really close up photos (uncomfortably close photos is what I call them when I get really close to a person), but I do occasionally shoot what I call 'character studies.' Where it's not a portrait or a landscape, but simply a unique image.
I'm getting to my point really quick now (I just needed to explain a bit about what and how I do things so there's some understanding in some of the photos I'll put up).
The other day, I went to a local graveyard to do a shoot (I know it sounds creepy, but I really like graveyards. I find them peaceful places). Anyway, as I was doing my shoot, and reading the names on all the gravestones, I found myself thinking about the lives these people lived. The sorrows they suffered (plenty of infants were buried there), the happiness, and everything else in between. I realized all of these people were dead. There's nothing left of them except maybe some descendants, and a name and a date carved into stone. It made me realize that nothing we do in this life matters after we die. I'm not saying that we shouldn't strive to be good people, but the embarrassments we feel, the uncertainties that hinder us, don't end up mattering. So if you're afraid to ask someone out, when you're buried and 100 years later someone is walking on your grave, that doesn't matter any more. If you're afraid of taking a risk because you're not sure how it'll turn out, it doesn't matter. Death is final in so many ways. We need to live kindly and with love to have full lives, but everything else doesn't matter. Our end is absolute. Our deaths are definitive. But our uncertainties are nothing more than the grip of death choking us out long before it is our time to go.
Living fully is hard to do. And it took walking through a graveyard and thinking about the people who are already gone to help me come to the conclusion to do so. Death is final, but a life can be just as definitive.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Decisions
Lately I've been feeling there is more I should be doing with my life. Things I should do because eventually the opportunities to do so will have come and gone.
I'm thinking about going to South Korea to teach English for a year. I won't make any final decisions until about one year from now. I want make absolutely positive it's what I want to do. If I'm right, doing so would not only let me experience life in a completely different culture, but allow me to pay off all of my student loans and come back with a clean slate. Also, after my year was up, I think with just a small amount of my left over money, I'd live in India for a couple of months. As a whole the idea, sounds grand, but as I know from a 5 week backpacking journey around Europe, I'd miss home and the people I know, I'd miss events in the peoples' whose lives I cherish.
As my mom always tells me, "You can have anything you want; you can't have everything you want."
I wish someone could tell me what I want the most. What would be worth more to me. Decisions are so hard when it means giving up and compromising a piece of yourself no matter what you choose.
I'm thinking about going to South Korea to teach English for a year. I won't make any final decisions until about one year from now. I want make absolutely positive it's what I want to do. If I'm right, doing so would not only let me experience life in a completely different culture, but allow me to pay off all of my student loans and come back with a clean slate. Also, after my year was up, I think with just a small amount of my left over money, I'd live in India for a couple of months. As a whole the idea, sounds grand, but as I know from a 5 week backpacking journey around Europe, I'd miss home and the people I know, I'd miss events in the peoples' whose lives I cherish.
As my mom always tells me, "You can have anything you want; you can't have everything you want."
I wish someone could tell me what I want the most. What would be worth more to me. Decisions are so hard when it means giving up and compromising a piece of yourself no matter what you choose.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Wanting
Do you ever find that what you think you want, compared to what you end up getting, is never as great? That most of the time the gift of an unexpected ending is far better than the one you imagined for yourself? Even in times where you feel you've been cheated in the most immediate moment, but somewhere down the road, you have not only hit the smooth proverbial pavement, free of speed bumps, but your car has also transformed from a broken down 1987 Crown Victoria into a classic 1968 mint condition Mustang, the driving weather's perfect, you play soft rock from the radio completely commercial free, and now you have all the time in the world to cruise to your destination on top of the luxurious travelling style?
Wanting is good . . . it helps to teach us that what we can plan for ourselves is never so much better than what we end up getting.
Wanting is good . . . it helps to teach us that what we can plan for ourselves is never so much better than what we end up getting.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
What?
What? This seems to be the question constantly pounding on my brain these days. If the the word 'what' and the punctuation 'question mark' where a tangible thing, it'd be a little man with a mallet swinging away at the gray matter that composes my brain.
I'm struggling with life at the moment. It isn't that I expect to ever have a time where making choices and feeling a bit lost, but as I've mentioned in a previous post, I feel stalled. And I've realized it's not so much that things just aren't happening for me, so much as I don't know what I want.
What do I want? The 'American Dream' image flashes through my head: a white picket fence, a dog, husband, house, children, block parties, a family Sudan, and everything that particular package entails. Or the adventurous life style: A rucksack and battered clothing, little money, but worldliness and thrilling adventures to share when coming home to family. Or the solitary lifestyle: a dead end job, one bedroom apart meant, a cat, and late night television. In the story telling world there are only seven basic story plots. Hundreds of years and hundreds of thousands of good writers have managed to create fabulous adventures, but at the core nearly story is identical. A difference in names, made-up places, conflicts, and loves only manages to re-create an already written story. There is a certain construction to writing a story, otherwise it doesn't count as a story. It doesn't mean a love story like Pride and Prejudice is any less romantic than Twilight because it's older or that (in some people peoples' opinion) is better. They can both be equally romantic.
My point, is I think a person's life is nothing more than a re-written story. I think there are only so many lives able to be lived, and my problem is choosing which one is for me. What do I pick? The classic grow-up, go to school, get a job, get married, have kids, get a dog or the free-spirit, travel the world, and see a lot of culture version of life?
I guess my fear with ultimately choosing one version of life over another is regret I know I would feel having not chosen a different one. My problem though, is I want pieces of both. I know there are friends and family who would tell me I can have both and make the best of it, but I once heard this piece wisdom and it resounds throughout my head every time I start thinking about my future; it goes like this: "You can have anything you want. You just can't have everything you want." And my problem is I believe that. It is not possible, in life, to get absolutely everything your heart desires.
I know I want a family. But I also want to see the world. I want to be in love. But I also want to be free. But in all cases, one doesn't usually come with the other. Something has to be sacrificed. I just don't know what my heart's willing to give up. What is the right choice?
And maybe there is an unwritten story. Maybe there is one more plot that hasn't been discovered that would work out well for me. I find it funny, most people go through life hoping to always be right. I'm always hoping to be wrong.
I'm struggling with life at the moment. It isn't that I expect to ever have a time where making choices and feeling a bit lost, but as I've mentioned in a previous post, I feel stalled. And I've realized it's not so much that things just aren't happening for me, so much as I don't know what I want.
What do I want? The 'American Dream' image flashes through my head: a white picket fence, a dog, husband, house, children, block parties, a family Sudan, and everything that particular package entails. Or the adventurous life style: A rucksack and battered clothing, little money, but worldliness and thrilling adventures to share when coming home to family. Or the solitary lifestyle: a dead end job, one bedroom apart meant, a cat, and late night television. In the story telling world there are only seven basic story plots. Hundreds of years and hundreds of thousands of good writers have managed to create fabulous adventures, but at the core nearly story is identical. A difference in names, made-up places, conflicts, and loves only manages to re-create an already written story. There is a certain construction to writing a story, otherwise it doesn't count as a story. It doesn't mean a love story like Pride and Prejudice is any less romantic than Twilight because it's older or that (in some people peoples' opinion) is better. They can both be equally romantic.
My point, is I think a person's life is nothing more than a re-written story. I think there are only so many lives able to be lived, and my problem is choosing which one is for me. What do I pick? The classic grow-up, go to school, get a job, get married, have kids, get a dog or the free-spirit, travel the world, and see a lot of culture version of life?
I guess my fear with ultimately choosing one version of life over another is regret I know I would feel having not chosen a different one. My problem though, is I want pieces of both. I know there are friends and family who would tell me I can have both and make the best of it, but I once heard this piece wisdom and it resounds throughout my head every time I start thinking about my future; it goes like this: "You can have anything you want. You just can't have everything you want." And my problem is I believe that. It is not possible, in life, to get absolutely everything your heart desires.
I know I want a family. But I also want to see the world. I want to be in love. But I also want to be free. But in all cases, one doesn't usually come with the other. Something has to be sacrificed. I just don't know what my heart's willing to give up. What is the right choice?
And maybe there is an unwritten story. Maybe there is one more plot that hasn't been discovered that would work out well for me. I find it funny, most people go through life hoping to always be right. I'm always hoping to be wrong.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Smelling Memories
I noticed this morning, while reading my book in front of the open window, that the summer's air smells a bit different now. At the start of summer it always seems to carry the scent of sun screen, heat, grills, and mowed lawns. The earthy smell of spring has gone because snow leftover from winter is no longer melting into the ground giving off the damp smell of the earth.
Now, the air smells more like the ground again due to cooler nights, the occasionally mowed lawn, and less like sunscreen and more like a freshly opened pack of loose leaf paper. The spice of autumn is not present yet, but the promise of change is in the air as well.
It is said that smell, out of all of the five senses, is the one to trigger memory in the strongest way. I will say I agree. As I caught of whiff of the air a bunch of emotions and memories came rushing to the front of my brain. I remember going school supplies shopping with my mom and siblings toward the end of August every year: the smell of crisp new notebooks, fresh rubber from a brand new pair of sneakers, and the feel of never worn before cotton t-shirts.
How can I describe years of memories of anticipation for school to start (though usually by Christmas break I'd be ready for the year to be over)? The disappointment summer is over and staying out way after dark is no longer possible? The putting away of swim suits and getting out the old comfortable sweatshirts that I'd curl up in on a cool rainy day while watching favorite classic movies like The Sound of Music and The Wizard of Oz?
Though it is still summer I can smell my memories on the edge of the wind. The promise of change, but also the promise of something familiar and comforting. I must admit however, this year, autumn will be a little bitter sweet for me. It's the first fall, since I was five years old, I will not be going to school. I graduated college last December and do not have any more schooling (at least at this point). Spring wasn't even difficult because I was getting ready to go to Europe, but stores now have discounts on school supplies and back packs, and I see little kids with eagerness on their faces and they pick out the folders they want for each class, and can not help but feel a bit sad. I already miss campus. It was always beautiful in the fall.
No matter how sad I may be by this simple change, I am also glad for it. It gives me something new to create a memory. I'm not sure what I'll look forward to in the coming years when I smell the changing breeze, but I hope it's something pleasant, even if it ends up being bitter sweet.
Now, the air smells more like the ground again due to cooler nights, the occasionally mowed lawn, and less like sunscreen and more like a freshly opened pack of loose leaf paper. The spice of autumn is not present yet, but the promise of change is in the air as well.
It is said that smell, out of all of the five senses, is the one to trigger memory in the strongest way. I will say I agree. As I caught of whiff of the air a bunch of emotions and memories came rushing to the front of my brain. I remember going school supplies shopping with my mom and siblings toward the end of August every year: the smell of crisp new notebooks, fresh rubber from a brand new pair of sneakers, and the feel of never worn before cotton t-shirts.
How can I describe years of memories of anticipation for school to start (though usually by Christmas break I'd be ready for the year to be over)? The disappointment summer is over and staying out way after dark is no longer possible? The putting away of swim suits and getting out the old comfortable sweatshirts that I'd curl up in on a cool rainy day while watching favorite classic movies like The Sound of Music and The Wizard of Oz?
Though it is still summer I can smell my memories on the edge of the wind. The promise of change, but also the promise of something familiar and comforting. I must admit however, this year, autumn will be a little bitter sweet for me. It's the first fall, since I was five years old, I will not be going to school. I graduated college last December and do not have any more schooling (at least at this point). Spring wasn't even difficult because I was getting ready to go to Europe, but stores now have discounts on school supplies and back packs, and I see little kids with eagerness on their faces and they pick out the folders they want for each class, and can not help but feel a bit sad. I already miss campus. It was always beautiful in the fall.
No matter how sad I may be by this simple change, I am also glad for it. It gives me something new to create a memory. I'm not sure what I'll look forward to in the coming years when I smell the changing breeze, but I hope it's something pleasant, even if it ends up being bitter sweet.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Limits
What limits us?
Fear? Indecision? Or just a part of who we are? When the time to act is upon us and we do nothing, how is it we can reasonably justify our idleness? In a world where things are already complicated enough, do we excuse our lack of action with a series of convoluted half-truths, so we don't have to feel bad about the things we do not do?
So here is my question: is anything actually complicated, or do we just make it complicated because it's easier than owning up to the truth? When I think about everything I do that requires action and decision, the out-come, no matter the situation, is never as terrifying or uncomfortable as I've imagined; with that, sometimes the out-come is quite pleasant. And typically after I've "acted" or "decided" I feel better. Like an internal Feng Shui.
So why are there times when I still do not act? Why do I limit myself? It's no good for me: I brood on the chances I do not take, I envy those who do what I do not, and when I'm unhappy because this, I become angry at myself, because I am the source of my own unhappiness. Yet, despite all this, I still do not act.
What limits us when we know the only barrier between moving forward and being left behind is ourself?
Fear? Indecision? Or just a part of who we are? When the time to act is upon us and we do nothing, how is it we can reasonably justify our idleness? In a world where things are already complicated enough, do we excuse our lack of action with a series of convoluted half-truths, so we don't have to feel bad about the things we do not do?
So here is my question: is anything actually complicated, or do we just make it complicated because it's easier than owning up to the truth? When I think about everything I do that requires action and decision, the out-come, no matter the situation, is never as terrifying or uncomfortable as I've imagined; with that, sometimes the out-come is quite pleasant. And typically after I've "acted" or "decided" I feel better. Like an internal Feng Shui.
So why are there times when I still do not act? Why do I limit myself? It's no good for me: I brood on the chances I do not take, I envy those who do what I do not, and when I'm unhappy because this, I become angry at myself, because I am the source of my own unhappiness. Yet, despite all this, I still do not act.
What limits us when we know the only barrier between moving forward and being left behind is ourself?
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