Showing posts with label adulthood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adulthood. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Good Morning.

The morning is an odd mistress. She's lovely when the sun rises and serene as we trudge through whatever kind of weather we're experiencing at the moment, and she disregards our bitching like any boss would.

Why exactly I'm ranting like a feminist rapper, I can't answer. The reason I can't answer is cause I don't fucking know. Lay off. Its 7 am and I'm 18.

The point of this blog post as less about being hostile and more learning to love the morning, however.

This is my second cup of coffee, and the caffeine is barely beginning to rile my system, but in this strange, half-lucid state I've figured out something vitally important to a high number of the adult population: mornings don't suck. We suck.

The morning don't give a shit if you woke up at five today, or of daylight savings fucked you up. What I'd the morning but the earth turning, giving the illusion the sun rose?

Breakfast? Showers? Changing clothes? Leaving your warm and fluffy bed?

The last part is the hardest and I promise the morning won't bite after you've done it. We've just gotta stop complaining about the morning for the morning to run smoothly.

Today will be fine.

Promise.

With love,
Nick Strange.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

How do you Come to Terms with Yourself?

Peter Capaldi's final remarks in his "letter to my younger self" in the website the Big Issue came to mind: "The biggest issue for my younger self will be dealing with himself."

I instantly tried to find some sort of connection to me, while simultaneously feeling a bit sad for the man and appreciating how everything turned out, realizing (slightly relieved) his young adult years are not to be mine.

Looking back at that reaction now, I can acknowledge I'm a bit self-centered, but it only makes sense: I haven't changed out of these PJs or really left my room in well over 24 hours and I've had three years of college-level metacognition beaten into my head--two of which were done during the super-impressionable high school years.

And when one grows tired of TV shows and books and big world crises, it is only natural to turn to oneself.

I mean, why not think of yourself? We're all stuck with ourselves, aren't we? We experience the universe and process all of creation as ourselves. And on an atomic level we will never really touch anything or anyone: our experience of stuff right down to color is ours alone, and no amount of loved ones will keep us from the clouded thoughts in our own heads.

I've come to think that inside ourselves, there are actually two: the ideal you, and the actual you.

As crazy as it could sound, just roll with it.

There's first, the ideal version: a product of your upbringing and exposure to societal expectations you've processed and selected for yourself. In short, the ideal you is who you want to be.

"No brainer!", right?

There's an entire industry around self-help and grabbing life by the horns and becoming the best "you" you can be!

But the real scary part happens when you realize you can't change everything.

Sure, you can make yourself drink more water, or lose the baby weight, or get back to what you once were or who you want to be. . . .but you can't change your nature.

Everyone has their flaws--grooves and crevices others fit into to fill your days up with happiness. We are, if anything, social creatures.

However, accepting those flaws is hard.

Even harder is letting go of the vices which say certain things are flaws!

Because we all want to be ideal and sometimes you just can't be.

There is an unspoken word inside of you, deep in your core and that is who you are. And that word is not changing. Not for an ideal.

And you've got to learn to live with yourself.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Enjoying your Stay.

Often times I'll find myself daydreaming about being 20 or 21 with a job and a small place somewhere. Enough to live and have some nice clothing and maybe even some fancy possessions if I save enough money.

Then I get back to life and realize I'm still 18 and on vacation after one semester of college.

That I still live with my parents and eat the food my mom cooks and have my meals played at restaurants and I go back to daydreaming with some level of illogical shame.

"Meh" both of my parents went when I mentioned this once. "You're the last one we got [in the nest]!"

"If I can't treat you, then who else?"

The sentiment is sweet. And I'll always appreciate it.

But time's a-tickin' and I'll have to occupy myself with other things as well.

I can't wait for the break to be over. I miss college! Where's the challenge?! Where's the pressures of being on your own?! Where's the life-destroying sword of Damocles?! I miss that demented game of minesweeper which came with the instilled mentality of the college shift: everything in life was at stake every time I did an art project, or wrote an essay, or took a math test!

I genuinely miss being at my wit's end all the time!

Now that there's no work to be done and no new news from my school. . . .I'm not sure what to do.

"Enjoy your stay." I tell myself. But what kind of stay is this? Nirvana isn't for me anymore, I don't think.

I'm not cut out for babysitting.

If my schedule doesn't work out I'll get a job! If it does work out, I'll stress out over that.

But right now, at this very instant?.

At least Sherlock season 3 is on.

N.S.

Monday, January 6, 2014

Stardust

If I could trade my art and writing skills for physical strength and a strong understanding on math, I would become an astronaut.

It seems better to just be in the void of space and learn about the stars instead of staying on this little marble.

If I seem disillusioned to you, it's because it feels like a better outcome than just being angry, even if in anger I can still feel the potential for home and change.

Or maybe I'm confusing anger for passion.

Instead of becoming passionate about the world against all odds, I'm just becoming sad.

Which is even more depressing, since I cant help but view those who don't care as bad people.

"But why would you view them as bad people?!" No one said I chose to. I'm a human being with a very narrow and linear thought process--anything highly against my ideals is viewed as "less worthy" or "bad".

If I seem nutty to you, it's because I am. We all are. Take solace in the fact you're not alone in this madness.

And because I become angry at those less compassionate than I-- because I valued that passion that came with compassion for so long--I became a nuisance.

Do I care less now? No. I'm just tired of no one understanding or being as upset?

Should this have passed years ago with me integrating into society with everyone else? Why is compassion and thinking things can and should change seen as childish, anyhow?

I can tell you now what I'm passionate about isn't a coincidence. And that it really does effect a ton if people--namely me, and everyone I've ever cared for. I'm a female minority in a state with no voting power! I focused on making myself educated because I deemed myself unlovable as a baby!* What else did anyone expect me to do?!

Maybe someday the people I live with will understand, or I'll move in with people who do.

Who knows. I'm only 18.

With love
Nick Strange.
----------------------
*what I decided the first time in picked up a Harry Potter book (elementary school; six or seven years old) is a telling sign of what we teach young girls and what my personality is: I was not barbie. I wasn't going to be popular or beautiful or loved by boys, so I decided I wanted to smart and powerful instead. I wanted to command boys and demand things from them like a boss.

And I decided I'd focus on good stuff, too.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Tonight

Tonight, my best friend turned 18.

She's the second youngest of our group of friends, and tonight she joined the ranks of the legal adults!

Only, of course, we're not actually adults. Not in behavior, anyway. Not in maturity.

We ran to one another as though it had been a million years, spoke loudly and chortled in our laughter.

Essentially, we were the annoying kids at the back of the restaurant (I am deeply ashamed).

Somewhere between catching up and emotional Disney sing-alongs, the funeral I had just went to the week before came to mind:

I saw my cousins for the first time since I was born--all fine men and women between 25-35, perpetually frozen as scrappy teenagers in the stories I heard from my parents.

Despite trying to stay on my best behavior and converse like a grown-up, they were very understanding of my childish Facebook name, slouched posture, and goofy grins.

One cousin even reminded me of all the times her and my older sister drove around for food and to check out boys! I'm not sure how she felt about my going to cons, but she didn't judge.

Juxtaposing those girl my cousin spoke of--the ones who waisted gas on "mensada y media"--to the girls and boys at the restaurant tonight, I couldn't help but laugh to myself.

Both sets were barely gaining the ability to think complexly, and we believed ourselves so mature but a year ago!

Half-serious, we joked about our de-maturing before a wiser, more honest friend laughed out "No, we just pretended to be more mature!"

When asking my mom about how normal that was, she just shook her head, saying this was the most mature thing in the world. That we're growing up just fine.

Maybe letting go is first step to really growing up.

Monday, October 21, 2013

Change Life

They say one should always be careful when planning a career.

And after all, the future is an uncertain mess made of decisions, possibilities  and the finite human existence.

Then why do we plan?

The answer's pretty simple: for most of us, it's because we're expected to. A lot of us find it's a way to give meaning to existence. I think everyone does it for food to some extent.

But above all, I think it comes down to boredom.

Human society itself--every great creation you've ever seen or heard or loved--comes down to boredom.

Keeping this in mind, surprisingly, makes a lot of decisions easier for me to make. People are bored and devised a system where you have to do things in order to eat, so why not do the things you love if you can?

Why not take a chance and do something you actually enjoy, even if it's not to gain those little bits of paper we trade around for goods and services, and see where it takes you?
This life is an amazingly short one, and you're only going to live it greatly if you roll with it.

Grow.

Explore.
Have fun with yourself!

And whatever you do, don't be afraid to try again when you mess up.

A professor of mine always begins his lectures and tips for art making with the phrase "We don't make mistakes, but if you want to change something. . ."

It's fitting for life, too.

Go change something.

With Love
Nick Strange

Monday, October 14, 2013

Stop trying to "figure it out" already.

Today, I found an image of the original description of the F.R.I.E.N.D.S cast (or what tumblr claimed to be the original description for the cast).

Monica, Rachel, Pheebs, Ross, Joey, and Chandler haven't change much at all from that original description at all, and I love them for it. These characters played a central part in my childhood, and to this day hold a special spot in my heart for it.

What managed to get me thinking was what they were all doing together--they were "all trying to figure it out".

It occurred to me no one I've ever known--even my parents or aunts, grandmother, or great-grand mother (from the stories I've heard), sisters or older friends--have ever really "figured it out". And then I realized how a once solemn, profound and calming phrase was actually really vague.

Does anyone know what "it" actually is?

We can usually assume "it" is another phrase for "life". It's actually a pretty accurate representation. Life is vague. Life is scary and all-encompassing and we have to cope with "it" since there's no getting around existing, less you're dead.

I sincerely hope you're not dead. I love you all.

Unless of course, you're actually a dead ghost reading this over someone's shoulder. In which case, good on you, ghosty! I love you too!

But I digress: "figuring it out" is an impossible task, as tangible as it may seem when you try and think about it. To figure out what life is supposed to be about for you is assuming the purpose is already set before you're even alive. Or that you're going to have things smooth out as soon as you find the one thing you want to do more than anything else with your life.

It implies deliberate planning. It implies smooth choices or smooth endings. Or at the very least that soul-crushing endings cannot occur. That those things happen to other people, but you've got "it" figured out so you're okay, right?

No one has this. No one's got the perfect life, and no one should expect themselves or others to have this wonderful life even a fraction of the time.

Among the glossy autobiographies and True Hollywood stories or even pretty and cutsey Facebook updates, we lose sight of the hard details and life's challenges each and every one of us faces every day.

So if you're scared, or angry, or saddened today, take a deep breath. Relax. You are in very good company. The rest of the world, actually. Eventually, you're gonna be okay.

With Love
Nikola Strange.

Monday, October 7, 2013

A Matter of Timing

A girl in black jeans and a beanie sat in front of me today. She was carrying a paper-mache head--soon to be a goblin--and a black backpack with some slight residue of glue. Her huge project struck me as odd enough to begin a conversation on, and after explaining the head for for 3D Design, I asked her how long she's been in our humble community college.

She said three years.

It was her fifth semester here, and after taking her generals, she planned on transferring to another school for a studio arts degree.

Of course, I had to ask the dreaded "what do you plan on doing with your degree?" Question. She, like many here, didn't know what to do. She even called herself a "slacker" for not narrowing down her major.

And ended our conversation with the professional yet overused "I'm still undecided" response.

Coming from a Mexican-American family, those three dreaded words sends me down the eternal loop of childish shame.

My mother studied in Mexico's UABC after her “prepa”* days were over before meeting my father and falling in love. In Mexico’s school system, you're essentially assigned a roll to live with for the rest of your life depending on your skill-set. From the moment you enter high school you're given a curriculum to stick with until you’ve got your degree and field.

"And none of that 'switching majors' thing!" My mother says with pride whenever she explains her time in school, most recently with the bank lady whom helped me open up my first account. Our lady was an immigrant herself, fluent in English and Spanish with a son in UC something or other. And her and my mother agreed on one thing: "I don't understand how it's done here in the United States! You're spending so much money and you're undecided?!"

With such a mindset, it isn't hard to understand the helicopter parent phenomenon: With such fleeting and uncertain life goals, it’s only logical to not leave their sides! Our children are still foolish and confused and need us around!

And it's partly true.

It's far too easy to get caught up in the financial matters and chose a major with the intention of making back the money spent to acquire it in a short period of time. Logically speaking, it should be the first goal of every new college student--find the jobs with demand and specialize in that!

The real question is, then, “why don't we?”

Complex questions deserve complex answers, do they not? We can search back to the very beginning of human history and find rebellious generation after rebellious generation and write it off as just that--someday, we will all assimilate back into the inevitable glow-cloud of adulthood and turn into our parents and thank them for their troubles.

If I'm not mistaken, that's Kieron Gillen's entire "Young Avengers" plotline at the moment.

Too many of us tremble in fear at the idea of turning into a stiff in a cubicle, to the point we've come to glorify staying young in music and media. We're constantly joking about not being grown ups by posting youthful throwbacks on social media sites, and are even beginning a rewrite of what it means to become an adult^.

Wistful, dreamy little buggers, we are, trying to align our dreams with a practical reality. And thus far, this generation's had a lot of help dreaming--Tumblr, Twitter and YouTube have made it easier than ever for people to get in contact with those "lick-your-face famous” people we admire. And since they all come from relatively successful lives, their unified message stands as advice worth listening to: Never stop dreaming.

That powerful message is being wired into the minds of every young adult with an internet connection and a love for pop culture--that’s a lot of young adults. This flies in the face of the free-market private colleges`, where the logical choice would be to major in a financially stimulating field.

Despite being in love with the options a free-market economy gives, I am not a firm believer  every damn thing on this earth needs to-or even can--be successfully marketed.

Like health care.

Or college.

So "Why don't the kids just study something useful?!" Because your life shouldn't be determined by returning an investment someone made on you. You’re not merchandise.

Unlike the shiny new products lining every store in America right now, we might not even be good at what's in demand right now--and I don't just mean the obvious lack of mathematic and scientific skills in our country. I'm talking about even more basic needs: we weren’t all cut out to be nurses, doctors, or engineers(!).

Some of us aren’t made for those fields.

And some of us just don’t want to go into that line of work anyway.

In a nation of affluence, we'll see fifty, sixty year old people leave their old workplaces and in retirement try to find some form of spiritual meaning in their lives. More and more young people are picking up on the idea of fulfillment in their futures--after all, many are still without children or major responsibilities beyond their own livelihoods. They have nothing stopping them from trying. We thirst for this level of fulfillment and happiness that can't be found if we comply to what is logical. Which is why there's now an entire self-help industry surrounding being the best version of you possible.

The Live your legend program was started by a guy living in San Francisco who wanted to help those people wanting a new slice of life. Most of the product on their page is absolutely free (I know, right?), including a 27 question guide they feel is important to ask yourself. One question stuck with me the most: "What would you do for someone else for free?"

That question--that all-encompassing question--might just be the solving matter on what we should study in college and if it'll be worth drowning yourself in debt for. What would you do for someone else for free? Would you draw? Would you dance? Would you clean? Would you organize? Would you write?

So many successful people seem to have that "get up and go" drive towards what they wanted to make out of themselves. Those glossy, autobiographical legend stories of normal people with a special drive we can all paste ourselves into like that soldier poster in the Captain America movie. I wonder how much of it is bullshit.

To me, it seems like many of us are sitting here feeling like Steve before the serum, trying to fit into the one-size-fits-all propaganda poster.

I wonder how many of them began as timid Steves trying to do what they would've done without pay anyway. Like Tom Hiddleston once said, success comes after you allow yourself to care.

And many try and deal with this fear of caring and fear of failing in different ways. Many just don't allow themselves to ever care. Many push themselves to do so. A man named Marcus in my Math class spent his time writing down memorable quotes and committing them to memory as a motivator. He aims to be a public speaker.

I write.

With love,
Nikola Strange
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NOTES:
* “prepa” is short for “preparatoria”, or preparatory school. It’s Mexico’s equivalent to high school.

^ Does “fuck you, I’m an adult!” sound familiar? We’ve changed the meaning of becoming an adult from a stiff person in a normal job doing normal things we can’t relate to, to simply an older version of you. A version that still watches Saturday Morning Cartoons when they have a day off, but now pays bills and does laundry.
(!) Example: I'm freakishly paranoid and get super queasy with pain, so I don't want to work in the medical field despite the job security.

` Private Colleges aren’t the only ridiculously expensive luxury toy at the moment. California leads as the most expensive state for tuitions in 2011 (la times), and a chart from KQUED shows the staggering rise in tuition for both UC and CSU schools.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

After-School reflections

It’s two in the morning and Adele is my company.

The end of high school doesn't feel as eventful as movies would have you assume, and even there it isn't that glamorous. The music and end scene—the lessons learned and the friends made—is almost never impacted by the graduation. Even the speeches made and applauses echoing and the hats thrown don’t fill the void of the “what now?” question, and it isn't possible for me to answer it now.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

"Reality" my ass

I hate the term "Welcome to the real world".

Whenever you have to take a detour--working your way through or even to a college--someone feels the need to smirk and laugh while saying that horrible phrase.

Well fuck you and your "real world!"

It's probably my own childish ambitions, but I just can't stand the phrase. I can't stand the idea of not doing anything I've planned, and I feel like violently thrashing and screaming until control is safely back in my own hands. And since that's never going to happen and it was never fully in my hands to begin with, I'll just glare at you aggressively.

I like to think I'll make something out of myself and make it where I need to go, so please don't ruin it for every goddamn young person trying, or even joke about failure. We're all just trying to get farther than our predecessors here.

With love
Nick Strange