Cookies and Peace

I just received a text from my best friend saying that as she walked out of our favorite bakery with our favorite cookies, a woman glared at her and said, “You shouldn’t be eating cookies in the morning.”

Just a few questions for you, Woman:

Why does an action that has nothing to do with you aggravate you?

And why does it aggravate you SO MUCH that you felt the need to say something out loud about it?

And why did you say it even when you knew it would probably make another person feel terrible?

My best friend and I love that bakery. If we could live there and work there and lick cookie dough off the floor everyday, we would. Every cookie is as big as my palm. They’re perfectly crunchy on the outside and gooey on the inside. When we were at boarding school, my dad would send us a dozen for Valentine’s Day, and it would be the best day of the year. These cookies have always been associated with sweetness, gratefulness, warm tummies, giggles, and chocolate all over our faces and down our arms. What she said was one simple line, but the implications were immense. This woman ruined the experience.

And what the hell is it with people and food these days? Why are people so damn sensitive when it comes to eating? People are being judged on what they eat, how much they eat, and when they eat.  If eating something makes me feel good, then I’ll be eating until the day it stops making me feel good. So leave me the hell alone.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this, and maybe I’m getting a little too worked up over something that didn’t even happen to me. But I just don’t get people who 1) can’t mind their own business and 2) people who try to force their lifestyles onto innocent people who are just trying to start the day on a good note by eating A GODDAMN COOKIE FOR BREAKFAST.

Saw this the other day. So accurate. #Preachx50000

mind your own business

Boxers and Connections

Remember how I’m a magnet for weirdos? Well, about 10 minutes after I published my previous post, I met Severo and Moones. Just a quick summary of my last post: I expressed the struggle of finding balance between being adaptable and retaining my identity.

I noticed Moones first because she is a 70 pound boxer. Then Severo, the 36-year-old guy with the dreads.

Severo is essentially a homeless artist whose soul you could feel by the positive energy he was emitting. He really listened, he really looked into my eyes, and he didn’t just say words–he really spoke.

In less than 10 minutes, I learned more about him than I wanted (he’s been celibate for a year); half the stuff he said did not make any sense to me (artsy stuff); and I couldn’t keep up with all the tangents he was going on (shelters, music, the government, souls…). But after I left the 2-hour-long conversation with him, I was the happiest I had been in a long time.

My description and paraphrasing does not do him or the power his words had on me justice. We talked about everything–dogs, art, traveling, our hometowns, and life. Most of it revolved around being present and being happy. In between topics, he would slip in comments like, “Nicole, you have such pure expressions!” I have no idea what that means exactly, but it was the most genuine and confident-boosting compliment I have ever received. We talked and talked until I felt so comfortable with him, I blurted out, “So I just wrote this blog post…” I told him all about my living out of a suitcase for a month and my mini identity crisis. When I got to the word “adaptable” he interrupted me (the only time he interrupted me) and said, “Connecting.” I probably had the dumbest look on my face because he continued to say, “Don’t put yourself down by saying ‘adapting.’ You connect.” I was shocked by this completely alien point of view. I liked it. I continued, replacing “adapt” with “connect” and finished describing my struggle. He then told me that I’m trying to appease. He said that I do that because I don’t want to offend or make people uncomfortable. He said that I should just be me and scare the shit out of people because that’s how shit gets done! That’s what gets people thinking and growing.

“But,” he said, ” I understand ‘appeasing.’ We all do it. But if you’re going to do it, make it your art. You could be like a samurai, and have different masks in front of different people but have this hidden sword that people don’t know about.” OKAY. So that part didn’t make complete sense to me, but I dig the “making appeasing an art” thing. I guess our conversation never really answered my question. He presented a case for both the “adaptable” and the “unapologetic” me. But the way we talked about it, the way he looked at each side so positively, made me feel so good about myself.

At one point of the conversation, he asked me, “What intensifies your life?” That stopped me dead in my tracks because what the hell intensifies my life? I thought about it as he rambled on about his art and his initiative. I guess what intensifies my life, Severo, are the unexpected encounters I have with people I meet. Especially honest people like Severo, whose fire burns so fervently, that the whole journey ahead of me has become a little brighter because of him.

Playgrounds and Friends

Today’s rant is going to be about growing up.

It sucks. Period.

Everything gradually becomes more difficult and complex with age. Take making friends as an example. I vividly remember my playground days. All I had to do was go up to a kid who looked like fun and say, “Hey, wanna play?” they say yes, then boom! FRIENDSHIP! There was no beating around the bush. It was just me, my new friend, and a game of family or princesses in a castle or whatever.

I wish that were the case now.

Having been a gypsy for a month, living out of a suitcase and crashing at a different friend’s house each week, I’ve fully experienced the phenomenon that different people bring out different sides of you. One friend brings out the chill side of me; one brings out the vulgar and loud side of me; another brings out the considerate and contemplative side of me. But there’s that one “me,” my favorite “me,” the “me” that is unfiltered, unapologetic, and genuine, that I wish could be present at all times regardless of who I’m with. Is that possible? Can I just be that ballsy girl on the playground, ALWAYS?

I’m a very adaptable person. I consider it my only true strength. My adaptability was instilled by my mother, who spent an endless amount of time telling and showing me what it means to be a good guest, and developed by the time I have spent living as a guest in friends’ homes, and having culturally, socio-economically, and temperamentally diverse friends. This means that not only am I a considerate guest, but I also have an adaptable personality. The way I talk, the way I dress, the way I eat alters with the person I am with. That should be a good thing, right? Being flexible, morphing my personality into what fits the others’? But why do I find it so exhausting? And why do I find myself yearning to be but not being able to be the one, true “me”? So tell me, whoever is reading this rant that is no longer just about growing up, how do I keep my adaptability and my identity at the same time?

SOS

Weird Vibes and Pathetic Puppies

Today I went to Starbucks. Below is my encounter with the barista:

Me: Hi! Could you fill my water bottles, please?

Starbucks Guy: Yeah, with water?

Me:  I mean, it would be nice if you could fill them with iced coffee, but water is fine.

SG: Yeah, I can fill it with iced coffee. (Proceeds to fill my 1 liter water bottle with iced coffee)

Me: Oh. Wow. Thanks.

If you knew me, you’d know that I’m a magnet for weird encounters. Sometimes they’re pleasant–like my free weeklong supply of iced coffee–and sometimes they’re just straight up bizarre. For example, just yesterday, a sketchy man came up to me and said, “Hey.. Uh.. so I have this backpack situation.. and uh… I’m just a little short on my cab fare… And uh… yeah.. I left my backpack.. and yeah I need 25 bucks in cash.”

OKAY MISTER. First of all, 25 bucks isn’t A LITTLE short. Second of all, WHAT?

There’s something about me that makes strangers think I’m the go-to girl for the time, for money, for cigarettes, and for DMCs (deep meaningful conversations). I’ve also had a complete stranger say, “You’re the girl of my dreams and I’ll be thinking of you all night” to me. Mind you, I was on a run wearing baggy gym clothes and panting like a dehydrated donkey.

What is it about me? I can’t tell if it’s because I look approachable or if I look like a pathetic puppy that’s fun to fuck with. It’s a question that I’ve been struggling to find the answer to.

LMK/HMU if you find the answer.THX

Contrarians and Paris

In four days, I will be in Paris!

Until a few days ago, I had no desire whatsoever to visit Paris. I’ve always subconsciously rejected everything that is widely popular to seem like a nonconformist (I’m not a hipster I swear). That’s why Russia is at the top of my to-go-list, and why I am taking German instead of French or Italian, and why I hate Finding Nemo. With Taylor Swift… well… I have a love-hate relationship with her. Contrarian, I believe, is the word. Paris has always been showered with praise. #shitnoonesays: “Paris was mediocre at best,” or “Paris was such a bitch!” So naturally, I developed a slight animosity towards Paris. I thought Paris was overrated and that I’d seen all that there is to see in movies. This all changed on Friday.

A few weeks ago, I met a French girl at a hostel in Puerto Rico. Her name was Chloé and she also happened to be doing an exchange program at the college I attend. This past Friday, I arranged for us to meet over coffee to talk Paris.

Being a contrarian, the typical tourist attractions have no appeal to me, so I went to Chloé for the inside scoop. After an hour and a half of excited giggles and oh-my-god-you-HAVE-to-go-here!s, my new Parisian friend presented me with a long, extensive, and barely legible to-do-list.

I would like to share this list with you for three purposes:

  1. To type it out so that it will be legible to me later
  2. To share a local’s perspective on Paris with all travelers
  3. To be held accountable for writing a follow-up post about my trip in a week

I apologize in advance for the lack of breathtaking pictures but I promise (I may or may not be crossing my fingers behind my back) I will put them up some time in the near future.

Grouped by area/places within a walkable distance:

Group 1:

  • Pont des Arts (iconic bridge with locks)
  • Centre Georges Pompiduo (Museum for modern art)
  • Le Marais (neighborhood)
  • –> L’Cas de Falafel (good falafels!) on rue des rosiers (shopping, vintage clothing)
  • –>Place des Vosges (house of Victor Hugo)
  • L’île St Louis (another neighborhood)
  • –>Glace Berthillons (best ice cream in Paris, according to Chloé)
  • Jardin du Luxembourg (garden)
  • Notre Dame (no explanation needed)
  • La Sorbonne
  • Pantheon (old building a lot of art on its exterior)
  • Rue Mouffetard
  • –>La Crete (Greek food)
  • “Patrick Roger” (Boulevard Saint Germain)  Best chocolate in town
  • Republique –> Canal Saint Martin (to shop and walk around)

Group 2:

  • Jeu de Paume (museum, photography)
  • Arc de Triomphe on Avenue des Champs Elysées (walk on the top of the arc for free to get a beautiful view of the city)
  • Grand Palais (museum, cool building so nice to walk by if time doesn’t permit a tour of the museum)
  • Le Louvre (Obvi)

Group 3:

  • Montmartre
  • Le Sacre Coeur (Sacred Heart)
  • Place du Tertre (cool place to just hang out, look at art)
  • Moulin Rouge

This is a super disorganized list and I left out a lot of details Chloé gave me but I will let you know how it all goes when I return!

Thanks for tuning in!

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Books and Waiting

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I have wanted to share this little paragraph for a while. It is taken from The Discreet Pleasures of Rejection by Martin Page. The paragraph describes a scene in which the protagonist watches his friend waiting for him at a cafe.

I am a very punctual person who just happens to have many friends who aren’t. I spend a lot of time waiting. I hate waiting because I’m not an elegant waiter. I never know what to do, I never know where to look, and I never know where to put my hands. I end up looking like an antsy five year old who really needs to pee. So yes, Martin Page, I completely agree–waiting is an ancestral art that was complex and refined–and if there’s one thing I want to achieve in life, it’s to be a graceful waiter.

Masochism and Zits

Masochism is in human nature.

Think about all the things humans come up with to torture themselves– Roller coasters, horror movies, spicy food, Calculus, bras… The list goes on but today I’m going to talk about stress.

It is scientifically proven somewhere by someone that busier people are happier. And I believe stress is implied in business (it’s probably also scientifically proven somewhere by someone). So with the above premises, we can conclude that stress and happiness come hand in hand.

What is wrong with us? Why can’t we be happy with being happy? Why do we have to stress ourselves out to be happy??

Okay, I admit. This is an extremely flawed logic and has absolutely no scientific basis. But I am a living and breathing example of the stress–>happiness phenomenon. If you read my last post, you’ll know that I’ve finally gotten off my ass and started to do things other than watching Netflix. I’m not superwoman yet but babysteps right? For the past two weeks, I’ve been busy with applications to clubs, planning events for the clubs I’m in currently, meeting up with friends who I don’t usually see due to inconveniences, and staying on top of my homework. My planner is so much fuller and I feel like my life is too. But with the tiny scribbles crammed in a box that marks 24 hours comes stress. I cannot go 15 minutes without going over all the tasks I have to do for the day or come up with new ones for the proceding days.

This stress has also become apparent to the whole world because a zit is slowly but surely growing on my upper lip. I thought stress zits resided on the forehead!! Why do I have one on my lip? Out of all places, you choose the one place that everyone looks at when I smile or speak. LIKE COME ON! I HAVE PLACES TO BE AND PEOPLE TO SEE!!!!

But then again, I’m happy.

Hi Zit,

No matter what you do, or how big your grow, YOU CANNOT BRING ME DOWN.

Mass and Midlife Crises

Hi friends! I’m back!

I started this blog out of boredom at my last internship, but I’ve recently realized that this blog- or just writing in general- could help me organize my thoughts and get my shit together!!!!!!!

OKAY, my title was a tad dramatic. I’m nowhere near middle-aged, and I’m not going through a crisis exactly. It’s more like a slump. I’m just at that point of my life where I feel dissatisfied with myself. The lack of energy and passion I feel when I wake up every morning is making me question my group of friends, my major, my summer plans, my goals or lack thereof… I feel like I can be doing more and can be being more. I’ve been all talk, though. For a year and a half now I’ve been talking about finding a new hobby, or working on an old one to hopefully spark some passion and to feel motivated again. I have not been making any progress.

Tonight I went to mass. I am in no way religious at all but I felt like I needed to feel some sort of tranquility to take a break from my chaotic and dissatisfied mind. The sermon really hit home. The priest said, “Every morning I rise from bed, I am saying yes to participate in the day.” Having visions is great but what we have is today. Instead of stressing about the future I should be focusing on how to make today fuller.

There are so many things I want to work on, including my confidence, my productivity, my patience… There are so many things racing through my head but I need to find a starting point. I am hoping that once I find a starting point, I will find a direction, and everything will eventually fall into place.

I am going to start by acknowledging every active decision I make to participate in life, be it smiling to a stranger, taking on a new role at school, or reading a new book, and saying “yes” more often.

Real people and puke

Happy Friday ladies and gentlemen! 

Now that I am doing an internship, I sometimes encounter very real things. Today, for an hour, I was a real person, in the real world, dealing with real things- I was at the bank. 

I have been to a bank before. I would sit outside and wait for my mother to finish her business. I have an ATM card and have used an ATM machine before. But never have I had to line up to talk to a person behind a counter to make a deposit. Standing alone in the line made me think. There are not a lot of things I do that could have serious consequences. If failed an exam, the worst that could happen is that I would have to take the course again. If I lost the money I had in my hand, the worst that could happen is that I would get fired. If I get fired, the worst that could happen is that I would not get a reference letter and I would not have anything to do all summer. But in a few years, I will be working a real job; I will be paid real money; money that I need to survive. In a few years, if I lose money that my company wants me to deposit, I would lose my real job, and lose a significant amount of money and starve and become homeless and die. OKAY, I am exaggerating, but these are still very real consequences that real people have to worry about in the real world and that is something I am not looking forward to. 

 

But since I am just a college student working as an intern on a Friday, I am going to live my life recklessly, puke my guts out, and regret it tomorrow. I hope you can do the same too.  

Donuts and Superpowers

I had a busy morning and did not get a chance to give everyone the morning update. My apologies. 

At the moment, I am back at the desk from lunch. The first hour or so after lunch is horrible because you’d just had a nice satisfying meal and you’re dosing off like a policeman that has had too many donuts. I even chugged a big cup of coffee after lunch to avoid this. Maybe I will try injecting caffeine into my body next time so it can enter my bloodstream faster. 

For a moment, I was sitting here, typing at my computer, and I think I had an out of the body experience. I had no idea what I was doing and totally forgot what my boss had just told me to do. It was a quite terrifying. My mind was like a sheet of white paper and I was questioning my purpose and even my existence. 

Anyway, I was on youtube listening to youtube famous artists. I feel like talented people are the luckiest people on earth. They spend their lives doing what they love be it singing, acting, dancing, painting, cycling, running, or playing basketball. What these people are good at, what they love, and what they do are the exact same thing. I wish I had a talent. Then I would be less confused and lost in life. 

Then again, I know some people who are pretty good at being and being with people. They are the people who can strike up good conversations with people, make people laugh, bring people together, and make people feel good about themselves. They are just talented at being them. That should be a superpower. 

You know what? I am going to quit my job and find my true passion!

 

 

JK. Gotta send out these emails and then stare at the clock until it is 6 o’clock.