In the Middle of Something New

“I know you’re not where you want to be; you’re in the middle of something new you don’t want to bring yourself to believe.” [Dan Choi]

I have a calendar hanging on a bulletin board next to my desk; it seems that we’re already nearing the end of September…wasn’t I surprised just a bit ago that it was suddenly August? The date weighs with me because it’s a reminder of how much (or how little) has changed over these past few months. My friends at Northwestern are all starting classes this week, and it does feel a little strange to be away from that world. At the same time, it feels very natural to not be there. Because I know that I’ve moved on to something new, whether or not that “new place” is comfortable to me yet.

As I mentioned in my last post, I have a lot of time for reflection these days. The extra time has its perks and disadvantages, and while I do wish there was more structure, responsibility, and activity in my life these days, I can’t help but be thankful for the moments that make me feel a little uneasy, uncomfortable, and unsure. It’s in these moments that we are pushed to think about what might actually be most important to us.

I love staying busy, but my experience of “busy” has been very different ever since college wrapped up. Nonetheless, I like that I’ve been able to think about what’s going on in my life because far too often I was caught up with assignments, obligations, time commitments, you-name-it, and among all that was a sense of just getting things done. Getting through another busy, hectic, back-to-back scheduled day. You know?

I recognize that I’m my harshest critic (aren’t we all?), yet I also know that I’d rather struggle for awhile and have a better sense of who I am, what I’m doing, where I’m going, and what I really want–than be someone who is too caught up in the everyday to think about the bigger picture, the what-beyond-today-notion. I’ve always been the type of person to “take things too seriously,” but in that respect, I’ve also always been pretty secure in my feelings and priorities. I take the time to know where I stand, and that self-awareness seems to be increasingly uncommon in an era bombarded with distractions. Schedules, jobs, life. People are too busy to process the things that pass through their lives. And of course, I still fall into that trap, but I guess my point is that there has been a lot of personal value in all these questions and uncertainties.

I seemed a bit distressed last week, somewhat burdened by everything that’s been in flux these days. Today, I found myself hopeful for how the rest of the month will pan out, or at least this upcoming week. I know these feelings come in waves, and we’ll just have to see where the tides take me.

I have faith that things are working themselves out. I have to.

A Glimpse of Summer

North Beach (Evanston, IL) // July 2009

You Can’t Avoid Mondays

I just got in from a short walk around town. I had a few errands to run and a frozen bubble tea from Joy Yee’s seemed like the best accompaniment, so I walked a little out of the way to get one. On my walk back, I realized that I have a tendency to craft letters in my head. Or maybe just different writing projects? I play with the words in my mind, moving them around as if they were blocks on a table; in some order they would best convey how I was feeling or what I wanted to say. Sometimes I revise one sentence, over and over again.

As I sat down to start this post, I realized that I’ve been avoiding this update. I have struggled to craft these words in my head, perhaps a little worried of how it would feel to read it all.

Over the past week, my mind has been clouded with thoughts, questions, ideas, hopes, anxieties, concerns, and moments of sadness.

Last Monday, Northwestern University lost a vibrant member of its community; Corrie Lazar was a Weinberg senior, and I was lucky to have known her from the American Studies Program. The program is pretty small, and even though I wasn’t close to Corrie, I did know her; we were in the same major, I saw her at events, and I even hung out with her some during our trip to D.C. And I spent the week recalling her laugh, her smile, and her warmth–she had so much ahead of her, and all I could think when I heard the news was, “Wow, she had so much more living to do…” The news sat with me for a couple days before I finally felt the deep sadness of it all. As many have mentioned, though, she was a very positive person. And we will probably never understand why tragic things happen, but we have to take these experiences as steps to gaining a deeper understanding and appreciation for our lives and the people in our lives.

I regret that I didn’t know Corrie better because as one of my friends said, once a person leaves, there’s just no chance of running into them on the street. No possibility of revisiting that connection, you know? That reality sits with me.

I remember being so tired on the Washington, D.C. trip. We had just gotten off the bus, and we had some free time to walk around a mall before our group dinner. I didn’t really care about walking around, so I found a comfy chair at a nearby Starbucks and just rested. If I remember correctly, Professor Beisel (one of the faculty members on the trip) sat in a chair across from me. My friend Meaghan was also there, and Corrie, too. We just sat, rested, and Corrie and Professor Beisel briefly chatted about an assignment that was due after the trip (Corrie was taking one of Prof. Beisel’s classes that quarter; she was told she could have some more time before she had to turn it in–it was an unexpected yet nice break). The memory is faint and seems all too common and ordinary.

When we were all sitting on the bus, I remember Corrie talking to a bunch of people about the meaning of “dating” in college. People chimed in with their own opinions, and it was just one of those things that was interesting enough to help pass the time. You could tell Corrie had some spunk, an opinionated and spirited person. The kind of person that makes you stop and think twice.

I kept running these memories in my head all week. And as I felt a weight in my throat about the entire situation, I couldn’t help but step back and reflect on my life. The news of Corrie’s death was a sobering reminder that life is precious–and it can be swept up in half a second.

My life has felt in flux these days, and I know my recent posts have rummaged through my different feelings about this stage, this seemingly ambivalent and unresolved phase of my life. I understand that I can’t anticipate what the next few months will be like, but I also can’t ignore my feelings of dissatisfaction. Today? Today, I feel deflated. Deflated about my future employment prospects, my relationships with people, my place in life at this moment in time.

We are constantly experiencing change, so I realize that’s not new; it’s the rate and frequency of that change–and it’s been alarming. I know that I have so many things to be grateful for and as I reflect on Corrie’s death, I am trying to grapple on to the things that really sustain a person.

I am thankful for getting through four challenging yet enriching years at Northwestern. I am thankful for the amazing, incredible, and loving friends I have met in that time. I am thankful for the friends who I have stayed close to over these years apart. And I am thankful for my family and their constant patience and support.

I will be packing up and leaving Evanston in about three weeks. I will be the first to admit that I have so many reasons for leaving and being excited about my move to North Carolina, but I hate goodbyes–and I will shift and feel the unease of saying goodbye to some of my favorite people; it will leave me with a mix of emotions because I’m tearing up thinking about it now. I am not the same person I was when I first got to Northwestern, but I am grateful to the amazing people who have helped me through these years, ups and downs and all. Gracie, Fran, Angela and Parv–I will miss you so much. And as my parents have said, you are always welcome in our home :)

I know that saying goodbye to these people and this place is not an end; it my be an end to this chapter of my life, but it’s just another step closer to getting where I need to be, and I recognize that reality; we’re all growing up. I have three weeks to spend time with my favorite people, and then, the world.

Please think of Corrie, her family, her friends, and the many people in the Northwestern community who are grieving the loss of such a vibrant young lady. Always let the people in your life know how you feel about them, and live boldly for each day, my friends.

In a flash, it could all change.