Park Bench Conversations

I was having a conversation with my mother about a man who once asked her to marry him. He loved her with abandon and never stopped.

"Yes, but that's old news," she says.

"Love is never old news," I say.

This made me wonder about hope and all it has to offer. If there is nothing else in this life, at least let there be hope because without it we are directionless.

"He called to tell me he was moving out of the country. He told me if I asked him to stay, he would," she says.

"Excuse me," I say, at a loss for words.

I pressed for more information and received the complete story which goes something like this. He was in love. She was in like. They parted. He never moved on.

Everyone knew he was the right one for her, but there was someone else, someone who seemingly offered all the right things. She loved. He left. They split. And somewhere along the way, she lost hope.

"Must be nice to still have that," I say. That referring to the long-standing adoration.

"Of course, everyone appreciates being loved a certain way," she says.

I searched for any semblance of gratification in her expression only to realize a sense of remorse. For the first time, I listened to a story I had heard several times and finally understood what she was trying to convey. She was teaching me to not only accept the love we think we deserve but to welcome a love that is unconditional. For that, I am forever grateful, for that is the kind of love she has for me.

Be that as it may, I am still not satisfied by the outcome of our conversation. I see my mother, and I see a distressed woman who deserves the stars on a silver platter. I have hope that one day she will receive nothing less. She, however, has lost all hope.

In all my frustration, I inadvertently tell my mother to kill herself. It was like word vomit. I felt the words rolling off my tongue, immediately regretting any utterance of such a thing. I felt as if I was attempting to jump start a car with no engine.

So I have to wonder, is hope, once gone, lost forever?

Weightless

I am back in the land of the free, yet all I feel is an uneasy feeling of nonchalance. I travel, and I feel like I know the world. I feel like I can live and breathe to my own rhythm. It's existing at its finest.  

I recently shared my future plans of backpacking, and the feedback I received was positive from everyone except from the person I needed it most. It's always a battle, leaving us more distant than the previous encounter. 

I had a conversation this week which made me realize the transition I am experiencing with the people I once considered authority figures in my life. As I age, these people feel more like my peers, and every bit of advice I receive I filter in order to apply what is applicable to my specific needs. 

I don't want to live my life for anyone but myself. I know it sounds narcissistic, but for the first time I think that is the way it should be. I want to be weightless, but how can I be gravity's assailant with any baggage? Maybe the support I need has to come from a place within myself so I can float on. 

Beautiful Strangers

Last night I went to this swanky jazz club in the heart of Madrid. There, I experienced the lyrical genius of two Spanish senoritas, the rhythmical charisma of three young tap dancers and the soul of a committed bunch of musicians performing to the tempo of their fervency. They all seemed to be doing just what they ought. I watched. I envied. They exuded happiness I couldn't understand.

There they were, a collection of talented strangers, fulfilling their purpose. Not saving the world, but exuding an aura that touched me, making me question the things I care about. I talk. And I write. Then I wonder how much I act. Here are these people leaving an imprint (on me, maybe even the world in the grand scheme of things) doing what they do, and I'm here taking notes.

I think sometimes we seek in others what we can't deliver because we yearn for the talent we wish we had, anything that says I'm great at what I do. I ask myself where this talent exists in my life, and all I see is staggering nothingness.

On a scale of one to twenty something, twenty something being mission accomplished, I'd say I'm a solid six for my ambition. This makes me wonder if I should be a little less concerned with saving the world. Maybe I just need to do me.

Love and War

I realized that my actions are not always in alignment with my intentions, and I've lost track of the things I was once certain about. All I have left is hollowing uncertainty.

It's hard to see the one person you love the most abandon their feelings for you. It always seems to boil down to now or never, but neither is an option for me right now. Why is later always out of the question? My options seem so absolute, and I guess that scares me. There is no room for hesitation.

I love a boy who is charming and witty, but I'm in love with a phantom of the past. I can't seem to give my whole heart away because I don't think it was ever returned to me. When we emotionally invest ourselves, I have to question if we are running the risk of losing ourselves. If this is the case, is this the point in our lives where we begin to rely on others to feel complete? I mean, this is cray... right?

I'm scared that I will wake up one day and realize that my heart has been distributed to past lovers with no hope of return. This makes me wonder if love ultimately leaves us bankrupt.

I think its safe to say teenaged angst never perishes but instead, escalates to love and war.

Mad World

To be frank, we live in a mad world. I say this with regard to the nation as well as its occupants. I was having a conversation with a friend that led me to the conclusion that we are surrounded by emotional instability. We are enveloped by this imbalance because it is within us all.

When we come to a pivotal point in our lives it is difficult to avoid acknowledging the inner craziness. We all try to be normal, but what does that even constitute- average? Is this what we really want, to be mediocre?

It's hard for us to realize that living puts us in a vulnerable position. We are open to injury at any given moment, but we often times forget this is what sets the madness straight. It's the insanity that gives life soul.

I remember growing up reading about extraordinary figures who changed the world. I remember thinking one day I could do that. Then I got sucked into the vacuum of normalcy. I embraced the mundane instead of embracing the martian. It's ironic how we like to follow the crowd then expect to make a difference.

Craziness is like heaven, so why fight it?

Something like this...

So my life goes something like this. I'm a twenty-something year old and seem to know very little about the future. I want to be a free bird, but this cage is all I know. Everything is up in the air floating effortlessly while I stare from below anxiously anticipating the collapse of life as I know it. Days seem to disappear, but I don't want my enthusiasm to.

I attended a networking event and felt like I was switching teams. At some point I seemed to have crossed over the invisible barrier into adulthood. Sometimes, I feel like my mindset is inconsistent with my age. Somehow, I turned into this adult with responsibilities and all these decisions to make. People ask what my plans are post graduation. My plans are to let the wind be my compass and to save the world and to live... ideally. Because this is what it's all about.

I remember being younger and wanting, more than anything, to be perfect. I remember being ruled by my insecurity and feeling of inadequacy. Now, I know perfections is boring. It isn't real. It's not me. And if I know nothing else, I need to know who I am and what my place is in this world. And that's all I ever ask for, at least right now.