Mutations (Reflections on Life)

Lessons From My Younger Self: On Looking Back in Order To Move Forward

Photo Courtesy Of Wikimedia Commons

Photo Courtesy Of Wikimedia Commons

I recently found a box of my old notebooks, writing folders, and diaries. In it, I found entries and drafts of poems that I had written ranging from when I was as young as thirteen years old to when I was a sophomore in college. I’d come across scribbles of a first draft of a poem that I’d eventually ended up performing and marvel at how much the piece had ultimately changed. I’d shudder at the clever turn of a phrase or at the intensity of my own long-forgotten or purposefully tucked away emotion and think, “I wrote that? Wow.” or “Ughhhh, why in the world did I write that?” As I looked through them, I could feel the nostalgia running through my bloodstream. It wasn’t so much nostalgia for those times, as much as it was nostalgia for the girl I used to be: creative, innovative, bold.  I realized that I miss me.

Anyone who knows the current me may be a bit confused. Maybe they would still describe me as “creative, innovative, and bold.” But it’s not the same. I’m not who I used to be. For so many years, I’ve been on this path of “achievement”: school, school again, and soon my profession. And I’ve always been on this path, but it didn’t always take up as much of me. Or maybe it used to seem more compatible with my other interests.

I recently told a fellow writer friend of mine that I admired how open she was with the readers on her blog. I told her I was always wary of what and how much to share because of all the warnings I’ve heard about professionalism and how your social media presence can affect your career. But I never really thought about the impact that my career would have on my artistry, and in turn, my identity. I’ve written before about my difficulties balancing these different areas of my life, but this year I’ve resolved to actually do something about it.

Reading through my old diaries and notebooks also showed me change that I’m satisfied with. I saw the names of people who had taken up pages and pages in my diary, people to whom I haven’t spoken in years. Some of this distance happened by choice; some of it happened with time and circumstance. My mom has always told me that “people come into your life for a reason and for a season,” and I realized that she was right. Some people who used to be fixtures in my daily life were now names in an old record, and I was okay with that.

Not everything was different though. I saw names that I’d previously written about who are still fixtures in my life, some who had previously been more supporting characters and who over time had moved into more central roles. In a diary entry from when I was 15, I reflected on how much I loved The Diary of Anne Frank (which is still one of my all-time favorite books) and how much I could relate to many of Anne’s teenage sentiments. I quoted the following line from the book as a refrain that I had felt was applicable to my own life, “They keep telling me I should talk less, mind my own business, and be more modest, but I seem doomed to failure.”

“I thought that was just me,” I had written in response.

I laughed out loud as I read that line again recently.

“Some things never change,” I thought.

I also read an entry where I complained about me reaching out to people more than they reached out to me. To this day, I’m still trying to find the right balance between reaching and the respect and reciprocity that I expect and deserve.

This free-write from my teen-something self reflects the self-assuredness (with a little creative bravado thrown in) that I was beginning to develop at that point (can you tell that the theme was writing?):

I speed past on a shiny soliloquy

Thoughts transporting me through my day so fast that all you see is punctuation

There are no periods in my world

Just commas, colons, semi-colons, exclamation points, and question marks

Syllables for speed bumps

I don’t see the signs–I make them

Then ignore them

What are traffic laws to a New Yorker?

I write the rage on the road you walk on

Radiant, radical run-ons with no end in sight

My poetic license can never be suspended

I have the write of way every day–every block’s mine

I blow my horn at inaudible decibel levels 

So you never hear me coming

But the impact’s always lethal

So don’t get hit

Cause I don’t yield to pedestrians

Wowww. Aren’t you glad I’m not a teen anymore? I am.

Much of that girl that still resonates with me. She has grown, matured, gained some finesse. This year is about figuring out how to make that girl and the young professional woman forming in my mirror compatible. As I continue to find my way through this maze called adulthood, I hope to find a way to merge the things I miss with the things I must do.

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Mutations (Reflections on Life)

Countdown: My Love/Hate Relationship with New Year’s and Change

English: New Year's Resolutions postcard

English: New Year’s Resolutions postcard (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The other day a friend of mine asked me if I had a resolution for 2013. “Not really,” I said with less enthusiasm than I guess he thought the question usually solicited.

He laughed at what he usually describes as my unrestrained inner-G. “You’re not into this whole New Year’s thing, huh?” he asked.

I realized that that’s not exactly true, so I decided to qualify my answer. “My resolution is what it always is,” I said. “To continue to strive and grow.”

It’s true that I’ve never really been very big on New Year’s resolutions.  I’m not really sure why, but I think it has something to do with what I feel is the almost compulsory need for change that I feel arises in most people, especially around this time of year. I mean, I have goals for days, and weeks, and months, and years. I like to think that I’m who Wale had in mind when he wrote “Ambitious Girl.” But I’m also somewhat of a stubborn girl too, and I like to set my personal goals on my own watch, not the calendar’s.

Here’s my other issue: I feel pretty ambivalent about some years, and I don’t mind entering a new one, but I’m not really sure that I want to see this year go! 2012 has been a great year for me. I graduated from college, started law school, freelanced, did some fundraising, made some major life decisions, etc. I’m really grateful for and proud of everything that this year has been.

Then I remind myself that I felt the same way about 2008, the year that I graduated from high school and did Brave New Voices. I wasn’t sure that any year could top that year, and I was sad to see it go. I know that technically I’m supposed to be grateful for the blessings of the past year and declare that 2013 is going to be even greater (and I am and I will), but part of me feels like, “I’m good right about now. Can we just stay here for a while longer?”

The funny thing about me is that I have this dual sense of restlessness and never-ending nostalgia. On the one hand, I’m always looking for change, for the next challenge, and on the other hand, I always feel like “aww man, I miss the old days.”

Ask anyone. During the last days of my senior year in college, everyone was tearing up and reminiscing at every turn. I was ready to go. I knew that I would miss people and that things would never be the same, but I was anxious for the next frontier. Six months later, I have the worst case of nostalgia you can imagine. I love the challenges of the new frontier, but I miss the heck out of the old one.

I’m always moving forward, but always looking back at the same time… I like to think that it’s because, for the most part, I really like my past. I love to grow, but I also like where I’ve been at each point in my life (even when I didn’t), and I want to take those pieces of my life with me, wherever I go.

I never know what to think about my somewhat contradictory (but I guess normal?) responses to change. Maybe the fact that I’m always willing to move but never quite able to move full speed ahead means that I recognize my roots for what they are: something to constantly sprout upward from and something to cherish at the same time.

So, like everyone else, I guess I have no choice but to bid a fond, yet bittersweet farewell to 2012 and wait to see what 2013 has in store…

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