She's a Maniac

A good friend of mine posted this quote today on her status: "To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it." -- Osho (As posted by Kim D.!)

The air's cold, and my eyes are drooping. My alarm has just gone off and I remember that I have set it for 4:30am in order to complete a goal, one that is supposed to remind me about taking time for myself. I shake out the eye boogies, throw on some deoderant, pull my hair back, and I'm ready to complete my mission...but why and what mission?

After a long and great conversation with a friend, I was reminded that we many times don't take enough time for ourselves. We don't just sit and enjoy company; we don't just have a piece of chocolate and cringe over how good it tastes, and we don't just take a second to relax. We begin to care too much what others think and we begin to just lose ourselves while trying to be what someone else wants us to be. We give, and then we give even more, and then sometimes we don't get to take--even when we deserve that break--even when we deserver a second, or a minute, or an hour to just breathe.

Just like the world--we never stop moving. We go from one project to another forgetting that if we don't take the time we need to relax, we will never find the time we need to be happy. And in those moments--those brief moments that we have to ourselves, we are reminded that the world's not such a complex place...and that things aren't so difficult. Sometimes it's the small things that make us happiest--like mom's apple turnovers or a good song...or...a good dance. So that's what I did this morning: I woke up to the cold air, with drooping eyes, at the sound of my obnoxious alarm-and I got off the floor-and into my kicks- and out onto the track of Astoria Park--and DANCED. I danced to lose myself. i danced to find myself. I danced to start my day: I danced to dance. So here's a thought: take a second--take a minute--take a week--take an hour--take as long as you need--and just DANCE it out. I promise you'll feel so much better...And hey you may even inspire a stranger to join too.

P.S. If i seem tired the first time I talk to the camera...I WAS! ha. But it was the best WAKE UP EVER

Idiot's Guide to Being a Superhero

About a week ago, i wrote about how my dream occupation is: Superhero. Here is a fun "superhero" video.



To watch the infamous "My Jeans Video" of which the extra clip at the end mocks... Click Here

"Behind this heart, there's 1,000 hearts that keep me on track"

The most intimate concerts often take place in low-lit, hole-in-the-wall bars where you can literally reach out and touch the artist from the furthest point in the bar. These are the types of concerts where you get nervous to take a photo, because you believe that the flash you set off will blind the artist as well as the entire crowd that has squished together. It’s the kind of show where you can stab a line here and there back and forth with the artist—making it feel as though you have created a friendship—a relationship—an affair, for the brief forty-five minute set.

But I’ve found something even better: The kind of show where you sit down with the artist one-on-one, where he or she plays every song that he or she has ever written, and offers you a story behind each one. This is the type of show where you don’t even take photos because you feel such a personal connection between the artist and yourself. You realize quickly that a picture wouldn’t capture the moment as well as the exchange of words, and it’s the type of show where you truly feel like the only person in the room…because…well you are.

And that’s the experience that I had recently, when I got to sit down with friend, singer, and songwriter Paul Knakk, who breaks the standard “1 in 10 songs is a hit” rule and creates an abundance of music that would have overtaken the once highly rated TRL every day. Paul Knakk is a gem.

Never have I had the opportunity to truly sit down with someone and talk about their work—their creative niche—their passion, while watching them really engage in that talent that they have. It truly is a rare and exhilarating moment to see someone smile while they are doing what they love.

Paul and I attended the same high school, but I didn’t really know him until recently. A year younger than me, we never had the same classes, and we didn’t share groups of friends. I had known who he was because of pictures he had posted from when everyone was in middle school, pictures that many people got a really great laugh about when originally posted. About a year ago, Paul and I became Facebook friends, probably because one of us saw that the other had many mutual friends and we went to the same school. Soon after, I learned that Paul was pursuing music. I checked out his videos, his notes, and took the time to listen—and I really enjoyed it.

Unable to make it to one of Paul’s shows in the last year, I formed a friendship with him always discussing the music and what he had planned next. He went on to try out for American Idol this past year where he met many contacts and formed connections that will truly help his music career. The more he talked about his music—his recent show—and the fact that he was going to get a brand new amazing guitar—the more I knew that I had to hear him play live.

So the other day I finally took the opportunity to sit in on a private concert, where Paul played every song he has ever written. Two guitars, two locations, and three and a half hours later, I now knew Paul better than I had known many people that I have been acquainted with for many years. Paul’s music gives sound to his life experiences while also allowing you to connect and feel like the words have been written just for you, like Paul wanted to tell not only his story, but yours too. At most points, during my private show, I had wished that I had a pencil and paper because his lyrics drove thoughts and inspired ideas of my own. His music—his stories—they gave me chills.

Paul’s story is an amazing one that highlights most people’s experiences in adjusting to a world filled with love, hate, and jealousy. What else is amazing about Paul and his musical endeavors? He has self-taught himself, putting together his delicate words with outstanding notes. I would have guessed Paul had been playing for years…but was surprised to learn that he has only really been writing and playing for a year and a half. As Paul and I agreed, there’s nothing that other artists have—that he doesn’t.

Not everyone has the guts to go for their dreams and not everyone has the will to fight for their passions. But after leaving Paul’s house, I realized how important it is that we recognize our talents and the talents of others. Many nights we sit around and fight to find something to do. Should we go get drinks? What about a movie? How about one night where we just sit around with a close friend and experience what makes them happiest...where we just fully experience them. The lights don’t have to be dim, the location doesn’t have to be a hole-in-the-wall, the cameras don’t have to be in hand, and the conversation doesn’t have to be simple…even if it’s a simple night. This is the best kind of concert—this is the best type of night.

For more information on Paul Knakk, I suggest friending him Paulie or by joining his Facebook Group. Once becoming friends with Paul, you can check out his beautiful lyrics in his notes and watch videos of him playing. His YouTube page is currently undergoing maintenance, but you can bet that once it is back up, the volume on his site is going to soar. And at shows…well the girls will be chasing him down, of that I can guarantee. I’m lucky to know and be friends with such a talented musician.

Occupation: Superhero

At my pre school graduation every single one of us was asked to tell the audience composed of parents, brothers, sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and family friends what we planned to be when we grew up. The answers ranged from firefighters to doctors to lawyers to dentists. Why our pre-k teachers were asking us what we wanted to be when we were barely old enough to pronounce three syllable words really is beyond me, but nonetheless, I responded by saying I wanted to be the first female president. If I had known what that meant, when I was just a four year old, I probably would have said “Anything but the president.”

And if it were four years ago, I may have said “I want to be a sports broadcaster,” but now I know exactly what I want to be, and that is a superhero. I want to be able to save the world one great cause at a time. I want to impact someone who then in turn impacts someone else, which thus results in a continuous line of impact.

I want to provide the world with a kaleidoscope of viewpoints. I want to make a change.

I think part of me first realized this when a teacher once told me that I was going to change the world. This was soon after learning that my college field hockey program had been cut from the University of Rhode Island. At that point in my life, I had completely believed that sports were the only thing that mattered and that if sports didn’t exist then well, nothing else did either.

The other part of me realized how much I wanted to make a difference in the world when I was exchanging emails with a newly acquainted pen pal on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Instead of defining myself to him as an athlete or field hockey player, I told him that I was a writer and a traveler and that I had hoped to learn of new things of the places I was traveling, with his help, since he had traveled before as well. I wanted to learn more about the world so I could impact the world as it was impacting me.

In the last nine months, I have lived in New York City, wishing that I could help every homeless person to a piece of bread, and every child without an education to a simple math problem. I have lent my hand to people by opening the door for them even when they walked away without saying thank you, and I have given up my seat to strangers following a long day at work. I have made an effort to save the world one small task at a time, and at the end of the day I have felt both wonderful and inspired because of it. Since coming to New York, I have been changed. I may not have a full-time career just yet, but I know that putting the word superhero next to occupation is beginning to look more and more like the full-time job that I would like to take on.

And to be honest, while sports scores interest me on a “brain candy” level (as my tenth grade English teacher might refer to it)…saving the world just seems much more appealing.

Eighty Years CANNOT be Enough

I discovered today that the average lifespan of a person is between 80 and 100 years. This actually saddens me. EIGHTY YEARS? I have already lived 1/4th of that?! And lived is an overstatement, because I spent much of that time worrying about the little things like--grades or how many calories were in a chocolate bar...or what to wear. I spent too much time WORRYING and not living.

A lot of people tell me that I am only 22 years old and that I have so much time left to discover all the wonderful things that this world has to offer. But then I get concerned that I am ALREADY 22. There is no way that I had enough time to color enough coloring books, trace enough drawings, or eat enough sugar before I realized how bad sugar was. So my new goal, with my move to Italy closing in, is to learn how to enjoy even the most simple things like a coloring book I didn't finish when I was younger, or a pack of smarties --or a rainbow after a rainy day.




Eighty years is not enough time to discover the other side of the rainbow without seeing the rest of the world. But it's worth giving it a try.

What makes us human

Coming from a boy, sitting behind a desk, in a middle school classroom, I could hear the response to a question my teacher had just posed: "Didn't a plane crash into them or something?"

Our history teacher had just asked us if we knew what the twin towers were. As 8th graders, we all knew what they were, but we never really knew the magic of them or what daily events went on there.

In the minutes following the news from our teacher that the twin towers had been under attack, our principal at the time, got on the PA system and asked that all teachers turn off their televisions and computers. On a day when mass chaos filled the streets of where I now live, I had never felt so disconnected.

At the time, I couldn't understand the hugeness of what was going on, but I did feel lost and angry that I didn't have the chance. My field hockey practice got canceled after school, and I went home with my then best friend where we began to get some more explanations from her mom. Words like "terrorism" and "war" were thrown out in the open, and for the first time in my life I heard the name "Osama Bin Laden."

That day was so surreal as I remember being able to see a faint bit of smoke from my kitchen window in the direction of where Flight 93 had crashed in Pennsylvania. Nine years later, I have a much better understanding on a day that now has a permanent place in history books.

This day has sparked debate, discussion, and many more questions in the last years as man people have chosen to look deeper into what cause the 9-11 incident.

While nothing seems clear about the attacks themselves, still, one thing has been very clear, and that is how it has affected each and every person differently.

Whether it is my story, or the one I posted months ago from my colleage (Story) , everyone's story is different.

On Thursday, as I read through the new Jorge and Laura Posada book, I was thrown a curve ball. Suddenly I was not only reading about the struggle of their son's illness, but now I was reading about Laura's 9-11 experience, in which her son was downtown at a hospital and she was uptown at home trying to get some rest. But as news came of the twin towers, she went into panic mode, and rushed out the door in the direction of the twin towers. She described the moment in great detail and it became clear that nothing else mattered at that moment to her than her baby boy.

As tears filled my eyes during my four train ride from the Bronx back into Manhattan, I realized how intensely emotions and experiences differed for people that day. And with 9-11 now upon us, today, for the 9th year since the attacks, I can only imagine that the feelings of loss and sadness running high.

The history books may dwell on concrete facts, but it is the stories that make it all real--the feelings--the thoughts--the hopes. It is these things that make that day. It is these things that make us human.

We will always remember.

Outsourced

Outsourced

With the economic crisis, it is very rare to walk through Manhattan, tell people that your degree is in communication with a focus on journalism, and then be told that you have chosen the perfect career path and that many jobs are opening up. The awful truth is that journalism is on its death bed, undergoing an agonizing execution in which it is kept breathing only because companies are willing to hire on the cheap. This either means that companies are hiring very few people to do many, many tasks at decent proficiency, rather than many talented crew members who can bring a wealth of knowledge in a variety of areas—or that companies are outsourcing.

According to USA Today, in 2008, MediaNews Group CEO Dean Singleton suggested that “papers should explore outsourcing in nearly every aspect of their operations.”

Well if news outlets are going to be outsourcing… then I have made an executive decision for myself…I am going to outsource myself. So with that, I bid adieu to New York City, to the United States, and I embark, in two months, on a trip to Italy in which I hope to first excel in a four week course that will grant me the certificate which makes me completely marketable as a teacher in Italy and to second: find a placement in Rome, the city that I considered to be my home for three months in 2008.

Things aren’t going to be easy. In fact, finding a placement may be very difficult seeing as the EU rules are very strict about who can and cannot work in Italy. However, life is not easy now: for instance, my apartment isn’t perfect—and I am not sure it will ever be a perfect apartment…I sleep on the floor, a dog sleeps in the kitchen next to me which makes my fan blow lovely dog scents my way each night, and the living space outside my room is small. In addition, I currently am unemployed—call it a casualty of the economy and recession, or just call it plain crappy. So leaving uneasy—to go to well…possibly more uneasy isn’t really scaring me away just yet. I am reminded by my peers and people I look up to that I am young and that this is the time to take chances and see the world, even if it doesn’t work out the way I planned. A good friend even noted not to worry that “America will always take me back.”

But with outsourcing my services and self to another country, I hope that I am able to make future contacts and employment opportunities past my hopeful year of employment as an English teacher. Seeing as I did not go to school to teach and how I am the oddball female of the family (My mother and sister are both English teachers…sheesh), it is my full determination to find a job internationally related to communications and media. So while America may always take me back—I am not sure coming back is what I hope to do.

The results of all this is that I may not live on more than a low income for many years of my life and I may not live in a big old mansion overlooking Lake Eerie or Lake Michigan, but I will be dedicating my life to living out what I want to do…in the places I want to do it. It’s time to make mistakes, and be happy with those mistakes…and with that I say: Bon Voyage.