Lately, I've been thinking a lot about "broadening my horizons." I have always been one to think I know exactly what I want to do, and exactly what class will land me that internship, which internship will land me what job, etc. But after enlightening conversations with two people who influence me beyond belief, I'm realizing that is the furthest thing from true. The truth is-- I have a lot of interests. Lots of passions. Lots of things I want to accomplish.
Debating was the first activity I can honestly say I was passionate about. As nerdy as it was, in high school, I anxiously awaited 7th period (this was when I usually got out early for competitions) like it was recess. Nothing compares to that feeling when you pulled up to a competition at a neighboring high school. That feeling when you weren't sure if you would rather puke or jump for joy that your shining moment (hopefully) is near. Whether I won the round or lost, I would obsess over my notes and brainstorm what I should have said. There is just something about successfully, meticulously proving a point, whether it be for the "W" or a person.
This first passion of mine, I can't seem to shake. At the moment, I am still not sure how I will encompass this in my future career, but franky, I am not worried about it. As long as I keep my options open, the universe will work as it wills.
As G told me, "Don't narrow your horizons until a door shuts in your face." ... or something like that.
TICKETS, PLEASE
Tuesday, July 23
Saturday, January 12
Home, Sweet Home?
What is it about our home that we love to hate and hate to love?
Today, I returned to college from a long, needed winter break. Scrolling through my numerous social media sites, I noticed something. Friends who have not yet gone back to school saying things like, "Take me back to school please" or "I need to get out of my house, I'm so bored." Yet, people who have been at school for just a week saying, "Not ready for this semester, take me back home, please." Seems as though we can never find a balance between the desire for newness, adventure and the comfort of home.
Monotony and boredom. While we hate those aspects of returning to the places we grew up, in reality, there is much we appreciate about our homes. The familiar faces, the way you know at exactly 7:19 AM the old Indian man will pass by your house on his daily morning walk as you are leaving for school, the smells that spark vivid memories, passing by locations and remembering an event that happened there. Knowing an area like the back of your hand is so meaningful. The thought of a person never feeling connected to an area in this way always makes me sad. There is truly nowhere like home.
Just something I've been thinking about. Can a perfect equilibrium ever be achieved?
Today, I returned to college from a long, needed winter break. Scrolling through my numerous social media sites, I noticed something. Friends who have not yet gone back to school saying things like, "Take me back to school please" or "I need to get out of my house, I'm so bored." Yet, people who have been at school for just a week saying, "Not ready for this semester, take me back home, please." Seems as though we can never find a balance between the desire for newness, adventure and the comfort of home.
Monotony and boredom. While we hate those aspects of returning to the places we grew up, in reality, there is much we appreciate about our homes. The familiar faces, the way you know at exactly 7:19 AM the old Indian man will pass by your house on his daily morning walk as you are leaving for school, the smells that spark vivid memories, passing by locations and remembering an event that happened there. Knowing an area like the back of your hand is so meaningful. The thought of a person never feeling connected to an area in this way always makes me sad. There is truly nowhere like home.
Just something I've been thinking about. Can a perfect equilibrium ever be achieved?
Monday, January 7
Opa!
2. People are not staring at me because I'm black. "Have they never seen someone with dark skin before?!" is a question I continuously asked myself during my first few days in Greece. "Self-conscious" is a word that described how I felt when eyes, like little daggers, always seemed on me. But after a few days of feeling uneasy, I realized something. The locals stare at everyone, not just at me. Greek people are rumored to be curious. If they like the way you look, they stare, if they don't like the way you look, they stare, if you seem interesting, they stare. It is nothing personal.
Rain and lanterns on a backstreet |
My favorite place in Athens thus far- Plaka |
NYE Party in Athens |
Beautiful view from the Acropolis |
Welcome
I am no newbie to the blog world. At this point, I am nervous to
Google search my name as I might come across the embarrassments that
were my previous blogs as a silly, naive pre-teen. Now at 19-years-old,
but surely still a bit naive, I know what I want to express in this new,
lasting blog. This is “Tickets, Please”.
“Tickets, Please”. A phrase heard so often, so often over-looked. Whether embarking on Flight 633 to Athens, stepping onto the Acela en route to New York Penn Station, walking through the stoic doors of a theater on Broadway, or preparing to see the new art exhibit at the Philadelphia Art Museum, “Tickets, please,” is what you will hear. The common theme in this phrase, regardless of the location of you hear it, is that you don’t know what is coming next. The ensuing few hours, days, or weeks are a complete mystery. How will you feel? What will you see? What will you do/hear/learn/think/observe/taste? Sure, you might have some pre-conceived notions and expectations, but nothing is guaranteed. The only thing known is that an adventure is beginning. What is in store for you is unknown, but whatever happens is for a reason and molds you into a wiser being. That is the kind of adventure life is about. That is what I aspire this blog will be for myself and my readers— a series of adventures. So, tickets, please.
“Tickets, Please”. A phrase heard so often, so often over-looked. Whether embarking on Flight 633 to Athens, stepping onto the Acela en route to New York Penn Station, walking through the stoic doors of a theater on Broadway, or preparing to see the new art exhibit at the Philadelphia Art Museum, “Tickets, please,” is what you will hear. The common theme in this phrase, regardless of the location of you hear it, is that you don’t know what is coming next. The ensuing few hours, days, or weeks are a complete mystery. How will you feel? What will you see? What will you do/hear/learn/think/observe/taste? Sure, you might have some pre-conceived notions and expectations, but nothing is guaranteed. The only thing known is that an adventure is beginning. What is in store for you is unknown, but whatever happens is for a reason and molds you into a wiser being. That is the kind of adventure life is about. That is what I aspire this blog will be for myself and my readers— a series of adventures. So, tickets, please.
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