Here are the rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books or stories you've read that will always stick with you. Here are mine:
Kartography
Shantaram
Jonny Got His Gun
This Lullaby
Modoc
Invisible Cities
Son of the Shadows
The Looming Tower
House of Gaian
Kushiel's Avatar
Autobiography of Malcolm X
Nineteen Minutes
Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao
Midnight's Children
The Giving Tree
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Sadly I didn't get the job in nyc but I'm going to intern with my local paper for the fall so that's pretty cool. Summer has just flown by, I'm actually looking forward to winter though, there's something comforting about winter at home...
I got my psychic reading done the other day and the woman said that I need to learn how to just focus on the next step instead of focusing on a bunch of things at once and everything should turn out alright. I hope she's right. I have to take the GREs in October, ick :(
Guess that's about it for now.
I got my psychic reading done the other day and the woman said that I need to learn how to just focus on the next step instead of focusing on a bunch of things at once and everything should turn out alright. I hope she's right. I have to take the GREs in October, ick :(
Guess that's about it for now.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
2010: the longest year ever
So my serious boyfriend from high school just got married yesterday. It's so strange to realize how fast time has gone by and how many things have changed. It's sort of like I was just a hitch in someone else's life. I guess that's really what it was, I was a bump in the road, how weird is that? It's only July and so much has happened...Jamie's passing, Chinu's marriage, my college graduation, Andrew's marriage, geeze what next? Please don't answer that anytime soon, I'd like some calm for a while.
Summer at home is going great, it's un-nerving not knowing what's next but I like home, I get to write for the paper and spend time with my family and make new friends. It's a good life and it's also exciting not knowing, I just have to remember to remember that :P
This year has held so much already, and yet it's flying by. But when I think about all that has happened, it seems like a lifetime...
Summer at home is going great, it's un-nerving not knowing what's next but I like home, I get to write for the paper and spend time with my family and make new friends. It's a good life and it's also exciting not knowing, I just have to remember to remember that :P
This year has held so much already, and yet it's flying by. But when I think about all that has happened, it seems like a lifetime...
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
I was reading back through some old emails and they made me miss Jamie even more than usual. He said we were going to be friends forever but it's hard when one of you decides to go away. He was the only person I've met that made me feel better just by being around him. He was my rock, I guess he was a lot of peoples' rock. I'm scared that I'm going to forget things, I probably already have and I want to remember every tiny detail. I just miss him.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Meant to be
I have the tendency to always want to attach a hidden meaning to people, places and events. I dig deeper and deeper only to discover that the shallow surface was all that existed in the first place and then I find myself overly disappointed. This isn't exactly the case presently. Sometimes things happen and they occur just to give you the laugh you didn't fully realize you needed. It's like fate steps in to help you when you're stuck, so that when you remember you're still in the same place you started, you accept the burden with a lighter heart. Anyway, I just wonder about all of those moments. The random times the unexpected knocks on your door and you wish it would stay longer. It seems like wishing for it makes it less likely to happen, which I know is silly but I always feel that way...I don't know...I'm rambling...I just wonder if the random moments are catalysts that are only understood later on or if they just exist to give you an extra boost? Usually I think "whatever will be will be" but sometimes, deep down, I wish I could just know what was meant to be.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Sarah Dessen's Graduation Speech
Graduation speech at School of Math and Science at UNC-Chapel Hill by one of my favorite authors: Sarah Dessen
Today is a day of great accomplishment, and you should be very, very proud of yourselves. This is a time to step back, look over the path you’ve forged behind you, and know that every step was yours alone. Congratulations.
Now, that we’ve done that, I’d like to talk to you a little bit about failure.
I know, I know. This is a school of highly intelligent students. You succeed. And while I don’t mean to tamper the joy and success of this occasion, I hope you’ll allow me to speak this subject that I, however, know quite a bit about.
I graduated from high school in 1988. Yes: 1988. That is, I recently found out, the year that most of my daughter’s babysitters were born. Whoa. But I digress. That June, I sat with the rest of my Chapel Hill High class in the Dean Smith Center, cap and gown on, and listened to speeches just as you are doing now. But unlike all of you, who I am sure are hanging on my every single word, my mind was wandering.
I kept looking around me at my classmates, many of whom were teary-eyed, clutching their ’88 keychains or tassles and other commemorative swag. I was not the greatest student in high school. Not a joiner, not an achiever, not much of anything. In fact, all I wanted to do was fly beneath the radar and then get the heck out of there, at which point I was sure my real life could finally begin. So as all around me, for weeks, my classmates had engaged in nostalgia---reminiscing, lots of group hugs, sudden friendships based solely on the fact that this shared experience was ending---I just didn’t get what the big deal was. All I could think was “Get me out of here.” I never intended to give high school another thought. Two months later, I packed up my fan and shower shoes and headed (slightly) West , to UNC-Greensboro, where I intended to be an advertising major. Life plan set, new beginning in progress.
I dropped out after two and half months.
Ouch. I know. I’m not proud, believe me. But I am honest. And the truth is, sometimes you can prepare for something, be sure it’s the right choice, and yet still wake up one day, look around you, and think, “I made a mistake.” It would be great you hadn’t, but you did. You embarked, like a ship, and you failed. Now what?
Well, at eighteen, I didn’t really know. As the child of two people with PHDs who built their lives around academia, there’s really not a lot worse than being a college dropout. I could have stayed at UNC-G, and finished anyway, sparing the shame but making myself even more miserable. Instead, I came home, embarrassed and confused and not sure what to do next. My parents, however, had an idea or two. They insisted that I enroll at UNC-Chapel Hill the next semester part-time and take some classes. I did. One was Anthropology, and the other was Creative Writing.
The first day I sat in my Intro to Fiction class, I felt completely out of place. All around me were these other freshmen, none of whom were already dropouts, that I could tell anyway. They chattered around dorms and roomates, recitations and intermurals. It had only been a handful of months since that day I’d sat at the Dean Dome and looked ahead to my future. Now, I’d gotten so off track I didn’t even know where I was.
This is failure. It’s that moment when you realize that a choice you made, or something you did, has fully changed the course of your life. But what matters even more than this truth is what you do choose to do once you know it. The tendency may be to curl up in the fetal position and wait for things to improve. But if you can somehow manage to take a breath and look around you, you might just spot another path you hadn’t seen before. It may not be easy to walk, especially the beginning. But all that really matters is that it’s there.
I’d always liked to write. I took classes in high school and loved losing myself in a story, making up a world better, or at least different, than my own. I never would have imagined doing it for a living, however, if I hadn’t ended up in that class that day. When Doris Betts, an amazing writer and incredible teacher, walked through that door, she took the seat next to mine and started talking about what it means to be a writer. Within fifteen minutes, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. It was as clear as her face before me, more clear than anything had been in a long time.
Would I have ended up in a writing class at UNC-G? Maybe. It wasn’t in my plans, though, or even on my radar. It took failing, hitting bottom, and having to pick myself back up for me to find what I consider now to be my true calling. That semester, I sat down and wrote my first college short story. It was about high school. Turns out, I wasn’t quite ready to leave it all behind me after all. In fact, nine-almost-ten novels later, I find I still have a bit to say about the subject.
Just to reassure the parents and faculty here, I want to be clear that I am not encouraging anyone to drop out of school. But I will say that my experience at UNC, where I later enrolled full time and eventually graduated with Highest Honors in Creative Writing, was one of the best of my life. The beginning wasn’t perfect, by any means, and it took me a little longer than most. But when I graduated, I again sat in another row of chairs, with my classmates around me. This time, though, I got what the big deal was.
Now that you know this, I’m sure you understand why I was nervous when I was first asked to come speak here today. I felt---and feel, honestly---wholly unqualified, a fact I assumed would be glaringly obvious the moment I opened my mouth. What can I possibly tell you that you don’t already know? Not sure of the answer, I went to my friends and family and asked what they would tell you, if they had this chance. What I received in return is, like life itself, diverse, serious, practical and hilarious. Here they are.
1. If you’re in the midst of a breakup and the other person says, “It’s not you, it’s me,” don’t believe them. It’s you.
2. Some things you can skimp on. But if you buy cheap cars, electronics or shoes, you’ll regret it.
3. Don’t pull an all nighter before anything serious, whether it be a job interview or a major exam. It doesn’t matter how smart you are. Everyone is stupid when they are exhausted.
4. Travel. You won’t regret it.
5. Pay more than the minimum payment on your credit card every month. In fact, if you can, pay cash and skip the plastic altogether.
6. Love your family despite your differences, conflicts, and quirks. More often than not, they are the only ones who will always do the same for you.
7. On a related note, spend as much time as you can with your grandparents. Nobody will ever again love you so much and so unconditionally.
8. If you want a tattoo, think about it for at least a year before you get it. And don’t get someone’s name, unless it’s one of your grandparents.
9. Keep your attention on the road when you’re driving. Let your eye be your brake. (That one’s from my dad. Thanks, Dad!)
10. If you’re planning to start a sentence with “I don’t mean to be rude, but…” or some variation of such, just don’t say anything. Really. Just don’t.
11. Treat others the way you would like to be treated. It’s been said before, but bears repeating: kindness begets kindness.
12. If you’re ever tempted to litter, do this: assume that whatever you throw down on the ground, through your entire life, will join you in a small room in the hereafter. Do you want to spend eternity with that styrofoam cup? Didn’t think so.
13. The more you work, the more you work. This one is from my friend John, who is a farmer in Chatham County. He knows about work. But I think his point might be that there’s other things in life, as well. My other favorite of John’s is this: If you want to make a millon dollars farming, start with two million. Don’t know if any of you are planning the agricultural route, but it’s good information, at any rate.
14. Involve yourself in the world around you. Volunteer, run for office, pay attention. The greater your stake, the greater your return. And for that, your children and grandchildren will thank you later.
15. In every ending, there is a beginning. In every mistake, a lesson. And so, in every moment and every one, endless potential.
So there you have it. Sage advice from not just from me, but a variety of folks, from retired professors to carpenters to organic farmers to IT workers. Maybe you’ll use it all. Maybe none. But at least, hearing it, you might learn something.
I know I did. In fact, after I’d compiled and written up this list, it occurred to me that really, this is kind of cheating. I got every one of these lessons because someone had to learn it the hard way. The real way, like I learned I was meant to be a writer. So I can stand up here and pass them along, but you’ll never really know them, just as someone can ever really know how hard you’ve worked to get here today just by hearing about it from you. You have to live it to own it. Otherwise, what’s the point?
The bottom line is, life is about learning, whether you’re in school or not. We are human. We make mistakes. But your lowest moment might also be the one where you begin to rise, and rise. So double back. Regroup. Brush yourself off, and try again. And twenty-something years from now, when you are asked to give a speech on a day like today, you’ll have more than enough for a list yourself, with each item hard-earned and worthwhile, and all your own.
Congratulations to all of you and your families.
Today is a day of great accomplishment, and you should be very, very proud of yourselves. This is a time to step back, look over the path you’ve forged behind you, and know that every step was yours alone. Congratulations.
Now, that we’ve done that, I’d like to talk to you a little bit about failure.
I know, I know. This is a school of highly intelligent students. You succeed. And while I don’t mean to tamper the joy and success of this occasion, I hope you’ll allow me to speak this subject that I, however, know quite a bit about.
I graduated from high school in 1988. Yes: 1988. That is, I recently found out, the year that most of my daughter’s babysitters were born. Whoa. But I digress. That June, I sat with the rest of my Chapel Hill High class in the Dean Smith Center, cap and gown on, and listened to speeches just as you are doing now. But unlike all of you, who I am sure are hanging on my every single word, my mind was wandering.
I kept looking around me at my classmates, many of whom were teary-eyed, clutching their ’88 keychains or tassles and other commemorative swag. I was not the greatest student in high school. Not a joiner, not an achiever, not much of anything. In fact, all I wanted to do was fly beneath the radar and then get the heck out of there, at which point I was sure my real life could finally begin. So as all around me, for weeks, my classmates had engaged in nostalgia---reminiscing, lots of group hugs, sudden friendships based solely on the fact that this shared experience was ending---I just didn’t get what the big deal was. All I could think was “Get me out of here.” I never intended to give high school another thought. Two months later, I packed up my fan and shower shoes and headed (slightly) West , to UNC-Greensboro, where I intended to be an advertising major. Life plan set, new beginning in progress.
I dropped out after two and half months.
Ouch. I know. I’m not proud, believe me. But I am honest. And the truth is, sometimes you can prepare for something, be sure it’s the right choice, and yet still wake up one day, look around you, and think, “I made a mistake.” It would be great you hadn’t, but you did. You embarked, like a ship, and you failed. Now what?
Well, at eighteen, I didn’t really know. As the child of two people with PHDs who built their lives around academia, there’s really not a lot worse than being a college dropout. I could have stayed at UNC-G, and finished anyway, sparing the shame but making myself even more miserable. Instead, I came home, embarrassed and confused and not sure what to do next. My parents, however, had an idea or two. They insisted that I enroll at UNC-Chapel Hill the next semester part-time and take some classes. I did. One was Anthropology, and the other was Creative Writing.
The first day I sat in my Intro to Fiction class, I felt completely out of place. All around me were these other freshmen, none of whom were already dropouts, that I could tell anyway. They chattered around dorms and roomates, recitations and intermurals. It had only been a handful of months since that day I’d sat at the Dean Dome and looked ahead to my future. Now, I’d gotten so off track I didn’t even know where I was.
This is failure. It’s that moment when you realize that a choice you made, or something you did, has fully changed the course of your life. But what matters even more than this truth is what you do choose to do once you know it. The tendency may be to curl up in the fetal position and wait for things to improve. But if you can somehow manage to take a breath and look around you, you might just spot another path you hadn’t seen before. It may not be easy to walk, especially the beginning. But all that really matters is that it’s there.
I’d always liked to write. I took classes in high school and loved losing myself in a story, making up a world better, or at least different, than my own. I never would have imagined doing it for a living, however, if I hadn’t ended up in that class that day. When Doris Betts, an amazing writer and incredible teacher, walked through that door, she took the seat next to mine and started talking about what it means to be a writer. Within fifteen minutes, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. It was as clear as her face before me, more clear than anything had been in a long time.
Would I have ended up in a writing class at UNC-G? Maybe. It wasn’t in my plans, though, or even on my radar. It took failing, hitting bottom, and having to pick myself back up for me to find what I consider now to be my true calling. That semester, I sat down and wrote my first college short story. It was about high school. Turns out, I wasn’t quite ready to leave it all behind me after all. In fact, nine-almost-ten novels later, I find I still have a bit to say about the subject.
Just to reassure the parents and faculty here, I want to be clear that I am not encouraging anyone to drop out of school. But I will say that my experience at UNC, where I later enrolled full time and eventually graduated with Highest Honors in Creative Writing, was one of the best of my life. The beginning wasn’t perfect, by any means, and it took me a little longer than most. But when I graduated, I again sat in another row of chairs, with my classmates around me. This time, though, I got what the big deal was.
Now that you know this, I’m sure you understand why I was nervous when I was first asked to come speak here today. I felt---and feel, honestly---wholly unqualified, a fact I assumed would be glaringly obvious the moment I opened my mouth. What can I possibly tell you that you don’t already know? Not sure of the answer, I went to my friends and family and asked what they would tell you, if they had this chance. What I received in return is, like life itself, diverse, serious, practical and hilarious. Here they are.
1. If you’re in the midst of a breakup and the other person says, “It’s not you, it’s me,” don’t believe them. It’s you.
2. Some things you can skimp on. But if you buy cheap cars, electronics or shoes, you’ll regret it.
3. Don’t pull an all nighter before anything serious, whether it be a job interview or a major exam. It doesn’t matter how smart you are. Everyone is stupid when they are exhausted.
4. Travel. You won’t regret it.
5. Pay more than the minimum payment on your credit card every month. In fact, if you can, pay cash and skip the plastic altogether.
6. Love your family despite your differences, conflicts, and quirks. More often than not, they are the only ones who will always do the same for you.
7. On a related note, spend as much time as you can with your grandparents. Nobody will ever again love you so much and so unconditionally.
8. If you want a tattoo, think about it for at least a year before you get it. And don’t get someone’s name, unless it’s one of your grandparents.
9. Keep your attention on the road when you’re driving. Let your eye be your brake. (That one’s from my dad. Thanks, Dad!)
10. If you’re planning to start a sentence with “I don’t mean to be rude, but…” or some variation of such, just don’t say anything. Really. Just don’t.
11. Treat others the way you would like to be treated. It’s been said before, but bears repeating: kindness begets kindness.
12. If you’re ever tempted to litter, do this: assume that whatever you throw down on the ground, through your entire life, will join you in a small room in the hereafter. Do you want to spend eternity with that styrofoam cup? Didn’t think so.
13. The more you work, the more you work. This one is from my friend John, who is a farmer in Chatham County. He knows about work. But I think his point might be that there’s other things in life, as well. My other favorite of John’s is this: If you want to make a millon dollars farming, start with two million. Don’t know if any of you are planning the agricultural route, but it’s good information, at any rate.
14. Involve yourself in the world around you. Volunteer, run for office, pay attention. The greater your stake, the greater your return. And for that, your children and grandchildren will thank you later.
15. In every ending, there is a beginning. In every mistake, a lesson. And so, in every moment and every one, endless potential.
So there you have it. Sage advice from not just from me, but a variety of folks, from retired professors to carpenters to organic farmers to IT workers. Maybe you’ll use it all. Maybe none. But at least, hearing it, you might learn something.
I know I did. In fact, after I’d compiled and written up this list, it occurred to me that really, this is kind of cheating. I got every one of these lessons because someone had to learn it the hard way. The real way, like I learned I was meant to be a writer. So I can stand up here and pass them along, but you’ll never really know them, just as someone can ever really know how hard you’ve worked to get here today just by hearing about it from you. You have to live it to own it. Otherwise, what’s the point?
The bottom line is, life is about learning, whether you’re in school or not. We are human. We make mistakes. But your lowest moment might also be the one where you begin to rise, and rise. So double back. Regroup. Brush yourself off, and try again. And twenty-something years from now, when you are asked to give a speech on a day like today, you’ll have more than enough for a list yourself, with each item hard-earned and worthwhile, and all your own.
Congratulations to all of you and your families.
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