Nostolgia/Anticipation

So it's vacation time. A time to rest. A time to sound off in peace. A time to not think about the mundane, trivial, every-day sagas which seem to outline my life. Its a time to wake up late, watch terrible reality television and read mindless books. A time to just be.

And a time to reflect.

It's great-this vacation. Today, I spent the day feeling nostolgic. So I did it. I went and visited old familiar-what was once the mundane, banality of my existence-my old workplaces.

I started off at State Farm. The job I got sophomore year of college which I lasted in for a year. And what a year it was. New beginnings, my first real office job with responsibility, a boss, deadlines, to be on time and of course co-workers. I was the youngest and most bright-eyed but careful employee that office saw, and I loved it. Because they liked me. They appreciated me. They wanted to me stay there. And a year flew by. I took morning and evening classes so I could work there during the busy times. I learned how to be punctual, that mistakes were in human nature and learned the value of having a real job.

And bonuses.

After my stroll down memory lane, I kept driving and eventually reached Sony. A place I called home for three years. The place where I received my first full time offer and the place which made me realize that numbers, as much as I hated them, were my friends. I would travel every day in college and every day when I graduated to this place called Sony. 3 years. A ton of new directors and the occasional mishap, but soon enough I realized that this isnt what I was meant to do forever. This wasn't what fueled my fire, where my passion lay. This wasn't me.

And so I left. Well they gave me the option and I chose NYC.

And well you know the rest.

So now I reflect. As I drove down those streets, passed the same trees, milestones, old brick buildings, new mansions, I thought about what I wanted back then. I thought about what measure I used to mind success and I thought about where I thought I'd be.

And this wasn't it.

3 years ago I wanted to move to NYC (check), get a Masters degree (check), meet the man of my dreams (no check), live in an awesome apartment (check), live the city life (check), travel (check, check). Three years ago the things I wanted were what would have made me happiest. And of the list, the vast majority I received.

But what of happiness?

I have to say, if those were the things that were to make me happy, I was pretty damn right.

Because I am. Very much so. Happy.

I never thought I'd end up staying at NYU. I never thought I'd meet the people I ended up meeting, travel to the places I ended up visiting, arguing the facts which I now believe, drinking the teas which back then didn't exist. I never could have dreamed up this life. Although the road I took was so similar to what I thought, it turned out very different than what I imagined.

That's the things about dreams, sometimes they are meant to just stay there, in your memory.
Because what makes life worth living is-well living it. It'll never turn out how you imagined, but if you always keep, in the back of your mind, the scent of the trees and the bright eyes which

started you on this journey, life will turn out better. And the next time I'm nostolgic, I'll realize that it's not the suffering or the memories which you miss, its the ability to dream. And as I always say, "Anticipation is the purest form of pleasure"

Here's to today and living a life, which in three years, I'll be nostolgic for.

The Works

Every year since I can remember, I've celebrated the birth of America. Granted, for years I lived outside of this country but in the summer we'd make it back for the scorching hot summers where we'd thirst for lemonade, baked cookies and playing space ship in the Knickerbocker house. Those were the summers - the summer vacations which seemed to take months, years to pass. When every single day, every memory became etched into our minds as a memory of a blissful time.

There was the time when P.S. 13 burned down across the street on Getty Ave. We rushed to the corner deli with our quarters and dimes to buy some candy cigarettes and fooled our naive parents. There was the time when we went to a neighbors house to watch the snake - and oh what a snake that was - eat the little mouse. We were fascinated.

We'd watch scary movies like the Exorcist and make lame drinks with spices and fool our other cousins. We'd have birthday parties, dinner parties, tea parties, all sorts of soirees to celebrate the endless summer nights. We'd fight with our grandmother when she babysat us and stormed out of the house in a mid summer night's rain to prove that we were right. It was about who ate the last piece of cake.

And then the fourth would roll around. We'd play with sparklers in the backyard or go for a drive through the hills and usually stop on highways and catch displays at all angles. We'd celebrate in a way that only first generation children do- with equal pride and confusion- trying to decide what significance this Independence Day held for any of us.

But those were the memorable summers, long before the bitterness. Long before the anger, long before the relationships which will never live again. Memories live on in pieces in our minds. As happy times, of a sunny childhood in which every night's sky was always lit up by works of color, of theme and of independence.

The truth is, we all still live in self-made prisons.

"Emancipate yourself from mental slavery. Only you can free yourself." -Marley

Happy 4th America.