Fear

I have a magnet on the edge of my mirror that my mom bought for me.  It says “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams”.

For most of us, me included, I say…easier said then done.

Recently a colleague brought in an admissions paper that her 14 year old daughter had written.  Her daughter decided that she wanted to apply for summer program at NYC, application deadline…the following day.  So her and her mother scrambled to get all the paperwork filled out, and then her daughter set to the task of writing the admissions letter (remember those days?).  The next day, before fed-exing off the app, she showed us what her daughter had written.  I was flummoxed.  How was it possible that at 14, this girl was so eloquent with her words, so wise with her message and so poised with her composition.  What she wrote was in a word, beautiful.  Needless to say, NYC took one look at that paper and called her the very next day with an acceptance.  More so then her astonishing writing ability, what I found most admirable was her confidence to just apply.  She saw something she wanted to do, and she just went for it.  There was no weighing of pros and cons, no dithering, no what ifs, no fear.

As an adult, I find that pride has a way of getting involved. I see pride creep up in so many people in so many occasions and it is pride that usually stops progress in its tracks. Specifically, I find that it’s either too much pride, or the potential loss of pride that acts as the brakes.  Too proud to admit fault, too proud to make a fool of oneself, too afraid to try for fear of failure.

How many quotes have we come across encouraging mankind to swallow that fear and to

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams”

or

“Shoot for the moon…even if you miss you’ll land amongst the stars”

or that

“Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail”.

In my humble opinion, the answer for conquering that persistent fear of failure is not a barrage of quotes and maxims.  It isn’t even confidence.  It is that childish naivety where there is no such thing as failure.  You want it?  Just do it.

I guess Nike had it right all along.

Love

I watched someone realize they were in love.  It was the most amazing thing.  He was a few drinks into the evening, so inhibitions were at a minimum.  He was on the subject of his girlfriend and as nosey girls we poked and prodded him on their relationship. 

“She’s pretty, it must be her looks”

“She’s super clever, it must be her brains”

“She’s talented, it must be her abilities”

“Yes” he said, “it is all of those things”.  He paused for a moment, and the words released from his mouth as quick as they came to his thoughts “But, it’s more that when I’m with her…I want to protect her.  I don’t want anything bad to ever happen to her.”

Love is an emotion that I have yet to experience.  Let me be clear, I love my family, I love my friends, but the act of being In Love…well it has escaped me thus far.

I once got into a heated debate about weddings.  My good friend finds that weddings are superfluous…an institution and a “God-damn waste of money” in her words.  But me, I’m a sucker for weddings.  It’s all about love, and celebrating love.  I think as someone who has never actually experienced the emotion, I’m a junkie for witnessing that declaration of love.  It’s almost as if it’s validating its existence.

Watching that guy process his thoughts to where the conclusion was that, indeed, he was in love, falls under that same category…a validation that it exists, and a beautiful event to witness.  

I’m sure I will never see this person again, but I wish for him that he and his girlfriend have a long lasting relationship.  And I hope he will always remember what he said to us that semi-drunken night. 

 

Mistake

We all know that feeling.  It’s the sinking feeling in the pit of our stomachs…so fierce it feels like  your lungs and your stomach are doing a do-see-do.  It’s the physical manifestation when we realize that we just made a stupid mistake and we’re about to have to answer for it.  (sigh)….mistakes.  Some so tiny and insignificant you only need to brush it under the carpet.  Others, bigger and essentially limitless in its consequences.

Yesterday, while reaching for a pack of gum in my pantry, I knocked over a Costco sized box of Kosher salt.  It tipped over and salt began to cascade from the top shelf all the way down to the ground making sure to bless every nook and cranny, tin can lid, apron pocket, dry goods basket and storage bins with its salty goodness.

Great.  Friggin frick frick frick.  If only you could turn back the clock 1 second.  That’s all you’d need.  1 second.

A family member just made a mistake as well.  However his had heavier consequences.  It involved an un-maned flame.  In the end the fire didn’t touch much in their house, so the only damage was water and smoke.  But the fire department, the neighbors, the family were all involved.  I’m sure he wished for that 1 second.

In Florida a brush fire freakishly collided with a rolling fog directly over a highway.  This made visibility about as clear as pea-soup.  As quick as the fog became dense, car after car, truck after truck started to pile-up and in the end, 10 people tragically lost their lives. There’s a lot of talk on the news about what or who caused the brush fire.  I can’t help but think….is there someone out there wishing for that 1 second.

All mistakes come from the same place.  The momentary flash of carelessness.  Actually, carelessness is too harsh a word….I think it’s more like the naive faith that nothing will go wrong.

But sometimes things do go wrong for us.  We make a mistake, cause an accident. And really, there is no excuse.  Nor is there a way to reclaim that 1 second.  So what do you do but own up to it, tell your stomach to stop dancing and start picking up the pieces.  And hopefully, you will be surrounded by people who have all made a mistake in their lives, and will stand by your side, and help sweep up those pesky grains of salt.

Vicarious

I miss London.  I miss it a lot.  I look for any show/movie/radio program that can transport me back to a city that still holds my heart, if only for a moment.  Last week, famed celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain, notorious for his rock-n-roll-chef personality (drink, smokes, tats included) hit London for his show The Layover.  Personally, I am an Anthony Bourdain fan.  Yes, his formulaic episodes of touching down in a city, appearing as if always in need of the hair of the dog, handing out snarky commentary as he lopes around a city in search of good food and drink is predictable.  But nevertheless, I feel like I trust his taste, trust his decisions, trust that his search for finding the heartbeat of a city is sincere.

Because of this episode I was able to revisit Bar Italia, the very place that started me drinking coffee.  Prior to tasting their gloriously creamy cappuccinos, I was a tea only girl. I was able to go to Bethnal Green.  Home to so many good friends and cherished memories and Gourmet San’s.  I took a trip down the thames on the commuter train.  The very same that took me to Greenwich to my friend E’s house party for her birthday, E’s house party for…can’t quite remember what we were celebrating, and E’s house party for…uuuhhhh…well, another one E’s incredible house parties.  I was in Knightsbridge, where I spent about 70 percent of my time in London (for a job that brought me a lot of happy times), I was on the London Eye, I was strolling through Hyde Park.

Moving from a place that you weren’t yet ready to leave is hard.  London was home, and I had a family there.  I’m grateful for the moments that can take me back.  Thanks Tony!

http://www.travelchannel.com/tv-shows/the-layover/photos/the-layover-london-pictures

Quiet

My view of the Pacific Northwest ice storm

We lost power the other day.  Jack Frost blew his icy breath and the world stood still.  The last time we lost power in our neighborhood we didn’t it get it back for 5 days, so who knew how long it would take for us to regain power this time.

I surprised myself by not being fussed about being completely unplugged for the day.  In fact, I quite enjoyed the quiet and stillness of my home.  I’m a background noise kind of a girl.  There is ALWAYS something switched on…a T.V., a radio, my computer.  But that day the ice and snow put a blanket over everything and the sound was so quiet it almost hummed.

I had fun that day.  Neighbors who we had never met knocked on our door to make sure we knew how to operate our electric fire place with a battery.  2 bottles of wine and 2 hours later we were saying see-you-soon to some new friends.

We are not the most emergency-ready family.  You think we would have picked up a few tips from all that time living in Utah surrounded by our well-prepared mormon friends, but no.  We will not be ready for the apocalypse.  Just sayin.  However, we managed to find 2 flashlights and a whole bunch of candles so all was not lost.

In the evening we read by candlelight.  I felt transported.  I was looking forward to getting ready to go to sleep with the flickering amber flame illuminating my way up the stairs and into bed.  But at 9, we were switched back on.  The hum of the quiet turned into the whirr of electricity surging its way around the house.

I’ve never really been an outdoorsy kind of a girl, but now I think I can see the appeal of going camping.  Escaping to the quiet.

 

start

I know that I have a significant fault that is rooted in my making.  This fault is not so simply labled…not like “being negative”, or “being smelly”, or “being selfish” (all traits that some out there might consider as qualities…but for the sake of this blog just go with me).  I guess if I had to stick a label on my particular fault, I would call it the “why start now when I’ve waited so long” trait.  Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue that one, does it?

When I first moved the UK my local supermarket was Sainsbury’s.  Sainsbury’s asked me if I wanted to join their loyalty plan and start collecting Nectar points.  Well it just wasn’t the right time to take the 3 extra minutes to fill out the form.  A few weeks later another cheerful employee asked me if I wanted to start collecting Nectar points, and again…things to do, people to see…not the right time.  A year went by and for the umpteenth time I was asked if I wanted to sign up for the loyalty card and by then, my “W.S.N.W.I.W.S.L.” trait started to rear its ugly head.  The distorted thought process is that since I have already missed out on an entire years worth of Nectar points, why start now?  5 years later and I am well aware that because of my “W.S.N.W.I.W.S.L.” trait, I have probably lost out on almost £80 of free money to spend at Sainsburys or any of their affiliates.  Far from a life changing amount, but tell me you wouldn’t be happy if someone just gave you £80!

As I I am rapidly approaching my 30s, there are a few things that begin to come into perspective.  Now I am not saying that at almost 30 (attention on the word ‘almost’) I am wise, and sage and all knowing…I just have a better ability to review certain aspects of my own life and where my decisions have led me.  For example, I would say to my 26 year old self, “Alicja, you nit-wit.  Fill out the stupid form and start collecting those Nectar points because even though you lost out on a year, you can start now.  Some is better then none”.

Writing a blog has been delayed because of W.S.N.W.I.W.S.L.  But thankfully, the lesson of the Nectar Points is fresh in my mind.  It’s likely that most of you reading this cannot empathize with this silly character flaw.  However, I see it in action quite often.  People putting things off because essentially “why start now?”.  And it isn’t to be confused with laziness, and it isn’t to be confused with apathy.  It is what it is. I get it.

If you’re negative, you can try to be positive.  If you’re smelly you can shower.  If you’re selfish you can be more benevolent.  Well I’ve put a label on it, a clumsy one but a label nonetheless.  So here I go.