Philosophical Conversations with my friends on Twitter (Vol. 1)

I was reminiscing about our very brief session of middle school drinking games on Thursday night, in which a very good friend of mine asked me why my ex and I broke up. And I sighed and I told her exactly what happened, and then I let her comment on how ridiculous it was, and then I delved a little deeper into what I think we did wrong as individuals trying to be a couple. And contrary to when I clung onto T for dear life immediately after we broke up, or when cried into the phone during all of M's lunch break, or when it felt like K was the only glue holding me together, or every single thing I blogged for the next month...it didn't hurt to talk about this. I wasn't actively suppressing any emotions. There was no choking up. I didn't want to cry; in fact, if someone had suggested that this might be too difficult for me to talk about, I would have laughed at them. And I don't think it was just because I was a little drunk.

So, thinking out loud, I tweeted:

It's weird when you're totally over a situation. Last night, [Choosing Pancakes] asked me about something that had me torn to pieces over the summer, and

I could just lay out the facts like it was something that had happened to someone else. I'm not that person who was so hurt anymore. #growth

 And she responded:

@SuchAnAfroholic In one way, that's comforting, but in another way, it worries me that everything becomes ... less meaningful?

And I replied:

I don't think I could function if everything that ever happened to me retained its original meaning throughout time and space.

Could there be "moving on"? Could I "get over it"? I feel like distancing oneself is a necessary component of development and growth.

She said:

but then that makes me feel stupid for feeling things so intensely now, like i'm exaggerating.

And that is so totally, completely, and thoroughly the opposite of how I ever want to make anyone feel that I had to try to remedy it. 

I think that feeling things intensely in the moment is incredibly important. Those kinds of rushes and losing ourselves in things are

the moments we feel most alive and like what we're experiencing matters. It's like we're artists, and those moments are when we're

painting. We get lost in the colors and the strokes and in creating this glorious thing. But when we're done and it's hanging on a

wall somewhere, we have to be able to step back and say, I could have done this differently or next time I'll do this instead. We can

still be proud of our work, but if we stay in that fever of creation forever, will we ever grow as artists? I'm dubious.

 I took a short break to confirm that my extended metaphor was working, then continued:

Then I'll say that, to the best of my understanding, most brilliant art arises out of intensity. But art is expression

in the moment, and an opportunity for communication and reflection once the moment has passed. I don't think it loses significance

from the intense-creative-expressive period to the thinking-reflection period; on the contrary, without a period in which we can view

it somewhat objectively and understand the process and plan what to do next, why would the intensity matter at all? It would be

giving and giving and giving OF ourselves without ever giving back TO ourselves.

She liked my metaphor. I do too, a lot, so I figured I'd share. Also, I would like to formally retract a statement I made when I was still anti-Twitter about 160 characters not being enough to drop knowledge. 

Obligatory 2012 post:

So I've been avoiding this post like a mothafucka, but there is no denying that my three-day graduation process begins in exactly six months, which means that it is officially 2012. 

This is probably going to be one of the biggest transition years of my life, and knowing that I'm in it now and basically the beginning of my life is over and I have to try to be an adult now is really. fucking. scary. But I suppose that if your life as a whole doesn't freak you out from time to time, you've probably settled into some routine that is, shall we say, less than stimulating. And maybe you should reconsider your decisions. 


So, without further adieu, here's a recap of what I learned in 2011:


The wonder of being reunited with a family member you've missed for 7 years. That I have the best friends in the world. The delicious joy of falling asleep in and waking up in someone's arms. That in the future I'll have to work on not letting my romantic relationships sort of overshadow the entire rest of my life. How it feels to be rejected from something academic. How to use STATA. How it feels to complete your first substantial piece of independent research. The importance of honest communication, of saying how you feel even if you're not sure how the person you're talking to will take it; silence and acquiescence lead to dangerous assumptions and general trouble. That I should not, in any arena of my life, base my actions primarily upon how I think I'm supposed to feel/think/be/act, but rather upon how I actually feel/think/am/do. To lock. my. shit. up. because Princeton is incredibly safe for people, but not so much for laptops. That I might be a little bit of a nympho. How to not be intimidated by my professors. The joys of shopping on Etsy. To do things with my hair!!! That night shifts at libraries are THE. BEST. JOBS. EVER. That, as I have assumed for years, I actually really can't handle long distance relationships. That Erykah Badu is a mind-blowingly phenomenal performer. That good intentions mean very little in the moment, but can be quite significant in the long run. That I have the best friends in the world (this is important enough to be said twice). That I can let my emotions run away with me. That I'm a pretty decent cook. That my alcohol tolerance is basically too high for drinking in the real world. How to be friends (or at the very least, quite friendly) with an ex. That I can sleep with people I'm not dating (or even interested in romantically) and still respect myself in the morning. How to be more fiscally responsible. How to make a graduation cap work with a fro. That indie Black music and world Black music are PHENOMENAL. That I like Earl Grey with honey. That my mother has cancer. To incorporate many more ways of thinking, acting, feeling, and being into my understanding of Blackness. That my generation is capable of mobilizing politically. That styling tutorials by YouTube vloggers can be fantastic. That things generally come to me frequently more when I put myself out there more actively. How to braid! How kissing a girl feels different than kissing a guy. That hair salons can do wonders for natural hair. How to eat with chopsticks. That I am capable of having real conversations with all of my siblings. How to paint my nails. That my friends from elementary/middle/high school will always be my friends, regardless of how rarely we talk/see each other.

I'm sure I could think harder and come up with more things I learned in 2011, but that list seems exhaustive enough. There were some really tough times and I will freely admit that there were days I spent in tears, but all in all, I'd say it was a good year. I feel as though I spent a lot of this year coming into myself (perhaps as a direct result of having to take myself out of the "we mentality" I'd developed), and I'm delighted with the results.

In 2012, I'm going to have to learn: how to write a thesis. How to leave Princeton, which has played a huge role in creating so much of who and what I am, and the friends I have been realer with than I have been with many people who have known me since childhood, without losing myself. How to not be sobbing in all of my graduation pictures. How to negotiate the fine details of employment in a real person full-time salaried position. How to find an apartment. How to furnish an apartment. How to get around in a new city. How to be a grown woman working in the professional world in a major city. How to keep myself busy without homework. How to make friends out of anything other than proximity.

And who knows what else I'll pick up along the way? As always, I want to continue learning from past lessons and embrace growth and not be afraid of change. I'm going to keep making it work in 2012. After all, this is going to be a big transition year for me. I refuse to stop blossoming.

Reblogged from Indie. Radiant.

 And before I go, I realize that I'm a little late, but I wish all of you joyous new years! May your strategies be effective, your plans go accordingly, and your goals/desires be realized in 2012 (and beyond)! 

         

Words to live by:

"It’s crucial to take a sense of humility into the world. By the time you make it to a top graduate school, almost all your learning has come from people who are smarter and more experienced than you: parents, teachers, bosses. But once you’ve finished at Harvard Business School or any other top academic institution, the vast majority of people you’ll interact with on a day-to-day basis may not be smarter than you. And if your attitude is that only smarter people have something to teach you, your learning opportunities will be very limited. But if you have a humble eagerness to learn something from everybody, your learning opportunities will be unlimited. Generally, you can be humble only if you feel really good about yourself—and you want to help those around you feel really good about themselves, too."-- Clayton M. Christensen, liberette Magazine

In light of yesterday's cathartic post...

Reblogged from Too Good to be True

2nd 30 Day Letter Challenge--Day 27: Letter to Someone Who Taught You Something New

Dear KO,
The breadth of this topic means I could have written to lots of people, but it just feels most accurate to write to you because of how much you've taught me since February. I recently read somewhere on the interwebz the line, "I don't want to come out of a relationship feeling like I haven't changed much," and regardless of the misalignment between the levels of seriousness with which each of us regarded this, I've certainly changed a lot. Maybe I'll expand this to include things I learned about myself via being with you, which may not be the exact same thing as you teaching me, but oh well.
I learned that if grown-ass-woman-Maya wanted someone badly enough, I could take action steps to get from Point A to Point B with said person; I hadn't been brave enough to do that since I was little just-barely-a-teenager-Maya. You taught me what it feels like to be swept off my feet. You reintroduced me to anticipation and infatuation, 12-year-old schoolgirl style: will I see him today? Is he gonna text me? What will he say? I learned to prioritize something that was bigger than just me, even if my friends thought I was crazy. I learned to dismiss my friends' opinions/advice, which I hope I have unlearned just as quickly. 
I learned a new level of happiness, a level that evidently constantly showed on my face and got commented on all the time. You helped me see that striving for independence doesn't mean I can't ask for help in moments of need. You taught me that my ex (before you) may have been right on two counts: 1) that I just might have been a nympho waiting to happen, and 2) that the best thing two people can do in bed is to wake up together. You taught me the bliss that comes from waking up happy with the arm of a man I adore slung around my ribcage in casual protection, and that there are better reasons than schoolwork to only get three hours of sleep. There were more tangible things: you taught me how to two-step, that Campus Club sells $2 milkshakes, and that the ears are a very erogenous zone (among various other lessons in physics and anatomy that we learned together). I learned new levels of physical comfort, both with myself and with another person. I learned how to stretch the tiniest events as far as they could go, a whole new version of time management.
You taught me that I was wrong about myself in so many ways: I'd always abhorred cutesy, gagged at over-the-top romance. I always told myself I never wanted anything like that, but from the moment you gave it to me, I reveled in it. You taught me that, against everything I'd ever believed, in my heart of hearts all I want is a routine of togetherness, regularly shared meals and molding myself to fit into someone else's shape night after night. I know now that you never meant to, but you taught me how to dive into love: to weigh the options upon the shore and make the conscious decision to Get. In. The. Water! [Notebook reference]. Even if the two-way street was only a very well-put-together mirage, you taught me how it feels to be in love. With you, I learned to abandon all but my most important reservation: reservedness about my reservations; I'm working on it in your absence. I wish I had learned how to tell you when I was worried; instead, I learned to put my worries on the back burner and live half in the moment and half in a larger picture my silly little heart had concocted. I learned to be carefree in a glorious but potentially dangerous way. I learned trust and security at deeper levels than ever before, in the I wanted to put all of me in a box with a bow on it and give it to you and say This is yours now, take care of it, and I remembered again what it was to want to share myself with someone completely. 
I have since learned the true value of honesty, the sting of hypocrisy, and what exactly constitutes a lie. I have learned to be more open in my questioning. I have learned that a person's intentions have no true bearing on the effects of their actions on others, and am in the process of learning which component (the intentions or the effects) hold more weight in the course of this life we live, which I should value more. I have relearned the weight of shattered expectations, along with how to hurt, how to feel like I've been fooled, how to be furious, how to doubt, how to blame, and how to over-analyze (though I'm sure I never forgot that last one).
Most recently, I am learning to enjoy the memories of the past for what they were when they were, and to not try to tear them apart by applying later feelings. I am learning to stomp out dread with determination. I am learning to reprioritize myself. I am learning to forgive. 
It seems only appropriate to end with my our girl India:

"I'm only human
Let's shake free this gravity of resentment
And fly high, and fly high
You're only human
Let's shake free this gravity of judgment
And fly high on the wings of forgiveness

I've searched for romance
Flowers and affection
What I found is a lesson
Of what love really is
Found the game of love is
Not about how much you can take
In fact authentic love is about
How much you can give

...

And I wanna let you know how much you changed my life
I wanna let you know you taught me how to fly
And I wrote this song to tell you this
I'm better cuz you taught me how to give"

--India.Arie, "Wings of Forgiveness" 

Maya

2nd 30 Day Letter Challenge: Day 14--Letter to Your Favorite City

Dear Chicago,

I have to be honest, I was worried about meeting you. Before I left I wondered who I had become, how I could agree to spend so much time with you before I even knew you. I'd had bad experiences with cities before and didn't think I could grow to be that kind of girl. I'll admit it, I used to discriminate against cities; I talked shit about y'all all the time.
And then I met you...and for the first two weeks or so, I hated you. I was scared and I was lonely and I thought all my stereotypes about places like you were coming true. Then I stopped being a little bitch and decided to get out of my comfort zone of home and work, even if that meant exploring by myself, which was a RADICAL concept at the time. 
And a few weeks later, you had totally and completely enchanted me. Suddenly I was using Google Maps to take a series of trains and buses like you were my turf, exploring your countless festivals and street fairs and museums on free days. I went to your parks and swam in your lake--which, btw, totally revolutionized everything I thought of lakes as being--and made a bucket list I didn't come close to finishing. You gave me friendships like I'd never had before, showed me what happens when you play along with random somewhat sketchy guys you meet in public places, taught me to be entirely comfortable with public transportation (who knew you could like standing on the subway? It reminds me of what I imagine surfing would feel like...), gave me my first club experience, got me to experience art, and taught me to be less afraid of the dark. KO told me once about his "DC-face," a serious look he had to put on to ride the train to work in that city, and I guess you inspired something similar in me, Chicago: you taught me to look uncertainty in the face bravely. You taught me to make short-term plans and act on them. You taught me how not to look lost and how to understand North, South, East, and West finally. You taught me to be okay doing things by myself, which is invaluable. You also gave me the second experience of my life in which I was surrounded entirely by strangers and had to make friends. You introduced me to artisan jewelers, Arts Districts, FARMERS MARKETS, and taught me to make earrings and bracelets and to belly dance and to salsa and opened me to the fact that naturals had a real-world community off the internet. You gave me free concerts and strange pizza and Greek, Indian, and African foods for the first time. Oh and brie! You gave me a rich mentor who had a part-time apartment bigger than my house in NJ, along with my first country club experience and a VIP pass to visit the Natural History museum after-hours. You made me stop giving a shit about rain. You introduced me to BLACK schools with black teachers and staff, a concept that blew my mind. You got me to talk to high school kids without feeling totally awkward. You gave me my first real-world work experiences. For the first time in my life, I felt totally independent, and I will always treasure you for that.  You made me feel GROWN.
I can't wait to see you again, Chicago. I was so jealous when KO got to visit you. Perks of living in corn-country, I suppose. We will meet again. Maybe for grad school if I can build up a tolerance for snow...

Affectionately,

Maya

PS: Don't tell New Brunswick, but it just can't compare to you. 
PPS: Oh, how I wish I had been 21 when we were together... 

INSANE WHIRLWIND OF EMOTIONS cannot begin to accurately describe the past two days.

Extreme sadness. Hurt. Fury that almost scared me. Fear separately. Deep confusion, or maybe simply a profound lack of understanding.



All of those feelings are done now. Well I'm still sad that it's over, because I wanted to snuggle into this and stay there for a long while, but I feel nothing like the overwhelming _________ I was feeling. I feel surprisingly good right now. I feel like nothing was as bad as I'd thought/imagined/suspected/worried/feared. I am not a bad judge of character, and I would like to come out and publicly say to all of you who know me in real life and know the other person involved in this situation--he is not the villain here. This situation doesn't have a villain. It has two good people who made some bad choices and that's it. #theoppositeofpubliclyflaming


I'm not gonna list out all the terrible things that have been running through my head. They don't need mentioning, as they're all either flat out wrong, unwarranted, invalid, or have been deconstructed to the point of my being content. It may have felt at first like the world was ending, but up is still up, down is still down, and I don't think anything permanently damaging happened here. 



I have, however, learned a lot. And the things I have learned can be listed:

1.  It is entirely impossible to undervalue honesty, especially when you know the truth is going to hurt. 
2. Wanting to mean something is entirely different from meaning it. Changing your definition of something so that you can mean it isn't being honest either. 
3. Relationships are based on a lot of assumptions. It's probably a good idea to talk about things rather than assuming you're on the same page about X issue.
4. It actually shocks me that these words are about to come out of my mouth, but maybe it really is the thought that counts. Intentions mean something, even when they lead down unpredictable and hurtful paths. Sometimes people deserve the benefit of the doubt even in the most unfortunate situations.
5. Anger is actually an essential part of the healing process. 
6. My friends are awesome. But I already knew that.
7. Pain does not automatically negate all the previous joy a situation gave. Hurt does not erase prior happiness. I'm not saying "don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened," because I think that crying is a healthy part of LIFE in general, and it's important to be unabashedly sad when something makes you sad...but when it's all said and done, everything good that happened still happened. And that's what you should focus on. 
8. Your world should always be bigger than one person. I think I forgot that mine was for a little while until the support came rushing in from every direction while I was freaking out and I remembered that I have a whole network of people who love and care about me. 
9. Love is a nuanced, nuanced thing. It has so many layers and components and meanings and strivings. It varies from person to person and situation to situation. There are lots of things that love is. There are also lots of things that love isn't. And I'm still learning the differences, I think. Maybe we all are. 
10. Don't underestimate the benefits that can come from actually talking to someone who hurt you, instead of just festering in your own emotions. Every story has two sides. 
11. Analysis of every tiny detail of a situation is pointless and futile. Analysis of what major mistakes were made and what should have been done differently in those specific instances is an opportunity for growth that should not be overlooked. 
12. It is evidently possible for me to open up to my father under times of complete and total duress. It is also evidently impossible for my mother to let me open up to her during such times. This is unsurprising. Maybe I should be less freely open with my mother and talk to my dad more. 
13. I have no regrets. None. I might even want to change everything I've ever believed about exes and want to try to be friends. And on that note, I will pick a song:

And I'd choose you again...