Doing Nothing Alone

My phone has picked up the annoying habit of spontaneously shutting off for no reason at all and refusing to turn back on again. When this happened in the middle of my lunch break yesterday as I was making plans for later that night, I had a minor panic attack resulting in a hurried trip over to the mall to track down a Telus store that would allow me to charge it up quickly. By the time the sales associate there grasped the concept that I did not want to purchase either a new charger, a new battery, or a new phone, my poor little guy only got about three and a half minutes in the "recharge center" before I had to rip him off life support and run back to work. This meant, unfortunately, that he didn't make it, leaving me disconnected from the world for the rest of the afternoon.

Of course, my initial plan was that I would rush straight home after work to get my phone plugged in and charged up so that I could commence communication with those people who had been so rudely interrupted and subsequently ignored due to my phone's malfunctioning. But over the course of an afternoon in which I did not find myself repeatedly grasping for my phone, giving and receiving constant updates, I started to feel a little more relaxed about being disconnected.. And I had a brilliant thought. What if my day didn't revolve around texts and plans and expectations? What if I just gave my phone a little time off, and did whatever I wanted to do, all alone? The sun outside added to the appeal of this novel idea, and so I decided that I would not, in fact, sprint home the second I got off work, but instead would wander aimlessly and easily wherever I felt like going.

Me being me, I happened to have a book, a Starbucks card, and a PB&J sandwich in my purse, and that's all I really need for a date with myself. I spent the evening downtown, wandering in and out of stores, reading and tanning at a park on the water, and exploring the city I've always loved but am still getting to know. I didn't talk to anybody; I never even checked the time. And I noticed on my way home after several hours on my own that not only was I meandering at half the speed I normally walk at, but also I had been standing at an intersection for about five minutes and had never pressed the button that I usually incessantly push in my frantic hurry to get to wherever I'm going.

Alone time doing nothing (without a phone!) left me relaxed and gave me time to think through those thoughts that everyday life blocks out. It forced me to enjoy my own company and to make myself happy. It de-cluttered a brain that is often overflowing with lists and plans, allowing me to focus purely on the present moment. It was a much needed break from a hectic life that is often concerned with balancing schedules and accommodating others. Alone time doing nothing made me focus on myself, right now, which is something I rarely do, but is something that is very necessary.

But, it was able to be so positive because, even though I was alone, I never felt lonely. I knew that once my phone sputtered back to life I'd be thrown back in the midst of family and friends who, although they may keep me glued to my screen a lot of the time, they also keep my life full and happy. So, even though I enjoyed my afternoon date with myself, doing nothing alone, I think I may start carrying my phone charger in my purse. Because a date like that will need to be scheduled in next time; I don't know if I've grown enough to be able to handle another impromptu phone coma quite yet.

The Real World

I've had an addiction to the MTV "reality" show The Real World for the past five years or so. I watch every new season, and I've even spent some time perusing the first few seasons online.. The show started out twenty years ago as an attempt to actually portray the real world by putting six or seven twenty-somethings from all different walks of life in a house together so that the gay man with AIDS can become friends with the struggling cartoonist and the sorority girl (The Real World San Francisco, circa 1993 - my favourite season). The show has developed over the years, changing from portraying the work and relationships of smart, unique, and entertaining young adults to exposing the drama and horror of dumb and hot, but just as entertaining, individuals. Nevertheless, the show has remained a constant guilty pleasure in my life. There's something about the illusion of reality that makes disgusting television feel less pathetic.

When I was in school, The Real World was a weekly hour-long study break during which I could feel my mind melting and shutting down as I watched drunken catfights between half-dressed crazies unfold before my glazed over eyes. It was a welcome relief to embrace the mindlessness of ultimate stupidity. Now that I am no longer a full time student, the hour I spent every week for the past two months watching The Real World Portland can't be justified so easily. Not only is the necessity of sixty solid minutes of not thinking slowly fading, but also my entrance into the real world makes the act of watching The Real World all the more disheartening.

Everybody always warns that the real world isn't as magical as imagined by us youngsters, but that doesn't stop most people from jumping at it as soon as possible. I was never like that; I was never itching to be done with school so that I could take on the responsibilities of an adult. I was genuinely satisfied with the trials and tribulations of student life, and even though I definitely had more than my fair share of stressful moments, I always knew that I was lucky to be a student in the first place and I was content right where I was. I was pulled and pushed into the real world against my will, but now that I'm here I'm finding myself to be quite content once again.

My real world now consists of balancing two jobs and enduring that annoying ache at the back of your mind labelled "financial stress" that never really goes away. And it involves having to deal with all the little day to day things by myself when they would be a much smaller deal if endured alongside a parent or partner. But it is also defined by independence, freedom, and adventure. I have a home that is only mine, I have easy jobs that are fun and that I actually enjoy going to, and I am busy purely because I want to be. I have had many moments of daunting loneliness and uncertainty, but ultimately, I have yet to discover the horrors of the real world that were supposedly awaiting me. I go to work to pay my bills, and other than that I do whatever I want to do.

Now when people ask me what I am, I can't tell them I'm a student anymore. So my answer has become "a recent graduate who is going back to school asap" because, as much as I'm enjoying the real world, I can't do this forever. I am a perpetual student, and am itching to crawl back to the pale-faced, sleep-deprived, red-eyed world of reading and writing all day every day. The real world is a fun place to be for now, but I think I am much better suited as a student who emerges from her textbooks every so often to enjoy being a spectator of The Real World.

For now though, I have another year and two months of the real world spread out before me, and the only thing to do is run at it full on, grasping those moments not taken up by lectures and libraries, and making my world as exciting as it can be. It's time to live in the moment and do whatever I want. I may have to put The Real World on hold for a bit, but it will be there waiting for me when I return to my true self.

Running

I love to run!

My love of running has developed slowly but surely over the past several years. I first learned that I could run when I was in grade eight. For PE we all had to run six laps of the track, and having never run more than about two laps before - due to my insistence that, if anything, I was a sprinter (which most definitely was not the case) - I had no idea what was going to happen. I ended up finishing second in my class, after a girl whose legs were the length of my body, and suddenly I was a 'long-distance runner'. (Nevermind the fact that 2.4 kilometers hardly qualifies as 'long-distance'.) Due to the unfortunate coincidence that my PE teacher at the time was also my track coach, I spent the rest of high school running cross-country races in the Fall and 800, 1500, and 3000 meter races at track events in the Spring. I did a decent job, but I hated it, and preferred to put my time and energy into school and dance. It didn't help that I was forced against my will - even in those seasons when I refused to go to practices, the coach still insisted that I go to the meets. I would never run on my own time either, but then would find myself lined up at a start line amidst a bunch of other fourteen year old girls in their weird track cleats and intricate braids. I was not happy. So high school was the start of my relationship with running - but it was a rocky start. I was starting to get to know it, but really didn't like it.

In university, I had to start working out of my own accord. There were no more dance classes, field hockey practices, or soccer games to keep me in shape by accident, and I needed to stay active. The gym was good for some things, but what I really wanted was to be outside. And so I started running voluntarily. I had no idea how fast or how far I was running, but I'd work up a sweat and feel good about myself. I still found running to be pretty boring, but at least it had a purpose for me this time. It was keeping me in shape. So running developed from something I despised to something I found useful. It kept my legs toned and my cardio in check, and I got some fresh air and sun along the way. I still didn't love running, but I was beginning to value it.

Last year, I decided I wanted to run a half-marathon. That goal came out of the blue, driven by my competitive spirit when a few girls I knew told me that they would be running the 21.1 kilometers around Vancouver in August. I signed up completely on a whim, and drew up my own sad little training plan based around my LSAT study guide. I spent all of April-July alternating between LSAT practice questions and long runs up and down hills in the summer sun. Training for that half marathon was an interesting revolution in my relationship with running. Unlike high school, I'd chosen voluntarily to run a race. And unlike the previous couple years, the goal wasn't to simply stay in shape and get a work out. However, I still wasn't really loving running. I was doing this to compete, pure and simple. But I wasn't even doing it for myself, I was doing it for my boyfriend. I didn't want to, or need to, show off to him, but I wanted to show off for him. I was always bragging about him to my family and friends and I wanted him to have something to be proud of me for. I thought that maybe running could be that thing. I ended up running a pretty good race considering my complete lack of experience, and  it worked: we were both proud of me. Yet my relationship with running remained stagnant. It had served its purpose, but I didn't love it.

Despite my cry when I crossed the finish line - "I am never doing that again!" - I almost immediately registered for two more half marathons for the following summer. The sense of accomplishment that overcomes your body and mind when you've pushed yourself to your limits is something that needs to be felt again once you've experienced it once. I ran regularly throughout the Fall and Winter, but didn't take it too seriously until the upcoming race was a couple months away. This time frame just happened to coincide with my life falling to pieces, and suddenly my relationship with running reached a new height. Running was one of my best friends when I was all of a sudden alone and confused and overwhelmed. To be able to go outside and run anywhere, being totally alone and allowing my mind to either think or not think as my body exhausts itself, is completely amazing, and helped me through many rough days. I was falling in love with running.

My first half marathon of the year was a couple weeks ago, and that was a big day for me. I thought I was ready to run the race, but in the day leading up to the run I was depressed. Last year, I ran it for my boyfriend, who cooked me dinner the night before and got up early to drive me to the start line, and who ran almost as much as I did that day so that he'd be able to cheer me on along the way, because I wanted him to be proud of me. Now, I was standing at the start line, alone in a crowd of 10,000 people, with nobody to run this race for. Just like the year before, my family was waiting along the route with signs and cheers to keep me going, but I still felt lost, because my purpose for running was gone. I didn't want to do it, and I must have looked pretty dejected because people I didn't know were patting me on the back and telling me, "Don't worry! You'll finish!" I wasn't worried if I could finish the run or not, I was confused. Why was I doing this?

It wasn't until about ten seconds before the race began that I finally realized I was going to have to do this for myself. I was going to run because I want to, and I enjoy it, and I can do it on my own. So that's what I did. It wasn't a pretty run - I hurt my knee after about only four kilometers and spent the rest of the race nauseous and limping - but it was still amazing. Not only did I not stop, but I actually finished faster than I did last time. I proved to myself that I can do these things on my own, and, just as importantly, I fell in love with running for the sake of running. Not as a work out, and not as a competition, but as something that I enjoy purely for the feelings it gives me.

Now, I love running. We have a great relationship. I don't run simply because it keeps me in shape. And I don't run just because I can compete. I run because it is what I love to do. It calms me down when I'm upset. It gives me energy when I'm tired. It releases tension and stress, and emphasizes excitement and purpose. It allows me to clear my head and organize my thoughts, to make plans, to let my mind wander. It keeps me company. It lets me be alone. Most of all, I love running because it is through running that I learned how much I am capable of, all on my own.

Happy Things

With my new routine (or lack thereof) that has taken hold over the past couple weeks, I've noticed that the days tend to blend together. I find myself thinking that Thursday is Tuesday and the weekend was both yesterday and tomorrow, because there's no class schedule with which I can differentiate Monday from Friday and everything in between and beyond. Because I write absolutely everything down on a calendar (yes - a piece of paper with a calendar drawn on it) that I carry around with me, I do still end up making it to all my events, appointments, and shifts. The concern isn't so much about remembering where to go, but more about creating memories to hold on to. When I can't tell myself that on Wednesday I went to two English classes then met a friend for lunch on my way to work (as I used to do every Wednesday), I find that I completely draw a blank on what Wednesday held for me, and it takes me several seconds to conjure up a memory of a day that was unstructured and out of the ordinary (as all my days are now).

My friend and I were browsing the adorable little knick-knack shops of Granville Island this afternoon, and in a stationary store we found a journal that we both loved. The front said "One Line a Day" and the inside had a space to write down one line a day for five years, with the idea that this line would sum up the best part of that day and would be a memory jog for years to come. We both thought this was a brilliant idea (we just didn't think that the price tag of $18.95 for a bunch of lined paper between two pieces of cardboard was so brilliant).

I was thinking about that little journal long after we dropped it like a hot potato and ran, and realizing that it could be the perfect solution to my current problem. Except, I want to take it up a notch. Instead of just writing one line, I'm going to write a list at the end of every day of all the good things that happened to me in the past twenty four hours. It's my little twist on a combination of "One Line a Day" and Oprah's Gratitude Journal. It can be big things or small things, and the list will definitely be longer some days than others. My one rule for myself, though, is that I'm not going to sit there thinking about it - I'm just going to jot down a quick list of all the things that have made me happy today. I feel like this will do great things for me.

So let's start right now.

What made me happy today?
1) I spent the morning replying to emails from past professors who not only want to write me reference letters for grad school but also actually asked if they could help me with my entire application to ensure I get accepted. This made me grateful because I went to such a great university, with an amazing English department that has professors who go above and beyond.
2) My friend and I spent the afternoon walking along Kits Beach to Granville Island, where we meandered aimlessly for hours before walking up to South Granville where we browsed in one of my favourite places - Chapters. This made me grateful for so many things: a wonderful friendship, an absolutely incredible city to call home, and beautiful Spring weather.
3) I started redecorating my apartment! (Sidenote - As my apartment has emptied out over the past week or so, I've become increasingly anxious. When we first moved in here, we did a massive bulk shop at Ikea, and the place was filled with all of the essentials in one day. That is just not feasible for me this time around, which made me very uneasy, until my mom pointed out to me that accumulating items one at a time is much more rewarding and satisfying than all at once. This way, I only buy pieces that I really love and that are great deals. So, today I bought a gorgeous lamp that I absolutely love, and it was on sale! Sure, I still don't have a bed...but I have a lamp that was 50% off and has tassels wrapped around the stand and a beautiful bronze shade, and that makes both me and my wallet smile.) This made me grateful for a fresh start in which I can do things for myself and by myself.
4) I went out with my mom and my sister for dinner, and we enjoyed a girls night with Mexican food and margaritas. This made me grateful for family, girl time, salsa, and tequila.

Well I can tell you all first-hand, right off the bat, that this little exercise definitely plasters on a smile and makes an awesome day one that won't easily be forgotten. Try it!

Routine

With the end of the semester comes a complete loss of routine. Add to the fact that the past month and a half not only brought me to the end of my four year university career but also carried me from living with my boyfriend to living on my own, and the change in my daily rituals becomes increasingly dramatic. My weekdays used to go a little something like the following: get up to say good bye to the boyfriend before he goes to work, go back to bed for half an hour, get up at 8:00 so I can watch Rachel Ray while eating breakfast and cleaning the kitchen, head off to two or three classes, go to work, meet the boyfriend at home, go for a work out together, come home and make dinner, watch The Sopranos, then bed. It was a pretty solid routine that had minor variations thrown in throughout the week. And I was very comfortable with it.

For the past couple weeks, my weekdays have been going a little something like this: roll off the couch (currently my bed) at whatever time the sun happens to peek through the curtains, put on a pot of coffee, forget about the coffee for over an hour as I lie back down in my makeshift bed to reply to emails and dreamily browse the Ikea website, remember the coffee and finally get up to make breakfast, eventually make it out of the house for a run, go shower before meeting a friend for a coffee date or a walk, find some lunch once I realize I'm hungry, go to work at whatever random time I've been scheduled for that day, come home and make dinner while I watch The New Adventures of Old Christine on my laptop (currently my TV), find some cheap way for my friends and I to amuse ourselves, then bed.

It's not a very solid routine. I wake up at a different time every morning and go to bed at a different time every night. My work shifts are all over the place. My running routine is inconsistent. Everything is a mess! Without any classes to schedule my day around, everything falls apart. And with nobody at home to keep me on track with eating breakfast at breakfast time and so on, my days are very unstructured. I've never not been a student before! And I've never lived completely alone before! This is way too much freedom for my liking.

There is something to be said for a flexible schedule, but I think there is much more to be said for a routine. That's just my personality - I become a little unhinged when I realize it's 9:00am and I have not yet downed my two cups of coffee and moved on to my first of eight bottles of water for the day. (Okay, maybe that's a little more obsessive than merely valuing a routine. But that's an issue to be explored another day.) Basically, I can only take so many days of this freedom. It's time for a routine again! And I figure the first of the month is the perfect time to get back into the swing of things. It will be a completely different type of routine than I've ever had before - no classes, no study time, no working around my boyfriend's work schedule or training schedule. But that's okay! It's time for a totally new routine. One that is based completely on me, myself, and I.

Tired

Well it's 1:00 in the morning and I feel exhausted from staying up late last night and then getting up early this morning to study for MY LAST EVER FINAL, and I want to go to bed, but I feel like this day would not be complete without a blog post.

Usually, I have some idea of what I'm going to say. Most often I don't know where my posts are going to end up, but I at least always know where they are going to start. That's not the case here. So I guess I'll just write something . . .

This month has been a wild ride. It's been full of mistakes, revelations, regrets, confessions, renewals, epiphanies, and promises. It's been full of moments of complete confusion and moments of complete contentment. It's been full of tears and full of smiles. It's been full of stress, sadness, guilt, hope, happiness, surprise, and love. This month has definitely been a transition month, taking me from low to high to low to high as it's carried me from overwhelmed and unsure to confident and stable. It has truly been a month of finding myself. It's been full of changing and growing and learning. And after all of it, I am ready for a fresh start.

And what better time for a fresh start? April is changing to May and Winter is changing to Spring. I just completed the last exam of my degree, and am now finally graduating! I'm moving to my own place once and for all. For the foreseeable future, I have the freedom to do whatever I want to do, and I'm pretty excited about it. The opportunity for a clean break and a fresh start doesn't come around all that often, and maybe I didn't ask for it, but I am definitely savoring it. Anything can happen now, and I'm ready to take it on.

I wish I could offer insightful reflections on these random ideas floating through my head, but my brain is fried. I guess a long day of work after an intense exam, following a grueling exam period, following the most emotionally unstable month of my life, following a demanding semester, which lies at the end of four years of constant thinking and working, can build up to quite the level of exhaustion. I'm going to go sleep, without setting an alarm for the morning (!), and maybe soon I'll be able to string a suitable sentence together.

For now, I leave you with this thought stolen from my grandma's wisdom: If you have faith in yourself, your life will always head in the direction it is meant to go. Nobody knows their destiny, so all you can do is live in the present, making the smartest choices possible and doing your best in that moment. If you do that, your life will undoubtedly unfold in whatever way will result in your greatest happiness.

(This all ties together somehow, I'm just not quite sure how right now.)

The End is Near

On the eve of my last day of classes as an undergraduate at UBC, I should be editing the term paper I have due tomorrow while gearing up for Block Party (the end of year bbq/beer garden/outdoor concert taking place tomorrow that is always a weird mixture of going all out to celebrate the last day of class while subconsciously knowing that the next morning cannot be too rough as it brings the start of a solid two and a half weeks of studying for exams). Instead, I find myself cuddled on my couch with a blanket, a G&T, and Friends playing in the background as I compose yet another blog post.

It is a strange feeling to know that tomorrow is my last day of classes. For the past four years, I have spent five days a week on campus, walking from one Buchanan room to the next where I listen to the experts who I have revered spewing all sorts of information at me as I furiously scribble notes in an effort to remember their words forever. I am not one of those students who was always dying to be done with school and is having a panic attack now that the end is near and I've realized I'll actually have to start working full time. I am one of those students who has enjoyed school from the beginning because I love learning for the sake of learning. I have genuinely appreciated every moment I've had in the classroom, and have even been grateful for those moments spent outside of the classroom, in the library and at home, toiling over papers and sweating through studying. As somebody who has studied the importance of education, and who has even travelled to places far away to witness the consequences of a lack of education first hand, I know that it is something that should never be taken for granted, and I have always been thankful for the education I've been able to receive. I have loved every minute of it, and don't really want it to end . . .

However, I think that graduating will be a great opportunity to start experiencing new ways of learning. Education doesn't always need to happen in a classroom. Work and travel can bring similar rewards. Now that UBC is forcing me out, I can take the opportunity to go learn in a variety of different avenues, and start checking some things off my bucket list. I'll miss being a student, but the absence of a label brings the freedom to be anything and go anywhere. And all the skills I learned at university will benefit me in whatever I do.

A lot of people ask me what I learned in the past four years. Sometimes this is a polite question. (So what's your favourite thing that you learned at UBC?) Sometimes this is a skeptical question. (Did you even learn anything useful at UBC?) Sometimes this is a curious question. (So what exactly did you learn at UBC?) The question always seems to be looking for a specific answer, like "I learned how responsibilities are divided between the federal and provincial governments" or "I learned how Margaret Thatcher influenced British literature in the 1980s" or "I learned the intricacies of the nuclear disarmament debate" or "I learned how to write a fifteen page research paper in three days" or "I learned the meaning of life." It's true that I did learn all these things (except maybe that last one) and so much more. But that's not what I value about my time at UBC. When people ask me any one of those questions, I tell them that I learned how to think.

The university setting is an interesting one, because you are being handed loads of information that you are forced to process, memorize, and understand, yet also criticize. Every opinion, every side to the argument, is always explored and torn apart. It is so interesting to constantly be thinking with an open and accepting mind, assuming that every answer could be the right answer, while simultaneously finding every weakness of that point and ripping it to shreds. Thinking with both an open and a critical mind is something that has to be learned. It isn't natural to want to see the best and worst of every side to the debate, and it takes time and practice to recognize that no issue is black and white, but that every argument is valid in its own right. You can pick a side, but you have to acknowledge that there will always be somebody on the opposing side, and they think you are just as wrong as you think they are. My past four years of school demonstrated to me that when it comes to thinking, I have to be both accepting yet critical of every claim, even my own, and that is what I am taking away from my university experience. It will, I hope, benefit every aspect of my life.

I have loved my time at UBC and I expect that knowing how to think productively will empower me in endeavors outside of the classroom. However, I can't get too far ahead of myself yet. I still have two classes, two papers, four exams, and one graduation ceremony to get through. Here we go . . .