Write

I've got a friend who said I should write.  And it's that kind of cosmic thing where you just listen.  I've been unhealthy and I know it.  Jumping out of cars, packing bags in a frenzy pretending to leave my new home.  There's nothing sane about it.  And yet, I'm overcome by the overwhelming need to protect myself.  There's nothing more scary than knowing that the person you've chosen hasn't chosen you.

For my whole life, I've been afraid of someone cheating on me.  My fear would manifest in the form of my accusing my partner of committing physical betrayal.  But that's not the only kind of cheating one can do.  Cheating is simply when you have the option of choosing your partner and you choose something else.  Maybe you'll blame it on something that's easy to use as rationalization.  You didn't have reception, how could you possibly check in?  You deserve this because your partner hasn't been the best lately.  Whatever you use to rationalize your lack of caring, the bottom line is the same.  You chose something else over your partner.  And that showed you didn't care.

Choose me first, choose me first.  Maybe it's silly.  But then -- how can I choose you when you don't choose me?

Today I'm going to cringe when he touches me.

Because some things you just don't recover from.

Jet-Settled

I was walking to Darling Coffee today, which has more or less become my office (have you TRIED the focaccia?) and I realized I haven't blogged in a while.

I've been thinking about what it means to be settled.  When I thought about my trajectory this fall, I realized I would hardly be in New York straight without traveling.  That threatened me initially because I thought that such a schedule would prevent me from settling in.  But I think I was mistaken. I have settled into New York again, in the ways that I park at this coffee shop, walk half a mile through my neighborhood to window shop and get Burger King, run with my hair down through the bustling canvas that is midtown and share the city existence with my friends.  New York is mine as it always was and in many ways it's traveling that makes me realize that even more.

As many of you know, I work as a hedge fund manager for True Contrarian.  I also run my own fashion business, AK Kerani.  Both of these things do not require going into a formal office and it's up to me to determine my work schedule, as long as I'm completing a large amount of tasks.  The way I see it, I have both flexibility and security - two things that normally do not go together.  My lifestyle is begging me to travel and take advantage of this miracle combination.  It's begging me to uproot myself and go on adventures because I can.  I work from my phone or from my laptop.  As long as my destinations of choice have wifi and a vibrant place to park, I can be anywhere and I should be anywhere.

I told myself recently that my 20s should be messy.  Perhaps they should be, but not in the way I was thinking.  I want to be in love.  I want to have a plan and concrete goals for which I can carefully save up.  I guess what messy means now is more of an attitude.  I can be all over the place, contrarian and confident in decisions that seem shaky without answering to anyone.  I don't have to apologize for the seemingly reckless investments I make.  I can jet set the world and be proud of it.  Because somehow, by following the rocky threads of my life and diving into their contours no matter where they come from, I have become someone of whom I am proud.  Somehow, though to others I might look like I'm flailing, I have it together.  I can't apologize for the way I live my life because all it has brought me is greatness and I don't want that to change.

If "settled" means moving around causing a riot, than that's what it means to me.  To me, "settled" means writing a story, a story that's meaningful.  I may not be completely settled in any one place.  Maybe I never fully will be.  But I am settled within myself and that inner balance is something that can travel with me wherever I go.

The Virtual Life - Le Pain

I've actually never come to Le Pain Quotidien to work.  I didn't even know it wifi or that people work here.  All of my involvements here have been lunch, dinner or coffee dates.  Usually I'm more of a dive shop type girl, but there is something to be said about working to my own choice of music on headphones with a nicer than usual cider in hand.

What I find about my working at coffee shops is that things that took two weeks to get done at home get done in a matter of minutes.  I don't have a particular diagnosis for why that is.  I have the same access to materials at home.  Maybe it's just that I don't want people in coffee shops to creep on what Netflix show I'm watching and therefore avoid television altogether.

That's not to say I don't have distractions.  There's been a lot on my mind today - things that people have said to me in the past that randomly emerged from my subconscious on the subway, my desire to forgo drinking for a few days, how annoyingly fun and necessary it is to have crushes in the fall...

Well let's start with things people have said to me.  It's actually one specific thing.  And I was on the subway when I remembered.  About a year ago - last fall - somebody I cared about told me that I had screwed (not exactly language but bear with me) him up.  I had forgotten about that.  But I guess God felt it was time that I remember.  Of course, that's feedback nobody wants to hear.  It's jarring and it feels like a slap in the face, especially coming from someone whom I really wanted to help and who I feel like I did.  The thing is though, it is a bit of a relief to remember.  The reason for that is that if someone really believes that you screwed them up, they are the type of person who is incapable of taking responsibility for their own actions and that's someone who will always find a reason to blame you over and over again.  I don't have the power to screw anyone up or the ability to hold the weight of that statement.  Sure, my actions do have the power to positively or negatively affect someone, but in the context of a longwinded, complicated relationship, anyone's actions would naturally do both throughout.  As much as I understand why I blocked said statement out of my memory, I do believe that I can handle it now.  If I had the power to really screw someone up, I'd also have the power to save them.  Turns out, I have neither.

As for forgoing drinking for an undetermined amount of time, that's mainly because I've been getting sick the day after a big night out.  However, it's a good cleanse in general and a good reminder not to be too reliant on anything.  Drinking is fun, but it's nice to know that I don't have to - that I can still see friends, be social and be happy while sipping diet coke.  Plus, as a side benefit, I start craving sweets more!

And as for fall crushes, you're pretty out of line if you think I'm going to tell you.  :P

The Virtual Life - Darling Coffee

Foccacia at Darling Coffee

Hi Everyone,

I must say, I do think the virtual life is the dream.  Think about it:  securing interviews while lying in bed, the sound of new indie music or Netlfix playing in the background, the ability to meet whoever whenever and perhaps most important to me, the ability to work out in the mornings and never put a cap on my evenings.  It's the dream.  And I have no complaint.

Still, every world has obstacles to navigate.  My main one is not even how I am going to meet people. Being involved in the fashion, music and financial industries all at once, that tends to happen through the glorious internet and being in the luscious hub that is NYC.  It's more - how do I feel like I'm in the swing of things? How do I feel like my life is in motion?  My cozy, artsy room in Washington Heights is a perfect place for inspiration.  But nothing compares to being out on the town with fellow New Yorkers - watching them converse, type, rush into and rush out of their obligations...

Basically, each coffee shop in New York City is a microcosm of the world.

Early this morning, I decided that I would get up and try out a coffee shop near where I live. It's called Darling Coffee and I remember it from the one time I rushed in for breakfast before my cousin's fifth grade graduation.  I fell in love with the pictures on Yelp and of course the fact that it has unlimited free wifi.

The way the shop is set up is that there are several communal tables where computers are "allowed." There are smaller tables where computers aren't,  I guess to dissuade people like me from chilling all day.  Olivia and I settled at one of the larger tables and quickly realized that two other young people about our age were deep in the job search.  When it became obvious that we were listening in, the introduction was quite easy.  It is my belief that no one is really a stranger in NYC.  Whatever people say about us, that we are cold and unfriendly, it's simply not true.  Finding common ground is easy when you're in the same space with the same goals and the same plight.

Gangsta Mo told me that I should blog about all the coffee shops I go to.  It was the idea that made my day.  I'm already getting grounded in the virtual world.  What I'm lacking is grounding in the "real world" - the world of NYC that I belong to.  Writing about the coffee shops I visit not only makes me present in this world but also inspires me to get out and explore.  I'm working but I'm also enhancing my knowledge of the city I love and hopefully building my network along the way.

The virtual life is a dream.  A multi-faceted, laptop lugging, wooden-tabled, coffee roasting dream.

http://www.darlingcoffeenyc.com

Blogging =

Blog = emotional.  That's what I've always thought.  That's what I've always done.  But I'm different now.  I'm older.  And my thoughts aren't as dispensable.  It's not that I've grown secretive.  I've just learned that not all of my deepest feelings must be shared.  There's a timing to everything, and I've learned to appreciate the beauty of selective disclosure.

Blogging = introspective.  Definitely true.  But being introspective can be uncomfortable.  Do we always want to know the deepest contours of our thoughts?  And if we do, can we always accept them? Finding something to write about means finding something true, raw and relatable.  It has to be something that is therapeutic and yet controversial enough to spark conversation and more importantly, thought.

Blogging = novel.  The things we say have to be new enough to surprise people and keep them engaged, but they also have to make sense in the context of people's lives.  When people read, they want to feel as if they as readers are understood by the writer.  The key is not saying something nobody has heard before - it's saying something that people have often pondered and encouraging them to view it in a new way.

Honestly, it's hard for me to blog nowadays, not because I don't enjoy it but because I have changed so much since I last did it.  The memories I have that are associated with blogging take refuge in a very different person.  I'm no longer that person.  I don't wake up in the morning assuming that everyone wants to hear what I have to say.  I wake up assuming that the right people either care or will care soon in the future.  My pictured audience is narrower and the amount I'm willing to share about myself and my personal feelings has vastly decreased.  Over time, by starting up this blog again, I hope I learn to navigate these changes and apply them in a way that works for me.  I'm sure I can.  I just think it will take a while.

Blogging = worth it.  Just like I believe everyone should see a therapist at some point,  I believe everyone should blog.  Blogging is a way of processing your thoughts and sharing that process with others.  It's a public extension of what we do every day.  It's a tangible representation of the human existence.  We all try to make sense of the world.  Most of us try in different way from each other, but the pursuit of understanding is something we all have in common.  That's something that's meant to be cherished and shared.

One time, I opened someone's blog and saw that they had written, "I hope you enjoy this blog.  If you have any questions or feedback, please don't hesitate to let me know."  At the time, I thought that was cute, endearing and even slightly juvenile.  The person I was then hardly ever asked for feedback and advice.  Though I claimed to be writing for others, it's clear to me now that I was writing for myself.  I intend for it now to be a balance.  What I'm writing should be therapeutic to me and enlightening, at best, for others.

If you're reading this, I hope that you do care what I have to say.  It may not be what you want to hear at first.  It may never be what you want to hear.  But at least it will be the truth and at least I won't be ashamed to share it with you.

In Love and In Life,
DK

Closer

I felt like my 14-year-old self in my 22-year-old body.  There was no difference between.  I was fast. I was strong.  I was happy and free.  I moved at will like a spirit bigger than myself.  I had forgotten what it felt like to feel so powerful.

From when I was six years old to 16, I was an ice skater.  My mom would wake me up at 5 am on Wednesdays and Fridays to go to the rink before middle school.  Tuesdays and Wednesdays again, I went at night.  And Sunday, I went in the later morning.  It was a huge part of my life.  It taught me to be coordinated and graceful.  It taught me to draw power from within.  It taught me to pay attention to detail and to be resilient.  And it taught me to enjoy the cold.

I quit when I was a sophomore in high school because I wanted to focus on music, because I was too busy to go with the added emphasis on academics, but mainly because going once a week after years of going five times was too much of a letdown.  It was like being reminded of withdrawal symptoms consistently without being able to fully withdraw and move on.  I was in limbo, in purgatory.  I was afraid to let go, but more afraid to keep participating while seeing my skills slowly wane and wane till I had nothing.  I quit and I didn't look back.  I couldn't watch the Olympics because I missed it too much.  I visited the rink one time - the rink that had been my home for so many years - the rink I had stayed at after hours when my mom was at school.  It was my space and I remembered how it felt to be graceful, at home in my own body, and the rush I felt when I would win.

But it's not always about "winning" now is it?  It's about feeling joyous and powerful in the moment. It's about feeling free and happy and having hope that even now, feeling somewhat broken, that you'll once again be whole.  It's about detaching from all the times you've sold yourself to darker things and lost bit by bit your identity and instead feeling innocent, pure and light.  Because those moments are the ones that make up your life.  Those are the moments you think of when everything feels heavy.  Those are the moments that remind you why you can and should stay present - that even when surrounded by a complicated world, you can be occasionally simple.

It's not about winning.  It's about becoming closer.

Frodo asks at the end of LOTR, "How do you pick up the threads of an old life?  How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back?  There are some things that time cannot mend.  Some hurts that go too deep...that have taken hold."  And I often wonder about this.  I often wish I hadn't experienced so much.  It all felt so important at the time, but experiences take from you as much as they give and often I worry I won't get that energy, motivation, and pure connection back.  But that's not always true.  We can pick up the threads of our old lives.  They cycle back when we need them just like in knitting, when you switch colors and loop the other color up through the sides until it's time again to switch back.  Once you learn something, you never truly unlearn.  Even if you feel you have, just take the chance, set your arms free and remember that you were once strong and powerful and you still are.  Nothing has changed as much as you think it has.  And life is less linear than we believe.  We may miss a version of ourselves and often we need others to help us bring it back, but we are never far enough from it that we can't.

If you are bogged down with the complications of your existence, try picking up again something that you feel you abandoned.  It could be writing, it could be music, it could be skating or something entirely different.  But regardless of what it is, when you revisit an aspect of yourself that you thought you lost, you will forget a bit about the complications.  You will feel light, simple and part of the world.

It was nice not to think about a goal or to think about where a small increment of truth could get me in the future.  My forward-thinking anxiety disappeared and I was able to spin around and fly, suspended in the moment.  It didn't quite matter when that next rope would appear.  Because it's not about winning.  It's not about an end goal or a continuing path or a fate to latch onto.  It's about becoming closer.

Power

survincity.com

There are ghosts that walk this campus - two ghosts that held my heart.  I do not see them or hear them. I can sense them if I try.  And I know they are here.  And that fortune is waiting to bring them into the light.  

I was captive - captive to the versions of myself that they saw.  With one, I was soft, trembling and afraid of speaking out.  With the other, I could speak out through music.  I was allowed to entertain my creativity.  But it died through the logistics of chasing someone who did not want to be found.

I left the shadows to reclaim my soul - to find my utmost power, to feed my music and AK Kerani.  I left because attachment, even love, wasn’t enough to be a full person.  I was dying and I knew it.   If I stayed, I would not only have become a ghost’s captive, I would have become one myself.  

Leaving a toxic situation is not easy.  I saw how hard it was for my mom.  And even my microcosmic versions, pale in comparison, were hard enough for me.  You always hope at the deepest pores of your heart that it will get better.  You convince yourself that the pain and negligence you feel is a small payment compared to the security you get.  But are you really secure?  Or are you just claiming to be so you can fantasize about a future that you better hope you don’t achieve?  Are you really secure? Or are you just so afraid to find it in yourself that even an unstable and tantalizing attachment to someone else seems more attractive?  

These are the hard questions.  But they’re ones I have to ask and answer.  If I don’t, I might still not fight for you, because I’m not sure I actually want to.  But I will break under the memories of that false security that I mistake for undying love.  I will frantically throw myself into superficial situations that seem affirming until the point where I shut off and just hope it’s soon over.  I will run in circles, trying to prove I can quickly move on from your influence when obviously, a temporary spark is no match for years of true partnership, no matter how dysfunctional.  In trying so hard to prove my success in getting over you, I end up reaffirming the fact that I’m still struggling.  If I stand still, if I wait, I quickly realize that I’m perfectly fine.  I have everything I need, even clarity.  And I have moved on.  I don’t need proof in another person.  I have it in my amazingly close friendships, my passion for my business, the way I present myself and a confidence that was dead under your influence.  You didn’t mean for it to, but your love and my need to guard it with my every breath, sucked the life out of me.  

And now I have it back.  And instead of spreading myself so thin between people who cannot possibly capture my intensity, I want to keep it all for myself, my passions and people who over time have been able to capture it.  When the person I love is ready and comes to find me, he will see someone who is not empty and trying to fill a void, but overflowing.  

Our mutual friend the other day said that I have no power over you anymore.  And those words sting like a knife through my gut.  I want to believe you will always love me in some form.  I want to believe that you’ll remember me forever like you said you would.  Tell me, please that I’ll always affect you.  Because I can be sure to God that you will always affect me.  But if you don’t - if you have become more callous than I could even imagine, that is not my loss.  Because I was able to give you all I have and somehow, now have even more than I did when I met you.  My transparency is my strength.  I will always admit you have power, that you left a mark and that you are a part of me.  It will hurt like Frodo’s knife stab on Weathertop even after the ring has been destroyed.  But I will move on.  And I will find a world within myself when I will be free of that pain.  

This is my life.  It doesn’t belong to you.  It never should have.  It doesn’t belong to my past failures or to the guys that want me for release.  It doesn’t belong to a criminal who would have been family.  It belongs to me.  And I will take that power to the grave and beyond.  Because one day, I will want a connection.  One day I will want partnership again.  But now...I want power.