What I Learned in 2014

In recognition of the flooding of  “My Year in Review” Facebook albums  – I wanted to share what I learned through this twister of a year. Many of the topics are probably no-brainers that one applies naturally through common sense. However, my common sense is at times a scarce resource, much like water in the Gobi Dessert. Me, I learn by doing – i.e. the “hard way” – through my own experiences. 

Behold, my findings in 2014: 

1. Make time for the people you care about. Discipline yourself to reach out to people, even if that means picking up the phone and making the first move. When the tough times hit (usually from out of nowhere), you will be glad you have a support system to lean on. And during those times you will learn who your true friends are. Nobody on their deathbed ever looked back and said, “I should spent more time at work.” You remember people not for what they said, but for how they made you feel. You give time to the people who bring value to your life and inspire you to be a better person.
   
   
   Everyone needs a support system.
   
   
   
2. Don’t date an ex. Just don’t. If it didn’t work out with the person the first time, it won’t work a second time, either – even if it’s years later, and even if in some ways you’ve both become different people. If you did things to screw your ex over in the past, chances are they still resent you for it (even if they claim not to). And in the second iteration of the relationship, their resentment manifests by their aloofness, their mixed messages, and ultimately their not treating you very well. After the second iteration ends abruptly on a government holiday, via Facebook, you realize the whole thing was an act to “get back” at you for the pain you inflicted on them years ago. This “Pandora’s Box” of stale emotions and petty resentments is not worth re-opening, so don’t do it.
   
   
   Better to be single than be with an ex. 
   
   
   
3. Don’t have a 5-year plan. Why? Because circumstances can change very rapidly and unexpectedly, altering your perceptions and desires as a result. When this happens, you are forced to re-evaluate your plans, and adapt to new circumstances.  Simply put, there are no guarantees in life, no matter who you are. The unexpected occurs, and you are forced to be flexible. You really have no idea where exactly you’ll be in 5 years or what you’ll want in the future. Planning that far ahead is foolhardy.
   
   
   Just plan on having fun!
   
   
   
4. Employ balance, not moderation. Balance and moderation are not synonymous. “Moderation” entails purposely limiting yourself from behavioral extremes and gratifications. “Balance” entails implementing equilibrium into your life and daily activities, no matter what those activities are.
   So you exercise and eat right. You take pride in your work.  Pursue a hobby. Look for love (if that’s your thing). You go out and have fun. Just remember that there are only 24 hours in a day, so you try not to allot too much of your life for just one activity. Remember that the extra hour you’re spending at the gym each day so you’ll be the same dress size you were 10 years ago – is an extra hour you could be using on something else – may it be seeing friends, or sleeping, anything. Remember that the calories you’re counting and the lumpy cottage cheese you’re eating may deter you from enjoying actual good food with friends, and having actual fun. You need to ask yourself whether the high school physique you’re longing for is truly worth the amount of fun you’re not having.
   
   
   Balance, not moderation. 
   
   
   
5. Go places. Go out of town, even if it’s just a road trip for the day.  See the ocean; walk barefooted on the warm beach and feel the grains of sand between your toes. The DC area, for as exciting and diverse of a city as it is, can also be incredibly stifling when you don’t want to be there.
   
   
   Go to Ocean City!
   
   
   
6. Face your problems head-on. To cope with problems you dive into work-arounds such as exercising to de-stress, or a late night on the town. However, some of these work-arounds can become a crutch. One day you wake up and realize that you were relying so heavily on these de-stressors, that you exacerbated the actual problem. Maybe you figure this out when that work-around no longer becomes an option for you – maybe your body gives out from the physical exertion or the money runs out. Then you are forced to face reality—which you should have done a whole lot sooner.
   
   
   Don't be afraid!
   

Some years are cumulatively superior to others. Overall, 2014 has been decent. The holidays have been less than amazing, but the summer was the best I’ve had in years. As a song once said, life’s a circle, not a line – it’s a cyclical process. You appreciate the good times while they’re good, and ride out the bad times, and be patient, while they’re bad. That’s the best you can do.  

Cheers to 2015. 

A Day in the Life.

Sometimes, a moment's experience helps me recognize and appreciate the bigger picture.

Picture this: 

It’s 9:40 on a Tuesday morning. Rain falls from the sky in pelting sheets, turning the roads and highways into a greasy, grey oblivion. I’m on the Capitol Beltway, in the slow process of heading south from Tysons Corner to my job in Old Town, Alexandria. The tiny pellets of rain hitting my car sound like 1,000 little fingers tapping steadily on its aluminum and fiberglass exterior. The car’s de-fogger is set to “high” in a sad attempt to fight the steam creeping up the windows, but produces little results save for the calming white noise of its fans.  

I’m moving at a determined 60 miles per hour, passing most of the nearby drivers who remain at a more cautious 50 and 55. My stereo is quietly playing “Mr. Bojangles” by the famously earthy Nina Simone, the perfect rainy day song – slow, steady, and nostalgic. I’m a little nervous about making it to the office on time to a 10:00 meeting, but the song relaxes me. Nina Simone’s voice is rich, baritone velvet. She sings, 

I knew a man, Bojangles,
and he danced for you in worn out shoes

The song is eerie, a little sad, but beautiful, just like the rainy sky above me. Sometimes I appreciate the rainy days, because they make me feel introspective. 

Today however, is not one of those times. I am tired, having woken up at 5:45 a.m. for my usual trip to the gym, and I am on a fairly tight schedule. Furthermore, I am hungry from the morning’s long treadmill run and from lifting weights. As a result, I am enjoying breakfast on the road – a half-eaten chocolate/peanut butter protein bar, which alternates between my right hand and the cup-holders in the console. 

I’ve been on the Beltway for about five minutes, and the rain pelts down even harder than before. I turn up the de-fogger even higher, before cranking my windshield wipers one speed faster. These tactics produce little improvement, however, as the precipitation remains in a thin, translucent film over my windshield. I am left with no other choice but to decelerate. In doing so, I make the final move which kicks off everything – I attempt to change lanes. 

Tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick goes my right turn signal as my left hand pushes the steering wheel up and right. The car begins to move a couple inches to the right, then the two rear wheels jerk back to the left side, in what the layman calls “fishtailing.” This is probably due to the greasy mix of rain and oil between the lanes, paired up with my bald back tires which should be replaced. So I overcorrect by instinct, quickly turning the wheel left to try and gain control of the rear. Simultaneously, by instinct, I slam on the brakes. 

Enter, physics, up close and personal: The backside of my car turns up and right, moving counter-clockwise, while the front end continues left. All the while I am seated in my car, perfectly still, hands on the wheel and right foot planted on the brake. My car is probably stalled out by this point, but we’re still moving from the momentum of the spin, while sliding to the left side of the highway. 

Everything feels like slow motion now. Unblinking, I stare straight ahead and realize I am now face-to-face with the cars that were once behind me. The headlights of a silver Mercedes sedan look on at me like two angry eyes.  The cars are moving forward, closer and closer. All the while I am still frozen in my seat. Nina Simone is singing, 

He jumped so high, he jumped so high
Then he lightly touched down

And I realize, this is it. This is when I will die. 

This is a strangely calm and accepting moment. In this split-second, I look on at my life as a collective whole. Not in the flashback kind of way that they portray in the movies, but in a way in which I see myself as an entire, complete being. And I feel oddly content. As my car is spinning in this merry-go-round-like motion that will presumably lead to my death, I come to the following realization: 

All of the problems in my life that had seriously bothered me, I fixed. I became self-sufficient again last year, and very recently I found a fulfilling job in which I am challenged, and that uses my skills to their maximum potential. I am happier with my life, and as a result I find myself putting less pressure on myself in terms of my appearance, being less critical. I realized, eventually, that for all these years, I never gave myself the credit I deserved. 

What’s more I am now in a happy home, keeping ties with people who I truly care about, and who care about me. And I tied the loose ends with the people I care about, who are no longer in my life; I said my piece to them; I did what I could. 

This, I realize, would be a suitable ending point. 

I take a deep breath, and I accept my situation. The car will move where it will, and I have no choice but to go with it. So I wait. 

The car continues in its spin, and I find myself facing the grey concrete barrier wall lining the right-hand shoulder. Then I blink, and I’m looking straight down I-495, in the direction I had originally started. It’s been a full 360-degree turn. My muscles are clenched, my back is stiff, and I’m waiting for the telltale sounds of warped metal and the blue confetti of shattered fiberglass. Yet the car continues to the left, sliding face-forward through the narrow opening of a white construction fence which separates the left-hand lane from the neighboring HOV/Toll lanes. Had I lost control of the car another 10 feet further ahead than I did, I would have hit a concrete lane divider. 

The toll road lanes are under construction and empty, thankfully for me. In the HOV lanes I come to my senses, defeating the inertia of my instincts. I remove my foot from the brake pedal, realizing the engine is dead and the brakes are fully locked. Yet, the car is still moving and in the direct path of a green construction dumpster. Enter, my inner “lightbulb moment,” in which my brain cells re-awaken: I yank the parking brake.

The car stops. 

Point blank: I just pulled a 360-degree turn on I-495 in the pouring rain, coming out uninjured and with zero body damage to my car. The old British guys on Top Gear couldn’t have mastered this. 

I slump back into my seat, and take a bite of my protein bar. It’s all I can do. 

As I chew on the salty, chocolaty goodness, I realize how sickeningly lucky I am. I realize how many people have been in similar situations, but wound up dismembered and unrecognizable. I realize that someone, somewhere up in the sky had a hand in this, and is looking out for me. Some higher power out there, ultimately, wants me to be here. And most importantly I realize that I am still here, because there is a purpose I was put here for, that I have yet to accomplish. That’s the bigger picture. 

I am not the best-looking or most intelligent person in the world. My destiny does not involve breaking world records or winning trophies. Out of the 7 billion people on this planet, I am average at best. However, I do make the most of what I have, continuing to challenge myself in whichever way I can, be it physically, mentally, or emotionally. I embrace the people that I love, as these relationships fulfill me in a way that material gifts and a weekend’s fleeting entertainment never could. And although I’ve made my share of poor choices, I know I am a good person. I take ownership of my mistakes, and I move forward. It’s all that I can do. 

Times like these make me step back from the noise and the chaos and the fluff. I want to live—that’s the final chord. Life is the best gift I have.