12.14.19 - This semester is officially over. I have one semester left before I graduate with my associates and move on to bigger things. Now it’s time to relax.
Hello! I made some printables to help you plan and organize up to sixteen weeks. Why sixteen weeks? That’s approximately how long a semester is, so you can use this planner as a semester overview! Even if you’re not in school, 16 weeks is a good length of time to give you a big picture view without being too overwhelmed. These printables feature a row for each week and can also be used digitally.
The summer after high school was spent kissing pretty girls in the bar bathroom. It was time wasted having a good time being kids for a while before it was all over.
As I stepped on my train for Venice last Saturday, (right foot first) I was ecstatic. Not just because I was finally traveling outside of my temporary ‘home’, not just because I had successfully maneuvered the european public transportation, not just because I was going to carnevale, but in that moment, it was because I love traveling. I love sitting by a window, with my headphones in playing whatever my heart desires, and just watching miles and miles of the earth pass by that I have yet to explore. I adore it. I love feeling the sun through the window on my arms. I love seeing a country go from the bustle of the city to the open plains of a vineyard to the somewhat suburban life I remember from the US to open waters to anything you can imagine. It’s exciting, it’s changing, and most of all it’s not overwhelming. My job in that moment is not to explore all those places, but simply to sit and enjoy the scenery. Everything is exactly how it should be.
So I stepped on ready to go, found my seat, and plugged in some Ratatat to begin the ride. No less than 15 minutes in to the ride, the windows became opaque. I must’ve looked like a seven year old that came down Christmas morning to find nothing under the tree. It was like I had gotten presents every other year, and now it was gone. I had seen 15 minutes of beautiful scenery before my sights were engulfed in a dark, cold tunnel. No proof of the outside world existed, but I knew it was there passing me by. I sat hoping every moment that passed by would hold the next view of Tuscany. Every once in a while, the light would open again, but it would go just as fast as it came. I was left overwhelmed by the fact that I hadn’t really seen the pictures of the world I wanted because I was too worried about when it would leave me next, when the black would take over. And it’s hard to wait, especially when I know what it’s like to feel the sun, see the trees, and love the world. The longer I have to wait, the more I wonder if I really saw what I saw and felt what I felt. As I approached Venice, the tunnels became far and few between. I had waited and pushed through my discontent of seeing nothing-not even the inside of a tunnel-complete darkness, and here I was. The sky opened up and Venice was in front of me. The colorful buildings and ancient churches, the beautiful blue water and the unexplainable way the roads intertwined to make me lost and just where I needed to be at the same time. It was a sight I had never seen before in my life and even though it wasn’t what I expected, it was awe-inspiring.
So let me tell you this, when you’re in the dark, you will catch glimpses of the light. But rather than letting them overwhelm you, let them warm you. Keep hold of those moments. I know you never really know when you’ll see the full yellow sun again when you are in the dark. It may be 15 minutes, 15 hours, 15 days, or 15 years, but know it is there. You’ve seen it before, and maybe it’s been a long time and sometimes you lose hope, but I promise if you hold on long enough you’ll reach the end of the tunnel and it’ll be the bluest sky and the brightest sun you’ve ever seen. The warmest your heart has ever felt.
I took a italian placement test yesterday to figure out where I would be and if I would be placed with students outside of Elon’s program. Thankfully, I was. Today was my first day of Italian.
Walking to the front desk today, I asked where my class was. I was quickly told “Aula A” and I walked down to my classroom. Two Elon girls were there, Hanna and Tiffany, whom I had met previously. We sat down and a couple minutes later a gorgeous, porcelain-looking brunette wearing perfect blush and carrying a bright pink bag waltzed in. Kalem: a flawless soft spoken brazilian that speaks no english and has the smile of a goddess. She was nervous as ever, but worked as hard as she could to communicate with us and the teacher. It was humbling to communicate through our broken Italian knowing our native tongues did not line up. Next was Jay: weighing in at no more than 70 pounds, this American-Italian 12-year-old came in ready to rumble. He didn’t know everything, but he stumbled and worked through his mistakes to keep up with the rest of us. In some cases, he knew infinitely more than we did and never missed a beat. Goes to show that even the little kids can teach us something. Lastly, and most amazing to me, was Ada.
A couple minutes late, it was hard not to notice that she was immensely disabled. I don’t know with what, but she struggled to get out each word. Walking was a task that clearly took daily therapy in the years before. She wrote with the focus that I would only have on 90mg of Adderall. But there she was, in my italian class, showing that this is who she was and she wasn’t backing down. We’ve all heard the triumph stories: the paraplegic that won the special olympics, the solider that was rehabilitated alongside his wife after hitting a road bomb, the homeless kid that started shining shoes and became the CEO of a company by 25. But this. This was different. Ada hasn’t won the olympics, or a nobel prize, or created a revolution, but she will show up everyday ready to fight to overcome her next barrier whether she gets recognition for it or not. I’m sure of it. To say the least, watching her win the word game we played in class fair and square had a smile on my face stretching from ear to ear I’ll never forget. She showed me her strength and gave me insight into the Italian’s hearts. I can confidently say she has already started to change my life and has undoubtedly changed many previous to me.
The second part of the Ada situation gave me a realization about the Italians I had never had. The professor, Giuseppe, saw us the same. Just like Ada, he wasn’t backing down. He saw Ada come up to battle and he gave her just as many questions and just as many exercises as the rest of us. He saw the potential of our hearts and minds, not our bodies. Not to discredit my peers from Elon, but these were students I could have never thought of placing in my class and yet the Italian’s saw no reason to let prejudice interfere with the way they treat a human. A human heart is a human heart and the less we pay attention to it, the harder and blacker it gets. Period. They don’t let a heart slide by without love and fair play. My professor taught each of us the same and showed me in less than 2 hours that these people coming from every different avenue of life had just as much as potential and human connection as myself.
I’ve been trying to pin down what makes me love this city-what makes everybody love this city. Without question, for me, it has to do more with the people inside it than the architecture and grandeur of the boundaries that hold them in. Maybe that’s why I suck at documenting the city via photographs. Sorry, guys. But really, what is it that draws me to the people, what makes me want to hug every italian mother, and create relationships with the market people? I think I’ve figured it out. For me, point blank: this city is full of courageous people.
I know courageous isn’t necessarily in our daily vernacular, but being courageous is what creates the whole-hearted people I see when I walk through the cobblestone streets of Firenze. It is a word with a hidden meaning that was never in my vocabulary until I stumbled upon Brené Brown. She is a researcher on shame, vulnerability, authenticity, and human connection and the way she defines courage in her TED talk ‘The Power of Vulnerability’ changed my world:
“Courage, the original definition of courage, when it first came into the english language: it’s from the latin word 'cur’ meaning heart and the original definition was "to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart.” So, these folks [the whole-hearted] had very simply the courage to be imperfect. They had the compassion to be kind to themselves first and then to others because as it turns out we can’t practice compassion with other people if we can’t treat ourselves kindly. And the last was they had connection-and this was the hard part-as a result of authenticity. They were willing to let go of who they thought they should be in order to be who they were.“
The italians are happy–genuinely happy. They live, eat, and breathe authenticity in my eyes. Maybe they don’t have everything together (Hello, Italian Politics), but they certainly have the art of loving themselves and others down to a T in my eyes. Forget the exceptions. Leave out the creeps, the tourists, the schemers and you are left with a group of people with hefty smiles and full hearts. And stomachs, for that matter.
Something that comes naturally to the whole-hearted, I believe, is balance. Balance in everything. They know when to be happy, when to be sad, when to sleep and when to push through, when to go out and when to work, when to eat and when to be satisfied, when to live and when to love, when to hold boundaries and when to wear your heart on your sleeve for even a stranger. These things are second nature because if they are vulnerable and tell their story with the whole heart-how they feel, think, see, wonder, question, and live-when could their instincts wrong? Sometimes, I’m sure, but does it matter at that point if even your excess is in moderation? There has to even be a balance between imbalance and balance in life, right?
Coming from a background where moderation was the polar opposite of my expertise, this lifestyle is beautiful to me. I had a breakthrough in May of 2013 that allowed me the ability to see my life, and life in general, for what is it - good. I don’t believe I am naive, I don’t believe this because I am young and inexperienced. I don’t believe this because I need to fantasize to avoid my problems. I believe this because it is the truth. The good of this world far outdoes the bad. Our world just has simply decided not to focus on this. Do you think Ada would be where she is today if she believed the things I’m sure she was told by every doctor about her inability to succeed in school? Or if she sat around feeling sorry for herself? I doubt it.
Here’s my connection: We focus on the bad because we think it will bring us compassion from others. We think that the more we display our struggles, the more people will flock to our side and hold us up. In that mindset, the more compassion we receive from others could smother the lack of compassion we feel from ourselves. In my eyes, the reality is that these courageous men and women that have compassion on themselves and decide to show the world their true hearts draw in the genuine things and people in life effortlessly. We naturally get compassion from others for our true struggles when we decide that our lives are worth it-worth it to be open and work through our struggles. But also to know that, vulnerability is a measure of courage, not weakness. We have to show people that we are worthy of continuing to tick before they will ask why. What gives us the ability to carry on? It is, I believe, the knowledge that handing our heart to another and saying "here it is: the good, the bad, and the ugly” will show us the people that flock when help is truly necessary. And what more do we need than the genuine when our struggles are real? Because the opposite is having the fake around to pretend they can help us feel again when the only struggle is that we don’t love ourselves. Which would you prefer? The true beauty is seen in a person’s heart, not their facade.
Whether it be how Giuseppe treats Ada, how the owner of I Due Frattelini helps me through my broken italian every order I place, the way Enrico understand life is good, or how my professors prefer to be in a circle and know the face behind the name, I’m consistently amazed at the balance created by a society that wears their heart on their sleeve. Maybe it’s not on display all the time, but grab one of their hands, turn it palm up, and I bet they wouldn’t hide a thing.
And hey, maybe I’m reading way too much into these people and they actually aren’t happy, but I still think I’m right. ;)
I want all your tricks and tips to get through studying when you’re in excruciating pain and exhausted, because it is the end of the semester as you all know and I need to study to pass my exam but I can’t get my mind to concentrate on anything because of the pain. SOOOO
If you guys have any trick for studying through a flare, please tell me because I need them!
I picked up my art, started playing piano again, and thoroughly sorted out my mess of a room. Oh, and I slept. A lot.
Goals for the end of the next semester: - Pass well to keep my bursary - Know Russian well enough to converse basically - Write a short story based on the idea I had since January this year - Do more art and music - Not completely stress out during exams
I love new places, new people, new ideas. I love cultural differences, and I’m fascinated by the truth - all the different versions of it. #Tokyo #Japan #quotes #japanese #flight #flying #culture #new #Asia #love #travel #travels #vacation #semester #holiday #language #airplane #photooftheday #japan2018 (på/i Tokyo Japan とうきよう 小図の森)
