Intrepid Musings

2010-10-22T20:32:00.000-07:00

I am a citizen of the world. Born and raised partially in India, in Africa, and the United States, I’ve come to value the diversity and breadth of my experiences in life. The people I’ve met, the places I’ve visited have provided me with a sense of self that has allowed me to connect with the very fundamental building block of humanity: existence.

As I’ve traveled through the past close to two years of my life, I’ve repeatedly come to a metaphorical crossroads in life, one thrusting forward the age-old question of the importance of one’s being, its interactions with others, its place in the vast universe. I’ve found myself constantly struggling to balance the yearning to formulate these relationships with the intense desire to discover my true self, my passions, my dislikes, my visions, and my dreams.

I’ve come to find that pen and paper are my confidants. Words create an irreverent solace, through which I’m able to express, as clichéd as this will sound, the deepest and darkest of my thoughts, wishes, and aspirations.

And with such genuine reflection, as was inevitable, I’ve also come to find that no longer am I my parents’ child. No longer do I see life through their lenses; no longer am can I identify myself as a small part of a large whole.

It’s evident now, more than ever before:

I am independent. I am alone.

We live our lives, in the shadow of our parents, family, and friends – a direct reflection of their ideals, values, opinions, and thoughts. They are the ones we look up to, respect, honor, and emulate. Their vision is one we oftentimes adopt as our own, a future that we often believe we see for ourselves.

However, at some point, the moment arrives – the one poignant moment when you realize that you are, in fact, your own person. That solitary moment is perhaps the most bittersweet in one’s life; it’s the one, sole time when the entire range of human emotion envelopes your core, your being, and you feel helpless and empowered all at once.

You travel through life, one day at a time, redefining all of the things you once thought you knew with conviction, rediscovering your true sense of self, while also evaluating and characterizing the differences between your values and those you grew up with. You come to accept that perhaps life is a series of phases, of chances, occurrences, and lucky breaks after all that characterize the various formative milestones that define one’s existence on planet Earth.

And so, a surreal feeling overwhelms you, the moment that realization of independence and solitude sets in. I say that not to solicit sympathies or reassurance from those around me, but rather to remind myself that my life is mine to live, my decisions – mine to make, my thoughts and opinions – mine to develop and stand behind.

With this realization, comes the inevitable question of the value of solitude and its alternatives. The evolutionary social tale dictates that one transition from a life of familial and fraternal familiarities to interactions of the romantic nature, nurturing the webs of interactions weaved throughout the influential years and milestones of life. This natural progression in the phases of one’s life begs the question of its necessity, and it’s become none too apparent for me in recent years.

Throughout this time, I’ve incrementally become exposed to a nagging of sorts. I’ve somehow grown accustomed to hearing the incessant rumblings throughout familial conversations, hinting, and most recently outright addressing, the lack of familial aspirations I’ve displayed (or rather, haven’t displayed, as the case may be). It’s the kind of banter that I’ve come to send through one ear and directly out the other, without even remote processing…for my sanity’s sake.

However, one comment from my grandmother recently caught me off guard. As we chatted about my current place in life, she asked whether she’d ever see me get married before her time grew near an end. Most strikingly, she inquired what I could possibly do with all of the money I earn as a part of my job…as it couldn’t possibly fill any void that relationships are expected to fill in one’s life. “In old age,” she said, “it’s the people around you who keep you going and look after you…hardly something money can do.”

This last bit rattled me, to say the least. I’d never even considered my career as something that simply earned me money. It’d never dawned on me that my dedication to said career was perceived as a means to a simple end. It’d never occurred to me that there was a need to justify my motivation towards excelling as a byproduct of the passions I possess and the innate desire I have towards positively contributing to something I hold so near and dear to my heart.

And then it hit me.

Perhaps this was the relationship that others find on a daily basis with other people. Perhaps I’ve come to find it in something, rather than someone. Is it indeed possible that I’m destined to embark on a relationship with one of my two passions in life…or perhaps the more appropriate question is, is it actually possible that my one true love is, in fact, an object and not a being?

The consequences and ramifications of such a lifestyle decision are bountifully negative. And I’ll admit that the relatively minimal number of years I have experienced, along with my track record of making life-altering decisions, undoubtedly indicates that I have plenty of additional time to come to a relatively definitive viewpoint on such a subject. Yet, unlike the results of many of my other personal reflections, I have yet to fully draw a conclusion with which I am satisfied and content in accepting. Perhaps this is just an indication of my immaturity and subsequent room for personal growth…I hope this assertion proves to be true, and that I’m one day left with an unwavering, unconditional, completely confident sense of self, whether solitary or attached.

A speck of sand, in an infinite Universe

2010-10-12T22:28:00.001-07:00

Over the last hour, I’ve sat in awe in front of my television – not reveling in the storytelling reverie of primetime television, or cringing at the evidence of society’s affinity towards slowly bringing about its own downfall.

No, for once, I sat in awe, goosebumps on my arms, hair raised on the nape of my neck, and heart beating much more than discretely, watching history being made as the first of thirty-three miners, trapped in a collapsed mine, were raised above the Earth’s surface in remote Chile. I looked on in absolute amazement, as their friends and family waited, with baited breath and many tears, for a glimpse of their loved ones for the first time in almost seventy days. I imagine, as many reporters have, that it was much like the anticipation of the first lunar landing that fateful day in July 1969.

Since we first heard of the critical situation, we've also heard repeatedly of professional organizations across the world being called upon for help. And today, as we all watch in sheer astonishment at the feat that was accomplished over these last sixty-nine days, I can't help but find solace and hope.

We just witnessed first-hand evidence of humanity's potential, intelligence, passion, determination, & perseverance.

I can't stress how incredibly poignant that is.

Think about those words: potential, intelligence, passion, determination, perseverance.

In a world where we hear daily of massacres, tragedies, recessions, finger pointing, you name it - the rescue operations today are a sign of hope, of faith in the goodness of the world and of humanity. It's evidence of the extraordinary bond we all share as inhabitants of this Earth, of the gift we've been bestowed to have analytical thoughts and related actions.

Many times tonight, I've heard reporters recount stories of how watching history unfold this way is much like when they, as children, witnessed man set foot on the Moon for the first time. Though amidst political turmoil and uncertainty, the world united as one to look on as humanity extended its footprint past the soils of the Earth and onto an extraterrestrial body. Much like today, we demonstrated on that day over 41 years ago, that we, as human beings, have the potential to accomplish so much, with so little. We proved that intelligence, passion, dedication, and perseverance could help us break the surly bonds of the Earthly forces that dictated our every move for centuries.

And yet, as time eludes us, we forget that humanity is capable of such feats. We allow tragedy and hate to heavily guide our notions, feelings, and actions, without pausing to remember the accomplishments of our forefathers. Somehow, in spite of the progression we make as humanity, we seem to revert to our primal nature, spurring the events that mar our track record of extraordinary accomplishments.

Perhaps that's what draws me so intimately to space exploration. As a child, I still remember pouring over astronomy picture books, gazing intently at the vivid imagery of our Universe. I still remember reading about the Apollo program, seeing still images and video of humanity's first foray onto other worlds. I still remember staring in awe as I stood in Mission Control for the first time, realizing the men and women there were supporting humans in space...actual space!

Working my way through various supporting roles at the Johnson Space Center has provided me with incredible perspective and insight. I tread the same ground as legends of manned spaceflight, past and present, and see the culmination of their combined efforts on a daily basis. I revel in the feats we have accomplished towards furthering humanity's knowledge of the great unknown, beyond the surface of our planet Earth. And most importantly, perhaps, I work daily, through certainty and strife alike, with great hope and faith, that one day our contributions will help humanity sustain life in distance lands.

The allure of the unknown has long enticed mankind - to not just explore, but invent. As I watch still the rescue efforts continue, I'm reminded of the innate characteristics that make us human beings, and of the continued curiosity we've possessed as a species since our inception. As I watch the wheel of the lift turn, signifying the progress the rescuers have made in the last few hours, I'm reminded of humanity's greatest achievements, especially those in the face of adversity, and I can't help but feel hopeful - for the success of these rescue operations; for the return to normalcy for those thirty-three brave, strong men; for our fate as humans on this planet we've made our home. I hope that one day, we will be able to share the perspective that few men and women have been fortunate enough to see while orbiting the Earth, and appreciate our place, not just in the world, but our Universe.

Spend a month at a museum? Yes, please!

2010-08-10T17:50:00.000-07:00

A little less than a month ago, I found out about the "Month at the Museum" contest, held by the Chicago Museum of Science & Industry...the grand prize being a month-long stay at the 11-acre museum, documenting the winner's stay, and sharing his/her experiences with the world.

Combine my love for museums, science & technology, & writing...I'm in!

Below is the essay I put the finishing touches on and mailed off, along with the rest of my application package. Here's to keeping fingers crossed - this would be an incredibly amazing opportunity!

---

At age eight, I sat in the Mission Control, gazing in wonderment at the consoles and displays tracking the whereabouts of the orbiting shuttle, as the flight control team worked to solve problem after problem during a simulation. I watched in awe as a group of people worked together to help humans live and work in space…the same space that all of my astronomy books talked about, the ones I sat and poured over from an even earlier age.

I left that day, proclaiming to my mother that I would one day work in Mission Control.

Seventeen years later, I half realized that dream, when I sat in Mission Control for the first time and spoke to the crew onboard the International Space Station, whom I had trained. I left that night, my footsteps echoing across the empty parking lot, knowing that I was well on the way towards contributing to a legacy left by the spaceflight pioneers of yesteryear.

As I’ve worked towards fulfilling this dream, I’ve realized the value of all of the formative events throughout my life that have shaped the person I’ve become today, and moreover, continually prepare me to accomplish my goals. As a child, I sat, nose in science books on a regular basis. I designed my own experiments, to apply all of the concepts I read about in those very books and at school. I pursued an engineering degree in college that equipped me with the understanding of and ability to apply principles essential to spaceflight operations. Each day I spend as an astronaut instructor, I gain insight and appreciation for the training that crewmembers undergo to prepare for spaceflight.

Earlier this year, I was given the opportunity to give a talk to the participants of one of NASA public engagement efforts - the STS-132 Tweetup. Though apprehensive at first at the thought of speaking to so many people, I came out of the experience having a deep-seated appreciation for the role that public engagement plays in any organization’s mission, particularly those that strive to educate and excite the public about science and technology. The experience ignited in me a passion for engaging the general public in dialog about my job, about NASA, about my passions, and it’s created in me a sense of obligation to share my experiences and opportunities with those around me.

Each leg of my own journey in life thus far has prepared me in some manner to come closer to realizing the childhood aspiration I proclaimed was mine at such an early age. My avid enthusiasm for science and math has led me to a great number of opportunities and adventures, ones that I’ve been fortunate to share with others. And if given the opportunity, a “Month at the Museum” could afford me another formative event that will further shape me and help me share the value and excitement of science and technology with the world.

I Now Pronounce You...

2010-08-09T20:52:00.000-07:00

Somewhere between my first real job and my first friend’s wedding, the process pretty much solidified itself:

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!” or “I’m so glad we finally saw each other!” followed by a quick glance at the hand – left, ring finger, to be precise.

I’m not even positive when this quick one-two came to be; I suddenly realized one day that it’s become the commonplace procedure.

Friday night, I reconnected with two high school friends, happily married (one with a kid), after quite some time.

Two words aptly describe the experience: heartwarming and terrifying.

On the eve of my twenty sixth year, I sit at a definitive juncture – one that finds me tussling with issues typical of most twenty-somethings. And yet, the upbringing in a society that has embedded a feeling of self-absorbency in its youth has me tossing and turning, night and day, to find a reclusive sanctuary, where my irrational fears & insecurities can be recognized, appreciated, and allayed…once and for all.

I say all this, not to elicit sympathy or advice, but merely to articulate the very reason for my seemingly severe disdain of all things celebratory of love.

Perhaps it is as simple as some unrequited schoolgirl crush, or perhaps it is the symptom of a deep-rooted expectation, entrenched in not only our society’s view of the life cycle, but humanity’s.

Even a few weeks after the fact, a particular conversation with my grandmother stands out in my mind. Mere minutes after beginning a chat, the first in a few weeks’ time, my grandmother broached the question I prepare to hear each time I have a conversation with her…except this time, it made its appearance in record time.

“When are you going to get married?” followed by the guilt-producing, “Will I even get to see you get married?”

Really, grandma…seriously?

Fine, let’s forget that – I prepared myself to hear that one…it’s definitely not the first time, and I’d be willing to bet a good chunk of chain that it’s not the last (and you’d be an absolute fool to bet against me on that one).

Then, she hit me with another gem…one I hadn’t heard before, but one that really struck a chord with me:

“You can’t just work all the time, all your life. What are you going to do with all that money? It’s not worth it, if you don’t have people to grow old with and look after you.”

My initial, instinctual reaction was to just allow the words to go in one ear and out the other, but over time, her words came back to haunt me. Coupled with the revelation that my mother and her friends were likewise on the lookout for “the one,” I found myself becoming more and more frustrated with the position I found myself in.

Before I really even knew much about boys and marriage, I knew one thing, and one thing alone: I was going to work for NASA. I loved space; I wanted to be an astronaut. That was the end of the story. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Sixteen years later, I found myself setting foot on the ground treaded by legends, past and present, realizing that dream I held for so long. Not merely a job, nor even a career…it’s the embodiment of something I envisioned before I was tainted or biased by societal expectations.

It's never been about money...about prestige. From the very beginning, it's been only about the fulfilling of an innate curiosity, an indulging in true, unbridled passion for the unknown, the unchartered.

Any vision of my life that I’ve ever known, or will ever know (I’m certain), has always included my passion for human spaceflight.

As I sit here, weeks after that conversation with my grandmother, and weeks after that revelation of my mother’s plans, and mere days after the nostalgic night with old friends, I’m left to wonder…as friends tie the knot, have adorable children, and nurture their families…

Will I be ostracized or frowned upon for being so in love with something?

Will my future hold a love that rivals that which I’ve shared with spaceflight (and music – my other, equally weighted passion)?

Or will I be left to cave to societal and familial pressures, compromising my beliefs and expectations, in the pursuit of externally anticipated happiness?

I sure don't know what it is...

2010-06-01T11:33:00.000-07:00

Something’s missing, and I don’t know how to fix it.

John Mayer’s tune about life’s tribulations reads like my life story right now.

I’m not alone. I wish I was…because then I’d know I was down because I couldn’t find a friend around, to love me like they do right now.

Last fall, I took a writing course, with the full intention of starting a book project, characterizing the mid-twenties slump that more and more twenty-somethings have been experiencing. Soon thereafter, work picked up at break-neck speed, and I rode those coat-tails for as long as I possibly could.

Alas, it’s with a heavy heart I must report, mostly to myself, that it’s time to hop off the roller coaster and exit the park. I don’t even like roller coasters…well, not real ones, anyway. Figurative ones are OK…except when they lead to ambiguity, uncertainty, and the ever-dreaded disillusionment.

Something’s missing…and I don’t know what it is.

This was the precise struggle I was faced with a few months ago. I got derailed, and now I’m back.

Friends….check.

Money….check.

Well-slept…check.

Opposite sex….well, not quite, but that’s quite alright.

Guitar…an equivalent, so check.

Microphone…likewise, another check.

Messages waiting on me when I come home….close enough.

So, where’s the hopeless discontent coming from? It’s so much harder to fix a problem that you know exists, but can’t articulate or pin point.

Acknowledgement is the first step, right? So, what’s the second?

Quarter Life Crisis, what?

2010-05-21T11:09:00.000-07:00

I’m 25 years old, having just stepped over the threshold of that quarter-century milestone that scares so many of my peers (I’d be lying if I ever said that it didn’t worry me just a bit, too), a few months ago. I have my dream job…the one I confidently declared would indeed be mine at age eight. I graduated from a relatively well-ranked college, with a relatively versatile degree, and with very little debt accompanying my name. I have a good group of friends who I’ve met through my experiences in life and who have all helped me in some way or another to recognize my full potential. I have hobbies that keep me busy, ones that help me realize my passions and invigorate in me a sense of accomplishment and commitment that very few things can give me.

So, what’s the issue? It seems as if I’ve really got everything figured out, and yet I have this nagging desire to know what the future holds, an annoying sentiment that constantly has me wondering where my life is ultimately headed. It’s an all-too-familiar feeling that has plagued my conscious thought for the last few years. For so long, this familiar was exciting, welcoming, fascinating – I held to the belief that things would work out in the end; so, I was just going along for the ride, enjoying the view. But, after twenty-some odd years of structured existence, I am left in a completely unstructured world for the first time, with the unfamiliar ability to make every conscious (and even unconscious) decision directly impacting my life.

And it’s daunting…incredibly so.

Growing up, I, along with many of my other generational peers, have had many options and choices: apple juice or milk, soccer or gymnastics, piano or violin lessons, state school or out-of-state school. For me, personally, these choices provided broad experiences, memories, and skills that will last me throughout my lifetime. As college was well underway, I realized that I had just as many of those decisions waiting to be made on the other side – I panicked. But, I quelled my fears, knowing that my internship would likely see me through to a job that I would completely enjoy, and that’s all there is to life at that point, right? Graduate from college, land a plush job…live life.

A little over two years ago, I had the fortunate opportunity of landing my dream job: the one I had visions of at age eight…and then again at ten…and then again at 14…and another time at sixteen...and still to this day. So, why am I so keen on knowing what the future holds? Why, though fully content with my present position, am I even remotely concerned about where I see myself in 5, 10, 15, or 20 years?

As I’ve struggled to answer these questions in the past few months, I’ve come to realize that this feeling is all too prevalent for my peers, as well. They, too, are struggling with the familiar thoughts and emotions that the uncertainty of our twenties brings. We lead such brick-house lives, in that everything is given to us or decided for us; we’re told exactly what to do and when to do it. The choices we are given, the decisions we make for ourselves, are still within the confines of a societal and parental structure that is deemed appropriate by those around us. We have all been brought up in a day and age where the options are limitless, and yet we still are not given much guidance in understanding and focusing our efforts towards creating meaning lives for ourselves. My generation is plagued with materialistic thoughts and expectations. We have all grown up with a plethora of electronics and goods in our homes to supplement our lives. Our parents worked tirelessly to provide us with the very best they could afford.

And yet, many of us embark on our journeys into the “real world” with little to no idea of what awaits us. We continually seek a sense of purpose in our lives, a way to understand our place in the world. And when we realize that the size of the world is inversely proportional to the likelihood of our making an impact on it, we’re left with a feeling of confusion and restlessness to actually redefine our sense of self.

So, what can we do? How can we take all of the vast number of resources available to us and turn it into our driving force? How do we use all of these things to our advantage to understand the world, ourselves, and ultimately navigate out of the murky waters of our twenties? What can we do differently as we approach this incongruous juncture in our lives to arrive on the opposite end of our 20s as driven, focused individuals whose professional and personal lives are not individual driving forces, but together help us understand our relevancy in the world?

I realized as these questions formed in my mind that if the answers were simple, and those I looked to for support for every other problem had the answers, then I’d have been golden maybe a few months, or even years, ago. I was curious what majority of my peers had the same struggles and thoughts that I did and what types of concerns they had. I wondered whether other generations felt pangs of the same sort in their twenties. I thought about our society and my upbringing, interested in what factors could have possibly led me to feel this way and how things could have changed to help prepare me more for the “real world.”

Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that we need a means of proactively addressing this struggle that we twenty-somethings face, a struggle that is more commonplace than many would care to admit or acknowledge. We need a means of preempting these feelings of hopelessness, listlessness, and frivolity. We need to not only understand the individual sources of these personal feelings, but develop a method for coping with their effects and eventually overcoming them effectively and efficiently.

With this in mind, I've decided to segue the purpose of this blog from just an avenue for person venting to perhaps a constructive analysis of the factors that influence the upbringing and development of those fondly dubbed, "Generation Y." As this site develops, I hope to add to it not only my own thoughts, but those of others around me. Perhaps eventually, it could turn into a source of added perspective to a topic of discussion that, though widespread, is often discounted or avoided.

A Farewell

2009-11-08T21:29:00.000-08:00

Earlier this evening, about 830p, as I sat at the local Starbucks, chatting away with a very good friend from high school, I happened to check my E-mail on my phone. A little surprised to see a new message in my work inbox so late on a Sunday evening, I opened the message to discover that one of my co-workers, Ben, had passed away. My mind whirling with questions and rampant thoughts, I sat in sheer shock.

"This is just so crazy," I uttered, over and over for the next hour.

It's been almost 4 hours since I received the news, and it's no less shocking. As I sat there, trying to absorb the news, I thought about the night, just a few weeks ago, when Ben joined me and another friend for dinner. And then my mind wandered to last week, when I chatted with him online, inviting him out to a local bar for happy hour the following day. I am still having the hardest time thinking that that same person is no longer with us.

Ben was one of the nicest and most polite people I've ever met. With a smile on his face, he always greeted me with a, "Hey, Madi, how's it going?" every time we saw each other. In fact, I don't think I'd ever seen him not smiling. His gentle and quiet nature really had a way of putting people at ease; and I was a bit surprised to find that he had a great sense of humor, when he opened up. I'd only just gotten to know him past our working interactions, and as another co-worker said tonight, I think my greatest sadness in all of this is that I will not be able to be friends with him and get to know him further.

The last few weeks have found me in a decent amount of inner turmoil. I've found myself struggling with an ongoing process of self-identification, attempting to define myself and that which makes me content. This emotional churning culminated in a lengthy venting session via text message to a friend, who offered me some advice: live in the present. This adage has survived centuries, and I'd heard it before, but it hit me for some reason that night. The next day, I found out a good friend needs to have an ultrasound for a medical issue - to rule things out, but still a little bit of a scare nonetheless. And now, this.

It really puts things into perspective for me. I realized tonight how easy it is to get caught up in the minute details of life, and forget to actually live. I realized how petty the complaints I've voiced over the last few days have truly been. And I thought about the legacy that we are all given the opportunity to leave when we move on.

I remember watching the movie Dead Poets' Society when I was in 8th grade, and really being struck by the phrase that became a cornerstone of the movie's premise: Carpe Diem. Never have I truly felt its fundamental nature and intent until tonight. Though sometimes tedious and tumultuous, life is such a real blessing. Every moment should be valued and appreciated...and lived. We never are guaranteed our next breath, so we should enjoy the present to its fullest extent.

It's amazing to me how little impact words like that have had on me in the past. And yet, after recent events, I can't help but feel, to the core, its fundamental message. Though I've only known him a short time, Ben has unknowingly inspired me to be the driving force behind the change I've been longing to and struggled to make in my life. The value of this thought alone I cannot even articulate in words, especially given the struggles I've had with defining and acting upon my thoughts and ideas in the recent past. So, thank you could not even begin to express the gratitude and appreciation I wish I could articulate to him in this very moment.

Rest in peace, Ben - whether you can realize it now or not, you've made a really huge impact on my life, and I thank you for it. You will be missed dearly.

(False) Sense of Confidence

2009-10-25T11:46:00.000-07:00

At dinner tonight with an old high school friend, I brought up the topic of the consulting industry and its appeal to many of our friends. My friend is in charge of the marketing aspect of her clients’ projects, so she’s quite familiar with helping her clients market their products and services. She expressed interest and a desire to eventually be a part of a consulting company herself, and as we discussed I began wondering:

What exactly is the appeal of this particular industry to so many, specifically so many of my generational peers?

During the last semester of college, I, too, was drawn by the challenging work environment that consulting offered (specifically, strategic management consulting). I applied and interviewed with a number of firms and ultimately decided that the world of strategic management consulting wasn’t completely suited for me. I have no regrets in that decision, as I’ve held fast to the rationale I gave at the time: the industry is cutthroat and perhaps a little too fast-paced for me.

After dinner, I really got to thinking about how so many of my friends in my generation have expressed interest in pursuing a career in consulting. I mentioned this to another friend, who responded with, “Maybe no one wants to actually solve their own problems.”

“So, does that mean we, as a generation, have been lulled into a false sense of security and confidence that we can actually solve other people’s problems?” I asked.

His response: “Maybe it’s about finding something meaningful. Maybe the idea of solving other people’s problems is more meaningful to our generation.”

Curiosity got the better of me, and I mulled this quick dialogue that I’d just had.

What values are we instilled with as a generation? The desire to contribute and meaningfully in all we do has popped up in many generational attributes and characteristics lists. We’ve grown up being told we can solve the world’s problems, that it’s our duty – and why shouldn’t we believe it? We’re at the forefront of technological and societal development. We’re at a pivotal juncture in leveraging all of the resources available to us and creating solutions for some of the most pressing issues of our times. Our intrinsic value systems have effectively guaranteed that we feel some sense of responsibility, collectively as a generation, to use our talents, skills, and resources to meaningfully contribute to society.

However, this very notion, I believe, leads us into a second layer of this discussion.

At what expense have we been instilled with these values? This very question lends itself to identifying the factors that have contributed to our upbringings. We’ve been told from day one that we can achieve anything we set our minds to. If we have the talent, we can use any number of resources to achieve our goals and become successful. Our educational system is designed to enable this to prove true: we work hard, focus, and earn grades that reflect our understanding of topics and concepts. Many of our parents rewarded us for attaining our goals, and continually reminded us that we were capable of anything we set our minds to. So, when we received those awards at school, or the allowance or new toy from our parents, we gained a sense of self-confidence that translated to other aspects of our lives. As the list of achievements grew, so did the level of self-confidence…to the point where we now have a sense of self-confidence and assurance that we can combat any challenge that comes our way, solve any problem that we face – so much so that it seems many of our generation are actually interested in making problem solving for others their career.

But, what keeps us from wanting and trying to solve our own problems?

As I’ve talked to many of my friends, I’ve realized how many of us are struggling to make sense of our lives and understand what we want out of it. It’s interesting that although we are given the support and encouragement from a very young age to pursue our ambitions, many of us come face-to-face with the realization that the limitless options available to us perhaps impede the progress we desire to make in “figuring our lives out.” How is it that we find curiosity and interest in helping others’ solve their problems, and yet we (especially those of us who hit this rough patch in our twenties) find it difficult to logically approach our own personal predicaments? Moreover, if we can’t solve our own problems, how can we possibly help others’ solve theirs, regardless of whether they are personal or professional in nature? For that matter, does it make a difference if they are personal or professional in nature – are these mutually exclusive in this discussion? As these questions sprung to mind, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps the positive reinforcement we’ve received at a young age is actually counterproductive in the long run. I couldn’t help but think that perhaps we have inadvertently developed a false sense of self-confidence in our abilities and potential.

So, my question is: what are the implications of this, if it’s true? Is this false sense of confidence actually dangerous? Moreover, what factors have contributed to this in our development – societal, educational, parental?

A Bittersweet Farewell

2008-11-11T13:52:00.000-08:00

As I write the following, one would find me sitting at the airport in a city and country that have given me a great deal in so little time. In the past two weeks, I have not only explored the recesses of two magnificently beautiful cities, but I’ve also been fortunate enough to glimpse inner recesses of my own being, with a perspective I could not have imagined or planned for (nor did I). When I was informed of the duration of my stay here, I will admit to some initial reservations. Of course, I do not fault myself for this minor ignorance, as I believe drifting outside one’s comfort zone always produces such reactions. However, in hindsight, I am convinced that my stay would not have been remotely as exhilarating and inspiring had I not had the opportunity to explore the locations and experience the sights and sounds of the locales. The following is thus a brief account of my stay in one of the most charming and culturally rich cities I have visited: Montreal (with a brief foray to account for my travels to neighboring Quebec City, as well).

I arrived here on a Sunday evening, and after gathering my luggage and vehicle for the duration of my stay, I set off for my hotel. Upon arriving, I checked in, ascended to the twelfth floor, and turned the handle, as the key card unlocked the door. The room was pleasant, but more astounding was the view from the half-circle window, which spanned across one entire wall. As I stood in the middle of this wall, I was mesmerized by the juxtaposed sight before me: ahead of me, I saw Mont Royal rise above the towering high-rise buildings; to my left was a quaint church, whose exterior radiated a charming, old-world feel; and to my right lay the most spectacular sight I have seen in some time (though, I will provide you a brief preview of accounts to come by saying there were several subsequent locations that provided rivaling views) – the Cathedrale de Marie Reine-du-Monde. With its circular steeples and stunning architecture, I could only gaze in sheer amazement at its elegance and beauty. Taking particular note of the serenity of my surroundings, I settled in for the night and prepared for the week of training that lay before me.

The following week continued to provide me with a sense of personal wonder. I say this in order to encompass many of the thoughts that whirled through my head in the subsequent days. Having already been in Montreal for a two-week period earlier in the year, I found myself feeling more settled in the city, which in turn allowed me to better acquaint myself with the beautiful sights and sounds that it had to offer. The drive to work and back each day, in itself, revived in me a feeling of sheer gratitude and amazement at the position I found myself in each day. Fine dining and the opportunity to practice my French language skills further added to the delightful experience.

Perhaps the highlight of my entire stay, however, was a brief foray to a neighboring city, about 150 or so odd miles northeast of Montreal, Quebec City. My desire to visit the city prompted thoughts of my weekend plans even before my departure to our northern neighbor. Coworkers provided me with brief accounts of their visits, and my decision was finally solidified during the week prior to my trip, after speaking with a native of the city, who provided me with a list of all of the interesting sights to take in.

Having never taken a solo road-trip in the past, I found myself giddy with excitement as the day approached. I gathered a few “road-trip-friendly” items early on a Saturday morning and found myself driving northeast by 8a. After pouring over the numerous printouts that the Quebec City-native I befriended had given me, I decided the night before to travel first to the Montmorency Falls – a beautiful waterfall, just northeast of Quebec City. After a three-hour drive, I found myself in the parking lot of the Montmorency Falls Park, ready to ascend some thirty odd flights of stairs to arrive at the top of the falls. The natural beauty was nothing short of spectacular; though, I will admit that traversing the suspension bridge atop it was something short of terrifying! After satisfying my inner photographer’s quest for the perfect shots, I decided to make my way over the body of water surrounding Quebec City (coincidentally, this is the start of the Atlantic Ocean), towards a small, country island, from where I was able to take in gorgeous views of the Quebec City area.

With two of the three “must-see-locales” checked off my list, I began the trek to Quebec City. As I drove through its streets, the city’s architecture and layout exuded a charming, quaint, old-world European vibe; though interestingly juxtaposed with this nostalgic air was the presence of modern stores and eateries. Arriving at what seemed to be one end of the city, I was welcomed by the towering pillars and castle-like steeples of the Chateau Frontenac, which I learned previously holds the title of the most photographed hotel in the world. After parking, I ventured through a small, pedestrian walkway, between the cobblestone-like brick sides of two buildings, and began speaking to a man selling cityscape sketches and paintings. We spoke of my visit to the city, of the artist whose sketches I purchased, and of the title my home has earned (“The Fattest City” – something we are all undoubtedly proud of, I assure you!) – all in French. It was a brief conversation, but provided me with a sense of pride and accomplishment, as I could visibly see a change in the ease and fluency I possess with the French language. I continued on, trekking across the city, and down to the waterfront, where I visited a row of antique and souvenir shops. Eventually, after satisfying my curiosity and adventurous spirit, I decided the time had come to dine and make the drive back towards Montreal. I found a quaint restaurant, adjacent to the Chateau, where I dined on delicious vegetable soup and an apple-cinnamon crepe. Satisfied, I strolled back to my car and set off for Montreal. En route, I recounted the day’s events in my mind and continued on, with a sense too complex and personal to qualify with words. Suffice it to say, I left Quebec City with a feeling of gratitude for and awe of not only the beauty that surrounded me throughout the day, but also the personal journey I found myself on. Though the excursion was brief, I traveled on knowing that despite this fact, I was able to sail past my reservations and boundaries, expanding those very limitations I’d previously placed on myself.

The following day, I visited two churches in Montreal: L’Oratoire de St. Joseph and La Basilique Notre Dame. The Oratory, which sits atop Mont Royal, provides spectacular views of the Montreal landscapes. The inner chapel was small, but inviting, drawing images of what I would imagine a European countryside chapel to look. The Basilica was perhaps the greatest surprise to me, as its modern architecture and simple room décor were quite the stark contrast from the great chapels I’ve seen in the past. Descending the stairs from the Basilica, to my left I found a Nativity museum, where Nativity scenes from various cultures and regions were arranged together to showcase the very beauty of art and its associated mediums; sculptures of clay, statues of wood, paintings of oil, and figurines of shell, among others, made up the unique displays. I completed the trip with a visit outside, ascending the Basilica steps, in order to capture fantastic views of the island of Montreal. Descending the steps of the oratory, thoughts of awe and inspiration spiraled through my mind. My thoughts rested on the fact that the oratory is a shining example of the power of devotion and passion held by numerous individuals – the very tangible result of the very best in human nature. I turned and marveled one last time at the beauty of its interior and exterior and ventured across the city towards the Notre Dame Basilica.

The stone support pillars just outside the front entrance of the Notre Dame Basilica provide the illusion of an invisible barrier, between the relatively harsh city life and the sanctity of the church itself. Walking through the physical gates, I entered an ornate wooden door, and through to the inner chapel. What greeted my eyes was nothing short of breathtaking. Ornate stained glass and intricate wood works were abundant throughout the interior, with a small staircase (with its own elaborate design work) spiraling up the left side to upper levels. I walked down the center aisle, after snapping several photographs, and gazed in absolute splendor at the sight before me. A concaved wall of stained glass provided a magnificent backdrop for the altar straight ahead. Behind me, the largest organ I have ever seen stood perched on the third floor. After taking a few more photographs, I walked to the back and sat down on a pew. I reveled in the sheer beauty and was (and still am now, in recounting the experience) rendered speechless: I literally sat transfixed for several moments, unable to capture in words the sheer brilliance of the sight before me. A short while later, I exited the building, more inspired and amazed at the positive influences of human nature.

The final week in Montreal passed by as quickly as the first. I hailed this visit for the numerous “firsts” it provided me: I experienced my first winter snowstorm, my first solitary road trip, and even my very first lonesome dining experience. What I have gained from the entire experience, I do not believe I could ever properly assign words to, for the faith and focus it has restored to my life cannot truly be qualified in mere words. I realize these revelations (particularly because I’ve been unable to formulate words to describe them adequately) may not come across as astounding or inspiring as they are felt here in my heart and mind; I hope, however, that through my words and images (which, if you haven’t seen, feel free to ask for), I have been able to convey the very deep meaning this entire journey has had to me. Though two weeks, in relation to the lifetime one has, seems undeniably short, I’ve realized in that very same amount of time that one is capable of accomplishing more than he or she could ever imagine. Ultimately, the beauty of human nature, I’ve determined, is the unpredictability that it brings into each of our lives. Nine months ago, I identified personality traits that begged for attention; six months ago, I realized, though I’d intended to pay particular attention to these points of amelioration, I’d done a seemingly poor job of doing so; three months ago, I came to the conclusion that the detour from the road I’d laid for myself was acceptable; one month ago, I was surprised to see that, although I had veered from the path I’d imagined myself traveling, the one I’d taken ultimately stationed me at the same end point; and now, I sit here knowing that in spite of the six-month detour I eventually found myself having taken, I have grown more than I could have ever imagined. And it is ultimately with this in mind and heart that I bid Montreal a bittersweet farewell.

Re-Evaluation

2008-10-18T23:15:00.000-07:00

It is an interesting experience, revisiting thoughts I've penned in the past, and realizing that they inevitably still hold true today. In the previous six months, I've traversed an unexpected path that, I admit, has led me a bit astray. I mean not, in saying this, that I was enticed by sins or committed notable transgressions; instead, I've found myself a bit removed from my initially intended goal of bettering very specific bits and pieces of myself. This deviation, however, has allowed me to reinforce the notion that all experiences can be deemed learning ones; therefore, I suppose I could argue that not only have I fulfilled this goal of bettering myself, but perhaps even succeeded in ameliorating those aspects I did not even recognize as viable in the past. In this respect, the 6-month road I've traveled was indeed tangent to the one I'd intended to travel: I've learned valuable lessons regarding several key aspects of life; specifically, however, the ones that have affected me significantly have been those highlighting relationships, human emotion, and the importance of the boundaries that exist in not only defining these relationships, but one could argue, all aspects one's life.

Inherently, we, as human beings, must be cognizant of the relationships we form, as well as the extent of human emotion and intellect that defines the boundaries that exist in these relationships. I've found, in the past, this to be a bit of a cloudy area, specifically because I've seen the relationships in my life, as well as the value I place on them, changing significantly over the past several years. Of course, I note this not as a negative experience; rather, the opposite is true - I've found it to be quite the enlightening journey, tracing from my relative youth, in which I naively sought and categorized relationships, to a turning point (which I define as the moment in time when the realization that I could not create and sustain relationships with every lingering soul in my life set in), to the present, where I consistently struggle to understand and evaluate the rapports, friendships, and connections I make on a day-to-day basis. I confess that this struggle is far less conflict-ridden than the previous statement may make it seem; nevertheless, I've seen it as a significant source of growth over the years.

I realize the above may hold quite little value to those of you who are reading. However, the mere act of penning my thoughts have provided a cathartic release from the journey we call life. Though I did not envision myself taking this very path over the last six months, I've learned that the end outcome was quite similar to the initial I had imagined. That, in and of itself, has provided me a sense of relief over the guilt that I've managed to riddle myself with over this same amount of time. With this realization, I still intend to make concrete this plan to become more like those whom I admire in life; however, I believe I've stumbled across a very tangible example of the prime, oftentimes underestimated, character trait of life: its lack of predictability. With the end of the year fast approaching, I fully intend to fulfill the promise I made to myself so many months ago, just in time to embark on the path to this subtle, albeit much desired, transformation, with the resolution season in the new year.

The Pre-Plan

2008-04-02T18:52:00.000-07:00

Oftentimes, I’ve come to ponder whether I, myself, am far ahead of my time. I do not make such a declaration to imply that I possess brilliant ideas or thoughts that will revolutionize the world (though, I should add here that I indeed would like to revolutionize the world J). Instead, I say this to possibly qualify the experiences I have had in the recent past.

I’ve found that I embody personality traits that are perhaps far from those that characterize one’s typical concept of a 20-something in today’s society: I prefer to stay at home, rather than explore the seemingly unattractive haunts of debauchery. I prefer to nurture the introvert who I have discovered and learned to accept of late, rather than perpetuate a façade of the opposite. I prefer to identify and appreciate the intricacies of my interests and goals, rather than discount them as lofty or unfeasible. Understandably, I do not mean to imply that those of my age and generation are apt to consider such a point of view about their own, as well as others’, ambitions. I do, however, believe such a train of thought is rampant in our society, transgressing all demographical barriers, which lends to latent individuals who drudge about their monotonous lives, without ever striving for their every dream.

I am again swayed to referencing this procession of behavior and thought patterns that I have deemed a personal journey to self-discovery and appreciation. Unfortunately and perhaps thankfully, I am nowhere near being definitively happy with the person I have become and see myself becoming. That is not to say, of course, that I am unhappy. I have found I have surpassed the border of the former (happy) and the latter (unhappy); indeed, I’ve been teetering for many months, perhaps years, to the right of this invisible boundary, approaching the verge of utter bliss, but admittedly falling quite short. I am convinced that this unfortunate gap will be filled in the (hopefully) near future. In all, I suppose I am declaring that I have finally found peace of mind and self-acceptance in understanding that I must embark on this journey to truly appreciate myself as an individual, in a society and age when, on the whole, many possess dismal levels of self-confidence and appreciation. I’ve decided through experiences that this concept is absolutely vital in approaching life with an open mind and heart and building relationships with care and consideration.

I suppose I should verbalize the fear that I’ve spoken these words previously and perhaps my words do not hold true merit, if I do not develop a “game-plan” of sorts, in order to actually embark on this journey I have defined the purpose of for so seemingly long. I am absolutely of the belief that words cannot hold merit until actions can be used to qualify them. Thus, I have decided to develop this actual process further, to offer myself a concrete plan of action that I can pursue further; and I am now determined to present this timeline in my subsequent postings here. Stay tuned J

The Identity...Crisis?

2008-03-18T21:06:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in my previous post, I've had, lately, several thoughts course through the maze in my head. Upon added scrutiny, with a tad bit of introspection on the side, I've determined that I'm currently in the midst of an involved process to understand myself, to essentially clarify my identity at its core.

I entered college some five-odd years ago, a naive and uninformed teenager. In retrospect, I suppose this is a common occurrence amongst those in my then situation, and I do not regret my lack of life experience prior to that point. One often hears others describe college as the "best time of one's life;" I'd beg to differ to a certain extent, but one thing I cannot deny is that the experience has truly shaped me in a profound manner. I deviate from this description of college simply because I've come to believe it's founded on the principles of near-superficiality (at times, not always - I agree) and relationships. Now, please do not confuse my intention in the previous statement - I am not discounting the importance of some degree of superficiality in one's life (I'll readily admit I, myself, have a number of guilty pleasures), nor am I claiming to discredit the significant role that relationships play in our day-to-day affairs. What I am stating, however, is my interpretation of the intent behind this often-uttered cliche. I've found that the so-called "best time of one's life," for me, was not due to the number or quality of the relationships I developed and maintained through my experiences; understand that this does not mean that I de-value these relationships - the contrary is true, I've developed lasting friendships with a number of individuals.

My experiences have dictated a continuous change in the philosophy I utilize in living life. This direct shift has been a relatively moderately-paced process, in that after 5.5 years, I've come many steps closer to understanding and appreciating the, to use an already over-used term, "real me." I am nowhere near having a transparent view into the inter-workings of my mind; however, I can readily recount my likes and dislikes, how I perceive others and how I'd like to be perceived, and the significance of being on this journey, so to speak, at this point in my life. I understand now that there exists not an identity crisis so much as an identification process, the subtle difference being that the latter provides the connotation of an evolution that benefits the individual. I look forward to exploring this primitively-developed idea further in the coming months (perhaps years), and I hope that it urges the emergence of, both internally and externally, a more confident and comfortable person.

2008-03-13T22:38:00.001-07:00

More to come, as I gather my thoughts, but I've decided to re-embark on the self-discovery/amelioration journey. There are too many things I'd venture to modify in my behaviors, attitudes, and actions - what better way than to create some mode of accountability, however personal it may be.

A reflection

2008-02-22T12:52:00.000-08:00

A little less than one week has passed since I've returned from a greatly life-altering experience. I've come close to expressing such a sentiment in the past; however, in reflection, I'm quite positive that my three weeks in India have opened my eyes to many, many things. Not only am I convinced that we are truly, truly blessed individuals on many accounts, but the desire to connect with my heritage, culture, and history has reinvigorated in me the familiar sense of wonder and excitement in broadening my intellectual horizons.

One of the more pleasant aspects of traveling to India is visiting with my extended family members, all of whom I get to see undesirably infrequently. Surprisingly, most of my maternal grandmother's eight siblings live within the city limits of Kolkata. Her youngest sister resides in one of the most culturally, historically, and most importantly, religiously significant part of the city: Kalighat. Here, locals and foreigners alike flock to catch a glimpse of the Goddess Kali and offer donations of fruit, vegetables, sweets, and money in hopes of atoning for their mortal sins.

One evening, my grandmother and I stepped off a bus and walked through the main street which is forcefully dead-ended at the Kalighat police station, through lines and lines of street vendors, selling items ranging from religious pendants, statues of gods and goddesses, fruits, vegetables, snacks, medicines and associated medical supplies, cosmetics, and nightwear. The noisy hubbub of this free-for-all market was no different than that present in perhaps all of Kolkata.

We slipped into a side street, and took an immediate left into a side alley that transported one to a netherworld so quiet, one would hardly remember the frenzy and chaos he/she left behind. After a few zigs and zags, I found myself waiting at a vendor's stall for my grandmother to purchase some paans, a leaf that is usually filled with tobacco-laced materials or candied fruits and fennel seeds and used as a mouth-freshener (though, paan filled with the former becomes an addictive substance, much like cigarettes and snuff). As I glanced to the left, I realized we were in the ruins of an abandoned building. Darkness had fallen in the last hour, and two vendors sat across from each other atop plastic sheets on risen, brick-laden surfaces, discussing their days' sales and current affairs. Looking above them, I noticed a make-shift plastic ceiling, flopping in the barely-there wind, the clear night sky (a welcome treat after its previously cloudy predecessor) staring back at me. Next to me, in the dim light of a candle, my grandmother carried on a brief conversation with the paan seller, subsequently paid him, and we took off.

These moments provided me with a sort of alternate-reality. Being in the United States, one hardly finds sights like those in foreign lands. Public transportation is favored over private vehicles (though the latter have gained quite the following in India, it seems), and coupled with walking on foot, it provided perspectives of the day-to-day lives of the Indian citizens. On one particular day, my aunt and I boarded a bus, with the intention of visiting New Market, one of the oldest market and theater districts in Kolkata. En route, we came upon a moderately-large lake, over which our bus traveled. Standing in between the crowded seats of the bus, I stole a few glances out of the window. Brick and clay huts lined the banks of this body of water. Clothes flapped freely in neat lines outside each one, hoping the prominently present sun left the fibers and threads of each one dry. As we passed over the bridge and continued on our way to a sprawling market, my thoughts drifted to the occupants of those earthy abodes, their clothes drying so they can be worn for another day of hardships and tribulations that these individuals habitually face. Again, as was all too often throughout my trip, I was left with a familiar sense of helplessness, a feeling that I've routinely encountered here even in the States upon seeing a homeless individual.

I find it interesting and amazing that though my previous trip was four short years ago, and there were no remarkable or eventful differences in the two visits, I've come to appreciate the more recent one in various lights. Perhaps it is due to some personal growth in the more recent years, or perhaps I had merely forgotten how I felt after my previous visit. And here, I have found another useful attribute of my writings; along with providing you with mental photography, I hope it also serves as a personal reminder of the significant experience I've had. I suppose the topics I've outlined below can serve as overarching themes of my writings regarding my visit. And though I have not posted any actual pictures or enough words to correspond to my three-week trip, I suspect I will present to you (and myself) bits and pieces of memories, as they appear in my mind, over the course of the next few weeks.

I'm leaving on a jet plane...

2008-02-20T16:51:00.000-08:00

Judging by the previous posts, it seems I've had nothing of value to say since the end of November. Though somewhat true, I suppose it would have been valuable to note the thoughts and feelings of a university graduate. However, given the grief and pain the entire process of getting a bachelor's degree has cost me, I can easily sum up that the life of a university graduate is fabulous, and the transition to the real world (thus far) has only been rewarding. I've managed to travel through the northeastern United States, bum around at home, and venture out half-way across the globe and return all in one piece, with new-found values, ideals, and thoughts that can only be the results of eye-opening experiences.

As I've been quite the unproductive writer, I am now forced to chronicle my journey to my motherland in a few retrospective posts. I apologize for the length (I hesitate to say whether these can be categorized as short or long musings, as they are not proportional to my time in India) in advance. I hope that the brief descriptions I present will provide you with a tapestry of images, as seen through my eyes, for the past three weeks. This has been an experience that has affected me to the very core and has fueled my desire to appreciate every aspect of my life and existence. I should also lastly note that I will likely add to these thoughts in the subsequent days, as I readjust to the time change, the reappearance of television, and sorting through my thoughts and memories.

In the meantime, I suggest beginning with the post entitled "A traveler's prelude" for a synopsis of my trip.

Ruminations

2008-01-27T12:00:00.000-08:00

The dreary weather continued for the next day, which in turn caused me to wonder whether I have some unwanted affinity towards unnatural weather conditions (my previous trip was characterized by a lack of precipitation during what is normally the rainy season). That afternoon, my siesta subsequently turned into a full-fledged sleep, which coincided with night time in the States. Still, I happily returned to bed, under a cotton-filled down comforter, and found myself asleep in no time. The following day, I forayed into the city with my grandmother, and it is from this experience that I noted the following:

I miss:
.controlled traffic
.proper (dry) bathrooms
.driving
.my family
.my puppy
.television
.the Internet

Memorable experiences of the day:
.Mosquitoes: It seems these extremely annoying insects whose place in the food chain of living creatures I'll never quite understand are prevalent at all times here. On my second day, I awoke to find evidence of their annoyances on the only exposed areas of my body: my face and hands, a lovely discovery, as these are perhaps the first two places that people place their eyes upon.

.Traffic: My immediate thought upon boarding a bus dealt with discerning how the vehicles are able to cooperate amongst all the chaos. With no clear lane demarcation, the roads are a melee of cars, buses, auto-rickshaws, rickshaws, bicyclists, and pedestrians. Blinkers are carelessly abandoned and adopted instead are the cacophonous horns that blare from every vehicle, regardless of whether there are any obstacles present in their way. Brakes are employed at, what seems to me, the very last moment, forcing the gaps between vehicles to be a mere inches. At several points during my daily outings, I am sure I could have shaken the hands of passengers in neighboring vehicles. Coupled with pedestrians who stroll into the middle of traffic (which seems to be the norm, as well as something I have been guilty of), this erratic, uncontrolled system should, under all laws of logic, fail; but somehow, it succeeds. I hardly doubt that even congested, bustling cities like New York could hold a candle to the frenzy I've witnessed on a daily basis. Let alone that were I even able to, I doubt very much that I'd drive here.

.Cell phones: A very amazing phenomenon presented itself to me in my daily outings: the prevalency of cell phones throughout the city, across all economic levels. It seems the latter are no obstacle in owning this rather convenient device, as I have seen so many individuals with one attached to their ears (even a rickshaw driver, who likely makes the equivalent of a meager $5 daily). Even half-way around the world, some things truly never change!

.Poverty: Riding through the streets of the city provide for a view of the everyday lives of its people. The stark reality of the extreme levels of poverty becomes very apparent through every part of the city; even outside one of the poshest new city malls, beggars sit, hoping for spare change, while food vendors serve their creations to the city's wealthier citizens. Tattered clothes, homes in shambles, barely a shoe on every foot, these individuals are on the streets each day, attempting to earn a living. Whether it's selling food in baskets atop their heads or in street stalls, cleaning and polishing shoes of the passersby on the sidewalks, or working in the homes of the more fortunate, I've found these individuals in possession of an amazing resilience and desire to live their lives as best as they can.
Of course the truly destitute exist, and these individuals rely on others' mercy, begging for just a few rupees. Walking through the streets of one of Kolkata's oldest markets, I came upon a woman who, dressed in a tattered and stained white sari, one end of which she draped over her head, walked around with her arm outstretched. Most everyone ignored her silent please, though a few did meet her appeals. They were rewarded perhaps with personal satisfaction and a gracious nod from the silent woman. Her plight is a common one, not only in Kolkata, but throughout the country of India. I often find myself wondering what deep sin each committed to warrant such a meager existence.

.Stray animals: The neighborhoods of Kolkata are littered with litters of cats and dogs at every turn. To an animal lover, it is especially disheartening to see them in their squalid existences, roaming the streets, in search of scraps of food and companionship, no doubt. On several occasions, I was amazed to see dogs spread across sidewalks, with the bustling world around them, their oblivious nature apparent in their unflinching slumber. Cats roam the streets in equal numbers, though they seem to be more elusive to the eye. Their tales provide a similarly different perspective of the lives of the poor in this country - they cannot find good homes, when their potential owners are forced to live in single-story, one-to-two bedroom brick and mud bungalows, with sheets and tarps for windows. Though sympathetic to their plight, I found myself torn in dividing my sympathies, as it became quite difficult to feel pity for these creatures when men with appendages for limbs sat on the sidewalks of markets asking for spare change, when children tugged on our clothes and pointed to food at a nearby stall, and when women roamed with arms outstretched, all hoping to sustain their lives for one more day.

My journey

2008-01-25T12:00:00.000-08:00

My trek here was uneventful, with perhaps the only highlight being a brief and unexpected sighting of George Abbey (former Center Director of the Johnson Space Center) at the Houston airport. A few of you will be excited to hear that the extrovert in me blossomed enough to befriend two strangers throughout my journey, which provided a brief rupture from the usual monotony that accompanies solo-traveling. I should note here that I was duly surprised at the number of foreigners traveling to the City of Joy; though I suspect with its rich culture and historical significance, the city does have a lot to offer its tourists.

Having arrived in Kolkata, I waited for my baggage and wondered, with some apprehension I must confess, about the impending duration of my travels in my motherland. My previous trip was plagued with jet-lag fueled slumber, unimaginable heat, and unwanted boredom, and so I did not know quite what to expect at present. Thankfully, all fears concerning the weather were allayed as I stepped outside and was greeted by a breeze I interpreted as pleasant.

En route to my temporary home at a quarter to two in the morning, I noted the absolute stillness present in the night. The bustling city was at rest, its lights and sounds at a bare minimum, presenting a contrast undoubtedly unseen by even many of its inhabitants. The cool breeze snuck in through the partially open driver's window, and I welcomed it in the midst of the stuffiness that comes with five people in a car with no internal cooling system.

The familiar signs of impending slumber signaled to me that perhaps I would not be plagued with the same jet-lag I experienced during my previous visit. We arrived soon at the home I've known for the better portion of my 23 years. The three-story abode, with its pale yellow exterior and pistachio green metal bars, welcomed me still after so many years. The speckled red marble felt cool to the touch, even through socks, as I parted ways with my shoes on the veranda. Tiny drops of precipitation caused the short walk from the taxi to the door to be colder than I'd expected, though in hindsight I believe the majority of the chill could have been attributed to the nearby open bodies of water. As I stepped through the doorstep, the memories of years past came vividly back: memories of reading on the veranda on hot summer days, memories of my brother's childhood fall on the steps, memories of what I later knew to be the last time I would see my grandfather in this house. Being on the move for a fair portion of my life, I doubt I've ever known the value of memories in a home as I do here. Even now, as I sit here with my pen furiously scribbling on paper, years after his death, I faintly catch the aroma of my grandfather's snuff, a wisp of a sentiment that causes me to pause and smile. The air I breathe here has no distinct aroma to anyone else, but to me, its fragrance brings with it all the reflections of my childhood. With this in mind, I happily unpacked my belongings that night and prepared for bed.

A traveler's prelude

2008-01-24T12:00:00.000-08:00

The sun shines on the windowsill, as I gaze out the open door into the tiny field of weeds and wildflowers that inhabit my grandparents' back doorstep, as I reflect on the last 72 hours of my life. My emotions regarding this trip have truthfully been scattered; but sitting in the room I've slept in numerous times in years past, with books strewn and a blanket covering my cold, sock-covered feet, I feel a familiar tug in my heart of the strings that perhaps figuratively control its beats. Last night, as I waited outside to be let in the locked front door, I stole a glance upward towards the clearest sky I've seen in days. There was Mars, staring straight back at me, its orange hue easily discernible amongst the white-colored stars. Even half-way around the world, I stood in awe of the crisp beauty of the night sky. Even here, in a place so vastly different from the haunts I frequent at home, it yields a magnificent view of our planetary neighbor.

After a stolen yet lingered look, I came inside and immediately prepared for a long-awaited, much-needed rest, but not before jotting down a few notes about my day, gallivanting around the streets of Kolkata. It's from these and all subsequent notes that I'll attempt to recount my time here in the city of my birth. I hope that my words are able to create a tapestry of images that reflect my experiences, views, and perspectives here in the next few weeks. You will, however, have to forgive any omissions in this process, as I've come to find my short-term memory failing me these days (a discovery I blame on engineering).

2007-11-30T00:15:00.001-08:00

And so it is that the undergraduate academic career draws to a thankfully-foreseeable close, as I am left here pondering the next step. I've come to the conclusion that I must confine myself to some sort of a degree program, in order to acquire the additional knowledge I feel I failed to acquire during the last five and a half years. The discipline that such structure provides will undoubtedly enable me to exercise the right portion of my brain, one which has long been under-appreciated.

Therefore, starting either next fall or the following spring, I've decided to pursue an MA in Humanities. In addition, next summer I will enroll in French language courses. I'm quite confident that these steps will help me progress my personal agenda of bettering myself. In due time, I hope to see the implications of these actions, though I'm confident that this will only lead me in the positive direction.

Productivity & Patience

2007-11-18T22:46:00.000-08:00

In hindsight, I've concluded that my productivity and patience in the past few weeks (in truth, I should say months) have been quite low. Low productivity can quite easily be attributed to a high level of apathy (inversely proportionate, if you will); I have not yet been able to identify the source of low patience. Nevertheless, I feel it's more important to identify the underlying issue, rather than its cause, in this situation; and thus, I've decided to actively work towards mitigating both issues this week.

As Thanksgiving approaches, I'm reminded that I am embarking upon the "home stretch," if you will allow me to use a quaint baseball analogy. From tomorrow forward, until December 17th, I have quite the full load, attempting to survive several exams, presentations, and papers. A high level of productivity will be an essential tool in completing my tasks in a timely and successful manner, particularly when dealing with examinations. Given the scores I received after the last round, I am definitely motivated to earn better marks; however, the one hesitation I have (and thus far, I should promise myself to not let this hinder my studying) is that I feel as if I just do not understand the material presented. I am not sure whether this is due to the fact that I am in the unenviable position of studying a subject I more or less loathe, or whether the aforementioned high levels of apathy have somehow caused my brain to turn itself off. Whatever the cause, I hope that this new focus in increasing productivity will have positive effects on my grades and allow me to complete the final weeks of my undergraduate career with renewed forte and pride (as you will agree, completing a course of study which has plagued your very nightmares - perhaps an exaggeration - should be cause for much excitement).

As a rather unimportant day looms near, I cannot help but feel that fresh beginnings are in order. A new approach to life will be quite welcome with the close of another year. As the saying goes, "patience is a virtue," and so I am convinced the new year should begin with attempts at increasing my own capacity for patience. In recent times, I have found myself quite frustrated or angry quite easily. What is interesting to note here is that I distinctly recall spending the previous year fighting off any sign of aggression quite easily, not allowing myself to channel any negative energy into my life, whenever any faint trace of it appeared. I think now that perhaps the reactions as of late are a counter-action to those I previously possessed; perhaps I am now just releasing all the aggression I subconsciously stored through the past months. Nevertheless, I believe recognizing this very fact is integral in attempting to mitigate this very issue; and so, I will place special emphasis on recognizing any hint of the negative in all aspects of my life this next week. In so doing, I hope to allow my mind to recognize this pattern in the future and thereby incorporate this recognition process into everyday thought.

I intend to track my progress in this grandiose endeavor as time travels on. I, of course, expect to veer of the path ever so often; but, I hope that by penning these thoughts, I will be able to utilize them effectively in the future, as I attempt to become the person I continually strive to be.

Acclimated Changes

2007-11-17T21:33:00.000-08:00

For days I've contemplated the idea of chronicling my thoughts once again, and for days I've been excited at the prospect. It's an interesting state, though, when one sits down to write, and one's brain is overcome with so many, many thoughts that it's quite difficult to sort through them and present them in a coherent and cohesive manner. I, of course, will try my best.

A number of years ago (and what now, I must confess, feels like an eternity), I was quite the amiable soul, considering many to be my confidantes. Coming from a diverse background, growing up in various places, I always considered myself cultured and experienced. What I failed to realize was that merely speaking multiple languages, merely identifying myself with a rich culture, merely being taught life's lesson, could never replace the power, the effect of living life. After surviving my fair share of experiences, I have crossed the figurative bridge and look upon the other side of the water with intrepid admiration, for these experiences have shaped the person I have become and the person I continue to be. And I now know that this bridge is the first of many, on this journey of life.

Nevertheless, having encountered many figurative demons and angels alike, I've decided to further develop myself - to strive to be the person I envision myself to be, to strive to emulate those whom I have come to admire. In so doing, I hope to better myself and mitigate those qualities I find less than favorable, while elevating those which I consider to be the opposite.

And so, I've decided to embark upon this quest, rejuvenated by a thought-provoking quote I came across yesterday. When asked what someone's favorite part of the day is, he replied, "The moment my head hits the pillow. That's when I close my eyes and decide if I'm the person I meant to be when I got up."

Enthralled upon reading it, I quickly connected the underlying idea of the response to my own desire to ameliorate myself. It caused me to muse on the notion of perception, not only one's perception of others and vice versa, but more importantly, one's perception of oneself. I am constantly wondering if I have developed into the person I would like to be. At such an early point in my life, when many opportunities and life experiences await me, I know that though the conclusion to my musings is negative, I can easily work to change. In the past few days, these thoughts have invaded my non-academic related waking hours (which, I assure you, currently is quite a small number...I'm certain, however, that this does not trivialize them one bit). I'm grateful that this recognition and desire for change has manifested itself in me so intently. I believe it will be quite the test of patience and focus, to see the culmination of my efforts in due time. I hope I'll come to treasure these ruminations in retrospect some odd years in the future, indeed only if I've come to better myself, as I claim I so greatly want. Until then, I suspect I will use this space to chronicle my thoughts and come to conclusions that I otherwise would have difficulty in drawing, sorting through the tumultuous maze of thoughts present in my mind at any given time.