Comparison is the thief of joy.

If someone were to ask me on the street what my worst quality was, I would say my tendency to compare myself to others. I'm a pretty type-A, driven person. Yet I can't help but compare my accomplishments and progress (or lack thereof) to others'.

But isn't this an integral human flaw? It's far more rare to find someone who is completely sure of themselves than to find someone who is self-conscious. Self-consciousness is almost a pre-requisite to function in society today--we have grown to distrust or even inherently dislike those who display too much confidence. 

And why? Shouldn't we be applauding those who have come to embrace their flaws and focus on their accomplishments? Or are we too proud to give our peers a pat on the back?

Sometimes we need to take a step back and remind ourselves that we don't have to be doing what everyone else is doing. While we may be the same age as someone else, we are in entirely different circumstances. We all have overcome different hardships. We have endured both setbacks and successes. 

It's easy to say, "Stop comparing yourself to others." I am not a preacher (and if I was, I would be preaching more to myself than to anyone). Yet little reminders can never hurt. 

Comparison is our main tool of measurement as humans. We've been taught to compare and contrast since we opened our eyes. We compare prices, sizes of watermelons and great works of literature. It's only natural that we compare ourselves to others. 

A certain quote comes to my mind whenever I find myself dwelling too much on my insecurities: "Don't compare your beginning to someone else's middle."

Everyone has different goals, expectations, hopes and dreams. I realize that I may not meet my goals as quickly as someone else. Yet that doesn't make that goal, or me, any more insignificant than that person. There are so many delicate details that allow one to reach their goals, or even a bit of happiness, that we can't even begin to compare ourselves to others. 

It's simply unfair. 

College is a breeding ground for comparison-making. I have so often felt the tinge of insecurity when I hear that someone has completed a paper far earlier than me or when someone else has scored their dream internship. 

College has taught me you can't always be first in your class; you won't always be the first-choice candidate for the job; and you won't be invited to every party. College has taught me that it's okay if you're not always first. 

The struggle is what gives us strength. 

Fight the urge to compare yourself to others. With a little hard work, we'll all get there in due time.

The expiration date.

There's nothing quite like the holiday season. The commercialization of it all urges us to think about Christmas in July and transforms Black Friday into Grey Thursday. There is the stress of whether UPS and FedEx will hold up their promises to deliver your family's gifts on time (but to remember that those drivers have families too). Family dinners and holiday parties with people you haven't seen in years hold the promise of awkward encounters and forced conversations. 

Yet there is something magical about this time of year. I'm sure that will all change once I enter the working world and that thing called "winter break" ceases to exist. There will no longer be as much time to dwell on the most minute details of the holiday season. 

There will no longer be as much time to spend with family and friends. Somehow, I'm not afraid--perhaps the greatest lesson I've learned in the past few years is to cherish the time that you do have. 

I consider myself lucky. I'm so lucky my parents gave me the opportunity to go to school 3,000 miles from home--possibly the furthest I could go away without leaving the country. I'm lucky to have them welcome me back every winter and summer break with arms that have been longing for one more hug. I'm lucky that despite the fact that I spend three-quarters of each year away from home, that it has only made me appreciate it more. 

Some people say that they couldn't ever leave home, that they couldn't ever imagine living farther than a two minute drive away from their boyfriend. 

Yes, the distance is heartbreaking. It tears at every fiber of your being, consumes your every thought until you feel numb. You must summon every last bit of strength you have to turn away and take that first step towards that train or airplane that separates you from the ones you love. 

You feel empty. You feel alone. In that moment, you've never been so alone in your entire life.

Yet there's always the promise of tomorrow. There's so much to look forward to in this great life we lead; there's so much life left to live. 

The distance and the goodbyes it requires may cause some of the worst pain I have ever felt. But it has also granted me the greatest happiness. I can't begin to describe what it feels like to be jerked back into my seat once the plane touches down on the tarmac, how loudly my heart beats as I walk towards the arrivals gate. 

That first embrace, that first kiss after almost four months is the greatest gift I could ever ask for. My holiday season is no longer about comparing Christmas gifts or counting party invitations--it's about cherishing the time that I have with the ones that I love. 

For now, that time does have an expiration date. It must always come to an end. I don't know if that will change once graduation day comes, but one thing is sure--I don't have to know. 

All that I know is that in this moment, I am choosing to live. I am choosing to appreciate this moment in my life for what it is. 

There really is nothing quite like being home for the holidays. 

Alone time.

One thing that I am constantly working on is being alone. In college, it can be easy to fall prey to the worry that if you're not with friends at all times, there's something wrong with you. I've heard stories from my friends (and I must admit, I have done it too) that they would rather stay in their room starving instead of picking up dinner alone. 

At home, it's so much easier for me to feel okay with curling up with a good book and a blanket for the entirety of an afternoon. Yet in college, spending a few hours alone leads to worries that you're missing out. It leads to feelings of uncertainty, and painful pangs of homesickness. 

I fell prey to these feelings all too frequently my freshman year. At my college, students typically live close by, which means that they go home often. I found myself many a weekend with only one or two roommates instead of the usual nine that I had my first year. 

Yet it was this alone time that led me to step outside my comfort zone my freshman year. I got involved with new organizations, and made many more friends. Essentially, finding myself alone led me to find myself surrounded by friends at all times. 

As I've grown older, however, I've also grown to appreciate my alone time. I appreciate having the time and space to simply sit and think. I appreciate stumbling across new places on my past commutes home from New York City--they're like my own secret treasures. 

Being alone doesn't bother me as much as it used to. And I know that it's only going to feel more natural with time. 

Sometimes, all you need is to sit back, take a deep breath and enjoy your own company.

//image via Lara Casey

When it's time to say goodbye.

Saying goodbye to someone is one of the strangest, most difficult exchanges one can have as a human being. Of course, I am not one to believe in goodbyes. I will always be the one to correct a friend or loved one: "I'll see you soon. Don't tell me goodbye."

Yet it's difficult to convince yourself that you'll see someone soon, when the logical half of your brain says that four months isn't quite what one would define as "soon." The emotional half attempts to quash theses all too real thoughts--you suppress the inevitable tears and reassure yourself that it is going to be okay. After all, what would you do if it wasn't okay? 

Goodbyes are thought-provoking because you can't dwell on them. You expect such an exchange to be lengthy and emotional. A goodbye should have meaning, it should be memorable. 

But I've learned that you can't force something to be meaningful. Much like New Year's Eve or birthdays as we grow older, goodbyes typically fall short of our expectations. We expect them to be cinematic, with our hair blowing in the wind as our companion launches into a poignant monologue about how much they will miss us. 

We attempt to dismiss these expectations as silly and cliche (that's the logical part of our brains speaking again). Yet as you turn away from the one you're with, you can't help but wonder: is this it? 

This is the part of your story where there should be a climax. You've been thinking about this moment for weeks. You've been trying to spend as much time as possible with those you will soon be leaving, with the thought in the back of your brain that they will be too far away too soon. 

Yet once the time arrives, all that's left to do is say goodbye. You stand there with your arms hanging by your sides, exhaling with a heavy sigh and wonder what else you can do or say. You repeat yourself over and over, trying to console yourself as much as the one you're with. 

Ultimately, you realize that you simply have to let go. Hold on any longer, and you're merely inflicting more pain upon yourself and the one (or many) you love. 

It's like ripping off a band-aid. 

Do it quickly. The pain rushes in, fast and burning. It will linger, but you will not suffer the same numbing pain that comes with a drawn-out goodbye. There is a time to cry. That time is most certainly now. You must not torture yourself. It does not do well to dwell on such a moment; dwell instead on the happy ones. You made those memories for a reason. 

One thing is certain. Goodbyes never get any easier, no matter how many times you say them. Ripping off a band-aid hurts just as much at 63 as it did when you were 3. Yet they do make us stronger; they make us realize what we are leaving behind, what we are so lucky to have and what we will return to. 

I'll see you soon.

//image via Olivia Bee photography. 

Take the time.

Lunch yesterday with my dad at CArtHop.

With every moment that passes, I realize more and more that it's the little things that matter the most. Perhaps my most favorite thing in the world is when I can make someone else smile; it doesn't get any better than that. 

Going to college across the country has been nothing short of a humbling experience. I have grown to learn that the most important thing you spend is not money but time. Even if you can only give someone a few moments of your time, it's automatically better than any present you could buy.

Time is irreplaceable. You can't get it back if you wasted it. You must spend it wisely. 

By giving someone a moment of your time, you're showing that you care. You're showing that they mean something to you. You're spreading love, in its most basic form. And I believe that's the greatest thing that we can do in life, spreading love. 

These days, it seems like its increasingly difficult to manage our time. We believe we never have enough, and yet we still find ourselves spending it on things and people that we could care less about. We become so obsessed with reaching a certain goal, or an ideal life, that we lose sight of what has and continues to support us. 

We look ahead instead of looking around us. 

In my final few days of summer on the west coast, I am trying to spend my time wisely--by spreading love. Family and friends come first. They are my heart, my home. The least I can do is give them a moment of my time. 

August.

A week or so ago, I came across the phrase, "August is to summer what Sundays are to the weekend." Nothing has rung so true for me in quite some time. 

Sundays are one of my favorite days of the week--but the feeling of overwhelming dread is also often inevitable after crawling into bed on a Sunday night. Sundays are meant to be long and lazy--a day of enjoyment and a moment to breathe. Sundays are partnered with homemade pancakes and drives to nowhere. Yet Sundays are also the bittersweet signal that ends the rushed weekend. 

August signals the dog days of summer. Somehow, sunsets seem to take just a little longer to fade. There's a bit of sadness about them, like they're trying to warn you that you won't be able to enjoy many more until next year. The days blur together as they become filled with last-minute lunches and family vacations. Summer's end is on the horizon. 

August has become difficult for me. As I try to soak up the last sun-drenched moments of summer, the thought of my inevitable cross-country venture lurks in the back of my mind. Part of me reminds myself of how much I love autumn in New York, how I can't wait to see all my friends again and move into my first apartment. Yet another part of me wants to run in the opposite direction, determined to reach out for one last California sunset with a certain someone by my side. 

August is bittersweet, like so many other things in life. I think that I've grown to appreciate that bittersweet feeling, however. This summer, more than any other, I've learned from those nearest to me that these feelings shouldn't be repressed. There's a time to be happy, and there's a time to be sad. 

Most importantly, now is still the time to be happy. Now is the time to enjoy moments with those that I love the most. It's time to be here. Now. 

Just keep running.

Everyone has that one something. It's that something that keeps us going day after day, that reminds us to breathe, that settles our racing minds. We need that something to break up our routines to remind us exactly where we are and where we want to be. 

For me, it's running. I've never really considered myself to be a runner, or even to be athletic. While I played tennis all throughout middle school and high school at a competitive level, I just never saw myself as a true 'athlete' (whatever that means anyways). 

However, my college didn't have tennis courts and I quickly got too caught up in getting involved to even think about working out. Last fall, the extent of my athleticism consisted of running from one end of the Times Square subway station to the other as I tried to get to my internship in Chelsea Market on time. 

This past semester my sorority decided to participate in the Bronx Zoo's Run for the Wild 5K to benefit the Wildlife Conservation Society. I decided right away that I wanted to participate, and suddenly I had a goal to work towards. 

I began running almost every day, or at least spending an hour at the gym to get back into shape. I quickly found myself not merely going to run to get it out of the way so I could get closer to being able to complete a 5K in a reasonable amount of time, but to melt away stress from the day. 

Running quickly became my one solace, my time when I didn't have to think about anything except getting in that extra mile. I stopped running because I had to, and started because I wanted to. I loved the feeling of not only being active but the feeling of calmness that came with it. 

I love using running as a means to get away from the daily trivialities of life. It reminds me to strip away excess negativity, and to focus on what matters most to me. I love running because it's so simple, but it can take you so far. I may not yet be a 'runner,' but I do run. 

There's days when I feel like I'm running away from things, and there's days where I want to run towards something as quickly as possible. Life's path may not always be clear, but I'm going to just keep running. 

Monday musings

I just arrived home from a wonderful vacation in Santa Cruz. It reminded me of how beautiful it can be to live simply. Good company, salty air and the sea are all I need. Now I am easing back into the reality of the 100+ degree weather in my hometown with a little Pinterest scouting after being inspired by keeping things simple and classic. 

(via Matchbook Magazine's pinterest page and Liz Schneider's pinterest)

New York or California?

via New York Magazine

It's always interesting to observe the reactions of people from my hometown, and even my home state (California), when I inform them that I go to college in New York. Naturally, the first thought that crosses their mind is how I manage to live in such a bustling city. And this is where I must make my first correction: my college is in Westchester County, just a 25-minute (ish) Metro North ride away from that city. 

While it is difficult for Californians to understand that the state of New York extends beyond Manhattan, they often manage to move on to make further inquiries. 

Do I like it there? Yes. Yes, I do. 

New York is completely different from California, especially the city. No, this is not because I live five minutes away from the beach where I surf every day (though I would like to learn how to surf). It's more so because of the atmosphere of these states--the feeling that you get when first stepping off an airplane there. 

I could list the differences between New York and California for years, but those differences don't hold enough significance to me to do so. I love the two states, and their respective bustling cities, specifically for their differences. 

Moving across the country for college has been a completely humbling experience. I have learned more than I ever have in a classroom by doing so, and I know I have many more years of learning ahead of me. It's daunting to think about the future, and I often do so only in small doses or large-scale goals in response to that feeling. 

Daunting is also precisely the word that comes to mind when my companions ask the inevitable question: Do you think you'll stay in New York forever? 

I know that this is an innocent attempt to make conversation, yet I also can't help but contemplate the question seriously. It is truly daunting to think of yourself staying in one place forever, especially at this age. I do love New York--I love for so many reasons that I can't articulate into words. But my heart is also in California. It's in San Francisco, Orange County and Los Angeles. 

My heart is in a million places at once. A million different interests, passions and dreams. But isn't every 20-something feeling the same thing? It's hard for us to see a clear outline of the future. At this point in our lives, it's more of a blur or perhaps a hopeful mirage. 

I always give the same answer to this question: "I don't know. I'll have to see where life and my work take me." Unfortunately, the bare-faced truth is that we often choose where we live not because it's our idea of utopia but it is where we can make a living. Yet I also compliment this answer with a smile, knowing that this uncertainty promises excitement and adventure. 

I know that I will be happy wherever I end up after college, and throughout the rest of my life. After all, my mother does always say that, "It's not what you have, but what you make of what you have." 

I will continue to fall in love with places I've never been and people I've never met. I will continue to fall in love with New York City and the city of angels. Cities hold memories and dreams. Perhaps it isn't the place we love, but the changes that we see in ourselves as we adapt to these new locales.

I could get used to these changes.