Sunday, January 3, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
During my time in New York, I called The Academy of Art and withdrew from school. I failed to mention that after Phase I, there was a Phase II (getting accepted) and a Phase III (registering). I was scheduled to start February 1st with two classes. I was awarded financial aid. In other words, I was all set to go.
So why did I quit before I even started (wasting money in the process)? The answer to that is I'm not sure. All through the application process, I was nagged by this uneasy feeling. Maybe uneasy is the wrong word, but I couldn't help but feel that this wasn't the right path for me. I never listen to myself, so I started down the path despite the feelings. Part of me wanted to see if I could get in. Another, more prominent part, really wanted to go; to be a student and excel.
But a funny thing happened the last week before Christmas: I had three photo sessions in one weekend. I was out shooting, taking some of the best pictures I have to date and I was doing it without the help of school or the judgement of a professor. Now, I'm not saying that I won't benefit from the critical eye of a seasoned veteran or anyone really, I just don't know if it's worth going $50,000 in debt to get it.
While I was talking to different people about whether to quit or not, I was told that it takes more courage sometimes to NOT do something; to say no. Ultimately, the decision not to go to school was the best decision I could make. How would I, you're run-of-the-mill human girl with no notable super powers, be able to do well at teaching (which, after all, is my job for the foreseeable future), start a business, succeed in school and continue to be an amazing wife and friend? Could I do it? Hell, yes. Do I have to? No. I like the lining of my stomach, just fine thankyouvermuch. I cannot afford to get an ulcer over this. I don't want to lose all these other things that are so precious to me, just to prove to myself that I can do it.
I'm trying not to have the knee-jerk reaction of calling myself a quiter. I never quit anything. Well, maybe the gym and we see how that's turned out. I never withdraw. I never surrender. But at the end of the day, I'm not some gladiator facing a formidable opponent or a soldier fighting against an unknown threat. I'm just living my life. And I've learned that life, like a marriage or a relationship, takes compromise if you want to make it worth living.
Monday, December 28, 2009
So I totally got stuck on a train yesterday. For serious. It was at once awful and an interesting experience. Settle in, you're about to hear a story.
It should be noted that I haven't taken a train ride since the summer and even then was with Mike so I never really had to pay attention. I get on the platform forgetting that the board announces the train's final destination, not the next stop. Like an ass, I hop on the train for North White Plains since that's the next stop I know I have to take. I know this because Mike equipped me with a list of all the stops to White Plains. "The list is reversed when you're coming back home," he says. Duh, I think.
I get on the train heading to North White Plains and what I think is my final destination. I get cozy in a corner with a book and my ipod for the 40 minute trip. Next thing I know, the train is crawling slowly and there is a train really close on my left. I look to my right and see that there is no platform. When I look around me, I see that there are no people and that I'm on a completely empty train. Now, I don't know if you've gathered from reading my blog, but I'm not a calm person. Never have been, never will be. Suffice it to day, I start to freak out.
My default setting for when things like this happen to me is to call Mike. I dial as I begin to walk up and down the train car not sure which direction to take. When he answers, I let loose: "I'm stuck on the train. There is no one on here. I don't know where I am. aldjfwe&&*#$%#!ouowaielnasldhfoasdhfljhasd." (I started to get incomprehensible towards the end there) But it's not Mike, it's his brother, Andrew, and then our friend, Aaron, telling me to calm down; asking me where I am. "I don't know," I say. Meanwhile, I'm trying to get out of the damn train car. It's locked. I start pressing the emergency button but those bastards don't answer.
Suddenly, I see this guy walking next to the train and I knock on the window. I'm surprised at how calmly I'm knocking given that I just had a Stage 3 freakout (out of 5). He looks at me like he's seen this before. I just tell him I'm from out of town.
When I look around, I'm in the middle of a train yard about three blocks from the North White Plains station where I had to apparently get off and transfer to the express train. I have to take this little path, like I'm walking the yellow brick road, all the way back to the train station. I'm a city girl, born and raised, so I'm not a fan of isolated places surrounded by trees. I know that I don't want to wait in this train stop for the next train that comes in an hour. Eventhough there were people there, I wasn't feeling it AND I still wasn't sure whether this was the right station in the first place.
Luckily, I don't have to wait long. Like a pack of knights those three swooped up in a Honda CRV and saved me. I was a little shaken the rest of the night, maybe a little worse for wear, but I can laugh about it now much to my sister's chagrin. Did I mention that I hate trains?