From Quarterlife Crisis to Identity Crisis

I've been thinking a lot about identity lately and what it means when you finally take a look at yourself and realize that you're no longer the person you once thought you were or were always going to be.  For me, this really breaks down into two main facets: where I come from (physically), and where I come from (ethnically).

Being from Hawaii and being native Hawaiian is an incredible thing because the place I grew up is also where I can trace my ethnic identity.  It's where my people come from.  It's where they fought ancient battles and had their religious ceremonies, it's where they were colonized and turned into second-class citizens.  The land itself is intrinsically connected to the native Hawaiian culture, religion, way of life.  And with that identity comes this responsibility -- driven into me by my education at a private boarding school for native Hawaiian kids -- to give back, to serve my community, to make a difference as a native Hawaiian for native Hawaiians.

The thing is...I left.  Ever since I was a little girl I knew I was going to leave one day.  It was something I looked forward to, this opportunity to see the world and experience something so very different from the sand box that was Hawaii to me.  And so when I was 18, I lit out of there as fast as I could and I didn't look back.  I could do that because in my head and my heart, I was always headed back there eventually.  I didn't know when -- it's gone from moving back in my late twenties to early thirties to early forties to when I finally retire -- but I was going to move "home" one day.

And that idea of Hawaii being "home" has been the reason that was possible.  You see, Hawaii is a beautiful place, but it's not an easy place to live as an outsider.  If you don't belong, you're made to feel that way.  It's a very insular community, whether that's admitted or not.  And for the longest time, I knew I belonged to that community, I knew I belonged to Hawaii.  But lately, that's changed.  Over the passed couple of years, little things have been happening to make me acknowledge the fact that...maybe I don't belong to it anymore.  For the most part, those little things have been external, they've been things that have been said to me by others, or the ways others have made me feel.  Because I'm beginning to be treated like an outsider by my own community.  My skin isn't dark enough anymore; my accent isn't thick enough; I'm educated so I think I'm better than everyone; I don't speak my language or practice traditional native Hawaiian culture so I don't understand its needs; I've been gone so long that I don't know Hawaii anymore.  And as recently as yesterday, one of my closest friends treated me like I wasn't native Hawaiian, I hadn't grown up there, I didn't have a clue about how to help with the issues we face, and I therefore had no right to try and serve my community.

And I know I shouldn't let anyone tell me who I am, but sometimes that's easier said than done.

So all of this just got me thinking about who I am now, and if I ever truly want to go home again.  It seems like a simple enough thing -- people move away from home all the time.  But, for me, the question of where I live, where I consider home, is so wrapped up in who I was taught to be, who I thought I was, the responsibilities I was told were mine.

And I just don't know anymore.

A Recap

To say that the past month has been a blessing and a struggle all wrapped into a few weeks would probably be the understatement of my life.  As the bff Kaimi said in the midst of it all: "That's a lot of shit happening in not a  lot of time."  And as I said to everyone else: "When it rains, it fucking pours."

So here's the recap:

• Week 1: One Tuesday night at around 9pm, Nate and I are sort of sitting around doing nothing when I notice that my dog's leg is bleeding.  I look closer and there's a growth on his leg that he's started to chew at (I know, gross, right?).  Given the track record we have with growths on dogs legs -- and the fact that Nate's last dog died because of one -- we immediately rush Finn to the emergency pet hospital.  We're there until about midnight when Finn is released.  They've taken care of the bleeding but tell us to check in with our regular vet about the growth as it could be cancerous.  Awesome.  Also, Finn was up all night long whining in pain and bumping his e-collar around the bedroom.  No sleep.
• Week 2: On Wednesday I quit my job.  On Thursday I started my new internship.
• Week 3: On Monday we take Finn into our vet and they operate on his leg.  The tumor is removed but because of the amount of blood vessels attached to it, the vet's worried that it is in fact cancerous.  I considered hysteria at this point.  We wait all week for test results that don't come.  And then on Friday I get a phone call from my mother at 8:30am.  My grandfather -- the cornerstone of my family and one of the loves of my life -- has passed away.  Cue hysteria now.
• Week 4: I'm in shock.  And when I'm not in shock, I'm a wreck.  With the help of Nate I scrape up enough money to buy a plane ticket home for the services over the weekend.  The Thursday before I leave, I'm at my internship when Nate calls.  Unexpected phone calls have begun to make me hyperventilate but I answer it anyway.  Our house was broken into.  Again.  I leave for my grandfather's funeral on Friday.  Saturday is the worst day of my life.
• Week 5: We find out Finn's tumor is not cancerous.

The thing I have to say about this time in my life is that it's amazing what we think we're too weak to handle, and then the amount to which we can surprise ourselves.  Had all of this occurred six months ago, things would be different.  I was in such a different place in my life and in my mind that I'm not sure how I would have coped, if I would have let others support me as much as they have, if I would have relied on my faith as much as I have been.

It's made me a firm believer that things happen the way they're supposed to happen, even if we can't understand that while we're standing in the midst of a crisis.  And that we are not presented with anything we can't handle.

At this point, I think I could handle it all.  Blindfolded.

In Loving Memory

Papa 
(February 26, 1926 - June 10, 2011)
There are no words to express how much I love you and miss you.  Thank you for everything.

The Long Departure

The first thing you should know when you read this post is that I've never quit anything in my life, ever.  Except for maybe ballet and piano, but I was like, six so that doesn't really count.  I mean, I think I've dropped a grand total of maybe three classes during all my years of education combined.  I've never downright failed at anything either (though the way this has affected my tendency to not try new things for fear of failure is for a new post altogether).  All my life, I've been an above-average student -- until law school -- and a pretty damn good employee.

But I guess there comes a time in everyone's life where that just isn't going to fly anymore.  Enter my current job as an Executive Assistant.

At the start of May, I officially gave my boss notice that June 1st will be my last day at our organization.  And though I've been thinking this through for a while, talking it over with Nate, making plans and preparations so I'm not left wallowing in a pit of unemployed misery, let me tell you, I really thought I was going to puke for the entire week leading up to that conversation.

But the meeting went as well as can be expected I guess when you blindside your boss during what's probably the busiest two months of our year and tell him that he'll be left high and dry and assistant-less in a month.  He asked if there was anything he could do to make me stay.  I said no.  He said that while he wasn't happy about it, he understood.  I said thanks, and I'm sorry.

Truthfully, on some level, I am sorry.  And there's definitely a fair amount of guilt I feel, but that's more because I'm just the type of person that will feel guilty for the fact that it's raining rather than because I should feel guilty about something.  This job just wasn't a fit for me.  It wasn't a fit in ways that a size 3 shoe isn't the right fit for a size 7 foot: so, it wasn't a fit in colossal ways.  And that made it an unhappy place, a draining place and, in the last few months, a pretty toxic place for me.  I came to despise everything about my job and who I was while I was at it and the fact that that person followed me home and became the person I was here in my safe haven too.  This job made me feel like I had nothing going for me, nothing to look forward to other than a paycheck every other week.  It didn't require me to use any skills I thought I possessed, it gave me no indication of what value I held and it just made me feel...useless.

So I finally got up the courage -- and put enough plans in motion --  to quit.

And since that day, I've felt so...liberated. Scared, yes, definitely.  The fear factor is pretty much through the roof at all times.  After all, how will I survive once the money I've saved runs out?  I can't rely on Nate forever, and there's no telling when I'll find another job.  And what about health insurance?  What about paying off my credit card debt?  What about paying my student loans?  What about being a responsible adult, sucking it up, and sticking this job out?  What about all the millions of things you need a paying job to do???

So I'm really, really scared.

But still, nothing compares to having a set date when this job will be over, when the stress of the everyday drudgery will be done, when I won't have to wake up in the morning wondering how I'm going to fail at something or forget something else today.  It's truly like a physical weight is slowly being lifted from my shoulders.  It's incredible.  I finally feel like my life is starting to move again.

And at this point, movement is all I'm looking for.

Our First Place

This will be a short post, mostly because I'm sad and I don't want to think about what I'm thinking about for too long.  But it's here in my head and on the tip of my tongue pretty much all day, so I need to get it out somewhere.

In 2 weeks, Nate and I will be packing up our lives and moving out of our first place together.  And usually you hear about this happening and it's a bittersweet thing -- the couple moves out in order to move on to something bigger and better.  They think about their small, cheap place with tons of charm and smile over it, but they accept that they've grown out of it and it's time to make memories in their next place.

This is not that situation.  Our place is not small, nor is it cheap.  But it does have tons of charm.  It's our perfect first place: 2 bedroom, 1 bath, small-but-not-too-small kitchen with gas range that Nate loves to cook on, bay window looking out into the fenced-in oak-tree-shaded backyard that Finn runs around in, off-street parking, laundry, great landlord, great neighbors, convenient to public transportation, private.  Ours.  We've been here to for 2 years and have made enough memories here that I'm grieving now that we're moving out.

We're moving out to move back in with Nate's mom, to save money so I can get out of debt, so I can take some classes that I've been wanting to take, so we can save money to travel and do the things we've been dreaming of.  And while all of that is amazing and Nate is amazing for even being willing to sacrifice so much for me...I'm still a complete wreck over losing our first place.

It's silly, I know.  It's just an apartment, right?  But it's how I feel.

No One Said It Would Be Easy

About two months ago, when I felt myself emerging out of the funk that had been the six months before, I had all sorts of plans laid out before me.  I had goals about my health, fitness and nutrition, about writing and being more creative, about dedicating time every day to checking in with myself, about appreciating my loved ones more.  I had come up with practices and habits that would help to make me into the version of me I wanted to be.  And I was excited about it.

It's the feeling you get when you first begin any new project.  Things are shiny and new and interesting and you're curious about how it will all turn out.  You make the necessary time to dedicate to this project before all else and you make it work.  For maybe a week.  And then life happens.  And all of a sudden, there's no more time, no more excitement.  Things get back-burnered or put off altogether, and soon you're right back where you started.

And in my case, this is when you start feeling totally disappointed in yourself.  I always seem to take it harder when it's myself letting me down, mostly because I know the choices that went into whatever decision led to the letting-down and I can't ignore the fact that it was mostly just laziness (which is the saddest excuse for anything in the history of the world, by the way).

But this time I'm trying to remind myself that there's something to be said for the fact that this was never supposed to be easy, and it's definitely not supposed to happen overnight.  When you're overhauling your entire life and working to change the very reasons behind your bad habits, set-backs are expected.  When the new habits you're trying to pick up are the exact opposite of everything you're used to doing, you're not going to be comfortable with them right off the bat and you have to leave yourself some wiggle room, cut yourself some slack.  I'm trying to remind myself that this is a process, that it's a bit like trying on clothes -- I'm looking for the right fit, and not everything I pull off the rack the first time around is going to look the way I want it to.  So I just have to put it back and pick something else up (or buy it anyway and get it altered, but enough with this analogy).

So it's okay that I worked out only 2 days during the week when I meant to work out 5 days.  Especially when I rarely ever worked out before that.  And it's okay that I stopped journaling every single day, or haven't been able to cut out all that many calories from my diet.  It's okay that I haven't accomplished every single one of my goals yet.  Yet.  The important thing is to not give up, to not throw in the towel and consider it a lost cause.  Because there are no lost causes (now there's a cliche for you, and you're welcome).  So I'm going to do my best to re-inspire and re-motivate myself this week, and to try and pick up where I left off.

What re-motivates you when you find yourself lagging behind?  Music?  Are there certain songs that just completely invigorate you?  Talking it out with someone?  Having impromptu dance parties in inappropriate places?  Would love to hear any suggestions!

Hanging Out With Myself

One of the things I don't think I've ever been particularly good at is hanging out by myself.  I grew up in a large household and then went on to boarding school where I spent the next six years living in dorms filled with other girls.  I had roommates throughout college and then immediately moved from my last college apartment to a place with Nate.  I've never actually had to spend any significant time alone, so I never really did.

The strange thing is that I'm not an abnormally social sort of person.  I'm probably not even a normally social sort of person.  I'm really more of a homebody; I enjoy spending nights in, eating and hanging out at home.  When I'm not staying at home, I like getting outside of cities and away from crowds (and to me, there's really no such thing as "too far" -- if I can still see buildings, we've got a ways yet to go).  But I enjoy doing all of these things with people, my people.  Nate, my family, my close circle of friends.  I've rarely done a single thing without someone in a long, long time.

I honestly don't really know what I'd do if given the chance, and that's sort of the problem, I guess.  Shouldn't I know?  Shouldn't I know what sort of activities I like to do on my own, and then be able to do them?

As part of the first week of Stratejoy's Joy Equation course, I'm going to have to spend a few hours alone doing something that's meaningful to me, and I'm having the hardest time figuring out what that something will be.  I can't really get out of the city because I'm still not very comfortable driving on freeways (don't worry, after recognizing how this has limited me, I've realized it's something that needs to change), and shopping is out of the question altogether.  My initial thoughts are to either spend my time writing or cooking, since both are things that I value in my life but that have fallen to the wayside over the last few years.  I'm also thinking of trying out a yoga class for the first time (the first time!).

Whatever it ends up being this time around, I'm hoping that hanging out with myself is something I can make a conscious effort to do more of more often.

A Place to Call Home

When I was a kid, I always imagined what my life would be like outside of Hawaii.  As far as I was concerned, I had been born onto a tiny rock in the middle of an ocean and there was a wide, wide world out there just waiting for me to set sail.  As a teenager, I counted the days until my chance came and, when college rolled around, I was gone.

I think it took me until I left Hawaii to realize just how much a part of me that place is.  So much of who I am (almost everything, really) is a direct result of those islands, those people, that history.  I'm fairly certain everyone can say that about their home as well.  

As the years passed though, and I continued to live elsewhere, my connection to Hawaii became a little more frayed.  Yes, I've gone home to visit on average at least twice a year, and yes I still go by my Hawaiian name no matter where I'm living.  But unless I concentrate on it, I don't generally speak with my childhood accent, and unless I've recently returned from a long day at the beach (and where are there any good beaches here anyway?) my skin is shades lighter than it "should" be.  In Hawaii these two things are the initial markers of a local so, without them, I'm often mistaken as a tourist.  It's actually been pretty jarring to be with my older sister or my dad and to be confused as the haole (i.e. non-local) cousin from the mainland.

I think it's caused a bit of an identity crisis for me if I'm perfectly honest.  Particularly compounded with all the cultural identity stuff you're taught as a Native Hawaiian kid going to a Native Hawaiian school and learning about not only your historical connection to the land, but your responsibility to it and its people as well.

And maybe that's why it was really difficult for me to make the decision to give up my Hawaii residency.  I think I was worried that it would sever this already really tenuous tie I have to that place and my life there, my family.  It would make what those people are saying true; I really would become the haole from the mainland.

In the end though, I guess I just realized that what I check on a box for tuition purposes means very little when it comes down to it.  The fact is that I don't live in Hawaii right now, and yes, as a result my skin is lighter and my accent is softer.  Does that make it any less my home?  Does that make me any less Native Hawaiian?  Not at all.  In fact, I think I've gained a little bit of a sense of independence and freedom from all of this that can only help me to become a fuller, more well-rounded person as a whole so that, when I finally do go back (and I will), I'll know myself that much more.

It's sort of like a kid taking the training wheels off their bike for the first time.  It's scary, but it's the only way you'll ever learn to balance.

Resolutions

In case you haven't noticed by now, I'm notorious for making resolutions.  And not just on New Year's Eve.  I make them all year long -- my goals, plans, decisions, etc. etc. etc.  They're all resolutions in one form or another.  So it should come as no surprise that I'm making more of them at the traditional time as well.

After much thought and debate, here are my 2011 resolutions:

• Stick to my budget plan: While I had a budget plan last year and things started off well, I don't know that I thought that plan through.  So when things changed on me, or expenses came up that I didn't expect which altered my budget that month, I got so frustrated that I just gave up.  This year, I have a more carefully thought out plan, and a more carefully thought out mindset.  I think I'm beginning to understand money a little more, and my relationship to it.  So while I have an overall budget plan for the entire year, I also recognize that I'll probably have to replan a few times.  And while a majority of my money is funneled into paying off credit cards, I've built in pockets of spending money and emergency money as well.
• Be more mindful of myself: I need to stop and listen to myself more.  I think I've been in this rut with this job for so long because for months I told myself to suck it up, or I worried about disappointing my boss or something.  Instead, I should have been worried about the fact that this job makes me unhappy and it began to get unhealthy for me.  So this year, I'm trying to be a little more aware of my thoughts and feelings and will hopefully find myself in a better place when 2012 rolls around.
• Take steps to get where I'm going: I began doing this earlier in December and I can already see how good the changes are making me feel.  I started 2010 with all of these plans to get started with and all I ended up doing was putting them on the backburner to deal with in 2011.  Well, 2011 is here...let's get going.
• Travel: Even if it's within the country.  Hawaii and traveling to weddings for a weekend does not count.

There are few smaller resolutions, which are more hopes than actual goals (i.e. build a better wardrobe, get back into my work out routine, write more, see more live music, get outdoors more, take a western national parks road trip, get my dog into a training class), but those are all sort of contingent on something or other.  That's not to say I won't work on accomplishing them, but the resolutions are the real focus here.

I hope you all had a very happy New Year!

Less Emo, More Vagabond

I don't know a single person more confusing than myself.  Probably because I know myself the best, even though it often feels like I understand myself the least.  There's so much about me that seems like blaring contradictions, and so much that I would change if I could (but that I'm okay with being like at the moment).

I'm sorry, I know this is all very vague.

It started from a conversation I had with N. earlier tonight about emotion and my relationship with that facet of my character.  Growing up, I always thought I was incredibly attuned to peoples emotions and troubles; I was often the sympathetic ear they'd turn to, the counselor who would have that one piece of advice that made the puzzle piece fit, you know?  But at the same time, I was aware that when things got real, I got emotionally stunted.  This was never more clear to me than when my grandfather went into the hospital for the first time.  My sisters, my mother and I were all sitting in our living room crying, of course, when my mom reached over to comfort me and I instinctively shifted away from her.  I didn't want to be touched, I didn't want to be comforted (and I knew I was definitely not in the position to comfort anyone else).  I just wanted to be left alone with my fear and worry, left alone to sort through my emotions and come to grips with them before I could be with people again.

While some things have changed (i.e. I no longer think I'm the sympathetic ear or the go-to counselor), that need to be alone with myself when my emotions get the better of me remains the same.  It takes a lot for me to open up in any serious way.  Sure I'll reveal things about myself and let really personal information roll off my tongue like it's no big deal, but that's because for some reason -- to me -- whatever I've said really is no big deal.  But I tend to do all of my crying jags in the shower, with the music blaring so no one can hear.  And as N. said to me tonight, I sometimes take on a very traditional/typical male response to certain things in our relationship.  In fact, N.'s often the first one to say things like, "You know, when you say things like that it sort of hurts my feelings."  And I cringe at the words because all I want to do is roll my eyes toward the sky and say, "Ohmygod, are you serious?"  It's not because I don't understand that something I've done may have upset or hurt him.  It's because the way I tend to react to these sorts of things is by holding it in close to me, dealing with it, and then never mentioning it again.  I guess I see no need to talk things to death (which may seem odd, considering I have a blog in which I talk everything to death), or to reveal that much of myself that often.

This discussion between N. and I continued into a larger conversation about our differences and, specifically, if and how those differences will affect our future.  It's been weighing on my mind lately because I've been struggling with (and trying to ignore, perhaps) this side of my nature more and more often recently, but I finally got up the nerve to ask him some really big questions.  "Do you ever just want things to change?  Not necessarily because things can be better than the way they are, but just...because.  Don't you ever ask yourself what could become of your future if you just changed directions?  What if you lived in another city, had another job, didn't have a girlfriend?  Don't you ever wonder?  Don't you ever want more?"

And he said that he really didn't.  That he was satisfied with his life the way it was.  That the "more" I'm talking about didn't necessarily mean "better," so why jeopardize the life he has now?

But he also said that it's something he worries about because he sees those questions in me all the time.  This, again, is one of those confusing characteristics about myself that I'm finally acknowledging.  Growing up, I resisted change in every shape and form, mostly because the changes that I saw happening in my life were never of my choosing and I just couldn't bring myself to see past the immediate consequences to the eventual outcome.  Change was the enemy to a girl whose only hope and dream was to be stable.  Then something happened and I learned to cope with the change.  And as soon as I was old enough to start affecting the changes in my own life, I did so at every turn.  Now, instead of the girl who craves stability, you have a girl who's satisfied for a while, and then feels the need to uproot and replant herself somewhere else.

How does this play out in a relationship where one party is happy to stay rooted?  How do you reconcile these two conflicting needs?  What does it mean when even the girl is scared that she'll never be satisfied and will always need to replant?  Does it mean she just hasn't found her place yet?  Or does it mean something else entirely?

The Inevitable Evolution

Confession: I don't do well with change.  Not all change, necessarily, but definitely the important kind.  For example, I find it necessary to rearrange my apartment every few months because I can't stand having the rooms remain stagnant for too long, but I don't know what to do with myself when I hear that my sister and her family may be moving out of Hawaii (which, thankfully, didn't happen after all).  I also look forward to and need my own life's big changes whether they be moving states, starting school, making a lifestyle change, etc., but when changes happen that are out of my control I sort of freak out a little bit.  I didn't know this about myself until it was pointed out to me by a therapist when I was 14 (see my post on being brave), after I'd created a miniature world devoid of humans who, inevitably, "just mess everything up."

Given all of this, it comes as a big surprise to me to realize that, sometime over the course of the last eight years, I did some quiet, unsolicited changing of my own.  Up until now, I'd always been that naive girl who said things like, "I don't think I've changed at all since xyz.  I'm still the same person."  Well, as it turns out, I'm not, and nothing points that out more than a visit with those who know/knew you best.

It isn't the easiest thing to deal with, realizing that you're no longer a child and your parents are no longer invincible or all-knowing.  It's harder still when the values you now hold to be important no longer line up with the values of your family.  And it's even worse when neither side knows how to cope with that and instead end up either criticizing, or trying to knock the other down a peg or two.  Simple questions and statements can become landmines: When did you start caring about the environment?  Don't you have normal food, what's with all this fancy stuff?  If I had it my way, we'd just use our nuclear weapons and get out of there already.  So, what, are you ever going to use that law degree or was that all for nothing?

I'm not saying that my views are the right views and theirs are wrong, because I realize that different experiences, different worries go into shaping those views.  It just makes you feel very far away from those you're supposed to feel closest to, and it makes you almost hate the changes you've gone through over the years that have created that distance between you.  Being an adult and a child at the same time isn't the easiest position to navigate, particularly when that child has grown into that adult away from home and away from family.  It's then that those changes seem to rise up and slap you in the face once you're together again.

I don't mean to sound like I think that these changes are insurmountable, or that they're even unique to me and my life.  I'm betting that most people go through some variation of this experience in the course of their lives, especially if the life they're building for themselves takes a path far different from the one they were raised on.

I'm just saying that it isn't easy.  Change, apparently, rarely is.

project reconnect

it's no secret that, after graduating from law school, i decided not to become a lawyer and have since begun figuring out a life more satisfying on a road i didn't anticipate traveling.  it's also no secret that i've been trying to get my finances in order lately so that i can dig myself out of this debt pit that i've so successfully put myself in over the last few years.  these moves have all been part of a sort of personal project reconnect, in which i try to make myself a better, more well rounded me.

today i took the next step toward this goal and began exercising for the first time in too many months to count.  it wasn't easy either; i really did have to force myself not to call M. and cancel the gym outing she somehow (and i'm still not clear on how or when this happened) got me to agree to take part in.  you see, i hate exercise.  i always have.  i can pinpoint the start of these feelings to either my childhood, when i was the chubby kid who couldn't run very far, very fast, or for very long, or to my high school PE program, which has a reputation of being one of the most rigorous PE programs in the country.  so it really should come as no surprise that it's been a challenge for me to stay committed to an exercise program for more than a week or two. 

but i've got a feeling about it this time.

with all of these changes i've been making in my life lately (spending less, saving more, kicking my diet coke habit addiction, taking vitamins, eating steady meals), i really do feel that i can stick to an exercise regime this time.  and luckily enough, i have a great boyfriend who has been over the moon supportive of me (from cooking healthier meals, to being encouraging without being an ass), and i have M. -- my own free, personal trainer and close friend rolled into one.

today was my first day back in the gym, and my first day there with M.  and it was wonderful.  i'm even looking forward to going back tomorrow!  now that's a big step!  to commemorate the occasion, i took a picture of myself today (which serendipitously is the first day of the month, and quells my OCD tendencies that say i must start things at the beginning of weeks/months/years), and will continue to take pictures of myself on the first day of each month so that i can document any successes (i won't even consider the option that i'll fail) i make.  hopefully, someday down the road, i'll be able to share those pictures with you all and celebrate another goal reached!

my life has been seeing so many changes recently, and that's a scary thing for someone like me, who usually only embraces the changes i want and intentionally create in my own life.  but i'm learning to roll with the punches, and i'm taking this time in my life, when things could have completely gone off track into a haze of nothingness and confusion, and turning it into opportunities.  project reconnect is in full swing!

go shawty, it's yo' birthday, we gon' party like it's yo' birthday

twenty-six years ago, at exactly this time (5:25pm hawaii time), there was a woman laying [screaming] in a hospital bed, in a little town called hilo on the eastern coast of the big island of hawaii.  she was young and pretty, and was about to bring into this world another daughter for herself and her husband, and a sister for her 3 year old.  she pushed.  and pushed.  and pushed.

and then out i popped with a head full dark hair and a scream that could wake the dead.

because of that hair (which was sticking straight up in an abnormally long mohawk), the nurses at the hospital nicknamed me Mrs. T.  and i like to think that it was because of that scream i was given my name: kahea (the call/voice).

it's my birthday today, and i'm turning 26.

do you remember when you were a kid and your mom used to come to school on your birthday with homemade cupcakes?  do you remember how great that was?  birthdays when you're little seem to dominate your entire world. you wait all year for that day to come and when it finally does, it's amazing.  presents.  cake.  balloons.  all good things.  and the best part of all?  you're an entire year older.  which, now that i'm over 18, doesn't seem like such an awesome thing after all.  time just goes by so quickly, and no matter how much you tell a child to appreciate being young, they never really know how.

i was having a conversation late last night with M. about being a year older and what that means.  it's sort of shocking to realize how drastically we all change between the ages of 18-26 (an arbitrary range that we just pulled out of thin air).  but that's really when we begin to discover who we are, you know?  and i know that who i think i am today is going to change even more in another 8 years, but i can't ignore the fact that i've grown up a tremendous amount, and i don't just mean my age.

(yes, i know i do this a lot, but...) i've gone away to school (again).  i've left the comfortable bubble that is hawaii and roamed [at least part of] the world.  i've gone to college and fallen in love.  i've had a quarter life crises, and have been forced to reevaluate my entire life.  my beliefs have been challenged and pushed.  my self-perception has been irrevocably altered.  i've learned the value of both pride and humility, and have tested my limits till the breaking point.  i've had experiences that forever changed who i am and have learned that anything is possible if you have people who love you in your life.

so on this day when some strange tradition dictates that i should be the one to receive gifts, i want to send out a thank you to all the people in my life.  whether you were present on the day i was born, or have only started reading my blog 5 minutes ago, thank you for being here/there/where ever you are.  i feel blessed to have you all in my life.

now i'm going to go and finish up work, buy my love some flowers (because he's turning 27 today too!), head home, and spend a quiet evening hanging out with him and our dog.  happy birthday, march 11 babies!

a slave for you

i've been thinking a lot tonight about the way we, as humans and as habit-forming people, are ruled by our bodies.  it's actually something that crosses my mind quite often, simply because of the fact that my boyfriend is completely at the mercy of his body and, because we live and do most things together, that impacts my life almost on a daily basis.

for example, N. must eat breakfast in the morning.  he must.  he cannot under any circumstances miss the first meal of the day or it is a miserable experience being around him.  and i'm not talking about him getting your average, three-year-old type of uncomfortable.  it becomes nearly impossible for him to function and think about other things.  put simply: he's a grouch.  he also has to have exactly 8 hours of sleep.  eight.  no less, no more.  if he doesn't hit that exact amount, he'll more than likely wake up with a headache.

he is a slave to his body.

i, on the other hand, am almost -- almost -- at the exact opposite end of the spectrum.  i can skip breakfast any day of the week and not bat an eye-lash.  i can sleep anywhere from 4 to 14 hours in a day and still function relatively well.  i'll even go so far as to say that instead of my body training me, i'm usually the one exacting ridiculous (and not always healthy) things from it.

when i was in high school, there were many times when i'd use my body to train my brain to do, or not do, something.  i mean, it's fairly easy to punish your skin in order to condition your mind (again, i did say that these weren't my healthier habits), and i definitely did that.  i don't have the physical scars to prove it, thank God, but even now that i'm older and recognize how incredibly dangerous, unhealthy, and...deeper into my psyche the need to do those things is, there are times when my body still hesitates before doing something, or braces for what it thinks will come as a repercussion.  it's a strange thing.  almost like instead of being a slave to my body, my body is a victim to me, you know?

and there's always the usual bad habits and addictions: diet coke, lots and lots of carbs, not exercising, not eating at least 3 meals a day, etc.

i'm currently trying to steer away from what seems to be my predisposition to do what's easy and not healthy, and begin forming new and healthy habits for the new year and for my life.  it's not always easy to truly remain rid of the desire to fall back on what you know and what's worked and what's made you feel better in the short-term, so this will most likely be a struggle i continue to write about as i go along.

are you one of those people who tend to have certain rituals during the day that your body just requires you go through?  like, N.?  or are you more like me, a recovering bad-habit haver who's used the body as a tool rather than a temple?

happiness and adventure

i'm not a very creative personality.  i'm not artsy, or musically-inclined.  i don't write poetry or dye my hair crazy colors.  i don't play instruments, or garden, or even know how to put make-up on very well.  my wardrobe tends to be made up of solids and denim, and my more obvious areas of interest are very stable, secure, subdued interests in general.

the only thing i seem to really have that's somewhat "off" about my otherwise hum-drum personality is this strong current of wanderlust i've got running through me.

but it didn't always used to be like this.

i used to write, a lot.  i wrote poetry and short stories and observations for every day of the week.  i played instruments, too.  piano, ukulele, clarinet, violin, flute.  and there was a definite phase in my life where i dyed my hair colors my mother would cringe at.  i even wore prints and patterns!

and i just don't know what happened to that girl.  because she seems so far from who i am now.  i talk about her, and it's like describing a curious relation that i remember wanting to be like once upon a time.  the me i am right now idealizes her to some extent, because she was carefree and ambitious in ways that i'm not anymore.  yes, she wanted security, but she embraced the not having it just yet.  she understood that it would all come one day, and she enjoyed the time she had to be a little wild because she knew somehow that those years were numbered.

did i just grow up?  is that what we all do?  do we all put away our childish things and have that be that?  relegate them to a few pages in our photo albums to talk about at class reunions and with people who just can't believe you got that piercing, or that tattoo?  i think i've been trying to do that.  maybe because that's what i felt you did when you became an adult, when you graduated from college.  or maybe because i genuinely wanted to put away my childish things. 

but i don't anymore.  because what's so bad with being a little childish?  with maintaining that sense of wonder and fun?  i'm at a point in my life where i feel like i went from one extreme to another, and now all i'm left with is this life devoid of all creativity and fulfillment.  and it's taken me this long to realize that i can't live like that.  it wasn't just being an attorney that i didn't want, it was the fact that i felt like being an attorney left me no room to be any of the other things i wanted.  on the other hand though, when i imagine just picking up and leaving the country to roam the world and earn money as i go, i get so anxious i want to throw up, so that's obviously not what i want either.

it's the balance of the two that i'm looking to strike.

so yes, i still want a real job.  i need that security and stability.  and money.  but i'd also like that job to allow me to do a certain number of things i feel i need in my life.  because i think i need that creative outlet, that sense of adventure.

is that too much to ask from life?  happiness and adventure?

i hope not.

the road less traveled

if measured against the lives of many others i knew growing up in my small town, my life would be considered anything but ordinary.  anything but run of the mill and typical.  anything but expected.  that's how i've always wanted to live my life.  i've always wanted to do great things, adventurous things, meaningful things.  things that seem so far away from the girl i was growing up.

so it's no surprise that, when faced with this huge gaping hole in my future plans, i've come back around to that truth: i want to do great, adventurous, meaningful things.  i have some ideas about where to go with this.  nothing set in stone and even less rationally thought out.  but a starting point none-the-less.

i want to go back to school.  i know it's hard to believe since i just came out of three of the worst academic years of my life but, if nothing else, law school helped me to finally realize where i think i've been headed all along.  in light of that, i've been looking at pursuing an advanced degree in either anthropology or ethnic studies.  if i go the anthropology route i'll have to take the GRE's and eventually apply for the PhD program separately.  if i go the ethnic studies route, i won't have to take the GRE's and can go straight into an MA/PhD combined program.  in either case, i'm hoping to apply for admission in the fall of 2011.

both of these programs are as close an area of study as i'm going to find to my undergraduate major (which in a weird way combined them and is really what i'm qualified for), and both will allow me to continue learning about and researching indigenous cultures.  isn't that what i've been working toward all this time?  isn't that what i tried to transform my law school study into?  isn't that what i think of when i think of "what i would have done if i'd never gone to law school"?  yes, to all of the above.  now, do i know where having a PhD will lead me?  no.  it could be teaching, it could be working for a private organization, a museum, a library, or an ngo.  i don't know.

but i do know that i want to do it.  i just need a little time before getting started.

you see, i'm one of those people who never took time off.  i always felt that, if i did, i'd never go back to school.  so i'm hoping to take somewhat of a "gap year" now.  and i have some ideas on how to fill my time:

• [first and foremost] work for a little while so that i can save some money to do it all.
  
• a girl i know (who i've often sadly thought is living the life i've always wanted) did a summer program in which she was hired to be a group leader for a tour company that took a handful of high school students on international cultural adventure trips.  her particular trip was to australia, new zealand and fiji.  this sounds like something i'd love to do, and i've looked up the company and the application process.  i'll be applying to be a group leader next summer.
• when i was a little girl, i was so sure i was going to be an archaeologist one day.  it was all i thought about: digging through the dirt for old artifacts, bones and lost cities.  i obviously haven't gone that route, but that doesn't mean i can't find out what could have been.  there are a bunch of different programs through which people can volunteer to work for a couple of weeks on an archaeological dig in places like israel, turkey, jordan, italy, greece, scotland, etc.  there's usually a fee for volunteering, so i'll need to save some money first, but this is also on the list.
• i want to teach english abroad.  in particular, i've been looking at programs which place you in the northern territories in australia.

and when i'm in school again there are a few things i'd like to do as well.  i'll have to see what kind of schedule the particular program i'm applying for has and if they'd allow me to do them, but here they are just in case:

• apply for an internship with the UN's permanent forum on indigenous issues, based in new york city.
• apply for an internship with the unrepresented nations and peoples organization, based at the hague.
• possibly study abroad in new zealand, australia, and hawaii.  if it seems like new zealand and australia are mentioned a lot, it's because i have a particular interest in researching indigenous issues there (which i am hoping to work into a dissertation topic i've got swimming around in my head).

and in between/during/after all this, i'd like to find some time (like now) to volunteer or intern in other areas i'm interested in:

• with amnesty international
  
• with oxfam
• with americorps
• with a tribal organization
• with a publishing house
• with a magazine

this all may seem really rash to you, but it's honestly not.  being the anally organized person i am, i have a huge binder with print outs and brochures and informational packets on programs and organizations, i've emailed both the academic programs i'm considering applying for as well as the diversity office for graduate student admissions (even though it's 2 years away), and N. and i have already begun discussing it all.  i'm preparing.  i'm even thinking of making spreadsheets.

i feel very rory gilmore-ish right now.

but in all seriousness, what it came down to was this:

1. i wasn't happy with the path my life was on.  
2. so i wrote a list of the things i want to do. 
3. this is me starting to do them.

simple as that.

project central

i've been in a very artsy mood lately. i want to redecorate every room in my house. i want to paint. i want to go to thrift stores, buy up the world, and refurbish to my delight. i have some projects lined up that i'm looking forward to (though nothing is for sure yet...must run it by the pack mule
boyfriend). i guess i need to fill my time somehow, right?

but in my search for diy project ideas online (particularly while visiting the extremely awesome creature comforts), i came across this:

which, considering the photographer is only 14 years old (14!), made me feel unartistic and completely untalented. lol. more of her stuff can be found here. it really is beautiful.

anyhow, some of the things i want to get to over the next couple of...days? weeks?...however long i'm going to be unemployed (urgh, so frustrating!):

• create my own one of these, so i don't have to pay $40 for it at the moment.  i do, however, plan to buy one of the originals from madebygirl as soon as i can afford it.  i suggest everyone check out both her blog and her etsy shop!
  
• somehow redecorate our home office/guest room. right now there's a colossal and ugly futon couch in it that we bought off of craigslist when we moved in a few months ago. i hate it. the space it takes up makes it impossible to rearrange the office EVER. i'm secretly plotting it's untimely demise. N. has no idea and will probably be unhappy about it. but it needs to be done. i want to replace it with a cushy overstuffed chair and table (which is fantasy at this point since i have no income), and move some of the furniture around. it's just too cluttered. papers everywhere. N.'s crap in crates and overflowing from his file cabinet. a broken shelf. case in point: right this second, i am sitting at my desk on my laptop and can see about a square inch of the desk surface. it's disgusting.
• create my own one of these too, except i want to put a quote from "wuthering heights" in it. you know the one: "What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning; my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger." i have the canvas and paint (all free!), and just need to start.
• fix up our wall art around the house. it's all sort of mish-mashed right now, sort of off-center of things. i mean, i love the pieces we have -- lots of asian script (compliments of N. being chinese, as well as our trip to hong kong a couple summers ago), northwest tribal art we bought on the s'klallam rez over our last couple of trips up to washington, some framed cards, a wall hanging friends got us from israel, etc. -- but i'd luuuuuurve to do something like this with it all. (yes, at this point i may as well just move into this ladies house, i love it so much)
• do some very necessary yard work. we have a huge back yard, dominated by an equally huge oak tree. because of this oak tree and the shade it creates, we have no grass. that being said, i have to find a replacement ground cover (because both finn the dog and i hate the wood chips currently strewn around) suitable for shady areas and a dog running around. i want to do large pavers and then buckets and boxes of ferns, shade-appropriate flowers, and an herb garden. i also want to hang some bird feeders, build a bat house to help with the mosquito's (we live near a creek), and string white lights or lanterns from our porch and the oak tree. this, as you may have guessed, will cost MONEY. so it will be the last project i tackle.
• finally: two weekends ago, N. and i went to check out some thrift and goodwill stores and i hit the motherload: a pair of 7's in my size for only $4!!! this is my very first pair, and i won't deny that i've got some serious back-patting going on over the fact that i got it that cheap. yay me! but i want to change them into skinny jeans, so that's on my to-do list.

i'm taking more diy suggestions/ideas, or blogs to refer to if you've got them. or i'd just love to hear what you've been up to!

an exercise in honesty

i've never not had a plan for my life. as much as i like to think so, i'm really not that spontaneous or wild. so now, here i am freshly graduated from law school and completely plan-less. i do not want to be a lawyer, i frequently wonder if i've wasted the last 3 years of my life, i have no idea what i want to do next, and because i don't know, i can't even start planning on reaching those phantom goals.

suffice it to say -- I AM FREAKING OUT.

and if i'm completely honest with myself -- as i so rarely am -- there's something else going on too. now, i rarely get into any serious discussion about my relationship with N. on this blog both because i'm half afraid he'll find it and read it, and because it's just very...personal. but i've already talked to him about this issue so i don't feel quite as nauseated at the thought of him reading this, and this also directly impacts any future plans i may be cooking up. if it seems a little voyeuristic for you to be reading about the inner workings of my 4.5-year long relationship, please feel free to stop. but most of you readers are close friends anyway, so here goes:

over the last 3 years, my friend M. and i have had numerous discussions about the fact that we both moved to new cities we knew very little about because the men in our lives were there. we both changed our lives to suit these men, and we have both been hyper-dependent on these men ever since. as much as i hate to admit it, and as much as i try and tell myself that i really moved to CA for school, the fact is that school was an excuse to move closer to N. i was miserable without him. it was like the city i once loved had been stripped of everything i had loved about it. i felt lonely, like he had just gone and left this huge gaping hole in my day-to-day that i had once filled with him. so when the chance came to make some changes in my life, the first change i made was to move.

prior to this, i had always been the type of person who swore she would never make any big decisions based on a guy. i was strong. i was independent. i was also terribly naive. but my parents had always taught their daughters to put themselves first, to accomplish all they wanted to do with their lives before settling down, to not end up in a relationship that kept you from doing, from living.

to be fair, N. never asked me to move to be with him. he never put me in that position. just like he unilaterally decided to move from where i was to CA, he left the decision of where i would go to law school up to me. i think that's one of the things i respect most about him: he knew what was right for his life and he did it, regardless. and he wanted me to do the same. that was the type of person i used to be.

and i'm not saying that moving to be with him wasn't right for my life. because i think it was. law school may not have been, but N. remains one of the best parts of my life, and of me. quite honestly, he will probably be the man i marry one day. so all in all, moving down to be with him may have been one of the best, and most influential, things i ever done.

but the fact remains that, in a way, i did it more for him, and less for me. well, that's not really fair; i guess i did it more the me that was part of a couple, and less because it would have been best for the me that was an individual. so that huge decision will always be...tainted. i actually remember having a conversation with a friend prior to leaving WA in which i couldn't stop questioning if moving down to be with him made me really strong because i could do it, or really weak because i had to do it? i've never come around to believing that it made me strong. and there's just no getting around the fact that i've been conforming my life, my dreams, my goals, to his ever since i made that decision. he came back to CA and has been doing everything he ever planned to do. i came down to CA and have been fitting my life around that plan of his, throwing out whatever i may have wanted that won't work, and replacing it with what will work for us.

i started doing this because, to my thinking, our relationship, our future, was my new goal. and it still is. but now that i'm older and more...secure...in that relationship, i think both N. and i have realized that who we are and what we want as individuals won't just disappear in the face of who we are and what we want as a couple, no matter how much we may hope it does. so those dreams i once had? those goals? they're still there.

one of those goals has always been to live abroad more, to see the world. i studied abroad, both in northern ireland and in new zealand (where N. and i met), when i was in college, and i've always wanted to do so again. when i made the decision to go to law school and move down here to be with N., i just assumed that that goal was just a childish, i-don't-want-to-grow-up goal that i would get over. but it wasn't, and i haven't. instead, i've talked about it non-stop for the past 3 years, and i've periodically thrown out the idea of us just picking up and going, to the point where N. has asked me numerous times why i just don't do it. my answer? i don't want to leave him. and that answer has worked thus far because i've had a life plan to go along with: Plan A.

but as we all know, Plan A didn't work out. so here i am, on the cusp of a new chapter in my life, an unwritten, un-outlined chapter, and i'm faced with another big decision. what do i do? where do i go?

N. worries that if i don't take advantage of this time in my life, where we don't have a mortgage or children who need to be in school, then i'll wake up one day when we're 40 and regret our life together. or resent him for holding me back (his words, not mine).

i worry that if i don't take advantage of this time in my life, i'll be passing up my chance for one of my last adventures. i know it sounds crazy, and friends have been telling me that we're so young, this isn't my last adventure, and i know that's true (marriage is an adventure, kids are an adventure, growing up in and of itself is an adventure), so let me clarify by saying that i mean it very narrowly: adventure in the sense of picking up and traveling whenever and however you may like. because realistically, you just can't do that when you have a family and children and all those things i want someday. we have a narrow window of time in which to be young and selfish, you know? why not take advantage of it?

i'm also worried that if i don't grasp this chance to take back a certain amount of the individuality i feel i lost when i began conforming my life to N.'s, i really will begin resenting myself (and him) one day. and i don't think i could stand that.

which is where yesterday's post comes from.

i've been considering going back to school for a while, i guess, so this isn't really out of the blue. i just haven't talked about it very much to very many people because it's been nerve-racking coming to the realization that i've failed so utterly at Plan A. and the fact is that i don't have the faintest idea as to what i want to do with my life right now. so while i'm considering a Master's or a PhD, i don't even know if i want to teach, or that i'd even feel qualified to teach after getting a PhD. so i worry that i'd just be buying time, postponing the inevitable that is having to figure out what it is i want. but really, what's wrong with that? if i'm not getting a job anyway, or if i'm only getting jobs i hate, why not spend three years doing what i love to do (i.e. research, writing, possibly abroad), while i figure it out?

because there's also a certain level of fear that comes with it. i'm afraid of starting something new and not having that work out either. i'm afraid that, after getting my PhD, i'll be in no better position that i'm in now. i'm afraid of being more in debt. i'm afraid of moving to a place where i know only a handful of people (i.e. New Zealand), and starting a whole new life. and i'm afraid, again, of being without N. who has been my security blanket for so many years.

i obviously have more to think about than i care to. i guess possible big changes will do that.

i will, however, say that i am excited as well. scared, but excited.

a possible Plan B

explanations to come:

From: Julie A.
To: Me
Date: Thu, Aug 27, 2009 at 12:24 PM
Subject: Re: Inquiry

Hi Kahea,

I just heard back from the University of Auckland so I am glad you clarified that with me! It looks like you would be eligible to apply directly into a PhD program or the master’s year. You would not need to do the postgraduate diploma if you wanted to do the master’s route and it would take about a year.

As for the PhD, they are 3 year programs with 100% research. You would be matched with a faculty supervisor and have to submit either a research outline or proposal. The nice thing about PhD programs is they can be started at any point throughout the year AND as an international student you will be paying domestic student rates, which is about $5000 a year depending on the school.

If you are interested in the PhD, I would encourage you to fill an “Expression of Interest” (EOI) application online. This requires you to provide your academic background online, plus a research proposal. The faculty will then assess both your academic qualifications and whether the research you intend to do is applicable at University of Auckland. You will need to go into: https://xyz and follow the instructions. If you already have a supervisor in mind, you will be encouraged to mention it in the EOI.

If you are interested in the Master of Arts in Anthropology, the deadline will be November 1^st for the February 2010 semester.

The honours year is only available for New Zealand students and it is considered their “fourth year” since bachelors degrees are only three years there. You would not have this requirement and honors from the U.S. is not equivalent. You should be able to bypass this requirement since you have a graduate degree.

Let me know what sounds like the best option for you. I have attached the application instructions for you to apply through your MyLearn account if you are interested in the master’s.

Cheers,

Julie

on the eve of battle

you know those moments when your hair looks perfect, you don't feel overweight, you've got a great outfit on, you're about to be promoted at work, the love of your life has just proposed to you, you found the world's most comfortable pair of shoes on sale, and life is just generally one big tub of happy?

this is most definitely not one of those times.

actually, this is almost the exact opposite. because tomorrow morning i will start the three day nightmare that is the california bar exam. and if you just scroll down and read a few of my other posts you'll quickly realize that, for me, this exam is simply an exercise in humility. i don't want to be a lawyer. so why am i taking it? because this is just the type of person i am. i was too afraid to leave law school when i realized that i didn't want to practice (and i honestly enjoyed parts of it too much to stop). i was too invested and had gone through too much to give up when i could see the finish line right ahead of me. i was too wrapped up in what i thought was the only version of My Life Plan that i would ever have to pause before taking out a hefty bar loan and applying to for the test. and now i'm just...in too deep.

so i'll sit for the bar tomorrow and let whatever happens happen. because i'm not prepared, and i don't care that i'm not prepared. at least, not for me. does that make sense? what i mean is that, in regards to how i feel about most likely failing the bar, i'm okay. i've come to terms with it. i'm already looking to plan out the next stage of my life (because, let's face it, i'm a planner), find a job (side bar: it was quite an eye-opener when i realized yesterday that none of the jobs i envisioned myself having in the future required bar certification), live my life.

but i've been flip-flopping on my emotional stability lately because, while i'm okay with my own failure (in this case), i can't stand to have to tell my parents. i'm the type of person, as sad as it may seem (and believe me, it's sad), whose self-worth has almost always been wrapped up in my academic/professional achievement. it's crazy and completely unfounded, but a part of me feels that if i don't become this wealthy, successful lawyer, then i've failed my parents. they wanted me to be something, you know? and if i'm not this, then what am i?

so this is where my head has been at lately.

and then yesterday happened. getting back to those perfect moments i mentioned earlier, let me just say that, while my moment was definitely not perfect perfect, it was pretty incredible. there i was, sitting in the car with N. listening to NPR, thinking about failure and about "how can it be failure when it's not even something i want?" or "what am i going to do if/when i'm not a lawyer? how am i going to make a living?" and about disappointment and how my parents want so much for me and i worry that it's not what i want for me, or that my j.d. doesn't seem like much anymore (i think i actually thought having only a mere j.d. was a failure as well, so deep was i into my self-deprecating snowball) etc. etc. etc. just generally having a silent nervous breakdown there on the 580. and then i hear it.

it'll sound ridiculous when i say it, but i don't care. at that exact moment when the bar was indeed getting the better of me, NPR began to play j.k. rowling's harvard commencement address, entitled, "the fringe benefits of failure, and the importance of imagination."

while the entire speech is fantastic (which is why i'm posting the video in its entirety), it was the section on failure that forced me out of my whirlwind of insanity and gently requested that i stop, take a deep breath, and think. and while i'm still sitting to take a bar i don't want or need to pass tomorrow, the panic has receded, the breakdowns have come fewer and far in between, and i'm in a place where i can say: whatever happens...let it just happen quickly.

J.K. Rowling Speaks at Harvard Commencement from Harvard Magazine on Vimeo.

Text as delivered follows.
Copyright of JK Rowling, June 2008

President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates.

The first thing I would like to say is ‘thank you.’ Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honour, but the weeks of fear and nausea I have endured at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and convince myself that I am at the world’s largest Gryffindor reunion.

Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can’t remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, the law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.

You see? If all you remember in years to come is the ‘gay wizard’ joke, I’ve come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step to self improvement.

Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that have expired between that day and this.

I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called ‘real life’, I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.

These may seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.

Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.

I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that would never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension. I know that the irony strikes with the force of a cartoon anvil, now.

So they hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents’ car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.

I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all the subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.

I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.

What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.

At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.

I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.

However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person’s idea of success, so high have you already flown.

Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears that my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.

Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea then how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.

So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.

Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above the price of rubies.

The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more than any qualification I ever earned.

So given a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone’s total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.

Now you might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I personally will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.

One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working at the African research department at Amnesty International’s headquarters in London.

There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.

Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to speak against their governments. Visitors to our offices included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had left behind.

I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him back to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.

And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just had to give him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country’s regime, his mother had been seized and executed.

Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.

Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard, and read.

And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.

Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.

Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people’s places.

Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise.

And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.

I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces leads to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.

What is more, those who choose not to empathise enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.

One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people’s lives simply by existing.

But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people’s lives? Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world’s only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped change. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.

I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children’s godparents, the people to whom I’ve been able to turn in times of trouble, people who have been kind enough not to sue me when I took their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.

So today, I wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:
As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.
I wish you all very good lives.
Thank you very much.