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strangers

Today, as I traveled to work early in the morning, I managed to snag a seat near the back of the bus, and as I turned my head towards the window I caught the reflection of a pair of dark eyes that observed me. They belonged to a thin guy, probably near my age, and the whole time I sat on that seat they were on me, staring like they wanted to look deep into my soul. Usually I catch fleeting glances at me, at my body, and most of the time I curl my upper lip in disgust and turn away to ignore the lustful looks, but this time it was different. His eyes never peeled off my face, and there wasn’t a hint of lust in them, only curiosity. I could still feel his gaze as I got off at my stop, and once the bus was on its way I managed to catch one last look from him, leaning against a window. That got me thinking about all the people you can meet on public transportation. The beautiful, that always seem out of place amidst the crowds; the bizarre, that everyone always wants to avoid; the old; the young; the ones that can blend in perfectly and the ones that stick out like sore thumbs. A dozen different realities, every single time you board a bus or one of the wagons at the subway. If you think about it, we run into an endless stream of people in a lifetime, people with unique appearances, unique personalities, and unique stories. And I can only wonder, have I ever made an impact in someone’s life, in those five or ten minutes we share the same air? Has anyone fallen in love with my eyes, hated the way I dress, wanted to be me, or even wanted me?

I cannot remember all of them, but there have been a few cases where those strangers I meet on a daily basis have stayed with me, even after I’ve left them far behind. A gorgeous, Adonis-like guy who had a gaze that could melt your heart; a chatty, lively old lady that complimented me out of the blue; a young girl that discretely undid her messy ponytail and tried to imitate the way I had done my hair; and a crazy man that smelled like he hadn’t taken a bath in a few weeks and screamed that the end of the world was coming up and down the bus until he was asked to leave. Have I ever made that sort of impact on anyone before? Is there still someone out there that remembers my eyes, the sway of my hips, my grey dress? One can only wonder, I guess. Wonder if I have ever crossed Mr. Right, passed a great business opportunity, been within an inch of being followed home, or simply inspired someone to change something about themselves. All those people, representing endless opportunities, some good and some awful, some possible and some simply out of the question; all sharing one space for a moment, and trying to pretend they are ignoring everyone else around them, when in fact your mind stops on several of them, wondering what their story is, imagining all sort of different scenarios to strike up a conversation. Seems funny, doesn’t it?

the alpha female

So this week I was told I was an alpha female. I instantly smiled and thanked the person, truly believing I had just received a compliment, one I was used to hearing, especially these past few years. Later that day, I stumbled upon a blog entry at The Thought Catalog that coincidentally versed on alpha females, and what their life is all about. I started getting this sinking feeling in my stomach as I read, a new, crazy thought roaming through my head: ‘was it really a compliment?’ I’ve been told all my life that people, regardless of their sex, can achieve the most amazing things if they set their mind to it, that one should strive to perfection in every aspect of one’s life and that failure is simply out of the question for people with my potential. My parents (especially my mother), my teachers, even my friends, they were all constant reminders that I ‘had what it takes’ (whatever that means), that my competitive spirit would take me far and that, since I had the potential, I couldn’t settle for a normal life. I had to be big, famous, successful and practically legendary; otherwise my life would be a waste. In other words, I couldn’t settle for ‘normal’ or anything remotely similar. My mother never accepted (and to this day, still doesn’t) anything lower than a perfect 10, my teachers always expected my projects and essays to surpass their wildest dreams, and my friends are only surprised when things don’t go as I planned. Plain, average, normal, forgettable and boring were words that would never, could never, describe my life.

This is how I was raised, how I was taught to act. I became this obsessive, possessive, control-freak gal that could never settle for anything less than perfect. I was constantly looking for a better ‘fill in the blank,’ whether it is a project, a school, a degree, etc. And now, a job. I’ve only been working here for less than three months, and I’m already seeking a better one. Sure, I knew even before starting here that this was only a transitory job, something to keep me afloat economically speaking while my dream job arrived. But still, I can’t help thinking that this is just me falling back into my regular pattern of achieving something bigger and better, never satisfied with what I have, always wanting more. I can’t help but wonder, is this what my life is always going to be? After the adrenaline rush I get when I manage to reach my objective, will I get restless once more, eager to move on to the next big thing? With each new phase in my life, I leave everything and everyone behind, and I am never satisfied with my current situation. I keep pushing myself to achieve more and more, even if it means no sleep and stressing myself to the maximum. When will it be enough? Is it ever going to be enough? How does one learn to enjoy the present when you are used to thinking ahead, planning new goals, already thinking of the next step after only minutes of having achieved something?

A couple of years ago I had the opportunity to watch Dogville, a movie by Lars von Trier that stars Nicole Kidman. I felt, and still feel, completely identified with Nicole’s character, Grace, especially when someone in the movie points out that she doesn’t measure herself with the same standard she measures everyone else, that she sets the bar higher for herself out of pure arrogance. I do that too, and I used to think that was a good thing, that the need to set impossibly high standards for myself was simply because of my great potential (again, whatever that means). Now I realize it was all haughtiness, nothing but my ego fooling me into thinking I was better than everyone and thus I had to excel at everything.

I used to pity other people, those who barely manage to hold on to one simple thing in their life, those who have never received recognition, those who get overlooked, and those who fail. Now, I think it is me who should be pitied, for I will never know what it’s like to sit still in the carousel center, sipping champagne. No, I’ll always be the girl that is constantly changing from one horse to another, trying to figure out a way to climb all the way to the top. The girl you admire, but are also very grateful not to be.

bad day

I was sitting in my office, staring sullenly at my computer screen, with 20 unread emails and a dozen “to do’s” marked urgent. Around me, people were chatting amiably, going about their daily tasks with a smile on their face and even a couple of jokes to toss around. As I looked in disbelief, people were actually enjoying their work, even if it meant calling some snobby receptionist to get an appointment or answering dozens of complain mails. I, on the other hand, procrastinated for at least half an hour before finally (begrudgingly) getting to the task at hand. The shiny new Blackberry in my purse provides much yearned-for distractions that relieve, at least partly, the boredom that invades me practically the six hours I sit in my desk. On certain days, my inner Grinch comes out way more often than usual, every little thing bothers me beyond belief, and I simply count the minutes till I can get the hell out of here. That’s when I think to myself ‘am I the one who’s wrong? Is it just me that has really bad office days, seeing as how everyone else seems to be thoroughly enjoying what they do?’ Lately I’ve tried to excuse my behavior by saying that my job isn’t right for me, that it’s completely different from what I plan to do with my life and that, unlike the rest of my coworkers, I don’t have one creative fiber in my body, so I usually feel out-of-place and strange.

But the reality is, they are nothing more than lame excuses for not doing what I’m supposed to do, regardless of whether I like it or not. They are paying me (and a lot more than many interns I know) and I have to suck it up and be a man. Or woman. Until I land a job that’s more career-oriented, that I can actually enjoy, I face the same old boring job day after day. And then, I start wondering, is my attitude solely because what I do has become tedious due to the fact that it has nothing to do with what I’m studying, or am I simply one of those mediocre people that are never happy, no matter what job they get, and thus use it as an excuse to do nothing? If I do get the job I am pursuing (cross your fingers and toes for me, people!) will I step up and give my 100% every single day, will I actually enjoy what I’m doing after the thrill of the unknown wears off? Is it possible to ever really enjoy a job, knowing you will be doing the same crap every single day, sitting at the same office, with the same people, with no other rest than the crappy two-day weekend that goes by in a flash? I used to think that once you found your passion, you would have no problem getting up and working long hours every day. Now, I am not so sure anymore. And even if it is true, what if you never find your passion? Or what if your passion is waking up every day at 12 pm, sitting in front of the television all day long and then partying till the sun comes up?

I guess there’s no way of finding out other than just taking the job and trying to have the best attitude towards it. Because unfortunately, being a couch potato and keeping tabs on TV series doesn’t pay the rent, and as much as I would love to have a job with super flexible schedules that allowed me to wake up at 10 am every day, they are practically nonexistent. Plus, while I graduate and specialize in the area I love and get my pick from amazing jobs that pay well and (hopefully) don’t involve a lot of hard work, I have to take what I can. Meaning low pay, long hours, and suck-y tasks. It’s such a great joy being a student, isn’t it?