All posts filed under: Inspirational

Summer Inspiration

☆ Listen while reading ☆ I’m sitting out watching the setting sun, and the smell of jasmine wafts under my nose. I’ve been home two weeks, but this is the first time it feels like summer. I close my eyes, feeling the warmth from the sun dance across my eyelids, and I wonder what this much anticipated season will hold as I feel it beginning to take over. Every year, around March, a feeling starts to itch in the back of my mind. I start dreaming golden visions of beaches, palm trees, and lemonade on repeat when I close my eyes at night. Anticipation brews as cold winter months come to a close, and I can practically taste the warmth as classes conclude and the sun begins to break out of its shell. It’s my favorite time of year, approaching with an immediacy that no other season can seem to match. Summer has always inhabited a special place in my soul, and just the mention of its name has my heart fluttering with romanticized plans for adventures …

Woven Memories

Delicately sifting through my closet, the pads of my fingertips recognize a garment before my eyes do, and I allow myself to remember. The clothes are color-coded, but that’s wrong – they should be sorted chronologically. I’m spring cleaning; passing forward those items I don’t make use of as much as I used to. Both cleansing and reflective, it allows me to relive so many glorious moments experienced in the garments I contemplate keeping. Vintage Red Chinese Inspired Jacket: Red lipstick smeared across my lips, and baguette clutched in my hand, I wait outside the coffee shop. Gazing down the street, my meandering eyes catch a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower. I wrap my jacket around myself a little tighter, but electricity continues to vibrate across my skin as I relive the memories of the previous hour; Paris served me all of my fashion idols on a silver platter, as we stumbled upon the aftermath of a fashion show I hope to one day attend. My wistful flashback is interrupted by an elderly local man …

Full

That’s what my friend Bree described it as to me. The feeling of being full. And I believe that’s what we all strive for in the end – acceptance and becoming content with the present. The funny thing is most people never reach this point of being ‘full’. We stretch and pinpoint this notion further and further into the future. When we gain our ideal job, when we earn enough money, when we are traveling, when we meet our soul mate. But, as weird as it sounds, the past and future don’t exist at all. We only have this moment – the present – right now. So essentially, we have everything we need to be happy or ‘full’ in this moment (since that’s all there is) once we learn to accept our current life situation. I don’t have the best job or earn vast amounts of money. I don’t have the coolest or best clothes. I’m not a size zero. I’m not the smartest person and I don’t have perfect grades. I could go on …

An Open Letter to the Hopeless Romantics

To the hopeless romantics mixed up in ‘hook up’ culture, we’ll make it. Being someone who wants something serious in a generation full of one night stands and hook-up apps is tough. Catching feelings seems to be outdated and ‘no strings attached’ seems to be the thing to do. So what do you do when hooking up isn’t your style, but you can’t seem to find someone to take you seriously? Wait. That person is coming, and they’ll be worth it. We live in a generation where people are praised because they like your selfie on Instagram, on don’t take five hours to text you back. A person nice enough to hold a door open, or give you a compliment is seen as marriage material. While those are all great qualities, is that really what we’re settling for? Has our generation become so afraid of attachment and ‘real’ feelings and relationships that getting someone who gives you the time of day is seen as winning the lottery? Have we really lost what it means to …

On Finding Sanctuary

The oscillating Spring winds in flight warmed by the untimely Summer sun summons a familiar sentiment of aged pages in a used bookshop to messy hair tied into a jumble crossing MacDougal. Greenwich Village has held its place as a haven for creatives, artists, and intellectual curiosities alike. It has changed and molded throughout the years, adapted to the changing tides of generational evolution, yet strongly carries its inviting charm. I have always had an affinity for Greenwich Village, whether it be reading about its whirlwind intricacies in poetry or films centering in the city growing up. The gloom of winter in December within Washington Square Park walks turns introspective, a generative space of ideas and musings, appropriate for such a kept sophistication. The snow that fell would be trotted upon by fellow walkers, following prints left by a morning jogger or a noble french bulldog. The moment my toes go numb I would head over to Caffe Reggio, my safe haven. With winter over and summer approaching, Caffe Reggio has always been a place …

Just Write It All Down

I had the opportunity to create my own personal mission statement for one of my classes in college. It is pretty simple: write about you, your values and what you want to achieve. I’m going to leave mine here to serve as an example. I hope you enjoy. All I want, all I really want is to cry when I need to. Love with all my heart. Sleep when I’m tired. Eat when I’m hungry but stop when I’m full. Listen more. Create, innovate, discover. Realize that something new is not always something better. Realize that some friends are forever and others are meant to let go. Realize how truly lucky I am. Realize that some days are just better than others. Realize that it is always possible to better myself. Live in the present moment and cherish every day. All I want is to say I love you to my parents more often and call my grandparents more because you never know what could happen. Take care of my body. Listen to my body. …

Find The Beauty in Your City

Listen While Reading: Dreaming of You // Cigarettes After Sex. The sweet, almost dizzying, aroma of the tiny boulangerie around the corner is wafted in the summer breeze; a cloud of butter and almond and cinnamon. A lady in a crisp white apron and immaculate, elegant flats is rushing to the front of the shop and in a series of orchestrated moves, she’s barricaded the door and away she goes, soon disappearing down yet another unknown street. As I turn my head around, I’m almost cast out of balance by a couple, racing on their vélos. They’re chattering in loud, rapid French, and I’ve been here long enough so as to be able to make a positive guess that they’re most likely not settling a quarrel but rather just babbling about. “Je te dis, c’etait vraeiment terrible!”, the man exclaims with a grandiose gesture of his hands and the woman soon falls into a fist of fairy giggles, her quivering body effortlessly maneuvering the bicycle underneath her. Carried away by my thoughts, I find myself descending the creaky …