Quote of the Day

"And if you feel just like a tourist
in the city you were born
Then it's time to go
And define your destination
There's so many different places to call home."

--Death Cab for Cutie

Bildungsroman

I've recently become deeply drawn to coming of age books and movies. They are stories of adventure and self-discovery and overall just the life I want to lead. I feel every expression of uncertainty and wonder. Every question asking "Who do I want to be?"

Today is the 21st of February. When did that happen?

My goal this year was to lead memorable days but I scarcely remember what today held. The movies like Kings of Summer and the Way Way Back remind me that there are certain places and people that, when you're there or with them, days are longer. At those times you feel the highs and lows of growing up and open your palms to waterfalls of learning.

Some days I still feel like I'm the same searching 16 year old I was 3 years ago. There are too many things that I want to be comfortable with and I'm not. Too many rights of passage I have yet to exit. I guess reading and watching all of these bildungsroman pieces is as close as I'm getting for now.

On Health and Fitness

On my quest to find my way back to myself, my friend and I have been trying to get back into shape. 

This summer, running for the first time of my own free will rather than to stay in shape for track, volleyball, or swimsuit season, I learned that I love running. Put on some happy, upbeat or 80s dance inspired tunes and I'm good to go for miles. Running gives you time to treat your body right while just taking some time for yourself. Running in the spring and summer is especially fun because it's easy to pick a direction and just go. Although, staying inside on a treadmill is not as terrible as I once thought it to be.

Anyway, that's probably not as interesting to people as much as it is just another paragraph of my rambling thoughts. Ready for the main point of today's post? Second chances.

I used to despise running with all of my being. At least by itself. In any other competitive game that involved running-- soccer, tag, capture the flag-- I never had a problem. Only after giving pure running a second chance was I able to learn how happy it makes me. I've become that person on the treadmill full out grinning each time I go to the gym.

This is a huge step for me. This is not common knowledge but I used to have this--obsession. With perfection. With grades and looks and having the right friends and weight and the works. I hated my hair, my skin color, my body and myself. I'm sure a lot of people go through the same thing in middle school and it must be different shades of difficult for everyone that does. I'm luckier than most because my fight with unhealthy perfection lasted less than a year and I was able to shake myself out of it. Eventually I realized that I'm me. I'm never going to look like that Victoria's secret model or have long manageable hair. I'm never going to know how to act perfectly in every situation and I'm going to have more than my fair share of awkwardness. But that's me. I'm glad I've been able to come back to running strictly for the reason that I love it instead of for that overwhelming and suffocating goal of being perfect. I'm me and that's a great person to be.

My faculty in residence is a professor in psychology and studies media and beauty. She gave this amazing TED Talk discussing how we need to re-evaluate how we view ourselves and our bodies. Instead of working out to get thin arms or lean legs, keep your body strong because of what it does to you. Lift your arms and hug someone. Keep your legs strong so they can carry you to the next part of your journey.

Anyway, I never would have found what has now become a big part of my life without sucking up all of the lazy and annoying voices in my head and giving it a second chance. Sometimes, another glance can change everything.

Things I know are true about myself today:

-I believe in second chances. Sometimes it takes me awhile to give something another go but I really think it's worth it.
-I like tangible progress. With running, I challenge myself to go a little further, a little longer each time. Compared to a few years ago when I could barely run a mile without feeling like I was going to die, I am proud to say that I ran 5.6 miles nonstop in under an hour. That may not be too impressive for the hardcore athletes but it's a big step for me. I'm excited to see improvement. 

24 Hours of Happy

http://24hoursofhappy.com/

Here's to the Crazy Ones

"Here's to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes... the ones who see things differently-- they're not fond of rules... You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can't do is ignore them because they change thing... they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the Crazy Ones, we see  Genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do." -Steve Jobs

I like to think I'm a little bit crazy. Not insane -- just enough to leave people questioning "Why??"

There's this deep-seated belied I hold that I can have it all. And that I will. When an interesting opportunity comes my way I have a really hard time saying no. Is that why I spend my time running around campus trying to do everything? Yes. Is that the reason why I disappear during the weekdays? Yes. Do I love every minute of it? Absolutely.

I'm crazy enough to believe that I can change things. I believe that I can change myself. I believe that every opportunity I have to try something new or lean a little more about something is worthwhile every time even if I feel a bit overwhelmed in the middle of it.

I believe in the power of travel but I believe that the biggest and most important journey you can take is deep into yourself; one that makes you question why you do he things you do and why you believe what you believe. Over the past year and a half, I've taken to meditation and reading inspiring books and articles. I've watched hundreds of TED talks, listened to speakers on a number of fascinating topics , and looked for mentors wherever I can find them.

I'm still working on investing in myself but I think my craziness to do and see as much as I cn is putting me on the right track.

Things I know are true about myself today:

-I think a lot. That one pretty much explains itself.
- I'm always looking. I don't know what it is I'm looking for but somehow I've found some answers a long the way anyway.

Omar's Music

Fasateen - Mashrou' Leila
Cairokee-- Sout Al Horeya

An Ode to Omoye

Omoye, or Oye, was my grandmother's name. My oldest sister is named after her. At 86 years of age, she passed on New Year's Eve and was formally buried on Valentine's Day. She was my last remaining grandparent.

Grandma& I never had a full conversation. She didn't speak English and I was never taught to speak Esan. We only communicated through broken sentences that my dad instructed me to say on the phone and responses that he would translate. This language divide never really let me know her but no words could inhibit the amount of respect that I feel for her.

My Grandma was born, raised, and lived her entire life in a poor village in Nigeria. As a woman in that area and time period, she only went to school until a very young age. Her house, with thin wooden walls and candles for lighting, was no where near the atmosphere that I grew up in. Still, she made sure that she was educated enough to read the bible and grounded herself in faith.

Later in life, she gave birth to 8 children from my dad's father. 7 boys and a girl. 15 total if you count half-siblings. Under that same philosophy that girls do not need to be educated, my aunt did not go to school. My dad and uncles however were blessed enough to be educated and define the power of knowledge. From that tiny wooden home and those red dusty roads, they grew and emerged. All of them are now doctors, CEOs, lawyers, and professors. Until her passing, they always took care of my grandma and never forgot where they came from. For being able to create such a strong family, even as they spread  all over the world, I will always be thankful to her.

Grandma, I know you're in heaven now. Thank you so much for raising the amazing people that I call my family and inspiring a generation through your strength. May God bless you and your descendants always.

This is the essay that I wrote in my applications for college. My grandma is only part of the reason why family is so important to me. Here's a bit more insight.:

A Snapshot of Thanksgiving

            “These cookies are burnt!” my sister yells from the kitchen. A chorus of sighs echoes through the house. It is Thanksgiving and all nineteen of us are home.  Welcome to Hotel Imoisili.

            Around the holidays, my house is in a state of utter chaos. Everywhere you look, mattresses and sleeping bags line the floors. All generations come together to catch up on stories that their mouths cannot tell quickly enough.  Some conversations I can understand; those in English or even Nigerian Pidgin. But even if my family is speaking in a different language, Yoruba from my mother’s side or Ishan from my father’s, the love expressed in their words cannot be mistaken.

            If, right now, you were able to capture this picturesque moment in a photograph, you would see a glimpse of what it means to be an Imoisili.

            Click. At the head of the table, my father directs court by offering small prizes to anyone who can correctly solve his trivia questions in two minutes or less. Even during the holidays, he continues to emphasize the importance of education.

            Click. From the kitchen, my mother laughs like a child, elated that her family has been reunited once more. For her, as for all of us, the key to happiness is togetherness.

            Click. In the family room, my sisters have a dance off while my brother and my cousin compete to see who can do the most push-ups. They battle not for money or prizes but something much more valuable: bragging rights.

            This is my family. Each and every one of them has played an essential role in forming who I am as a person; someone who is inquisitive, motivated, amiable, and cheerful. Excellence is simply expected. We hold steadfast to the idea that one’s true potential is not in what others say he or she can do but in what one believes of him or herself. That principle has served me well because if I ever have the feeling that a task is too difficult, I think of my family. I think of my father, who grew up in a poor Ishan village as one of fifteen children and relentlessly pursued an education despite the setbacks of his family’s finances and minimal opportunities to become a physician. I think of my uncles, aunts, and cousins, and how they, too, were able to arise from the ashes of poverty and through discipline and hard work, they became professors, CEOs, and lawyers. My family has taught me that with the right amount of hard work and support, anything is possible.

            Finally, it is time to eat. At the sound of the oven timer, dozens of feet stampede to the table to get a first choice of a strategic place to reach favorite foods. As we all join hands around the dining table for prayer before the turkey is finally cut, I realize how truly thankful I am for my one-of-a-kind family.

_________

Things I know are true about myself today:
- I am so thankful for my family. Though my parent's stories of often create the basis for too much pressure, I have truly been blessed. My family is strong, united, fun, and loving. Many of the stories that I've hear over the years have shown me that a family like mine can be pretty rare. I thank God for them every day.

Interesting perspective I read today

"Today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy ondensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are all the imagination of ourselves."

El Dia de San Valentin

Ah, Valentine's Day. So much love. So much loneliness. So many opinions. Today, I want to share mine.

In my 19 years of life, I have never been in a serious relationship. Maybe a fling or two but even for those, I can't tell. My memories are clouded in a nostalgia of what might have never been. I've been kissed but if I am to be completely honest, most of my "love stories" play out in my mind.

People have always made me happy. Their capacity to care for others, change the world, and make life what it is is unquestionably beautiful. One would think that this optimism would make me receptive to affection right? Not so much. Through middle and high school, instead of pursuing my own heart, I played match-maker. I sent silent signals and prayed that they would be enough. I know now that I was so, so wrong. It got to the point that my fear-- of what, I don't know-- got so far in the way that I helped my crushes connect with my friends and sacrificed my happiness needlessly. My empty fears have lost time.

When you feel something, say something. Now I replay what-ifs constantly. I think of if-only's and write tales of my life in parallel universes in my head. I think of missed memories, missed pictures, and missed perceptions of who I might have been. I think of how I'll never experience that innocent high school hallway love or that summer fling that actually lasted. I worry that my chances for youthful, teenage love are being lost and I'll never get that chance for a fun an exploratory relationship. I'm only 19 and I know there's still so much to come but I already feel as though I've missed out on so much life that others around me have lived. That can be lonely.

I wonder. I wonder what life would have been like, what I would have been like, if I had broken down that first wall earlier with 5 seconds of courage. And those are chances that I'll never get back.

Alright, enough of the pity party. After reading this, one might assume that I'm someone who hates Valentine's Day. Single's Awareness Day, right?

But they're wrong.

I love Valentine's Day. It's a good excuse that I love to use. I believe life is better when you experience it with those around you. Yes, we should show love for one another every day of the year, but just like New Year's, there is something special about a day set aside. Today is solely meant to show the one's that we care for how much we appreciate them being in our lives. We literally wear our hearts on our sleeves and go out of our way to make someone we love smile. And I don't see anything to hate about that.

What I do disagree with is some of how we have learned to celebrate. When I love someone, I love their company. I love the fact that we are better together, make one another laugh and smile, and can turn each other's days around. Yet, we see people visibly angry if they aren't showered with roses or rings in public or if proclamations of how much their significant other loves them isn't broadcasted on social media. That doesn't feel right. It poisons the idea of what people think love is. Love is what makes life so engaging. We can love our family, our friends, our pets, and our mentors. We can feel loved, if not by the people in our lives, by the simple blessing that we are living. In that way, love is used too much and still not enough.

Do I want to find romantic love? Yes. Of course. If you can't already tell from the rest of this blog, I can be pretty darn sappy. I feel like I have so much love to give and though I've been able to express that unconditionally through affection shown for friends and family, I still feel as though there is this giant piece, somehow separate, still to give away. I want someone who will tolerate my ridiculous goofiness, my random deep and intellectual thought, my scatterbrained overcommitment, my lofty dreams, and still love and support me enough to kiss me goodnight. I want the permanent cuddle buddy who doesn't mind laying in bed all day with me and I want the best friend who will go out dancing or on a midnight adventure. But I worry that if I keep wanting someone in this way, when the time comes, I'll fall more in love with the idea of someone than who they actually are. And that scares me. Just thinking out loud here.

But today was fun! At work, we sung our hearts out to Diana Ross' 'Endless Love' and got free candy and doughnuts. Norris was being adorable all day with handing out flowers and making people write love letters to their friends. Michelle, Sanchita, Melody& I went out for Korean Barbecue sporting our favorite hints of red. Michelle& I went to speed dating at the Celtic Knot and met some cool people just for the heck of it. I came back to my room and watched Midnight in Paris and got a wake up call to the endless loop of nostalgia.  I'm sitting here writing and watching the full moon. A gave a hug& got a hug. Not too shabby.

The world is missing the freedom to seriously tell someone that you love them without things getting weird. In dating situations, it has become a challenge. As if whoever says 'love first is somehow less powerful in the relationship. But can you really be in love if you see it as a competition?

This is why I'm making a call for reckless abandon. A call for people to say what they need to say without strategizing or playing others. A call for love to be free to light up the world as it was intended to. Sending love your way.

Things I know are true about myself today:

-I have a lot of regrets. Maybe it's because I think too much about every detail in my life but I don't get over things well. If there is something that I wish I had said or done, it doesn't go away for years. If ever.
-I have a lot of hope. And thus strikes that optimism again. No matter how many mistakes I make, I know that life always has something great out there if we're patient enough to get there. There is no doubt in my mind.

Overheard in Norris

I discovered this awesome new study space on the 3rd floor of the student center today that no one seems to know about. It's quiet, which is rare here so I'm definitely appreciating the discovery. But since it IS so quiet, I can hear the conversation of the people next to me pretty clearly. One of them I recognize as one of my pre-orientation counselors but it's what his friend is saying that is pretty interesting.

This is simply from overhearing not by eavesdropping but this guy has a pretty interesting story. Right now he's studying Film, Journalism and Photography and wants to write and/or go into documentary making for a living. I find that amazing in and of itself. I feel like those skills and interests will make for such an amazing life. But there's more. After graduating from high school, he took a year off to join a Jewish seminary. What makes his story so interesting is that while there, instead of strengthening his faith, he solidified his identification as an Atheist. He then proceeded to get kicked out because he was hooking up with a girl in another seminary and essentially lived with her for 4 months. Things like this are some of the reasons why I love this school. People have such interesting stories to tell. 

But what really fascinates me is when people don't have faith. Maybe it's because I've grown up in such a Christian household but I can't imagine not believing in something. The more I learn about the world and the people in it, the connections that we have with everything around us, the sheer detail in every aspect of life and the wonder that is history, the more I think that God not only exists but is even greater than we can imagine.

So when I hear stories like this, I have to listen. It's interesting to hear where people come from and the events that make up who they are. I know it's a taboo conversation point for a lot of people but opening dialogues about things like faith, culture, money, and ideologies is necessary. We can't learn from one another if we tune out things we don't want to hear.

Things I know are true about myself today:
-I love stories. Hearing them, reading them, writing them... I really believe they're the best way to lean about the world and just how to be a good person. We need more storytellers out there

-Though I love people, I also really like being alone. There's a calming aspect to it and a reflective atmosphere. But once again, I'm at extremes on the socialization front. Still trying to find a middle.

On Green

My senior year of high school, my mom refused to let me buy any other green clothing. I had a problem and needed to explore my options apparently.

She probably had a point. And though my closet is now more than one color, green is still my favorite. And I enjoy the fact that I can explain why. Today while wearing my favorite green shirt and green sweatshirt, I've gotten joking references to channeling Peter Pan, a leprechaun, and Peter Pan dressed as a leprechaun. But as usual, I feel no shame. Those references are part of why I enjoy this color so much.

Green is young. Like Peter Pan, it reminds me of youth and new leaves, and that first time you get lost in the woods.

Green is lucky. Maybe I'm a bit superstitious but I try to wear a bit of green each time I have an exam to possibly get a bit of that leprechaun magic. I mean I study really hard too. But if I can also get a little luck, why not add it? Anything helps.

Green is happy. When I think of green, I think of long summer afternoons spent rolling down the big hill in my lawn and the spring days when everything seems brighter.

When I was younger, my siblings tell me that green was my first favorite color. But, the follower that I was, from about age 4-12, I changed my favorite color to match my sister's. It went from green to yellow to pink to blue to purple (go cats) to blue and finally back to green where it all started. I'm glad I found my way home.

So yeah, I'm probably a fanatic. Definitely actually. But that's ok with me

Things I know are true about myself today:

-I like green. See Above

-I analyze things deeply for meaning in places where it's probably unnecessary. Also see above. I remember going to the grand opening of Miller Branch Library and looking for literary symbolism in the design. This is how I entertain myself.

Getting back into writing

I've come to realize that I've been using this blog for extremes. Extreme bursts of euphoria, extreme bouts of depression, extreme strikes of anger... the works. While I do appreciate the freedom of using words as an outlet, I believe that there is a better use for them. Discovery. So let's call this post the first of many to a new coming-of-age blog. Here's what I have so far:

 My name is Sowa, I am 19 years old and I am trying to figure out what that means.

19 is a weird time. Especially since the vast majority of my friends and family are either nearing the end or already finished with this in between year. Legally, I became an adult over a year ago when I turned 18. But next year, or rather the end of this year, I enter my twenties which, as we know from every good self-discovery movie, book, or TV show, is a different definition of adulthood. This is the last of the teenage portion of my life. And I'm still trying to figure out what it means to be me.

I think the best way to do that is through writing. I'm not going to hold myself to making posts everyday but I want to make this a habit. I want it to be weird when I don't take a few minutes in the day to sit, reflect, and think about what I want out of life. Maybe all these words and ideas in my head will finally sort themselves out on (digital) paper.

Things that I know are true about myself today:

- I want it all. There are so many lives I want to live. So many experiences I want be a part of, so many things I want to learn about, and so many perspectives that I want to be able to see. The only problem is I struggle with making choices.

- When I like something, I REALLY like it. That works with hating something too. Although I think the fire inside me makes life more interesting, I still have to work on finding a middle ground. 

- I'm all talk. This is something I'm working on. I used to figure that verbally committing to things was halfway to doing it but I realize more each day that that is very wrong. Working on becoming more of a do-er.

New Bell's South Africa Commercial

watch. you'll be thankful for our daily blessings

The Bookworm

Sometimes, when the fireflies flicker

And the moon wakes to stretch for his night-shift

She hides beneath her blanket, lost in What-Ifs
She doesn’t want to be found.

Sometimes, when she opens her eyes

She sees not People but Stories

Endless Lives and Memories never meant to be hers

Somehow in this house of Words

She arms herself: notebook and pen and

Voices of strangers now friends
Poised and ready to Slay Dragons

After an Afternoon

Summer! No school! The scent of fresh-cut grass
Hip-hops along the breeze. In the distance
Honking horns of the highway blare across
The new road. Above me, the yellow sun
Blinds, glaring. Mommy always said don’t look.
Three bikes lie thrown across a fresh mowed lawn.
Tiny wrists watch-free, defining freedom.
The gray driveway is warm against my back.
Bradley and I lie here as Z traces
Limb by limb in chalk: blue, pink and yellow.
“I told you I was taller than you now! See?
This proves it.” Bradley sticks out his bright tongue.
Our lips and tongues look like our frozen treats;
Bright cherry red, blue-green, and stained plum purple

Z thinks of it first. She jumps and drops the chalk
And stands with feet apart—always in charge.
Her position blocks the sun creating
A Z-sized shadow on our faces and
Looking up, her nappy black curls seem to
Absorb the light and bounce out from her head
Much too stubborn to ever be tied back.
Today’s Zidea: “Off the plank with you!”
She yells, pointing the plasticky-thing off
Her frozen pop toward us. Our eyes widen.
“Run Bradley!!”  Then I sprint off, lightning fast
(My dad says I’m faster than The Flash, you know).
Looking back, I can only see Bradley’s
Blonde, messy hair, limping in self-ripped jeans.
Away! Even as a peg-leg pirate
He won’t take off that stupid old blue hat.
At base, atop of the huge, green grassy hill
He roars, “You’ll never capture me alive!”

We’re itchy now from rolling down the hill
And the yellow sun is orange now, still painted,
Warm, in the sky. Mommy’s voice calls for us.
Dinnertime! Maybe this time she won’t make me
Finish all my green beans before dessert.
I can already smell the barbeque.
We roll down the big hill in the backyard
For the last time today, adding new moves
To our secret handshake so when school begins
We’ll be cool this time. We’re tired and hungry
But we don’t care. The sky starts at our feet.

For a Friend

You viewed your worth by counting smiles and laughs.
Class clown, life radiated from your eyes.
We always seemed to cross each other’s paths
From laughter to friendship then tender ties.

One night you told me and kept telling me,
Unfiltered words pouring like a cascade,
Of dreams, barefaced. What we could be—should be.
But too much caution-- my despair homemade

This time, I hindered my own story’s plot
I didn’t know parents’ laws could be broken.
My eyes screamed of love but my mouth could not
So my lips linger with my words unspoken

The past can’t be repeated—that, I know.
Another love lost, wild heartbeats now slow.