1. I’ve lately been obsessed with listening to good music in my great headphones…pretty much anywhere. (Guess I don’t follow my own advice). And most recently I’ve been into The Local Natives, an L.A. born band that’s full of three-part harmonies, rustic, yearning vocals, some oober fun chanting, and roller-coaster melodies that hit me in the heart. Want a good starting point? Listen to Cubism Dream.

2. This past week, I’ve reached my life goal of having 100 followers of twitter (#candiehappy). Now I’m up to 119, but who’s counting? Oh, me. But whatever. I realized the value of twitter a few months back, but now I finally see how relatively easy it is to create relationships and spread good content through this funky 140-character communication vortex. And it’s #SO #EXCITING.

3. Oh, I didn’t go out Friday night? And I stayed in and made a tumblr? Eeek.

4. Speaking of social media, I read this interesting piece on how the U.N. uses it. And, they’re even considering using PINTEREST.  I guess it’s to “spread their message,” so should be interesting to see what they pin. If anyone has additional insight on how the U.N. can effectively use Pinterest, please fill me in…. I’m still sort of boggled. And uh, while youre at it…check out my boards?

5. And while the U.N. is figuring out Pinterest, they’re also trying to stop the mess that is Southern Sudan. I read this piece and found myself in a funk; sometimes I think I’m not connected well enough to what’s going on in this beautiful, yet heart breaking world.

6. Luckily, not all that’s on The Times is a downer (although with all this election stuff, it does seem grim). For a pick-me-up, watch a crow in Russia sled down a roof. Not kidding.

7. The other day it was windy. But not windy enough to blow down a billboard. But still, a billboard fell. Steps from our apartment!

The other day Kelli asked me what my aspirations were. Well… sort of. Her boyfriend had wanted to know (currently all he does know is the approximate time I walk from 22nd street to Union Square every night…swear that’s not creepy) and she relayed the message. So Steve, since you’re now following me on twitter (#thanks) and may see this post if I tweet it (#mosdef), this is for you.

Aright. I have this thing where sooo many things intrigue me, adventure and the unknown provide me with comfort, and I have absolutely no ability to switch off my head that’s constantly bursting with stories, ideas, desires, and questions. And at one time, I had a long list of aspirations that filled every screaming moment of curiosity: getting a Masters in global health, signing a record deal, writing a bestseller, running (fast) marathons, making music in West Africa, climbing mountains, and winning the lotto and doing nothing but knit and build lean-to’s.

But I’ve recently realized that even if I could achieve all that (let’s be serious, I, eh..wouldn’t), I don’t know how valuable that would be. Could I put my heart into it all? Would each feat have the same meaning, or would that meaning be spread thin? And maybe even this: could there be some aspiration I didn’t even know existed? And how would I find it?

So I turn to my favorite book by Herman Hesse, Siddhartha. One of the most important quotes (to me) is, “Perhaps that you seek too much, that as a result of your seeking you cannot find.” And I think for a while, I was constantly seeking out a certain goal (or seven?) and became tunnel visioned, doing anything and everything I possibly could to attain every goal in life. And while that’s not necessarily a bad thing, I didn’t really let life sort of lead itself in a direction unbeknownst to me.

I graduated and moved myself to D.C., since I landed a job that fit “perfectly” with my Anthro major and slight obsession with African cultures. And while the Smithsonian African Art museum sounded lovely, I knew next to no one in D.C., and ended up quitting my job almost a month later in an intense, tear and anger filled meeting (woops). From that moment on, many other things happened as a result of my fierce “seeking” quest. And four jobs and probably 20 something states later, I found myself unemployed in New York City, the one place I had been trying so hard to tear away from.

But then, life seemed to work itself out. I stopped feverishly seeking, and (so thankfully) landed a job that intersected my passions, talents, and work rhythm. I found amazing people and have made wonderful friendships. And I’m living in a city that I used to hate… and then appreciated… and  now, maybe,  am slowly beginning to love. And I want Greatist to succeed beyond the success it has already gained and have the whole world see its vision—its incredible value.

And my aspiration? For me, I think boxing myself into one specific goal is just as dangerous as having too many. Instead, I’m devoting my energy to this: genuinely impacting others while staying curious, challenged, and happy. And whatever country I end up in, project I devote my time to, and people I surround myself with, I will spiral all my energy into this hope.

And climb Kilimanjaro.

We’ve acquired a typewriter. (And so far, it has been).

And speaking of tumblr’s (genius segue), Ali and Grace started one of their own, titled Is this your single glove? Basically, they go around and take pictures of single gloves, recording where the glove was found, at what time, a description of the glove (three adjectives), and usually where the person was headed when the glove was spotted. (I mainly use this blog to see what Ali’s up to when I’m not around) (She got a bagel on Saturday). In any case, the goal is for everyone in the whole entire universe to start looking out for single gloves, submitting photos, and making this thing go viral. Cause, why not? You can submit your own photos/details to singlegloves[at]gmail[dot]com. Happy looking down!

Heeeey. Hope you all had a fabulous weekend. If you’re in New York, I’m sure you were slightly confused by the weather, seeing as it was about 5 degrees earlier in the week and 50 this weekend. No mind…it made for a wonderful 5 mile run from Central Park to a Cassoulet cook-off in the East Village (5 is a trending number). But before that.

Friday, I tried something new: Boxing. One of the trainers at New York Health and Racquet has been trying to get me to try it, and let me tell you…it’s AWESOME. I was totally into hopping around the ring, giving a one, two, three punch..ducking under..throwing a left hook. Man. My trainer told me there was a “pop” behind my punch, meaning I could probably kill you (watch out!). Yet, about twenty minutes into my Rocky debut, Frank had me running around the ring, throwing 30 punches, then jumping down and doing burpees, then more punches, then pushups (with gloves, mind you), punches, mountain climbs, more punches..it went on and on. And on. Then when I thought I was free, we did a 15 minute ab workout where I contemplated dying. Frank was pushing me along, saying “cmon, you want that six pack!” while I thoughtfully replied, “no, I  really really don’t.” In any case, I somehow recovered and headed to the Rubin Museum, where I watched people swing around on ribbons (see picture, aint lyin), had a glass of wine, felt like passing out, went home and ate dinner, and..fell asleep. At 9. Perfect Friday night, if you ask me.

Things got real on Saturday, as Greatist + friends headed over to Times Square (?) to try some Kundalini yoga. I had done it once before (which I actually wrote about), so I was a bit scared. Yet, my second time around was a lot more positive and purposeful; our teacher really had us focus on putting intention behind every physically challenging movement and soft, inward breath. By dedicating the practice to something while using the pain to destroy negative energy, I was really able to get the most out of the class.

Having felt so “centered” from yoga, I decided that going out and drinking a fair amount of whiskey would make me feel like my old self. The night somehow consisted of travels to both the Lower East Side and Greenpoint, which are always two completely different worlds. On Ludlow, we had this dude come up and ask “are there any bars around here?” where I responded, “well…there’s one right in front of you, a million right behind you, oh, and seventy thousand straight up ahead.” Apparently that was the green light for him to keep talking, where he explained how he paints pictures that teach people how to play tennis. Real winner. Back in Brooklyn, a more clever pick-up attempt was made at Flo, though apparently no sparks:

On Sunday, I woke up and headed to central park to meet up with my new friend Laura, and meet two other NYC runners, Katie and Jocelyn. I met Laura through Greatist (she is an awesome, supportive reader!), where I soon learned of her amazingness: she has run 50 marathons in 50 states. YEAH. Katie and Jocelyn are also wonderful wonderful people (not to mention marathoners & triathletes, too!), and the four of us hit it off. We winded through central park, made our way over to 1st avenue, and eventually down to a path along the East River. Five miles later and we arrived at Jimmy’s No. 43, a dank, (literally) underground restaurant that was holding a Cassoulet cook-off. The modest entrance fee went directly to local farmers whose crops were destroyed by Hurricane Irene, and the event included generous tastes of DELICIOUS bean and meat stews. I’ve never eaten so much duck confit, pork shoulder, and bacon in my life…and may I say I was in heaven. Our favorite dish was by two Austrian chefs who ended up knowing a bunch of Schwecherl’s from my homeland. (Why all these small-world things happen to me, I do not know).

The four of us talked running blogs, good food, and other things about LIFE, while well-dressed people kept asking us, “wait, did you actually run here?” And…..I may or may not have been coerced into running a Ben & Jerry’s Marathon in Burlington in May. EEEK. We’ll see. PS) Below we’re with our Austrian chefs/boyfriends. Obviously I was GLOWING.

If you haven’t seen this yet, I suggest you watch the trailer.

Then watch the documentary.

Happy New Year! Here’s to a healthy, happy, and adventurous 2012.

& hope your night was as…entertaining as ours.

Love, the Addams Family

Yesterday at work, while I was in the middle of emailing and writing and sipping coffee and thinking and gathering and organizing, I was “interrupted” by the twitter.com and a certain New York Times article that was re-tweeted, caption: Read This.

So I did.

And since then, I haven’t really stopped thinking about it. Written by Pico Iyer, a  respected travel writer, essayist, and novelist, Pico dives into many ideas that I constantly ponder and struggle with: the urgency of slowing down, technology & communication, free time we desperately want (but indeed never create), and perhaps the most important piece (for me): the positive purpose of being selfish in order to relax and rejuvenate and become our best self.

There’s a lot to take away in his article, but i’ll just highlight a few things. I highly recommend you read it for yourself, too; it’ll be better than anything I write about here (those New York Time’s writers have a thing or two on me).

In any case, Pico writes: “The more ways we have to connect, the more many of us seem desperate to unplug.” And it’s true, for the most part. For me at least. It seems like we’re constantly battling with the two extremes: going forth with technology and innovation, while wanting to rewind at the same time. Maybe for our generation, it’s harder. We (sort of) remember what it was like without cellphones, with casette players and VHS’s, browsing tv guides to see what shows were on, and waiting for 15 minutes to get on dial-up internet, as long as dad wasn’t on the phone. That’s why it makes it harder; we’ve seen both sides of the story, both ways of living. I remember trips to Blockbuster to scan the “new release” section. I also know how to navigate Netflix and watch any movie without moving a muscle.

I think that many people feel secure staying plugged in. Personally, for the longest time I never wanted an iPhone. I didn’t want to become dependent on it. And, well, I just got one. And as stupid as it may seem, it was a huge step for me. Of course I had asked for it, and in ways felt like I needed it. But why? Do I actually need it? Probably not. But it could be extremely convenient, relavent, fun. Geez—it’s normal. Everyone has the thing. But…it’s just the idea of having another sort of distraction, a way to make things too easy, or even another way to speak without talking— as Pico says: “We have more and more ways to communicate… but less and less to say.”

Another important point Pico brings up is the “urgency of slowing down,” which ties into this whole “unplugging thing.” I feel like I sometimes live these two lifestyles that stand on opposite spectrums. On the one hand,  I’m totally plugged in, working a lot, spending most of the day on the internet, while checking twitter, facebook, my iPhone—what have you. “Free time” is really a foreign concept, but I function well without it. I need to dive into something 1,000,000% while finding time to run and workout and write and read for myself, and somehow see my friends along the way. It’s how I work.

But I’m also the complete opposite. I need to detach completely. Some of the most important moments in my life have been by myself, usually just looking up at the sky, somewhere, anywhere. (Once on a beach in Ghana, and another on a morning walk in Colorado stick out particularly right now). Even a few days ago—I woke up knowing I had to go out and buy coffee before getting ready for work (I have a morning routine with my french press and the New York Times), yet when I walked outside, it was absolutely beautiful out. It was the first cold morning in awhile, which for some reason comforts me. So rather than quickly purchasing my coffee grounds and going home to read and shower and get ready for work…I walked. For awhile. In the beautiful, comfortable cold. I had nothing with me but keys and two dollars, which accompanied me on this beautiful, still walk around Brooklyn.

“The urgency of slowing down” is what I was unexpectedly able to find that morning. I needed the “time to do nothing at all,” and it came at just the right moment.

Still, that walk happened once, and those nights I find myself alone looking up at some star-filled sky without a single worry are few and far between. For the most part, lines are blurred, hours turn into days turn into a week, and I can barely separate one moment from the rest. In better words: “All we notice is that the distinctions that used to guide and steady us — between Sunday and Monday, public and private, here and there — are gone.”

But I’m happy. And if I was stuck in the middle of the woods, as much as part of me truly wants that, I’d go crazy. Still, everyone can find their escape depending on their surrounding environment. For Pico it is living in the middle of the woods (in Japan!). For me in Brooklyn, my time to “deplug” comes from working out, or early weekend mornings in bed with coffee and a book or my moleskin. When I first moved to the city, I thought I needed to escape to the nearest cabin or jump in my car and drive on a long stretch of road. But now that I’ve finally settled, I’ve learned that I can find peace without going anywhere.

What I especially like about Pico’s moving to the “middle of nowhere” is that his decision has nothing to do with “principle or asceticism,” but rather..selfishness. And I love how he uses that word. It’s okay to be selfish; we all need to find what makes us calm, clear-headed, and joyful. And I’m a big-believer in that: only when we can be our best selves can we in turn be a better daughter, parent, friend, co-worker, etc. Too often we’re out to please others, compromising the time and space we need for ourselves.

“But it’s only by having some distance from the world that you can see it whole, and understand what you should be doing with it.” And these words comfort me most. I battle everyday with these two extremes: working hard and learning and accepting how this new-aged world works, and wanting the complete opposite: to tear away from it all. But now I’ve seen how they both work together, that they’re not separate entities but rather complement each other… and make me whole. The quiet distance from things calms me down and lets me see clearly that the life I’m leading is the correct one, and it’s wonderful. And the real battle is finding that balance, to stay connected in this quickly moving world, yet be able to hop off that walking escalator.

And perhaps that’ll be my new year’s resolution I vowed not to make: balancing productivity and inactivity—the joy of movement and creation with, as Pico says, “The Joy of Quiet.”

I love getting e-mails from far-away, insightful, beautiful friends:

“I’m trying to let go of expectations and realize that my stability comes, always, from within– because everything else (as we both know so well) may be influenced but is absolutely never controlled by me.”

Sup. I hope everyone had a wonderful christmahanakwanza. Also, I hope everyone had a really nice day.

Anyhoo, I’ve been thinking a lot about new year’s resolutions—probably because it’s almost the new year, and everyone is talking about resolutions (funny how that works). And I’ve come to the realization that I don’t really like them for a couple of reasons. Now, by all means, if resolutions are your thing, then go for it. Try spending more time with family, or get out of debt. Exercise more, eat better, quit smoking, enjoy life, focus on yourself, see the world, or land a better job.

Yet, if I may ask, why not hit the gym a month ago? Why not eat smarter throughout the holidays, make time for yourself in the fall, quit smoking before ever lighting up, or enjoy life…today? That’s my first issue with resolutions: we’re maybe creating them to feel less anxious about our current faults (I usually vow to take a month-long break from alcohol when I’m drunk, anyone else?) rather than actually holding ourselves accountable and making a change. And sticking to it.

Okay, we often stick to resolutions. For a little while. But it’s too easy to fall back into old habits, or set ambitions too high, or generally get overwhelmed by trying to change so many things at once. In lieu of resolutions, I’ve been making a conscious effort to try to improve upon my life every morning, not just when the ball drops. And with that, I’ve discovered some things I really can change, and some things that will take more than a night (or new year) to fix. I’ve been hoping to make more time to write on this blog (check); I’ve wanted to get stronger and faster (in progress); I need to sleep and find more time to relax (maybe when I’m retired). 

Change comes from within and whenever— not simply when the year is out.  And because of this, I sorta feel like resolutions lack meaning. But please,  if you like the concept of starting ambitiously fresh on January 1st, then write  your resolutions down and knock em out. But maybe… start yesterday. 

Contrast

The dead of winter—
numb toes, icy faces warmed
by heaters in houses, feeding
desire for friction, irony.

Opposites never attract unless
they cancel things out, creating
space to fill with icy pools we swam in
once, hot air and hail.
We lost our breath, seizing suffocation.

Too many wrongs turned right created
contrasts, which leaves me here:
belonging with these belongings, walking
barefoot on subways. Standing
firmly on shaking streets.

Things clashed and created chords.
Collapsing into energy and
hope that glances turn to understandings,
a secret curiosity and beautiful absurdity,
shared on separate spectrums.