Isolations

Tonight, I got to experience life. I watched a movie with friends, spontaneously went to a party, and then climbed some buildings. Regardless of how tired or scared any of us were, or the fact that it is 30 degrees outside, we did it all. And it didn’t matter who suggested it or came up with the idea, because we did it together.

            Until I started that sentence, I didn’t know that’s the part that mattered to me. I was living in the moment, getting rust on my hands from the ladders, and taking pictures from rooftops. But now thinking about it, I realize the events that transpired wouldn’t have meant nearly as much if I had done them by myself or with people I didn’t care to be with.

            This is such a simple, obvious concept, but it’s one I forget sometimes, until I have time to reflect. And that’s what this is all about for me. I have an outlet to reflect on and look at what I’m feeling.

            I’ve spent a lot of time standing back and appreciating my surroundings while being surrounded. I try to close my eyes a second longer to cement the memory into my being— not just my brain. Out of all the experiences I have had the last nineteen and a half years, I remember just a few of them now, because I took the time to step back from the moment and commit to myself. I have just enough foresight to know I’ll want to remember it later, and so I take that one extra moment to imprint it onto myself.

            I can tell you the temperature, the swirling of lights, the texture, everything. I only have a few of them, though. Lots have started to fade and some blend together. It can be frustrating, but I’ve decided that when I need to know it, I will.

            Tonight I took the time to remember something else. I decided to remember the people: the adventurous climber who didn’t want to dance; the timid but exhilarated pharmacist; the scared but secretly bored planner; the veteran enthusiast; and the one who didn’t care about someone she should have.

            I decided to remember who we were in the moment. The stained glass around us made the memory beautiful, but the people made it worth absorbing. Nothing we do will ever be perfect. No moment will ever be captured accurately in words or pictures. So instead, I choose to isolate myself right in the middle of it. Everything stops for a moment and I’m completely engulfed by everything around me. I press the pause button, take in every aspect, and swallow it in my mind. I then press play and resume watching, dancing, and climbing and let my mind process and develop it, until it’s unfiltered, unadulterated, and undone.

Zoe Cruz: Girl Who Only Likes to Listen to Songs on Albums in Order

And so, 18 months later, as I have come fully clothed into college, I am picking this up again. I've had 18 months to decide what to write, the perfect title, and the ideal punctuation. But instead, I've been living, something I talked about in a previous post. And I've been living for myself— not in a sinful way,-however you choose to define that- but living with the purpose of discovering myself, my beliefs, and all the things which accompany being a human being.

But this wasn't something entirely obvious to me until I read a friend's blog where she reflected on herself and the definitions she has attached to herself, and how much she hated that. After reading it, I couldn't help but do the same. I am not one to care about definitions or labels; I care about more complex issues. But don’t we all? We like to think we’re Bob Vance, proponent of free speech, but we're all Bob Vance of Vance Refrigeration (subtle Office reference, my friends).

I'm Zoe Cruz: first 3 time drum major at my high school: lover of all things feline: avid symphony attendant: doubter: loather of labels. We're all something, and we all like to label it, even if it's being a non-labeler. But I like to think that at the end of every day, those aren't the things we contemplate before drifting off to sleep. Because I think about who the next president will be and what that will mean for me. I think about the semester I want to travel abroad in London. I like to think I think about things of importance, because if I don't, then I am no better than the labeler who thinks only of the words describing her. I like to think I ponder topics completely unrelated to me that will probably never affect me, because that's what considerate people do. They think of people other than themselves. But that's just another label.

We have to choose what fights we're going to pick with ourselves. Does it matter that today I spent more time thinking about how my earthy headband perfectly coordinated with my shirt than the fact that I have a mid-term next week? Does it matter that yesterday I thought about the kids I tutor and how to help them, but today I spent a large amount of time memorizing something for my sorority? I don't think it does, because I'm all of those things: the headband enthusiast; stressed student; middle school tutor; Chi Omega. I'm all of those things and a lot more, because I am a human functioning in society.

            So today I choose to lay down my sword and not fight the labels fight. Some days I am one thing, and some I am the complete opposite. After all, my father was correct in nick-naming me his "180 Daughter". So if you've been standing with your hand on your hilt, ready to pull out that dagger and plunge into the part of you prescribing to labels, put it down. We all feel the need to label ourselves. The only fight we have to take part in is the one where we decide what those labels mean to us. If you want to let it define you, let it. Let yourself proudly be Bob Vance of Vance Refrigeration. But if you don't want to be defined by something, then don't. Be who you want to be and love the things you want to love. I know I will.