The idea of taking more risks evolved from my boredom with my play-it-safe personality. I see myself as a person who lives in a state of constant fear, and, while my fear doesn't always cripple me, it mostly leaves me with a white-bread type of existence. Bland. Boring. Blah.
At the beginning of this year, I knew that I had a lot of big things ahead-- with college graduation and whatever comes after being the most gigantic of all. This alone scared me beyond belief. After thinking on and worrying about the unknown in my impending future, I came to the realization that playing it safe wasn't an option if I really wanted what I 'want' out of life. You can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs, you know? And so, take more risks was born.
Now, for your viewing pleasure, I will profile 5 of the most poignant risks I embarked on. Some are huge, some are small. But all of them scared the hell out of me, so that has to count for something.
5. The OK!Cupid Date
Not one of my brightest endeavors, but I think we can all agree that it was pretty damn risky. It all started when my NYU friends and I sat down for dinner together (complete with the best pumpkin risotto you've ever tasted, by the way). We were reveling over one's onslaught of dates over the past week when she admitted that she'd made a profile on the dating site, OKCupid, at the urging of a friend. Now, the rest of us operated under the assumption that only weird young people or old people in general had to use the internet to get a date. Crude, I know, but you were making these generalizations too, and you know it.
We were a little shocked and intrigued that our friend, who is totally normal and a catch, was picking up men who weren't murdering her on the web. And she seemed to be having some success at it. So I, being the only other single lady of the group, told her I'd do it too. Partly because who doesn't like a good date, but mostly because creeping on other peoples' dating profiles is wildly entertaining.
I made a profile and within a matter of minutes the views and messages started coming in. The way OKCupid works is that you type up some profile responses (What are you looking for, what movies do you like...) and answer some questions (Are women obligated to shave their legs? How do you feel about S&M?) and the site calculates a love match percentage, friend percentage, and enemy percentage between you and other users in your area. After getting some really titillating messages (i.e., 'hey', 'nice freckles', 'what r u wearing 4 hlwn grl?'), one hit my inbox that made me laugh out loud.
I won't bore you with the details, but, long story short, I decided to respond and we hit it off. Eventually the conversation lead to whereabout in NYC we lived. And we lived in the same neighborhood. In the same apartment complex, to be exact.
Truly, this was weird and exciting at the same time, and I was feeling pretty risky. So I accepted his suggestion that we meet in an hour and take a stroll around our complex. At 9pm. In the dark. In NYC. Alone. Hey, I already said it was not one of my brightest endeavors. Also, it gets a little worse.
However, I did call Nazlı (who at this point probably wanted to have me committed) and informed her that, if I didn't call her in an hour, I was dead and to call the police. A solid plan, as plans go.
So I left the safety of my home and headed to 'the fountain' to meet Greg. He brought wine in coffee tumblers for us to share as we took our walk. Literally the only demand my mother has ever made of me is: never drink from an open container, and what do I do?
I drink it and repeatedly ask him if he's going to murder me, that's what.
Despite all of the horrible ways this could have gone, I made it out OK and we actually had a pretty good time. I was excited that someone had the same sense of humor I did and a similar drive to make it happen in this city. We parted and agreed to see each other again.
Then the hurricane happened and I never heard from him again.
My friends maintain that he probably didn't make it out alive, but I sincerely hope, Greg, that you're just a typical guy who never called.
4. Letting Go
This year I learned that it is perfectly alright to sever ties with someone you once considered a close friend. This was not a particularly fun experience, but taking the risk of giving up on someone who meant a lot to me has actually paid off in the end. Growing is the way-of-all-things, and growing apart happens.
In my experience, one of my best friends and I stopped seeing eye to eye in a major way. I'm not entirely sure how we progressed to the mess we ended in, but I know that I found myself feeling harassed by someone that was taking, taking, taking what I'd given, and who was giving nothing but hurt in return. I'm sure she felt hurt by me, too, but attempting to find out what exactly I'd done became time consuming and fruitless and exhausting. I found myself lacking the fighting spirit to navigate through all the name-calling and pull it back together.
This was terrifying. She had been one of my closest friends for years and was an integral part of two of my dearest friend groups. I was wary of putting those groups at risk and making things 'weird' for everyone, and I was also really scared that somehow I would end up alone. But things came to a head and I finally had to say enough, and let it go. I had to stop answering baited text messages. I had to stop worrying about the effects this was going to have on other people. Because, really, it was having the biggest effect on me, and my life, and my happiness.
So I cut the cord. And it was painful. It still makes me sad, in a way. However, it empowered me to surround myself with people who lift me up, rather than bring me down. My other friendships were strengthened, and I really feel as though I'm in a better place.
3. Reaching Out
In high school, I had a wondrous broken-hearted-teenage-love saga that has pretty much shaped all of my romantic relationships up to this point. It was a secret crush, that turned into a friendship, that almost turned into a ?, that left me hanging for a solid part of my teenage years. Looking back, it all feels strangely similar to this:
One thing is for sure: being left hanging screws you up way more than rejection does. I have serious trust issues (don't we all) and I think the root of it lies in the horror of possibly being taken for a ride again. So how do you fix that in yourself? If you're me, the first step is to gather your wits and reach out to your friend/the ex-object of your affections who you've been estranged from for four years.
While home for the holidays, we met and caught up over a few drinks. I was nervous going into it, but genuinely curious as to what ever became of him. Despite all those years of my love-worn journaling, we actually had managed to form a close friendship, so it was important to find out if he was doing OK.
And, turns out, he is. It was so easy jumping back into our rapport. My anxieties went right out the window and I really enjoyed slipping back into our rhythm. He's still a match for my sass, and that's saying a lot, people.
So reaching out, while terrifying at first, had a big payoff for me. The ease and normalcy of it all reminded me that I am nowhere near the confused little girl I was in high school, and it gave me the chance to let go of those silly insecurities that I had been holding on to with a vice-like grip. Taking a risk to put myself back into a place where I had previously been so vulnerable took a lot of courage, and ultimately changed me for the better.
2. Driving
I have always been convinced that my death will be the result of a freak motor-vehicle accident. It's completely morbid, I know, but that's all part of my charm. So it's safe to say that I can get slightly high-strung while,
a.) in the passenger seat of anyone else's car (it's a control thing), and
b.) driving somewhere new and/or dangerous.
And by high-strung, I mean like an antelope running from a pack of predators, high-strung.
I had to move from my first apartment on November 29th and decided to rent a U-Haul and round up some friends, in order to save a few bucks. Well, since the truck was in my name, I had to drive the monstrosity from the depot to my apartment across town. And then parallel park. Luckily for me, I had Nazlı and another friend in the cab with me to give words of encouragement and record the experience for posterity.
The Terror on 23rd Street
Making that drive and doing it in a mostly composed manner was a great victory for me. Risk taken, fear conquered!
And onto the biggest risk I think I have ever taken...
In October of this year, I hit a wall. While attempting to deal with the fact that I was completely and utterly miserable in my program, I finally took a step back and admitted that Speech-Language Pathology is not for me.
I am, and always have been, an actor, and that is the direction in which I need to take my life.
This decision was not taken lightly. I've had to come to terms with the perils of the lifestyle I am choosing. I've had to face my fear of disappointing the people who love me. I've had to swallow the lump in my throat and fight the anxiety that comes with saying "I am dropping out of school".
Doesn't that just have the worst connotation? It still makes me cringe, but dropping out is exactly what I'm doing and I won't take it back. I have serious pride/perfectionism issues, and pushed myself to finish out my semester, however torturous these past months have been. I don't think many people could do that and succeed.
So here I am. Another struggling actor in New York City. I have a plan, as usual, but now I have to learn that you can only plan so much. The rest is an unknown, a ?, a risk. I am so excited to finally embrace who I am and what I love. I'm no longer dipping a toe in the water, I'm doing a cannonball and laughing all the way.
This year is quickly coming to a close. I took risks. I changed. I had some really stellar and strange and enlightening and crushing experiences. But the point of all that is: I'm still here and I've grown up and I'm striving to live my dream. What a payoff.
Looking ahead...
2013: Allow yourself to be vulnerable.
... What are you doing?
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Preach.