Final

Lost in New York

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I took several photos walking around my neighborhood and used Photoshop, Illustrator, and Adobe Font to edit the photos and add poems I wrote inspired by these images. I sent my friend my poem “The Unsettling Semblance of Spring” to read, and at first I completely hated the optimism in her tone. I wrote the poem feeling mellow with a quiet anger beneath the surface, so her bringing forth a new perspective startled me. I now appreciate the contrast in our perspectives and decided to keep a raw audio of her recitation, only editing out a few moments of lengthy silence on audition. My final piece features the two poetry pieces (“(who drives the train?)” and “The Unsettling Semblance of Spring”) but I included the other images because I enjoyed playing around with the software. I am in the process of writing a novel on a collection of poems I wrote over the past few years. I plan to self-publish and have spoken with an editor to begin the process, but I plan to become better acquainted with the software so I can continue to improve the images I post with quotes or poems on social media to promote my work.

“Lost in New York”, the title of the project I am working on, is full of bitter emotion with pieces reflecting the mindful and content state of mind I long for but can never seem to reach. I struggle with feelings of guilt for wanting more in life, wanting higher education, wanting to pursue a business, wanting to keep trying new opportunities… it is stigmatized within some Arab communities. A woman who wants more from life is dangerous. My family praises the idea of independence and yet I receive plenty of comments on my age. These pressures of time and accomplishment are stifling, I am only 20 and yet I am made to feel like I am nearing the end of the road. As though I missed my train and the idea of getting back on is comedic. The pandemic has only increased this feeling, I am not able to work and grad school is a question as of right now. Perhaps it’s years of being in the honor roll and surrounded by successful friends, but I am upset with myself for not applying to enough jobs and searching for more backup plans. I graduated high school with an advanced regents diploma, my associates in a year with president’s list, and now my bachelors in two years with a good gpa. And, yet, I am still not accomplished.

“Who drives the train?”, intentionally written in lower case, questions the role of a higher being and whether my persistence is worth entertaining. Last spring, I found out my sister’s chronic illness was much more severe than I have been led to believe. I am not sure why it came as such a shock to me since I have taken care of her since she became ill in elementary school, and yet seeing the fatality written starkly on paper destroyed me. She turned 18 and my parents wanted me to become the legal guardian in case of an emergency, otherwise I probably never would have known. Years of my parents quickly snatching the mail out my hands once it became clear I was one to stubbornly research made more sense now. I didn’t know they were keeping this information from me, especially since I know plenty about her medications, I have taken her to appointments, my schedule revolves around me helping care for her. Now, I am keeping this information from my younger siblings and I don’t feel guilty about it. I only feel guilty that I am allowing myself to become so affected when my sister and parents are also suffering. Despite the pain, I realized I would rather feel than remain numb. I am my worst self when I am masked with apathy but the most unstable at the height of emotion, which brings me back to balance. I want balance, accept the contrast as a part of life and use it to my advantage.

The title of the poem is a play on the idea of a higher being, but also an ironic inside joke. I easily connect to people, often I find myself in the middle of a conversation with a stranger and their company asks how long we’ve known each other. I joke with my friends that I am a “train therapist” because every time I rode a train (or bus!) I fall into a heart to heart with someone and get the person so immersed in expressing their story, they release a few tears. I can get anyone to open up, kids, parents, older people. It’s strange but I am validated by my job, often my boss has asked me to sit in during meetings or talk to a troubled child or frustrated parent. The irony is that I am able to communicate and guide others, just not myself.

This spring inspired “The Unsettling Semblance of Spring”. My sister’s birthday brings joy and sorrow, it’s another year we made it but another year her struggles continue to grow. There’s no one to confide in and there’s no one I would want to confide in. I am angry for allowing myself to become so affected when there is plenty else that is fine in my life. The quarantine has forced me to become more present and it’s been overwhelming not having that physical busy pace of the day to keep me from settling in my mind. My days were split into mornings where I would drive my sister to school, go to class or work, and then home to care for my sister before going back to school or work. I am just as busy, but my worries are half virtual. My days are focused on helping to care for my siblings and attempting to manage my other responsibilities. Despite most of my courses resting on a grade of A, I have missed a handful of deadlines and I feel like a failure. So, as I sat outside with my sisters taking in the fresh air and the wonderful sight of green grass and the chimes of birdsong, I felt my anxieties simmer beneath the surface and I felt as though I were ungrateful for the blessings I have in my life. I am not sure how I can begin to repair the mistakes I have made, but I need to take the time after classes are over to settle and organize myself before jumping back into the piles of projects I have started.

I am grateful I took this class, despite my late submissions I have been drafting my work but the part of me obsessed with perfectionism has held me back from submitting. I will work on becoming more psychologically flexible. I am in the process of starting a website for my mom’s cooking and baking. I am more comfortable talking to people about softwares they use and asking for guidance and expressing my desire to learn and practice the programs. I am working on a few writing pieces and have compiled a list of video/podcast ideas to begin working on ranging from psychology, cultural/religious competency, humor, art, baking, books, etc. I plan to start another website for my interests. I plan to keep practicing and reaching out to others about their own work so that I can someday become satisfied with my own work, too.