Waiting to leave

I tend to develop headaches at work, so I allowed myself some 15 minutes to wander around the building. There wasn't much to see. The second floor was completely abandoned. Cubicles left unkempt, as though the owners had simply stood and left. Chairs swung backward; no one had cared to roll them back to their places, out of the way. There was a rolling cart with a few postal service boxes, left like someone hadn't the time or care to place them in their respective place. It was like a scene from armageddon, or something from a Hollywood film - The Day After Tomorrow, or something. Maybe the Shining. It was eery, but I tried not to think about it. Fears bring fears to life.
The first floor was an open space where the printing presses used to be. It looked like an old-school factory, left abandoned in the throes of modernization. Like a picture straight out of Detroit or Paterson. The vents were unbelievably loud against the somber silence. I couldn't stand either floor for to long so I headed up, thinking to return to my desk. But I noticed more stairs up to the fifth floor. This wasn't the same stairway that led to a big newspaper room - sometimes me and Rob would spend time there - this was something new. The ceilings were adorned with mold that had grown over the years. It smelled heavily musky. I pushed open the door and there it was, the view of Hackensack at dusk. The Court House's stately dome and its statue were centered perfectly in the distance. I stepped out into the cold and wrapped my pashmina around me. To the left were the distant lights of New York City, just faint blinks through the fog. The clouds were overtaking now. I saw the bustling highway of I-80, cars speeding past, hundreds of feet above houses and buildings and more cars. Someone was speeding down River Street to my right. I could hear his engine roar. To my left were more windows in some other part of this building...this dilapidated, abandoned old thing. It is the life-size view of what is happening to the newspaper today. We are slowly becoming irrelevant. And so is this building. In a few weeks, we move.

In between wake and sleep.

One thing I know I have to improve on is relying on myself.

When it comes to big decisions, I have a tendency to turn to someone else to help me gain clarity. I don't stop first to consider my own thoughts. Or, I do, but I second guess them the instant they come. Alex pointed this out to me a few times. When it came to hard decisions about the record, I wasn't sure what points I'd want to change in songs... so I'd ask my sister, and my best friend, and other people and then get back to Alex with these thoughts. Soon he caught on. I was just picking things up from others - I wasn't relying on my own ears. 

Tonight I was reminded that I need to rely on my own heart, mind and soul too. It's not that it's a bad thing to consider other people's thoughts, it's just that when it becomes a substitute for my own, I start to lose myself, and second-guessing becomes second nature.  What will I do when there's no one there to tell me what I should? 

I'd gladly attribute it to the way I was raised, though I'm wary about sounding eager to find a scapegoat. I'm not. I just think that I've always felt compelled to follow the basic goals my mom and grandparents laid out for me: do well in school, stay close to the church, family first. It's not that these things are bad, it's just that it becomes the prerogative for everything I do just because I'm used to it. Not because I've learned it for myself. I'm proud of how I've turned out, and I know I've made a lot of mistakes, but for the most part I've been playing things safe. Given our financial situation in life, I've been given much. I've done little to risk this - not that I think I should - but I've never been compelled to just figure out all this stuff for myself. I'm grateful for the firm foundation of a religious family and an independent mother figure. But how ironic, I can follow the independence of my mom on some levels but not on others - not when it comes to making big decisions. Sometimes, I just feel better letting my mom in on things, as though she'll figure it out for me. 

It's not healthy, and I see that it could become dangerous for me. My grandparents are eager to keep me sheltered and thrust their judgment on me, but I can't let that sway me. My mom is trying to show me that she trusts me, but she still watches like a hawk. I can't let that make me question myself on my judgments and actions. Sure, I can be stupid and make dumb decisions. But who doesn't? And - not to fall on my face - but maybe I need to learn from my own mistakes too. In the process I can learn to take risks, especially in the music world. Risks that are good investments in the end. . . like this album. I need to understand that it's a little crazy, but I'm doing it because I have a resolve, and that's the end of it. 

And I need to trust that I've been a good person, I've tried my best in what I can and tried not to be too reckless with the serious stuff. But most of all, I've followed my passion and ultimately kept my ear to what God wants me to do with my life. . . that, I know I still need to polish up.