Run Run, As fast as you can

Today I was walking to one of my two jobs and I realized: I have two jobs. Then I realized, not only do I have two jobs, but I have two jobs, an internship, and am taking a class. Not only do I have two jobs, an internship, am taking a class, but it's summer. Summer. I thought that was supposed to be time off to, oh I don't know, relax.

How quickly I've realized that the word "relax" is not n the vocabulary of an East coaster, let alone the phrase "slow down." I love the East coast, but have I really turned into one of them? Why do we never stop moving?

Now, I'm sure two jobs, an internship, and a class is normal for plenty of people during the summer. I do like to keep myself busy, I've only met one other person that juggles as many activities as I do on a regular basis and does it well. But I'm all for taking a break as well. Walking from one job to the other this afternoon, I realized that this go-go-go mindset of the East coast is catching up to me, leading me to be my busy, excited, driven self 365 days of the year.

I'm 21-years-old and have had the privilege to live in three major (at least well-known) cities in my life: Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and London. I'm also lucky enough to have a dad that loves to travel, so I have been many places throughout the country and to other countries on my own time. I haven't quite found a place that is as non-stop as the East coast.

Pittsburgh isn't on the East coast? you might ask, or argue. (More likely argue.) No, it is not. Whether or not the location is, the attitude definitely isn't. I do concede that we Pittsburghers have an attitude much more similar to Philly than to NYC, but that's irrelevant for my argument. Things are laid back in Pittsburgh; we watch football and make steel. We're practically a bunch of hicks, West Virginia is only about 2 hours away after all.

I've decided that the East coast is so unique because it is the epitome of capitalism and competitiveness. This is enabled because it is part of the corporate world, and because travel is so simple. The ability to travel from D.C. to Boston to NYC all in one day for various business meetings in a short amount of time is clutch. Don't forget your staple trip to the Jersey/Maryland shore or the Cape. There is always a tight schedule to get from A to B, faster and better than your opponent so that you can achieve success quicker and more so than they can.

I can't claim that this is solely a big-city thing. I lived in London and didn't experience this competitiveness. I was actually surprised at how uncompetitive people were, almost not driven. But that's a post for a different day when I can explain myself better.

I can't claim it's an American thing. I also lived in Pittsburgh, where people were more willing to help you tackle the Cleveland Browns fan to the ground, rather than race you to him.

The East coast, quite a unique place. One that I've grown to love because of its opportunities, yet hate because its caused me to feel like my life is a quick blur in front of my eyes and I have to do everything I can to catch up.

Take me home

I was recently in Church, very holy of me I know, listening to a homily about coming home to God. It got me thinking about the word 'home' and our obsession with it. Everyone I know from college is overly proud of where they're from (including me); there are songs on the radio about home (Diddy is Comin Home); Catholic homilies are about home (enter Lazarus and Jesus); everyone is either frantic to get away from home, or eager to go home. What is so special about 'home' that has us crazy over it?

Some would say that the answer to this question is rather simple. Home is where we're from, who we are. For most of us, it is the residence of the majority of our life. We began at home.

This isn't true for everyone, however. Some of us don't have a home to speak of, a place where we began. It seems to me that our curiosity about who we are and our determination to define ourselves as people leads to our obsession with home.

We all want to understand ourselves, who we're supposed to be. How better to begin defining ourselves than to start with where we began? Home. It's the place that I ran to when I was playing basketball in the neighborhood and skinned my knee. It's the place that I ran from when eight-year-old me decided I wanted to run away to the shed in my backyard. It's the place that taught me values and life lessons; that physically stood around me when I believed those values to be crumbling and the life lessons to be worthless. My family comes from my home and comfort comes from my home. After all, there will never be anything the slightest bit comparable to the feeling of my home on Christmas Eve. (You know the feeling, twinkling tree lights and the soft glow of candles in the window.)

Everyone wants to find their place in the world and home, I think, is the place that we begin to look and return to in a struggle. Whether it is home itself, or the idea of home, the concept is the same. Home is who you are.

I guess that explains my blue collar attitude and the unique black and gold color of my blood...

Up to my ears in expectations

Very rarely do you see someone out in public eating by themselves. Maybe at the mall or at McDonald's it's a little more common, but not at restaurants like the one that I work at. This evening a petite, white-haired woman came into the restaurant and sat in the lounge for dinner by herself. My bus boy remarked how odd it was that she was alone, which got me to thinking, why is it unusual for someone to eat alone? Why do we have such an attraction to being in the company of others?

Of course, not everyone is that way. To this day I can't decide if I lean toward the more or less-social end of the spectrum. While I have many friends, I thoroughly value alone time and my own room. I tend to be loud in a group of people that I know, and quiet in a group that I'm unfamiliar with. This might not have anything to do with my social tendencies, but rather my shyness. Either way it's besides the point.

Thinking about it, everything is always grouped in twos, or some sort of group. Animals, flowers, toes... Are we inclined by human nature to form groups for comfort and safety? Or are we conditioned by our society to believe that we must never be alone?

I think the answer to this is a combination of both. We have an attraction to the company of others because it's human nature. Not only does safety and comfort come from numbers, but as social beings we love to talk about ourselves (I know I do) and talk to others for reassurance. Because of this tendency, I think there is a societal expectation in which we are expected to be social beings in order to be normal. Therefore, it's unusual to eat in a restaurant alone or to be 40 years old and single. We seem to impose the things we want for ourselves onto others. Maybe that woman in the restaurant needed a break from the chaos in her household and wanted to enjoy her Mandarin Chicken entree in peace.

Though we crave the attention and atmosphere of being in a group, you have to admit, it takes a good deal of confidence to go to a restaurant and eat alone. 

Watch out for me next week having dinner by myself in a restaurant near by, but don't join me, I like my alone time.