As a writer, I’m always trying to fine tune my voice. I read a lot of books and articles, listen to music, and watch Ted Talks to inspire me. I tend to gravitate towards raw, emotionally intelligent and honest expressionists.
No voice has moved me as much as Heather Havrilesky, who goes by the alias “Ask Polly”. Heather is a columnist for New York Magazine, but her witty, no-bullshit advice has been floating around the internet for years. In times of vulnerability, I’ve constantly read through her impressive collection of advice about work, purpose, love and family.
I aspire to have the kind of emotional impact she has with words.
Over the years, this blog has evolved from a bucket list, to a travel blog, to more of a collection of lifestyle/motivational pieces. Honestly, I fear the shelf life of that kind of content. I fear that in time, no one will care what I think. That’s why I admire writers like Heather, who have the unique ability to address overly expressed relationship/work/family issues without seeming redundant or stale.
It makes me feel like perhaps I won’t unintentionally portray myself as a disillusioned, narcissistic know-it-all that claims to have a real grasp of the human condition. Because most of the time, I have no idea what I’m doing. All I have is an understanding of myself, how I see the world, and empathy for others, and respect for how they see the world.
So in 2013, when I got an email from a reader asking me for advice, I was taken aback. I was in England at the time house-sitting. After reading through the paragraphs of context, I ran a bath.
I recall slowly creeping my body down, so my chin was just touching the water. The words echoed, metaphorically bouncing off the walls of the bathroom:
“You know when you are driving and you’re so absorbed in your own thoughts, you finally get to your destination and you can’t really recall how you got there, like can’t specifically remember landmarks or anything about the trip?”
“That’s kind of how I feel with my life right now. Everything is kind of dull and muted.”
“I’m lost in my own thoughts and ideas with no idea how I got to this point.”
I felt unnerved. I didn’t know what to say. But I eventually got out of the tub and despite my fear, I responded.
I reread that email the other day. Back in 2013, I told this person to find what he/she loved and to stick to it. I told them not to get discouraged by failure. I encouraged them to be honest and raw, even if it seemed cliche. I told them to learn EVERYTHING they could from the people they’d meet.
But the thing I was most insistent on – the thing that resonates the most with me now, was this snippet of advice:
“And if all else fails, remember this,” I wrote. “Sometimes mistakes are fate.”
I don’t remember what inspired me to write that. It’s surprising that I did. It seems out of character, as I constantly harp on certainty, on this “fuck yes or no” existence, that requires constant confidence in everything you do. It’s amazing that in one point of my life, I recognized that there are some things that are out of your control.
A part of me wishes that I could email that same Melissa, and ask what made her so confident in that reply.
But I get the gist of what she/me said. Life is so incredibly complex, and detailed. It’s impossible to digest/fully take in every singular, tiny moment of our lives. We can’t understand or rationalize everything.
This world has a life of it’s own.
I do want to add something to that, though. Sometimes mistakes are fate…and it’s nearly impossible to guess why. At times we get lucky – we decide not to drive down X road one day, and find out there was an accident there. We never heard back from that cute girl/guy and we meet someone better.
More often than not, we never find out. Some things just don’t work, and we live in a universe that doesn’t always tell us why. We’re just left with ideas, assumptions and clues, and it’s up to us to give meaning to it.