No-filter, Narrow, Select-and-Commit

Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

Starting a new life adventure is exciting. During these first six months, I observed interesting, gradual shifts in my mindset.

No-filter stage. For the first ninety days, I threw myself into this new city by meeting local friends, exploring cafes and bookstores, checking out new restaurants, and checking off popular attractions. Like a squirrel, I chased shining objects, running, running, and running.

The pace and attitude felt similar to being on a two-week vacation away from a 9-5 and making the best of everything as quickly as possible. I didn’t offer restaurant suggestions and relied on my friends to make reservations. I was determined to claim the move a success and “loved” it all. I’m okay with this.

Narrow stage. Slowly, I found small footholds amid shining objects. Learning is a pillar in my life. I signed up for classes. Philosophy, which I missed in college. Languages for the first time since junior high school. Personal care is another pillar addressing the basics. Finding doctors, hairstylists, and masseuses whom I can trust. I finally understood when cashiers asked me if I had the Government Receipt App. Setting up a new life takes time, and it happened day by day.

Select-and-commit stage. Life always settles into a routine of repeating a few selective activities day after day, powered by intrinsic motivation. Now, I find myself planning for the longer term.

I’m in no way good at the Narrow and Select-and-Commit; I would go back and forth for a while, I imagine.

Somewhere between those two stages, I applied for job openings. Working might be another good way of integrating with the new city. It might also be that old habits die hard. Having work friends, challenging missions, and a salary would be nice. But given my age and background (not knowing any professional contacts here), it wouldn’t be easy to open new doors and find something I enjoy.

My cousin Chao reacted to my opportunistic job search by saying, “What? What happened? Isn’t retirement nice?” He and a few others cautioned about the work culture, which would be demanding and stressful. I nodded in agreement. Then, after another job application, “You are really struggling with working or not working.” A camp of my friends thinks retirement means not working at stressful, money-making corporations. Why would I?

A girlfriend said, “You can do whatever you want. Work if you want. Quit if you want. Come back to Boston even if you want.” That’s the beauty of it. If I want to work again, I can take time finding something I truly enjoy . Another said, "Stop thinking like you are from Cornell. What about working at a bookstore or a cafe?" Am I limited to what I know? Do I only know one trick in life?

Two weeks ago, an artist friend sent me a TED Talk video on “The case for making art when the world is on fire,” when I told her I hadn’t been writing here. She said, “Keep at it. I have lows too. But I keep creating.” This past weekend, a friend from Boston spoke enthusiastically of my dream of writing, of what I told him six months ago, right before I left. I’m lucky I have friends who remind me of my big dreams.

Some of the “distractions of a new city” are fading, and I’m back to a few big-ticket items that consistently come back to me. How about a Master’s in Creative Writing? What about that novel I want to write?

I wonder if I want to write as much as I say I do, as my mind seems to have shifted from extrinsic to intrinsic motivation in the last few days.