regrets, moving forward

well, the conference was quite something. when something's called a "Networking Conference," don't underestimate the meaning of that. I can't believe how many people I met, and how many more amazing people were there who I didn't meet. If you're interested in hearing more, let me know.

And yet, I'm left with more questions than answers, as I journey toward some kind of tangible goal and life's work/interest. I'm left with questions about the role of non-profit work in America, and the foundation/grant cycle. and the degree to which things are ever black and white.

And I return to my constant battle with radicalism vs incrementalism. I thought grad school was turning me into more of an incrementalist. But yet when I'm faced with a hotel full of incrementalists, I end up siding with the radicals....
who knows?
what to do?

I'm left with many questions, and possibly many regrets. I know regrets are useless and parasitic. But I wish I had spent time doing passionate things like traveling and farming before feeling the need to be responsible and jump into the seriousness of grad school. Now I'm left feeling like I've missed out on more than I ever could have imagined.

I met some amazing folks, of all ages, but the youth were the most inspiring. the dreamers and the livers. not the deciders.

I saw some beautiful film clips and publicity photos. I have an image in my head of urban gardening and painting murals with kids, the echo of reggae music providing a frame, which seems like the ideal life. I know I don't need much to live on, but with impending student loans, even this image seems like a utopian dream.

With each exam and paper, am I resigning myself to a life of memos, office work and vitamin D deficiency? of black slacks and neat hairstyles? of cabs and conferences? isn't this what I wanted? Isn't this the only life I've ever lived? Others talked of growing up on farms, of agricultural grandmothers. I have nothing of the sort to ground me, only toiling city-dwellers, penny-pinching neuroses. But does that matter? Reinventing yourself is pretty fuckin hard. But it's awfully depressing not to.