Today marks my first year in this "sliver of an island that is the center of everything," in the words of my friend, Oliver—who, turns out, is currently immersed in the pages of Ayn Rand's
Atlas Shrugged.
I still remember the first time I'd picked up
The Fountainhead, also by the author. At nineteen, and in the middle of college, I had just moved out from living with relatives and I'd popped by my dad's office to let him know I would be occupying his unused room in the apartment he shared with his sister.
"Buy this book, it has everything you need to know," he said, referring to the thick novel I'd seen around growing up, but never really bothered to pick up because, well, it was... quite hefty. But when I got past the first 100 pages, I knew why my dad had purposefully written its name on a little sheet of paper and sent me to the nearest National Bookstore to make the purchase (with his money, presumably).
True enough, the two books above have helped shape the way I've lived my life for the last 10 years—personally and most importantly, professionally. It's hard to explain in just one entry the philosophy behind these novels. Basically, they herald one's performing in full capacity, getting the job done silently, passionately, and being a good citizen/employee/friend, minus the hooplah and drama.
Ayn Rand is famous for this philosophy of "objectivism." But what makes her work in
Fountainhead and
Atlas groundbreaking is that she was able to integrate the complicated philosophical musings into intricate, entertaining stories—with richly-drawn characters you either aspire to be or cringe to be. In recent months, I have been amazed at how she was able to put into words certain observations I've made personally from living in the U.S.
So now I am onto rereading these books, and hopefully, be inspired and motivated once more by what they represent. These, along with a steadfast faith in God and a strong belief that life is good, life is abundant, I know I'll be looking forward to more happy anniversaries in the future.
A stained-glass-adorned ceiling that supposedly costs millions of dollars.
"When I grow up, my house will have huge fountains of dark and white chocolate."
"The only seafood buffet in Las Vegas," according to the Rio poster.
The dancing water show. (I need the correct name.)
It was nice how they lit the ceiling to make it look like daytime, anytime.
"Shining, shimmering, splendid..."
Lakers vs. Sacramento. Please don't ask me about basketball.
I haven't bought a pair of goggles and a swim cap in years. Actually, make that, never. Growing up in the 80s, my family had an assortment of swimming paraphernalia to satisfy every kind of water baby: from the serious and not-so-serious adult lap swimmers, down to the languid loungers (us kids).
Week 2 of freelancing and surprisingly I’m… having fun. After give or take two or three weeks of being paralyzed by fear, wanting to sleep all day, and getting my new ‘office’ in order (Staples and cables now in place), I am now settling into a workable routine. One good hair day at a time.
What used to be a morning dilemma of what fabulous outfit to start the week right (along with subway-friendly heels that are high enough to make me reach the stainless steel bars yet comfy enough to keep bunions a distant future concern) has become a happy ritual of donning my new apple red apron from Crate and Barrel. True, I miss the beautiful cafeteria at my former office, but right now I’m amazed at how I’m NOT spending at all. And my finances—though skeletal at the moment—are developing the backbone needed for a stable, disciplined, money-smart future. It’s true when you’re slapped with an unexpected lesson, you learn hard—and fast.
Today marks my first year in this "sliver of an island that is the center of everything," in the words of my friend, Oliver—who, turns out, is currently immersed in the pages of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged.
