I like to mess with people's minds.

I am not willing to fit into the boxes people are so ready to place me in. (yes, I know it's bad to end a sentence with a preposition and I don't care.) I am not willing to play along just so they can simplify their own definitions of the world and its people. I am not willing to be a representative of anything but myself. I am not all women. I am not all Turkish people. I am not all managers. I am not all anything. I am only me and I am not generic. (wow, Rony would be proud.)

I curse. I tell people that I am going to 'pee' or that 'I have my period' just to see their reaction to the words being uttered. I have true male friends. I hate to shop. I am overly emotional and extremely analytical all in one. I can be incredibly mean and truly compassionate. I say it like I see it. I don't fuck around or play games with people. I like to wear heels. I am clumsy and not dainty. I am not your typical woman. I don't believe in the existence of a typical woman. While I understand that stereotypes exist for a reason, I am frustrated by the way in which people use them to make people feel alienated.

When I moved to the United States there were several circumstances in which people assumed I'd like a particular food because I was Jewish. Examples? Bagels and Chinese food. I had never had the former and hated the latter. Expectations lead to disappointment. And I've spent too many years not meeting other people's expectations of me.

So now I fuck with them.

I say it out loud. I do it in public. I force the judgmental people in my life to face their incorrect assumptions. It is my punishment for their not taking the time to get to know me as a person. If you're placing me in the same box as everyone else, if you're going to be lazy, you deserve it.

If there's one common theme across all my friendships, it's that these people aren't simple. I have yet to meet someone who doesn't have layers. Some hide it better than others but all humans are less simple than we often assume. And I am tired of other people making the call on what I should and should not do. What's okay for me to feel. What's acceptable for me to say. What's acceptable for me to think.

The sad thing is we all do it in some way. We all have assumptions about categories of human beings and we all categorize humans, as an intelligent commenter noted earlier this month. But what we don't do is to rethink it. We don't work all that hard to get to know an individual. We don't allow for people to be multi-faceted, living in multiple boxes, having multiple sides.

Somewhere in our childhood, the norms become clearly defined and straying from the norm becomes a sign of abnormality, and therefore, inferiority. The funny thing is that by the time we're adults, almost all of us have strayed from the norm in one way or another. For many years, I've handled my abnormalities with a sense of shame and downplayed them as much as possible.

Not anymore. Somewhere along the line, I decided that 'I'm me and if you don't like it, tough' and I've also decided that what makes me me are those abnormalities. Those exceptions to the rules. So I wear them with pride and mess with people's assumptions. That's my way of letting them know it's not okay to categorize and then chastise people for not fitting in.

I am so much more than a category. Aren't you?

Previously? Jitters.

I've been freaking out about the upcoming wedding.

For one reason or another, I seem to find an opportunity to break down about it weekly. A good friend of mine says I have the jitters.

I guess it depends on your definition.

I've always associated wedding jitters with worry related to the person you're marrying. If we use my definition, I definitely don't have the jitters. I've been with Jake for over seven years and I've had a lot of time to think whether he's the sort of man I can spend forever with or not. I've had opportunities to meet tons of other people and still am fully convinced that he's my favorite person in the world.

Bar none.

So if Jake's not the problem, why are you freaking out? one might ask. It appears there's more to getting married than the man with whom you're tying the knot.

One big part of it is the actual wedding party. What has become apparent to me is that it's impossible for us to have a truly low-key wedding. So the bigger the wedding gets, the more concerned I become. The more chance things might not go as planned, especially since I didn't plan all that much. Not to mention, I have only been to three weddings in my life, one of which was my sister's, none of which was American. So I can't even swing it since I don't know the list and order in which things are done.

But the bigger issue isn't the day, it's the 'forever.' The fact that I am old, adult and mature enough to make a decision that will last forever. Before you go into your diatribe on how marriages aren't necessarily forever and I'm allowed to change my mind and stuff, I would like to note that I plan for mine to be forever. I understand that things can change and it might not end up being forever but, if it's alright with you, I'd like to plan on having it last forever. Marriage, to me, is the first step I've made as an adult. College, moving to the United States, moving into my own apartment, starting a job, quitting a career, moving in with my boyfriend have all seemed less permanent. Less daunting.

And I can't exactly put my finger on why this is so daunting, but I know that it is. I know that it means more responsibility. It means more mature behavior. It is a door to more responsibility, such as having children. It's a step where I can see the tunnel that is the rest of my life. Jake is someone I want by me for each of the steps I will make down that tunnel. So I know I chose the right person.

But I'm just scared that I could have chosen the wrong tunnel. And I'd like to reserve the right to switch. And somehow, until now I felt like I could move around and take different paths, but now that I will be married, everyone will be expecting me to walk down this one specific path and I am more likely to screw up.

So would that be categorized as having the jitters?

Previously? Richter at the MOMA.

Previously? Jundgmental Banter.

Here's something I've learned from having spent ten years in a foreign country: it's easy to judge others.

One would think I could have had this lesson in my home country. Or that it should have nothing to do with countries at all. And one would be right. Being judgmental seems to be human nature. It's our way of vocalizing something that we don't approve. It's our way of criticizing and speaking up. All of which is within one's right, or it should be. Each person is entitled to his or her own opinion on all matters. The fact that it's your opinion means it's yours and no one can tell you otherwise.

So I've been working hard at reminding myself that when people criticize my choices, my actions, my thoughts, my feelings and my country, they have a right to feel or think the way they do. What bothers me, however, is the quickness with which people judge. Most people I know never bother to learn all sides of a matter and never care to listen to an opposing view.

If a person wants to upgrade a thought from opinion to declaration or even something that they believe is worth discussing, I think it's crucial for that person to have completed the appropriate research. I could come to you and say, "I think three-year-old boys are stupider than three-year-old girls." And if you have any interest in discussing this subject matter with me (which might be debatable after you hear the biased and ignorant way in which I worded my claim) you'd ask me what my sources are. Where is my data? How exactly do I define "stupid"? What is the pool of three-year-olds I have researched? Was this a controlled experiment? For my statement to be anything more than something I pulled out of thin air, I must have some examples and data to back it up.

The same goes for history. It's easy for someone to have opinions on who did wrong when it comes to some of the world's major historical blunders. But even with 20/20 hindsight, it's nearly impossible to prove that one's opinion is more valid than another's. It's easy for you to sit in your chair and say that a country that's oceans away from your living room should do such-and-such to put a stop to the terrible situation over there. Yet, who are we to say exactly what's going on?

I'm always amazed at the way people react when they find out that I'm Turkish. Over the ten years, I've heard just about anything and everything. How this was our fault and that was our fault, etc. Not that I'm disagreeing about anything specific but I really do doubt that most of these people know anything about Turkey besides the few lines they've read in their history books or heard from another opinioned source. At least I'm honest enough to admit that my education and exposure was biased and that I don't know all the facts. I don't know the situation and such I am not really willing to pass judgement.

While I completely agree that taking any human's life is an awful act and we shouldn't be killing people, especially as aimlessly as it appears to be lately, I also understand how complicated the world is and how near impossible it is to place blame. It's never one person's fault. Often times, there are deep-rooted problems that require years and years of work to reach a possible resolution. And maybe I am naive, but I do believe that people don't enjoy killing others. Even the most evil-seeming ones do it out of a corrupt or confused sense of justice, but not for the sake of senseless murder. Not that it makes it excusable. It just allows me to keep my sense of faith in the world, I suppose.

I love America. To me it's the homeland I never had. I feel like it's where I was meant to live all along. And I also love Turkey; it's a crucial part of my identity, one that I have always been proud to vocalize. And when I hear people criticize either nation, I feel protective urges rise within me. I feel like telling people that they are unappreciative and bitter. But then I listen. In case they have something valuable to say. To hear the meat behind their opinions. To see if they've done their research. To find out if it's anything besides judgmental banter.

So that I can learn.

Previously? Shedding.

Spring might finally be coming to New York City.

This winter has been one of the most eventful and thrilling in my life. The roller coaster ride that is my life has reached new levels and promises to get even steeper. It's not that I don't think of writing my site all the time like I used to, it's just that I recognize it for what it is now. I began it cause I thought it would be fun to unleash my thoughts onto the web. I went through the "please read me" obsession and made a lot of adjustments over the first few months. As a good student I complied with my inner regulation that I shall write every day. A little voice in me kept repeating that people would stop coming if I stopped updating regularly. I accomplish. I finish the things that I start. And nothing, no trip, or person was to stop me from doing my daily homework by posting my site.

And then September came and went and my belief system, which was already on its last legs, shattered.

I like the fact that snakes shed their skin. I wish I could shed my skin each time I wanted to. In the last few months I've realized that I live my life according to other people's priorities more often than I'd like to. We all grow up listening to rules that the adults around us present. Between birth and adulthood, there are many adults who come in and out of our lives like parents and other family members, teachers, baby sitters, mentors, managers, etc. Each person comes with his or her own baggage and each person pushes us different ways. In my life, I have met very few adults who've encouraged me to find out what I want and who I am. People have promoted me and helped me walk the path that I claimed I wanted. But no one pushed me to discover myself.

I don't mean to imply that people stood in my way or that I wasn't allowed to be me. I mean I don't think I knew what "being me" was. Looking around me, I don't think this is a rare phenomenon. I guess what's unusual is my need to work on getting to know me, getting to be me. Which is an ongoing challenge since who I am seems to change constantly. This makes me think that the struggle - and joy - of getting to know me could take forever.

My life until now has been all about the destination. All about the path that would take me there. All about reaching, working, struggling and achieving. I think that now I'm ready for some living. You might think that quitting a part-time, somewhat cushy job for a challenging and scary new career might not be the best way to start living, but I think that's exactly the way.

Leaving the old skin behind to grow a new one.

One that might not lead anywhere. One that might just be a side trip on my journey. One that might even be the biggest mistake I will have made. One that I am determined to make the most of. One that will change my life. One that has already changed my life.

While I see the value of a destination, I want to take a break and enjoy the journey. Sink into the moment. Pay attention inward. Pay attention outward. Pay attention in general.

That might be why I am not so sad about not writing my site daily anymore. I know that when the need comes back, it will still be there and I will do it again. Until then, intermittent is good enough for me.

Spring is coming to New York and I am ready for it.

Previously? Together but Apart.