Brandon Stanton's Blog, page 83

“I knew immediately. I get a breast exam every year, so I know...

“I knew immediately.  I get a breast exam every year, so I know what normal is supposed to look like.  I could see the tumor on the screen.  It was messy.  It was black.  But I didn’t feel shocked.  I was calm.  My surgery was scheduled for Valentine’s Day.  And you know what?  That was the most beautiful Valentine’s Day of my life.  Because I spent it taking care of myself.  I had a difficult childhood.  Then I had a very hard love story that lasted for twenty years.  And when that came to an end, I escaped into my work.  I was like a hamster in a wheel: faster, faster, faster.  It was easy to rationalize because I work in Women’s Rights.  I felt involved in something bigger than myself.  But I just wrote reports about the situation.  Honestly I changed myself much more than the country.  I was worn down.  I had no free time.  And my children are grown, so I was wondering if I had any reason to live anymore.  Then four months ago the cancer came.  It was a blessing in a shitty package.  It was something I couldn’t control.  And I was forced to accept that.  Right now I’m not doing anything.  I’m visiting with friends.  I’m taking time to relax.  I’m feeling grateful.  And I’m asking myself big questions: ‘Where would I like to live?’  ‘What would I like to do?’  Questions I never had the time to ask.  But most importantly I’m taking care of myself.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for my massage appointment.”
(Paris, France)

“I asked Santa for a really small dog that never grows...

“I asked Santa for a really small dog that never grows up.”
(Paris, France)

“My mother got blood cancer seven years ago. But she recovered,...

“My mother got blood cancer seven years ago.  But she recovered, and we had five more years after that.  Those years were the happiest moments of our lives.  We never knew how much time we had left, but we knew it was limited.  We’d always been best friends.  I told her my secrets.  She gave me advice.  She cooked for me like I was still a child.  But before the cancer, things were so casual.  She was always around.  Nothing seemed important.  She was strong.  She was independent.  She didn’t seem to need attention.  But when she was given a new life, I cherished her more.  I became nicer.  Softer.  More sensitive to her needs.  We started hugging.  We hadn’t hugged since childhood, but we started hugging.  I can be difficult sometimes.  I’m stubborn.  I don’t agree easily.  But she never had to convince me again.  I took her to restaurants, movies, weddings.  I found her artificial hair so she looked beautiful again.  I sewed her the best dresses ever.  I wanted to make her new life comfortable.  And it was.  It was the happiest she’s ever been.  Eventually the cancer came back.  It’s been over two years since she passed.  For the longest time I cried like a baby.  In the office.  In the car.  At church.  She was my best friend.  The world feels empty without her.  Even last night I dreamed about her.  But I know I must move on.  I still think about her all the time.  But now I don’t always cry.  Sometimes I smile.”
(Paris, France)

“My mom has a lot of heels and I put them on when she can’t see...

“My mom has a lot of heels and I put them on when she can’t see but she always catches me because I never put them back in the right place.  One time I even scratched the floor of her room but she hasn’t found that yet because I rubbed it out like Cinderella.”
(Barcelona, Spain)

“I’ve worked all my life as an office clerk. But when I was...

“I’ve worked all my life as an office clerk.  But when I was young I dreamed of being an important writer.  I won some prizes in my town.  But mainly I used writing as a weapon, because I was completely in love with a girl who liked reading.  At the time she was dating another boy in class who played basketball.  He was popular.  Quite a bit taller than me.  Eventually he went on to play for the national team.  And I was so shy.  I could barely speak to her.  At the end of the year I wrote her a long letter declaring my love.  She broke up with the basketball player over the summer, and when I returned to school the following year, she’d written ‘Yes’ on my desk.  Everything changed.  The world had light and color.  There was no more rain.  We’d go walking in the town center.  We went dancing.  But when Christmas came around, she told me she needed to talk.  She was getting back together with the basketball player.  So I played all my cards.  I wrote a short story.  It was about two soldiers competing for a woman’s love.  One of them was a powerful lieutenant.  The other was a simple soldier, who loved her more and later died in battle.  When I finished I asked her to read it.  She told me it was very nice, then married the basketball player.”  
(Madrid, Spain)

“Something happened the second year of college. I grew very...

“Something happened the second year of college.  I grew very hard on myself.  I became sad, and disappointed, and angry.  But then I met a girl, the first I’d ever been with.  And everything was postponed for a while.  I felt energized.  I was even doing my homework.  But now we’ve broken up, and I’m having to face all the stuff that the relationship allowed me to ignore.  I’m overthinking everything: ‘What should I do?  What shouldn’t I do?’  But the actual doing never happens because I have no motivation.  I’m sad all the time.  It’s worst when I go to bed, and I realize that I haven’t done anything, and that I won’t do it tomorrow either.  A lot of people believe in me, but they’re getting tired because I’m not there yet.  And it’s not their responsibility anyway, it’s mine.  I’m just afraid I’ll never get back to the way I used to feel.  The feeling of being awake.  And loving myself.  And getting out of the house.  And exercising.  And going to the beach.  And hanging out with friends on Sunday evenings.  And thinking just the right amount of thoughts.  No suspicions.  Or criticisms.  Or fears of the future.  Only the thoughts that are useful.  The thoughts I need in this moment.”
(Madrid, Spain)

“I liked drugs, but that wasn’t the reason. And it wasn’t that...

“I liked drugs, but that wasn’t the reason.  And it wasn’t that I needed money either.  I had money.  I just wanted more of it.  Back then I could rob every bank in the city and nobody would notice.  There were hardly any cameras.  I robbed about thirty before I even got caught.  But one night when I was twenty-five years old, I went to rob a jewelry store.  The guy was a criminal himself.  He bought jewelry from thieves.  Of course I thought he’d panic and give me the money, but he pulled a gun on me.  So I shot him twice.  I only meant to shoot him once but I squeezed the trigger too hard.  He ended up losing an arm.  And I went to jail for thirteen years, that son of a bitch.  He should have just stayed put.  Now I’m 62.  I’m a veteran.  I just got out of jail for the seventh time in December.  I’m sleeping on this bench.  Looking back, it’s been a horrible life.  I should have done things differently.  I should have invested the money I stole.”
(Madrid, Spain)

“People take you to fun places when you’re five, but...

“People take you to fun places when you’re five, but unfortunately you also have to study difficult topics.  Today I had to write ‘toothbrush’ in all capital letters.”
(Madrid, Spain)

“When I was younger, I had dreams of discovering something big....

“When I was younger, I had dreams of discovering something big.  I’m a historian.  I specialize in the end of the Roman Empire.  And I always wanted to uncover something flashy and exciting that would fascinate people.  I don’t mean that I’d actually dig something out of the ground.  I’m more of a bookworm.  I imagined myself in a reading room of the National Library, stumbling across something that others had overlooked.  But it never happened.  I’m 54 now.  I’m slowing down a bit.  And looking back, I don’t think I was ever a pioneer in anything I did.  I grew to realize that knowledge is a community, and my role would be to add a tiny grain of rice to the pile.  But that was still exciting for me.  Learning new things was the biggest passion of my life.  It was only frustrating when I tried to share that knowledge.  I had to accept that my passion isn’t universal, and in the end my work might only benefit a few people.  But that’s OK.  A few months ago I received a call from a teacher in Italy.  She told me that she’d read all my works.  And that she agreed with my interpretations.  And that she planned to incorporate them into her own work.  It was a wonderful feeling to know that my books weren’t just gathering dust in a library somewhere.  And that even if I didn’t blaze a path, I helped widen it for others”
(Madrid, Spain)

“People take you to fun places when you’re five, but unfortunately you also have to study difficult...

“People take you to fun places when you’re five, but unfortunately you also have to study difficult...