Friday, 4 August 2017

I hate it...

...when I have to honestly look at a situation and ask myself, "Why does it bother me so much?"  I hate it because it invariably means that there is something deep, something underlying that I don't yet realize is the real reason.

As quickly as it came, it went.
Like a matchstick
Finding friction
Striking fire,
Illuminating the monsters
That I kept hidden in the dark,
And extinguishing abruptly
From my panicked reaction.

That was him.  I don't know who he was.  Now he's gone.

Thursday, 27 July 2017

The other night...

...as I sat on the phone with a colleague, who happens to be on vacation, trying to draft something for work, I glanced at my clock and realized it was past 11 pm.  I had been at it since 5 pm.  I thought, "I always figure there's no harm when I do a thing or two in the evenings, that it's just one email or a small task, but it never actually is.  It's realistically a few hours, or my evening.  It's my dinner plans getting interrupted, or company getting ignored."

No wonder I'm tired.  I need to be more cognizant of the tiny tasks that are exhausting me, then take the time back.

Wednesday, 26 July 2017

And we're back!

I didn't think I would bring this blog back. I thought I was done when I deleted it last December. I suppose I knew deep down inside that it wouldn't be permanent. My breaks from it never have been, so why would that change now?

In truth, I was only going to open this blog so I could search for some things I'd written years ago that I wanted to share with someone new that I'd met.  I got to scrolling and remembered how much joy I found in capturing my feelings. Written expression has always been a big part of my identity, and while a blog is not a requirement to write, without one, I have failed to do any.

I can think of several reasons for this, the most salient being that I haven't gotten to know anyone new in a little while.  Part of the fun of writing was expressing my thoughts and feelings to share it with someone who cared to read it.

I've been in need and in search of inspiration to motivate me. I have been questioning my existence for months now. I always thought it was people who inspired me because of the impact they had on the world, but it's more than that. It's also the direct impact they have on me. I'm looking for connection.

I might have to finally admit it. I might be lonely. Not in a romantic way. Rather, in an intellectual way. Is insightful conversation still possible in this age?  Or is it a dead art?

I'm not so desperate for connection as to search for it, accept it from anyone, or even expect to find it. I'd still choose loneliness over knowingly compromising my interests and concerns and opinions just to have company.  That I know for certain.

Sometimes I forget...

...how grateful I should be that my parents were so liberal with me.  Don't get me wrong, the older I get the more I appreciate it.  I just ... sometimes forget that not everyone was afforded the liberties that mine had so unapologetically given me.  It is inconceivable to me that I would defer to my parents - or anyone - for their permission to do .. anything.  I would come to them for advice, to discuss my thoughts on ... whether or not to join band, quit pageants, attend a trip, go to a party, watch a movie, read a book.   I have never had to seek permission. I sought advice.  So when I chat with a friend, and hear about how their parents wouldn't let them do this, or banned that, demanded this, or refused that, I actually find it perplexing.

It makes no sense to me.  Now that I'm well into my thirties, thinking about this makes me chuckle.  It explains some huge failures in communication I've had with people over the years.

There was never going to be anyone who made me do anything. I have always, and will always, do what I think is best, and that decision will always be my own.
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