Within my thousand thoughts

I’m finally letting myself have this hour or so to completely be away from studying. To be honest, it hasn’t been an all too productive study session today … still, it’s something.
However, I’ve realised that if I ever need to instantly feel depressed, all I need to do is open up an accounting textbook. I actually really like my job but passionately dislike the background studying I have to do for it.


I recently got a nomination from my not yet grounded friend for the One Lovely Blog Award. Apart from feeling grateful, I felt blank. It’s been a year now since I started blogging. Finding my own style, sorting out my passions and picking directions to take my writing has been like journeying through a collaboration of mazes, never-ending. You see at first, I found it extremely intimidating to say ‘yes’ to putting myself, my thoughts and ideas, online for people to read, relate to, enjoy, judge and … reject. I still find it a little intimidating and a lot of the time, I second think publishing the thoughts that trek my mind but being able to express myself so randomly, as I have, has settled me mentally and … inside, I’m more balanced … even if what I’ve written in the past says otherwise.

What have I learned this past year? Well, first of all, it’s astonishing to realise that it’s only been a year. Emotionally and mentally, I feel battered. Physically, I could be better. But spiritually, I’m glad to be as open as I am right now. I reckon I’ve cried more than I have had my periods, and I’m on regular cycles (sorry for the ‘too much info’ here). I’ve had to re-teach myself the meaning of living and loving a thousand times over and I think I’m now getting it.

The best lesson I’ve learnt this past year is the need to live my life with passion. It sounds obvious but you need to know what your passion is to be able to live it. I hadn’t had a clue before, now, I have quite a few. The arts of trust, truth, giving and believing … can never be completely documented with words. These masterpieces have touched me deeply; gifted with new appreciation for the simplest and simpler tones and patterns of the caring hands that hold me, help me, accept me.

Can’t isn’t part of a man’s vocabulary” (… something like that)(Love and Basketball, 2000). Hearing this line today felt like a wake up call. I’ve hidden myself. Imprisoned myself in my house, sentencing myself with excuses for made up study and family committment crimes. Silencing my thoughts with routines patrolled by conventional schedules that had always bored me. I’d spread myself thin across the board again. I struggled to say no to studying and working at the same time because being without money is troublesome. Yet, I can easily turn down a date or any chance of finding ‘my man,’ to the point where I find it easier to stay home than have lunch and chats over coffee with my friends, even if ‘free’ was the ransome fee. This weekend was no different … need to kick this nasty case of anti-socialism. Mind you, I’ve updated my music collection with so many of my favourite r&b songs, old and new, that I’ve always wanted to have ready to play … I feel complete.

The paper chasing grind is awaiting me when I awake in the morning. So on a final reflection:

I feel I’ve done a 360 and now careful to not be repeating what was done, that’s just painful and crazy. My past’s reputation isn’t glamorous, and I doubt I could ever redeem myself. I’m trying not to be phased by it although recollections haunt and hurt. I went from not caring to praying for everyone I close to my heart.

And despite my sentimental ways, I still have regular spurts of random quirks and philosophies, nothing ideas, cocky remarks and sensual descriptions of my day to play with and express in free-verses, rhymes and lengthy stories. This has been the shortened story of me.


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