A Dollar and Some “Change”

An ancient greek philosopher by the name of Heraclitus said “The Only Thing That Is Constant Is Change”. Whether it be subtle or monumental, change is an inevitable part of my life, to live is to change.

I am familiar with change, upon returning from my trip, I was greeted by a world much more foreign to me than the places I had visited. This place was back home with my mother and sister. The world that was home was a different place then when I had left two years before, and though not everything was different, it didn’t stop me from feeling lost and isolated. It had been weird returning to the room I had grown up in, the one that held my lingering childhood. I felt off, like had not grown with me in the last couple years, and stayed stagnant. I had to change that, bring it the years it missed.

The unfortunate part about change, is that I don’t get to pick the speed. Some things move too slow, such as getting a job, which always takes forever and a day. Others move too fast, like applications and days leading up to deadlines.  My pacing was all off and I needed to adjust.

Not all change was bad though, I was out of school for the first time ever and embarking on a new chapter of my life. I knew my dream was still in place, I still had some people who were my constant in my life. I worked forward and through many external and many more internal struggles, I got what I needed to done. I met some of my goals and it has been a long process but I have from grown from change.

Change was in everything, even within me. That change was erratic, as I felt the uneasiness of my footing in this strange land. Adapting and getting the things I needed took time and effort. With that time came the shifting seasons and the rotation of the season rich in holidays. With time, comes inevitable changing.

Now I find myself, for better or worse faced with much more change to come, a lot more growing to do, and many more avenues to explore. Though tough changes will come, it is in these hard times though that help define my character and whom I become. As I said before, to live is to change, and I am ready to change and grow along with it.

Being Pushed Down By Sickness

So… I got sick in the high germ season. Namely during the birthday which is always fun.  Starting on Sunday, and moving through the entire week, it is only now, Saturday, that I feel like I am getting all the way past being sick.  Being sick puts everything on hold, there is not avoiding it or rescheduling it, it just comes in like unwanted guests to a party and feels like it stay way to long, so by the time its over I am praising its departure.

The strange thing is that I get sick only once a year around the same period of time (just my luck that its always around my birthday).  Every year during my ailment, I always find myself thinking the same. I am thankful for getting sick in a small way, because it allows me to appreciate all the things that aren’t going wrong with my body most of the time.

It is also like a shaking awake of how fragile life can be sometimes, how sometimes life only works because I work on it. When something major goes awry, such as myself, everything seems so much more effortful, and how when I can’t maintain things around me, more fall apart like a set of dominos. Something that I can do without thinking, becomes a planned attack. Hills become mountains overnight as I have to fight the imposing feeling of illness.  Its like bring pushed down with a set of weights on, though it was easy to stand with them on, getting back up is much more difficult, crawling and grabbing onto whatever I can see within reach.

At the end of the day, it allows me to be thankful for what my body does for me on a regular basis. Carries me through life, and keeps me going everyday. Its always fighting for me, and yeah sometimes my body and I disagree of where and for how long I should exercise for but at the end of the day it is the only one I got so I have to take care of it.

So, thank you body for being there for me, I’ll try to eat less pizza.

Words, My Eternal Struggle With Language

This is a first post of course, but most who are reading this either know me or have really searched the internet to find this.  Either way introductions aren’t important. The important thing right now is to write and read. I have always wanted to write consistently and the eternal “now” is the best moment for it, as I have been told by a friend.

The whole point of this is to write how I feel and what I view the world as at the moment. This will change and these are just thoughts and ideas, take them as they are.

What I am having trouble with is being able to convey what I am mean to others.  It has been a life long issue of mine. Though most people would say that I do speak well, I have always had issues putting what is in my mind and articulating exactly what I mean. It’s a scary thought itself, knowing that what you say and do doesn’t translate to well to others. Especially since I want to pursue a career in relaying information to a large audience.

I first had trouble with writing. My handwriting was illegible from the moment I put down my first letter “A” and it only went down hill from there for a while. There were many hours spent trying to improve my penmanship including extra lessons, different writing utensils, and practice. It was a while before I got my printing and hand writing to just subpar enough to be understandable. Ironically when that happened people realized there wasn’t only an issue with how I was writing, but what I was wring. My grammar and syntax was out the window. Learning the commas, semicolon, and subject and predicate became a new challenge for me.  More time was spent on me trying to learn the basics.  This coupled with a poor understand on how to spell words correctly made english by far my least favorite subject. The struggle continued, I grew weary of writing and all that it entailed. It didn’t help that I found reading difficult, and it would take me longer to read things than most other people.  I preferred talking, speaking my mind, answering questions, and using that format instead of having to worry about all the rules of literature.  It was a freer form, where people didn’t have to worry about my handwriting and only actually be concerned with what I had to say.

This continued for a few more years, and until the start of the era of essays. Now trying to combine everything I have had difficulties with was a challenge, but I fought through it. Soon, most of my sentences made sense… just not together.  I had help from my parents though, and through careful editing I would pass classes.  The problem was, that the editing they did changed the style in which it was written. My words felt like they had left me and someone else’s voice jumped in.  I tried my best to improve but I always had this invisible wall between me and it.  Like I could see language, understand it, but it felt like we were two separate entities that would never align. This is the struggle I’ve had since the beginning but I always had a voice. One that would carry me and my personality beyond myself and into the world.

As I’ve come into more of my own, I noticed that regardless of how positive I am about everything in my life, this is the one area I feel weak and unable.  It is debilitating to be honest.  I know my weaknesses though and I work at it. Luckily, I always have had a voice to convey what I mean.  I’ve been trying other method, dictation, recording my thoughts and transcribing, and trying to talk through it. What I realized is that I don’t have a clear goal or path to my writing. It has always been a means to an end, a way to get by. I never really trusted it or relied on it. Now I might not have a choice. I’ve developed a habit of speaking that is like my writing. Formless, one that is not direct and difficult to understand exactly what I am trying to convey.  My statements come out wishy washy, incomplete,and overly fluffed.  I feel like I am losing myself to words, and my ability to articulate things. I need to fight back, and change things. I need my words now more than ever. If I don’t fight back and get my writing and speech back on track, then I will lose one most important things that makes me who I am, my voice.