WORDS, MY ETERNAL STRUGGLE WITH LANGUAGE:​ Revisited 3

I never really know what’s going to come out when I sit down to a page. I might have an idea about what I want to touch on but the words themselves only appear once I am sitting in front of my keyboard typing.

I have been thinking about this type of chaotic flow that bursts forth, this stream of conscious type of writing. While it has its benefits I find that the flow and quality of the post are lacking in some ways because of it. Without this plan, it sometimes feels like I’m stitching together an elaborate asynchronous quilt hoping that at the end of the day whatever comes out is coherent.

This form of writing stems from this frustration of not being able to put what I am thinking down on a page.  Regardless of how much I plan, there is a strange disconnect between my brain and my hands preventing the perfect prose from pouring out.  The compromise I’ve come to is that if my thoughts happen at the exact moment of my writing then there is no way I can mess it up.

I think the progress I have made in the last several years because of this method is evident in the way I put these words together but I feel like there’s another step I need to take. I want for my words to flow into sentences, which flow into paragraphs, which flow into one cohesive story.  A unit that is greater than the sum of its parts. This would require more planning and forethought I have been putting into my posts, what it will require is more time than I have at the moment. What it will require is me planning and preparing for this each week so that I can progress. I want this because if I continue to practice I may be able to go from a decent writer to a good one. One that people look forward to reading.

Ultimately, I’ve taken this year and used this blog as a means to cope and contend with the struggles brought on by going back to school. I’ve filled posts thoughts and feelings about this process in return, this blog has provided me with a sense of solace and grounding. I want to expand its reach, overcome these challenges growing week by week until I am where I want to be.  It’s this slow process that ultimately brings change, and change is what I need. At the end of the day I’m just an inquisitve piglet so thank you for sticking it out with me another year, I promise this next one will be even better.

Here is a link to my previous posts, I went back to read them and I am happy to see my progress over these last three years.
Year One | Year Two | Year Three

A Challenge To The New Year

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I usually know the end of the month I usually devote talking what it’s like being a guy but I don’t want the miss the opportunity to talk about how the end of the year and the start of a new one gives up a time to reflect upon ourselves and change our lives, which the blog has spent so much time devoted to. So next month there will be a double post of the World In The Life Of A Guy bringing that series to its end of regular serialization after a year to pursue other topics. This has been a great year, full of ups and downs and but for now, I want to look forward, forward to the new year.

Why is the new year so synonymous with change? Not to be pedantic, but what do we feel happens between 11:59PM New Years Eve and 12:00AM New Years Day?  Is there some sort of magical moment where we metamorphize from our past selves to this new self that is much more capable than the one before.  From my experience, life rarely works that way.  What I do know is that we do not gain some sort of extra motivation or discipline from holidays.  Though I don’t doubt that the new year is a great moment to try new things especially with all the great deals that usually come along with the holiday season, planning for change, at least for me, doesn’t work.  It’s like buying an ice cream cone and waiting until you get home to eat it, chances are when you get there, the ice cream will have already melted. I know that taking advantage of the motivation as it comes as it is kindling to start something new and if I wait too long I won’t have the same strength to carry it through.

This doesn’t answer what I want from the new year.  Last year and the year before I had planted the seeds for a future I wanted, and this year is the year I take care of and prune those plants so they will grow.  This is not to say that new and unusual things aren’t on the docket, but I feel in learning to nurture progress, my investments will come to bear fruit.
There are things that I am dissatisfied with.  I have come a long way to fix and foster my relationships, but in some ways, I have fallen short.  I feel like I need to put myself out there and find a way to make sure the people who love me know I love them back.  I am dissatisfied with my eating and spending habits, though I put effort I am not where I want to be, and I want to change that. I am dissatisfied with my work ethic, though it has come a long way, I still find myself under the control of the whims of the day, throwing off what I intend to get done and the timing of how I want it to be done by.
These aside, there will always be dissatisfactions in my life, to strive is to live, and to live is to work.  This new year, I will take as a blessing and push myself to learn as much as I can, keeping an open mind and open heart to the way the world works and always working towards what I think is the right path and what is good. I am lucky, I have people around me who pursue their dreams, and who push back upon the void and create something beautiful from nothing.  I am fortunate to be frustrated and want more for myself. I am happy that when I look around, I feel like there is always more I can do, and that what I want do it if I only put my mind and spirit into to it.

2018 is a year to grow and change, feed and prune, to pursue and accomplish.  Goodbye 2017, you were good to me.  Hello 2018, I am coming for you.

Though I don’t say this every time, if anyone ever needs help or wants to talk I am here to listen, you are not alone there in the dark.

WORDS, MY ETERNAL STRUGGLE WITH LANGUAGE:​ Revisited 2

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People don’t believe me when I say I’m not good at English.  It was never the class I enjoyed going to, and I always felt like I never understood what the rules were for the great communication game.  See for me, words pour out of my mouth like a container full of liquid, with limited grace and an inability to separate one drop from the next. I speak in circles and talk continuously when I really should be listening but I can’t help it at times, its how I deal with at times persistent anxious feeling that arises from the sound of silence.
It wasn’t always like this, there was a time when I was younger when I didn’t speak, didn’t let my voice be heard or call out others. In my quiet, I felt that there was no reason to speak, people spoke for me, and that was good enough. That period of time continued until I was called to talk, to let my voice be heard, but all that came out were things I had learned because that’s all I felt people wanted.
So I talked and talked and all I would say were what I thought people wanted to get their way.  I didn’t feel like words were my own, they were just a ship to carry me closer to home. They were a way to keep me out of trouble or to deflect shame, if I kept speaking I wouldn’t feel the pain. All words were was a means to an end, but each time spoke the fewer ears people would lend.  I would answer questions, give my opinion, try to talk as much as I could but ultimate it didn’t fix anything under the hood. So they stopped calling on me, the teachers that be, because they felt it would be free, to stop speaking to me. So the silence grew deep, and my words became meek, I felt as though my voice itself was weak.
I couldn’t get out of this trouble, I wonder, it this trouble is the trouble to cause my heart to fall asunder. So I spoke and spoke, just as I speak and speak, to hopefully feel like my heart was not weak. I needed help with my words because regardless of what was said, there was never a feeling of feelings of being whole in my head.
So my words began pouring like a pitcher of water, learning how to speak so they would not be fodder.  So I learned the words that people would feel and repeated and repeated them just like a wheel. Every time I repeated, the words would change, until the words became words that would break from this cage.
The problem with the words that would say I said is that feels like a contract,  a contract with the dead.  I could speak and speak, and people would at times listen, but if there were not speaking, I wouldn’t feel the glisten. My heart would ache and ache in pain because without the glissen,  no frisson which means my vision would fission and leave a division. My mind was split, and these words would travel back until it felt like the words in my head were like an attack.
So I work on my words, day in and day out, to stop this addictive vindictive word spout.  I want to try and embrace the silence, let words be heard instead of defiance.  So I might speak now, and people might listen but to be honest, I would find something missing.  So here is where I digress, from the words, rhythm, and rhyme, because to be honest, I need to talk about real this time.

I realized at some point through all this writing, how beautiful words can be. When I craft a sentence, it feels like watching a tree.  It grows and changes as time passes. The winds move it and the season changes it, but they are there to remind me that giving it a little effort gives it all it needs to grow.  So I leave with this, another lesson another year’s folly, I want to become and change some more, because I have some more words to pour.  Thank you for listening to another year’s adventure, and here are some links of my past posts about words.

Year One : Year Two