​Title Change

You know, I have mentioned this many times before, but I started this blog as a way to practice writing and working towards being more open with my emotions.  So for a long time, my blog has been called “Lost In Translation” because, other than sounding like cool, it represented where I was with writing and expressing on the page. That whenever I spoke my mind or wrote my thoughts, something would be lost, misconstrued, or in some way, reduced. Expression in it of itself is easy, doing it well is another story.  So over the past several years, I spent time and effort attempting to bridge that gap between thoughts and words, my feelings, and my expression.  It has come to me that though that through all this writing, my purposes have changed slightly from just expressing and learning to express to cataloging my experiences and exploring what it to be human. It felt as if that name stopped really fitting well with the name I had initially picked and something new is arising. So, after almost 4 years of writing, I am changing the title of my blog from “Lost In Translation” to “Too Human” because at times that’s how I feel as if I delve too deep and feel this strain of what becomes of humanity if you put it down on a page.

I hope it doesn’t come off artificial or arrogant, it’s a name that comes from a feeling I get a lot. That if only I were a little less human, some of the problems I have would go away. That the fears, emotions, and inadequacies would be rectified if I could simply wrangle this beast called humanity inside my heart and do away with it when things become difficult. It’s a reflection I think that we all do and aspiration towards an unadulterated truth that I want to uphold. “Too Human” represents, at least to me, humility and understanding how far we go sometimes. Though that is not to say that it’s a defeatist attitude towards human nature, quite the opposite, most of these post are about overcoming obstacles and dealing with troubles.  Humanity can be both inspirational and disheartening, but what this blog will be is truthful, and I can be happy with that.

I hope this change will come with more insight and introspection. As always for anyone who takes time out of their day to read this, thank you for reading, I hope that the future brings good things.

On The Side: I’m an avid Dungeons, and Dragons player and one of the things that come up if you play is that if you were to create yourself as a character what would you be.  Now, of course, my aspiration, like most, would be something powerful, magical, mysterious, and deep.  For some, it’s fitting, as their personality meshes well with these other creatures and races. Each time I ask though “what would I be?” it always came back the same, “human.”  I think what upsets me about it was that no one really likes being called vanilla (even if it is a good flavor), we always like to think of ourselves as something special, something beyond ourselves.  Sure we might be successful at navigating the world we live in, but each of us always wishes, if not just a little, to be more than that. To be more than ‘just human. ‘

Now, as time has gone on, I’ve come to the like this designation (probably from overthinking and the cognitive dissonance that I had to rectify) to know that just because you’re human doesn’t make you not unique.  All we know is human, it might be the default, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Vanilla is still a flavor, it’s just one that has a lot of versatility. Sure at the start, it doesn’t sound too exciting, but you have to remember where it starts and where it ends can be two very different places. Humanity is the jack of all trades because it really just fit in and overcome just about anything. Though we may be human, we are human, and that in it of itself is something to remember. With history as our guide, and stories of great peoples in our hearts we always go farther than we might initially believe knowing that those who came before have some done so much and those who come after will do so much more. I am okay with being human, especially in this fantasy world, because it means at least at the end of the day I can really be whoever I want to be.

Stuck In A Daze Like Dream

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It’s when I push too hard that my body starts to deteriorate.  It takes what would normally be my fast-paced and busy lifestyle and grinds it to a halt.  It’s frustrating, but for current it’s a blessing.   It makes me take a second to reflect on all the trouble.

The is a lack of direction again, an unclear path unfolds before.  In this period of time, leading up the eventual application season again, I feel by far only prepared for the process, not prepared for where the process may lead. I search names, I search places but all that comes back is memories of years ago when the process brought me down and crushed me.  This trouble persists in part because of this inability to put a finger on exactly what I want to be doing for the next five years.  Sure, I want to spend it in a school, pursuing a degree in psychology and technology but that’s as far as that goes. This fuzzy outline with no tangible or actionable itinerary drives me mad in the middle of the night because it stirs confusion within me. If I can’t even put into words what I want to do, then how I am supposed to find someone who is doing it?

Second, as mentioned before in previous posts, I feel this futility in what I do.  My motivations, though initially pure are becoming clouded by a distinct lack of self-efficacy about the world I am about to enter.  Even with everything I am doing, I feel that it is all too little too late and that ultimately I will be passed up for someone much more capable than myself.  It’s hard because people believe in me but in my experience, this belief seems to not persist into action.  I want to make people proud but there is a fear that I will continue to come up short. I keep pushing, hoping that I will bring myself to the level  warranted by their belief, hoping to guide the way and show people that it was worth the effort, but I don’t know, I have to convince a room of strangers that I am worth investing in and the excuse of, well if you only got to know him really doesn’t cut it.

Lastly, I feel this pressure from above and below.  It’s more of jealousy that turned my eyes green.  I see people doing so many cool things and despise myself for not coming up with it first. I feel like I just a child in this great research game, playing with toys and trying to show others how cool the land of make-believe can be while others putting in the work and the time to really push the world forward.  Maybe I’m old enough to finally put away childish things, but it feels like I’ve clung to this conception of what I want that I don’t realize that no one really cares about it. Like I’ve been living in the sky but it’s the ones down on earth who are sending people to the moon.

I want to stop this.

I will stop this. Stop looking out in the world and seeing what I am missing within. No one is perfect and being like this has done more harm than good.  What I really need it eyes up. Looking forward to the future I want, instead of at the ground commenting on how close I am to always falling.  So if you’ve seen me recently fade in and out of dreaming it’s because of this, these feelings that attempting to bore holes in my heart. This process is revealing and the only thing I can say thank you for showing me my demons because now I can learn to make friends with them.

Animated Change

wallup.netPhoto From: 5 Centimeters per second.

It was the 1980’s, a time of great change in music, movies, and media. You see, up to that point, this small art style coming out of Japan was starting to make headway with western audiences.  An older generation appreciating the art from the 50’s and 60’s huddled together at small expos and cons to collect as much of this foreign delicacy as they could. What they didn’t know is that a few short years this would all change, and change quickly.

The first change came fast, a new popular show called Sailor moon came out with a roar, bringing young girls flocking for more from animators across the sea. It was such a hit that the transition period between the old and the new felt more like a crash than a movement. Gradually as the 90’s pressed on Americans were introduced to a variety of styles, artists, genres, and stories never seen on home TVs.  These pieces of Anime as is was called presented new ideas and spun the idea of exactly what show could be like. Shows that weren’t afraid to tell a story where the hero dies at the end, where the send-off is bittersweet, and you’re forced to think about yourself and the world around you a little bit differently. Masters of their craft illuminate the halls of an art form that continues to shift and changes with each passing year. New stories are being told, new artforms being discovered, and new people finding this glorious cacophony of beautiful minutes shared across millions around the world.

Why am I telling you all this?

I discovered Anime a little over 12 years ago.  One night, sitting quietly in a room watching a marathon of a show I have never seen before got me hooked.  A show about a soul reaper and a boy with the power to see the dead.  It was easy enough to pick up, even read, and that’s saying something from a boy who never read.  It consumed me and held me it’s magical embrace, so when the opportunity arose I went to my first convention and I hadn’t looked back since. It has a staple of my early July, more regular than my schooling and in some way connects me to the craft I grew to love.

This year demarks my tenth year of going to Anime Expo, and something is different this time.  Year after year, as I’ve gotten older a little less comes with me each time enter those grand halls.
Sometimes it’s friends, I’ve seen my fair share move forward and on from the con.
Sometimes it shows, I’ll feel a little more out of touch with what people are excited about.
Recently it’s been the focus,  what everyone seems to want and buy there doesn’t interest me as much anymore.  It could be from the familiarity from many years attending but it all feels repetitive, distant.

It’s a combination of all these things that makes going back a little bit harder each year. This by no means is it a bad convention. It’s a great convention, with some growing pains but people still get excited about all the new and wonderful things they are experiencing. It’s just me, I’m changing, and my relationship to the fandom is different now.  Like an old man coming back to a schoolyard years after he graduated, it’s more reminiscent of times past than times present.  Things have changed, people have changed, places have changed as they should. It has to adapt to the people it’s still serving, long after we make use of it.  But is it my time to graduate, to move forward onto something new? It’s this conflict that weighs heavy in my heart. When I leave, it may not be forever, but if I ever return it will be different, for different reasons and a different me.

This fight with my personal obsolescence hits me because this con is part of me, my childhood and adolescence.  Giving it up means part of me has changed, that young kid inside though always with me is pushing me forward beyond him.  He’s telling me to let go and find my next adventure.  Let go and choose a new path beyond, whatever it may be. Live life with these memories as wings on my back, not as a tether around my neck.

It’s hard to give up and put away these things.  Truthfully, I will always read manga, and watch anime as its part of who I am now. But I have to pursue my next adventure.

Thank you Anime Expo, for all that you are. You helped introduce me to the heroes who showed me how to give it all I got, no matter the odds.

 

It’s a Matter of Choice.

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To accompany this recent reflection on purpose I wanted to stray into the arena of choice because purpose and choice have a strange and strained relationship.

You see, purpose in some ways intends for there a set path before us, one that either is given or is created through hard work and dedication. This purpose, be it predestined or manifested creates a dilemma, if we have the path, how could we stray from it, the forks in the road only highlight the false potential of different choice made and different purpose held. If we have what appears to be this true purpose, the choice though apparent is no more than an exercise in false wills because we would never deviate from the path set out before us.

We like choice, or thinking about having choices. It is a luxury of growing up in our time period. Seemingly limitless sets of possibilities unfurl themselves before us, giving us options and opportunities we never knew we had in the hopes that each one will be taken, all roads followed and new roads paved.  Choice comes with a burden of unknowing.  If there is no destination in sight, our hearts hesitate for we do not want to make the wrong choice. To go down the path that leads us astray and lose our most precious resource, time, to the follies of circumstance or indecision.

It’s hard to balance these things, purpose, and choice because it is a matter of belief in how much autonomy we actually have.  It’s these two things that I fight over regularly.  There is a belief in me, coming from ancestors and culture that anyone can be anything, work towards the dream and accomplish what they put their mind to.  This is juxtaposed with the knowledge that people don’t necessarily do that, some people can’t be singers, artists, powerful businessmen. It’s as if our world has to be asymmetric. If there is a winner, there has to be a loser. If someone gets first place, most likely there a second or third. What happens to those people, it’s ridiculous to say that they simply wanted it less, that in their heart of hearts chose to not go to the top. What of choice then? Is it but a game where the rules are defined by the resources accrued and given from birth.  How far we can go, no more of an option of the great limitations erected by time and self-belief. Is this world just the chaos of people running through this maze hoping to find the center and be happy?

As for purpose, it holds that darker reality to be true.  That some people are meant to not succeed.  It elevates and exasperates, instead of being subjected to the will and desire of power or person whom may hold dominion over us.  It’s hard to stomach, that our lives may not have these paths to follow but are more akin to a track which shows us the world but never lets us deviate to explore it. This can be a freeing feeling though, that your life is always going to some other destination that you are always where you are meant to be.  It allows for us to feel and believe that the problems of today are only a part of the journey and the decisions that are made were suppose to be that way.  Though this disposition usually only works when times are well. The great problem of evil is that everything happens with a purpose and bad things happen to good people with no benefit, at which point should we follow this divine power who seems to act in ways we cannot understand to ends we cannot comprehend. What happens to those who are made to suffer their whole lives, never knowing truth or happiness? What happens when destiny forsakes us and dreams?

The reason that this is so problematic for me is that ideologies clash, but don’t always overlap.  We will always make choices regardless of what fate may have in store for us. As a psychologist, my whole ideology is that I can predict peoples live’s if only I had enough knowledge and data, but with that, it can change the path of those to come after into something better.

Can we really be all that we want to be? I have to believe that perhaps I do have more choice or greater purpose. That in the darkness, it is not the end but a chance to change. A freedom to start anew, be whom I envision for myself, and find my way back home.

King of the Mountain of Ash and Dust

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Recently I have been thinking about purpose. This strange almost unreconcilable thing that haunts us throughout our lives and yet it feels in some ways we have no ready control of it.  Philosophers of old have taken as many approaches to this purpose as there are trees in a forest. Each person will have this conflict in their lives, and yet what does it mean.

Purpose starts in belief, many religions and ideology will burden us with the purpose to lift our spirits and find a collective purpose beyond one’s self, perhaps into the eternal. Those don’t believe in a higher power thus must burden themselves with purpose, finding and crafting until the mind conforms to it and we feel complete. It’s hard through to reconcile purpose, because if we really were to know, would we spend our whole lives pursuing it to ensure we fulfill it or spend our lives avoiding it, hoping in some way to pursue something greater than what is hoped to achieve.

Then what happens to purpose when we die. What exactly do we leave behind us when we’re gone, a cloud of dust, an empty space, a memory.   What lives on it is not part of us but what others choose to carry on their own journey. Do we impart this purpose onto the next generation? Does this transference of ourselves carry forward infinitely? Is this what memory is, a collective of generations before, attempting to pass themselves forward in the future in neural electrostatic. I don’t think we can ever know, but we still try as hope that maybe we can live on through that forever.

But giving someone a memory is not like giving someone a fruit, it’s more akin to giving someone the idea of a what fruit is. This interpretation is colored only by the personal experience of the receiver, ever-changing as it passes from hand to hand.  Like a long game of telephone, how long will it be until we become distorted and become something we are not. We can’t take this with us, and we can’t pass it on where does this leave our purpose.

We all want to know so I think a great many us desire to leave a mark on this world, our own personal scratch that cries out, here I am, I existed, this is proof.  I think we all see ourselves as something greater, something unique, something in wanting. Maybe it is the human curse, of living long and knowing one’s self that our mind needs to reconcile our time and the inevitable void that comes hereafter. We are then all kings of mountains of things, memories and moments that collect and carry with us in our lives. Mountains that for once we are gone return to nothing but ash and dust blowing away bit by bit to become something new.

Word Bleed

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I talk. I talk too much. This habit of mine of continuing to fill the air with mindlessness is killing me. I don’t know how to stop, all I want to do is listen, but I can’t help myself, I just talk and talk.

It’s getting worse, and I don’t know why.  Maybe it’s lack of sleep or nerves.  This is becoming a bad habit, one I want to break before it even it even starts.  It doesn’t help that I regain this composure in the middle of conversations, too late, even as I try to backtrack the words keep coming, and I can’t stop them from spilling out

It’s not like word vomit, it’s not something I am shoving down within me coming back up, it feels like words bleeding past my lips. An open wound with no bandage spilling from within to without onto the world.  This blood of words revealing everything wrong and inadequate about myself, slowly exposing more with every drop. These words falling meaninglessly onto the floor along with my being, answering questions nobody asks and reporting things people don’t want to know.

I’m starting to feel like all the random facts I accumulated in my head is just a means to cope with this excessiveness.  To always have something to say in even the most obscure situations. But what does that say about me, that  I need to speak, am I afraid of the silence, or am worried at what the silence might reveal, that I am just a man with a dream that he doesn’t feel good enough for.

With each word, I lose a little of that calm demeanor, class, and poise. I shed off these preconceptions hoping that what is left is something worthwhile. Sometimes I just want to stay quiet, slink back and let the silence rest upon me for a while.  Maybe things would change then, maybe people will see something more without the discord. All I want is freedom from this feeling so I can be alright with who I am inside let my actions shine brighter.

How do I stop this bleeding? How do I stop these word’s from pouring out, how do I keep these words from spilling from my lips?

Why do I even speak in the first place?

The World In The Life Of A Guy – Part 12 – Putting Two Together

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Before I start, I wanted to say that this series has been a great way to reflect on the various ways men and women are different, as well as how those differences really impact how we go through the world.  After this post, I want to take a bit of time away from this series as a means to collect myself and to try new regularized topics to write about, I will come back intermittently to post about these topics, but after a year I am ready to try something new. Thank you for following along with this, I have enjoyed it.

As I started, so shall I end.  With sex and relationships.

I’ve spent a long time asking women my age about their relationship experiences, what it is like to be with a guy, and for what they tell me, I’m surprised a lot of them keep wanting to be in one. Stories I’ve heard, go into great detail about the enormous breaches of personal trust and faith in the partners they were with.  Stories of being forced or compelled to do things they didn’t want to do, harassed or abused, or even worse.  The stories were not all doom and gloom, but the sheer regularity of these negative experiences among people I have talked to is disheartening.  With each stories told to me the list of things that haunted me.  Haunt me, telling me of what I could be, but compelling me to go out to heal and not to hurt.  I don’t shy away from these stories, and I am supremely grateful for those who have shared their experiences with me, it keeps me aware of how bad it could be. In the end what bothers me how people can people can think so little of others, or feel entitled to something that should be shared. The bar for relationships a lot of women is a lot lower than it should be.  Women aren’t perfect, women are just people, and should at least be treated with the decency of an ordinary person, and sometimes they fight to get that much.

It makes me fear my own missteps, vivid things I may have done better. Progress is all about learning from my mistakes, to be better but with people and keep moving forward. Through it all, I’ve got scars on my heart from it, scars that seem to be growing and I don’t know what to do.

I think I’m afraid of sex, that powerful act that like a void, never seems to be satiated completely.  I think I always have been.  I can give you every excuse in the book for this fear, my religious upbringing, my less than stellar early life experiences with girls, or just the world of cold videos of porn on the internet but each of these would just seem to be a contributor or symptom of a much bigger issue.

Expression.

My experiences have taught me to that care is to give, and what else is there to give but myself.  I gave up pieces of myself to appease people early on.  Destroyed bits of my heart and soul to be okay with it.  I remember in high school, among the many strange things that happened to me was a girl. I had liked her at some point, and she had liked me, but the only thing was that our timing or wanting to be with each other ended up being off.  In liking me, she wanted express that in some way, so she ended up sending naked pictures of herself to me.  This is where curiosity kills, this might sound weird, but the curious part of me wanted to know more, but my heart and soul weren’t in it resisting me, telling me to stop this, that doing this was hurting me and wasn’t right.  She knew that I didn’t want a relationship because I told her that I wasn’t interested but she kept on with it (though I should have been more active to stop it). I didn’t though, not directly because I had always been told this was a good thing and that I should savor it and enjoy it even though it killed me inside. At the end of it all, in some strange way, it felt like someone was at least expressing that they wanted me to be that person in my life which felt good and started me down this road.

The experience sticks with me because it was the first of a lot of experiences that felt just not right for me. I may go into detail another time but for now, the point is I’ve had my fair share of good bad experiences, and it’s what I learned though that matters. In some way, I think most guys see similarly to me, that sex and sexual things are a form of intimacy and expression.  It is about power, desire, and in the best of times love.  The little voice in our head whispering that the only way to feel the connection is through that expression of two bodies of self. That the negation of advances recounts itself as a rejection of this expression and a rejection of expression means a rejection of self.
This type of thinking is ridiculous, but when feeling and desire is only expressed through such limited avenues, how else is that to come off.

This is why I am so afraid of sex because to me, its a giving of myself, leaving myself open and yet it can so quickly be given and taken from you. It can become from meaningful to meaningless swiftly and easily. Why would I want to do that to myself, to satiate if not only temporarily the urges that my body afflicts upon me? Used as a mechanism to fill the void of lonely disregard of heart, a cry for help and a stopgap for meaning.  Each time disregarded, carves away at our heart so that less and less of it comes back to us.  I want something more because I know more is out there.  I want to be open to the love of a different kind and nature. Expression of which can comes in different types and forms still foreign and mysterious to me. I don’t want it to be only about sex, there should always be more to it.

We keep coming back to relationships though, after each of our experiences to try again.  I don’t know why, I don’t understand it and I know I won’t go for a while but we keep trying out there, hoping and working for change.  The world of girls and guys is different in a lot of ways but this one is the same, we want a better future and we are, if not slowly, moving towards it together. I hope it will be one we can be proud of.

The World In The Life Of A Guy – Part 10 – Honor and Pride

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I don’t know when it starts, this idea of honor and pride, it may have started as a seed sown when we are young, or the side effect of hormones that change our bodies. Either way, there is a force that comes to us, that drives us to do crazy things in the name of an invisible force that binds us to a sense of self.
Honor and pride, it allows us to stay consistent in a world that pushes us to care less and prevents us from giving in to the passing beliefs, alternatively, it makes us rigid and at times makes us incompatible with one another.
Pride is a force that governs our image and view of ourselves and how we decide to maneuver through the world.  I am not saying that it is only a male thing, many women have pride of their own.  It is though, so ingrained in how guys are raised, that image of pride and yourself matters and any attempt to belittle or harm pride become a direct attack on the person.  It is in feelings of pride weakness and insecurity that we put up barriers for ourselves lock out the potential of growth and change. Instead, it acts like a cornered mouse, lashing out at anything that opposes it. Pride is good, too much of it is terrible. The way I see it is if pride gets in the way of you living your life, then what is the point of that pride, it delivers nothing with the promise of nothing but a story and a good feeling that resolves to nothing.  For me, this sense of pride should be abandoned if it sets out to hurt others or ourselves because pride should be a way for us to stand up straight in the face of adversity, not to become living statues of a time long past.
Honor is a harder thing to dissect.  Honor is thought to be a warrior’s trait.  Everyone can have honor, but for girls and guys these pieces of honor stem from different places.  Honor for us comes from the adherence to rules and do right. Honor is built and maintained, though at times can be associated with the rigidity of bureaucracy a slowness of the old way.  No one gets mad at honor for honor’s sake, they get angry at the close adherence to these rules that make men do outrageous things.  Honor’s purpose is not to be followed but to guide. Not to merely act but to reflect on the world at large and ask what it is and why something should be.  Honor should be adhered to only when you know its purpose and is used to protect and not to harm.
Honor and pride, though sometimes unspoken and not formally taught, we find ourselves here through watching and learning from those who came before.  They are interesting because they tie to who we are and what it means to be us. Honor and pride are at the core of who we are and make us do the things we do.

Running With Strings

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“Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”
– Søren Kierkegaard

When I was young, I used to watch my Dad run in the evenings around the track of the local high school. Others were always there, all with the same goal but never having to speak to one another.  Under the harsh stadium lights, that cast dark shadows onto the field were runners in the night. Under the darkened sky there was one such runner I can even now see so vividly.  Tied to his back, strings. Strings that attached to a parachute that would drag behind him and open up whenever he would pick up speed.  I couldn’t understand why someone would do such a thing,  running was hard enough, and this guy was making it harder on himself.  So in the long shadows of the night, I watched the man struggle perplexed.

As of now, I find myself in a strange place because like the runner with the chute, its as if I am holding myself back because of the past.  I look back on these memories and moments of mine and realize that I am tied up with strings that make me unable to move where I would like.  It’s the past I resist against that makes my present that much harder. The memories I have to dictate the path I take because of the fears and experiences I have been through. I look to fight back against it, but I feel slowed and tired from the weight.

I remember the runner again, I remember what he did after running against the parachute. After he removed the strings, I did finally understand. The chute made him stronger, and faster but its only works after he took it off.  He sprinted against the resistance, so when he let go of it, he was even faster than before. The weight had to be lifted off of him for progress to actually be shown. He needed to remove the strings to truly show how fast he can be.

I feel that way at the moment, at another crossroad where the strings of my past are starting to become a detriment in my everyday.  I need to work through my life and letting go of all the weights I’ve been using to move forward.  The resistance that I’ve been training up until this point have been great motivators that I can never forget but have to move on from. I can’t hold onto the past because it will slow down my progress for the future. I have to take off the strings if I ever really want to know how strong I really can be.

 

A Showdown and a Smile

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With new challenges come new obstacles and difficulties.  I find myself wanting to sleek back into the habit I had before of avoiding the problem hiding away until someone or something else takes care of it. It’s a habit I formed long ago to deal with all the fear and disappointment I felt from my lack of power in the world.  I secluded myself to reading stories about people who did more, tried more, and were more than I felt I could ever be.  I had dreams but now a plan to accomplish them. Each moment I spent with these heroes, I felt as if they were giving me something to carry within myself, a sense of spirit and power.

There is one thing that I feel is almost universal about them is that against extreme odds they do not let the despair of failure cloud their actions.  They press on against this seemingly unrelenting force to create change in the world.  Though not all of them may be the most reliable form the onset, they do what needs to be done because it needs to be done.  They find their purpose and pursue it, and it might be the naivety of my feeling about stories, but if that isn’t one of the more beautiful things life, I don’t really know what is.

What I feel might be one of the more cliche acts that I hold dear to my heart is when a new and unexpected challenge arises, a smile breaks loose from the heroes.  A smile that speaks volumes about how even though the world seems to be crashing down on them, and fate calling for the end, they embrace the chaos of the situation and for a moment are willing to collect the charges of taking on the entire world.

I know in a way its a bit of a silly trope, but a smile breaks down a situation and finds humor in the ridiculousness that our world offers us.  It moves us from being crushed by the weight of the world to feeling free of its burdens.  It gives life to those who feel like theirs is ending. A smile and a laugh are amazingly powerful things.

I am trying to emanate those heroes that are engrained in my heart.  Becoming strong in my own way and fighting my own battles, each successive victory giving me the knowledge that I can go a bit further than I was before.  I hope that when the cards are down, when the world seems to be crashing down around me, that instead of hiding away and hoping it all passes over, that I smile and accept the challenge the world has offered, fighting tooth and nail for victory. This knowing that only way out is forward and all of us are stronger than we believe.