“Learn to light a candle in the darkest moments of someone’s life. Be the light that helps others see; it is what gives life its deepest significance.” – Roy T. Bennet

Archive for the ‘Wondering’ Category

First Impression

I have always been curious as to how people view me, especially upon first impression. Depending on what sort of social situation I am in, I will put out a certain front. If I know most of the group I try to act as I normally am. I will crack jokes, maybe have a few conversations, and then I recluse after I’ve had enough. 

As an introvert, I realize I am most at ease when I am alone. After a while, however, I start to crave human company. I need a conversation, an exchange, something to remind myself that I am not a complete recluse. I sit in coffee shops or browse bookstores for the sake of interaction. I don’t need to have a full-blown conversation, normally. I simply need other humans in my vicinity to acknowledge.

So how do people see me, then? Am I a wallflower? A flash of colour passing by? Am I mysterious or intriguing or do I even stand out in any way? Would I be considered awkward or strange? I can be open and talkative one second and then closed up the next. Does that make me confusing or sullen? Seemingly mature or the exact opposite? Do I look world-weary or naive?

What do people see when they see me?

Language

I can’t help but be drawn to languages. Communication and the fine use of words are beautiful things. It bothers me when people do not care about the language they are speaking. A lot of people only speak half a language; they speak a watered-down version of English, full of crass and mispronounced verbalizations. I understand that upbringing plays a large part in this, but then there is also the world of the Internet in which many people get lazy. From laziness comes a lack of care which becomes a bounty of grammatical errors. I am not perfect in this as I also grow lazy with my words.

My mom read to me and my five brothers when we were younger. She has always had a compelling storyteller voice, and even as we grew older, we would still listen in as she read to the younger kids. This brought a love of books to our family. We would collect series and try to read books before anyone else got to them. Our favourite series was the Redwall series, written by a man named Brian Jacques. We would take his fantastical stories to the backyard and pretend to be talking mice and otters and foxes. Even as an adult I am sure I would still play those games if it were societally acceptable.

I was lucky to have the childhood I did. I can speak and write and I hold a desire to learn inside of me. There are those, however, that never were given the chance. Kids drop out of school, dread homework, can’t even add sums or multiply simple numbers. It’s a hard world for learning, but I must reiterate: the language you speak is important. It is the difference between a high-paying career and minimum wage. It is the difference between forgiveness for a ticket and an instant fine. This is a prejudice but oftentimes a truth. We can use language to our advantage. After all, it is what convinces a nation to vote for a president, to believe what they read, and to take a single comment as complete truth. The moment someone types your instead of you’re, their opinion is instantly disregarded. It matters.

While I intend to complete my knowledge of the Spanish language, I am still learning the English language. There are words that I have never heard or have never dared to utter for fear of mispronunciation. English is complex and brimming with rules and exceptions to these rules. I occasionally bend these rules for the sake of rebellion and/or poeticism. All in all, maybe I simply wish for everyone to have the same draw toward their own language. Perhaps then our communication wouldn’t be so lacking.

 

Scoliosis


This isn’t normally something I like to show other people. I’ve tried to train myself into accepting every part of me, but when it comes to my back I like to ignore it. I don’t like seeing my awkward bend and I hate the feeling of tight shirts on my protruding rib cage. When I sit in the company of others I sit as tall as possible. When my husband captures pictures of my back, I normally delete them. 

The above photo makes me cringe, makes me sit up straight. I don’t like seeing my flaws so front and center. Once when I was stretching, my brother went, “Uggh! Your back!” That hurt more than it should have, because it is part of me, and not something I can ever change without surgery.

A few facts about scoliosis:

-Scoliosis is about 10 times more likely to occur in women than it is in men. 

-Usain Bolt – you know, fastest sprinter on the planet – has scoliosis. I’m curious what sort of stretches he does for the pain.

-Hitler viewed scoliosis as a disability and ran his freaky experiments on people with scoliosis, which absolutely terrible and terrifying.

Back to what I was saying. I hope that someday I’ll see this as just something that makes me stronger. It’s painful, especially when carrying a baby around and trying to sleep comfortably, but as long as I exercise and don’t sit too long, I can function just fine with it.

If you have any sort of insecurity about your body, I encourage you to talk about it and try to accept it as part of you. We’re all flawed humans and sometimes our flaws really do make us stronger or more interesting or simply just…us. We are as different as leaves on trees or blades of grass. We are tall, short, round, straight, curved, uneven, and everything else in between, and there is no problem with any of that.

Some of the Best Things in Life

Have you ever been out on an arid day, working hard or walking too far and then, suddenly, it hits you. The thirst. So unquenchable you are near gasping for breath; the rattle in your chest reaching audibility. It sends dense. thick heaviness through your muscles and bones and you feel incredibly weak to the point of falling until…

…you drink a glass of cold, refreshing water.

Some of the best things in life are so trivial, and yet so important. And, yes, it is stifling out today.

 

To Think

Being young and having a baby puts me in an awkward place with my peers. Most women my age are only just getting engaged, or otherwise they are in school and working five days a week. This places me at the edge of circles, not yet old enough to be considered in the mom groups and in such a different place in life that I feel strangely mature in my usual group of friends.
I know I’m not the only mom to feel this way. My life doesn’t revolve fully around my child and husband. I don’t have dinner on the table every night. I just want to go on long runs in the forest and come home to a smiling baby, but that’s an impossible daydream.
I do like to work. I enjoy the feeling of earning my money and paying bills. I enjoy helping others.
Maybe what I’m trying to say is that I feel too young, too old, too busy, too lazy, and nowhere near where I wish I were in life.
I’ve always dreamt of traveling the world and learning new languages, of meeting new people and living in both poverty and riches in order to fully understand the world. I wanted to be a police officer, unbiased toward even the most distinctly different person. I wanted to be a writer, able to carry emotions in my words and change people though them. I wanted to be a wanderer, untethered by family or feelings and able to explore the entire expanse of the earth by wit alone.
But I found myself married at twenty years old and it’s possible that none of those dreams will ever come into fruition. And perhaps that is all they ever were: dreams. They were ideas that I latched onto and ruminated over so often that I found no fault in them.
Now I do find fault in them. They are missing my husband and my son and my family and friends and perhaps I feel for them more than I let on. I can be stoic and tired and hard and untouchable but I don’t think I can live without the people that surround me.
I sympathize for moody teenagers because I was one, but I also understand the need for stability and nine to fives and those days that drag on because they mean you love and are loved. I love and am loved, and I could continue to pine away for my unfulfilled dreams but sometimes things come into your life that you never expect and you never knew you needed.
I never meant for this to become what it is, but I guess I needed to write some things out for them to make sense in my head. Thank you for listening.

Masks

the heaviness of silver and gold on your face and

robbing you of joy and for all of your pain it

will not go away and for all of your strength it

will not melt away

the way i see it you are on your own the

many years of anguish have taken their toll and

the mask that you wear is a part of who you’ve become and

part of you just won’t let it go

when you strain against it forever hold fast for

your skin and your bones have entwined with the mask and

to lose it would mean losing part of your flesh but

part of your flesh must go

you pull and you worry til the whites of your eyes are

all i can see and then nothing at all while

metal and blood are flecks on your palm and

metal and blood are read on your palm

and you strain against it but it forever hold fast for

your skin and your bones have entwined with the mask and

to lose it would mean losing part of your flesh but

part of your flesh must go and you

strain against it but not even half will

become unattached from the expression you have and

everything else has been freed but your soul it

forever remains below it

forever remains below

Dreams – A Poem

There was a time when all I heard

Were my own thoughts and

I’d spin around without a clue

Of where I’d go

Even the streets with all the lights

They never blinded

I was lost inside my soul

And so it came

The age of fear and many problems

I never thought I’d be in need of hope

But now I stand a little shocked

At my surroundings

The differences of my abode

I  wander the towns in search of what

My heart’s desiring

Whatever need that strives to waken my demise

I said sorry to the dreamer and magician

That carries far the weightless lies

Many memories, pens, pencils on a paper

All that sighed and left from me

To become  known

Because what is life when everyone is sleeping?

On this I ponder

Walking home

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