The World Keeps Spinning

It's a funny world. 

When we're little we dream of being these hero-type characters, as if time somehow gave us wisdom and courage. We anxiously await to be older, to be bigger, taller to become these figures of our imagination. Who would have ever thought that the older we get the less courageous we become? The reality of life makes our dreams smaller and smaller pushing them farther and farther away from our grasp. We are never more courageous and capable of achieving our dreams than when we were kids- when everything seemed impossible and unstable was probably when these were at their height. 

A long time ago I started my writing journey. I remember at this point when writing and reading were my life. I dreamt of being a cool journalist. I watched Sex and the City, partly for the allurement of fashion and excitement of everyday life in New York City, but mostly for Carrie's ability to sit down at the laptop by her window, contemplating life and writing away. 

Life went on and writing became less and less frequent, I put down my handwritten manuscript of a novel, that to this day still sits untouched in my parent's basement. Instead, I focused on college entrance essays and put down the books in which I would get lost in for hours to pick up textbooks with guidelines, definitions, and limitations. A glimmer of my journalism dream still maintained afloat as I started college, but the more I pursued it the dimmer it got as I faced criticism from instructors, but really mostly from myself- until I was finally convinced that this life was not meant for me. Besides the scarce diary entry, my writing has been silent for about ten years, until today. 

As I face a point in my life where my dreams are at their farthest and darkest I mindlessly scroll through the internet, hoping to find anything to keep my brain occupied for at least a few moments. This time I mindlessly click through Google's colorful array of apps and features when I see a familiar orange icon.  I click on the Blogger app and my mind is transported to ten years ago, to my posts. The majority of these are silly entries by teenaged me. They make me laugh as I read through them, thinking how "cringe" these are to have out in the world.  I stop and stare at the quietness of my apartment, feeling lost in the world, and I realize that this is ME, a silly, cringy, and awkward girl that has tried in the midst of trying to "find myself" I was actually getting farther and farther from my answer. 

In the time since I published those posts, life has moved on and the world has kept on spinning- to that  I feel physically dizzy (which is probably more due to my inherited Vertigo). I've succeeded in getting into a great University, and succeeded at almost completely failing to graduate- but I did. I've switched careers more than I probably should have-and still trying to see what will stick. I've fallen in love, gotten married, and moved halfway across the country, which has been great except for the days that are absolutely not so great. 

And so, as I sit here typing away, absolutely tired of chasing to find myself-I have decided to just BE myself. 

I close with an excerpt from 18-year-old me written almost 11 years ago on January 29, 2012. 

How often do we stop and think, how important am I to the world? Compared to the economic crisis in the US, the drug lords in Mexico, and rebellions in Egypt, how significant is one? Perhaps we might mean nothing to anyone, or the world to everyone, but no matter, many people may not know my name, and frankly, they may not care, but just in case they may become curious, here I am.