reflexiones

Why do I never learn, or never teach myself so much that it sticks, the importance of me returning to write in my journal? It's like I never quite get it. It's important. That I come here to write. Writing, above all else to me, is the art form that speaks to me in creation and production. It's not just that I have a natural want to write, it's that it is a need. Expressing myself verbally and through typing or handwriting out my words allows me to stay sane and to organize my thoughts and to feel connected to the world. Otherwise I wander around disconnected. So am I finally coming to a conclusion? I have to have a career that allows me to write? Or am I affirming that at the end of the day, not every day but regularly, I have to remind myself to sit down and dammit write. I can't tell you and I gave up awhile ago trying to analyze career science and figure out exactly what is perfect and all of the miniscule details. I don't know at what point I became a go-with-the-flow but now I am one.

Here I sit, drinking pinot grigio and reflecting on the world and nothing feels better. This entire week I spent reading. Even though I feel I could write a 100 to 200 page paper on the general topic, I have not put a single extra sentence in my rough draft or begun a new draft to turn in as my final. That's okay with me. Anyway, this entire week I spent reading, and now I write. Now it's my turn to speak. I wonder if I couldn't be a researcher because of my experience with this project: one of frustration, constant frustration haha. I didn't expect it. I've written long research papers before and never has it felt quite like this. Anyway, a lot of my semester has revolved around reading books or websites or documents specifically for this project, so it's kind of hard to avoid talking about it. If I could go back, knowing what information is out there, I'm not sure I would have chose this as the one topic I would focus on for my senior seminar. But gotta roll with it, ya know?

I find myself simultaneously becoming stronger in my articulation of my career and academic purposes because I am clearer and more focused, and also becoming more resistant to various paths because I realize I couldn't last in them. What I am left with is ironically an offshot of the dilemma that began freshman year when I couldn't decide for the life of me if I wanted to devote to the arts and humanities, or still with the harder and colder social sciences. To go off and be an artist, or to enroll in masters programs in the social sciences? This will be something I'll have to figure out, but I just don't care about worrying anymore. I just wanna be a hippie and follow my bliss.
Lorsh I never thought I'd say that.

I think it's reflective of a larger theme. Not trying to force on other people a certain perspective that grates on theirs. You gotta meet them where they're at. And then go forward. I guess there are times where you need to propel yourself, and your view, regardless of the consequences. But lately that need hasn't cropped up.

I got some Thanksgiving text messages that warmed my heart. I am truly blessed. There's a bright future in front. All I have to do is believe.