This is Too Funny

Nine years later, and I write here again. I am doing it mainly for the hilarity of the situation. It is pretty funny. Nine years ago I was 21. Not much different than 30, or 31 shall we say. But here I am, so different, or so I flatter myself to think. It's pretty funny. I read what this person, this person being me, has written, and I think, wow, you are aspiring to great wisdom, friend. Yet, that person is me. I should know her better than anyone else, and yet, she is an ocean of memories apart from me. Maybe, nothing much has changed at all and I am still that daft young girl with big dreams, and imagination. Some things have changed. Heartbreaks, pain, joy, boundless love, new relationships. But I'm still me, and yet not. This is called navel gazing. Once can get so lost in it. It's just an emotional moment. Journalism school helped me step out of my mind and write realistically, catering to an audience. I cannot have chosen a better program to push me out of my comfort zone.

New York; a dream come to fruition.

Tonight I leave for New York City, my first time ever and I am in disbelief. It seems for so long that it was just a dream, never to be reached until I was ripe in my character. Yet here it presents itself, and I am grateful. I often felt myself to be like the Egyptian man in 'The Alchemist', whose dream it was to visit Mecca but continually he held off of this journey for as he said, once there he would have nothing left to dream. New York is more than a place I choose to visit, but an outlet for me to express myself in this city where the pinnacle of human potential is made evident, and it pushes me to put forth only my best.

Eat, Pray Love has been one such staple pushing me in pursuit of this dream, as I read this novel one page stood out in particular. I was inspired to learn of L.A., whose inhabitants migrate to its promising lands in search of success, and unlike it New York values accomplishments. Hard work and progress are considered in higher regard than simply a dream not yet acted upon. L.A. is where the rich and beautiful come to float atop this land that defies gravity, and they drift in their dreams. New York however, is firmly grounded in the reality of everyday, and dreams are goals in need of action.

Ummy

In a home of polarized figures, I saw my mom as an angel in need of my protection. I truly, with all my heart, believed she was perfect. Despite how false that statement may be, in that faith I found refuge. Does that not make it true, to some degree, if it was so able to save my life? I became as a zombie, leading a life impervious to the whims and affections of others, but her presence granted me grace.

She inspired me to find light in the darkest corners, and to believe in an ever- flawed humanity.

Wishing to Forget.

It has been a while since I have written, it all seems a little pointless since only my self-gratification offers purpose to this desolate blog; magnificent desolation!

I know that travel is a desire I have had for a while, yet never cared to acknowledge.I fear that I will fail because of all these little things in my life that crop up, latch themselves to me and refuse to let go.

Deep-seeded resentment migrates through my body, a haunted history recycling its delusions in my mind. Forgive, forgive, I am so sick of people telling me to forgive. I hurt, and unlike a physical injury it's not a matter of depending on your white blood cells to charge forth like warriors at your defence. No, this is a process of paying attention to everything I so dearly wish to forget! I am capable of hate too deep.

I wish to forget.

What greater gift is humanity endowed with than the ability to create, that which ties us closest with the essence of the divine. God, universe, call it as you may and ignore it as you like, but created is what we were and in the image of God we too have been blessed with a gift to create, to take from the unknown and make into known.
Whether to create art through paper and pencil, stories in the form of written or oral, danced or learned; our greatest purpose is derived from the dark well in our soul that overflows with potential. Potential not yet labeled, not yet massaged with our hands to fit its destiny, simply pure potential waiting to be cupped in our palms and shaped from our talent to colour and give purpose to our life and the lives of those around us.

This Body Betrays me

Why do my days and nights of late consist of misanthropy? Be weary enduring humanity, I long to eat such foods contrived from the greedy hand of human genius; candy, chips, cheese and oh the list sinks to the vain depths of my hungry stomach. I am faint with hunger, my body betrays me with its ailments. Never will it side with its inhabitant to conquer this lowly thing called hunger. I continue upon my struggle to be as fit and thin as those pretty girls around me, but alas I fail. Still, I do not reach that line of beauty. Now, as I sit before this computer my sweat runs cold and I feel dizzy with lack of food. But I shall persist, until my body is weak but thin. As this body betrayed me so too shall I betray the body that has so done me wrong! Suffer body, for as you have caused me this pain, I shall overcome weaknesses of the flesh and suffer you shall for the rest of your putrid life.

Waking

I awoke drowsy and groggy from a disastrous blanket upheaval. The sun shone bright through my cluttered window, the buzzing of my phone rang incessantly in my ear. My thoughts were not given the time to float in a sea of distorted memories wrapped and played as a nightly reverie. I reached over, fingers reluctant but brain adamant to feel that death- cold touch of lifeless plastic. My hands closed in on the target, a phone ensnared in the grip of a half conscious girl. Flip. New message. It’s time to wake, to breathe new air and step out from my dusted corner of the world.