I’m an extremely introspective person by nature. I tend to think too much and when I think, I write. It’s the only way, really, that I can sort things out. It’s entirely likely that you’ll find the bulk of the articles in this category. Obviously, writing about myself is one of the easiest things I can do.
I try not to think about my age much. Whenever I stop and think about the fact that I’m only 19, well, I guess the only “emotion” I can attribute to it is disappointment. I don’t feel 19, I don’t know how old I feel. Part of the issue is that I’ve always felt at least somewhat older than both other people my age and the “adult” world’s perception of people my age. In my current condition (read: career job, going back to school knowing exactly what I want, being at peace with who I am, seeing marriage in my short-term future), I feel leagues older than what American culture seems to think a 19 year old should be. This cultural perception frustrates me.
Read more of this article.You may or may not have noticed, but each personal article I post uses a lyric from a song for the title. That song is usually what I’ve been listening to on a loop while writing the article. (You will find the song title and the artist listed in the tags.) Thus, every few months I am going to release a soundtrack and link to past soundtracks as well, in case you’re remotely interested in the aggregate. I don’t know and can’t guarantee that they’ll flow well, but I think it’s interesting none the less. They’re songs that I have identified with enough to inspire a post and that means something, doesn’t it?
Read more of this article.The beginning of spring and the end of summer in Washington always manage to remind me of my childhood in Florida. Something about the lighting, the pattern of sun and rain, some indescribable feeling of the months of May and August always seem to make me nostalgic for the backdrop of the first eight years of my life. Most of the time you’ll hear me say that the only thing I miss about Florida is the thunderstorms. But that’s not true. I miss the road trips. I miss the lazy heat-bathed days. I miss pre-hurricane season when I would prepare my closet to be a hurricane shelter and invariably make my mom mad months later when I had forgotten about it and cockroaches began to swarm.
Read more of this article.Read more of this article.When you know yourselves, then you will be known, and you will understand that you are children of the living Father. But if you do not know yourselves, then you live in poverty, and you are the poverty.
— The Gospel of Thomas, saying 3
I had an emotional breakdown tonight, which is highly ironic considering my last post. But, like all of my emotional breakdowns, it seemed to be pushed along by a little hormone called estrogen. And, also like all of my emotional breakdowns, a result of something rather important that I have chosen to ignore. Last time, it was how much more important Randy was to me than Russia, and this time it was just how much people stress me out and completely exhaust me.
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