I cried for the first time in forever.
It was kinda fire.
I don’t exactly know what type of person would describe crying as AWESOME, but dang do you feel better after it.
For context, my application for stanny is due in a week.
TO REPEAT, STANNY IS DUE IN A WEEK.
WHAT THE HECK.
I mean I’ve spent years in high school now… it’s all slowly coming to a close.
Since it is due in a week, you can imagine how I felt when I got critical feedback on my work THE WEEK BEFORE.
Yeah, kinda freaky.
You know how I write a blog right.
Hint, you’re reading it right now.
A lot of my essays, okay most of them, are written like this blog.
You may be freaked out; I was not freaked out.
It came to my attention that I was prioritizing form over function; my quirks were leaving things too high-level; there wasn’t enough to learn about me save my incredible writing ability ;).
I also used that winky face way too much.
I knew I’d get called on it eventually. It was something I realized happened as I wrote my essays: it was almost like I had too much fun.
And that wasn’t a problem; it just wasn’t necessarily what a 25 year old human would appreciate seeing every single one of my essays be made of. They won’t have me to narrate its kinks, so it’s gotta be clear.
So I worked to formalize.
This was the craziest part about writing this stuff: BALANCE IS NOT EASY.
I’m kinda vague; I rely a lot on the reader; I really enjoy texture; weird things like adding three semi-colons in a sentence excite me.
Writing is something one really can get attached to.
Considering I cried for the first time in years because of nine essays, you can probably tell I was and am still very attached to it.
Ego broken and podcast made aside, I’m glad I cried.
I’m glad I had to fix my work.
Make it functional, not just un-formulaic.
It brought out more than just the perceived me.
It brought out the actual me.
I cried away my creative fluff.
I left the beautiful ones, but rebuilt the workable.
I had a whole lot of fun.
I did new things.
I learnt new things.
And most importantly, my friend, I felt new things.
The famous philosopher Arivum Guptumum once said…
Me’s happy when me’s happy.
He wasn’t wrong.
This week was another reminder of the volatility of the mind and it’s unparalleled ability to shape-shift and shift-shape.
It’s a constant effort.
When you find a mental footing, there’s always something new that threatens your stability.
If the ceiling has been met, it rises.
If the floor has been found, it surprises.
Us with more to do.
There’s always something to do.
To do, to do, to do.
The mind is never at rest.
It’ll never be at its best.
Or will it?
Will it?
Who knows.
Go go go.
Try this, try that.
At least we’re not a doormat.