Me And My Two Fins

Half of the year has gone by and once again I feel the need to log my thoughts in the public-private realms of the blogosphere (private as I am still uncertain if the volume of people actually reading my blog is enough to warrant its ‘public’ status; ie. it could only be me and my sister).

Again also, I feel inclined to recount every single thing that has happened to me these past 6 months, but I won’t, for a small part of me fears having to focus on those moments of heartache and sorrow that sit in the dark corners of my mind every day.

Suffice to say however, I owe it to my blog (which has often been the reliable, non-interfering, non-judgmental friend in my life) to somehow keep it up-to-date with my latest wanderings.

Well, faithful friend, I have finally entered the world of corporate full-time employment with all of its energy-sapping mundaneness and superficial characters- a far cry from my spirited, carefree, youthful life where I answered to no one and did as I pleased, escaping responsibility with a guitar on my back and time on my hands.

Melodrama aside, it would be wrong for me to disregard the structure that is now a part of my daily routine- that alone is teaching me to survive in the realities of this world. Though I am a small fish in a big pond all over again, I’m finding my fins and learning to trust them. If Nemo could do it with only one fully-functioning one, then I can certainly do it with two.

I suppose I was compelled to write this post by a range of things, old friends, new friends, old me and new me. Though it is not so much me that has changed, but rather my perspective.

My burning desire to make my dreams tangible is still there though it wavers, the path to do so is just gaining clarity. People around me (the good and the bad) still affect how I understand myself, I just know how to filter out the bad a bit better.

If there is only one thing so difficult in this life, it is loving and accepting yourself. For me, it proves to be an ongoing struggle and I’m afraid sometimes that it will never be. “Nobody’s perfect” so the cliche goes, so why do we long for it in others and ourselves?

So today, at age 24 and eight months exactly, I look toward the future with the sun in the sky and a glass of water half-full in my grip. And now, since I’ve run out of horrible metaphors, it’s only fitting I sign off for the day.

Advertisement