An Intrinsic Fatigue

It's been a while since I've blogged here. Suffice it to say that I forgot about a personal blog! I focused my attention elsewhere. I've included art pieces in here that I did that express my feelings. To see more of my work, check out my art page or find me on Instagram: @vaniisaedraws

Anyway as I was saying, I had forgotten about a personal blog. But I suddenly came across my lonely Vintage for the New Age page and realized something. I had left my true inspirations behind in 2018. Something clearly had shifted in 2019. But why? I took some to really reflect on what the cause could have been and came to the conclusion that it was the result of a combination of things. I think a part of it had to do with the fact that the place where I used to work shut down after July 2018. Of course, we were worried it was coming and perhaps had even braced ourselves for it. Yet, it proved to be one of the worst and most painful things to happen personally.

I loved teaching at this school. My students were like the go-getters of Class 1A in My Hero Academia. I got to go full-on geek with game design and graphic arts hopefuls. While the courses I taught were in the general education section, I nevertheless got to teach some of the most fun classes like Sci-Fi Lit, Thriller and Horror Lit, Creative Writing, The Humanities, and Comparative Lit (which I developed from scratch). I didn't get to teach Comics as Lit because I left to teach elsewhere before returning back--and alas I didn't get to teach it because it wasn't offered at the time. I'm hoping someday I can revive this class and teach it again. But all of this is to say that 2018 was a year of recovery for me. I started drawing again (after an impossibly lengthy hiatus) and was really proud of the progress I was making. I was immersed in my world of fandoms, writing, teaching, and doing art. Then...when the school shut down, I was unemployed and back to square one.

I remember that I'd experienced genuine happiness since the start of my recovery. I'd been able to enjoy going to an anime convention, doing art, teaching a class I loved, and working on personal projects. Once the school closed, I started to look for more work. I thought I could work a government job, but I soon found out how inadequately prepared I was on a mental scale. My recovery was still a work-in-progress and the challenges of that job ultimately fizzled out and led me to get an ESL certification. I started working as an ESL teacher soon after, but then we got hit with the pandemic and all of us were laid off. I wondered if I was simply doomed to be the adjunct faculty wonder, never fully realizing her potential. But of course, there were pluses. I was voice acting and creating art, stickers, stories, and more. However, I noticed I couldn't reproduce the same euphoria I felt in March-July of 2018. 

Let me just say though: I promise this post isn't a downer. I'm just sharing a little bit of what went on so far. Think of it as those moments in Supernatural "The Road So Far". When Covid hit in March 2020, the pandemic certainly scared me. When we first went into quarantine, we were all vigilant, stayed indoors, and waited for news. For a hermit like me, it was initially great to be home. But very soon, a cognitive dissonance rose up--Groundhog Day. I was stuck. Again. And the news was more alarmist than it had been in years. More violence. More fear. So, what were we to do?

I spent time reassessing my efforts. I realized that the kind of teacher I wanted to be was waiting for the right kind of class to teach again. So, I created a new site, a new endeavor, and started to slowly rebuild in 2021. I also have a spiritual blog! Now that were at 2022, we are still facing the pandemic, and an intrinsic fatigue has been embedded into our bones. Now more than ever, we need kindness and compassion for ourselves and for others around us. I've been crabby and angry with the state of the world, angry that humanity hasn't achieved the potential it's capable of, and angry that I have yet to contribute in a way I feel is useful. But then again, what are we but constantly striving to make things better? The news and media may present the darker side of humanity more often, but I look to sites that offer good news to renew my hopes and faith in our species--because it is out there. We just have to know where to look. 

And since I haven't said it yet, Happy New Year readers. May this year bring brighter tidings than the previous. 

Age is not just a number

There's something that's been on my mind lately. It gave me pause one day when I looked on a social media page to find everything geared towards ages 18-25--artwork, photography, music, and literature (and they were especially lauded if done by individuals within that age group or under). It dawned on me that while this is a familiar pattern...it feels more prevalent now. What I have noticed is it seems like the obsession to stay relevant or youthful is a constant that grew exponentially. Let's face it. There's a barrage of streaming media and advertisements in virtually every industry strictly aimed at the youth. Age is a "nothing but a number" or so the saying goes. It may be difficult to see it that way when there is a always a need to stay young or get rid of anything that may give away a person's age. Even I admit to doing that. Are we really that afraid to grow older? I often wonder if we are all in secret competition to have accomplishments finished by age-imposed deadlines, yet we labor under the pretense that that isn't the reason.

We may be "racing" to get things done because of these illusory deadlines. The age decade of the thirties is where all changes become noticeable. It's as if efforts and accomplishments in this category are somehow less impressive than that of someone younger, say the teens and twenties. But it takes equal effort and talent for great achievements no matter what, unless someone is truly a prodigy. Even then, prodigies work for it too. Age should be nothing but a number. But it doesn't seem to be, does it? New music, new artists, new tech, new this...NEW itself--implies young. New talents may be discovered later in life--and for those who care about the talents regardless of recognition, that's great. But it is hard to stay invisible too or be sidelined for someone younger. And sometimes in order to keep up, we try desperately to cling to our youth. While it can be gratifying for some, it starts to get...dare I say it...old and difficult. I find myself increasingly less invested in what I once enjoyed. I seem to be in the minority in this regard compared to some of my peers. Maybe I am changing again. As a result, I tend to be more isolated. But that isolation is reflective and passionate--the focus on my rediscovered and newly discovered interests and talents are mine alone to give my undivided attention. And that time is precious.

Being a child born in the 80s, it often feels like my world has slipped away from consciousness. I'm sure a lot of people experience this as things inevitably change around us. But we are also bombarded by media and subliminal messages on a day-to-day basis, and never more so since the advent of social media. Don't get me wrong. I'm not going to sit here and tell anyone that social media is bad. I use social media myself and appreciate what it offers for networking and creative endeavor purposes. However, I also feel it can be extremely disheartening. It sometimes gives us a false sense of expectations. It continues to heavily reward and applaud the young. And of course, we absolutely should--but it feels like there is a higher percentage of it compared to those older. Moreover, the youth are already being inundated with messages to help them stay young--as if they have a choice in biologically aging! Why does age play such a critical role in our lives? And as we get older, why does it feel like we are hearing those messages repeated as doomsday announcements as if we've lost something as age claims us?

Why can't we be fruitful and relevant as a member of society in terms of who we are versus how much we've managed to accomplish at a younger age? Not all of us were afforded opportunities. Not all of us were well growing up, mentally or physically. Everyone is different. Why can't we accept that? It seems like we can only celebrate individualism as long as no one is too unique. If you're too unique, two things can happen. You get ostracized or martyred. I realize I'm generalizing and simplifying this at the risk of sounding cynical by saying that. But I'm not cynical. It's just been my experience. So I speak from that perspective. I hope that isn't the case for anyone else. And believe it or not, I remain an optimist. I think it's nice to be a part of society with like-minded individuals who share my values and interests, but it's not been my experience to be a part of groups successfully. I often stood out like a sore thumb. But I digress. My point is that while aging can be a challenging process, (and of course we all want to stay young!) I believe we should celebrate ourselves even more, the older we get! Because this is the truth. We cannot hold on to the past any more than we can predict the future. We agonize over the future--we plan for it, but if we are always planning, we are not present. And time passes us by in a flash when we do that.

Age is not just a number. No, it's more than a number. Age is a part of life. It's a number--it's a level, and yes, it can even be our very own super power! Wisdom does not have a shelf life or age or time limit. And I certainly hope that I will continue to wise up in life. While I may pull away for reflection, I don't hide in isolation. I simply take time off for myself. I think we all need 'me' time. We all need to appreciate ourselves, love ourselves, and be focused on the here and now. Age is not just a number. It's so much more than that. And things are always changing. Such is life.

Words have power

This is a reflective, observational post with a few words of advice (it's more for me) but fair warning: it's a long post! Still interested? Read on, brave soul!

Have you ever read something that you could not get out of your head? The words fly off the pages as though alive. The imagery is so vivid that you can even smell or taste items described. The aesthetics of language in a story matter greatly. If a story is good and has value, it may not always require fancy words or flowery sentences. Sometimes, there is an elegance in simplicity. However, when stories have merit and are told well in addition to varied choices in vocabulary, it is akin to making music out of the nouns, adjectives, and verbs. It is poetic and pleasing to the eyes to read them or for the ears to hear them. Other times, sentences feel like a cacophony of words that serve no other purpose than to evoke chaos in a reader or listener. Words have meaning, power, agency, and so much more. As storytellers, we have a responsibility to ourselves as well as our listeners and readers to engage them with our characters and worlds--to make them feel--to evoke and provoke, even. We know what we want them to feel or get out of our stories, but what they may actually feel is quite different. The same goes for our own real life stories, maybe even more so.

It's so easy for us to get caught up in the way that someone talks to us. They can ruin our day completely or make it the highlight of the week. Words have power. When someone puts thoughts on paper, it stays. When someone writes a letter, that person can never truly take those words back. In a way, the same goes for speaking to another person but putting them on written pages or on the internet especially, can be really damaging if the content is a problem. Then, there are those times when words escape us. I felt like that for many years or that I'd had all the wrong words for what I wanted to say. I felt sorely misunderstood, so I had to figure out a way to attach the right meaning to the words or to find words that are correct, definition-wise for me to express the thoughts that were floating around in my head. I was never good at accurately describing what I was really thinking or feeling. I could write about it using metaphors and analogies sometimes, but I failed at being able to show or demonstrate what was going on or perhaps I worried how I would be seen as a result. I was not understood because I came across a certain way whether that was the intent or not. I have learned over the years that words are far more important than anything. I knew all this before but it finally sunk in. It's even more vital that we pay attention to our thoughts. 

I've been thinking about this for a while now. I feel it is extremely important to examine what it means to tell a story, true or fictitious. It's important when we think of communication. Let me take you back to my childhood. For those of us who grew up as 80's and 90's children, our technology and digital usage was limited. You know what I mean. Who all remember the joys of having a dial-up connection? Remember when your mom or dad or brother or sister picked up the phone right as you were chatting up your best friend on AIM? And just like that, the connection got lost. It's so surreal to me that we communicated in different ways not that long ago. But now, gone are the days of the fax machine-like noise that took forever to get you online! Today, we can do that from our mobile phones. We can be storytellers much faster online. But when we used to play outside more as kids, we still found ways. We entered worlds through some of the stories or make-believe games we created. We passed handwritten notes to each other in class or left them in our friends' lockers for them to discover. We wrote stories like that. And some of us even had pen pals. A lot of us kept diaries to spill deep secrets. And sometimes, the diary was like a non-judgmental friend that you could unload to without fear of abandonment. We used words--written and spoken. These words all have power. 

There is something cathartic about writing in our diaries, blogs, or online journals, etc. The difference is the audience now. When Livejournal came out, we were sharing many things besides just writing for our friends to see. Today, we have a much wider audience. We've gone so digital that sometimes our simulated lives appear far better than the real ones or in many cases, the digital world becomes too stressful. If we thought we were misunderstood before, the issues facing us are more challenging. Now, don't get me wrong. I like technology just as much as the next person, but I notice that I get anxious and uncomfortable far more frequently when I'm online for a while. The energy needed to be "social" online is surprisingly challenging, because...words have power. We write or text or message on social media much more than we engage in phone conversations. It's faster. It has its uses. But it does not always allow for proper, truthful expressions that a person can understand quickly. Sure, misunderstandings happen regardless of social media or digital communications, but it seems like it's a lot more often online in my experience.

What I've also noticed is that we tend to get into a "Me, me, me! Hey! Hey, look at me!" mindset when we get online, present company included! These are just general observations. It's not my intention to put people into boxes. Some are experts at navigating social media and the internet and do not run into these issues at all. And kudos to them! But, I make this point because I've seen it more often lately. It's sometimes to a point where I wonder why some of us seek that much attention or whether we are lacking the attention we should be getting in the first place in other ways. And I get it. Sometimes, being online is easier because of the faster response rate. I sometimes think about whether I'm caught up in that--do I seek attention for instant gratification? Am I self-absorbed? I admit that I've been weighed down with my own baggage in the past, where I could not see anything else other than my own skeletons in the closet. The words I used mattered. What I wanted to say and how it sounded were two different things. It begs another host of questions. Where do we draw the line between wanting to bring attention to an issue versus bringing negative attention to ourselves because of the way we make our posts or talk to others? How do we garner the kind of attention needed to ensure that the right message is received? I can't say I know the answer but it brings me back to the fact that words have power. 

My problem is that I am verbose. I'm sure you noted that by this lengthy post! But words are important to me. I write many stories, fictional, and of course this non-fictional blog, but I am aware that my words have power and agency just as anyone else's, so I temper what I say carefully without compromising on expression. I can still be misunderstood, but I'll at least know that I did my best to be clear. I have always been a storyteller, but it's harder to be an honest storyteller when your story is filled with mistakes. It's hard not to embellish it. Maybe that's why some of us seek attention online and find company that sympathizes with us--maybe we can make our stories look better with pictures or showcase something that is an imagined yet wanted reality. Again: words have power. Our thoughts have the greatest power. We cannot ignore them. We cannot chide ourselves for them. We have to let them pass, write them down, or express them in our own way. We can never forget though to choose our words carefully, especially for how we address ourselves. Words have power. Tell your story with words that have meaning, but do not give it unnecessary power that it does not deserve. 

Acceptance and Forgiveness

When we think about the catalysts for change, we sometimes imagine a singular event that set them in motion. History highlights major events that transformed states and countries into what they are today, whether they happened organically or by conquest, or revolution. However, reflection upon any catalysts for change in our personal lives are much harder to pinpoint as one thing or another. I definitely feel that way. To say that I have changed is an extreme understatement. Anyone close to me would say that they watched me go through the abyss, "the pit of despair" if you will, and come out alive, though not without deep wounds. Still, when I look at where I am today--I must confess that I am shocked at the multitude of changes that took place, both externally motivated as well as internally. Today, I see things through the lens of an objective third-person party. I look different now, and for the first time in years, I am completely at peace with it.

Several factors contributed to changes in my appearance and temperament over the past few years. I tried to look for the best option to get healthy again early on this year. I embarked on a journey of dieting and exercise along with meditation. I was not consistent, of course. With job changes, moving, and an increasingly cantankerous mood, I had little motivation to do do anything that required effort. So, what did change? To be honest, it's hard to to figure out what propelled me to turn things around. Maybe, it was just time. Maybe it had been too long for me to put off what I started. So, I worked to change my mindset and focus my energy on something that was better as a long-term solution. As the months wore on, I reined in the chaos that I let control me for so many years. I felt a sense of calm after what seemed like permanent flight turbulence. This was a very recent thing, but the difference is 100%. I feel lighter on the whole.

The hardest part of this journey is forgiveness. There are days that I have to remind myself that forgiving oneself is critical to health of the body and mind. I know what it's like to feel like you cannot function--that the depths of pain and despair hold you back tenfold, that with each step you move forward, other things pull you back and derail the progress you make. It's hard not to blame external factors. But I think we beat ourselves up much more. And sometimes, no one on the outside can help or truly understand no matter how hard they try or how close they are to us. Sometimes, they may not even want to--and I'm okay with that too because I know what it's like to watch someone suffer and feel helpless in that situation--or to not comprehend what to do--so we hide away in fear. It happens. And sometimes, we stay stuck in the abyss for too long. Sometimes, we blame ourselves for every little thing that goes wrong. Beyond just the guilt, our anger towards ourselves is just poison. It seeps into everything and leaves us with a bitterness that cannot be subdued. And it eventually turns on others, even those closest to you. But the bitterness and anger can only be alleviated by forgiveness--and it begins with you.

I learned over the course of the past few years that you have to love yourself enough to believe that you deserve to be forgiven--and that maybe you need to stop giving yourself negative credit for things you had no control over. We simply find it easier to point the fingers at ourselves because we believe that we should have been able to see things for what they were back then--but hindsight is, after all, 20/20. This is why we have to love ourselves. We are worthy of what we seek. We have to give ourselves the love we reserve for others. It's a very strange concept to think about--because the idea of loving ourselves can sometimes come across as narcissism--and even negative self-worth can appear that way! For a long time, I was that person. I was in the river of self-loathing, buried under murky waters. As I said though, I don't know how or why it happened but the need for clean air began to push me towards the surface and force me to swim ashore. I'd fallen into that cavernous pit many years ago. But I could not stay at the bottom of the well. I had to go up. There was no way out but to climb up and out.

So what does loving yourself look like? I cannot say. I don't know that I'd call what I feel now as self-love so much as reconstruction, a rebuilding of what was once there. I do care enough about myself to see things as they are and reflect without attaching results to specifics. So, how do you take the bare bones or the total destruction of something and rebuild it into something that not just survives but thrives? Maybe, we can look to history for some of those answers. People have come back from complete losses, absolute devastation. I have seen it in my own family. We had to rebuild after all of those losses. But time is a factor as it is in virtually everything. As the saying goes, Rome wasn't built in a day. We have to give ourselves the time needed, to not just deal in absolutes alone because they can be restrictive, and to be kind and patient with ourselves. We cannot abandon who we are to the cruelty that our own minds can inflict on us. But we can always reinvent ourselves and change if we need to because we deserve love. We deserve peace. I know how necessary it is to have that, especially when things are in flux, in limbo, in-progress. I'll say it again. We deserve love.

Aaaand I'm baaack!

It has been some time since I've blogged so it almost feels strange to write this. I took some time off for personal reflection and removed my blog because I did not feel inspired to continue writing. My life has been through some major upheavals and changes, but I'm in a place of relative normalcy if there is such a thing. What can I say about the past few years other than it was pure chaos? Chaos doesn't have to be a bad thing but it is if you are a person who thrives on routine and habit. And I was definitely one of those people. I thought I liked spontaneity but I realize now that there is a stark difference between spontaneity and impulsiveness. It was a fine line for me for quite some time. Now that I have an understanding of who I am, the journey that I've taken and continue to take, seems all together interesting albeit sometimes exhausting.

I never thought I'd be back here blogging, let alone writing anything fictional or otherwise. But I am back to doing those things. I reclaimed my life after heavy losses. I did not think I'd be able to do it. And sometimes, you surprise yourself with what you can accomplish when you feel that you have been tested to the limits. I decided to come back to writing because I needed to tell stories. I went back to doing things I enjoy but with a different perspective this time. My love for the creativity through performing and fine arts has always been there, but for the past few years so much of my life was marred by unforeseen circumstances and self-fulfilling prophecies. I distanced myself from many of the things that I loved. So coming back to it now, I feel a bit nervous and excited, a little bit rusty but determined. I look at this adventure as a different chapter in an entirely different storybook. The turbulent trilogy of 2014-2017 has ended. This is a new series, a new era and one that will hopefully have many, many seasons to go!

The path with no name

Some Musings here:

As I continue to read more folklore and ancient history facts, I find that I'm very drawn to symbols and linguistic forms that our ancient predecessors communicated with on a daily basis. From the intricate cave drawings *particularly the ones found at the Chauvet caves*, the ancient writing tablets, and various symbols carved into treasures, I notice that we as a species always found a way to code things. After all, what is language but a code. One thing remains true in decoding the past: We believed in something beyond just ourselves. It may differ from region to region in the world but we didn't believe that we were truly alone in the great beyond. Today, there are a multitude of beliefs ranging from acknowledging higher powers, to monotheism, polytheism, and pantheism to name a few. I don't typically share my personal religious and/or spiritual beliefs in blog posts but I did feel like discussing it here whilst reading about different theological perspectives within ancient religions and today.

My fascination with higher power and looking beyond myself began at a very early age, as early as the age of three. As children, we have imaginations that exceed any of the stories we are ever told. I often wondered how much of this fanciful thinking influenced me when I began elementary school. But as I grew older, I still felt like there was more than just meets the eye. I was wondering what the purpose of my place in the universe was. Those were the sole thoughts that occupied my mind. This path took me the longest time to solidify, through many turns and self-doubts...until now, where there is still a lot of seeking--but better understanding. That is what I like about self-reflection. It teaches me to be aware and present. The rationalist in me wants answers I can measure and quantify whereas the other part of me operates on the basis of faith. I don't really know how to marry the two but I know that I keep trying anyway!

The path I'm on doesn't have a name. I used many terms to describe it but at the heart of it, I realize that I don't need labels. I think when we often say that we believe in a higher power or are spiritual, not religious, maybe we really mean that it's our own beliefs in ourselves--and perhaps to a degree in serendipity when things go well. I used to have a fatalistic viewpoint but it made me wonder about free will. That is subject for a separate discussion but where I am now feels more like searching for something meaningful within. It was in my interest in folklore, languages, and religions that helped me understand myself and people better, and feel like I want to make a difference in the grand scheme of things. I think living in a day and age where we have so much available via the internet, it would behoove us not to learn about our past--so that we may better serve our future.

Coffee in the Morning

I realize now that it's become a commonplace ritual for many of us to have coffee. Perhaps, it's been that way for a long time. But I notice that my day feels somewhat incomplete if I don't have that first cup of coffee in the morning. I may not always eat breakfast but I literally never forget to have a bit of coffee once I wake up. Sure, in the past I have had coffee at all times of the day before but for some reason, the morning cup seems to make all the difference.

I don't know what power coffee in the morning has but it's akin to reading the morning newspaper. If you're anything like some of my family members, perhaps you wake up very early before it gets too warm and sit outside on your patio in a meditative state with that fresh cup. For me, the promise of a perfect cup and morning cartoons were my main motivators. They still are.

I suppose it's something of a tradition in my family to sit together and have coffee in the morning. Of course, this tradition stuck with me well past my high school days and college. It got me thinking about associations we have with many foods or drinks. For me, there's something comforting and natural about that cup of coffee in the AM. Now that I'm on my own, it's my daily ritual--and it's time to create new food and drink associations. Seasons and tastes change--this season I hope to try new things. I don't know that I'd ever give up my morning coffee but perhaps, I can segue into afternoon teas! Who knows?