Quenched.

9.14.20

It can be a little difficult to articulate feelings sometimes.

But the worst is when you have an entire pattern of thinking that you suppress with sleep, and you can hardly retrace the steps of your last mental breakthrough. I had so much blogging content that was twisting itself around my mind last night, practically consuming me whole. Instead of writing them down for the betterment of my future self, (because isn't that was writing is? Just thoughts that have become artifacts in our own realities?) I fell asleep instead and landed in such an outlandish dream that all my pre-REM thoughts had fallen victim to retrograde amnesia. Although sleeping is great, I believe sometimes it ought to be sacrificed for the greater good. And yes I mean that greater good to be my blog content. I didn't stutter.

I'll allow you a glimpse into my writing environment. I'm sitting in a position my chiropractor would have a coniption over. My tailbone supports me as I slouch in a deck chair, laptop on my thighs and my legs extend outwards with my toes wrapping around the bars of my balcony for support despite teetering balance. My shoulders hover over and my neck holds semi upright and forward in traditional Tim Burton character fashion. There are faint train sounds in the background, nothing incredibly jarring, if anything I'd say melodic. I watch the hot shirtless guy walk out of his front door with his pretty coated husky, like always. It is 9 in the morning and there is a gentle breeze that ruffles the leaves of my roommates spinach plant on my right. On my left, my fluffy dog Rudy gazes upwards at me adoringly, wishing me a happy birthday. Silly Rudy, it just feels like any old day.

And it does. This morning doesn't feel any different despite the influx of well wishes. Has the internal shift not kicked in yet? Do I need to wait another year when l I break the teens until I do feel it? I guess I have two ways to look at it: I treat everyday like it's my birthday and that is why it feels the same. Or I have come to the realization that I can't hold this gallavanting notion of celebration that I have posessed since I was young. I think about how with the slighest changes in history, things could be so different. What if I didn't have my wicked awesome 5th birthday party at Build-A-Bear? If my standards hadn't been set to high so soon would I feel so idle on this birthday 14 years later? I know, proposterious. I feel like each day, more and more 'whys' are being uncovered. Which I suppose is just growth, but I'd rather stay pondering. I feel like an old decrepid man in his rocker reminicient on his past... what the heck I'm literally 19.

Hey you know what I really don't like? I know it is cultural, but I really don't like how women are ashamed to share their age. I am not considering myself to even be near that demographic right now but I am just saying that if I was, I certainly would not be bashful about a number. I'm not being apathetic, I get that the perspective of older women holds that they aren't so enviable and electric. But um... yes they are. And why do we as a culture put so much emphasis on the

Edit Sept. 6, 2020 8:37pm

I'm back! Sorry you guys had to endure that absolute sob fest. I was going to delete the beginning but I thought it would be funny to witness the contrasting views of the day. Oh little 9am Brynn, don't be so bitter. There has been an inexplicable shift this weekend. You know that silly little phrase of "seeing the glass half full"? I have found that to be an efficient practice as of late. {I am sensing a pattern of cliches being used throughout my blog posts but they are indisputably useful.} Let's look at an example shall we?

I dropped one of my Spanish classes yesterday. There was a lot of group work and collaborative assignments and I couldn't help but get frustrated with the lack of communication with my virtual classmates.. the standards the professor had been implementing just seemed too steep while digitally learning. Plus, I really value spanish and I want to learn in it in a nurturing atmosphere, so I decided to wait until I can do that. At first, I felt like kind of a loser for dropping. I have very little outside-of-school obligations and my work load is suddenly an impediment? Like what else do I have to do? Why not pack on the responsibilities? Ahem... actually keeping my sanity is on my to-do list this semester. I look back and I think of how defeated I felt when I admitted to my advisor I would like to drop that class. She reassured me that no amount of credits is truly worth the sacrifice of your happiness. And legitimately so.. why stress? Pressure is not a necessity for success and I don't know why that is so reinforced. Now I have more time to read for leisure (half full glass), apply for a job at the coffee shop down the street (mug half full), and people watch on my balcony (half full glass). And best of all: blog and talk to you guys! VERY FULL GLASS! I know you're all just absolutely beaming with delight right now...~ I can feel it~

Even aside from the smaller instances of perceptual shift and glass half fulls, I feel a larger entity that is no longer clouded. I felt like I had been carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders for so long. Feeling the election too deeply, feeling the rona impact intimately, the online education delivery, all of those empathy vaccuums. But yesterday! Something magical happened. I was driving near campus and sort of felt a little tinge of sadness that I am still unfamiliar with the student life this school has to offer. I still say 'Go pack!' but what exactly is the pack, I question. Interrupting my intermittent gloom, a surge of hopefulness washed over me and my lips curl into a childlike grin. I started picturing the streets filled with students and the stadiums with face-painted fans and just smiles on end. I got so giddy about this little visualization I had and tucked it away safely and securely into my intangible list of "Things to Be Excited About". Isn't the mind so great?

hehe half full:)

Also! Another positive I have been dying to share, while walking Rudy the other day, a person that crossed paths with me... did so with zero deviation. Often times, people will remove themselves completely from the sidewalk, desperately overcompensating for social distancing, sacrificing their lives to walk in the street to avoid my general vicinity. I get it, covid, but it always feels like such a let down. You can't exchange a smile and a nod from that far away and frankly, the neighborly embodiment doesn't feel the same. But yesterday, this middle aged man and his golden retriever just walked past me fearlessly and offered me a chipper "Good morning". I asked to pet his dog and he told me his name was BOB. The dog, not the man. Is that not the best thing ever? I pet Bob, too. It felt GREAT. I walked with a little more bounce in my step after that encounter.

Yeah forgot to add that I have a new walking route! It is great one actually, just the right ratio of uphill to flat terrain, good degree of shade along the way, but best of all is the home craftsmanship! I love picking out my favorites and tracking each minut detail that I will incorporate into my future home. But for now, I reside in an apartment I love with roommates who are oh-so-huggable. But, new atmospheres mean adjustments. Which aren't always a bad thing. In fact, it is great practice for this glass half full thing we started talking about together.

My friend Ally and I always joke about the plethora of personality assertions that exist. The Meyers-Brigg test, the Ennegram thing, Love Languages. Anytime we do something, we playfully claim our assignment: "Oh, it's just the ENTJ in me!" "Stopp you're such an 8 wing 9!" "No way, my love language is words of affirmation TOO." I think we as humans are always searching for answers and social understanding, so of course we stand by these tests. Besides, we love hearing about ourselves, it's just this wacky ego thing, so why wouldn't we want to be quizzed on ourselves- it's our favorite subject! This 'truth' seeking conquest certainly isn't wrong, but sometimes the seeking is just in vain. We desperately crave to understand why we act the way that we do, why we socialize in certain patterns, or maybe what part of our entity is holding onto the past. We are constantly yearning to be empathetic individuals, to relate and connect. That's what I love about the human race. But empathy doesn't always need a motive to act, you know? Why does understanding, getting test results, compel you any more to love yourself or others?

Take this as an example: *person A does something that is a nuisance to you*

you in your inner psyche: "Jeez that is so annoying! It is probably because he/she has a _____. They probably act that way because their parents always ______. They possess that trait because one time ____.

Then enters sort of a manipulated version of empathy that is conceived at an attempt at understanding. But see the thing is, the basis of empathy isn't even understanding. It's just acknowledgment.

We are always so quick to seek a diagnosis and yield answers solely for categorization efforts, for peace of mind. I promise that it is easier to love everyone despite not knowing them intimately. I don't need to know your enneagram number or your Meyers-Briggs acronym to spare you sympathy. Loving empathetically is a far more sustainable approach than incessant psychoanalysis. Less exhausting too.

~

Sometimes it is hard to end a blog. I just feel like I am learning so much and each day things are getting progressively better and I get so thrilled about it all, I just want to continuously share. Things are good. I couldn't possibly, rationally ask for more. When I say that things are good, I don't mean that they are temporally okay. I don't mean "Things are good right now and I anticipate for them to be sour eventually." I mean that I stand at a point of recognition in the present moment, that things are good eternally. I am quenched. Maybe that is a subjective proposition. But it can be objectively claimed that we suffer more in our imagination than we do in reality. I live in my imagination a lot, I can (impressively?) stay untethered for a while. But when you descend from that cloud of thought and daydreamt scenarios, it is imperative to remember that you aren't downgrading coming back to Earth. No, quite the contrary.

I think we are inordinately blessed to have this space, this physical means of inhabitance, a place where these visualizations we concoct in our minds can be carried out. And dreamt-of hugs can be received, a 'how have you been' from an old friend can be heard, and little pets of a golden retriever named Bob can be felt. The human experience is a cool one, man. Find the good, and then cling onto it.

Until my next ramble:)





photo explanation: Special shoutout to Kae Hamilton for getting my cat doodle tattooed on her ribcage this week. She is inked for eternity with a measly little scribble of mine. Cool chick right there.