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an unexpected return

greetings all. it has been some time and in it, i have changed. for one, i’m terrible at uppercasing now. I just don’t unless, as was the case there, it is forced upon me. can’t win them all. but far more has changed than just my grammar (is that grammar?).

I went to graduate school for philosophy and found that I didn’t love it. what I had dedicated some four years of my life to, and my predicted future, turned out to be a mirage I’d created for myself. so, I went wandering.

I left home – completely. and not in the most sterling fashion. I was disavowed by both of my parents for asking them not to open my mail. a deep can of worms I won’t open here. don’t want to spoil your appetite.
because not all that changed was bad as it might seem. I am now freer, no longer tied to my parents and their expectations. I have an open future for the first time in years. I work as a copy writer, and though it can be tedious, I get paid to write. in some ways, that is a dream come true.

most of all, I’m still writing. no longer the short stories I once wanted, but poems. and even there, almost exclusively haiku. perhaps for one to master an art they ought to engage in many forms of it. but I no longer am concerned either with recognition or mastery. what I produce I produce for myself. and I’ve never enjoyed it more.

and while I struggle still – being an adult is hard, everyone is right – I enjoy the struggle. like Sisyphus, I’m learning to smile at the labor. I may have moved on from philosophy, but the comparison still stands.
and while I push my boulder each day only to watch it roll back with the rising sun, each new day offers new things. small in nature and easily overlooked, like little silver threads in a great tapestry. and with those threads I spin my stories and poems. I find solace and sanctuary in them, fleeting though they might be. each day I move forward, though to where I do not know.

in less sweeping and dramatic ways, I’ve changed as well. I am working on my anxiety, which I now recognize for what it is. I have learned to cope with my depression as well and to spot its harbingers. and while I cannot fight off in full the desolation it brings, I am more prepared each time.

and I am happy. a phrase I’ve sought all my life only to realize it lay back where I started. so many circles I’ve wandered (and still the many more to come, for I am young). but each was worth the round trip to wind up where I am.

I’ve been doing most of this sort of writing by hand in my journals, but now I think I’ll share them more. a pity to hoard all my thoughts away when, every now and then, one stands out, like a dandelion in a field of grass.

so, I leave you with a poem and a promise to post more.

cat purring, crow cawing
outside, the snow is falling
and somehow
against all odds, I sit here
smiling, smiling, smiling.


(I lied; I also write tanka as demonstrated above. forgive me).

Comments

preferring lowercase and short form(s) myself,
i appreciate you have retained
one consistently capitalized word.
best,
:)
 
I am glad that you're alive, at the very least.

Life takes unexpected turns. While you may not have found your love for philosophy while attending school, maybe you still have that love, somewhere deep down. I think the paradox is that sometimes trying to take what you love and make some form of living from it, can destroy the thing that you love in the process.

Or maybe you outgrew your love for philosophy.

Perhaps that will happen to me and writing. I often worry that I'm going to go all the way through with this journalism business, and end up hating it, or be unable to find a decent job.

I often come back again and again to the realization that Socrates was right. I don't know anything. Not even myself.
 
Smith;bt15171 said:
I am glad that you're alive, at the very least.

Life takes unexpected turns. While you may not have found your love for philosophy while attending school, maybe you still have that love, somewhere deep down. I think the paradox is that sometimes trying to take what you love and make some form of living from it, can destroy the thing that you love in the process.

Or maybe you outgrew your love for philosophy.

Perhaps that will happen to me and writing. I often worry that I'm going to go all the way through with this journalism business, and end up hating it, or be unable to find a decent job.

I often come back again and again to the realization that Socrates was right. I don't know anything. Not even myself.

ah, good old socrates. i find i disagree with him on more and more things, but that is not one. though, not knowing oneself perfectly is certainly forgivable, especially if you’re trying.
I think I’ll always love philosophy, just not academic philosophy. there is a priority given to being right and an almost religious belief in truth. I no longer think the truth they search for exists, and pretending I did for a job was not working out. I still philosophize though. my poems are just more succinct than a philosophy paper.
 

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