Dear Future Me

This year was a little different. There was a lot of adjusting that had to take place because of so much change. And while I can’t say I was happy the entire time, I won’t say each event hasn’t pushed something out of me.

There’s a lot of goals I have, that I’ve always had, and now I just have new motivation to chase them. The fear of dissatisfaction will always be a lurking entity that I won’t be able to shake until I get to where I want to be. At least right now, though, I’m happy with who I am and where I’m headed.

A note to future me from your old self:

Always look up. This is a nasty habit that me, the old you, has and always has had. You’ll never get where you want to be if you’re not looking where you’re going. The ground has nothing to offer you other than keeping you attached to the Earth’s crust. Trust yourself. Trust your intelligence, your confidence, and your intuition. You got this.

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Caption: The truth is, I wasn’t sure what to post, but the short version is: happy (belated) birthday.
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A Post Lost in Time

Typically, before I post any lengthy reading online, I pre-write it in a word document. As I was scrolling through this document, I came across an old, unfinished post that I believe I started writing the same day or the day after the event it was referring to. I just decided to share it before it either gets lost further down the line or I delete it entirely.

I had the greatest opportunity of attending a conference for one of my social justice heroes… and it’s still so surreal to me.

I found out about Jane Elliot around a year ago. It started with a simple video that circulated my Facebook page, but I wanted to know what I was watching, I wanted the full story. Jane Elliot is best known for her “Blue Eyes, Brown Eyes” experiment she did with an elementary school class she taught. The videos I found myself watching while looking her up involved her replicating that experiment with groups of older people. I listened to her explanations on why she continued to do the experiment and why she does her work. After those moments, I made up my mind that should I ever get the chance to see her work in person, I would take it without hesitation.

And I lived up to that promise. My psychology teacher told us that he and a committee of others worked hard to make it happen, but Jane Elliot would be presenting at campus. “Jane Elliot? At our little community college campus…” Surely, she was there. And so was I. I was anxious to see her when presentation day came; I was both nervous and excited. I loved every moment of the event. I’ve always thought of Elliot to be a considerably strict, “business” woman on a mission. But she’s charismatic, entertaining, and very informative all at once.

I’ll admit, however, it was difficult listening to and believing some of what she said. It wasn’t the factual things or the more obvious things that I knew to be true; it was those anecdotal moments where I couldn’t bring myself to believe that she had those conversations and that people are actually as nasty as she depicted…

And those moments are what makes the whole experience so surreal.

Jane and I
I honestly love/hate this photo. She had said something funny just as the shutter went off… nonetheless, I got to have this moment. That’s what matters.

Small Finds

Occasionally, I find old and interesting things in my room. Today, I found my seashells I collected from the last time I visited my grandmother. Here’s to a post consistent of poor quality photos a shorter text than I’m used to:

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Caption: I apologize in advance for poor photo quality. My phone camera isn’t a 10/10

It’s been a few years since I grew this collection and today was the first time sifting through them all, removing leftover sand and old broken off shards. I didn’t realize how large a collection it was until I decided to do so, but I carried on since I had already began. I placed them according to a mental gradation of color, texture, or shape, and tried my best to keep that consistent.

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This was the “ideal” or typical group of shells, the commercial type ones that are often depicted when you see a seashell on TV shows or commercials. These shells were predominantly white and had the classic seashell shape. There were more that I grouped a little differently because they weren’t consistent with the bulk. Can you see the really small one in the middle? Doesn’t it look more like a baby tooth?

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These shells were closer to a thin gray-charcoal color. The deeper gray ones are small and more towards the middle of the group; the shells on the outer circle were the ones I decided not to put in the “ideal” group, because their bottoms were more this color. It made a nice little color grade in the group (which most likely isn’t well depicted with such bad lighting). This group was mostly interesting for the amount of smaller shells it had.

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This was perhaps my favorite selection of shells to look at. The photo quality makes them look more deep brownish or red, but these shells are littered with pretty magenta colors and thinner purples. Patterns like that of the color on these shells would do great for a shirt or dress, some piece of clothing. I also noticed a lot of these shells were broken but I refuse to throw away something so pretty because of a little damage (cue Tumblr quote post). Did you notice that one of the shells blend into my carpet a little? I didn’t either…

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These were all the shells with a more interesting texture of topical shape or form. These shells were on a scale of really rough and atypical to pleasurably soft. The shell in the middle looks like a dumpling of some kind, so it’s sort of the robin among the crows, ironically. The one just above it felt more like a rock than a shell when I first picked it up. But it didn’t have the weight to match, so I put it here as well.

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I wanted to include these shells with the gray pile but the color value and shape contrast was so drastic, I had to give them their space. I have a theory about this pile, actually. Notice all of the broken, long shards? A few summers after this visit, my uncle found a clam shell that he had cracked open (and, yes, there were pearls). These remind me of the inside of that clam shell. Perhaps these are shards of another clam shell? Maybe it wasn’t dismembered in the same way, but it would make sense to me…

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Lastly, these two sets are my favorites out of all of my shells. On the left are the smallest shells out of all of them. They look almost like teeth, they’re so precious; I was scared I’d crush or lose them if I held them. On the right is a shell from the abnormal pile and a shell from the magenta shells. The top shell reminds me of something like the Magic Conch Shell from Spongebob (and it tickles me to think about). The second of the two is a really pearly, smooth baby pink. Not only is it pleasing to look at, but much like its friend, it’s smooth to the touch.

Yes, I did have to clean some sand and shards from my carpet, but I didn’t mind. I also have a smaller collection of interesting rocks that I kept, but I didn’t care to take more poor-quality photos. We’ll save that for another post, when I have more of them and a better camera.

Daydreaming Alone

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This is what I know.

Where I’ve grown, where I’ve sown.

This is what I hold to me; here is where I hold to me

This is what I want. This is what I need,

But my desires clash with what I see:

A future that isn’t mine; something being shoved into my arms

Something, no matter how loud I cry, I cannot just discard.

I know because I’ve been trying for some time by now

But closer by the hour

Inevitable

Undeniable

Here comes the flood, to wash away my home

The foundation where my goals began; the place to which I ode

No matter. It’s gone. It always has been

Physical may it not be; Yet I still hear the din

Approaching with a quickness, it’ll be here soon

At my feet, consuming me; I succumb to this monsoon

I pray it devours me quick so that I may rise strong

But as well I pray it washes feelings away of the home for which I long