Awkward hair phase.

  It took me probably over a year and a half, maybe even closer to two years, to get my hair to the length it is not, which is about shoulder/middle upper back-length now. Looking back, it doesn't seem that long and in fact, I've forgotten about so much of the time spent getting to this point; it's funny, in retrospect, just how many times I've threatened to cut it all off and go back to nothing. Well, very short and monk-like anyhow.

  It wasn't easy but it's worth it, if nothing else for the experience, because I'm pretty sure I'll probably lose a good bit of it at some later point in my life, thanks to genetics. It honestly constantly surprises me that my hair is capable of growing this long, so for me it's been an experience in all things yoga-like: patience... mostly patience, actually. And acceptance.
  I went through a lot of the aforementioned "awkward hair phases" during the process and looking back on them they make me laugh too, not just because of how they look but because those were not just awkward phases in my hair growth; they were awkward phases in my own growth. I'm not the same person I was then, if you know what I mean. If not, I simply mean that sticking to the experience teaches you a lot about yourself. To me, having long hair is more a sign of wisdom I've accrued in growing it, not at all for the sake of fashion or because I "look good with it".

  It's who I am right now. I have long hair. One day I will have short hair again, when it's time to. Or I won't.

  One just never knows what's in store..

Predilection

  You know, I have something to say. Obviously, because I have this blog set up but in all seriousness, this is about the celebrity of talent.

  I may have certain natural talents, as we all do, and I may be naturally fluent with words and gifted in such a way to arrange them attractively at times. But, that's it. I'm not more talented than you and it does not define my self worth. Just as someone who is skilled at carpentry is drawn to it either early on or at some random point later in life, I was slowly drawn to writing as my means and end. Eventually I started to listen up and really pay attention and slowly, eventually, I began looking deeper into life and using that as my infinite source of inspiration. There's no further magic in it but a little bit of luck and a decent helping of determination to make it a "thing".

  I say this because I'm insanely modest about such things, and don't like the attention, truthfully; but, I've been reading some things and hearing a lot of people say how they can't write because they're not good at it and this and that, and it doesn't stop at just writing: It goes for everything. Sometimes we just find something that aligns with us and we pick it up so easily because we already have some sort of natural predilection towards it. But that does not make those who do not have the same affinity for it any less vital; they could easily be writers if they tried. I hold with the mindset that anything is possible, if you want it badly enough and if you put your whole self into accomplishing it.

  I just don't want people discounting themselves when it's ridiculous to do so in the first place, and not only that but it excuses one from challenging themselves and being well-rounded all over as an individual. A case in point would be asking an adept at a certain craft or trade for advice on how to approach something, and then using that and successfully completing or achieving it. It can be done, anything; it's just a matter of believing in yourself and your limitless possibilities.

  So ends my rant for the night, on a positive note, at least. So, get out there and do something you never thought to yourself you couldn't do, and surprise the hell out of yourself. Cheers.

Buy the ticket, take the ride

  There's a part of me that believes that this path chose me, and not the other way around, though I have no way of really knowing because it's all subjective anyway. Whatever it is that you believe in, shapes your beliefs. I, personally, have always put more faith in the mystical spectrum of things, trusting my instinct and feeling my way through life; to me, there is no other way, and it puts me in a tough position to successfully understand where others are coming from but this isn't about beliefs, it's about walking the path that, depending on your beliefs, chose you or vice versa.

  The path in question is that of being a writer; I saw a quote from Kafka recently that says, "a non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.", and it blew me completely away. It's true, of course, and I haven't been writing. Without its releasing quality, things change inside me gradually and left alone for a long enough timeline, permanent shifts and changes in psyche follow suit. Before you know it, you're not sure you've ever been a writer and have lost yourself once again, deep in the woods of your own heart and soul.

  And this leads me to believe that this path has chosen me, just how naturally it came to be. And lately, I am that monster.

  It goes in spells though, creativity; it ebbs and flows. Periods of intense mental lethargy follow periods of intense productivity, perpetually chasing after one another like Ourobouros and its tail. It's frustrating, and even though I'm no Stephen King with even a single published book, the times they are 'a changing, and there unfortunately are not a lot of people who have or take the time to sit down and read a book. So, despite there always being those (like myself) who realize the power of holding a great book in their hands and appreciating that over any other medium, one cannot fall behind the 8 ball when so much of everything is digitalized these days.

  My dilemma is this: I like analog. I like doing things by hand, the old way or the hard way or whatever you wish to call it. I journal. I entertain myself with my own internal life and have a stack of personal manuscripts filled with time and energy, tracing my writing "career" back to its inception. My life in books, as a book. But none of it will ever be published. It's not for anyone but me. This, however, this is for everyone. And no matter how much my pride goads me to write an epic novel in the vein of Dostoevsky or a grand philosophical tale that would make Nietzsche proud, this is all I have for now. And that's enough.

  I'm getting a little more discerning as I go, now taking more time to finish thoughts and create cohesion than before, though I still hold fast to my sentiment of the rawest original thought and feeling as being the best, and most genuine. For the sake of my readers, I will be constantly keeping up with my checks and balances to keep evolving my craft with my own psycho-spiritual development.

  Like so many other things, it's a constant work in progress. Thanks for coming along for the ride.