Posts tagged with "change"

Amplitude

Sometimes it feels as if I’ve changed in an infi­nite num­ber of direc­tions. Every change comes as a result of some unsat­is­fac­tory char­ac­ter­is­tic of my for­mer self. The result, hope­fully a series of what I con­sider improve­ments, becomes the oppo­site of traits I once possessed.

Confidence is an exam­ple. It’s only now, after more than eight years of con­scious work, that I’ve gained some form of con­fi­dence, of self-respect. And I appre­ci­ate it now, not only in myself but in other peo­ple as well. It was my own dif­fi­dence that drove me to become an assertive per­son. This isn’t to say that it’s some­thing I’ve stopped work­ing on. I’m not quite sat­is­fied yet, because I’m still learn­ing to pre­vent over­con­fi­dence, but other than that I think I’ve come quite far.

The same goes for quite a few other things. Having no friends has made me a bet­ter one. Being alone has made me a patient lover. Being shy has made me more out­go­ing. Having gone through emo­tional ups and downs has made me more stable.

Being weak has made me stronger.

Quartz

When peo­ple ask me what my favourite novel is, I tell them, “A Hero of Our Time”, and that’s been true for more than eight years now. It’s a prime exam­ple of Russian Romantic Literature, and I can appre­ci­ate that. It’s bril­liant, not only in it’s lyri­cal style but also for the com­plex­ity of the mind­set cap­tured by the pro­tag­o­nist, which makes it such a plea­sure to read through. It’s intel­li­gent, it’s inter­est­ing, it’s cre­ative, yet none of these things make it my favourite. It’s not even the book I’ve enjoyed read­ing the most.

It’s sim­ply been the most influential.

Lermontov’s novel once offered me guid­ance (albeit blindly) when I needed it the most. His words have shaped me more than any­thing else I can think of, even though I’ve cast off most of my for­mer self related to this. I still see his work as being an inte­gral part of my devel­op­ment, in mak­ing me who I am at every chang­ing moment, and that is why I hold so much impor­tance in it.

All of it was a mat­ter of tim­ing. Otherwise, I’d prob­a­bly think that it was just another bor­ing book I was forced to read in grade 10 English.

The same goes with my rela­tion­ships, some­thing I would never have thought was related to tim­ing. It’s funny to think that my most sig­nif­i­cant rela­tion­ship was also my short­est by far, with a per­son who is most likely to think noth­ing of it at all. And every­thing that made it impor­tant to me was a com­bi­na­tion of a very spe­cific mind­set I had at the time and the fact that this per­son was such a change from my pre­vi­ous girlfriend.

The same goes with my favourite movie and my favourite band. I’ve become a per­son who holds more sig­nif­i­cance in the things that change me than the things that please me.

And change is a prod­uct of time.

I Mentally Outgrow My Clothes

Found a great stark red dress shirt at Banana Republic yes­ter­day that I wanted to pur­chase right then and there, but unfor­tu­nately I don’t have any money any­more. I’m flat out broke, going into debt for the first time in my life, unless I decide to take up a tem­po­rary job in January instead of going back to school. The first thing I’m going to buy when I get a job is new clothes. Running across that shirt gave me a great idea though; I’m going to try intro­duc­ing more reds into my wardrobe. I cur­rently only have a maroon golf shirt, and most of my clothes don’t seem to match my cur­rent moods/outlook. The pre­vi­ous year has been very neu­tral khaki and navy blue, while the year before that was mostly blacks and greys.

The only real down­side to con­stant men­tal change is that it seems like I’m out­grow­ing my wardrobe every year.

The NEMLC

When I went home for Christmas three years ago, I was a very con­fused per­son. I had no idea what I was look­ing for, what I was doing. When I came back, I felt as if I had gone through some sort of mid-life cri­sis. I still didn’t know what I wanted, but for some rea­son I wasn’t con­fused any­more. Did I end up resolv­ing any­thing? To this day I don’t know.

What I do know, how­ever, is that I haven’t stopped chang­ing. Even if I did come to some con­clu­sion back then, it would have no rel­e­vance today. So many things are chang­ing, not the world around me, but me myself.

I see this as a good thing. It lets me know that I’m still learn­ing, that I’m still liv­ing to the high­est degree. I have dif­fi­culty “defin­ing” myself, dif­fi­culty under­stand­ing my own (long term) actions some­times. As I’ve known since high school, it usu­ally takes me at least half a year to under­stand the choices I make.

Sometimes it feels like a con­stant mid-life cri­sis when I keep ques­tion­ing the deci­sions I make and the rela­tion­ships I have with oth­ers. I ques­tion things not with doubt, but with curiosity.

And this has filled my life with uncertainty.

Mind Muffler

It always inter­ests me to learn how some peo­ple are changed so sud­denly in their lives. An inci­dent, whether it’s retire­ment, grad­u­a­tion, death, or any­thing of such a mag­ni­tude, cause some to have new rev­e­la­tions or epipha­nies. The fact that it takes some­thing as dras­tic as these sit­u­a­tions to affect some peo­ple seems seems a lit­tle odd to me.

Do these peo­ple not think at all in their daily lives? Do they go through one day to the next with­out look­ing at the big pic­ture, with­out see­ing some sort of perspective?

I think I’m gen­er­ally unaf­fected by such extreme events because of the fact that I try to find mean­ing in almost every­thing I expe­ri­ence (risk­ing pre­ten­sion). It ends up being that some­thing like the loss of a favorite shirt can affect me as much as fail­ing an entire uni­ver­sity course. I feel as if I learn enough about myself from both events. As a result of this, I some­times change on a day to day basis, although it’s gen­er­ally on a minis­cule level and takes a while before it all builds up into any­thing noticeable.

Of course, this also means that very lit­tle ends up sur­pris­ing me. I’m rarely shocked by any­thing, and often feel like my emo­tions have been lev­eled off, per­haps numb or sim­ply accus­tomed to change. I don’t get dras­ti­cally affected any­more, and in turn, can think and act clearly accord­ing to my set of logic. The only thing that ends up over­com­ing my cere­bral­ity is hate.

And love.