It's nearing 5 a.m., and I have yet to befriend sleep. The past six hours have been spent trying to find sleep, who would hopefully give me a chance to rest. However, as close as I may have gotten to finding sleep, the mission remains incomplete.
I began my quest to find this elusive fellow in my bedroom. Usually I simply close my eyes, and sleep finds me and carries me away into another world, filled with dreams and happiness. Unfortunately, this was not the case today. As I was not feeling well, I shivered under my thick blanket, double-layered pajamas, long socks, and 80 degree temperature. I rose about 30 minutes later, which felt more like an entire night, and tried my luck in my vacant brother's room. This process repeated about every 30 minutes, and each time the 30 minutes felt longer and longer until it felt like an eternity each time. On my journey, I visited the guest room, the living room couch, the floor, and more. However, sleep would not find me no matter where I called for him.
Now where I sit, I can't help but connect this experience with an even deeper one: the quest for happiness and belonging. As i trudged from location to location, I could not help thinking that this is what I have been doing all my life. I have been exploring new places and doing new things to try to find where I belong. I have been testing different waters in hope that I will find "my place," and with it, happiness. I have never really felt that I belonged fully to any group-never really occupied a specific niche. This thought brings me back to "The Wanderer" painting. Just like the man depicted, the search for self-discovery lays ahead.
Both my search for sleep and my search for a place in life remain unaccomplished, but now I will set out again for the former. The latter will come in time.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Beginning of Year
As i was reflecting on this past week, the activity of reading "how to survive" letters from last year stuck out like a sore thumb. I found that activity to be engaging, and I only wish I had had more time to read other letters. I found this to be an exciting activity for two reasons. First off, simply reading my peers' writing (some even my close friends) is an adventure in itself. It allows me to explore the minds of those around me (e.g. writing style, tone, word choice). Secondly, I was intrigued by what they had to say in retrospect of their senior years. The girl whose letter I read gave many suggestions about how to "live life to the fullest" in my senior year. What caught my attention, however, was my inability to connect with her advice.
Although I fully appreciate and understand that the writer wrote with her heart in her pen, I could not bring myself to think on the same plane as her. Her advice suggested that I make new friends and try new things, but this horse has been beaten to death and then beaten to death again by the spiked club of "new-friendship and trying-new-things". In short, I've become jaded by these hollow suggestions. I don't mean to insult her writing, which was captivating and well-written, but I just could not bring myself to embrace her advice. High school repeats these words like a broken record, and in response, I have gradually tuned it out.
On the other hand, I can see myself where she was coming from in ten months. I can see myself trying to make the most of the end of my senior year, and I can see myself thinking exactly what she was thinking. In fact, I'm certain that's what I'll be thinking by the end of the year. But I just can't do it now.
I guess that's just one of the many journeys of senior year.
Although I fully appreciate and understand that the writer wrote with her heart in her pen, I could not bring myself to think on the same plane as her. Her advice suggested that I make new friends and try new things, but this horse has been beaten to death and then beaten to death again by the spiked club of "new-friendship and trying-new-things". In short, I've become jaded by these hollow suggestions. I don't mean to insult her writing, which was captivating and well-written, but I just could not bring myself to embrace her advice. High school repeats these words like a broken record, and in response, I have gradually tuned it out.
On the other hand, I can see myself where she was coming from in ten months. I can see myself trying to make the most of the end of my senior year, and I can see myself thinking exactly what she was thinking. In fact, I'm certain that's what I'll be thinking by the end of the year. But I just can't do it now.
I guess that's just one of the many journeys of senior year.
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Wanderer
This painting evokes a powerful sense of journey and self-discovery. Judging by the coarse terrain and the majestic view, the man in the painting certainly has not just stumbled upon this spot. He has come here to learn about himself and where his future lays.
I relate myself at this point in life to the man in the picture through our shared desire for enlightenment. I have trekked, just as the man has, a distance of 17 years to find the peak where he stands. We are both looking out ahead into the world trying to find our place in the oncoming future while introspectively viewing ourselves, trying to realize our full potentials.
I relate myself at this point in life to the man in the picture through our shared desire for enlightenment. I have trekked, just as the man has, a distance of 17 years to find the peak where he stands. We are both looking out ahead into the world trying to find our place in the oncoming future while introspectively viewing ourselves, trying to realize our full potentials.
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