On Time & On Time.

Time is an enigma: some days it's short and some days it's long. Time is relative. Microwave minutes are different from class minutes. Time is a thing that seems to change us all.

You close your eyes and then you open them and it's three hours later (but that may just be me and a nap, but either way). You close your eyes and suddenly you open them to see your undergrad career is ending in the most finite of time periods. You close your eyes and you don't know where time went. You close your eyes and the next time you open them, you're not sure whose life you're living.

I closed my eyes, and for the first time, I opened them. I woke up this morning and had a revelation.

I've been back in America for exactly 12 days. And if you would have asked me 12 days ago what my life would be today, I would have a very different answer. I would have said that nothing would have changed from what it used to be, and that I would go on letting time pass and waiting for something to happen.

I opened my eyes. In fact, I'm somewhat convinced I'm living in a bizarre parallel universe and that this isn't actually my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, but how long were my eyes closed?

In 12 days, everything has changed. Truly, it changed from my first day back in the country. But now, a new element gets added every day. A new piece of the puzzle falls in, and a new change happens daily, slowly but surely. And every day, I find that I see something new, and I find that I'm a little happier than I was the day before.

As I think about it, I think slowly but surely over time, things have been changing. That my life today should be no surprise. That if I sat down and wrote it out, it's been coming for a while. It's a surprise to no one but me.

So I have to wonder, are changes on time (on the passing of time) or on time (due right now)?

As much as change happens slowly but surely, and the passing of time is importance to see how far you've traveled, I think changes are more on time than anything. They're due. They happen when you least expect them and most need them. I think changes have a due date. It's just that we don't know them. It's not like a due date on your syllabus that dictates your future. It's a date beyond our control.

And then you have a choice: do you arrive on time, or do you leave yourself watching time pass wondering if change happens?

When change comes, you have to stand up and say, okay, I'm ready. When change comes, you have to open your arms and accept a new life.

When change comes, you have to open your eyes, and say yes, I am happy, and I am okay.

I'm on time. I opened my eyes. I see the change. I'm happy, and I'm okay.

Bring it on, world.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztotPvPA-mw

On Returning.

I remember hearing about this interesting experiment. In this study, they found that no matter how horrible something smells, you will always go back and try it again. I remember some friends and I tried it before we knew the results of the study, and every time there was a putrid smell, the person went back to smell it again. It was tried time and time again, and overtime, it was smelled twice before they walked away.

But why? Why do we stay to smell something vile and try again? Why do we stay for the thing that's horrible for us?

In a way, it's like a second chance. Something happens. Then the red flag is waved and the sirens blare. But you stay. Why?

I can't say I know, but I can say I'm pondering it. I think it's something about hope. I think it's something about change. We hope the second time will be different and that something will change. We hope our voices are heard and our actions are understood.

We hope, we hope, we hope.

But change isn't like Taylor Swift says. It isn't magical and swift. It's long and grueling, often littered with more defeats than victories. It often feels less glorious than one dreams of it being. Change is an elusive figment of one's imagination that drives insanity.

There was an author that once said that the very thing you want the most is the very thing that will drive you insane. I don't think he had any idea how correct he would be when he said that. But as I puzzle this out, I wonder.

Perhaps change is what drives us, but perhaps it's also to insanity. Put the pieces together. We go back time and time again hoping things change. And when things never change, it breaks us. It destroys us. We question everything around us.

All we want is change, but we want it so much that it's the very thing that drives us insane. Going back and going back and expecting different results and it never happening creates insanity. And insanity continues to drive us to return expecting change.

It's a vicious circle of wanting something so much, even though it will destroy you and it will never change.

Again, I can't say why you want to go back and smell it again, but I can tell you to prepare for insanity.

"I always wonder why birds stay in the same place when they can fly anywhere on the earth. Then I ask myself the same question."

It's Okay.

Definitely a great read...

http://hellogiggles.com/its-ok-to-miss-ex

Things you need.

This song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5uBTy10WFRA

Questions on Breaking that Break.

Every day, we meet people. It’s the new acquaintance in class, the guy working at the coffee shop, etc. But usually, we don’t communicate. It’s a silent acknowledgement in which a comfortable distance is maintained. 

The other day, we visited some art students in Jaipur. Keep in mind, I’m not an artist. I had some time, so I did some writing while I listened to our roundtable discussion. After the chat, a man came up to chat about my writing/drawing. He was a very nice man who was also a writer. 

After a few minutes, he asked if he could ask a personal question. I said why not? 

He asked me at what moment I broke. 

And then I stopped. 

I suppose most people would struggle understanding what he was trying to ask, and then muddle through trying to make up an answer to get out of the question. 

I stopped out of shock that he asked the question. But I knew the answer. In a matter of seconds I could recite the answer and the story. I was about minutes from being able to recall the date and the time. If I would have had the time, I could have told him the story for hours describing the minutia of the scenario and how it happened. 

Of course, I didn’t. I just gave the brief synopsis. 

But then I had an epiphany. 

It wasn’t the person who broke me. It wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. It wasn’t a lot of things. It was simply the words. 

For the sake of anonymity and such, I’ll leave out who said what. But the point is, I knew it all. Every detail. And it was the words said. 

There’s two points to this. 

(And a side note - how did he know I was broken? But anyways, moving on). 

One, what breaks. It’s the words. It’s when something that should be neutral becomes so violent and destructive. It’s something you hear and can’t unhear. And I’m still thinking about how those words still ring in my head. 

Two, the questions we ask. I meet people all the time, and I ask vague questions. Where are you from, how old are you, what are you interested in, etc. And those are good to start, for sure. And when I get to know someone, I ask some of the hard questions. But this man jumped right to the hard question. And somehow I felt safe enough to answer. But I’m curious. Why don’t we ask the hard questions sooner? And if we do, why are we so afraid to truthfully answer? Why do we have walls around us that continue to grow tall? 

I’m still thinking about this conversation. I will probably never forget it. I think his words will ring in my head as much as the words I replied to him. 

In some ways, I’m a bit proud of myself that I’ve come to the point in my life that I know the answer and can repeat it. Keep in mind, it’s been three years in the making. And I know I have my walls, and I’m still working on pulling them down. But I tend to think they would come down if someone asked me the hard questions.

And I wonder if I could help someone else if I asked the hard questions too. 

So, let me ask: when did you break?

And...

An update from India.

http://thewanderlustofanarthistorian.blogspot.com

Words.

If you asked me what I am, even though there are many answers, I would never say I’m a writer. 

And yes, I realize that’s a bit bizarre as I sit here writing a blog. But anyways. 

I don’t think I’m a writer. I think I have a voice. And I think I have an interesting comprehension of words and their meaning (blame it on my honors research). 

It’s called semantics. It’s the study of what words mean. It’s not my specific area of study, but I know a lot about what words mean. I also know that despite technical meanings and linguistic roots, words carry a lot of their own meaning based on context, culture, and the speaker. 

I think words are meant to be neutral. Ambivalent. Without charge. 

When we use words, more often than not, they become a knife. More often than not, maybe even a double edged sword hurting both the sender and the receiver. 

I think we forget that words have other connotations and other meanings that aren’t accounted for in the literal interpretation. Blame semantics for forgetting to consider the other part of language. 

As I sit here writing all these words, I know I’m not the most eloquent. I know I misuse meanings and don’t account for interpretations sometimes. But I like to think how words are interpreted and understand how words evoke emotions.

Sometimes, it’s the words you use so literally that mean something so subjective. Maybe it’s one point you try to express that comes across the polar opposite. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

The possibilities are endless, but more often than not, words are more than we think. They can heal, but they often hurt. They often do more damage than expected. They themselves are often unexpected and inexplicable, to say the least. 

But once they’re out, they’re there. Whether auditory or visually, they exist, and they don’t go away. 

But their damage isn’t always irreparable. 

As you sit here reading this, I hope you have an emotion. Maybe it’s unrelated to my post. Maybe it’s happiness from the day, sadness from a turn of events, hurt from another sequence of events, or anything between. Maybe it is my words that make you feel something. 

I hope my words make you feel things. 

But I also know my own words and the words spoken to me make me feel things. As I write this, I feel so many things. A happiness from a good day. A release from getting thoughts out. A pondering of how I’m grappling at syntax and semantics trying to express something beyond words. I choose each word carefully, hoping it carries more weight than that that can be expressed in words. 

And I don’t know that I have a grand epiphany that I want to express in the end as a thesis. But maybe all I want to say is that I hope you think about your words. 

I hope you wrestle with words. I hope you ponder the meaning. I hope you account for interpretations. I hope you listen when you speak, and listen when spoken to. I hope the words resonate in you as they echo through your receiver. I hope you ramble and ramble as you try to express and understand. I hope you reconsider. I hope you find your catharsis and epiphany. 

The answer is in the words. Just look a little closer. 

“Everything is different the second time around.”