It's been a while, should have written more often. But the funny thing is, the second half of 2015 or the last quarter of 2015, I never felt the need to write anything, for some reason. That natural flow of words left me after I left Mexico city. I tried to sit at a restaurant or a cafe when the wind was blowing my face like a sharp knife, yet nothing came out eventually. Sometimes, I put down a few words but my hand would stop because of the physical fatigues, which isn't usually something that would keep me stop from writing. The answer is simple and straight forward, I lost it, I lost sentiments, I lost my thoughts, I was lost in numbers and rigorous logics. The illogic that made me interesting as a person left me for at least 4 month.
I was very surprised and deeply worried, because I have changed so much last semester that I resemble little the person I want to be. I used to listen to a lot of interesting indie music, now all I'm listening to is house/techno. They seem to be the only things that could excite me, in terms of how they became the only thing that could give me a visceral reaction. I became a machine that consume that mental stimuli, but not ideas or interactions with other individuals. I am failing to understand in so many ways. All these changes in my life give me a lot of existential crisises, a change of taste in music, which I hold extremely dear, could inspire thoughts about what I want to do in my life, eventually.
Or maybe I am using music as a scapegoat, maybe it's the time for me to figure out what I want to do in my life, maybe the dead line is coming closer towards me and these thoughts would occur anyways no matter how my taste in music would change. I feel like an unborn baby being pulled out of the mother's womb by a pair of hands of the doctor's.
People say I need to face the change, but that translates to me as "make compromises". They could be right, overall, it's what people has been doing for ages, but I am simply not willing to let my ideas go, I refused to believe I would become like other people, giving up imaginations and put their feet on the ground. I would love to dream, to dream the dream that would one day become the reality. I believe it's just a matter of persistence, maybe their ideal and my ideal are equally possible to become real, and I just have to be strong enough to be sure, to be unshaken by the influence of the others. I am perfectly aware this a dangerous thought because this could lead a ruler to become a tyrant. So maybe my claim should be less extreme, I fall into a gray scale, somewhere in between easily giving up and not listening to anyone. All these lengthy arguments to make me feel certain or sure about my position never works as they intended. Maybe this is the moral of the story, I should stop setting definitions and putting myself into a box that I never belong to, in my world, people don't think outside of the boxes, because there are no boxes.
I had a rather heated conversation with dad the other day, he was trying to lead me towards a clearer career path, but I was refusing to follow his lead, I didn't feel secure to be lead by someone, even if that person was my father. I trust my judgement the best and I never developed the skills to give up my independence of thought. I hope this doesn't reflect my lack of trust in people because I still want to convey the message that I can work in a team, however, it is true that I have my own specialties, in terms of dealing with advises.
I hope I can be my true self again, denying active thinking isn't the right way and as proved by the fall semester, it's actually a disaster. I don't want to live in a suppressed constant paranoia anymore, I want to be able to feel, to love, even to hate. I will leave myself shattered and pick myself up pieces by pieces. This is what I'm asking for in 2016, nothing substantial, but an experience or a process.
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