Recovering lost Assets.

My mom is the catalyst behind this morning’s blog, and despite a slight hesitation, I feel I need to at least put some thoughts down.

My mom’s wisdom, as of late, has always been this: everything a person experiences, the good and the bad, the gain and the loss, the spirited and the painful, are chapters of our lives, granted by life for us to put down for others to read–to gain insight or reason. In all, I guess her reasoning is that exposing one’s wounds, the pitfalls and lessons, are invaluable to those willing to look. Transformative Learning comes to mind, though I’m not too verse on the definition behind the term, I feel it pulls it’s weight in this instance. If I had to imagine the process probably works like this: experience, identify, analyze, renewed experience or message. Now this of course is my definition of the phrasing, and coupled with a little bit of branded insight, I feel that there is in some case therapy to be gained from jotting down the pitfalls or disquieted demons that rise through our lives. Things look less painful, or more legible to the senses when written down. Of course the current sting of not making the baseball team, being rejected by a girlfriend/boyfriend, or an embarrassing scene doesn’t abate as quickly as the punctuation point or comma in this sentence, but the residual affects as the days and months crawl by seem less and less–the lessons learned afterward more important, the actions at the time not so much so.

I’m learning to accept learning, instead of stapling myself in time, to some feeling or argument that I couldn’t fix then( or now).

2009 has been an interesting year for me thus far; 2008 being a much better one–up until the end, and throughout the quarters, terms, whatever you want to call them, I’ve learned a lot about my reticent and mercurial selves. The former has been sporadic, appearing at times when some would expect to see the latter; and the latter necessitating self-depression as a resolution to any and all changes. I’ve been up and down the topographical map of emotions, and with respects to the specialists, self-help novels, and religious inquiry from them or by others, I know that the best remedy for the last two years has to be looking forward to the next two years. Now, I know this is irresponsibility set to the tune of failure, like predicting the snowfall in Montana from the beach house in Tampa, but taking things day-to-day, and toward the road ahead, seems to be the only predicate not affected by 2009.

So after a trying year and a half, her voice constantly insisting that I pen; I document my ordeals, successes, my mom’s prolate wisdom finally raps on my bedroom window. I will admit, it has been a cold, roughage filled meal to digest, having to announce creatively the bouts that perplex my mind and thoughts on digitized paper. Heck, a part of me wanted to just make this entry alone private–reserving the rights and eyes for myself only.

But then, where’s the honesty in that.


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