:{ Cerebral Surges ~ Blank Journal }:
A new year.
Three months have flown by and though sometimes I feel as though I haven't achieved much, I have to simply look back and realise just how much I've been through in such a short amount of time.
Life is changing, all around me.
Perhaps only too slowly to sometimes perceive in a normal reaction time, so it eludes your conscious mind, yet you know things are not, will not stay the same.
Things were set into motion at the start of the year, without my complete participation, yet I feel as though they are necessary. They are things I've long needed, but as is a shared insecurity amongst so many, I kept putting them off as possible choices, since they involved rapid, vast change to my comfort zone.
I don't take to change in my personal life too well, if it's not something I consciously choose to start.
With all this, one thing I decided at the end of 2016, was a promise to myself to truly allow time for reading. Embracing this passion of mine has relaxed me and yielded many a philosophical awakening and even epiphany at times.
I've changed, a lot, in the last few months.
Where I thought I had grown weaker, I've discovered an odd inner-strength I never really had.
Sure, six years ago I had maybe a shimmering impression of it, but all that started to crumble with my near-death experience and then was completely shattered a couple of years after by two unstable and selfish folk then with power in my life.
I've found myself stopping from biting the bait dangling from so many situations.
Twice now, I've noticed the complete absence even, of the impulse to react as I once would've.
Oh, the tempered indignation still flares up, but, to an extent unfathomable to me just a few months ago, I'm no longer engaging those situations as I once would've.
In reality, I have not lapsed into my teenaged emptiness. That shell I once inhabited, with happiness only as a cloak I put on and dropped upon returning to, albeit subconsciously, the entrance to my room, or at the door to my car.
However, one thing is certain: a feeling of absence. No, of departure.
It's as though, I'm there, but not really. Or no longer...
A realisation that nothing really was permanent and now I can truly see it for what it was.
Now I have a new mindset on interacting with the world.
I've let go of some of my impulsive nature. I've tamed that often perceived as impetuous child who simply could not conform to so much wrong around him. Somewhat.
I can still feel anger, frustration, even a hint of despair, but these flames are swiftly lowered by the alien shield of precognitive recognition.
So I go forth now, with a strange, blank page waiting after the recently whited-out one I am currently finishing.
To return full circle, I've started avidly reading again. It takes me away, oftentimes during busy moments in the day where one is usually already floundering under the weight of so much stress and negativity flying around like vultures.
I've just finished two books in preparation for the third, which I never got to read. As a testament to my realisations - simply skimming my review of the first book, written so many years ago, shows how much one's perception can change. I devoured the book, this time. I loved it and finished it in barely two weeks, (extremely fast for my life, these days, where so many duties and other hobbies endlessly war for a morsel of my time) immediately jumping into the second volume.
I will start sharing my thoughts and opinions on books, films and other passions again. My thoughts may be a bit more guarded and I doubt there will be many of these "Cerebral Surges", but I've considered keeping a journal again.
The lunacy will surely continue, but with renewed perspective and a new lease on life.
Perhaps I will even finish that draft of a book, so long forgotten.
Who knows. I will only make goals and realistic bars to reach.
This year will be a good year.
No, it will be a great year.
See you very soon.
Three months have flown by and though sometimes I feel as though I haven't achieved much, I have to simply look back and realise just how much I've been through in such a short amount of time.
Life is changing, all around me.
Perhaps only too slowly to sometimes perceive in a normal reaction time, so it eludes your conscious mind, yet you know things are not, will not stay the same.
Things were set into motion at the start of the year, without my complete participation, yet I feel as though they are necessary. They are things I've long needed, but as is a shared insecurity amongst so many, I kept putting them off as possible choices, since they involved rapid, vast change to my comfort zone.
I don't take to change in my personal life too well, if it's not something I consciously choose to start.
With all this, one thing I decided at the end of 2016, was a promise to myself to truly allow time for reading. Embracing this passion of mine has relaxed me and yielded many a philosophical awakening and even epiphany at times.
I've changed, a lot, in the last few months.
Where I thought I had grown weaker, I've discovered an odd inner-strength I never really had.
Sure, six years ago I had maybe a shimmering impression of it, but all that started to crumble with my near-death experience and then was completely shattered a couple of years after by two unstable and selfish folk then with power in my life.
I've found myself stopping from biting the bait dangling from so many situations.
Twice now, I've noticed the complete absence even, of the impulse to react as I once would've.
Oh, the tempered indignation still flares up, but, to an extent unfathomable to me just a few months ago, I'm no longer engaging those situations as I once would've.
In reality, I have not lapsed into my teenaged emptiness. That shell I once inhabited, with happiness only as a cloak I put on and dropped upon returning to, albeit subconsciously, the entrance to my room, or at the door to my car.
However, one thing is certain: a feeling of absence. No, of departure.
It's as though, I'm there, but not really. Or no longer...
A realisation that nothing really was permanent and now I can truly see it for what it was.
Now I have a new mindset on interacting with the world.
I've let go of some of my impulsive nature. I've tamed that often perceived as impetuous child who simply could not conform to so much wrong around him. Somewhat.
I can still feel anger, frustration, even a hint of despair, but these flames are swiftly lowered by the alien shield of precognitive recognition.
So I go forth now, with a strange, blank page waiting after the recently whited-out one I am currently finishing.
To return full circle, I've started avidly reading again. It takes me away, oftentimes during busy moments in the day where one is usually already floundering under the weight of so much stress and negativity flying around like vultures.
I've just finished two books in preparation for the third, which I never got to read. As a testament to my realisations - simply skimming my review of the first book, written so many years ago, shows how much one's perception can change. I devoured the book, this time. I loved it and finished it in barely two weeks, (extremely fast for my life, these days, where so many duties and other hobbies endlessly war for a morsel of my time) immediately jumping into the second volume.
I will start sharing my thoughts and opinions on books, films and other passions again. My thoughts may be a bit more guarded and I doubt there will be many of these "Cerebral Surges", but I've considered keeping a journal again.
The lunacy will surely continue, but with renewed perspective and a new lease on life.
Perhaps I will even finish that draft of a book, so long forgotten.
Who knows. I will only make goals and realistic bars to reach.
This year will be a good year.
No, it will be a great year.
See you very soon.
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