Category: Experience

I like celebrating Thanksgiving. Not because of its history and its roots, for I wouldn’t think of celebrating the holiday if that was the case. I celebrate Thanksgiving because of what it means to me. I like to be grateful for everything in life, but Thanksgiving serves as a reminder of just how much there is to be thankful for. When I think about the food that’s going to be served on the kitchen table, I also remember that there are people who won’t have the same opportunity. There are individuals who are in a hospital bed, a jail cell, or lying on the street right now. I have a roof above my head,  I am provided with food and clothing, and I’ve been fortunate enough to be surrounded by people who love and support me. For that, I am eternally grateful, especially so on days like today.

Thanksgiving is a day I send my friends paragraphs, expressing my love and appreciation for them. My friends’ reactions to it bring me joy for they deserve the immense appreciation that goes towards them. Thanksgiving is the day where everyone is home, and we all get to eat together as a family. No one’s at school, or at work, or taking a nap. Everyone in the household is at the same place, at the same time, enjoying the great meal. Thanksgiving, in my experience, is a day filled with happiness. It’s a day where some friends and family gather. It’s a day where I am reminded that everything, even those that seem ‘little’, counts, and that there is great importance in being grateful for it all.

I love to write.

That’s why English has always been my favorite subject. That’s why I enjoy typing long paragraphs, either motivating or proving a point. That’s why I love both writing and receiving letters.  That’s why I aspire to write a best-seller one day.

I love to write.

I love writing for different reasons, one of which I realized in fifth grade. I remember the family problems going on back home. It was evident to two of my teachers that I was feeling down, despite me denying it every time they asked. Day after day, they’d ask what was wrong. Day after day, I’d reply “nothing”, with a contradicting sad smile. One day, one of my teachers told me, “If you can’t say it, write it.” That’s exactly what I did. After a math lesson, he gave the class free time, but handed me a sheet of copy paper and a pencil. I sat at a table, took a deep breath, and began writing. I wrote, and I wrote, explaining my situation and expressing my concern. I remember drops of tears falling on the paper as I wrote my last sentences. I remember handing both my teachers the letter, nervously waiting for them to finish reading it, and the encouraging words they said afterwards. I remember feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder… Since then, writing has been a coping mechanism. Instead of bottling emotions, I wrote about them.

I love to write.

When I can’t seem to say something out loud, or when I can’t find the right words to say, I write it all out.

When I feel inspired, I take out my pen and paper and jot it all down before I lose my train of thought.

When my friends are seeking advice and encouragement, I send them a lengthy paragraph or two.

When I feel sad, I write about it. When I’m overjoyed, I write about it.

When my best friend’s birthday is a few days away, I sit on the end of my kitchen table, and start writing her annual birthday letter, thanking her and reminiscing on our past adventures.

I love to write.

Writing is one way I can help and inform people. Writing is how I deal with most of my emotions. Writing lifts my spirit.

I love to write because writing is a part of me.

 

 

Hearts get broken.

It’s a part of life. At least once, you’ll find yourself in a situation that turns your world upside down, that wrecks you, that breaks your heart. Someone or something you thought would always be there suddenly won’t be. You’ll receive news that devastates you. Maybe you’ll breakup with the person you thought was your forever, witness a split that changes everything, lose the pet you’ve had since you were five or fail a test you stayed up all night studying for.

It happens. It hurts.

Hearts get broken.

Some deal with the pain by shutting out the world, some spend days with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and a TV, some channel their sadness into hating everyone, everything and existence itself, some dive into work. Everyone copes differently.

Hearts get broken,

But they can also mend.

Some people don’t let their heart mend, they harden it. They become cool, closed off, and build a wall. They become afraid to feel because feeling can lead to more heartbreak. They become afraid to love, and afraid to let others in.

Hearts can mend.

It takes time. It takes patience. It takes will.

It’s not easy, and it can’t always be done alone, but it’s possible.

Hearts can mend,

But it will only mend if you let it.

Image from: https://www.briansolis.com/2017/05/innovation-begins-shift-perspective/

When two people are in a disagreement, they’re each trying to prove their point. Two individuals can read the same story, but interpret it in two different ways. People don’t always see eye to eye on ideas and topics, but that’s simply because they have different perspectives. For a good amount of my life, I’ve been surrounded by people like me; people of the same race, same beliefs, and similar lifestyles. This made it easy to forget that there are others who aren’t like me.

It started when my fourth grade teacher told us she voted for John McCain and not Barack Obama for president. Majority of the class gaped at her, as to ask “how could you not vote for the man who could become the first black president of the United States?” My teacher shrugged and quickly mentioned how she liked McCain’s ideals/ platform more. I soon learned that she was a Republican, which at the time I knew little about. I never thought about different political views until then.

During the summer of 2015, I was playing a game of would you rather/this or that with someone I recently met. The options were “God” or “Big Bang Theory.” I replied with “God of course” but her response was “Big Bang.” She then explained her point of view, the fact that she’s an atheist and why. At that very moment, it dawned on me that she was one of many who didn’t believe in God or a higher power.

As I grew older, went to different places and met different people, I learned more about perspectives, which varied depending on the individual. I’ve met liberals, existentialists, people with big and small circles [of friends], those with conservative ideals, individuals with the “YOLO” mindset, people with different religions, people with no religion, and so forth. I may not always agree on someone’s take about a topic, but I listen to and respect it regardless. It’s interesting to see just how different we all are, how our life experiences and surroundings take part in shaping who we are and how we think. Listening to other’s perspectives keeps me open minded.

It’s also important to understand that just because you listen and consider the point of views of others, doesn’t mean you’ll lose yourself. It doesn’t mean that you can’t hold on to what you believe in. However listening to others’ point of view can remind you of how diverse we all are.

Perspectives vary.