Real Life: The Musical

Processing is a word I hate, but cannot seem to replace when it comes to matters of the mind. Over the past three years, Michigan State University has shown me good times, great times, and many devastatingly low/self-questioning/life altering times. The latter(s) have mostly been a gift from the DoT. Over the past semester, these life lessons have been coming at a pace of the rapid-fire sort. Everyday I find myself having these internal dialogues. I'll talk myself into some self-deprecating stoop then immediately talk myself out of it. I fight with myself. I let myself loathe everything and anything, but then discuss the pointlessness of holding on to such barren and needlessly heavy thoughts. You see, there is a fine line between being aware of where you are in a journey and hating every minute of it until you can get to the next spot. If I could just embrace the challenge ahead of me, the difficulty in getting to a new level of enlightenment, my thoughts wouldn't be wasted on the all-consuming internal back and forth. There is a specific kind of joy and excitement that exists only in these middle grounds. The joy comes from knowing a new version of you is ready to be downloaded. The excitement from being aware enough to discover and download You 3.0. The obstacle (besides the self-sabotage) in this enormous feat also lies in the lies. I really like to lie to myself in order to remain in the comfort of where I am currently. Tricking myself is putting the download on pause. I stop for a moment and revel in where I am. It's not the good kind of reveling- it's the I'm scared of where I am about to go so let's just stay here kind of revel. Being totally honest with oneself is terrifying and maybe not completely possible at all. It's not fun and perhaps not helpful for some. I need it. It's the only way up- or over, across, sideways- wherever I am headed. In creating who I am now, I've glued some cracks and painted over them without taking the time to really fix what caused them in the first place. Scraping the paint off and staring at the cracks until I figure out how they got there is a scary prospect. Uncovering the thoughts that I've purposely muffled entirely for all of these years doesn't sound like much fun- but in being honest to this extent, I hope to find the pieces to bridge the next gap. To not only fully acknowledge my (now heavy and full) subconscious, but also examine it and figure out where my hangups are coming from. Why do specific things trip me up in the way that they do? What motivates me? I want to open the honesty box to understand what really drives me to wake up everyday and pursue the seemingly impossible. I want to be better, not mad at myself for not being there already.

American Clock B Tickin' Tok (Like Ke$h@)

The gap between 11:38 pm and 2 am is very small. Seriously, like approximately one blink long. Also, I hate centimeters. They're like a smaller, less fun version of inches.