Well, its that time of year again. I’m probably just going to reserve myself to writing smaller posts from now on, and in doing so totally rip off a fellow writer. But at the end of the day, I kind of look forward to doing this, coming back to this blog after pretty much a year. Mainly because I don’t want to write for the sake of writing, like I used to (good god some of my previous entries are cringeworthy). But the more sporadic ones, they’re the ones I’m most proud of, and they appear to incite the best response so huzzah! I suppose.

The initial kick for this one came about a month ago, from once again, the most unusual of places.

I’m bad, and that’s good. I will never be good, and that’s not bad. There’s nobody I’d rather be than me. – Wreck-It Ralph

I came to realization early this year that I care far too much about what people think about the way I act and the way I came across. Every university student goes through that phase of “lets be friends with everyone,” or something along those lines. Picture that ten-fold and you have keen fresher me. Looking back its really quite comically pathetic, I really can’t help but be amused by all of the hijinks that we all became part of, hijinks that I was usually at the forefront of, and making a total arse of myself in the process.

But I suppose that’s what happens in first year. You arm yourself with your image/personality that serve as the springboard to some kind of symbolic hitting-of-the-reset-button on life. You dive into things with an open heart whilst at the same time maintaining some kind of shield from the outside world.

Thankfully with second year came hindsight, and the ability to say “well, that didn’t exactly work did it?” So before the year started, I had a choice. I could either continue with that first year act, or I could remove the mask entirely and just be myself. The latter has been a lot better I tell you that. Once you stop caring, you ease into unfamiliar situations a bit more, and I think that’s the crux of Mr. Ralph’s words. I spent a large portion as a fresher trying to be something I wasn’t, which ultimately made it less enjoyable. As soon as I took that mask off, I was a lot happier in my own skin as opposed to someone else’s.

When Jaime, opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the stump of his sword hand. The hand that made me Kingslayer. – Jaime Lannister, A Storm of Swords

I suppose the biggest contribution to that was the removal of my last symbol of post high-school rebellion, in the form of a much needed haircut. I only ever grew my hair out to act as a physical manifestation of that mask I think, it seemed to have kept me safe, protected, as if I couldn’t be seen should I slip up. It became a symbol of shame and my greatest weapon at the same time. Without it, I am weaponless, but also shameless. Now I’m no Jaime Lannister, but I’d lost both the part of me that I was most well known for, and the portion that shielded me from the outside world, helping me towards the notion that there really is nothing to hide.

Well, after some ego stroking, I think that’s enough arrogance for the night.

So much for keeping things short


‘Til next time

Tris out


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