Restless is a word I'd use best to describe how life has been. I don't know if I think forming words can somehow bring more clarity, or if turning to writing can somehow make it all better. But I can try.

When I say "restless" I know it sounds like I'm becoming too busy; saying yes to too many tasks, or overworking myself to the point of insanity. Well, that's not entirely untrue, but unlike a college student, most of my unease doesn't feel physical at all. I can walk and sing and write stories just fine. I find time to read books, and I submit myself to sleep. Even though sleep doesn't help much when it's your soul that's tired.



Maybe it's that anxiety of only having around 48 days left of living in the city and the house that I've been in my whole life. I know; everyone gets through this, Jo. You're not the only person to start a new life outside of your comfort zone. Just relax. Besides, 48 days is still quite far away.

Is it, though? Should I be bothered knowing that I could still vividly remember the lunch I had with my mother 48 days ago? And how I'll still remember this day, just as vividly, when I'm sitting in the airplane up in the clouds somewhere, 48 days from now? Don't we often forget how fast time can go, always only realizing it a little too late? Aren't things always gone a little too soon?

One day, I woke up in the morning and spent minutes walking around the living room we never even touch. I lean against the wall and take note of every detail I can think of; worn out curtains, the desk lamp they moved to the corner, the grand piano no longer in use. Spider webs hanging at the back of my father's paintings. A candle holder set that doesn't match the rest of the room. 

My head desperately tries, these days, to find things to keep in store. Like an animal preparing for hibernation, it's storing memories like food for the winter. Is this all just a product of my imaginative, over-exploring thought process? Am I losing my mind? When we feel like we're losing our minds, does that mean we're right?

heavy traffic

Rainy days invite heavy traffic to my hometown, and it's unbearable to most of us. Really, what's the point of wiping the raindrops with our windshield to see clearly when our car hasn't even moved an inch for the past 30 minutes. I don't know if it's the weather, or the holiday season. Or if a large number of people has somehow decided to migrate to my city, all at once. 

But anyway, when my mind is left somewhat unoccupied, it looks for things to fidget with. It can be in traffic, or in rainy evenings, or the few minutes before I finally go to bed, I just always end up in a state of- contemplating.

Like, gee, do people fail, or succeed, without the existence of adrenaline? Do hummingbirds ever get tired? Why does my eyeliner always get so smudgy after a few hours? Do mystery writers have a life? Is it possible if we stop the production of Miss Universe pageants altogether and use the money to fund education for girls worldwide? Does Santa also deliver gifts to Africa? What does it take to make good poetry? Am I too cold to ever write a nice poem?

You know, simple questions.

self acceptance

If my life was a school and every life lesson was set in a curriculum, Self Acceptance would be my straight-C subject. The teacher I hated listening to, the class I hated to sit in. "Love yourself! Accept your flaws! You are wonderful just the way you are!" A student placed in the middle of the classroom, simply sighs and rolls her eyes. And that student would be me.

It's come to my attention, today specifically, how often I see myself as "too much" of something. I'm too sensitive, too lazy, too unmotivated, too irrelevant, and my my, the list goes on. The fact that I can be too hard on myself most of the time is really no secret, but I don't sulk in it either. 

Like I said, I'm the student that sighs and rolls her eyes, and continues to sketch flowers onto her notebook because my God, she'd rather be anywhere else. Truth is, I can't always agree with the notion that "we are wonderful the way we are." Created perfectly in the likeness of His image, as people of my faith would remind me, but despite that, if I'm being honest, I definitely do not always feel so "wonderful."

The downside to being so demanding of yourself, while also attempting to give others your best, is that you put so many expectations on your abilities in the first place that when others place even the slightest expectation on you, you feel absolutely overwhelmed already. It's not a fun process. It's not always so great being the perfectionist that constantly sees themselves as inadequate. But hey, I'm trying what I can. That's as "wonderful" as it gets.


Someone once said that it's both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply. As a newly-converted INFJ, it often feels like I now carry the weight of the world on my shoulders; a burden I never wished for, but couldn't let go of. Like when we never intend to hurt people's feelings but always end up doing so unintentionally. Like when we try to let our feelings guide us towards becoming a better person, yet always failing to execute. Experiencing the pain of your best friend like it's firsthand, or feeling a mother's cry before she lets it out. A blessing and a curse. I'd say so, indeed.

Restless is a word I'd use best to describe how I have been. I struggle to read books for too long; I can't go an hour without my mind wandering elsewhere. My prayers sound like badly translated telegrams; I pray for sick relatives and better days but my mouth would often fumble for words. If we look at our world, it seems like there's never enough time to pray for everything that's going on. A new scandal surfaces as you pray for hope in humanity, a new shooting takes place before you say another "Amen". I wonder what God wants us to do at times where we feel most powerless.

At this point, my writing will have already sounded very long-winded and incoherent. Partly I think it's because I've been restricting myself to only writing things that are really good or really important or include really nice pictures, and I've kind of forgotten what it felt like to write for therapy. Letting words pour out from that stream of consciousness and thought, and not filtering so much of what I want to express. To hell with the fear of oversharing, I really just want to write.

Many have urged me to write about politics, or the latest news, or simply for me to offer a glimpse of what's inside my thoughts again. As much as I'd like to, it's still very hard to create anything worthwhile when we feel so uninspired. I'm not always so bubbly, speaking truth in a firm, confident manner. My thoughts aren't always maps with clear directions. If people wish to hear about my thought process, well here it is. More often messy than it is well-worded.


Lastly, friends, I hope you may excuse this tiny mid-week rambling session that's just taken place. I don't know if I think forming words can somehow bring more clarity, or if writing can somehow make it all better. I don't know if these small pieces of thought would mean anything to anyone. I don't know if my words can change the world, or change a heart, but it is more or less the same thing to me. I don't know if any of my random musings resonated with you in any way, but if it did, even just a little bit, then my friend, to me, that means everything already.

So I guess all that's left to say is- Happy Wednesday. Sleep well, take photos, allow yourself to feel, and it's okay to end a long night by watching funny 90s sitcoms. Become as much of yourself as you can, for that alone is a luxury, and smile at strangers even when they don't return it.

For whatever sense this made, may you have a lovely week.

I'll write again soon.

(text written in roughly 3 hours, finished at 1:49 AM, December 6th 2017)