Connected

For someone who can often openly describe himself as happily anti-social, it makes for the perfect foil when I find myself the loudest in the room, or leading a training session, or even craving social interaction.

At the same time, I tire of social settings as quickly as I adjust to them, when I thrust myself (or am thrust) into them.

For a long time, I felt bad wanting to be the first to leave, or wanting to leave “just when the parties getting started”, or wanting to eat my lunch alone, in a solitary crevice of the office. But it’s a recent area of change for me, the comfort in doing me. The comfort in knowing myself better than I ever have, and the strength to do what makes me happy and comfortable. Not in any sort of selfish way, by all means, if the occasion calls for it, I’ll suck it up, throw myself back into the midst of it all, and do what’s best in the situation.

So I guess the point of this musing is small and simple, and that is that it’s okay to not be what everybody wants you to be all of the time, but there is definitely value in allowing yourself to be in unfamiliar, uncomfortable, or just irregular situations. Sometimes it’s where we have the most fun. But we can do it with balance, knowing our limits, and being flexible.

Guise.

Pressure 

A moment and a glance or two,

In which way may it be true?

If nature simply specifies,

accordingly,

To recognise and justify.

Decisions and commitments,

Raging intuition,

If nothing more.

Know your path,

Prepare for detours,

Act with sense.

One must measure

The enormity of the journey

If one expects,

One assumes,

And one learns.

While the path,

Relentless,

Consumes.

Take control and grow. 


Guise. 

The Linguist 

His powers are the subtle kind, gifts of literary gold. Expressions splashed in ink across the old papyrus scrolls. 

Predetermined talent rushing through his veins, or skills with which he only gained how and when he trains. 

This superhero’s nemesis goes by writers block, the nasty and obtrusive villain who lives within the man. An everlasting battle for the right to share a mind, but battles are only temporary and fleeting all the time. 

A dedication to himself to fight for what is real, and break what is prescribed for all with letters sitting still. 

End goal unclear, but direction less so, our hero soldiers on, to find the answer to his own unfinished epic song. A sonet here, a theory there and words to fill a cabinet, he will not ever lock his gift, with this in stones, he’s set. 

Guise.