Writing down and organizing my thoughts is never an easy process.
I’ve been trying mightily hard to digitize my thoughts from the sheltered confines of my mind onto the unbearably dreary laptop screen that my eyes are accented on. Come to think of it- freely expressing myself is something I’ve always had a tough time with. It’s as if my thoughts are firmly prisoned in my mind and any kind of attempt to let them out culminates in a hindering that renders them incoherent and muddled.
It’s upsetting because I feel as though some crude thoughts are awe-inspiring and oh so very magical, but I recognize how the disjointed words that come out of me can terribly degrade the meaning.
Last night, I spent a good chunk of time alone in my bedroom. Rotating my head from one edge of the window to the other, I gazed at the skylight of Amman in amazement. There was something different going on, but I couldn’t quiet get my head around what it was. The breeze was absolutely exceptional, the streets calm, and the light pollution seemingly more subtle. I opened the windows wide open, lifted the blinds all the way up, and in solitude tried to accurately take it all in. I peacefully enjoyed as the gentle Amman breeze encircled my face; it was therapeutic and euphoric. It was lovely. But I couldn’t fend off the feeling that I had to document it somehow; that it was too special of a moment to allow time to consign it to oblivion.
That’s when I hastily got up and attempted desperately to figure out how I would be best able to capture the moment authentically for future reflection.
This obsession with documenting my life started during the very beginning of my college years. The beginning of what was to become a transformative, inspirational, and most importantly, free, experience.
That time in my life propelled me into a state of awe and reflection that I had never before experienced. I remember vividly the many times I’d stare outside the floor-to-ceiling window on the 22nd floor in the Downtown Denver apartment that I so proudly called home for four years.
It was a wonderful change from the strict and oftentimes mislead adherence to the dictation of authority to unaffected critical thinking. While the stretched time I spent in solitude is what made those years so productive, the people I met along the way also had a tremendous impact on the trajectory of my life.
Journaling (in its many forms) has become a natural part of me, whether that is for the better or not. I am forevermore in obsessive search for wonders like those experienced in 2210, and whenever I get an inkling of similarity I go into journaling-mode, trying desperately to save the moment. It’s unfortunate that to everyone else my experience in 2210 seems like hyperbole brought about by severe nostalgia and confabulation.