On Compassion and The Self: #1000Speak
It is Friday night, and I am stealing a few moments at the computer to write these words. I have spent all day doing the things I can only do on my day off from work; a laundry list of odds and ends that keep life going and keep the house moderately clean. Between cleaning up the remains of dinner and putting fresh sheets on the bed, I have chosen myself, for a few moments at least. Many nights last semester I stayed up, red pen in hand, churning through the bottomless stack of papers to grade. It felt like the second I triumphantly finished the last essay, another stack would…
Different Versions of Myself
Everyone has different versions of themselves. The me I was when I was a teenager – so rebellious and careless – doesn’t really exist anymore… …except parts of her are still me, resisting authority at all costs. The me I was at ten – so depressed and filled with worries beyond my years – also doesn’t exist anymore… …yet she still hides away in my innermost recesses, creeping out when it’s least convenient. The me I was at twenty – so optimistic and eager to please – also doesn’t exist anymore… …but she makes an appearance when I can’t let go of my unrealistic hopes. The me I was four…
