May 16
Be who God meant you to be, and you will set the world on fire.
May 11
It’s never too late to be what you might have been.
Feb 15
While lying in bed last night, I thought of my grandmother.
I haven’t thought of her in a long time. The last time I saw her was when she stayed with us one Christmas, and we hadn’t seen her before that in years. We went to her funeral the following February, I think.
We were mostly expecting it— she was very sick. She was a smoker and had already survived through lung cancer, but this time it had gotten into her brain. I remember being pretty shocked at how frail she looked when I saw her again after all of those years. But that’s not what I thought about last night.
When she came, we showed her around our new house. We were standing in what my sister and I would have called the “playroom” when we were kids: the extra room next to our bedroom that had our desks and our books and all of our art supplies— the room where we did anything creative. Grandma was looking around, and what she said next was spoken in a clearer voice than anything she’d said thus far:
“When I retired, I wanted to take up painting again. But then I got sick. Now my hands shake so much I can’t do it anymore.”
And I remember feeling a little frightened.
I can’t say my grandmother wasted her life not following her dreams, because the truth is, I don’t really know. I was told she was hurting, and she probably made some bad decisions. But what I will always remember about her is that she was an artist. I remember her showing pieces she’d done to me and my sister— she was much of the reason that we were inspired to stick with drawing, which is something neither of us have been able to give up. I know that Grandma took classes. And I remember looking through her things after her funeral and realizing that maybe she wasn’t as talented as I used to think she was. But I’m pretty sure she pursued it, at least tried it even if she didn’t “succeed.”
So I thought of her last night. And I thought of my sister, who’s chasing a dream right now, and it literally brings tears to my eyes how proud I am of her. And I look around my apartment here on the other side of the world and think that at least I chased something, and maybe I’ll be brave enough when I get home to pursue some sort of passion, to find and catch a dream even if I’m not owning one right now.
Because I’m more afraid of waiting until my hands are shaking, and I can’t do it anymore.
…
Most importantly, though, I want to remember that everything’s going to be okay. I like imagining that my grandmother is in heaven right now, painting the stars.
Thank you, Grandma.
Nov 29
Not an exciting video, but I took it myself!
Nov 27
Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance.
Nov 23
“I no longer want these emotions!”
Star Trek: Generations is an oddly personal movie for me.
We’ll stick with Data, though the rest of the movie is wonderful too, in my opinion, for many reasons. But let’s be honest, who of us hasn’t at one point felt fed up with our emotions? It sucks to have regrets. It hurts when we can’t seem to stop dwelling on all of the stupid things we’ve done.
