Time is subjective, but I find myself using it as a benchmark for most aspirations I hold close to me. From vision boards to failure museums, measuring ourselves on a linear timeline is fundamentally human because it is categorical. Without boundaries and categories, there is no room for contrast. Without contrast, our opinions lie dormant and hungover during dinner parties or holiday events. Despite the stress risk brings, we discover our strengths when faced with unprecedented challenges. Time may be a personal benchmark for goals and measuring “how far I’ve come” but I am learning how to understand myself apart from how much I can produce in 365 days.
What comes next is unknown, but finding the beauty in change is a journey we all learn to break through.
Recently, my old computer was infected by malware. I had fallen for the classic social engineering scheme. In a matter of seconds, my browser became a minefield pleading with me as “viruses” popped up in bold red letters. One virus morphed into several on multiple tabs, my computer screen swelling with neon lights and high-pitched alarms. Of course, I chose to run the "verified" scans and almost purchased a $500 antivirus package. Of course, I changed my passwords and reset my computer after consulting my parents, who displayed their disapproval through lengthy sighs. Yet again, their daughter is too naive, too abrupt when taking action.
Facing scare tactics don’t bring out my analytical skills. I was puzzling over my 2025 resolutions, attempting to figure out why I included "run a half marathon” when I don’t consider myself athletic. In fact, I chose to quit soccer because my coach took me aside and said I was about as coordinated as an elementary schooler playing tag. Facing change poses a greater challenge than fleeing the looming discomfort. Running brings a forward kind of escape. While I run, I am chasing new horizons.
Soft people hold soft scars, and I consider myself a soft person. We hold our memories close and become sentimental because whatever hasn’t happened yet is a new factor contributing towards a thought spiral (my blog’s namesake). Writing a 2024 reflection sounds monotonous to this soft person who cannot imagine sitting behind her laptop and sorting through moments she would rather forget. Perhaps this is why our hardest years crumble into the foundations of our personalities. To dig ourselves out, keep ourselves from sinking through concrete, we must forget. Whether we archive old memories or set them aside for days when our eyes are clearer, it is important to pivot and learn problem solving skills that branch off experiences.
I am hoping to elevate my blog and series posts in 2025. Next year, I aspire to forge new connections that explore the human experience as a cumulative yet nuanced perspective. Our minds are curious, adaptive, and are anticipating new beginnings. Connection is boundaryless, and that is what appeals to me the most. In 2025, I anticipate change.
We crave fresh starts, so I plan on delivering one. If – in the corners of an Internet-bound void – my posts reach a curious young person passionate about telling stories or advocacy, I would love to collaborate with them on a post. Our lives are constrained and move faster than the routines that buoy us forward in a reverse time lapse. I would hope to spend my time understanding a fraction more about our species, how we think, and how we form bonds with one another in anticipation of our varying emotions.
Email owlstaranshi@gmail.com with your interest. Write to express yourself through a medium where rambles are welcome. Write to abandon fear for a few precious hours when we can concentrate attention on spreading awareness. Publication is a byproduct of learning new skills and appreciating all that makes us human.
On another subject, I plan on introducing a new writing project in the coming months related to unfinished stories. Writers are expected to return to their cluttered thoughts and organize them into neat, complete pieces prepared for publication after multiple edits and reviews. With my next published work, I hope to bend what pieces are complete without a specific ending.
Until then, happy holidays -- and happy 2025.
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