In The Car.

She's been at it for almost half an hour now. Talking about the randomest, most insignificant things. 

It's not like this is anything new. When my brother isn't in the car, Mom's the only one making some noise. If nothing, she's playing songs, or commenting on 'what an idiot that person is in front of us, doesn't even know how to keep in the lane.'

Dad and I are sitting quietly, listening. I can't see my father's expression. He's a Pisces, I'm an Aquarius. We decided a long time ago that that was the reason for us being more silent compared to my talkative Taurus mother and brother.

She pauses to catch her breath. Suddenly, it's silent as a grave in the car.

"Oh, my God. How do you two manage to go on a road trip when I'm not around????" she exclaims in mock incredulity.

"We don't," says my father.

Now she's silent. She's always had this notion about me and Dad not liking unnecessary sounds or their sources. I don't. But, you know, she's an exception.

And now I realized she's an exception for Dad too.

He squeezed her hand and smiled warmly at her. I couldn't stop grinning.

Stagnant Pools: An Emo? Personification

On December 19th, 2010, while sorting out some of my stuff, I came across a journal that had been part of an English Language assignment, in 2009. I flipped it open, eager to delve into my past.

Oddly enough, the last entry in the journal was dated December 19th, 2009. Exactly a year.

Apparently, I'd been sitting at a bench in the club lawn that night, listening to Winter by Tori Amos. I'd been rambling that night, trying to organize my thoughts. I'd been wondering about my past, trying to figure out how I'd changed. Trying to define myself.

Suddenly, I realized that an entire year of happenings later, here I was, doing the same thing. Worrying about myself and my life and my future and how I'd changed. Like a stagnant, constant pool of water.

The next question that struck my mind was: is stagnancy a good thing? 

And hence, so-called pragmatic me began weighing out the options. Metaphorically, of course.

Here are the major points I scribbled down.:

-Stagnant pools are constant and steady.

-You can see your reflection in them.

-Light doesn't shimmer on a stagnant pool the way it does in a moving, erratic body of water.

-Stagnant pools are the perfect breeding grounds for all sorts of pests.

-Fish and plants can't survive in them.

I was reeling.

So it all came down to this. In one year, despite everything I'd physically accomplished, I had not matured. At. All. Nada. Zero. Zip. Zilch. I could go on with one word sentences forever.

I remain a stagnant pool. I show people their reflection--giving them an insight into their personality, helping them out with their lives--and sometimes, modifying my own image to accommodate theirs. I breed useless pests of thoughts and worries, thus killing any and every beautiful creature of my imagination that may dwell within my soul. I do not reflect the sun's rays in a glittering array of rainbows. I do not shine. I am just there. Present. Ready. But not changing.

That bites. It really does. I don't like being constant. I want to change, damn it! That's why I went through the trouble of enduring all that crap I went through the past year! To frickin' learn something!

But why am I not growing? Why am I seemingly stuck in this menacing rut that I don't even realize is taking me nowhere?

And then it dawned on me.
I think too much.

Over time, one of the things I've understood about the peculiarities of nature is that everything hits you when you least expect it.
And I've been expecting way, wayyyy too much. From myself, that is.

So, I've decided. No more thinking sessions. No more expectations. No more worrying. From now on, I'm gonna dive straight in and do whatever the hell I have to do but don't want to do.

I understand now, that that is how I shall mature. And here I take my first hasty decision free of second thoughts.

Buss.