Why yes, it has been over a month since I’ve posted something on here. Why, you ask? I’ve got five words for you:
End of the semester madness.
Understand now? Good.
But, now that the semester is officially OVER (insert hallelujah chorus), I actually have some spare time to do stuff that I like to do. Like…blogging! So now, the only question is, what to blog about?
Well, my usual game plan is to write about something that I’m experiencing at the moment, or have recently learned a lesson about, or has inspired me in some way. And if you mix all three of those things together and apply it to my life right now, one thing keeps popping into my mind.
Figuring out just who I am and what I want to do.
I know, vague. But allow me to explain myself a little bit. You see, over the past year or so, and especially during these past couple months, my whole perception of myself has been slowly shifting. Now, I’m not talking personality, or looks, or faith, or anything like that. Those haven’t really changed (except the looks…I now have bangs, folks. Like, Taylor Swift bangs). What I’m talking about is more along the lines of where I see myself going…what direction I’m headed.
Now, before you think I’m about to bore you with my life story…don’t. Because my goal is not to bore you, and telling you my life story would probably do just that. I’m just gonna share a little info here and there, and hopefully give you something you actually find interesting and useful. Okay? So stick with me.
You remember my post from…oh, like….2 months ago? That really long one called “Waiting in the Hallway”? Well, consider this post an extension from that one (aka, if you didn’t read that one…maybe you should). You know how I said I’ve been waiting for God to show me the path I should take (hence, the waiting in the hallway), and that whole analogy of the many doors before me and which one I should take? Well, folks…I’m starting to hear some of the locks on those doors click open. And all of a sudden, I’m beginning to realize that this particular period of waiting might soon be over…and pretty soon it’s going to turn into a period of decision-making.
Exciting? Yes. Scary? A little bit. A blessing? Definitely.
But allow me to get into the why you would care of all this. There is one thing that I’ve learned from this whole thing already, before I’ve even had to make any decisions. Perhaps found is a better word to use than learned.
I’ve found my voice.
As you can probably guess, I’m not talking about my literal, coming-out-of-my-throat voice. I haven’t lost that for quite a while and am still annoyed with the sound of it, as always. I’m talking about my metaphorical, felt-not-heard, figuratively-speaking voice–that part of all of us that keeps us looking for the right way to allow it to be heard, to express who we are. The channel that is chosen differs from person to person, of course. And sometimes it even differs over time. For some it might be music. For others, dancing. For others, acting or painting or serving or simply living a certain way. And for still some others, there is the actual act of speaking, in the literal sense. A person can find their voice in just about anything, really. As for me, I’ve found mine in a place that I never in a million years expected it to be.
You guessed it: writing.
That’s right. I never knew just how wonderful the art of putting words together on paper (or computer screen) to get a message across could be for me. Probably because I never gave it a shot before. I have, quite frankly, stumbled upon something that I have been looking for for quite some time now. And you know how that happened?
I tried something new.
I tried something that I had previously thought I would never want to do. I mean–if I’m being honest–when I was in high school, if you would have asked me the top 5 things that I would never do for fun, I probably would have mentioned writing somewhere in there. I’d do it for school to get a good grade, but that was it. At the time, I equated writing with regurgitating information and facts about some dead poet or author that I didn’t really care much about to my English teacher in the form of an essay (as you can see, my scope of the whole art of writing was pretty limited).
But lo and behold, about a year ago, I had a single moment of pure curiosity and courage to try something that I had never attempted before–something I thought I hated–and before I knew it, I was hooked. I had stumbled upon my voice.
Let’s have another little cultural lesson, shall we? And while we’re at it, let’s throw in a metaphor. Who knows what the term ethnocentric means? According to my lovely dictionary source (Bing), a definition for ethnocentric is: a belief in or assumption of the superiority of the social or cultural group that a person belongs to.
We’re all a little ethnocentric at times, whether we are willing to admit it or not. We all believe at some point that the way we do something is the best way it can be done. And I’m a believer that this happens most often when it’s in regards to something that we’ve never tried to do any other way. Now, get ready–here’s where the metaphor comes in.
I was under the impression for most of my life that what I was already doing and had always been doing was the best thing for me to continue doing. I wasn’t one to step out of my comfort zone much. I knew what I liked, I knew some things that I didn’t like, and I wasn’t very willing to try some things that I had never done before in order to find out whether I liked them or not. Aka, I was–in my opinion, anyway–boring.
Thankfully, things changed once I got to college. Long story short, I had a “finding myself” moment, made a couple big decisions, mustered up a little self-confidence and courage, and told myself that I was going to try my hardest to live my life in a “no regrets” kind of way. I hit a few dead ends in the process, but at least I tried. And so far, no regrets.
The most important part of my little sparknotes of a life story is this: even though I hit a few dead ends, even though I tried to open a few of those doors in the hallway only to find that they were locked, I didn’t stand there and kick and scream and try to do a body-to-door-slam to get them open (think Paul Blart: Mall Cop). I moved on to another door that I hadn’t tried yet. And before I knew it, I found one that budged.
If you’re not happy with where you are or what you’re doing, try stepping into the hallway and trying another door. And if you can’t seem to open the ones that you thought would be the right choice for you, try one that you’ve never tried before, even if you think it’s one you wouldn’t want to step into. If it’s not right for you, it won’t open. But if it is, you just might step into a place that you never knew could make you so happy–a place where you might find something you’ve been looking for in all the wrong places.
You just might stumble upon your voice.
And stumbling upon it in the place you least expected to find it…well, take it from me–that’s a pretty cool way to find it. Because before you know it, you could be a former writing-hater who has her own blog and is writing a book.
How’s that for unexpected?
At least I’m not boring anymore (in my opinion, anyway). And really, that’s all that matters. Because who wants to bore herself to death? (quite literally)
No one.
So…moral of the story: don’t be metaphorically ethnocentric.
(and you thought metaphors only applied to English class)
Brianna Lee Kauffman 