Category Archives: thoughts
*please note all links contained within are to supporting documents of statements made*
It is impossible to turn on the news without hearing some absurd happening within communities of these united states. Trivial things turned vicious, ignorance turned deadly, and tolerance turned intolerant. The number of stories have increased tremendously especially over the last 8 months. It seems as if there is something America has forgotten. A phrase, saying, and steadfast pillar of peace and tolerance; practice what you preach, treat others how you want to be treated, turn the cheek, or even bite the bullet. The amount of specific examples where this phrase or collection of phrases could have been used to promote peace is astounding. Following are a few examples.
In 2011 Florida state highway trooper Donna Watts arrested a Miami police officer who while driving a marked police car led her on a high-speed pursuit for over four minutes with speeds topping 120 mph on the highway. After the arraignment and judicial procedures the arrested officer lost his job. Though he broke the law, other law enforcement officers from 25 different agencies searched police archives (privileged information) to find her address and contact information in order to harass her.
If the other police men and women took a second and said, “practice what you preach,” they would have found no need to try and intimidate an officer who was actually doing what they are all sworn in to do. Maturity would have allowed this phrase to enter their minds before they reacted blindly. It also should have stood as a testament to the fact that they are not above the law. Of course there are many other current situations where this applies to the cops as well, so please, officers start asking yourself if you are practicing what you preach.
LGBT community and supporters
We all know the fight for equality has been difficult but has seen some amazing steps forward with the repeal of DOMA and Prop8, along with the repeal of don’t ask don’t tell. The past few years have been great, there is still, however, a very real struggle underway. In some places the fight is going backward. Let’s think Memories Pizza in Indiana. They refused to make pizza for a gay wedding. It is their constitutional and living right to choose who they serve. If they decide they want nothing to do with it, try some other business, or think of some other cuisine. The backlash created for this family run business is sickening. If we allowed the phrase, “treat people the way you want to be treated,” to run through our minds this wouldn’t have happened.
No we don’t want to be looked down upon, or berated for who we are, so why would we do that to someone else. Just because their beliefs don’t align with what the rest of the world is trending toward doesn’t give us, the same people who only recently have made some serious milestones, the right to tear their business to shreds.
Those screaming RACISM!
It will be a very dark page in the history books when the stories of Ferguson, Garner, and many more hit them. It is a time in America when we can say that unfortunately racism still exists. It is with all of my heart that we can get this to go away, but it won’t if the reactions continue to be less than appealing. There is no need to shoot and kill an innocent officer because of the color of his skin. There is no need to attack and refer to all police as killers. If it weren’t for the police force we would be in a world that stinks way worse than it does right now. So even in these rough times, when it seems there is new evidence being turned out about some other wrong doing every single day, we should be asking ourselves, can we “treat others the way we want to be treated?” Racism exists, yes, but we need to be able to come together and live life devoid of the ignorance that creates the terrible idea called racism. You may never know when you meet someone that’s racist, but as long as you hold true to yourself and let your light shine, you may never know who you converted away from it either.
I don’t know your story, nor will I ever, but the color of ones skin doesn’t equal the caliber of human you may perceive them to be. In a clear, unaltered news story that recently came up a few Florida police officers were fired because of the slanderous way they talked about black people. Sure it can be easy to lump individuals together by a common feature, but you are doing yourself one of the worst injustices you can. Don’t be narrow minded and allow yourself to think, “treat others the way I want to be treated.” Who cares what your thoughts are or what you think of people. Do the most human thing and think for a second and treat everyone the way you would want to be treated. It is, after all, ignorance which breeds intolerance.
The Unyielding Religious
It doesn’t matter what religion you are, most religions preach peace and love. Yes there are certain abominations, but it is also up to God, Allah, or whatever god you pray to, to judge those in abomination. So keep that in mind when you want to judge someone for the way they are. Recently a lawyer in California, who claims to be Christian, posed a ballot that encourages homosexuals be punished by a “bullet to the head.” This is an extreme case, but in every day life you will run into someone who’s views or life you don’t agree with. It is already stated in the bible that you aren’t to judge anyone, but leave that for God. So why can’t you say to yourself a phrase taken from your book, the golden rule, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Matthew 7:12)
To Those crying No Immigration!
Recently President Obama went out of his way to pass a law that would allow illegal aliens to gain citizenship in the United States. This was a double edged sword. If the people didn’t meet all the criteria chances are they could be deported back to their country. Some of you reading this may be happy about that, but I ask you, where did you descend from? In 2013 only about 2% of Americans were native, which means your family came from somewhere else. We are constantly flooded with reports on how immigrants get a free ride, let me tell you this is false. Understandably there is concern about foreign criminals and such reaching our soil and staying, but the government has many practices in place to limit that from happening. So think about those families who want to come here and are willing to take the jobs you don’t want, along with another, just to make ends meat and support a family away from said criminal and brutal activity. Practice what you preach. If it weren’t for immigrants chances are you wouldn’t be here.
There are many groups that weren’t touched on here but the point of the essay is to increase the internal dialogue of everyone. This is America, home of the free. Of course there will people that don’t agree on one topic, life, religion, or creed. That’s the point. Take that and realize we are merging into a new era, a new generation, and the last thing we need to be guilty of is creating a hostile environment for our young ones, let alone our neighbors and ourselves. We are united with the respect of each living person, glorified in the knowing that we can live harmoniously together.
There will be times when the simple phrase, treat others as you would like to be treated, will go to the way side especially when someone threatens what we all stand for. An enemy of our rights. A true threat to the freedom that we have to be able to argue about such values. But when it comes to person to person, neighbor to neighbor, community to community we must stand united with a respect to each human to have their own thoughts, beliefs, life, and religion. This is America. These are our fundamental truths that we must not let pass.
May God Bless America!
Caleb A. Mertz
How’s life? A bar patron asks the manager at the restaurant I occupy. He smiles and goes off on a tale about the Padres. The guests smile and they begin to talk, I drift with a perfect beginning to my post.
Life is good. With the past few months of laxed writing practices, I am happy to say that I’m back! Not just back, but better than ever. In previous posts, in particular On a very different path, I take you along my road to recovery after a break-up… Welp, here I am, sitting in a restaurant while my boyfriend is in dance class.
My boyfriend, my FOUND inspiration, my new beginning. A life that, since he’s been in, has been utter bliss. I would tell u the story of how I knew one day I’d be speaking spanish, but that’d only bore you. Who cares about the young man feeling envious of the secret code being spoken around him? Desperate to break the barrier and understand what was being said, thus using bi-lingual packets to begin his learning. Who cares?
Now, I sit. I look around the restaurant. Only one other couple occupies the bar, but many have gathered to watch the fight between the Dodgers and the Padres. It is San Diego, after all. My Miller Lite is extremely lite, just as my wallet.
I present the only card that may be able to cover the price of two beers. If I succeed, I’ll have another and pay cash. If not, well, I have enough to cover and a nice tip as well.
I can’t help it! I think back to him. His smile, laugh, everything.
“¿Como estas?” A young couple asks, walking to the bar.
I know that: How are you?
Now the conversation goes a bit further. I understand! Not everything, but all things in steps right!?
It’s now within my scope to translate my best selling book, “With Thoughts of Jason” into Spanish. Why not broaden the scope of people that might be able to enjoy a book taken from my heart and soul?
My boyfriend is Mexican, and with that comes a sleu of, ahem, thoughts…yeah, thoughts. You see, my sister married a man from México, and well, he’s done some damage. So now, even with my boyfriend in the room with me, my mom doesn’t seem to accept that i’m dating a Mexican.
“Mom,” I say, “he’s my boyfriend, not just a friend,” I realize it might take her some time, well untill she’d meet him. At that point i know she’d fall for him as quickly as I have.
Well hey. Just wanted to give u all a heads up. I feel like life is taking a turn for something amazing, if u believe so as well be sure to like or follow my blog! I can’t wait to share more exciting things when it comes to writing, or stupid updates on the life that’s wielding my writing.
Caleb A. Mertz
The cold. Wind rushes through the leaves. My skin retracts, muscles convulse. The exhale of a cigarette escapes my mouth and rushes away from me. Smoke, gathers and writhes, billows, yet dissipates. A thought.
A thought that takes me from such treacherous cold; meaning, place, part of the plethoral consciousness.
The cigarette, I again, unwisely, place to my lips to take a drag. The ashes redden, smoke swirls and dances against the influence of the wind, my lungs fill with toxins. I pause. Nicotine infects my blood cells flowing false euphoria to my brain, and yet I still ponder the thought.
Meaning… What do I mean? There is no measure. I can only measure meaning by self importance, so what does it mean? Does it matter?
The cigarette ashes flick into the brass chalice with ease, yet the wind catches them to take them away. Not willingly, but taken by force. Quickly the cigarette is again raised to my mouth. I hesitate a moment, as I look five feet from me to the dark gray slate roof, with what was once a white gutter. The orange stucco impedes upon my memory as I now take yet another drag, smoke hugging my fingers as I shiver once more.
Place… Where am I? Not in position to my physical whereabouts, but more, my mind. The chill exhilarates me, causing me to stand now in the corner where the bitter claws may not reach me.
Something within stirs. It has been, yet I try not to notice. I notice, but I fear. I fear, but I’m strong. I’m strong, yet I fear the weakness it may present. Weakness, and knowing its whereabouts builds strength. Strength I need to overcome such fear. Fear, I have no affinity with.
Plethoral consciousness – a phrase of my own construction. The combination of all human and non-human thoughts, energies, and will. Where? Or shall I ask, what part do I play? Am I one that will rise above? Or the balance to allow others to succeed?
The cigarette is nearly done, and has been resting in my hand atop the railing along my balcony. The brisk cold scratches my face. The thought. Why would I think it? I guess we all must. We have to, at one time or another, question where we stand. Whether it’s dramatic or simply pondering. For the cigarette, it was time to end. The red-hot ashes explode as I plunge it quickly into the chalice. I smile at the cold, as I open the door to find my warmth, and answer to the moment.
Writing a fiction book is not entirely the scenarios and landscapes that play out in my minds eye. There is a lengthy amount of research that one has to do to effectively convey the true feeling and effect of the writing. My research has mainly focused on some of the terrifying factors directly related to conspiracy theorists and end times enthusiasts; opening my eyes to a few scary youtube clips and essays on the internet. While in my search for more information I can’t help but to be drawn in to hours of watching videos and clicking on every link that takes me to some sort of new revelation.
One of the final chapters of my book involves the rapture that the government tries to state is actually an alien attack. I turn to youtube and begin watching clips of UFO’s, which shows how much these things have changed recently. Clearer images appear, and beautiful cloud trails flow out from them producing an amazing display in the sky. Spiraling blue smoke lights the night sky only to disappear into what looks like a self induced black hole. Then possibly the oddest of them all, which spurred two hours of looking into this one alone, is a light that drops over the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. It hovers over the Temple for a few seconds before lighting up the entire mount and shooting off to the actual UFO above, which is at first a triangle that then turns on end and eventually flies away. What’s odd about this is some people are speculating the significance of such a holy place having a light come down from the heavens at the same place many other visits from “God” had happened. Yet lo and behold, someone who claims this to be an elaborate hoax on the governments part in the form of Project Blue Beam.
Searching a bit further I come to find out about this government hoax of massive proportions. Project Blue Beam is the ability of the government or well, the New World Order, to project holograms across the entire world through the use of satellites, chem trails, and extremely low frequency radio waves to induce the belief that “god” is talking with you. In a nut shell they produce a fake alien abduction and rapture, then an alien invasion, then produce the “one-true” god. Through cinema style effects this “god” would rain down fire and conjure things and perform other mysteries.
Getting wierded out yet? Not that I necessarily believe all of this, but it’s enough to make my hair stand on end, especially seeing how far holograms have come (think Tupac at Coachella this year). Just to keep moving forward with this I turn to a religious site called abbaswatchmen.com it was with this site I learn of these trumpet like noises coming from the sky. I can’t stop clicking on link after link to hear the array of noises from anything like a trumpet to godzilla to the alien ships in the recent “War of the Worlds” movie. Now that freaks me out, especially because they have only been noted starting in January 2012. Some call it mother Earth groaning, others say its the cosmos aligning, while others call it Project Blue Beam and part of it’s elaborate hoax in testing.
While there are so many things out there that can always freak us out, I chose to stop for the week I had been researching these things. I believe I have plenty of material to spin off of, but I did want to share the odd things I had found on my research for THE UNEXPECTED, especially since it is an End Times thriller, brrr.
Thanks for reading!
Caleb A. Mertz
This is my first post using the app on my blackberry. Probably not the best idea ever, but I’ll never know if I never try. As it turns out the starbucks I sit outside of is currently outletless as some business men talk quietly in the corner, cords stretched across the door. A hindu family sits near the front door scolding their children softly that are trying to eat the fake display artisan food. The overly handsome barista just had an awkward conversation with me in my attempts not to appear socially awkward. I’m sure I sounded like a stalker.
“How is your day going?” He kindly asks over the frothing noise the espresso machine makes to pump out my quad caramel machiatto .
“Great…” I begin, as would be the usual response, but leave it to me to take it further. I mean he is handsome right? “Golly,” I might well have started with a glint in my eye, southern accent drawling, eyes shifting to the back door then the employee schedule. “What time do you usually have to come in?” I slightly lean forward, hunching my back, closing one eye and scrunching my face; furthering my cause.
He looks up at me, when I realize how much I adore his eyes. Really? Maybe I titled this post wrong. Maybe it should be: Caleb’s likliness to that of a creeper, or fantastical fascination with the frappuccino guy, either way there’s a story here. So his eyes are the kind that have an aura of their own, almost golden circles envelop the hazel eyes, and the darkness of the pupil that peers into my homosexuality (aka gaydar!) His hair, short, tidy, and black knows about me too. The stubble on his face gives him just enough scruff to holler ‘I’m a man!’ Though scant enough to show the young features that shape the face and lil dimple chin.
He fills me in on his in-time rather un-altered by the completely off the wall question. Well it wasn’t really. I am not usually up this early, today I am because the apartment complex where I currently, well, usually reside is being fumigated for bedbugs! Ick!
Needless to say, I go on to further humiliate myself with admitting to my usual laziness, “I don’t know how you can do it. I’m not usually up anything before ten!” I should have added a bunch of likes for a valley girl tone, then blinked my eyes a few hundred times in a matter of a few seconds.
“Ah, you get into a routine of it,” he says. No duh! Ugh! I’m so stupid. Though he smiles, I think it was a smile that revealed a scar on his right cheek; hmm…mystery and intrigue. Ugh! Love him already! Oh, yeah. What am I doing now? Sitting out front, where I know he can see me laughing to myself picturing what I must have sounded like.
So on with the real reason for this post: killing pests and spawning new creative efforts. My apartment is being fumigated for the next three days. Oh yeah! Bed bugs! How delicious! The exterminator asks,”have you noticed any rashes, bumps, or even blood on the sheets?” Ew! Blood on the sheets? What kind of bugs are these? Ravenous creatures waiting for the warmth of my body to hit the mattress to crawl out by the thousands out of every crevice in attempts to devour my flesh in one evening? A type of evolved scarab beetle? I imagine waking up in a pool of blood, covered by pumpkin seed looking little pricks with heads like ticks, and pincers like a spider’s…ew!
So with the news that I actually don’t have them but five of the other units do, I can sleep at night without the aid of alcohol or nyquil. They’re still tenting the place to kill the little suckers, after two failed heat treatment attempts. For three days I will be staying at a place in old town with nothing to do except work and read, and what’s that? Write? Wahoo! Oh wait, it’s a cheap hotel…without wireless! What! What hotel doesn’t have wireless! Oh wait, they do, however, I’m too far from the “G” router they have in the office! What a jip, McDonalds here I come; especially since I can’t seem to find a good outlet at the starbucks where the handsome, halo-eyed, cappuccino foam-maker works. Then again, I could drive twenty minutes out of my way, again…wait, Jesus! Here goes that creeper thing again. (it’s all in good fun, by the way)
Anyway, I have finished John Irving’s depressing novel The Hotel New Hampshire and feel like working on refining my voice and sentence structure. I also just signed with examiner.com to be an affiliate and sourced writer for cbs.com. It’d involve real topics, real deadlines, and most of all real, tangible money!
Alright. Well this has been fun. I’m out of my macchiatto, and have to pee, and would love to strike up another embarrassing conversation with mr. Halo-eyes, without caffeinating myself to anxiety, so maybe a chai tea? Ugh! It’s so gay, but soo good!
Thanks for reading! Muah!
Caleb A. Mertz
I looked around the room and took in the beautiful woodwork. Cherry or Mahogany made the television stand, dresser, and doorway. A smell lingered that took me a second to identify. It was cigarette smoke; stale cigarette smoke. Plenty of pillows supported my head and lay around my bed, each having had a part as cuddling buddy through the night. I lay in bed a second longer remembering the night prior. Looking over to the next bed Mary lay motionless, still out from the alcohol induced coma. I didn’t precisely feel one hundred percent myself but thought of the Starbucks I had seen just off the casino floor.
Rousing myself, I stood; put my hoodie and hat on, then proceeded out of the room and downstairs for a caramel macchiato! The last thing I truly wanted to do at that time was stand in line, yet that’s what I committed to when I decided Starbucks was the answer for me. Returning to the room after the twenty minute wait and several dodged conversation starters, Mary was alive and staring at the ceiling. It was a good thing she woke herself up, now we could begin packing so we’d be out by the appropriate time.
People looked at me in perplexity as I walked past with my bike in tow. I guess it’s not everyday someone walks through the casino floor with their bike. Walking out of the doors to the parking lot; I was able to see the tall palm trees and the jagged tops of the desert mountains. It was moments like this that brought me back to what was really happening. I’m moving across the country; to a place I’ve never been, to a job I don’t have, and a place to live that doesn’t exist yet. They were scary thoughts. I put the travel bags into their tight spaces before putting my bike on the rack. Almost there, I thought more, tonight we will be in San Diego, my new home. It was a nice thought. Though I didn’t know where I was going once we got there, I knew it was going to be good.
Caught in the grasp of my dreamy thoughts, I hadn’t paid too much attention to what Mary was doing. Then I caught site of her droned out and staring that the tires of the car next to us. She sat out of the passenger seat with door open and a look of disgust about her face. “Mary, are you gonna put your bag away?”
“I’m jus gon hold it.” She responded rubbing her face with her hands. Her haphazardly done hair bobbed and moved oddly. The parts she managed to include in the hair tie slowly slipped from the weak grasp. She was a mess!
“Do you wanna grab something to eat? I’m getting the sense you’re hung over.” I declared setting the last bag into the cramped back seat. That messy mess of a hair bob bobbed, confirming she wanted to eat. I rounded to her side to put her bag away so she wouldn’t be stuck carrying it the whole last part of the trip.
“Wait!” She proclaimed quickly. In the sun the bags under her eyes shown shiny and dark. The tops of her eyes looked like she just painfully tried plucking both her eyebrows off. She then pointed to a bag she had neatly placed near the drivers door of the car next to us. It was at the exact location for the next placement of my right foot had I continued to walk toward her. Within the bag was a beautiful collection of something that looked like fruit cobbler mixed with stomach bile.
“Ew! Mary!” I was so grossed out. She laughed a little.
“What? You didn’t even hear it, right?” She asked like this was one of her life’s accomplishments.
“No, but throw that shit away!” I had to get to the other side of the car. I changed my mind. She could hold her bag or put it away herself but only after throwing away her spewed dinner. I am not sure where she put it, but she made a few grunting noises when she returned and tried forcing her bag into the back seat. Finally making it work she then rolled into her seat and looked at me. I was afraid to look. If she had anything running down her chin I might just spill some unwanted things into a bag of my own.
Avoiding looking at her and getting the car in gear to go, I had to make sure it was out of her system. “You’re not gonna throw up again, are you?”
“Do you have some gum?” She asked. I pulled the pack from the door compartment and handed it to her, without looking.
“You’re not gonna throw up again are you?” I had to ask again. Without waiting for a response I began to drive. I needed anything not to look at her just yet.
“Okay let’s grab some…” Then it happened. I couldn’t believe it. Spattering across the window, dash and hitting my face…
“Let’s stop at McDonalds and get a burger to soak up some of that alcohol.” I began as she googled the closest one. We drove down the strip and looked at all of the well known casino’s . We watch as a man jumps from the stratosphere tower with only a rope keeping him from hitting the grown. I’m thinking bungee jump so when he doesn’t fly back up once he got close to the ground I began looking for the snapped line. Then at a red light a man dressed like a hobo clown, signs hanging all over him, rides past the front of my car and squeals to a halt just to the right. He honks his horn on the bike which makes an appropriate sound for a clown. As we’re watching and smiling at this funny display he rears back and begins screaming at the cars. He sounded so angry and pointed at everyone at this light.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter and looked to the traffic signal. I wanted out! This guy was scaring me. Mary, thinking along the same lines already locked her door and had the window rolled up. He continued to yell frantically at the cars by us when I saw the slightest hint of green and sped off to the next intersection.
“That fucking clown!” Mary had a sobering moment there, “no wonder Krystal’s afraid of them! Shit!” I had to laugh at this point. We were out of any danger, if there even was any, and Mary had the best face when she was freaked out.
It was time to get on the highway and make our way to the Hoover Dam. Highways, ugh, I guess when you spend so much time on them there can be little left of any thought of anything but the Highway. We just continued to drive. For the second known time in the trip I went off the street signs rather than the GPS lady who had an annoying way of talking anyway. Passing the hoover dam without seeing it we drove a good twenty minutes past before I decided to listen to Mary and turn around. However, this was the spot where I took my favorite picture of the entire trip. The picture that I felt held the most perception into it. My car, bike on the back, Pennsylvania license plate, and vast desert spanning the width of the picture. The vast dessert expressing the opening of experiences that I will encounter and the beauty that could befall me from them. The road, a journey. A journey to a place that I didn’t know; a land far from my comfort, my home, Pennsylvania. And the mountain bike to give me wheels to succeed past any sort of mountain that might rise in front of me, to tackle the land I don’t know, the troubling aspects that would surely come from this journey. Poetic right?
We finally made the Hoover Dam. Of course there was a police force designated to the protection of this landmark, and of course with all of the crap piled in the back of my car, we were selected to be searched. It wasn’t as big a deal as I worried it to be. I popped the trunk and let them peer through the windows into the back seat. They asked if I was military, thanks haircut, and shortly thereafter let us pass by.
We drove over the hoover dam and parked at the first available parking spot. We got out and took a few pictures. It was surreal knowing this canyon was about as deep as the grand canyon, being forged from the same river. Simply looking like a pond we wondered at why it was so shallow. Clearly visible were markings of where the water had gotten up to, yet there was easily a thirty foot difference from then to now. We took a few pictures then changed position, drove a little higher and took more pictures. While up high we noticed a bunker that looked more like a sniper outpost, so we snapped a few pictures of that. We didn’t stay too long before we took to the road again. This time to our final destination, San Diego.
The road was long. It had been long. It will always be long. We drove and for some reason Mary became excited about the Alien Jerky we saw signs for along the way. We stopped and picked up this said “Alien Jerky” and filled the tank with the surprise of a whole dollar more per gallon than anywhere along the trek. One other surprise waited at that gas station. California doesn’t participate in the Subway points program!!! For years I have been cashing in on my free six inch sub, now I would have to buy every single one. Was this a sign of the fiscal hurtles I would come to experience while in California? Regardless, we continued. It was night fall by the time we got a glimpse of Los Angeles, and two hours later, San Diego.
We made it! Beautiful and lovely San Diego. She beckoned and I heard her call. The lights of my car showed palm trees lining the highway, ramps, and bridges spawning in every direction. Her warmth embraced me, while her kindness left me in awe. Mary and I, both could not believe stop signs were big here, not only that but the taxi’s didn’t threaten pedestrians, but let them go ahead of them! There weren’t a lot of cars on the roads but people walked to and fro. It was the gaslamp district we wound up in first, then we found Harbor drive and took that out towards the airport. There, we found a nice place to park and take a picture of the skyline of my new home.
I guess all in all the trip itself didn’t divulge wondrous thoughts of realism. It didn’t birth any ideas of fruitful gain. I didn’t even gain a fuller sense of self through the drive. I spent a lot of time with my own thoughts. I did experience a world beyond what I ever thought I would. I strengthened a relationship with my sister beyond what I ever thought I’d want to. San Diego was San Diego. Just the place I was, in the here and now.
Time began to work it’s magic. By the time we found a place to crash for the next couple of days, while I searched for an apartment, the realities began to kick in. I wanted to write it down and play it out. Watching Titanic gave me a great scapegoat to the tears that had whelmed within me. It was in this moment when I had the greatest clarity of all, even with the six beers I had already pound.
I am me. I will always be me. I hid from myself for a while. I hid myself from the world for a while. My world was my partner. How foolish could I have been. I hid me. The greatest attribute about me; me. Location, while important to inspiration, won’t change me. I am me no matter where I may be. That’s why I don’t feel the difference.I am where I want to be now. I am where I am meant to be now. I will grow and strengthen myself. It sounds selfish, but I did it for me. The mission was accomplished. I had hoped for a great realization along the trip but it didn’t come. Now it finally had. Originating with a want for change, I made that change. With this new realization I was quickly going to change. It happened quickly, and those that only knew me in my downed state were shocked by my change.
It’s nice getting the opportunity to start a new life. Though I miss everyone I left back home, I am forging my life now with clear slate and a clear mind! Wish me luck!