We Don't Stop (Literally)

Driving today, I observed for the umpteenth time how people try to drive forward just a little at stoplights, even when theirs is red. Like their cars creeeeep forward until the light changes to green, however long that may be.

It's such a little thing, but it causes so many problems in the world, because people are not willing to stop, even when they should. How easy is it, objectively speaking, to stop--observe--and continue on as you were? Really? But people give into their instinct to Keep. Going. At. All. Costs.

And it ruins things.

People die because of it.

Assholes in cars kill people everyday because their movement forward in time and space is more important than anything else, even another person's life.

And to think, all of this could have been avoided if people would just slow down every once in a while, just stop every once in a while. If people were more mindful in general and less selfish.

It's all about me, it's all about my journey and my constant motion forward and no one else matters.

^That is your subconscious^

Constant awareness is the key, the key to a better world.

Stopping is the key.

-Randa

It's All About Scale

When Interstellar came out, I saw it in theaters and afterwards cried for 3 hours non stop. I could not figure out why I couldn't stop crying, but a few days afterward, it came to me. The story is about a man who crosses the universe, dimensions, and time to save his daughter. He subsequently saves all of humanity, but really, he did it to save his child. I was crying, because even he, the man who had done all these things, was merely a speck of dust in a universal existence. Unimportant, unremarkable. And if he was that, what did that make me? Someone who thought getting up every morning was difficult. What did that make my friends? My family? Anyone I had ever met?

We were all so small, and I was crying because I knew it, but no one else did.

I was crying because no matter what I or anyone else did, there was no way we were ever going to change that. I was crying because I didn't understand how people could go on living if it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

But a few days ago, I had a conversation with a friend about this. He said that on a Macro scale, no one, not even the earth, really mattered. Perhaps our universe didn't even matter. Perhaps our universe was a speck of dust in a giant's eye that no one gave a crap about. And the cells that make up our bodies are ridiculously small, and they don't matter singularly to us either. But right here, right now, in my scale, I was important to the people around me. They were important to me too, and if I were to perish or they were to perish, there would be lasting effects on those who had been around on my level, who witnessed my existence.

And that made me feel so much better.

-Randa

The "We" In Me

Sometimes, in my alone time when I talk to myself, I find that I refer to myself as "we". As more than a singular. But I understand that the sum of the "we" is "Randa", and that in addressing myself as we, I am merely recognizing my different facets. They are not defined or distinct parts of my personality that work against each other, merely my different dispositions.

This is getting kind of complicated, so hopefully I haven't lost you but if I have, we're about to delve deeper, so hold on to your butts.

I recognize that I have two, perhaps three, different "Randa" voices in my mind. They are all me, but one of them is overly zealous, confident, and reckless. One of them is so cripplingly dependent on making others happy that self sacrifice is a constant, a daily. The third is neutral about almost everything, objective and unfeeling in a lot of instances. These three dispositions are on a constant revolve, and depending on who I am with or what I am doing, one of them is always dominant, almost drowning out the other two.

But when I find myself alone, they are all at equilibrium. Three equal parts. So I think about things and consult all three of my dispositions. There is always tension, of course, because the difference in the three of them means that when I'm thinking about possible solutions, a part of me always rejects every one. There is always some form of resistance from the reckless side or my people-pleaser side. But these are the moments when I feel the most concrete about my choices, because I have weighed all the possible options against myself and, in the silence, come to a conclusion.

It's not crazy, if you don't understand. I'm not crazy, either. I am just different from you, and that's all right.

-Randa

Free As My Hair

I cut off all of my hair on October 17th, 2015. I had wanted to take the plunge for years, but had been held back by a few things:

1) My hair grows incredibly slow so if I didn't like my hair being short, I would live in torment for literally years before my hair returned to its former state. To be honest, I wasn't too worried about this one, I knew I would love my short hair even if I had to make myself.

2) My identity. Which was linked to my hair and had been linked to my hair since birth. The last time I had hair as short as I wanted to cut it now was when I was two years old. I'm twenty now. That's eighteen years of an identity formed around long hair.
         As a woman, I was worried I wouldn't be found attractive, or even worth the time of men if I cut off all my hair. Since I was a child, people had been telling me how much they loved my long hair, so I didn't know how they would respond if I cut it all off. All the ads aimed at my demographic featured women with long hair. It was the feminine ideal society had pushed upon me.

But then I realized none of that mattered. If anything, that was the reason why I needed to cut off all of my hair. Not knowing made it more imperative. I needed to know who I was without this core piece of my identity, this crutch I had been leaning on for so long.

Now I'm free to figure out who I am at my core, without all the crutches. Slowly, I'm taking away all the things I have leaned on my whole life to figure out who I really am at the center. And it is absolutely terrifying, but I cannot stop. 

-Randa

I Don't Feel My Worth

I don't feel worth the company I keep. I don't feel worth their time or effort. Why hasn't everyone abandoned me already? How could I ever repay them for staying with me, comforting me, telling me what my mind knows to be true over and over again because my heart doesn't believe it. I could not. There is nothing I could do to show them how much it meant, how much it means that they are here for me, even when I have nothing to give.

So I sit alone in silence, and cry to myself. Because I cannot put that burden on anyone else.

-Randa