Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, 

we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. 

Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand,

 and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, 

knowing that suffering produces endurance, 

and endurance produces character, 

and character produces hope, 

and hope does not put us to shame, 

because God's love has been poured into our hearts 

through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

Romans 5

I'm a recovering pessimist--

much of my life spent attempting to stifle hope and deny disappointment.

My recovery began with a confession,

a leaving behind of the phrases of denial,

I'm just being practical, 

keeping realistic expectations, 

saving myself the disappointment,

I'm not a pessimist. I'm a realist.

For the realistic end of pessimism is death and destruction. A world where all things fade away, nothing lasts, and there is no hope. Life at the hands of blind, destructive fate is empty. Yet hope always found a way.

It bubbled up in unexpected places, catching me by surprise, smacking me with disappointment. Disappointment always shows where you've placed your hope. It shows the inevitability of hoping, how it sneaks up behind you as you're trying to stuff it down in front of you. Anything to avoid disappointment, which will always find you if that hope is put in the wrong place.

What about on the shelf with the books that I read? 

Or in my purse with the cash in my wallet? 

Why not on my wall with that degree that I earned?

Or with the (invisible) ring on my finger?

It's gotta go somewhere. Tangible things are the natural way to hope. But hoping in broken circumstances and people leaves you hopeless. It requires lowering, and lowering, and lowering your expectations for it always disappoints. It always fails. It never fully satisfies.

The first step to solving a problem is accepting that you have one. 

And I had one, still do. 

But God does not disappoint.

i always have a million ways that i start these things in my head.
until i sit down to start one--
and they all escape me.

there are these different ideas rolling around,
competing with each other.
and no outlet.

it's like i need to write a manifesto or something.
get all these theories out of my head
to leave space for the rest of life.

sometimes i wish there were someone who would just ask me about these crazy things.
most people don't really want to hear about why i think philosophy is important
or how our culture lies to us, what makes a good movie or painting or song.
and i wonder what to do with it all.

surely there must be a place for it to be used--
without overwhelming people.
or getting into stupid debates.
but really making people stop and think.
see the world differently.

i wish i knew what avenue to take.
but i guess it'll reveal itself eventually.
til then....

life is so ironic.
or maybe I just see it that way.
maybe I look for the irony.
I think I do.

something has happened in the last few months while I wasn't looking.
I didn't have time to. it was one thing after the other.
at work.
at home.
out and about.
in my head and my heart.
somewhere in the chaos I found a few pieces of myself--
more than I expected.

it's funny how that happens.
so often we come through experiences, times when we just survive, on the other side, surprised by the pieces with which we are left.

I'm really starting to like those pieces.

even just six months ago, I would've quaked when confronted at work, or even by a friend. now, not so much. this girl who has grown up, hiding in the shadows, all too often forgotten. just as much crushed by the anonymity as reveling in it. for the first time i'm meeting people fully myself, without filter (though still possessing some tact, i hope). that shy girl, she still comes out. but she's not who I am anymore. she was born of insecurity. yes, I'm an introvert and oft overwhelmed by loud noises, crowded places, smells, etc. not because I'm less of a person, just different.

I like that I like what I like.
no longer shamed by my personality, I can truly be me.
however ridiculous and honest and awkward and fun and quirky that may be.

subtle shift
something deeper is satisfied
life feels lighter

i've wrestled...
and won, for now.
til the next time.

but then it will be different,
while still the same.
and only One gives Hope.

it's funny to say when exactly freedom came.
i've only just noticed it.

nothing drastic has changed on the outside.
but space is now mine.

space to hear and see.
so simple.
a walk.
a day alone.
time to cook my own meal.

no longer living on borrowed time.

i have brief moments of clarity, like the smoke screen is lifted for just a second.
they haven't been happening as much lately. i chalk it up to all the 'otherness' demanding my attention.
it's not just attention, it's energy and general mind space.
i. want. my. mind space. back.

give it to me.
it's a tug of war.
me on one side.
and life on the other.
and right now i'm acting like a two year old who is desperately losing and throwing a hissy fit.

the present realities weigh me down. they empty me of my previous selves and my future selves. i lose sight so easily. and then something like this morning jars me. it reminds me of where i've come from. ah, how i have forgotten where i've come from. it's so easy to do here. this world is so disconnected from everything i've known before. to fully be myself now requires remembering who i have been.

people that i know now. here. know me better, more fully, than i've ever been known before. i am free to be who i want to be. that is the beauty of the east coast. freedom. but with that freedom can come great listlessness. i'm finding when you aren't grounded in your past, the present feels random and monotonous, without meaning and very little sense of progress. the past, it still leaks out. but it's not nearly as obvious when the people around you don't know it. and when your present circumstances are so far removed from anything you've ever known before.

i was totally dumbstruck riding home with a friend at 3 a.m. from a rooftop party in brooklyn. i think exhaustion removed the filter of hiding where i've been. to him, it wasn't strange. he's from brooklyn. we drove by the hospital in which he was born. and words failed me. there was absolutely no way for me to effectively communicate how drastically removed this life is from anything i've known thus far. no way. the sheer shock and how out of my element i felt. that is something i still feel many, many ordinary days.
if my childhood friends knew me now. what would they say?
this adel is nothing like the one they knew.
and if my current friends knew me when i was a child, what would they say?
would we even be friends?

i am such a product of that with which i surround myself, immersed in the experience.
addicted to experience. often wondering if i'm lost in others' experiences.

maybe as artists we are just meant to provide people with a backdrop to see themselves.

‎"People [always] think you are better than you are or worse than you are no matter who you are. So don't EVER let your identity exist anywhere as easily corrupted as the mind of another...messes with your head."

just need to sit for awhile.
sit and be.

show me please who i am supposed to be.
show me please how to be me.

who can i lean on?
who will save me?

keep and sustain me.

I'm struggling with this dichotomy,
not that i expect there to be an answer.
but always valuable to state a paradox.
to fully hold one in tension with the other--
if only for a moment.

exhaustion.
what is the cause?
when is it good?
when is it bad?

when is it a sign that one is forcing something that shouldn't happen?
when is it a sign to quit?
when is it my own fault, fighting a fight i shouldn't fight?
when is it to be ignored?
when does one push through, persevere, etc?
and when do i say enough?

what do you do when you can't say enough?
when there isn't an option to say no?

how long is too long?
and how long is not enough?