Life #1. Life #2. Life #3. Life #4.

Life #1. Life #2. Life #3. Life #4.

“Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within.” – Steven Pressfield

When I got into middle school, I started spending hours at my computer writing. Whether it be short stories, potentially novel length stories, poems, songs, simple paragraphs or letters, I would spend hours typing away. I thought of the blank screen as a place in which I could pour out my heart. Being a kid who hadn’t had many people, if any, that I honestly talked to and trusted fully with my raw self, I resorted to expressing myself in other mediums.

That’s when I started to call myself a writer.

When I got into high school, I fell in love with photography and discovered a burning passion I never knew I had for this art. I always wanted to go shoot. I always wanted to take my camera everywhere I went. I became well known because of my camera and my photos. And all of that slowly shaped my vision of the world. A quote I once heard says, “The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera.” I couldn’t agree more. I stand by this quote.

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Freshman year was when I started calling myself a photographer.

Today, I write. Today, I take photos.

But there will always be a part of me that wonders “what if writing or photography was what I devoted all my life and attention towards?”

We all have a similar question. That’s what I believe is to be my “second” and “third” life. The life of a writer. The life of a photographer. Though I hold both passions close to heart and continue to advance in both mediums at my own speed, the flame within tells me that there could be more.

Sometimes I wonder how happy I would be if I spent hours and hours of the days editing photos and going on photoshoots, if photography was my career. I wonder how many people would see my work, how many hearts my work would touch. Sometimes I fantasize about being a writer whose words make a huge impact in the world and motivated people to change their lives and ways of thinking for the better. I wonder what would have happened if I had followed my heart back when.

But then I look at the life around me, and stop. I love the life I have right now. I have another passion I discovered within my first programming class. I have high hopes for the future and this potentially life-changing career. I have a wonderful boyfriend who loves me. I have irreplaceable friends who adore me. I have a better life than I had expected.

After all, this is the life I’m living. If I weren’t happy with it, I wouldn’t be living it.

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Create. Inspire. Enjoy.

Create. Inspire. Enjoy.

Life, in my mind right now, should always be about creating, inspiring, and enjoying. Take this as you will but I ask you to give what I say more than a second of thought.

We are constantly creating. We strive to create welcoming and accepting environments. We yearn to continue and create new technology and advance our minds in multiple ways. We create new opportunities, if not for ourselves then for the people who come after us. We create countless of moments in our lives, including both the ones we wish to relive and those we wish we never had experienced. Despite whatever we do, we are creating something. If you want the most basic and simplest form of this, then: we are continuously creating carbon dioxide when we inhale oxygen from the air around us.

We are constantly inspiring, as well. No matter whether or not you are aware of it or not, multiple people in your life look up to you to a certain extent; no matter whether or not you are purposefully trying to inspire another human being that is exactly what you do, just by being you. It can be as basic as someone looking up to you because you are kind to everyone you meet. It can be the fact that you are ambitious or passionate with something. It can be anything. Someone around you is looking up to you every single day.

And, lastly, if you are not enjoying life…then what the heck are you doing? If you don’t like something, change it. If you want something/someone, work for it/them. If you are feeling more negative feelings than positive, change the way you see the current events in your life because all it really is, is mindset. Think of that insanely hard class as your opportunity to challenge yourself. Think of that mean boss as a chance for you to be the bigger person and simply remain professional and friendly. Think of the accident you got yourself into as a lesson for your future so you don’t make the same mistake twice. It’s all in the mindset and how much you believe you can grow from what is happening around, and to, you.

Remember,
Create. Inspire. Enjoy.

If you aren’t doing these three things, change something.

https://edmundcelis.com/

Wake up. Realize There’s More.

Wake up. Realize There’s More.

I’m sick and tired of being played. I’m sick and tired of being tortured, manipulated, used. I’m sick and tired of trying to make something meaningful, and getting bullshit in return.

To the young females and males out there, who know what it’s like and who are trying their uttermost best to change something about the worlds around them for the better:

I salute you. It doesn’t seem it matters how many times our hearts get torn out of our chests and beaten with wood. It doesn’t seem to make a difference how many strangers walk into our lives and turn it upside down. And it doesn’t matter how the world around us tells us to give up, because we all know, deep down in our hearts, that we will never stop fighting for good. Whether that battle be within ourselves, between our minds and hearts, or between those who we are supposed to be standing beside, we will not stop fighting.

But I’m getting tired. I have to admit, I’m getting sick and tired of all the hurt and the pain that comes from hoping for too much too soon and having too much faith in what’s not there.

When I see that there is potential somewhere, sometimes I jump at the opportunity to turn it into something meaningful right off the bat. When I see there is light in someone’s heart, that spark in someone’s eyes, I pray for them to be able to keep that for the rest of eternity. When I feel something, when there’s a moment in life where I wish I could replay it over and over again, I know there is still something surrounding all of us that is more than the everyday worries we all have running through our minds. There’s something more than what jobs we have, how successful we are money wise, or what kinds of opportunities for fame we missed; the friendships we have, the relationships we love, the human connections we live for…that is more than anything and everything that exists in both mind and body.

But…why do we, as a society, raise up the importance of “connections” in the business world and letter grades on courses about knowledge rather than human connections with one another as human beings and all those lovely moments we all wish to relive once again.

On the top of my head I can name a few:

  • The first time he called me ‘baby’ when I was riding in the front seat of his car.
  • The first time I won an art competition with a photograph that completely represented who I was.
  • The times he held my hand as we walked down the street talking and laughing about anything and everything that came to mind.
  • The times he said ‘forever and a day’ because it was a cute catch phrase he had way back when.
  • The times I’d find myself laughing so hard that my stomach hurt and all my friends were laughing just as loud around me.
  • The times my parents and siblings could finally cook a meal together without someone trying to eat another’s ear off.
  • The last time my mom told me she was proud of me, despite my having to ask her first.
  • The last time I simply sat with a friend and told them a bit of who I am and what I’m made of.
  • The last time I felt as if I was home when I was in someone else’s arms.
  • The last time I felt safe just with the presence of someone else I truly trusted.

Those are the moments, those are the things, those are the feelings we should be holding onto…not the trophies we won, not the certificates that just became pieces of paper, not that million dollar toilet painted yellow, not the labels we, as a society, give each other as ‘titles’ of our accomplishments as if the title means more than the knowledge itself.

I’m sick and tired of people laughing at, or joking around about, or teasing someone over how ‘sensitive’ they are to their relationships with those around them. I’m sick and tired of people making relationships sound like “decorations for Christmas” or “a center piece for the table”. It’s not the accessories that we don’t always need…it’s the structure of everything that is our lives and everything that should really mean a damn to you.

Do Not…Even Try…

Do Not…Even Try…

Don’t tell me I worry too much about others. I remember what it feels like to think no one cares, and I know no one should have to feel that way.

Don’t tell me I spread myself too thin. I don’t know how many times someone older had told me they regret not doing enough when they were younger.

Don’t tell me I can’t help someone. I don’t know that I can’t until I try every thing that I know how to do, and maybe I’ll learn something new along the way too.

Don’t tell me I daydream too often. The greatest thing about life is the fact that you get to write your future the way you want to, and ANYTHING can happen between “now” and “then”.

Don’t tell me I’m a disgrace to my family. I might not make them proud; I might not be a world’s greatest female of anything, but I’m doing what I can and I’m doing my best.

Don’t tell me I cannot do something before I’ve even started. Everyone amazes, in the end, and everyone is more capable than anyone may think.

Don’t define me by what happened in the past. It might be a long time from then, and I know I’m not the same person I used to be.

Don’t define me by my parents’ wealth or good fortune. You can give or take what you will from a child, but it really only depends on how the child was raised.

Don’t define me by what you see on the outside. Everyone knows, a mask hides and a cover conceals. Things aren’t always as they seem, even without magic.

Don’t define me by your standards of what you believe I should be. I don’t live by your rules and I don’t live to impress you.

Don’t define me by a mistake or a fluke. You can’t expect to get an entirety of a story with only a chunk of a chapter. That’s merely an assumption and not the truth.

Don’t tell me I need to stop caring so much. If you don’t care about others, if you don’t have that human connection, then what is your heart worth?

Me and My Keyboard

Me and My Keyboard

It’s easier to type my thoughts rather than say them in a coherent sentence in front of you.

It’s easier to talk through typing than trying to put my thoughts into a straight sentence while your eyes see through my soul. I feel vulnerable and I know, sometimes, it shows.

It’s easier to hear my own thoughts and know what I’m thinking when I’m not distracted by being nervous in front of you. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself, but sometimes I end up doing just that by worrying about it.

It’s easier to be descriptive when I have time to pause and feel comfortable with thinking through my words rather than trying to have “smart” words come out of my mouth at a constant rate. Who can do that? Apparently, not me.

It’s easier to tell a story when the person anticipating on what’s going to happen next isn’t staring at me all wide-eyed and intrigued (not saying that all my stories are that interesting).

There’s something about me and the keyboard that just clicks.

When it’s me and the keyboard, suddenly I can pour out my heart. When it’s me and the keyboard, suddenly being honest and blunt is the route I tend to take. When it’s me and the keyboard, suddenly being myself isn’t all too scary.

My fingers fly over the letters, words come out easily, and sentences are easily strung together coherently. My thoughts line up instead of acting like a thousand people trying to get out of a burning building all at once. My ideas are clear and right in front of me instead of making it seem like there are gallons of water raining down in order to block my view.

When it’s me and the keyboard, suddenly saying what I want, or need, to say suddenly becomes more natural….and, sometimes, beautiful.

Open Your Eyes 145

Open Your Eyes 145

I remember when I first started blogging. I didn’t know what to write, I just knew I wanted to write. I’ve been writing for years, and years. It was how I expressed myself, besides photography. I love sitting at my laptop and watching my finger fly over the keyboard and these little symbols (letters) pop up and create a story, a journey.

When I started my blog (I don’t know how many years ago), I wanted to be heard. I wanted to talk about stuff that’s relatable. Something.

Then I came across this blog:  Random Ramblings

And it was like something clicked. These posts about daily life’s struggles. These posts about someone who was going through life just as cluelessly as I was. These posts that had deeper meaning even without being all philosophical. I was astonished.

I started writing about my life, my past, my ideas….me.

I wrote about things that happened in my life, things that mattered to me, things that meant something to me, and hoped that someone else would see things in my perspective as well and understand where I was coming from. I hoped to get followers. I hoped to get likes. I wanted to know I was being heard.

But now?

I write. I blog. I rant. I vent. I tell stories. I imagine ideas. I write.

Despite whether I get likes or the number of followers on my blog increases, I know my words are out there. I know my ideas are out in the open. I, myself, am getting heard.

And that’s all that matters. I wanted to be heard. I am.

March 26. 19. 2017.

March 26. 19. 2017.

– writing this ahead of time –

I wonder if my phone will explode with messages and calls. I wonder if people will be kinder and try to make me smile more. I wonder what will happen during the next couple days at school when I see my classmates and friends.

I wonder if my parents will remember. I wonder if my sister will call home from London. I wonder if we’ll celebrate somehow. I wonder if it’ll just be one of those rare dinners that we have (like steak or hotpot) whenever we “celebrate”. I wonder if we’ll go out to head a some sushi buffet because we’re lazy to cook and make it big.

I wonder if my aunts will remember. I probably won’t hear from my aunts or uncles. I’ve never been close to family.

I wonder if I’ll be buried in schoolwork. I wonder how that’s going to go. I wonder if I’ll even remember. I won’t if I’ll have any time for myself and just be grateful I survived yet another year of life.

March 26. I turn 19. Almost 20.

March 26. Last year was hell. Too much drama with friends.

March 26. It’s a week or so away. I wonder what will happen.

I don’t celebrate. We usually don’t do anything. Family doesn’t do the whole gift thing, the whole taking time to see what they would really want or what would be super meaningful. We don’t do that. Family doesn’t do that.

Awell.