We’re nothing but cockroaches on this planet. The scourge of the Earth, if you will. You might think that’s negative, but let me assure you, I am by no means a negative person. I’m the type that believes the glass is always completely full because a refill is coming. In that sense, I’m an endless optimist. At the same time, I am an endless optimist who is skeptical of the infinite – meaning that I know there will come a point in time when I won’t be getting a refill. My opinions have always been informed by this principle. I keep my outlook about 99% positive and top it off with a 1% margin of error for things going awry. Disappointment rarely gets to me because I have already predicted it. But I digressed somewhere far from where I wanted to be in this post.
Let’s go back to the cockroaches. We’re nothing but cockroaches – a little blip in Earth’s grandiose history. You know how cockroaches never really go away? No matter how hard you try to get rid of them? They say that cockroaches will outlive everything if there was a nuclear strike or catastrophe. I believe it; they’re hardy and numerous. Humans are the same way. We’re little blips and relatively unimportant. Here’s the thing: a cockroach might not be good for much besides causing a child to freak out or getting a restaurant shut down, but a team of cockroaches? They can leave a trail of destruction behind. It’ll get dirty, nasty, and plain old disgusting. We can learn a thing or two from cockroaches: when we team up, we can make an incredible impact on whatever we set our minds to. It is totally up to us whether we push things toward a negative direction or a positive direction.
All that talk about cockroaches just for that one sentence. Like cockroaches, we are powerful together. The power of one exists, but it pales in comparison to teamwork. Now, to my muse (somehow I end up hiding these little bits and pieces within larger works. I think it says something about how much I value my privacy.):
For a while there, I stalled. I couldn’t think of anything to write about and I was wholly uninspired. At that point, the world seemed bleak and uninteresting. Even though the sun kissed my skin and everyone around me, I found no meaning for myself or in myself. My coworkers, who are all beautiful people, intellectual in their own right, and great friends with me, all had something going on for them. They were drawn to the beauty of things they held close. One of them drew from the beauty, individualism, and flexibility of fashion. Another drew from the beauty (more like hotness) of women around him. But can you really blame nature for making this the case? I drew from…nothing. Not then.
To be blatantly honest, the first time I met her, she didn’t captivate me.
In college, I had a muse. If we take a look at the etymology of the word muse, we find that it appears in Greek and Roman mythology. The Muses were goddesses that inspired music, science, literature, and the arts. In later times, there is mention of a muse in Shakespeare’s Henry V and by various other poets. To be clear, my usage of the word muse is an even looser definition; one that has been adopted by most people to mean: “A woman, or a force personified as a woman, who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist”. (Oxford Dictionaries: muse) College was fun and life was grand. I wasn’t emotionally vested in too many things and I didn’t have to divvy up my mind’s processing power. I wrote about life, pain, and love, all while taking pictures and perfecting the basics. My muse at the time was a beautiful miss – an actual person, not a “force personified as a woman”. To be blatantly honest, the first time I met her, she didn’t captivate me. I breezed right over her feminine physique in that pretty dress, her beautiful freckled face, and tan legs. It’s funny how we can sometimes overlook things and come back to notice them in the future: as time went on, she grew on me and her mind captivated me so thoroughly that I was left with no real choice but to cave in. That just goes to show that sometimes physical attraction develops after an emotional one. I’m glad I let myself go because that completely opened me up to new possibilities, views, ways of thinking, and emotions. I never knew I was possible of feeling so deeply and courageously.
I think you can see by now that my tone shifted throughout this piece. I’m battling myself at this point because I’m trying to reveal something so deeply entrenched in myself, but at the same time, I’m afraid to. My muse gave me so much strength, passion, and power. So much that I didn’t even know what to do with it and so I worked on perfecting my photo-taking, my website, and my writing. I came up with ways to build myself and my values. This is what a muse does to you. A muse encourages you to grow and to think deeply. And I love her for it, more than she will ever be able to fathom, because it even escapes me.
For a year following my escape from college, I was left muse-less and relatively life-less. I occupied my time reading books and continuing to improve various aspects of myself, but without my muse. I was a hot mess inside, although I never showed it to anyone. I think I was too full of pride and none of my dude-bro friends would understand anyway, for they had not been touched by a muse in their life – you could just tell. For the first time in my life, I felt a pit in my stomach and long lapses of time where I couldn’t think straight. There was an infinite hole in my heart and every time I wanted to feel a smidgeon of happiness or positivity, all I was left with was sadness. All this because of a muse. But you see, she was such an integral part of my life that having her out of it left me tired. As much as people say you should never rely on or become overly emotionally attached to someone, I did. I took a risk because I believed in it and because it made me better. I still, to this day, stand by my choice.
This post is dedicated to that light she shines on my life.
My muse has returned though and shines brighter every day, encouraging me to write. This post is dedicated to that light she shines on my life. Through the years, it has become easier to appreciate every aspect of her and what she does to me. The way she doesn’t even have to speak but still manages to influence me. The way her mind speaks to me and her emotions envelop me. I’ve even grown very fond of her physical beauty and unique style. I looked back at my blog posts from a time where I was in the dark and compare them to my present posts – there is a drastic difference and I am thankful for that. I try to be thankful every single day because my muse deserves the best I have to offer; after all, she offers me something no one else can. I’m not going to forget what she means to me and being complacent is NOT AN OPTION for me. I know how it feels to be left without a muse and I don’t want to lose her. My muse is and will always be better than your muse!