The Spectre of a Dead Relationship

Rebooting has brought a lot of interesting things to the forefront to me. I've started a new job. I've gone back to school (and liked it!). I've even started to read and write original fiction for fun and maybe profit one day.

There is something else that this whole process has brought up: a dead relationship that refuses to stay dead. This zombie of a connection keeps popping up at interesting times and while I wish it could stay dead forever, I know that will never be. To summarize:

He was a friend, a close friend, never more than that. He had issues, so does everyone. He and I grew close, like brother and sister. One day, he began to change. To avoid me. To make plans that somehow always fell through. To thank me for being so understanding as he continued to ignore our friendship and let the short time we had left together slip away. I grew bitter. I felt alone. I told him so. He told me it was my fault. I didn't understand enough. I wasn't patient enough. I wasn't good enough. I said goodbye. 

Usually, that's the end of the story. Except this particular spectre happens to have a lot of mutual connections with myself, connections who haven't seen him for what he truly is yet. It is not my place to expose him nor belittle him as he did me. It is my place to come to terms with the fact that he will be orbiting my social circle for quite a while, if not, always. I am not particularly happy with this, but that is how things are. Perhaps one day I will not mind it. For now, that is not the case.

As with other things in this rebooting process, I will continue to find a way to make this work.

RG

If Writing and I Were in a Relationship, It Would Be Complicated

So, among rebooting various aspects of my life right about now, something I started writing has come back to me from beyond the grave. I'm not quite sure what to make of it really. On the one hand, it can turn into your typical near future dystopia novel in which yet another female character generated by a new author would save the day, kind of. On the other hand, there's a lot of controversial stuff I'm tackling that, while it has been covered before, bot from this specific perspective.

I'm worried about giving too much away lest someone steal my idea. But it does take a look at issues of self-expression, freedom, and choices from the point of view of a young woman who is not of Caucasian descent. That alone is rare if regular novels, let alone sci-fi/thriller/speculative fiction.

There's no doubt that I can write well. The problem is finding enough time and motivation to do so. I enjoy writing and can really produce a lot when I'm in the zone. Maybe I'll dedicate some of these rebooting efforts to that.

RG

Waking Among Dreams

It's odd how many go into teaching as a back-up plan. I can't really think of anyone who always knew they wanted to be a teacher since they were five or six-years-old. Teaching for me wasn't even an idea until I got a flier in my mailbox for an info session and figured, "Why not?"

I've come across many in my grad school classes. Some came to this country for a new life and were lucky enough to find a career that let them use their native language and paid well. Others are taking classes to become eligible for more money in their jobs. Very few are actually interested in any of these classes. I spoke to a classmate about her dreams today. She was a dancer once. she had planned to teaching dance to younger students after performing on stage. She broke her leg in a freak accident, and while she can walk, she will never dance again.

I listened to her recount the end of her dreams. She is a woman who came to terms with the hand life dealt her. She went to her secondary plan to teach literature, and found happiness in it. She, like myself, needed to reboot and start anew when life didn't quite go the way she planned for it to. And she's just fine now.

I forget that I am young sometimes. After a decade or so of being a voice of reason among peers and elders alike, the fact that I am barely in my mid-20s slips my mind often. I hear a lot from those around me, that my life is ahead of me, that I have years to get where I am going. It just so happens that I went into my back-up plan before actually chasing after a dream. I had never thought of being a teacher before my senior year of college. Even then, I was still doubtful of it.

While I do not regret my decision to teach and work with the young, I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I had continued to dream. At that point, my chances of going into grad school for English Literature were very low and I probably would have settled into a publishing job. Did I give up on that too early? Perhaps. But in a strange way, I don't miss it all that much.

So, as usual, I have no clear idea of where I'm going. Just that I want to get there as safely and as happily as possible. And even if this teaching thing doesn't work out (Which is looking less likely. It seems to come naturally to me at some points) , I can always go back to my dreams.

RG