There are a lot of I's in this entry.

I was going to write an entry about washed dreams and goodness, but for some reason never mustered the energy to complete it nor press the button to "publish post."

I for some reason was researching resource mobilization and fund raising strategy websites to get better at my work as the August date closes in. With exciting new changes and staff members the momentum has built with the development work of our organization and I'm really excited to learn from all the people that surround me.

I still have lots to learn. I realized that I don't really have the tools or knowledge to fully engage in my development officer role, and rely mostly on people pushing me to meet with donors, or written reports and grants.

I must speak with a louder voice. Literally and figuratively. I suppose my 4' 11" self can only muster a voice that people next to me can hardly hear. I wonder when that started to happen, I think my soft voice really took a turn when I first came to Vietnam.

I lost my voice and now it doesn't seem to exist. Especially since I had to learn a new language. I became voiceless.

The language of development I am just beginning to grasp. Didn't even realize it until now, but I didn't know the language nor do I know how to effectively utilize it to produce outputs of success and progress.

Thinking on my feet. That's what I need to do. Absorbing information, taking it in, processing it quickly, but then bringing it back out with measurable successes and goals. That is how most of the world works. I wonder if my creativity will get washed away from this. I used to think that you know. I felt that policy washed the creativity out of me. I felt that chemistry washed the creativity out of me. I felt that biology did as well.

But maybe I can make use of what is given to me and find creativity in that. Keep it alive. As it will probably always be inside me. If only I can connect art and creativity with the present but sometimes a sleepiness and reality over comes me. I wonder when the two will connect.

With the random turn of events, while researching development/fundraising strategy, I stumbled upon Taoist websites and liked the quotes I found:

"The soul is what we are."

"The spirit is a soul in motion."

"The ego is the sheepdog of our spirit."

"Open windows within life/ Discover your soul."

"In the end the best answer is no answer."

I don't have much to say about them, but interesting. Sometimes Taoism beliefs echo my own thoughts. I've always liked that.


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Just write.

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Sometimes, I realize that thinking about the future will get you no where, while day dreaming about the good things of the past will also only give you fleeting happiness. Present time rarely gets attention. There is no way to reflect on present time, nor to predict present time, so sometimes living in the present gets neglected. You can only live in the present. You cannot reflect nor predict the present. There is no way.

You know I used to be really smart. Like super straight A smart. I used to not know anything outside of being straight A smart. My life was what I was given, so in exchange I became the best with what I was given. I particularly went above and beyond in any type of project that required art. Since I wasn't allowed to go outside, I made the best of what I could inside, I made the best of what I could with what I had. Challenges were overcome. I cried a lot in the privacy of my bed. It was the only place I knew I could cry and no one would see. I was unhappy and sad that all I was good at was straight A smart. That was all I saw.

The bottom right hand pink drawer on the bottom of my bed is where I kept all the papers I ever had. I never threw paper away. Only if it was too small to be cut again. I accumulated a good amount after attending a printers convention with my dad. So many free samples of papers. All kinds of colors. Pink, green, pastels, neon ones, textured ones, christmas ones. All kinds. I kept them all.

The bottom right hand pink drawer on the bottom of my bed housed my creativity. I think it's still there actually. Stored away, warm I hope. If you open it today, I still have paper there. That drawer housed all my creativity. Now that I've left home, with no drawer, I think I feel a bit lost with my creativity. No longer contained in school assignments or birthday cards, my creativity was free to go wherever it wanted. It went somewhere alright. I just don't really know where it went.

I look forward to returning home.


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subtle rain that falls on a soft bunny that has the tenacity of a phoenix