“Every story I create, creates me. I write to create myself.” – Octavia E. Butler (via BrainyQuote)
Unlike elizabethnchi, the purpose of elizarie is for me to have a space where I may separate my public self from my private self. elizabethnchi shares one half of my passions, while elizarie shares the other half. elizarie is the uncensored version of myself, as I seek to understand and discuss topics that necessarily do not fit into my official blog. Blogging originally started as a therapeutic and motivational experience, and I wish to go back to my roots with this more personal blog. Also, quick tidbit, my about in my official blog may never be updated to completion, so if you are curious as to who I am, this blog may be the answer.
Very recently, as my final, I presented five takeaways for my interdisciplinary course at college. Upon listening to my aggregated understanding and reflection of the course, my professor summed up my life goal quite perfectly – to seek a wholesome and complete understanding of the world. Up until that moment, I never seriously thought about my abstract life goal, despite my constant questioning of why I was born into this world. I knew that I wanted to find out what there was to life, like a person with wanderlust, but in many ways, that also was not my solution.
Coming from a family where the median age of my cousins was forty, and my only living grandmother is ninety-eight, mortality was something that had to be understood at a young age. It made me realize that like Ivan Ilych, life could be taken away from us at an untimely manner, and there is something sad about a life with filled with regrets. To avoid that, I wanted to accomplish many things, but mainly many different things in life, before I may find myself at death’s doors. And unlike other children, I was a well-behaved child, as the only times I got into trouble was for lying about eating.
When I was eight, there was a school fair and my dance teacher had a face paint station, which all the children flocked to. As a precocious child, I knew that my mother did not like face-related art because it could lead to skin problems, and while I did not have skin problems, it was still in my genes to have sensitive skin. However, there was a side of me that knew that if I did not seize this opportunity, then I may never have the chance to have this experience. At 4:25 PM, exactly five minutes before my mother was set to pick me up, I walked up to my teacher and asked for face paint, despite the fear of being scolded. She obliged, and drew balloons on my face. My mother, upon seeing my face, commented on my stubbornness, as she knew how much I loved body art. Looking back, I have two lessons about myself – one, for the most part, my threshold to disobey rules is very high in comparison to others, and two, when this threshold is overcome, it is usually for a reason that I can reconcile myself with. Though you could argue that my parents are just stricter in comparison to others, but then this story would not be as fun to read.
As I read more, learn more, and experience more, my identity continues to change and shift, per my worldview. “People change” is a common observation we all say whenever a friend does not respond in a manner that we anticipated. Though, I would also like to add that for me, I am also like an onion, or a Russian doll, because no matter how much you peel back and reveal, there will always be something else underneath.