It is a basic condition of life: to be required to violate your own identity.

Change is permanent because things are always changing.

Tattoos are permanent because the mechanized needle forces pigment into the dermis layer of skin – since the pigment is too large to be removed by white blood cells, it simply stays.

So here I stay. And here I change.

Here I have a tattoo.

The pale, long-haired, Queen of the tutors pictured in the engagement photos from exactly one year ago looks in the mirror and wonders why this equally pale, tattooed, medical technologist with Zoe Deschanel fringe-banged hair is blinking blindly back at her.  It seems that they only thing they have in common is lack of sleep, coffee breath and winged black eyeliner.

I don’t know who I am anymore, but it’s the first time in a very long time that I’ve been okay with saying that out loud (or at least, seeing the words appearing on the screen). I always forget about the transition states.

In chemistry, the transition state has the highest amount of energy through the entire reaction – in a sense, it’s the oomph needed for the reaction to progress to completion.

transitionstatechem114a

However, it can be difficult to navigate.  You can put a lot of energy into something and still not go anywhere if you haven’t reached the transition state; there is actually a way to make that flirtatious transition state more attainable: enzymes.  Enzymes can lower the activation energy of a transition state in too many ways for me to describe in this little post.

Either way, I always struggle with the transition state.  You can throw the pre-wedding, pre-graduation, pre-adulthood Sydney into a pot with a degree, a husband, and a job in the field (right out of school, with benefits and PTO).  You can add an identity crisis, tear-filled showers, and homegrown herbs on a patio.  You can add a haircut.  But you will not end up with even the remotest semblance of a finished product.

There are so many people I need to become before I end up close to that “finished product.”  In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll never quite get there.  Regardless, I’ve finally found myself overcoming my social anxiety and introducing myself to the new person I see in the mirror.

She’s actually kinda nice.

I think I like her.

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I seem to have run in a great circle and found myself at the finish line.

Let me tell the tale
of a girl who didn’t stop,
who climbed up every mountain
without a pause on the top.
She’d dance until each blade of grass
was clothed in drops of dew,
and the sun knew her by name –
but the silver moon did too.
For a fear had settled in her bones;
a fear of sitting still,
that if you’re not moving forward
it must mean you never will.
So in time her dance got slower
and she looked at all she’d seen,
but found gaps inside the places
that she’d never fully been.
For she was a human doing,
a human moving, human seeing,
but she’d never taken time
to simply be a human being.

~e.h.

 

Pictures only show you who you used to be.

I own a laptop.

What a way to start a sentence on a blog. Of course, I have a laptop.

This laptop has a background on it. Specifically, my background is a slide show of pictures taken over the years. One of the scrolling pictures is my family at a party to celebrate my great grandparents’ 60th wedding anniversary (and yes, I realize that this means that the generations in my family are every 20ish years and my window is quickly closing…hate to disappoint everybody, but that’s just not happening…)

Anyway, my roommate was sitting next to me and I had just returned to my desktop screen. Having seen the picture, she asked when it was taken. She didn’t believe me when I said it was 5 years old because apparently I haven’t changed at all.

Physically.

That picture only shows a quick snapshot, a glimpse of who I used to be. Maybe I still look like that — who am I kidding? Of course I do — but that in no one means that I haven’t changed.

It takes a minute to change temporarily and a second to change forever. Just last night, two of my other roommates had a fight so big that one is moving out of the room and finalizing her transfer papers. I will add that she had been contemplating a college transfer for awhile but she officially got all her information today. How long did that take for two people to go from best friends to distant strangers?

See what I mean?

When my boyfriend asked if I would like to be his girlfriend, my status changed in the one second it took me to say yes. As soon as my college put the stamp on my acceptance letter, I gained the title of undergraduate student. One click and I was approved as a writer tutor. One second is enough to change someone’s identity, or at the very least, add something new!

So yeah, I haven’t changed appearances in five years. But you can bet that if we lined up lists with characteristics of that girl in the photo and the traits that I currently possess, the only thing that would be the same is the first and last name.

Talk about distant strangers.

The Great Puzzle: who am I?

It’s Sunday.

It’s Sunday and I went to church.

It’s Sunday and I went to church and I found out that I don’t know who I am.

Well, specifically, I was told that I don’t understand myself at all. Which is a partially true statement. The pastor said that the only person who completely understands me is the God who made me.

Let’s be honest: I can’t argue with that.

But this opens a lot of questions. If I don’t understand myself, how can I possibly live a life to fulfill goals that I’m not even sure that I want in the first place? What are my true goals then? What are my motives for acting the way that I do? Why do I experience emotions? Why can’t I pick just one favorite color instead of switching based on my mood? Why can’t I pick a favorite food instead of selecting all the food I would want for my last meal if I was on Death Row?

…see what I mean? Important questions.

But, for some reason, I’m okay with not knowing who I am. I think I’ll be just fine figuring it out as I go along my way. Usually I would be freaking out by this lack of information.

Why am I responding in a perfectly logical and calm manner?

Not sure. Probably because I have no idea who I am.

I’m the combined effort of everyone I’ve ever known.

Who am I?

If you could let me know, that would be great.

Since I don’t currently know who I am, I’m doing my best to figure it out. Most of you probably don’t know but I go through this 4-5 month cycle. Once the 4-5 months are up, I suddenly have this urgent desire to cut my hair incredibly short or wear red and purple lipstick for a solid two weeks.

It could be that I have this innate fear of being boring. Or possibly that I am bored and need to change things up a bit.

Either way, I’ve come to the end of the cycle and I’m wrestling between two options:
1) chopping my hair off (or dying the ends purple temporarily)
OR
2) updating the blog format

I’m logically steering myself away from the hair idea because it’s just starting to get long from the last time I chopped it and I just dyed it Cherry Coke red so I’d prefer not to mess it up. Also, this blog can be changed rather easily and I already have a certain format in mind.

That being said, if you do happen to come across my blog today, it may be under construction and I’m sorry about that.