It ends in puberty

Okay so I don’t know exactly, how conducive this will be to my entire blog, or how much of a cons tribute on this is to the world but it is what it is. A psychological experiment, on myself. 
You could say, everything is kind of considered art, right? Sometimes the impulsivity of things.. is like art to me. 
I don’t know, I just have to get things out. Here are my thoughts.. unarranged, unprepared.. If I don’t get SOMETHING out I might not keep up with the rest of my blog posts. So yes… I don’t know how else to say this, but it is quite untactfully selfish. Is there any virtue in admitting that one is untactfully selfish? Surely there must be.. 
Let this be.. a personal experiment on how the world views my raw thought. (If I even get A view. Lol. Oh, if someone, anyone reads this.. please say hi.) I shall repost them again, as properly written articles with the right pictures and the references and everything, later. (Pinky p.) But the purpose of this will be different. 

This is a psychology blog after all. From my own psychoanalysis of this act, I can say that I am impulsive (at times), so therefore perhaps more of an emotional brain.. I don’t know what lacking in logic means at times, especially when emotion and feeling oftentimes has a strong logic of its own.. 
As much of a widely accepted fact it is that the brain operates on two different hemispheres, the right Creative and the left logical hemisphere, I feel like I may have allowed the thought of these two as opposites, and in turn as the two sides of our bodies as in a certain way, separate from each other (which they are most certainly NOT), since one is presumably governed by its opposite brain hemisphere. 

But to conclude.. I read somewhere that the brain in fact, operates holistically. Sorry, no source citing here. (Well okay, here you go: ) “I’m ‘brained. Not right brained or left brained. I have a brain.”Neil Degrasse Tyson 

 But I believe it to be true. And our bodies holistically too. I think that is the most ideal way to view things, as opposed to being broken up into all these little bits.. bits.. which is also strangely linked to our usage of language and how it connects us as much as it separates as it connects. So for example, this is a hand. In other languages.. it may be called something else. So and so. But aside from being a hand.. it is also.. look at your own hands. They are just… just. They are just. As is, just about everything. But there is something in particular About hands, they are so personal. 

Deography by Dylan O’Donnell

On the idea of separation.. after about the age of 11 I think, I started noticing that one of my lil kiddy boobs was bigger than the other. This was a huge source of insecurity for me. Well I was mainly embarrassed about having it/them in the first place, it the fact that one had a significant growth stunt on one side was especially tormenting. Oh, puberty. I really do not miss you sometimes. I remember alway fanning these huge baggy shirts that I would wear just so my lil boobies wouldn’t stick out. I also stayed in denial of not being able to walk around the house shirtless like dad and my Brother, for perhaps a bit longer than I should have. But it’s hard.. accepting that this is a permanent fixture of your body. That you can’t do body slams on the trampoline the same way without feeling an ache. That all of a sudden, you feel different and weird at Swimming gala because of the swim suit. I lied about being sick at Swimming gala just so I wouldn’t have to wear it. Just constantly feeling uncomfortable. 

Me before the puberty’s grasp. Oh the beams of childhood innocence.. my eyes hurt.

As Glad that I m that it is all over, I also sometimes think that this pre-pubescent awkwardness has simply transmuted itself into an awkward adulthood. LaWl. You know what they say… nothing is ever created or destroyed. Only changed. 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s