All Good Things

I’m a big believer that the Universe (capital U) knows a lot, and that I should listen to it.   I own (and actively use) tarot cards.   I have crystals hanging in my room.   I pray constantly.   And I think that recently, I’ve felt a little abandoned.   I get an idea in my head, that I should leave this place, at this time, so that I can be in the Right Place ™️ , at the Right Time ™️ for **something magical** to happen (knowing exactly what I want that **something magical** to be).   And when that exact thing does not happen, I let my heart sink, I let myself believe that I’m more alone than I used to be.   I wait for signs, but I only look for them in the same places, over and over.   The other day, I left lunch earlier than I usually do.   I wasn’t feeling great about where I was or what I was feeling in the moment, so I packed up and walked an unusual route, slowly to class, hoping for exactly one thing to happen.   That ex...

There will be very few occasions in life so perfectly timed that there will be no waiting involved.   Catching a train, a play beginning, finding a soul mate — these are all events which often require some patience.   “Patience is a virtue.” Cliché as it may be, the above phrase has occupied a rather large piece of my consciousness for the past few months.   An enormous compliment came from my course advisor one morning last semester when I mentioned my preoccupation with patience, and she told me that it didn’t seem like I much needed the reminder.   But I have needed the reminder, recently more than usual.   Studying abroad, being physically so far away from so much of what I love, was a trial.   It bred a nasty sort of insecurity inside my mind, one that was unreasonable, nonsensical, unkind.   I’d find myself chanting silently that patience is a virtue, patience, virtue, patience, virtue.   Be patient with others, and if that...

Not to be a downer, but I’ve recently felt rather caught up in the notion of missed opportunities and the bittersweetness of the temporary.  I’m not sure if it’s that my hormones are running a little wild, or if it’s some strange, new, fresh-on-the-market brand of homesickness, but whatever it is, I really feel the need to take time away from my essay on irony in Oedipus the King to write about it for a little.   Buckle in for some ~~wild~~ reflection folks!! The first show that we saw in London was Kinky Boots.   And throughout the course of Kinky Boots, I found myself in tears on three separate occasions.   It wasn’t a sad production (it was hilarious), and I wasn’t feeling particularly unhappy (I’m in London, for Christ’s sake), but the story made me think more than I have in a while about what my life looks like.  And please don’t get me wrong, I love that image.  My heart swells - almost painfully  - when I think of all of ...

Hello!   My name is Josefa and I believe that this, here, is a blog (though it is nearly as new to me as it is to you).   In order for us to all get to know one another, I’ll first give you some background on me, and then perhaps some on the blog (just to get started). I’m a college student majoring in English Education.   I’m twenty years old (or I will be soon enough), and I really like to think about things.   I also like writing, so here we are.   A blog where I write about the things about which I think.   It might be interesting or it really might not be, I’m mostly in it because it gives me an opportunity and a reason to edit the rambling pieces I tend to write.   I’m all about that self-improvement and reflection, yo. I figured a blog was a good format for the pieces that I’ll be putting here because they’re not quite narratives and they’re not quite stories — not really meeting any standards for any genre I’d be interested in submitting...