when I was 8.

When I was 8, 18 was everything. 18 was the age I would be treated as an adult. 18 was the age glorified by the media, by tradition. 18 was between 16 and 21. It was the official end of childhood and the beginning of probationary adulthood. You could still have fun at 18. But you could have adult fun if you wanted. And no, that does not mean shady things. I meant adult fun like museums, road trips and dinner parties.

When I was 8, 18 seemed like a far-off matter.

When I was 8, 18 would be the time I know what I was supposed to do in this world. 18 would see me in a big, fancy university, studying with geniuses, lugging around large textbooks and discussing serious, grown-up things with professors in round glasses and grey, Einstein hair. These professors would be wearing white lab coats, all the time.

When I was 8, 18 seemed to be a fascinating world of socializing, parties and friends. No, I knew at 8 years old that I would never be one of them, clubbing their days away and drinking beer. But I did imagine at 8 that 18-year-old Jess would have a respectful, honourable but distant relationship with her family. Of course, Hollywood said so, right? At 18, you moved out. At 18, you had your own car, your own apartment, and definitely no parental supervision. What's not to love? 18 seemed like a darn great time.

When I was 8, 18 was the time where I would grow out of Bible stories. Stories about Noah, Abraham and Moses would be a vague, distant childhood memory. My parents singing "Jesus Loves Me" as a sweet lullaby would be stored away in a warm, fuzzy treasure chest at the back of my mind. The nights I spent writing Scripture verses in my little "memory verse" notebook at 8 years old would be a piece of cake compared to the science and math formulas I knew I had to memorize at 18.

But then, 18 happened to me this year.

18 sees me in university; at least that part is true. 18 makes me realize that I've advanced further in studies compared to my peers. Yet 18 has put me in humbling situations again, and again, and again. I did not meet professors with grey hair and white lab coats. Instead, I meet lecturers who are filmmakers, linguists and doctors. I meet lecturers who are activists, believers and single parents. I meet real-life people. And boy, do I learn a lot from them.

18 brings me close to my family. 8-year-old Jess loved her parents. 18-year-old Jess loves, respects and admires her parents more than ever. 8-year-old Jess played with her brother. But 18-year-old Jess shared thoughts, had debates, held conversations and conveyed deep feelings with her brother. 18-year-old Jess lives with her family, eats with them every day, and even works with them -- and it's ever so amazing. So warm, so loved, so secure. A huge part of me dreads leaving home one day.

And finally, 18 grows a faith in me I could never have imagined. 18 helps me to understand the importance of Noah, Abraham, Moses and their heroic stories. 18 still sings "Jesus loves me, this I know," because it's true. And 18-year-old Jess is ever thankful that the Word of God remains in a deep memory that is difficult to get rid of. 18 is a year of spiritual growth, a year of gratitude and a year of taking my faith seriously.

When I was 8, I imagined 18 to be full of knowledge, freedom and self-reliance.

But when 18 came around... 8 was proven wrong.

keep writing.

I want to write. I want to write shocking things. I want to write crazy things. I want to write funny things, sad things, lovely things. I want to make people laugh, cry, think, wake up. I want to inspire and encourage. I want to create dreams within people's imaginations.

When I write, I fly. I soar. But when I write I also break. I tear apart things that don't want to open. When I write, I dig deep. I gorge out the things that are hidden. When I write, my fingers chase my thoughts like a poor worker who missed the number 82 bus. When I write, I don't exist. I only live in words.

If I want to tell a story, I write. If I want to stand for something, I write. If I want to share joy, I write. If I want a burden lifted, I write. If I am lonely, I write. If anything, I write.

But things just get in the way, you know? Insecurities creep in and whisper their dissatisfaction into my tired ears. Your writing isn't that great. Come on, my mom loves the way I write! But she's your mom; of course she supports your work. But how about my friends? They like my blog. Oh, you mean those likes on the link you share on Facebook? You think those count? But...

It's okay, you see. It's okay to not like your work. It's okay to think you're not good enough, because that's the only way you are ever going to improve. It's okay to doubt your gifts, because you will find ways to prove them. And it's really, really okay to write just however you like, because you're the writer. You think of those words. You had an idea. You wanted to write about it. You did it.

You there. Keep writing.

trashy thoughts.

It's scary to think how much trash

Fills our full minds each day

Words and images and videos

Unstoppable, coming our way

We waste our time feeding our minds

With things not beneficial

We compare ourselves to those we see

On bases so superficial

Crazy, isn't it, when we think about

How people spent their time

Before technology and its impact

On lives, yours and mine

When information competes for space

In our brains so clouded

We think of nothing else but these

Opinions and ideas shrouded

We seek to think about ourselves

When there is so much more

that can be done to touch others' lives

Instead, perfection we adore

Changing who we are to what we want to be

To try to make an impression

All in the name of uniqueness

Individualism and self-expression

Complaints and swearing and negative vibes

Flooding our tortured souls

Affecting our lives and emotions

Getting in the way of life goals

Maybe it's time to care less

About others' perfect-life projection

Perhaps one day we will realize

Our minds need lots of protection

*

Finally, brothers and sisters, 

keep your thoughts on 

whatever is right or deserves praise:

 things that are true, honorable, 

fair, pure, acceptable, or commendable.

 - Philippians 4:8 -

it's so easy.

It's so easy to find yourself lost
It's so easy to see yourself falling into pits
you'd never thought you'd even encounter.
It's so easy to lose momentum
in the vast, crazy world of university life.

Surrounded by people from
All walks of life, different than you
Slipping into habits you never had before
Habits you never struggled with
Influences creeping in from all directions

No constant prodding from teachers
No obvious answers from the books
No red pens, no A's, no tables, even
There's nothing familiar, nothing I know
Nothing I can recall from my past

It's a shame; what was once a 'good girl'
Slowly slacking, hardly trying
Is it the long breaks and the mood swings?
Is it the insane amount of freedom?
Really, in university, it's
                                     just
                                          so
                                              easy.

26 - ZEAL

[The twenty-sixth and final entry of April 2016's A-to-Z Blogging Challenge.]

*

Oh, my word, it's finally done

What an eventful, blogging-filled month!

Filled with letters from A to Z

Here's how this journey has treated me!

First I felt anxious to start this game

I tried to prepare for the days that came

But then my posts started to be boring

Sigh, I wish I could just goreng :(

Chewing on potential posts every day

I even dared to write things I don't usually say

Excellence was something I tried to pursue

And I hope I didn't force anything on you

The challenge was really going great

Had all these rhymes popping into my head

Ideas were forming and just pouring out

Joy, kindness, laughter my posts talked about

Mornings were spent trying to stay ahead

Nights I wrote for tomorrow; I couldn't wait

Opening tabs to find suitable pics

From pexels.com, lovely stock photo picks!

Quitting this challenge was a temptation

Running away and seeking vacation

Truth be told, I was getting uninspired

Vetoing my own thoughts, becoming tired

Wisdom and knowledge were gained in this season

'Twas like using an x-ray to find a reason

For my love for writing and why it kept you engrossed

Zeal was what I had; thanks for reading my posts!

*

To all those who have been keeping up with my (almost) daily posts and encouraged me, I'd like to sincerely thank you for supporting me in my writing. It really was not easy trying to keep up with churning out a (hopefully) interesting topic and create (hopefully) legit rhymes about said topic. It almost felt as if I was half-dead in a marathon, gasping for air, yearning for energy as I reached the last few letters. Anyhow, it has been really fun to keep my blog so fresh like this, and I'm really not sure when I'll ever blog again! Maybe I'll stay away from this for the next year or so. (Jokes!)

Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed it. 

The #AtoZChallenge 2016 has been officially completed!