Beyond the Edge of Reason
by Tajuana Ozaneaux

Tajuana, although young in years, she speaks from the wisdom of her elders and her own personal experience. Tajuana is an amateur writer who is not afraid to step out of the box and the beliefs of her family to write what is in her heart.
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Self Realization

In keeping with my decision to try to do the things I have always dreamed, I have decided to try my hand at writing. I d been putting it off because I was waiting until I got the chance to take some sort of writing or composition course that would give me a foundation or concept of what writers do. That was before my soul searching led me to the belief that experts are only opinions of people that we decide to give importance to.

   What we are taught is just someone else's belief. But really, who is to say they are right? Anyway, I now realize that the words right and wrong are all subjective and they depend on the meanings I attach to them and my meaning may be different from someone else. So after thinking about it, I realized that it was pretty scary to put off things because I chose to manipulate my own beliefs to conform to those of someone else. After all, I have always thought of myself as a non-conformist, so I was not  living up to the belief I held about myself. I was actually and quite willingly, conforming to the beliefs and ideals of others instead of my own.

   Though I was not content, I was willing to wallow in my own self-created misery that is until I was struck by something. This feeling was akin to having a huge meteorite strike the earth's ocean and cause a tidal wave (of realization) that washed away all my useless beliefs. Beliefs that were contraindicative to the life I wanted to create and which brought to the surface, thoughts of my parents saying, "there are a lot of broke musicians out there on the street," when I really wanted to study music. I conjured up an image of me being in some big city in the chill of winter (of course, I would have to make it winter, right? I guess for the suffering effect), with no money, ragged clothes, gloves filled with holes, with all my possessions in a shopping cart and living on the street. So with that thought, I quickly nixed the idea. I liked science as well, so I gave in to pursue something more practical (as I was told). I have always been torn with the thought to do something creative, like paint, write music, draw and other stuff like that.

   My new insight allows me to really see how I created that whole (winter) scenario thing, just to justify a decision to myself (and I was not really too happy about the idea at the time). I made a decision that was based on the conjecture of others, without even asking for proof, or quantification.

   So after receiving some wonderful encouragement I said to myself, "I'm still working on my issues of needing approval instead of looking within myself but I'm just starting and getting better at it each passing moment." I thought, why not try to write and I made the decision to go for it, I thought; what would I write about? I don't know if I really have anything to say. All my experiences have caused me to kind of withdraw from people--and I could never write about my thoughts. I am away too private a person for that. So again, I was stuck wondering if it was a good idea or some pipedream, that would be better served buried somewhere.

   I realized that what I was hearing was nothing but my old thoughts, trying to resurrect themselves like a zombie in one of those really bad movies. As my ego tried to pull me back to where I was before, I had a conversation with it (really, I spoke with myself aloud so I could hear what I was saying) I asked myself to let me just try. So I sat down and voila the thoughts just came pouring out onto the paper like hot syrup onto waffles, sweet, good (to me anyway) and interesting. To my surprise I found myself writing about my thoughts, my dreams and desires (something I said I could never do). Reading over what I had written made me look at myself differently. I'm not as boring as I thought, and I have lived through some really wonderful (shall I say) adventures for lack of a better word.

   Maybe no one will ever read what I have written and that is not really important. What s important to me is that I have made one of my dreams come true. I realize that I can do what I thought I could never do and it is really not that hard. So I continue to write about my life my experiences and my thoughts. Maybe one day I will get around to writing about how a brown skinned, blue eyed, blonde after having a dream one night, threw all her stuff in storage and packed her old red Porsche with her necessities (which included her laptop, of course), her two Pomeranians and took off cross-country for Mexico where she did not know a soul or even speak the language. That will be a good one.

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