I struggled again today. My emotions guided me, while my true self sat back and watched. In short, I disappointed myself. It would be as I counseled a friend over his worries, that I admit my own vulnerability. ‘Passion’ is the title I believe the sensation most deserves. Ubiquitous and unique, passion is a person’s lens, their fingerprint. To me, I fear that I found what I liked because I learned how to look. My siblings are neither looking nor learning how. Learning abhors a ‘post-literate’ population in times of quarantines and back-lit screens.
I feel the concern my mother has for her youth. Certainly, its breadth and depth elude me, but I’m not happy seeing my younger brother and sister take turns pushing a joystick and watching a screen. Yet ‘school bites’ and ‘I hate reading’ are some of the catchphrases I get from two kids who ask but do not investigate. Numerous times, my sister asks a question but refuses to look online with me. She’d rather not. I read about how one’s older son taught himself things, and I pore over photography, but mom’s frustration that they’re not engaged misses that all that’s missing is the right engagement, or so I think.
While I existentially battle the will and motivations of adolescent youth, matters of great importance do shine brilliantly. I am adamant about my family and their happiness. My own happiness, photography, and the related activities are also significant. A healthy rivalry is good for growth, I’ve learned. I would revise it for passion, though it worries me that my siblings’ disposition may be someone else’s. So while I found my desire early, I participated actively in things to harbor it. I read, write, and want to understand things I don’t. All this quarantine time with screens is preventing spread of one disease, not others.
