My Own Deadline

What does it take to write something moving, mesmerizing, powerful, and beautiful?  It’s a recipe of inspiration, motivation, determination, a Thesaurus, some inner monologues that go something like: well I like this paragraph, but I don’t know if it really belongs here, but then I’d have to change that last sentence, and actually this character’s name should be changed, and I don’t know if that fragment is helping, etc; a few tears, memories, frustration, and tons and tons of editing.

I hate to confess, but I haven’t been motivated to write.  I’ve been inspired; I’m always inspired to write.  I’m reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, and her conversational tone urges me to write.  I’m also reading Lucy Howard Taylor’s book, Biting Anorexia and her well crafted prose insist I grab a pen.  The time I have on my hands; the hours I have to myself, practically taunt me into opening a new Word Document.  But, I don’t.  I haven’t.

How can I claim the title of a writer if I don’t execute?  I wrote all quarter long, editing essays, typing up stories, I even wrote a poem one night.  I’m so used to deadlines telling me when and what to write.  Those deadlines have been lifted for my break, and all of a sudden the freedom to write leaves my mind a little scattered.  Evident in the fact that I’m reading three different books, and a magazine.  In the shower, I’ve created so many little snippets of future works, but nothing coherent and complete.  My energy hasn’t gone into writing.  It’s gone into the paintings I’ve made for friends for Christmas gifts; it’s gone into the 12 handwritten letters I’ve sent, it’s gone into the workouts I get up and do each morning, it’s gone into the books I’m reading.  And that’s okay, we all need a respite.

HOWEVER, just to stay on track, I’d like to share some snippets I have written that I’m fond of:

Your teeth as white as notebook paper.

Fill my lungs with ice.

My frozen breath shall lay

heavy on your chest.

Maybe I can save face through the mangled sentences I fabricate.

I’ve been picking apart my skin.

Hoping you would listen.

My flesh begs to be seen.

But I’m not just a body.

The secretion of words.

Do you know what I said?

Can you repeat my secrets?

What thought is locked in my head?

You’re speechless again.

The piano keys remind me of teeth.

Gnawing, grinding chomping on my heart strings.

This emaciated melody isn’t enough.

With that said, here’s my own personal deadline.  Before the new year arrives, I WILL write something, completely for myself.  Whether it be a short story or a poem, most likely the latter, but I will do it because I don’t like to lie, and this blog is all about life and truth, so thusly.  And for the new year, I’ll share it, so be sure to keep reading!

Sophomore Year

I think one of the best feelings is knowing that you picked the right college for you.  If you think about it, it’s not merely a huge decision; rather, it’s a life changing, mature and all encompassing, overwhelming decision.  For the next four years, one needs to pick a home that you feel connected to.  You have to consider location, academics, clubs, things to do, dorms, crime rates, and a plethora of other factors.  And sure, some things out weigh others, but if one factor disrupts your semester or year or what have you; your college experience may be unenjoyable and then you could be left floundering about to transfer.  Choosing a college is intimidating and a bit frightening.

 

For me, I realized that I picked the college that suits me best because after coming home for the summer, I couldn’t wait to go back to school.  And now that I’m finally moved in and settled and awaiting classes to begin, I am so overcome with joy.  And I feel so lucky to be at the college I’m at: enjoying every moment, pursuing my passions, and taking advantage of various opportunities.  I wouldn’t change a thing.

 

And even though, I may not be rooming with a close friend, and I still don’t have my car with me, and I don’t get to eat organic and all natural foods at every meal; I am living the dream.  So, sophomore year, HERE I COME!