If I could have my way, I wouldn’t be where I am.
I would be sitting along a clean, blue shore, feeling the salt gather on my skin and brushing strands of hair away from my face.
I would be walking along a rushing river, listening to the water splash against rocks and logs. Barefoot, avoiding anthills hidden in tall grass.
I would be miles and miles above the earth. Looking at the top of cotton candy clouds, dreaming of walking among them.
I would be teetering on the edge of the horizon, watching the sun melt in colors of pink, orange and turquoise. The heat slowly dying.
I would be far away from city lights that illuminate even the darkest nights. And lying on my back, look up to see millions of stars looking back at me.
I would be running through endless fields my only guide being inconstant fireflies.
I would be worlds away from where I am, at my cold desk, looking at a screen that can merely show me glimpses of the joy I wish to take in.
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
When there is nothing to write about...
post something you wrote a long time ago. This was written when I first moved to Columbia. I was living at a place that I greatly disliked. One day it snowed and it was so beautiful. This is what came out of that day. Of course, it is a fiction piece, but it evokes the emotions felt during that time.
I danced in the rain today. I threw out my arms and twirled around like I used to do when I was a little girl. I tilted my face towards the sky and closed my eyes, letting the icy rain tingle and run down. I knew that my mascara would run and that passerby’s would point and shake their heads at my wet clothes and stringy hair that quickly plastered itself to my face. I didn’t care. I was free. I was free from something that I didn’t want to be free from but nonetheless, I was free. And in this moment, it seemed as if God was crying. Cold, harsh and heavy tears; shed just for me and me alone as if to say that He knew my pain; that I was not alone. But I was.
Then the rain turned into snow and I stopped dancing. I looked in awe at the frozen rain that rarely falls in this humid state. I let it drop delicately in my hair and set on the edges of my eyelashes until it dissolved and was no more. Over and over tiny flakes set upon me and the ground; enveloping me in hope and white purity. I smiled and my heart was filled with warmth. I wanted to call out to everyone and tell them of the snow and the beauty that it was bringing. I called. But no one answered. I knocked on doors and screamed for them to come outside and see the wonder that God was pouring out on us. No one came. So I sat on the ground upon a pillow of snow and cried. Wishing my tears would freeze and fall slowly to the ground.
I danced in the rain today. I threw out my arms and twirled around like I used to do when I was a little girl. I tilted my face towards the sky and closed my eyes, letting the icy rain tingle and run down. I knew that my mascara would run and that passerby’s would point and shake their heads at my wet clothes and stringy hair that quickly plastered itself to my face. I didn’t care. I was free. I was free from something that I didn’t want to be free from but nonetheless, I was free. And in this moment, it seemed as if God was crying. Cold, harsh and heavy tears; shed just for me and me alone as if to say that He knew my pain; that I was not alone. But I was.
Then the rain turned into snow and I stopped dancing. I looked in awe at the frozen rain that rarely falls in this humid state. I let it drop delicately in my hair and set on the edges of my eyelashes until it dissolved and was no more. Over and over tiny flakes set upon me and the ground; enveloping me in hope and white purity. I smiled and my heart was filled with warmth. I wanted to call out to everyone and tell them of the snow and the beauty that it was bringing. I called. But no one answered. I knocked on doors and screamed for them to come outside and see the wonder that God was pouring out on us. No one came. So I sat on the ground upon a pillow of snow and cried. Wishing my tears would freeze and fall slowly to the ground.
Monday, June 13, 2011
A challenge
I was given a challenge. And I, in my opinion, succeeded.
I present my first designed and executed brochure. While I didn't create the content, I did gather it :)
Click on the link below to see the brochure made for our Drug and Addiction Studies program at the College of Social Work.
Drug and Addiction Brochure
I present my first designed and executed brochure. While I didn't create the content, I did gather it :)
Click on the link below to see the brochure made for our Drug and Addiction Studies program at the College of Social Work.
Drug and Addiction Brochure
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
A Published Work
I have nothing to write about today. Rather, I don't feel like writing so I am going to post one of my older pieces.
This work was written after a date with a guy that I had been seeing on and off since I was 13. I met him at the skating rink and we dated for a bit. You know how young "love" goes. Over the next eight years we would talk, on and off. We would get together and hang out, go to pool halls, hang out at his friends' houses.
This was one of those nights.The night I realized I was wasting my time, my life and my integrity. Everything that night was very vivid and while this story is fiction, some of the imagery and events have a truth.
I was very embarrassed by this story for the longest time. In 2006, I submitted this story to one of my professors at Coastal Carolina University and he urged me to submit it to the literary/art magazine, Archarios. The submission deadline had passed so I didn't see a point but he persisted and after a few phone calls it was submitted.
This piece ended up taking first place in literary works for the magazine. I was surprised, to say the least. It is amazing, though, how God works things like that out. I was about to leave to go on a mission trip to Africa and needed some extra funds in order to go. The prize for first place was $200 and it was greatly appreciated.
Above the cash prize was the honor of having a published work. I have never had a creative piece published and while it was on a small-scale, I still felt like I had accomplished something huge (especially after reading the words of the other authors that had written for that magazine. Incredible talent.)
I will give a disclaimer that there may be some inappropriate wording...be warned :)
So without further adieu.....
Gone
I arrive at your car. The walk consisted of a series of nervous fidgets and sideways glances that keep me from looking at you. I get in and make sure that I shut the door in a lady-like manner, thinking that you care. I reach for the seatbelt...my fingers never grasp it and I know it is not there because it is cool not to wear seatbelts so why have them. Yet I keep reaching trying to find something that will save me from you. You start the car and my ears no longer work. I look at you and your lips are moving but no sound comes out. You are drowned out by the beats and turntables of the little box under your dash. So I smile and laugh and pretend I heard everything you said. You smile back and grab the gear shift and we are gone.
I stare out the window looking past the tiny wet bubbles that ambush the window and distorts everything on the outside world. These new glasses that I am looking through make the road lights look like stars and I cannot tell a difference between the two. I look over at you and cross my legs. I move them slightly closer to the center console hoping you will notice and lay your hand on my knee. Of course you don't so I take it personal and again look out the window into this new vague world. You turn the music down and say something about stopping to get cigarettes and I say "yeah cool". But it isn't cool. I hate cigarettes and the way they make you smell. Especially when you kiss someone…yeah…like I am going to get a kiss from you.
It takes you a second to turn the volume dial back up to 11 and another second to pull into the BP. You leave the car running as you run into the gas station to get your cigarettes. I watch as you tell the clerk what you want and you laugh together and then look out at me and wink. I see your mouth form the words "Thanks man" and you turn and walk out the door. I take a deep breath and brace myself for when you enter the car. I put my best southern belle smile on so you will think I am having a great time with you so far.
When we are back on the road you pack your cigs then ask me to open them and light you one up. So I do…the taste of the cigarette bitter in my mouth. I then have the urge to kiss you, to make you taste me. I refrain and hold back a cough and hand the cigarette back to you. My eyes are watering from the smoke and you look at me and ask if I am alright. The southern belle smile returns and I nod yes and say something witty about how my contacts are bothering me. You know I don't wear contacts.
So we are driving to a little bar and the whole time I am worried that I won't be able to get in seeing as how I am 20 and underage. You always know someone who will get me in and they don't care if I drink. We park and go in and of course you know someone and that someone gives us a pitcher of beer and we set up at a vacant pool table. We play a few rounds…flirting with each other over beer fumes and cigarette smoke. I bend over to make a shot and your stick magically appears to hit my backside and I turn around with the same flashy smile and bat my eyes and hope that you see I am tipsy. So I make my shot and miss and I say something cute about not being able to handle balls. I play with my cup of beer while you are making your shot and take a long sloppy drink and act like it is water. Guys always say that beer starts to taste like water after a few drinks…I still do not believe them. You make a few shots and get all of the balls. There is nothing left on the table except the white. It looks so pure an innocent with little hints of blue just like me.
You get tired of playing the "pointless" game and make your way over to the dart board. Bullseye. You do not ask me to follow so I stand there looking around for an escape feeling awkward in my own skin. I catch your eye and you give me a nod as to say, "Get over here". So I waddle over acting as if I'm fine. But you see the glassiness of my eyes and you know if you work hard…that you will get what you want.
This work was written after a date with a guy that I had been seeing on and off since I was 13. I met him at the skating rink and we dated for a bit. You know how young "love" goes. Over the next eight years we would talk, on and off. We would get together and hang out, go to pool halls, hang out at his friends' houses.
This was one of those nights.The night I realized I was wasting my time, my life and my integrity. Everything that night was very vivid and while this story is fiction, some of the imagery and events have a truth.
I was very embarrassed by this story for the longest time. In 2006, I submitted this story to one of my professors at Coastal Carolina University and he urged me to submit it to the literary/art magazine, Archarios. The submission deadline had passed so I didn't see a point but he persisted and after a few phone calls it was submitted.
This piece ended up taking first place in literary works for the magazine. I was surprised, to say the least. It is amazing, though, how God works things like that out. I was about to leave to go on a mission trip to Africa and needed some extra funds in order to go. The prize for first place was $200 and it was greatly appreciated.
Above the cash prize was the honor of having a published work. I have never had a creative piece published and while it was on a small-scale, I still felt like I had accomplished something huge (especially after reading the words of the other authors that had written for that magazine. Incredible talent.)
I will give a disclaimer that there may be some inappropriate wording...be warned :)
So without further adieu.....
Gone
I arrive at your car. The walk consisted of a series of nervous fidgets and sideways glances that keep me from looking at you. I get in and make sure that I shut the door in a lady-like manner, thinking that you care. I reach for the seatbelt...my fingers never grasp it and I know it is not there because it is cool not to wear seatbelts so why have them. Yet I keep reaching trying to find something that will save me from you. You start the car and my ears no longer work. I look at you and your lips are moving but no sound comes out. You are drowned out by the beats and turntables of the little box under your dash. So I smile and laugh and pretend I heard everything you said. You smile back and grab the gear shift and we are gone.
I stare out the window looking past the tiny wet bubbles that ambush the window and distorts everything on the outside world. These new glasses that I am looking through make the road lights look like stars and I cannot tell a difference between the two. I look over at you and cross my legs. I move them slightly closer to the center console hoping you will notice and lay your hand on my knee. Of course you don't so I take it personal and again look out the window into this new vague world. You turn the music down and say something about stopping to get cigarettes and I say "yeah cool". But it isn't cool. I hate cigarettes and the way they make you smell. Especially when you kiss someone…yeah…like I am going to get a kiss from you.
It takes you a second to turn the volume dial back up to 11 and another second to pull into the BP. You leave the car running as you run into the gas station to get your cigarettes. I watch as you tell the clerk what you want and you laugh together and then look out at me and wink. I see your mouth form the words "Thanks man" and you turn and walk out the door. I take a deep breath and brace myself for when you enter the car. I put my best southern belle smile on so you will think I am having a great time with you so far.
When we are back on the road you pack your cigs then ask me to open them and light you one up. So I do…the taste of the cigarette bitter in my mouth. I then have the urge to kiss you, to make you taste me. I refrain and hold back a cough and hand the cigarette back to you. My eyes are watering from the smoke and you look at me and ask if I am alright. The southern belle smile returns and I nod yes and say something witty about how my contacts are bothering me. You know I don't wear contacts.
So we are driving to a little bar and the whole time I am worried that I won't be able to get in seeing as how I am 20 and underage. You always know someone who will get me in and they don't care if I drink. We park and go in and of course you know someone and that someone gives us a pitcher of beer and we set up at a vacant pool table. We play a few rounds…flirting with each other over beer fumes and cigarette smoke. I bend over to make a shot and your stick magically appears to hit my backside and I turn around with the same flashy smile and bat my eyes and hope that you see I am tipsy. So I make my shot and miss and I say something cute about not being able to handle balls. I play with my cup of beer while you are making your shot and take a long sloppy drink and act like it is water. Guys always say that beer starts to taste like water after a few drinks…I still do not believe them. You make a few shots and get all of the balls. There is nothing left on the table except the white. It looks so pure an innocent with little hints of blue just like me.
You get tired of playing the "pointless" game and make your way over to the dart board. Bullseye. You do not ask me to follow so I stand there looking around for an escape feeling awkward in my own skin. I catch your eye and you give me a nod as to say, "Get over here". So I waddle over acting as if I'm fine. But you see the glassiness of my eyes and you know if you work hard…that you will get what you want.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
On writing...
Writing used to be a hobby of mine. One that brought much creativity and joy to my life. Over the past couple of years my pen has barely scratched a piece of paper with letters of meaning. I have come to a point in my life where I am not quite sure where my joys lie, besides in Christ.
I have had many hobbies over the years, writing, sewing, a brief stint of knitting, acting, backstage hand, piano...the list goes on. While many of these I have enjoyed and proved to be quite good at I wasn't passionate about any of them. In an endeavor to find a passion, I have begun reading my writings of old. Some of them make me jerk back in disgust thinking, "what was I thinking when I wrote that?" while others bring back fond memories of sitting on the front porch with paper and pen in hand, the breeze gently brushing my face.
Here is one of those writings, written during a Creative Writing class at Coastal Carolina University. I don't remember what prompted this piece but I do remember reading it in front of the class, feeling proud and accomplished. It is untitled, written in 2007.
And they come and go like seasons,
Coming in and out, changing the way
Life is viewed and decisions are made.
People.
And you, bright tranquility that
Contains me in rain showers and mud puddles,
Splashing in endless new life and bliss.
Spring.
And raging forth in the sun,
You dance along the aqua coast,
Beckoning me to follow the lines of salt.
Summer.
And the tragic beauty of browns and red,
Leave you bare and naked,
Taking your dignity and hope
Fall.
And on the brink of freezing,
You lie on the cold hard earth,
Frozen, staring into the black.
Winter
Yet who are you? Season of mine,
that breaks between the saltiness of summer
and death of winter. You are middle ground
and I say to you: pass me by; leave me here.
On this sandy shore to mock
the seagulls that land and stay.Never migrating though the cold is near.
Source
I have had many hobbies over the years, writing, sewing, a brief stint of knitting, acting, backstage hand, piano...the list goes on. While many of these I have enjoyed and proved to be quite good at I wasn't passionate about any of them. In an endeavor to find a passion, I have begun reading my writings of old. Some of them make me jerk back in disgust thinking, "what was I thinking when I wrote that?" while others bring back fond memories of sitting on the front porch with paper and pen in hand, the breeze gently brushing my face.
Here is one of those writings, written during a Creative Writing class at Coastal Carolina University. I don't remember what prompted this piece but I do remember reading it in front of the class, feeling proud and accomplished. It is untitled, written in 2007.
And they come and go like seasons,
Coming in and out, changing the way
Life is viewed and decisions are made.
People.
And you, bright tranquility that
Contains me in rain showers and mud puddles,
Splashing in endless new life and bliss.
Spring.
And raging forth in the sun,
You dance along the aqua coast,
Beckoning me to follow the lines of salt.
Summer.
And the tragic beauty of browns and red,
Leave you bare and naked,
Taking your dignity and hope
Fall.
And on the brink of freezing,
You lie on the cold hard earth,
Frozen, staring into the black.
Winter
Yet who are you? Season of mine,
that breaks between the saltiness of summer
and death of winter. You are middle ground
and I say to you: pass me by; leave me here.
On this sandy shore to mock
the seagulls that land and stay.Never migrating though the cold is near.
Source
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