It rained today. No hiking. Instead I walked into my old campus. It’s funny; when I moved in as a freshman in 2012, it rained; when I graduated last May, it rained; today when I walked my old path from the performing arts building to the English building, it rained. My mom once told me that rain was the universe’s tears. It cried when I arrived: “We’re so happy you’re here.” It cried when I left: “What if we never see you again?” It cried when I returned: “You’re here, and we missed you.” Continue reading “Spring Break 2017, Part Three: “You’re Doing Well””
I slept in and did not go to church today. Instead I spent the morning doing laundry and perusing my friend’s bookshelves. She has seventeen different editions of Peter Pan. I don’t own even one.
Now that I’ve had a decent night’s sleep, I must say I do feel better about being back here. The air feels cleaner in my lungs. The sun, warmer. Even the water of my shower felt lighter. The world is quiet here.
My first voyage out into the world was to the Barnes and Noble a block away from my old campus. During my undergrad, when I was stressed, I’d go there and hide in the stacks for a couple hours and read Buffy the Vampire Slayer comics. At B&N, I bought a book of T. S. Eliot poems, and Virginia Woolf’s Night and Day and Moments of Being. I think most of my money this trip will be spent on books and the theatre. I’m good with that. Continue reading “Spring Break 2017, Part Two: “28 Inches””
Virginia, my home sweet home, I wanna give you a kiss.
It’s quite strange being back in my old town. I’m not sure what feels more foreign–the streets, buildings, faces I pass, or simply the matter of my being here. I’m minding a friend’s loft for the week; her cat recognized me when I walked in, but so far she’s the only creature to do so. I feel entirely out of place here, perhaps even more so than I do out west, but I did just spend the past thirteen hours in my car, besting my personal records for crossing state lines, and becoming more and more stale along the way. So we’ll wait and see how I feel tomorrow and during the rest of the week before putting forth any diagnosis. Continue reading “Spring Break 2017, Part One: “What’d I Miss?””
You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent.
– Alexander Hamilton
I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone. Then this is my life, and maybe, however unlikely, I’ll find my way back there. Or maybe, one day, I’ll settle for second best. And on that same day, Hell will freeze over, the Sun will burn out, and the stars will fall from the sky.
– Lemony Snicket
For someone whose ability to value herself was at one time so steeped in the opinions of others, a creative writing workshop is dangerous territory. Just like with my relationships, I pour myself into my writing. Even if it’s fiction. Talk to me enough and you’ll see it. So when I’m sitting in a workshop and my piece is up for discussion, I’m terrified. After almost five years of being in different levels of workshops for different genres and forms, I still get scared because this piece of writing would not have existed if it weren’t for me. That specific idea existed in my brain and my brain alone, so if I didn’t write it, then it’d die with me. That’s what I mean when I say I pour myself into my work. Every poem, script, or chapter I put on paper is in some way dealing with a past trauma, depression, hardship, loss, etc. It’s all drawing from such a deeply intimate and personal place within me that it’s hard to maintain a healthy distance.
New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.
– Lao Tzu