inspired by a newspaper

it's the golden hour. you know, the time of day when the sun washes everything in gold? it's that time. i watch elle's bike weave back and forth on the wide open street in front of me. her path reflects the way she lives her life, swerving and crossing back and forth, touching people's lives and then lurching away as fast as she's come. elle tips her head back and closes her eyes, letting the sun cast over her careless smile. that's how she is. careless. crashing into lives and veering away, leaving them to clean up the destruction she's left in her wake. and here i am, a few feet back, watching. it isn't her fault. it's just who she is. she's chaos. she's magnetic. she makes you feel like maybe you're going to be the one who can finally hold her down. she makes you feel like you're the special one, holding your stare with her wild, hypnotic eyes. she makes you believe it. i don't think anyone that's loved elle has regretted it. she embeds herself into your mind, your body, so that you start molding yourself around her, until she disappears, called by her wandering mind, leaving your empty shell of a self. but you don't regret it. you thank her for making you the way you are. because even a little bit of elle is worth it.

a conversation about the sun

The sun shone, having no alternative, on nothing new.
"Do you ever wonder if the sun gets sad?"
"What?" Cody, my best friend, propped himself up onto his elbows on the hillside we had collapsed onto. 
"You know, don't you think it gets tired of rising and shining on the same old things every day? I bet sometimes it wants to stop shining." I squinted up at the sun, its consistent beating suddenly saddening. 
Cory sat silently for a minute, considering. "I guess," he said. "Don't you ever get tired of living?" 
I nod, rolling over onto my side to face him. "Yeah, but not when I have something to live for."
"Or someone," Cody added. "I bet the sun has someone."
"I bet the sun is someone," I corrected. 
"You think so?"
"It's got to be. Think of all the things that were so gravitated by the sun that they placed it at the very center of their orbits."
"That's a nice thought. Maybe the sun isn't as lonely as we had thought," Cody confirmed, resting his head back on the ground and closing his eyes to the golden, now happy, light. 
"Yes," I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?"

The sun shone, having no alternative, on nothing new.
Samuel Beckett (1906-1989) in Murphy (1938)

This novel is about a man named Murphy who lives in London and is constantly trying to will himself into nonexistence. He begins working at a mental hospital. The patients' conditions are comforting to him. The novel follows him and his interactions with random odd people until his eventual demise. I don't think I would read this because although I enjoy reading darker material, I don't think I could handle reading hopeless material, which is basically what this is, as you can tell from the quote.

"Yes," I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?" 
Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) in The Sun Also Rises (1926) 

This book is about a man, Jake, and the woman he loves, Lady Brett Ashley. It's basically a huge messy love circle involving Jake, his friend, Brett's fiance, this random guy, and a 19 year old matador. They laugh, they fight, they get drunk, and generally make a mess of things. I'm not sure I would ever read this because Brett sounds like Daisy from The Great Gatsby and I can't stand her. I also can't deal with big messy love circles because the drama of them is too tiring and I honestly don't care too much to hear about it. 

future

one interesting thing from our visit to 417 magazine was the different processes they go through as far as page design and pictures. it's cool to see how it starts with small ideas and stock images and then ends up with real pictures from photo shoots they have, arranged with the final font and page design. another interesting thing was seeing how much they have going on all at once. although we only get a magazine every couple weeks, they're consistently working on multiple issues at a time. a third thing i found interesting was hearing about peoples' different jobs based on their positions. i liked seeing all that goes into making the magazine what it is and all the options that are available for different areas of interests. 

one question i have is if they ever find any mistakes after the publication of the issue. 

if i had to work for any magazine it'd be cosmo. that would be my dream job. i love the values that are stressed in cosmo, as well as the feminism, body positivity, and acceptance that their writers all believe in. 

in one year i'd like to be doing well in college, finding my thing, and figuring out what i specifically want to major in. in 5 years i hope to be graduated from college and getting a start on my career, whether it's in an internship or a job that i actually plan on keeping for the rest of my life. in 10 years, 50 years, and on it's impossible to tell what i'll be like or where i'll be in my life. i just hope i'm happy and i make other people happy. that's all. 

six word memoirs

for me:

"i don't know who i am"

"nothing less than i love you"

"located in your nearest coffee house"

for my family and friends:

"we will always laugh and cry together"

"you will do such great things"

"don't pretend you don't love me"

"i promise i won't disappoint you"

for my idols:

"how did you get to here?"

"thank you for always being there"

"you made me think about everything"

quotes

there is love in the details,
the water rising over ankle bones,
the sleeve rolled, once and over again,
hanging on above the elbow, asking
to be pushed up higher when it falls.
stand here in the sea spray,
where the waves gain warmth
and we lose it, i am proud
that you own me in ways 
i never bothered to be self conscious
of. light is falling on the surface
of the waters, on the surfaces
of us. 
-tyler knott gregson

i am not sure if i ever had a soul before i loved you. i had a heart and a mind but that's all i was, i felt and thought wrong or right but never deeply and never dangerously.
-vaZaki nada

do not fall in love with people like me. i will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. i will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. and when i leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people. 
-caitlyn siehl

the only thing
i knew,
is that i
was a second,
and she
was eternity.
i spun in 
clocks 
and she swirled 
in stars and
i,
i did not
deserve her.
-christopher poindexter

memorable quote

"If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days."

-Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

i think the reason i like this quote so much is because i identify so fully with it. i can't make decisions to save my life. i hate drive-thrus with a passion for just that reason. once i get to the speaker i panic, making a rash decision, which i immediately regret. if i never had to make another decision ever, i'd be perfectly okay with that. sadly, i don't think that's ever going to happen. i will be stuck going back and forth from one thing to another for the rest of my life, but i guess that's okay. i also like how this passage shows what a contradiction that esther, the main character is. seeing how she is this way makes me feel a little better about how i am myself. i'll be in the same boat as sylvia plath, neurotic as hell and unable to figure out what i want. but, like, a happy neurotic. 

pillow talk

i gently lay my tired, aching body onto my bed, flopping my head onto a welcoming pillow. a sigh presses through my lips, and i close my eyes as i let my body relax. i thank my loving bed for holding me to its comforting body. shadows flicker across my ceiling as headlights pass, and i let my eyes move with them. i breathe. in. calm, content, happy. out. stress, worry, anger. i let my emotions slip out of my body like grains of sand through cupped hands. blankets provide me with a safe cocoon from the world outside. i slowly drift out of consciousness.
i am running, or trying to run. i feel like the air before me is too thick for me to go through. i press against it as hard as i can, but i am still running too slow. i need to go faster. i look down at my feet, realizing i don't know how to run. i stumble around on my uncoordinated legs, trying to get them to cooperate. they won't. they feel detached, part of someone else, not me. i can't control them, i can't control anything. the harder i run, the more i stumble. i fall in slow motion. i pick myself back up on wobbly legs. try again. i push off the ground with my feet, but i can't gain any momentum. i can't even remember why i'm running now, but it doesn't matter. i just know i have to go. i push my heavy feet off the ground one more time before tripping headfirst into a consuming darkness.

writers as readers

1
when i read, i need to be comfortable. that usually replies a large amount of blankets and a very warm room with low lighting, just enough to easily see what i'm reading. i tend to be siting up straight with my legs slightly bent so that i can prop my book on my thighs. often, i do need to be eating a snack, or more commonly, drinking hot tea.
2
i think realistic fiction is the most appealing genre to me, because it could actually be possible. what happens in those books could actually happen, or could actually have happened to someone. it's nice to think of my little piece of fiction becoming a reality.
6
i assume my first reading teachers were my parents, but i honestly don't remember them ever teaching me. all i remember is that when my brother and i were little, my parents would read to us out of Laura Ingalls Wilder books before we went to bed. i don't remember a lot about my childhood, but i do remember how my brother and i were always extremely excited to listen to our parents recite them to us. 
11
when i write, i really only envision the reader to be me, or someone like me. i guess my top priority when writing is to write something that i myself would like to read. having a reader in my mind definitely sways the type of writing i do and what happens in that writing. i want to write something that if i read it i would be fascinated by. if i don't love it, i don't want to write about it. for me, writing is all about myself and what makes me happy. i don't think there is a difference between writing for myself and knowing other people will read it. if i'm writing for myself, then i know that when other people read it i will be proud of and stand my ground for every idea that i have in that particular piece of writing. i am my toughest critic, and if i approve of my writing, then i have no doubt that other people will approve as well. if they don't, i don't care, because my own approval is the only approval i need. 
12
i think reading and writing go hand in hand. if you read a lot, you are exposed much more often to different writing styles, words, sentence structures, ideas, etc. if you begin to read a lot, it's probably going to be impossible for your reading not to improve. i definitely think the books we read have a big influence on how we write, even if we don't notice that it does. we're picking up on things we like and dislike unconsciously, and translating that into our own work.

dream threads

the man stopped in the middle of the road, and started walking toward us. henry and i glanced at each other uneasily, both wondering what he could possibly want. the man walked steadily forward, slowly drawing closer to where we stood. he kept his eyes on us, never breaking his stare. his footsteps echoed through the empty neighborhood, feet scuffling against cracked asphalt. i reflexively took a step back, stumbling away from the mysterious man. henry stepped back with me, but our eyes never left our pursuer. the man's pace quickened, his worn brown trench coat lifting in the wind to reveal equally tattered boots. henry called out to him, trying to suppress the fear in his voice. "hey," he wavered, "what do you want?" the man said nothing. i was getting a very bad feeling about this. suddenly, the man broke into a run. henry grabbed my arm, hauling me toward a vacant house a couple hundred meters away. "come on!" he yelled, breathlessly dragging my body behind him. i finally recovered from my frozen state, and we stumbled up the rotting porch steps into the desolate house. i stole a glance over my shoulder and my heart lept in my chest. the man was right behind us. henry and i struggled to close the heavy wooden door. i reached to close the lock, fumbling with the latch. either the lock just kept turning and wouldn't latch, or the door wouldn't meet the door frame and there was a huge gap, making it impossible to lock. we struggled for a few more seconds but it was no use. he was here now. 

what i know

i don't know why bad things happen to good people,
i don't know why good people do bad things. 
i don't know why it hurts so much to love
or why people love to hurt.
i don't understand why i miss you so much even when you're standing right next to me, 
why i love your stupid jokes and stupid hair and stupid laugh. 
i don't know why we go running back to the people who hurt us
or why we can't stop loving those who don't love us back. 
i don't know why life is so unfair,
or when the pain will stop,
but i do know that we can't stop loving just because someone stops loving us.
so don't try to stop.
keep loving. 

if i were in charge of the world

if i were in charge of the world
i'd cancel discrimination,
stereotypes,
hate, and also
anything before 9 a.m.

if i were in charge of the world
there'd be more love,
more rainy days, and
always someone to cuddle with.

if i were in charge of the world
you wouldn't have schedules, 
you wouldn't have math class,
you wouldn't have limitations.
or "you've had all week to get this done."
you wouldn't even have deadlines. 

if i were in charge of the world 
a plate of stuffed french toast from 
IHOP would be a vegetable. 
all animals would have homes.
and a person who sometimes forgot their homework
and sometimes forgot to smile
would still be allowed to be 
in charge of the world.