Distance

I have been cleaning a lot recently. During one of my cleaning sessions I came across my box filled with loose leaf writings. I love to see all of the random thoughts and feelings I have scribbled down over the years and to go back and read them makes me feel like I have actually accomplished something as a writer (or that I am at least on my way to accomplishing something). I have come across partially written poems, writing prompts, free writes, story ideas and random tid bits of feelings that were hastily scrawled onto the piece of paper in the hopes of releasing some of the emotion and capturing it as best I could.

I have decided to be brave and finally share some of my writings with the world. I always used to think that my writings were just silly little bits and pieces of thoughts from a teenage girl that nobody cared to read. But now that I go back and read some of the things I have written, I see that there is some knowledge behind it. Of course, my writing is far from perfect; I will always be learning and growing as a writer. But I think it will be good for me to start sharing my writings. So from time-to-time, I will share some fragments of my writing, old and new, on my blog.

Here is a creative writing prompt that I did last year. I was to write about something ugly – war, fear, hate, cruelty, etc. – but find the beauty (silver lining) in it. I chose to write about Distance. My boyfriend and I were apart at the time and the distance between us was something I was struggling with. And now, a year later, I find myself in the very same situation. So finding this writing prompt was a good reminder for me that beauty can be found in every situation. It is not very long or life changing, but I thought it was worth sharing.

Distance

written: June 3, 2013

Distance can be a hard thing to bear. It tears and separates us and makes us feel the sting of loneliness and heartache. Distance can physically come between two people and also emotionally between them. When distance physically comes between two people, those people can change drastically. This can be extremely painful when the changes become so noticeable and the two people who were once so close, become complete strangers. This is distance at its ugliest.

But there is beauty in distance, a light at the end of a dark tunnel that only two people who truly love each other can see. Distance may tear us apart physically, but that does not mean that we have to be torn apart emotionally. In fact, distance can serve as a time for two people to search themselves and get to know themselves and each other better. If two people really, truly love each other, then distance will bring them closer, not tear them apart. And that is the beautiful thing about distance.

I Left My Heart in New York City

It has been a little over two years now since I went to New York City for my first (and only) time. It seems like it was only yesterday I was there though. I have been longing to go back ever since I left. And now, since I am thinking about that glorious city, I have decided to dedicate a post to it.

Here are a few of my favorite pictures I captured while I was in New York City and some feelings I happened to scribble down two years ago:

Rainy day in the park

Bethesda Terrace

The New York Times

View of the city from the Stanton Island Ferry

Pigeon

The morning rush

Sweet Jazz

Reflection

View of the city from the Stanton Island Ferry

St. Patrick’s Cathedral

View from the New York Public Library

My favorite picture from my trip

Lights, lights every where you look. Some of them flashing, some as still as the night itself. People always surround me here, never seeing the same face twice. People from every race and every nation. Faces of sorrow and hate, of experience and inexperience. Some of these faces look lost; they may know where they are at in the vicinity but they know neither where they are at in life or where they are going. People dressed in all different types of clothes; some in suits, some in heels, others in rags crumpled up on the ground. It amazes me that these people let nothing get in their way. They keep moving in rain or shine because they have to make a living.

The people of the city are so beautiful to me, in their many colored clothes and fancy accessories. Some of them kind, others that act like you’re not there. Old men in the park reading the morning paper, colored men on the side lines filling the air with sweet notes of Jazz. They smile at the people that pass by them and hope that somebody will throw some change into their box.

As funny as it may sound, I think I liked the city best in the mist and rain. The city had an air of mystery and wonder that hung about it in this weather, wonder that made me feel that if I had conquered this city, I could conquer the world. But conquer the world as I might, I did not want to be anywhere but there, in the city that never sleeps. Any store and any kind of food can be found in this glorious city. In this magical city one can travel forwards or backwards in time. It is the one place I have felt nearest to the big Hollywood stars. Standing where Miss Audrey Hepburn stood, walking where Amanda Seyfried walked. Many before them and many more to come after them.

Written: June 2012

The Music and Rhythm of Home

The Music and Rhythm of Home written Dec. 2012

There is a certain theme song that every home has, each one is different and unique in it’s own sound. Most of the time we all tune out the song, thinking that it is nothing more than annoying background noise. But when we actually take the time to stop and listen, we discover the sounds that we have come to know and love; the sounds that bring us security and comfort; the sounds of home.

I especially notice these sounds when I come home for a break after I have been away at college for a few months. The sounds of my dorm room and the sounds of home are quite different in every manner. The sounds that make up the theme song of my house start with tires slowly crunching on the rocks of our red dirt drive way. Then there are the sounds of the animals outside; the hunting dogs begin to bark with excitement; the chickens cluck and crow and there is always a cat or two at the door waiting to be fed. The sound of a car pulling up and a squeaky back door opening announces the arrival of someone. And depending on the tone of Rocky’s (our pomeranian) bark, I can tell if it is dad that is home from work or merely just a visitor.

It is very rare that the theme song ceases to play, for there is hardly ever a dull or quiet moment. There is always my siblings’ voices to be heard, whether in play or argument. And one of the guitars can usually be heard being strummed away. Still, on other days the piano can be heard with it’s lovely melodies floating so sweetly through the air. I can hear mom washing dishes in the kitchen, the low hum of the tv, a video game being played in another room. A cricket chirping in the distance and sometimes if I open my window I can hear the spring frogs chirping outside. These are the sounds I have come to know and love, the music of my home.