Reason #6: The New and Old Relationships

Relationships must be reciprocated in order to form a long lasting bond. Therefore, those involved in the relationship both have to want it. That goes for all types of relationships: familial, friends, romantic, work, etc.

Growing up, you make a lot of different types of relationships, but you also lose some too. You learn to trust and at the same time you learn that people can betray you. Others can love you, while some break your heart. And the rest simply come and go. Nonetheless, all of the people that enter and exit your life make an impact on you.

"A Certain Lady" by Dorothy Parker

I'm currently working on a short paper about this poem. I decided to post it on my blog, because I'm sure everyone can relate.

A Certain Lady

Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You'll never know.

Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, --
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me -- marveling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go ....
And what goes on, my love, while you're away,
You'll never know.

When it ends...

You finish reading a book and put it to the side, only to pick up another on your bedside table. Different names, but the same characters. Different titles, but the same stories. You run a mile, to simply run another. And another, until you've finished a half-marathon; but only to drive home to shower then sleep. When you wake up, you linger awhile longer in bed, wondering if this is the day.

The day everything changes. The day your career begins. The day you meet someone who understands what you're going through. The day you fall in love. The day where it all ends.

You throw your blankets to the side, get up, get dressed, and push away the thoughts in your mind that hang like a spider's forgotten web. The thoughts about your stagnant life, because that's all you've known. So why think of the day where it changes?

Stasis is better right?

Better than the nights you've spent hearing the screams down the hallway. Better than the days that were all lies. Better than the moments spent believing in broken promises.

You pick up another book, but you don't finish it. You place it in an empty box. The books unread accumulate. You tape the box, and grab another. And another, until you're in a room filled with boxes. You run without measuring the distance. You run until it's too hard to breathe. Then you walk home, gasping for air. You collapse into bed, too tired to shower, but eager to fall into another reality. When you wake up, you linger awhile in bed, and decide that this is the day.

The day everything changes. The day you start living again. The day where stasis ends.

You make your bed and fold your blankets, noticing what a difference it makes to the appearance of your room. You get dressed, make your favorite breakfast, and push away all of the yesterdays like they were all a distant memory. You're tired of the stagnant life, because that's all you've ever known. Might as well do something new.

Living is better right?

Better than the nights spent alone reading. Better than the days running to pass the time. Better than the moments spent thinking of the past.

You get into your car and drive. Drive towards your career. Drive towards someone. Drive towards love. Drive towards this changing day.

Reason #6: Education, Creative Writing, and James Franco

I am literally shaking right now. Maybe it’s from having four cups of coffee (when I usually just have one or two a day) or maybe I’m having an epiphany. My mind is racing, that I can’t keep track of all of my thoughts. I’m sure that it will show in this post, since this won’t have any logical order. It’ll just be pure thought. Stream of consciousness? Probably so. Virgina Woolf, it seems you have rubbed off on me. I can’t get out of my head it seems.

Another reason to live? Education. Doing something/majoring in something you love. I know I complain a lot about school. I want to be done with it like all of my friends who are just a year older than me (if I was only born one year sooner!!!!), but I’m not. I should take advantage of my last year and make the most of it. I had a midterm today about 20^th century writers and theory; after studying about all these dead writers, I realized I wanted to be one of them. Not dead, obviously. But a writer who matters. Who did something. Was a part of something. Anything. I always say I HOPE to be a writer, never having faith in myself or my abilities; but today I thought to myself, I WILL be a writer. I may not be the best, but damn I have a story to tell, and someone’s going to want to listen. I will be published, and if someone is moved by what I wrote, then that is success to me. That’s a life lived if I made someone’s life a little bit better by my words.

This week I’ve been constantly thinking about the future. Daydreaming and hoping. Well that’s enough of that, I’m gonna make it into a reality. Just you wait. For a while I wondered if I could really do it, write all my life… I thought of the long process of writing and editing, all the heartbreak that I would endure being rejected… but yes, I want it. All of that. The heartbreak, long hours of writes and rewrites. Words are eternal. I’m gonna get my words down.

I’ll have my own studio and library to create my books with big open windows… Yeah, I will.

So what brought this on? Well I’ve been obsessed with James Franco. Like seriously obsessed. My role models have always been my family: my mom and my sisters for all their strength and support; but now that I have committed myself wholeheartedly to writing, I had the urge to find a role model for my career. Which is…. JAMES FRANCO. He seriously does everything. I want to do that too. I won’t limit myself to just writing. I’ll do it all. Screen writing, directing, art. I admire his passion for education. It reminds me that I am lucky to learn. The grade doesn’t matter, only the knowledge that I get from the class. I don’t need a 4.0 GPA to write. I need to live life in order to write.  I want to and I am going to live life. I'll be the female version of James Franco (without the acting part).

One day James Franco, we’ll have coffee and discuss books, movies, music, literature, everything. We will be talked about when we die. We’ll make an impact. 

I love my major. Seriously. Writers are so cool and interesting, not to mention we’re just so weird in an awesome way.

I think of all the people I’ve met in class this past year and I realized… We are the next generation. Let’s fuck shit up (in a good way) and change the world. I may never see these people again, but knowing them for a little bit has changed my life. I want to remember everyone. Like Nich, one of the US bank protesters who gave me a hug right after we met (no one does that much anymore, I wish people did; and he totally looked like Will from Parachute), Olivia who I met this quarter in Telemark (having a good conversation, telling me about the senior thesis, and about herself), even the guy Orion who’s in all of my classes (who I find pretty intriguing), and everyone in my workshop class, like Summer, Ceaser, Ted, Lindsey, and Katie (to just name a few). Best of luck to all of us.

Now the most important thing: I’ve finally found a story idea for my first book. Something that I will commit to (not like all my other stories where I write a few pages and quit). The whole story idea came to me today in bits and pieces as I was running during my workout and walking to the ARC for a work meeting. I need a story board STAT!!!!

Life is amazing. And no, I’m not on drugs right now. :]

#4 The Dancing Miracle (100 Word Short Story)

Jamie was a beautiful girl who loved to dance. She hoped to dance on stage one day to show her love for dance with her friends and family. She joined a dance troupe to make her dream into a reality. A month before her performance, she got into a car accident. She survived, but the doctors thought she would not be able to walk or dance again. Still, she hoped for that one day on stage despite what they told her. Two years later, she got onto that stage and danced. No one could take their eyes off of her.

*This 100 word short story was inspired by Jackie Garayar.

Reason #4: Drunken Nights With Good Company

Those nights when your inhibitions are gone and you feel completely free; granted you are a bit tipsy. I must say I still am, but I wanted to write this while I was under the influence. There's some type of magical appeal to it. Your floating. No, you're flying. Maybe things will go your way for once. Maybe you'll meet someone you can connect with. The world seems so peaceful that you just want to dance and celebrate. Surrounded by friends, good energy, and a good time...

A wonderful night. Simple as that. Just go with it.

Reason #3: Flowers

We see them so often we take them for granted, but flowers are used at all types of occasions. I am lucky enough to have amazing people that have gifted me with flowers the past two nights for my performance. I went to bed yesterday feeling a bit sad, beating myself up at all the mistakes I made during the dance. I woke up this morning and the first thing I saw were the flowers. They cheered me up instantly and I couldn't help but feel loved from the these flowers as I remembered the friends I received them from.

Tonight is my last performance. I'm happy that it is almost over. I get to go back to my normal routine. At the same time, knowing that something beautiful and amazing is ending, makes me quite sad.

But I won't think of sadness right now, as I lay in bed, enjoying this Saturday morning, looking at all of the flowers on top of my bookshelf.