This is just my everyday life. My public journal. It might be a mistake, but I make those all the time so, I’ll just wing it with this category.
A very happy St. Patrick’s Day!
And thanks for nothing UVA
Congrats to UMBC, however
What’s going on with this rain-snow weather?
Just a reminder, Harvard women did it first
Beat the best seed while they had the worst
Now it’s time to tear my bracket up
I had UVA winning, so wish me luck!
The air is cool and clean, playfully batting my cheek and filling my lungs. The wet porch beneath me is cold but comfortable. An enormous green bush hides me from passers by, but I can peer through the branches to the road beyond. Watching without being watched. Seeing without being seen. I’m pretty used to the view.
The evening sky is a cotton candy blue, and the bare trees reach up into it like skeleton arms. Birds chirp and children scream in the distance. A car door opens and shuts. I hear muffled voices from inside my house.
Another car creeps around the corner and I return to my book. The breeze nips at my bare legs and I like the feeling of wearing shorts outside for the first time since October.
More car doors. More birds. I look up at the light sky and see a bug zoom by, then a bird. The crisp air around me smells like rain and earth.
I could get used to this. I could get used to spring in February.
I return to my book once more, my back starting to ache. Then, when the pale reading light from the sky above is all but gone, I stand, open the front door, and return to the stale air of my front hall.
Today, for most people, is Super Bowl Sunday. But I’m not exactly a football fan, so I barely even notice as people all across the country get ready to watch a bunch of men tackle each other in big sweaty piles. For me, today is something a little more average.
Today my brother had a basketball game. Today I have to go grocery shopping. Today I have to do the homework I put off all day yesterday. Today it is pouring rain but I guess it’s not cold enough to get us out of school tomorrow. Sigh.
Today is also my Grandpa’s birthday. Today, I am celebrating a smart, kind, funny, generous, wonderful grandfather. I am not celebrating a bunch of millionaires who run around on a field playing an over-glorified game of fetch.
Not that there’s anything wrong with liking football. I don’t judge people for what sport they watch. (I judge them for other things.) I just wanted to point out that for a lot of people, today isn’t just about football.
Just saying.
(Happy birthday Grandpa.)
The streets of D.C. lined with pink hats
The Women’s March was a sight to behold
Travel basketball all winter long
Shooting and dribbling out in the cold
Performed at the Kennedy Center during break in the spring
Took voice lessons so I could learn how to sing
Volunteered with kids at my old school
Threw my friend a surprise party at the swimming pool
Made the volleyball team at Patriot high
Went to homecoming in heels that shot me into the sky
All county choir was lots of fun
Out of my whole voice part, I scored number one!
Then I made Patriot basketball too
We’re playing well, JV is 3 and 2
This year comes to an end and I’m feeling blue
And there have been low points this year, that’s true
But its also been a year of resistance and fight
So happy new year to all, and to all a good night
ps: I know 2018 has greatness in store
Like driving (!!) and Avengers: Infinity War
I don’t mind having a fall birthday
The leaves are gorgeous
Everything smells good
Halloween decorations are up
The weather is just right
But the day after my birthday
Tastes bittersweet
And smells like sadness
It reminds me
That all good things
Must come to an end
Sooner than we’d like
But the day after my birthday
Means it’s almost Halloween
Which means it’s almost Thanksgiving
Which means it’s almost Christmas
So, no
I don’t mind having a fall birthday
🙂
Halls bustling with giants
Classes that catch my attention
Like a fish on a hook
Funny, nice, engaging mentors
Spiraling stairwells
Circling corridors
Halls bustling with giants
Wayward walkways
Gigantic gymnasium
Football stadium
Bright lights
Ringing bell
Way, way, way
Too much PDA
And did I mention
Hallways bustling with giants?
High school is a new, undiscovered planet
And my rocket just landed
My heart is heavy with the news of the recent terror attacks in Manchester. I almost can’t bear to look at my Twitter feed. But I do. In today’s world we are drawn to whomever is spitting out facts and statistics. We are moths to news’s flame. We should know, must know the absolute truth.
I can’t decide what is true and what is false. I can’t figure out what is right and wrong. I have a few things that I do know. I know that in times like these we must urge people to send positive thoughts toward the people of Manchester. We must unite together and show love and support for those involved in the attacks.
And we must also use logic and reason. We cannot jump to conclusions nor point the finger of blame. We must stay calm and stay strong, because terrorism is a serious issue that cannot be tamed with anger or hate or bias.
Music is one of the most beautiful works of art in the world. For many people, music is a safe place. Music is a world away from the one we inhabit. Music is peace and serenity. It is heartbreaking that such a hateful crime was committed in a place of love and joy and peace.
My heart goes out to anyone and everyone affected by these attacks. While Manchester may be an ocean away from us, to me the victims of this attack are all too close. This could have been a Taylor Swift concert. This could have been the Taylor Swift concert I attended last year, in the capital of our nation. These teenagers that have lost their lives could have been my schoolmates. These parents searching desperately for their children could have been my mother and father.
Today we are all from Manchester. Today we must realize that flags and anthems do not define us. What defines us instead is the air we breathe and the planet we live on.
And that is all the same. Because we are all human.
Okay, so I’m just going to come out and say it. The whole “write every day for a year” thing didn’t work out. Yeah, I know, big surprise.
Some of you are probably disappointed. I am too. I really thought I could do it. But every once in a while I said “Well, I can skip one day.” And one day turned into two. And now here I am, realizing I haven’t written in almost a week.
But I want to keep going. This time however, I won’t have the pressure. I’m not trying to write every day for a year, I’m just trying to write. I’m just trying to be a writer.
I have a lot going on in my life right now. Obviously, I want writing to be part of my life. But writing every single day is just too much. So someday, maybe I will realize that I have written every day for a long time. Someday maybe it will be my career, someday I may get paid to write every day.
But for now I’m going to focus on everything else going on around me, and make time for writing whenever I can. And if I don’t write one day, it’s not the end of the world.
Because let’s be honest. I didn’t even last a month.
Beads of sweat drip down my face as I stare down the rim. One more shot, I tell myself. Just one more and then I’ll go home. But I don’t. I shoot, over and over again. Swish! Clunk! Air ball. My shoes squeak the gym floor and my shirt is drenched. I tighten my ponytail, brushing wisps of hair out of my eyes. My hand goes up, past my nose, and I flick my wrist just so. The ball is a part of me. Swish. I rebound, I run, I shoot again. Panting and gasping for air, I curse the owners of Wakefield gym. No AC, none at all. I shoot and run and sweat. My body begs for mercy, but my brain begs for perfection, and my heart begs for basketball. The court is mine. My shoes slip on my own salty sweat and my fingers are red. The blood pounds through my hands and to my head. Any normal person would stop. But my water bottle sits, lonely, in my bag while I push through the throbbing in my head. My finger collapses in on itself, jammed, but I play on. My spring break will be a cycle of run, sweat, rebound, shoot, and swish.
And I will love every minute of it…
But first I have to get there.
My mind is a rollercoaster of crazy. My train of thought has stops in Bookville, Fandomland, and Basketballia. My dreams are filled with creepy crawlies, my thoughts are mixed in a blender of insanity. My brain twinkles with delight and fright and mischief and fun and torture. My words spill out twisting and turning as they fall into your ears. My mind is an endless landscape of snow and desert, rain and shine, mountains and plains. My mind is loud. So are my voices… can’t you hear them?