One word,

...thanks for deleting it all, Blogger!

::slap::

I should

be researching "Coyuca" to discuss tomorrow in Spanish Peninsular Civilization at 8am, get ready for bed, maybe shower (hmm...can that be postponed?), do work for every class, sleep, write things that are far more interesting to read about than my stream of consciousness, stop thinking about chocolate cookies, be more sociable like a "typical" college student, brush my hair/teeth, move stuff off of my bed so perhaps I can lay me down in it when I'm done writing, plot meals that I can actually cook and move away from sandwiches/salads/pasta with vegetables, de-stress, and end this blog.

But you know what? I enjoy writing more than any of these things. Besides, perhaps, those cookies.

cool, grey days

(because "grey" is much more romantic than "gray," and I support romance) are good for either inspiration or no motivation. As it happened, I was tired much of the day but wrote a poem inspired by my lunch. Evidently, I have some form of food fixation. Hey, if it works, I'll take it.

After an outpouring of writing, I take a step back. I let it rest and look at it the next day. It's easier to chop away then. Other times, I'm surprised to see that I like what I read.

Sometimes, after these bursts, the rest extends. I'm not sure where to go. I started a story in May of 2005, wrote a few pages, and then ceased. For this entire year, however, the main character stayed with me. I watched her shrug off clingy boys and laugh at criticism. I saw her begin to care. I continued her story. It's not nearly done, nor have I any idea of how it will end. But she's going somewhere, somewhere that I didn't anticipate, and I'm willing to follow.

remain true

I've spent a solid two hours writing the second of two "short-shorts," the other written on a whim Tuesday night. I'm not entirely sure if it works (or if either works, for that matter). I linger longest on the conclusions, especially when I did not anticipate such a turn of events. I enjoy that leap, though. The story has life that you were not aware of. Instead of conceiving it, your only choice is to follow it and hopefully remain true.

Bird by Bird, which I began today, makes me realize -- I am not incompetent for staring at the computer hopelessly! That it's difficult to actually sit there and write! That it's okay to feel both helpless and unmotivated! So I took her advice and wrote a bit -- an opening -- a starting point that I may scrap entirely later, but will remind me, at least, of the idea that I want to pursue.

It's been a day of meaningless writing -- the hasty scribble of Spanish words, answering silly questions in "full sentences." The writing progressively runs more carelessly. Perhaps letters will be dropped here and there, too slow to catch on. Sentences turn to a swollen stream of cursive words nearly linked as one. For crying out loud, I don't care anymore! But I will at 8am if this paper is examined by eyes less forgiving than my own were at this hour.

People holler and cheer outside. I write what humor I can to far away friends and boyfriend. No sadness, simply a bit tired. If I could, I would write creatively all day long. But I need those other things -- classes, assignments (regardless of language), practice, bed -- to make me value it more. To channel it effectively, if I can ever get time to let it run.

after an ode to peanut-buttery-goodness

I love seemingly random sources of inspiration, as the title suggests. Any object -- anything at all -- can be elevated to that higher level (or lowered, perhaps, depending on one's perspective/cynicism) of human communion.

let us kill the spirit of gravity - nietzsche

I don't believe that good writing must take itself seriously all of the time.

I dreamt last night of what I'd considered for the short-short. Surfboards, ocean, boy. But this boy was older and the waves grave and choppy on a gray afternoon. They're breaking and I know you'll want to get in. I'm nervous, but I'll try. Then I woke up.

The vision I'd had in mind held glistening waves and too-bright sun. Hope, but perhaps in the end, too much.

a new direction

So now I can use my blog for academic purposes? Sweet.

I'm excited for Creative Writing, in all honesty. I need that motivation to create an ending, to fulfill the character's promise. Perhaps it's because I often find my character's life running alongside mine. The ending to that story, whether good or bad, has yet to be realized. I hope, at the very least, that it's interesting.

rising fog

I must see my friends and family ere I go. I must pack. Really. I must construct artwork/collages to decorate my room with the people mentioned before. I must run. I'd like to write. I will, again, but I don't know if I can now. Not enough time. What pictures? What time? ((If anyone feels they would like to randomly bestow me with a gift, festive, homemade decorations and collages would be very welcome!)) An internship in the city next summer? I'm so attached to wherever I stay for too long. You all give me good reason to hold on, no matter where I go.

Approaching 1:30 am. Fog rises, nestling the streetlights. They glow for me, serenely blurred. The road is clear. I am alone. I am calm.

Down the road, a sudden and silent dense cloud in the black and orange night. I drive. Red lights appear. Without a whisp, clarity returns. I always knew it would.

learning to surf on a calm sea

Sunshine in the day and cool, almost-fall-esque nights with the hint of smoke in the air feel so right. Ice cream fits any season.

It's coming, it's coming...it's passed. I leap to my feet and immediately jump off, laughing all the way down. Real waves sweep other shores today. Still, it's pleasant to paddle under the sun, floating on this fiberglass chunk that slowly becomes more familiar. We balance each other. The swells turn natural instead of unsteadying. Bright sun belies a cool breeze. Our teeth chatter. We float on anyway, determined (and tired).

I ponder not life, love, or lack of sleep, but when my next chance will come. Does it count if I really haven't caught a wave? Because I'll gladly try again another day. Summer, you feel so right.

as i roam,

I believe that if people took the time to walk about a half hour each day -- without rush or destination -- in a peaceful place, their quality of life would improve greatly.

yet to exhale

Still the recurring dream of pressing the brake and finding the speed won't cease. Still tearing gaps, mindlessly yet deliberately.

I miss competition more and more.

But whatever you call this line, I'm living it.

las manos de Dios

I have climbed the highest mountains

I have run through the fields...

conditioning

As much mental as it is physical, and I love it.

"What's next?" I ask eagerly.

"You're crazy!" they exclaim.

I'm just as sore as the rest of you, and my muscles begin to tremble. But I need this. I need to push until I feel ready to collapse. I don't collapse (well, maybe sometimes, but not for long and usually from laughter). I recover. I become stronger. If you work hard now, it will come more easily later. Don't you see?

Twenty minutes down, twenty-five to go...that's like an easy day of cardio.

Thus she breathes against the humidity, swipes at webs and insects, and continues to tread over the dirt and sand.

And when you take a step out of the technical gymnastics mentality, aren't handstands just so fun and whimsical?

you're beautiful

Real sun, not scalding, by day. They cheer my name at night. I look much better than I feel or believe, I realize. I want you to watch me and be moved by my movement. Running water. Sushi in peace. We can spend as much time together as we wish and still find new ways to laugh. Stars and stories on the steps. Online warfare. Blue eyes. A shoutout to ANGELA for reading this! (Team America...spreading our influence to other parts of the U.S. before our next reunion.) Highways and stories of that first kiss. God didn't want me to die today. It's a warm night and I do not know what will come to be, but I do love this, now.

"Well, I always knew they were nuts."

Simple yet spontaneous adventures make me glad.

"Do you think they'll give me whipped cream in a cup?" In the thirty second gap between phone calls, Kelsey finds money. "If that's not a good enough reason to stay fit, I don't know what is!" Time and good laughs with a wonderful chiquito, and of course there is no fifth wheel! Afterwards, the presence of an old friend -- the UNGEHEUR...of Long Island Sound.

And the Spanish soap opera, no matter how many times I've watched it, never fails to make me laugh.

An old but wise quote: "You know you're a true gymnast when what you're doing is better than a rollercoaster."

(Looks like I'm putting my emo songwriting career on hold today.)

blind but now i see

Once limited, but now I can run.

I like myself best at this time: driving home in the afternoon after a run. Sun illuminates green and blue. Music plays on the radio -- random, yet exactly what I wish to hear. I am alone, and unperturbed. All is well.

As it should be.

Today's revelation: I MISS TRACK! (My 4x100 champs-high jump crew-4x800 know what's up.) Always memories I can reflect upon happily and safely, for that was what it was.

i love nearly drowning while driving

Apocalypse Now (or yesterday, or two days ago, whenever this publishes).

Sometimes I get tired of working hard. Sometimes the desire wans to force this image in my mind into a physical manifestation -- for at such times, it would take force. Sometimes I would like to eat chocolate and not mind at all.

Hey, if strap bar giants and dancing to Pirates of the Caribbean are what keep me going right now, I'll take it.

--

Tell me, is this all that you've dreamed?