My pencil lead snapped as I pressed it against the page. Again I clicked out the lead and pressed the point to the paper, waiting for inspiration to strike. A cool breeze riffled through my hair, practically shuffling through the ideas in my brain for me, but none were willing to flow out onto the paper. I had come to this place for a very specific reason. My goal was a difficult one to achieve, but achieve it I would with the aid of my sunny surroundings.
I tapped my pencil against my mouth and stared around me for something interesting. A cheerful spring gurgled near my toes and some bright fish frolicked in its waters. My eye twitched, but I smoothed the muscle down with a free hand. I would achieve my goal, I would. My knee bounced against the soft green grass and I fought to still it. As a lamb skipped past me over the water I just couldn’t take it anymore.
“ENOUGH!!” I screamed at the bright blue sky, “I JUST CAN’T DO IT!!”
But the weather remained glad and warm against my skin, unwilling to bend against my temper.
“Didn’t you hear me!?” I shouted louder. But the cheerful surroundings seemed to want me to admit defeat.
I sighed and bowed my head, “I just can’t write a happy story.”
Iron chains curled up from beneath the grass and wrapped around my legs and arms. They forced me into a contemplative position, with my head bent over my pencil and paper. It seemed that I would have to write this happy scene whether I wanted to or not. Perhaps this was how delightful children’s novels were written, with the author fettered to such objects of bright inspiration as I was? How else could they keep their thoughts fastened on such happy things?
With what seemed like a herculean effort I raised my pencil to paper and began to write. I didn’t lack inspiration now. But what flowed from my pen weren’t sunshine and daisies, but goblins and horrors. The meadows around me shrieked in agony as they melted into shadowy stones and crabbed plants. The chains crawled on my skin greedily, changing into wings, claws, horns; whatever my mind landed on. I walked up the hills to where a castle was now jutting out. This is where I preferred to be.
-M
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Doug: Liar
When I die no one will be sad.
This isn't because I had friends and family. I'm sure I will. No. This is because when I die, everyone will know what I am.
I'll leave a letter, or a will, or some kind of message, that tells them all what I've done to them. Who I've lied to. Who I've lied about. The people I've done things to. The people I've hurt without having the common decency to tell.
This won't make up for the lies, the pain, the liberties I've taken with people's feelings, knowingly or not. No. The truth rarely feels good, no matter what bullshit all those teachers tried to teach us in school. The truth is really painful, and shitty, and cruel.
But it's the fucking truth. And by all Gods light and dark, it's the right thing to do.
I haven't done a lot of right things. Ever. I've lied. Cheated. Stolen. But more than that I've hurt people, really hurt them. And the worst part is some of them don't even know it. I've kept the hurt from them, and will, because I'm a coward, and even though they'll hurt more when they do find out, I'll stick with these lies because that's who I am.
A monster that looks like a man.
In my dream, when I die no one cares, because in my dream I never existed, so I couldn't hurt anyone.
And yes. I lied to you. You just don't know it yet.
-Doug
This isn't because I had friends and family. I'm sure I will. No. This is because when I die, everyone will know what I am.
I'll leave a letter, or a will, or some kind of message, that tells them all what I've done to them. Who I've lied to. Who I've lied about. The people I've done things to. The people I've hurt without having the common decency to tell.
This won't make up for the lies, the pain, the liberties I've taken with people's feelings, knowingly or not. No. The truth rarely feels good, no matter what bullshit all those teachers tried to teach us in school. The truth is really painful, and shitty, and cruel.
But it's the fucking truth. And by all Gods light and dark, it's the right thing to do.
I haven't done a lot of right things. Ever. I've lied. Cheated. Stolen. But more than that I've hurt people, really hurt them. And the worst part is some of them don't even know it. I've kept the hurt from them, and will, because I'm a coward, and even though they'll hurt more when they do find out, I'll stick with these lies because that's who I am.
A monster that looks like a man.
In my dream, when I die no one cares, because in my dream I never existed, so I couldn't hurt anyone.
And yes. I lied to you. You just don't know it yet.
-Doug
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Meghan: Tests
I just couldn’t take it anymore.
You understand.
The fourth failed test of the semester was stuffed in my backpack hidden in the dark recesses of my closet. I had tried so hard, I really had, but I just couldn’t seem to get the grades I wanted.
Eyes blurring and hands shaky with a mixture of fear and relief I popped the top off of the first bottle of pills I grabbed from the bathroom cabinet. I had barely poured it down my throat when I was reaching for another. And another, and another. A little scrap of paper fluttered down from where it had been wedged behind one of them and floated to the counter. It caught my eye as I paused, chest heaving to lean against the counter. It read:
Meghan,
I know your chemistry exam was today so I replaced all of the meds in the house with sugar pills.
-love Jasmine
My right eye started twitching as I finished reading the note. Or perhaps it was the massive intake of sugar that was now soaking into my system. I wondered vaguely where she had gotten so many sugar pills as I voyaged out of the bathroom in a continued search. As I thought, she had removed my stores of nooses, bludgeoning objects, and sharp things. I don’t know how I had missed the lack of…everything, in my original journey through the apartment. She had also neatly padded the walls in case I thought of throwing myself against them. But no matter, I would just leave my safe and newly cushioned apartment. With a determined look on my brow I set off, the sky growing darker and growling ominously.
Perfect.
I stood on the bridge that went over the Rio Grande, wind whipping my hair and lightning crackling above me. As high places go, there aren’t a lot in New Mexico, and high bridges; forget it. So I would settle for this. Tears streamed down my face as I spread my arms wide, the white virginal sacrificial gown I was wearing flapped in the wind.
“Get down from there.”
I almost fell from my perch on the rail in surprise. Waving my arms for balance I turned to see Jasmine standing behind me, wrapped in coats and holding an umbrella.
“No.” I said, turning once more to the swirling water, “I failed my test again.”
“By failed you mean…?”
“I’M NOT TELLING YOU!!!” I snapped, closing my eyes, “It’s too awful.”
“Well, if you change your mind…” She paused dramatically and I heard her shifting things around, “I brought coffee.”
I peeked at her in the corner of my eye and she was indeed sipping from a steaming Starbucks cup as she held another out to me. The umbrella was wedged in the crook of her elbow. My body started turning involuntarily and I shivered in my thin white dress.
“Coffee?”
“Raspberry.” She waved it back and forth and I slid off the rail. Then we sat down on it together and had coffee.
-M
You understand.
The fourth failed test of the semester was stuffed in my backpack hidden in the dark recesses of my closet. I had tried so hard, I really had, but I just couldn’t seem to get the grades I wanted.
Eyes blurring and hands shaky with a mixture of fear and relief I popped the top off of the first bottle of pills I grabbed from the bathroom cabinet. I had barely poured it down my throat when I was reaching for another. And another, and another. A little scrap of paper fluttered down from where it had been wedged behind one of them and floated to the counter. It caught my eye as I paused, chest heaving to lean against the counter. It read:
Meghan,
I know your chemistry exam was today so I replaced all of the meds in the house with sugar pills.
-love Jasmine
My right eye started twitching as I finished reading the note. Or perhaps it was the massive intake of sugar that was now soaking into my system. I wondered vaguely where she had gotten so many sugar pills as I voyaged out of the bathroom in a continued search. As I thought, she had removed my stores of nooses, bludgeoning objects, and sharp things. I don’t know how I had missed the lack of…everything, in my original journey through the apartment. She had also neatly padded the walls in case I thought of throwing myself against them. But no matter, I would just leave my safe and newly cushioned apartment. With a determined look on my brow I set off, the sky growing darker and growling ominously.
Perfect.
I stood on the bridge that went over the Rio Grande, wind whipping my hair and lightning crackling above me. As high places go, there aren’t a lot in New Mexico, and high bridges; forget it. So I would settle for this. Tears streamed down my face as I spread my arms wide, the white virginal sacrificial gown I was wearing flapped in the wind.
“Get down from there.”
I almost fell from my perch on the rail in surprise. Waving my arms for balance I turned to see Jasmine standing behind me, wrapped in coats and holding an umbrella.
“No.” I said, turning once more to the swirling water, “I failed my test again.”
“By failed you mean…?”
“I’M NOT TELLING YOU!!!” I snapped, closing my eyes, “It’s too awful.”
“Well, if you change your mind…” She paused dramatically and I heard her shifting things around, “I brought coffee.”
I peeked at her in the corner of my eye and she was indeed sipping from a steaming Starbucks cup as she held another out to me. The umbrella was wedged in the crook of her elbow. My body started turning involuntarily and I shivered in my thin white dress.
“Coffee?”
“Raspberry.” She waved it back and forth and I slid off the rail. Then we sat down on it together and had coffee.
-M
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Doug: Nightlights in Florence
The night had started out abysmally. Our attempt to find the fish resteraunt, repudidly an extremly good place, failed utterly. Itallian streets are poorly numbered, and designations do not make sense even when you could find a reference point.
We stumbled around for another half hour. Hunger gnawed at our nerves; already frayed from too many museums in one day and too many hours on our feet. Finally a concensus was reached on a small courtyard Ristorante, as our host country calls them. There we hit our first break.
Delcious food was followed by excellent conversation. One of the things I like about Italy is that when you step into a eatery of any kind, the table you sit down at is yours for the evening, not until you finish eating, but the whole evening, as long as you want to stay. It's glorious, and very conducive to copious amounts of verbage.
A short walk (our wanderings had somehow led us closer to our place of residence than the original objective) leaves my brother and I alone outside our rented apartment. Our parents, retiring early, left us with the keys and instructions to be extremely quiet upon our return. Accepting the challenge, we turned to the Piazza behind us and made our brave way into the night.
Some mild discussion led us aimlessly to another corner of the Piazza where a street musician was holding an impromptou concert. The tunes of David Bowie, Simon and Garfunkel, and Cat Stevens filled the air. I found myself filled with the kind of happiness that only contentment can provide, and my brother and I passed an hour listening to Ken Mercer (find him on facebook. DOOOO IT).
We listened and talked. I watched the people around us. A small crowd of about two hundred had gathered amidst the statues (this particular portion of the piazza held many marble statues of greek gods and friezes from greek myth) to listen. I felt a community of strangers grow in the music, many hands, many races, many places. All one for a few hours beneath the lights of the Piazza and amid the sounds of music.
I love this city, Florence. Its the city I've connected to the most in Italy, with its shops and statues and museums and art galleries. I'll be back here some day, with someone I love, because I so desprately want to share this place, these people, these feelings.
-Doug
"Feel free to sing the chourus to this song."
-Ken Mercer, Florence. September 14, 2010.
We stumbled around for another half hour. Hunger gnawed at our nerves; already frayed from too many museums in one day and too many hours on our feet. Finally a concensus was reached on a small courtyard Ristorante, as our host country calls them. There we hit our first break.
Delcious food was followed by excellent conversation. One of the things I like about Italy is that when you step into a eatery of any kind, the table you sit down at is yours for the evening, not until you finish eating, but the whole evening, as long as you want to stay. It's glorious, and very conducive to copious amounts of verbage.
A short walk (our wanderings had somehow led us closer to our place of residence than the original objective) leaves my brother and I alone outside our rented apartment. Our parents, retiring early, left us with the keys and instructions to be extremely quiet upon our return. Accepting the challenge, we turned to the Piazza behind us and made our brave way into the night.
Some mild discussion led us aimlessly to another corner of the Piazza where a street musician was holding an impromptou concert. The tunes of David Bowie, Simon and Garfunkel, and Cat Stevens filled the air. I found myself filled with the kind of happiness that only contentment can provide, and my brother and I passed an hour listening to Ken Mercer (find him on facebook. DOOOO IT).
We listened and talked. I watched the people around us. A small crowd of about two hundred had gathered amidst the statues (this particular portion of the piazza held many marble statues of greek gods and friezes from greek myth) to listen. I felt a community of strangers grow in the music, many hands, many races, many places. All one for a few hours beneath the lights of the Piazza and amid the sounds of music.
I love this city, Florence. Its the city I've connected to the most in Italy, with its shops and statues and museums and art galleries. I'll be back here some day, with someone I love, because I so desprately want to share this place, these people, these feelings.
-Doug
"Feel free to sing the chourus to this song."
-Ken Mercer, Florence. September 14, 2010.
Jasmine: C.N.A.
CNA1(dejected sounding): Who are we kidding!
CNA2(confused): What are you talking about? Was that a question?
CNA1: No, it was an exclamation!
CNA2: It was phrased like a question, but the telltale lilt was missing...
CNA1: I know that, it was an exclamation!
CNA2: Stop that!
CNA1(lip quivering): But...
CNA2: I mean it
CNA1: Okay
CNA2: So what did you mean by your exclamation
CNA1: Why the hell are we taking Quantitative Analysis, Physical Chemistry, and Organic Chemistry?
CNA2: At least it wasn't an exclamation
CNA1: No, it's just depressing
CNA2: Maybe we're insane?
CNA1: I'll let you know after this first test
CNA2: There's a test?
CNA1: Three of them
CNA2: Crap
CNA1: Maybe we should start a support group
CNA2: Or a study group
CNA1: Same thing
CNA2: Chemistry Nerd's Anonymous?
CNA1: Dead Nerd's Anonymous...
CNA2: Sound's Exclamatory
CNA1: I feel dead
CNA2(confused): What are you talking about? Was that a question?
CNA1: No, it was an exclamation!
CNA2: It was phrased like a question, but the telltale lilt was missing...
CNA1: I know that, it was an exclamation!
CNA2: Stop that!
CNA1(lip quivering): But...
CNA2: I mean it
CNA1: Okay
CNA2: So what did you mean by your exclamation
CNA1: Why the hell are we taking Quantitative Analysis, Physical Chemistry, and Organic Chemistry?
CNA2: At least it wasn't an exclamation
CNA1: No, it's just depressing
CNA2: Maybe we're insane?
CNA1: I'll let you know after this first test
CNA2: There's a test?
CNA1: Three of them
CNA2: Crap
CNA1: Maybe we should start a support group
CNA2: Or a study group
CNA1: Same thing
CNA2: Chemistry Nerd's Anonymous?
CNA1: Dead Nerd's Anonymous...
CNA2: Sound's Exclamatory
CNA1: I feel dead
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Sarah: Could Be the Best Thing I've Written
I'm getting my own place for the school year. \m/(O.O)\m/
Friday, September 3, 2010
Jasmine: Today As I Watched
Today as I watched, a round yellow tennis ball sitting on the floor filled with life, and quite suddenly it jumped up from the ground, it bounced there for a while gaining altitude, and when it was high enough someone walked over and snatched it from the air.
Today as I watched, a charred piece of scrap light on fire, and as the fire spread across the blackened carbon new paper blossomed, first fragile and yellow and finally gleaming white poured from the flame, and once the white was disgorged the flamed moved on creating more new and finally returning home to it’s match.
Today as I watched, a man was chewing on something. He was thinking very hard about it. He was chewing and chewing and from his mouth he pulled a tan triangle roughly the size of the last bone in my thumb. However he didn’t appear done, he was still wildly chewing showing signs of excitement and pleasure at his task. He spit out another tan piece and another until there was a tan tube the length of my hand filled with a lighter color almost white. I expected him to stop here, instead, moving much faster he drew from his mouth a thin layer of white and yellow speckled with brown and red coming down to a triangular point. He smiled satisfied in his creation of a slice of pizza.
Today as I watched, a charred piece of scrap light on fire, and as the fire spread across the blackened carbon new paper blossomed, first fragile and yellow and finally gleaming white poured from the flame, and once the white was disgorged the flamed moved on creating more new and finally returning home to it’s match.
Today as I watched, a man was chewing on something. He was thinking very hard about it. He was chewing and chewing and from his mouth he pulled a tan triangle roughly the size of the last bone in my thumb. However he didn’t appear done, he was still wildly chewing showing signs of excitement and pleasure at his task. He spit out another tan piece and another until there was a tan tube the length of my hand filled with a lighter color almost white. I expected him to stop here, instead, moving much faster he drew from his mouth a thin layer of white and yellow speckled with brown and red coming down to a triangular point. He smiled satisfied in his creation of a slice of pizza.
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