Before I started this semester, a certain mama Cindee of mine said that she desperately wanted to hear some of the things I wrote in my creative writing class. Being the elephant that I am, (this is not entirely a fat joke about myself, I was just saying that means I never forget,) I decided to dedicate a blog about a little something, something that I hope you all enjoy.
A few weeks ago, my Creative Writing instructor/ graduate student/ el-teacher took us to the museum on campus for inspiration to write. I, being the introvert that I am, was incredibly nervous about this particular quest. I hate reading my stuff aloud because the other eleven people that are in my class are all seniors who have taken every blasted English Class, and lets just say that they pretty much have all their crapola together. Me, I am always sitting in the corner like, "yeah, man. I wrote something as hardcore as that, but I just don't want to share it and have all you lovely people steal it." Most of the time, I just write about Taylor Swift or all the homework I have to do when I go home. This day was surprisingly different.
After entering the museum, I noticed that each and every painting on the wall was abstract, all using three main colors : red, blue, and yellow. Some of these paintings included circles, other included squares, and some...yeah, I couldn't even figure those bad boys out.
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| This is similar to what was covering the walls. That's exactly what I was thinking! How on Earth are you supposed to write something deep about this? |
10/18/12 (Don't worry, this isn't the title...actually, I couldn't figure one out, so yes, this is the title.)
Here I am, yet another day, just hanging out. People walk in, cock their heads to the left, then to the right. After five minutes of their heads replicating the motion of a see-saw, they straighten their bodies and smile, as if they knew every single detail about me. Some whisper, "Ohhhh, she painted triangles for kicks and giggles or just so she could meet her deadline." No. My maker created me for particular reasons that only I can try to describe. With every stroke of my becoming, a tear fell from her beautifully rounded chin. She could've painted boxes or maybe even smooth circles, but instead, she chose the sharp edges of a triangle, because those were the only ones that matched the stabbing pains in her heart. My triangles points may be sharp, but the edges are rather smuged and less defined; I think it had something to do with the fact that she felt like she had lost her identity the night before. Finally, she stood up and looked at me, similar to the people who now come to view me. There was something different about the way she stared at me, though. She looked, not with any smug "know-it-all" facial expressions, but with saddness in her eyes. She described her pain perfectly by creating me, and now, instead of forgetting her feelings, they were staring back at her. She went to grab the brushes she recently placed in a cup full of water. With one flick of the wrist, she splattered little paint drops across the triangles, finally allowing me to cry with her.
When it came time for us to read our writings aloud, for the first time I had the confidence to raise my hand first. Like I said before, I am an introvert, so when my hand went high, it was shaking in the process. Sadly, another student raised her hand at the very same time, so being the sweet southerner that I am, I allowed her to go and I took the liberty of going second. When my time came, I took a deep breath and let the words on my page flow. After I finished reading, I looked up to find everyones eyes were on me. I began nervously laughing...I should really get that checked out or atleast under control, sheesh. Suddenly, three or four of my classmates began saying how much they loved it! One girl on the front was like, "Oh my gosh! That's so awesome! People don't usually think that deep into the behind the scenes work of paintings. They look at abstract stuff and think booooooooring. That's so cool that you didn't." At that moment, I began nervously laughing again because I totally did think that...at first. (Sorry wonderful paintings in the Art Museum. It was 9:30 in the morning and I was minus caffeine.)
I hope you all enjoyed a little snit-bit of my work. Aha, I say that like I am going professional, or like I am dadgum Nicholas Sparks or something. Maybe someday...WAIT! That almost sounded like I was saying I wanted to be a man like Nicholas Sparks! No, no no! I was totally talking about being a super writer like him! Oh, that's what y'all were thinking, too? Wshoo, good!
I hope you all have a maaaaarvelous week! Remember: you gotta sleep or you will end up as looney as me! OH SNAP- STORY TIME! Earlier this morning, I was just sitting at work studying a little for my journalism test on Friday. All of a sudden, a caught myself looking for my seatbelt, as if I were in a car or something! Oh my gosh, how embarrassing! Once I noticed what I was doing, I quickly pretended like I was looking for my hair tie then screamed "FOUND IT!" Everyone looked at me like, "umm...good for you?" Ahaha...my life.
Anyways...
TWO MORE WEEKS UNTIL THANKSGIVING!
And leave me lost in a far off land.
So let me ride the wind til I don't look back,
Forget the life that I almost had.
If I wander til I die.
May I know who's hand I'm in.
If my home I'll never find;
And let me live again."
The Longer I Run by Peter Bradley Adams
For those who just need a laugh, here yah go. Ps - I am marrying Ethan. Just FYI...
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