Writings of a Random Girl

Since it’s raining outside, I thought I’d share this rainy day photo that I took this summer in Manhattan. :D

I thought I’d share a silly poem I once wrote to what I thought was the love of my life…

ODE TO POCKY

Your smoothness calls for my tongue to caress you,

And I never tire of doing so before I chew.

Strawberry, chocolate, giant, regular,

Your variety will make you exciting forever.

Sometimes I dream of being surrounded by your goodness,

And as I eat my way out, I love you no less.

I yearn for the way you snap in between my teeth

When I bite the biscuit stick underneath,

I hope you will never stop being imported from Japan,

Or else I’ll have to drive off a cliff in my sedan.

I really really really love you,

And I hope one day you’ll love me too.

The photo above was taken in New York, summer of 2010. This is the pier at Liberty Island. The piece below is a short story, written in letter form, in the syle of F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Dearest ____,

A long time ago, you gave me this locket. I can remember the moment with startling clarity. It was a cool November evening, the air was crisp and the land was still damp from that afternoon’s showers. I was standing on the porch in my nightgown shivering from the cold, but refusing to come back inside the house. I was thinking about my mother and if she would enjoy her new home. I was angry that night. I know that you knew. I was frustrated because no matter how much I wanted to cry, needed to cry, the tears would not come. You called me inside, and when I did not come, you joined me on the porch.

“Your mother was one of the best people I’d ever know,” you said to me softly and put your arm around my stiffened shoulders. I want you to know that I did not respond that night because I could not. Every word in my vocabulary had become welded in my throat

It was then that you slipped the small circular locket inside my trembling hands. I remember blinking down at it and wanting to hurl the ugly piece of metal into the sky. My mother had just died, and this was your way of comforting me? I confess that I had a fleeting thought of how repulsive you were.

“I know it’s not anything grand, but my grandmother gave me that when my mother died. She told me that its circular shape represents the cycle of life,” you continued after a strained silence. After you left me to brood alone in the faintly lit atmostphere of the porch, I remember thinking that was the dumbest thing anyone had ever said to me. Without knowing why, however, I remained on the porch clutching the silly locket. The next morning, when I awoke in my own bed, the locket was still clenched tightly in my fist.

I cannot truly fathom how precious the locket became to me. Every time the waves of loneliness became too unbearable, I would pull out the locket and visions of my mother would drift back to me. During these moments, I would be able to feel her presence, and thoughts of despair would leave me. On the day of my college graduation, I had the locket with me, and I knew that my mother could not have been far away. I wore it around my neck during my wedding, and I knew that Mom was sitting with you, ecstatic over the fact that her daughter was marrying her best friend’s son. When my daughter was born, I placed the locket in her small fist, and I knew Mom was there caressing her soft skin along with me

It’s been twenty years since you first presented me with that locket, and I will cherish it every day. I have become, however, strong enough to live on my own. As you had once pulled me out of the shadows, I wish to do the same for you. Your son was one of the best people I had ever known. He was a wonderful husband and a model father. I’m giving you back this locket, which still is not grand, but it represents the cycle of life and will help you through your grief. When you miss his voice or cannot seem to remember his lopsided smile, just hold this locket close and the memories will flood back. I want you to know that you will never be alone, for he will always be with you, and so will I.

The piece below was a previous school assignment. We were asked to ponder our favorite place in the world. Naturally, I thought of my closet!

There are times in my life when I feel as though I’m traveling at a different speed than everyone else. Life whisks by at two hundred miles per hour while I languidly bounce after it. There are other times when I’m sprinting full speed with life, but like an engine, I eventually use all of the fuel. However, when this occurs, I find myself too trapped to make an exit. When I am allowed to pause, I am so weary that it can be felt in my bones. I know I am not alone when I say that I often wish for an escape, no matter how fleeting it may be.

Whenever life’s expectations weight too heavy upon my frame, I snatch a can of Coca-Cola from the kitchen, and I sit down in my closet. It’s not particularly large, it’s actually rather cramped, but it is here that I feel most at peace with myself. While sipping the Coke, my eyes flutter to a close, and as if at once, the tension mercifully slips from my presence. A few minutes later, tiny snippets of the current day relay in my mind as if on a degenerate reel. A clip of something unkind that had passed my lips to a friend is repeated to me, and I cringe. A joke that someone made during the day is reiterated, and I smile. It is here that my life is reduced to pieces and analyzed. It is here that I find peace.

In our world today, everyone is preoccupied in improving himself, whether financially or mentally. Everyone wants to get to his destination, and he wants to get there fast! People who linger are chastised for wasting time, and those that seek diversion more than is normally acceptable are considered immature or lazy. When I’m in my closet amongst the pile of shoe boxes and sports equipment, the world described above just fades into oblivion. Nothing seems to be of great consequence in the darkness. My fingers trace the edges of the assortment of boxes. Some are tin while others are wide and flat. I move my leg and accidentally strike my lacrosse stick, but it refuses to fall, too comfortable in the position that I had placed it in during the summer. The only emergency in the closet is when my bottom becomes numb, and this is easily repaired.

Also, the closet is quiet. There are no phones, no people, and no electronic devices to disturb me. I am away from the personal problems of others, and I can bond with myself. This is something that people ordinarily miss due to the fast pace lifestyles that they lead. And I truly believe that bonding with oneself is essential before bonding with others.

My closet is where I go to recharge and refuel myself, and when I am truly calm and ready to resume my life, I just open my eyes and quickly merge back into traffic.