17 March 2007


"Congratulations," she said, her hand extended and open. A handshake. Her face wore a smile and that's it.
I expected some surprise, some shock. An "I can't believe it" or something like that. Nothing, and that's the best part. As I get more and more stressed out about the upcoming process of getting myself to Boston and trying to find a place to live, getting to know new people, convincing myself that I can write, all that crap, one of our creative writing professors extended her hand, shook mine, and plainly said, "Congratulations, that's a great school."
"I'm scared, totally excited, but scared as hell," I told another professor.
"Trust me, you're ready. Boston is great. You'll have a ton of fun, and you're totally ready."
I don't feel ready. I just hope that when the time comes, I will be. I am frightened at the possibilities in front of me, of the things that I may or may not accomplish. I am excited for all these things, but I am scared as hell.

16 March 2007


I could listen to the click-clack of the keys all night. My head throbbing, pulsing with the crash of each letter as it imprints itself on the page. I just sit and listen, watching every letter appear like magic behind the weird metal foot that presses the ink. This is the power that I have, a power that is completely reliant on other forces. The paper, the letters, the words sentences paragraphs pages narratives stories truths lies dreams fantasies emotions anxieties that lay buried beneath each thin sheet of paper.

I could listen all night, and I could watch the letters appear and the words form to the flow of my fingertips. But when the night shuts its eyes, I haven't found a truth and I haven't made any sense of these crazy things that makes my head throb. That is the power that has me.

14 March 2007

the shakes

Sometimes I feel a slight shaking beneath, maybe inside me. I look around and no one else seems to notice. I wonder if it's an earthquake, or the beginning of one. Maybe the earth is settling beneath me, exhaling a breath it's been holding in for so long that it finally needed to get out. Maybe the subtle trembling is the hint of something larger to come. Nothing happens though, and no one seems to notice.