An Ode to Andrew

I have a plan. An actual (and therefore not metaphorical) plan. One that might just sprout wings this summer and take off. I am stoked.

I'll admit, sometimes I don't think I know how to be a writer. Sometimes, I forget that we have to invest in self-promoting, and use our writerly capabilites to entice business people to merely glance at our work. Sometimes, I don't realize how hard I might just have it for the rest of my life, because writers, we're going to have it hard. It's inevitable.

The Plan:
--Write a proposal/inquiry stating my offer of being a travel writer for the Williamsport area, meaning that I will be encouraging/promoting the idea of the "staycation".
--This will include traveling to local restaurants/Susquehanna events/local natural attractions and anything else that Williamsport and the surrounding areas that may have become lost treasures.
--Send in the inquiry/proposal to tourism services/local newspapers/college campuses/Chamber of Commerce and smiling really big in hopes of obtaining some form of recognition for my writerly efforts and creativity.
--Waiting, waiting, waiting to hear back, and although this will probably be an unpaid venture, I can work from home and indulge myself with the idea of publication in something other than in my campus newspaper.

And that, folks, is my big idea for this summer. I plan on fleshing it out and asking until my voice becomes hoarse with pleading acceptance. Relish in it.

Pro...Cras..Ti..Natin..G.

Procrastinating is always better when the receiver is in my hand, and you are on the other line.

a not so happy blog.

I am truthfully fed up with people who think they are the best thing that ever graced this earth.

Get over yourself.

Slowly, Slowly, I am Drifting.

I watched a movie this past weekend that touched on the iffy subject of being 'left in the middle of your life'. The character even offered to have another breakdown if her friend would just stay a bit longer, as if that were a prized incentive.

I feel like that sometimes. Well, let's just be honest - the familiarity of 'being left in the middle of my life' creeps up on me more often than I'd like to admit, and too often does it make me feel sick. I go away for a weekend trying to escape the normalcy that has become my life at Behrend, and then Monday rolls back on around. Friends come to visit and we have heart-to-hearts with a side of chocolate cake and good music, and then they are gone, back to their other lives.

It never gets old or easier, saying goodbye. I take one last glance in my rearview mirror and then focus on the road that will take me home, back to my life. I wrap my arms around your neck one more time before I catch your eye and bid your farewell, back to your life.

And here we sit, both in the midst, in media res, with our own problems and delights and confusions.

And here we sit, once again, apart.

I wish sometimes that being in the middle of my own life weren't such a negative thing -- that the need to escape wouldn't be such a hinderance to the now, the present. And as much as I try to accept it, the whole going back thing, I find myself thinking of what was, what could have been, and what might just be the next time we meet again.

Isn't it pretty to think so?

This past Sunday, I attended my first Bridal shower (not counting relatives, and if that were the case, then I attended my second). This just wasn't any regular Bridal shower, however, because it wasn't just anyone getting married. It was my suite mate, my friend, my friend that's two years older than I am.

As I sat at my table, watching Jenna laugh and smile, I wondered what was going through her mind. Was she absolutely terrified? Elated? Nervous? A little overwhelmed?

Michelle's mom was trying to hook her up with the waiter on my right, and on my left, boats sailed into the beautiful Lake Erie bay. If anything, I felt overwhelmed. Everything was happening too fast.

Jenna opened her presents, and random guests would stand up and provide her with words of wisdom, marriage quotes, life-long advice, love quips. She nodded at them all, probably trying to take in every last word. I was trying to take in every word, too. What did I know about marriage, life with someone aside from myself, love?

As we stood up to leave, I got a good look at everyone who gave her advice. I wondered what their love stories were, how they met their husbands, if they were truly happy. I gave Jenna a hug and told her she looked really pretty, which she did. She had that soft glow about her that only comes from women who are about to celebrate marriage.

And I walked out the door back into my life of tests and essays and road trips. I stepped out of my dress pants and sweater, and back into my comfortable jeans and T-shirt.

Growing up is a curious thing. Here and there, I have been getting glimpses into the 'real' world of resumes, bridal showers, and whatever is supposed to come after that. And it's a bit terrifying. But on the other hand, I'll admit it's kind of, sort of exhilarating.

That could be me one day. After I'm settled down, enjoying my travels and memories of college, that might just be me.

And as Jake muses to Brett in Hemingway's "The Sun Also Rises", isn't it pretty to think so?

Calendar Quote of the Day

"You never sound as smart or appear as appealing as you think you do."

Um. Ouch.

I think it needed to be said, though.

Kissin' ((in)) the rain.

I thoroughly enjoy walking through the rain.

I mean, there are people who like to admire the rain from the couch while the television is on with a beer in hand. There are even those people who like to admire the rain under the confines of an umbrella. But I have to say, I really like hearing my shoes squeak against rain-splattered pavement. I love the smell of freshly watered grass, the sounds of people mumbling under their breath because they spent hours doing their hair that morning. I love the dripdripdrip and swishswishswish of jackets pressing against skin, of droplets the size of dimes scattering themselves generously across what should have been water-proof clothing.

I love the mood of rain. You know that melancholic, I-wish-I-were-anywhere-but-stuck-in-the-rain, mood? I see it a lot around Eeeerie...people who become jaded by the rain after the first dreary week. I personally enjoy the mood of rain. Maybe it's because I am a writer. I appreciate those melancholic moments more than most people, I suppose.

Rain provides the perfect moments sometimes. Doesn't it always seem to accentuate the drama in Hollywood?

I'd bet that it certainly deepens the moments in a lot of people's lives. The upside down kiss in Spiderman....I'm going to argue that that kiss was made perfect because of the presence of rain. What about Shawshank Redemption? The rain scene near the end when the main prisoner finally, finally breaks free as he lifts his arms to the sky without a shirt on? Priceless. And...what about Singin' in the Rain?? Don Lockwood celebrates one of most amazing rain scenes, with an umbrella and top hat, no less. Poignant.

One day, I will celebrate my rain moment. Oh yes. It's on my list of Things To Do Before I Die, so I suppose it will happen. And what better place to celebrate the rain than in Dreary Erie?

words of wisdom from the roommate...

...Everything is going to be okay.