Routine

Maybe it was her inexplicable fear of the London underground or the way she refused to fill the kitchen sink with soapy water, or the fact that she couldn’t walk into a room if I wasn’t there to turn the light on for her. I sat across from her at the same cramped table every night for three years, watching as she dissected her stir-fry into the “edible” and the “non-edible”. She didn’t even notice that she was doing it, too concerned with relaying every monotonous detail of her day back to me. I often glanced down at my own plate, suddenly aware of the disorganized mess of vegetable and noodle, wondering when she would reach over and try to make mine like hers. She counted the syllables in each of her words, speaking in carefully crafted haikus that spilled from her lips, along with the bubbling laughter that followed the realization of her unconscious poetry.

Sometimes I thought about how it would feel to wake up without her arms draped across my chest, or her cactus staring at me from the windowsill as we made love. I pondered the emptiness of my apartment without her oil paintings and unread books lining the back of the sofa. The more I considered her absence, the more I could feel myself clinging to her as I slept. I burrowed into the hollow of her back, the slope of her neck, and the backs of her knees. I prayed that some of her goodness would rub off on me by the morning, and that changes everything.

writing

fiction, prose, short story, writing

May 27, 2012

1 Comment

The Girl Who Never Stops

Time - (n) something of which I will never have enough.

Late at night, while seated in front of my computer aimlessly browsing the Internet, my mind tends to wander to softer areas of thought. Just as I become wrapped up in memories of warm nights, dark rooms, and boisterous laughter, a gentle ticking pierces my stream of consciousness.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

I keep forgetting that I have a pocket watch, and every time I forget, the ticking creeps up on me when I’m at my most vulnerable. It is a constant reminder of how little time I have left to do so many things, and yet it just keeps ticking away. I’m finding it difficult to stay on schedule with all of the projects I am involved in, but I refuse to admit defeat just yet.

Perhaps my restlessness in class this semester has lead me to sign up for too many extracurriculars and side projects to the point where I am now struggling to manage my thoughts, my commitments, and my self. I have always had periods of extreme boredom followed by overwhelming business, so I am no stranger to this juggling act. This time, however, I have to take others into consideration. Previously, I only had myself to think of, and now I am finding it hard to have to tell people I simply cannot hangout.

As always, it’s easier to hangout with people you see multiple times during the week, so it’s no wonder why I’ve only been socialising with the same group of film students for the past month. Our schedules just line up so perfectly that it wouldn’t make sense to go out of my way to reconnect with some friends that are outside of this film student circle, and I’ll really only make an exception if I’m being pressured or I really like the person who wants to hangout. I can be lazy when it comes to friendship.

With that being said, I’m definitely spreading myself too thin, but I am desperate to make it all work out.

“Always in motion is the future.” – Yoda

personal

October 5, 2011

2 Comments

The flame is not out, but it is flickering.

It’s not very often that I manage to convince myself to sit down and take some time out to write about myself in more than one hundred and forty characters on Twitter, so I’m just as apprehensive as you might be about this whole ~blogging~ business. With that being said, let’s get right into the thick of things.

There are many variables to my life which seem to fluctuate at the slightest victory, but also at the tiniest defeat. As it may be apparent through twitter, I am back at University and I’ve been trying to keep myself busy with trivial things like schoolwork and extracurricular activities, but I don’t think it’s working very well.

Right now I am taking five film classes, but I find that I am not being challenged as much as I would like. Multiple times during the week, I can be found resting my chin in my hand in an attempt to withstand the waves of sleep that seem to roll over me with such disdain for lecture halls and textbooks, that doodling has become my best defense against them. I have turned the margins of my notebooks into a labyrinth of dilapidated words and cheery animals. My “notes”, if you could call them that, teem with life and are filled with ballpoint pen drawings and designs, causing me to wonder if I really gained any new information over the three hours of that last lecture.

In reality, the biggest hurdle I have had to face this semester has been to convince myself to wake up in time to attend class. While I do enjoy my professors, the company of my classmates, and (occasionally) learning about films, I am nowhere near satisfied. It occurred to me that perhaps my classes this semester relate to one another a bit too closely, which would help explain my ever-growing contempt for the 180 degree rule, the rule of thirds, and coverage. I have heard these three topics in multiple lectures, where each topic has been exhausted and discussed ad nauseam. My brain has been gnawing on these meager bones for quite some time and is looking for a thick and juicy chunk of film discussion to chew on for a bit.

It appears as though these “distractions” (i.e. school, film club, etc) are not nearly enough to keep my wandering mind off of the many social networks I find myself posting to rather frequently. I sometimes worry that I am becoming unbearable on Twitter, and everyone is tolerating my loquaciousness until I eventually run out of steam and calm down for a small amount of time. There’s not much I can do when it comes to stamping out this abhorrent flame, and I’ll be honest when I say that I am just as annoyed with it as you are. The best I can do is acknowledge the problem and cross my fingers that it will sort itself out.

I mean, a fire can’t possibly burn forever, right?

“Happiness consumes itself like a flame. It cannot burn for ever, it must go out, and the presentiment of its end destroys it at its very peak.“ -August Strindberg

Uncategorized

September 18, 2011

4 Comments