Xuebing Du
KIROKAZE
taylor price

Janaina Medeiros
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
wallacepolsom

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

blake kathryn

No title available
NASA

⁂

Kiana Khansmith

titsay
Jules of Nature
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

★
cherry valley forever
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
occasionally subtle

#extradirty

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@scalicilit
Journal idea for the week...
Game of things
Freewrite warmup (picture)
Quote Lounge
Sequence of Events (free/slam)
See, I wish I could say there was a sequence of events. Beginning-middle-end. That's how all good stories go, right? But there wasn't. There was the truth, which was the past. There was the present which was my soaked high tops treading through grass in an abandoned park at midnight. And the circle of trees surrounding the stone where we sat, four bodies, back to back. Heads tilted upward towards the sky, but not the sky, because the trees tilted inward and covered stars which made the moment less cliche. There was the stone where she found god and eight year olds drew pictures that don't fit the mold. Our heads all leaned on each other... whose eyes were closed, whose were open? There is past present, and rare moments that are neither. Moments that don't fit into a definition of time. Moments that expand into space, and look like abstract paintings in my mind. I didn't want to say a word. I wanted to live in that extended piece of space and never leave, and words would break me out of my haze… but of course words came. We talked about politics and pain, crying while we clasped alcohol bought from a dingy deli that prides itself in selling to minors. They were lightweights. I wasn't. But I was glad for that. Because I saw clearly with heightened senses- I saw her pale face in the dark like Snow White. I saw her imperfections clearly for the first time- she wasn't holding anything back. I knew she had seen those imperfections a million times, knew them by heart, counted them like stars in the cliche sky. Tears wobbled down her cheeks. She could not stop the words flowing like vomit from her mouth, the kind of vomit that makes you feel less sick after it's out. The best part was we could be honest without alcohol- we knew how to be real. She told me the hidden truth before we bought bottles. People drink because they want to be honest, right? Because they want no inhibition? But that's how we were together sober. So I don't know why we drank. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe some people really don't know why they do it, they just do. But in that abstract painting suspended in time I saw the god that she saw at 8 years old. Right there in that clearing I saw clearly/ we peed in the field because they said it was a rite of passage/the waterfall /police beaming lights /scared shitless /I'm the baby /who am I /who are we /how did this happen /dreams are based in reality /was that reality /diner at 2am /milkshake I didn't taste /looking at myself in the mirror I didn't recognize the face /I saw with mussed hair and glazed eyes /the menu was blurry /and I knew the truth and the clarity was gone /and I learned the truth once more/ she loved him / did I love him/ I never loved him/ I never loved anyone/ who was he anyway/ am I glad it took so long? /The truth hurts but what hurts more is not knowing /is being left from the truth /but it was in my best interest and thank god I didn't know. It hurts to feel that I was living an illusion and there was an underground life I never knew /but in a way it made sense that I found out on the subway/ on the way to the future. But despite all imperfections I love the night, the abstract unstarry night, and because of her imperfections I love her, I love all of them. It's hard to love people so much because I feel everything when I'm with them, the way they talk and laugh... I just soak it in. I feel pangs in my stomach of some emotion maybe it's appreciation or admiration or maybe we were meant to be best friends. I don't think I believe in "meant to be"s but that abstract night was so flawlessly flawed it was sacred, and I don't want words to ruin something sacred but words are me and I am words and I need them- without words I would be nothing. So here. Here are my words. They aren't abstract like that night I would redo a million times. Or maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe it was sacred because it could only happen once. And there are only so many nights in our lives that lack a sequence of events.
Fortune Cookie Warmup
"Writing Prompts that Don't Suck"
"The scary thing about distance is that over time, we trick our minds into thinking that a person is less important than they are. It’s a defense mechanism against losing a person that meant the world."
My toes were numb, even in my socks, and my eyes drooped, highlighting the fragile skin that hung below them, residue of too many introspective nights. Staring into the toothpaste stained mirror, I wondered how I had become this girl: so unconcerned with moments that I had once embraced with...
One of my free-writes from 2013...
Please hear me, Girl: The world has enough women who know how to do their hair. It needs women who know how to do hard and holy things.
- Ann Voskamp (via thedelightedpeople)
"The List"
Sounds of school
Log- Ragtime/Research
The research that I had to do to supplement my reading of Ragtime didn't enhance my reading experience at all. I found that the book depicted all of the characters in a much more intimate, fascinating way than Wikipedia could ever dream of doing. I'm glad, though, that I decided to do the research after finishing the entire book. I opened up that first page with a clean slate and an open mind, which is how, I believe, most books should be read. This allowed me to fully consume the contents of each page without any pretense. This strategy, of coming into something with an open mind, is something I delved into this summer. The Hebrew word "hefker" means to be ownerless, chainless, and free of any biases. This concept of being hefker is a complicated one, both in literature and in life. Imagine going into a political conversation without any prior knowledge about the subject, and no strong beliefs that would make you more inclined to choose a side. How much more open would you be to listening to other peoples' viewpoints with appreciation and curiosity? In examining the idea of being completely unchained, it's clear that most people don't follow this principle. We each have a story, emotional attachments, biases, and political affiliations. Each one of us judges other people's opinions based on our own calculated perspectives. But how can society advance if so many humans are not willing to be hefker, not willing to be totally open to other opinions? It's true that being completely free is nearly impossible, especially nowadays in the age of technology (when opinions and arguments spread like an infectious spider bite), but it can also be quite dangerous. All of the positive aspects still remain, like reading a book with wide open eyes, or listening to someone else with open ears. However, there are times when prior research must be done, and being hefker is perilous. To be one hundred percent unchained could also be called being naive. Naivety, in children, is to be expected. But as time goes on, it becomes less tolerated, and could be mistaken for ignorance. In the case of the novel, Ragtime, I'm elated that I could go into this reading experience pure of mind- allowing me to digest every scene and character without any judgement. There are times in my life that I wish I could go into without any prior research- being totally hefker. But how hefker can I be in a cutthroat society that sags heavily with judgement?
Last year, I was on the debate team and I participated in Public Forum debates. This is essentially two teams of two, each assigned a position on a topic, arguing to the death- each trying to make the other look like a grade A idiot. My partner and I were nearly undefeated in the season, and we even went to nationals. But this year, I simply can't do it again. The thought of the mere concept makes my stomach writhe in guilt and sadness. Thinking back, I can't believe that I spent hours upon hours constructing a case about something I didn't care about or believe in, with the final goal of making myself look better for others in front of judges. I believe that this is one of the reasons peace is so difficult to achieve- people are more concerned with their pride and "winning" discussions, instead of trying to reach viable agreements or make progress. What does that say about our world? I'm embarrassed to have partaken in something that I find so disgraceful. This also plays into the concept of hefker- debate seems to be the exact opposite. Instead of walking into the room curious, excited to gain new knowledge and discuss it, debate encourages people to saunter in thinking that their way is the only way. If we continue to promote this, our society will regress- not the other way around.
Sounds of school
6 word stories