Inspiration comes when friends follow their dreams. Writing helps me escape from reality into the world my mind creates, even if it is only for brief bursts at a time.
Don't Touch My Stereo
I’m not a musician. As a matter of fact, for having taken over two years of childhood lessons, I can only play one song on the piano and all I can still play on saxophone is part of my high school fight song . Those are my musical limits. And please don’t ever ask me to sing. I might think I can carry a tune, but so did a lot of people who tried out for American Idol- and I never had the encouragement they were given from overzealous parents. Having said all that though, I did grow up listening to and falling in love with several types of music, from my dad’s favorite Motown hits to my mom’s favorite Christmas tunes. Having grown up in the cassette tape era, I still have a lot of my mixtapes, which I’ve since converted to burned CD’s and then to iTunes and/or Spotify playlists. Those mixes fall in different genres and span different periods in my life. The songs they contain are time machines that instantly take my thoughts to years gone by, even to short-lived moments of adventure, falling in love, heartbreak, and rebirth.
When he sat down next to me at the bar, his mysticism gently radiated in my direction. Distracted by his clean-shaven face, thin lips, and well-spoken air, I barely noticed his fiery, ginger hair. In an instant, time swept me away. Now I look upon that same vivid, red hair- a young woman, at the altar. Still fresh-faced, her father standing beside her responds to the officiant’s question, “her mother and I do.”
Santorini ebbs to Aegean's faint acker, blue in unison
House on Marble Street
The beginning of my story is the end of James’. It started this morning with lawnmowers, chainsaws, drills, and drones. Since all the states have moved to the Postal Drone Delivery Service, it made sense that parts of the town would be overrun by the buzzing noise. (With the advancements in technology, they should be a much quieter machine.) But they weren’t quiet today, and along with the other noises of suburbia, it was making it especially hard for me to catch some much-needed shuteye. After I moved to the graveyard shift at the hospital, I knew sleeping during the daytime would take some getting used to, but these unexpected, and unnecessary, noises have been making it near impossible to rest. And today the drone noises sounded particularly close.