Young, living - thriving? Writing every emotion, idea, or dream that intrigues me enough to put into a long string of words for others to absorb - in the hopes that someone relates, understands, and appreciates.
3:42 am Still Haunts Me
The Barn Owl? No, no, no, the Barred Owl. I can't tell you how many times I researched both, have listened to both calls to tell which one I had heard that night and had almost cried at the sound. And when I had found the YouTube video with the exact call that I had heard, I had never felt chills so violent or had cringed so hard at just the sound; as stupid as it may seem.
Mead & Chicken Legs
How could they be out of chicken legs? One of the biggest events in Pennsylvania that spans several weekends in the fall, and they run out of chicken legs?? Regardless if it was my first time at this event, I felt robbed of the experience because they ran out of chicken legs! I had to settle for mac-&-cheese and a ham and cheese baguette sandwich instead, which both were still delicious and satisfying enough. But, I suppose when you have hundreds to thousands of people attending this event over the course of the several weekends it takes place, you're going to run out of things.
"Things I Wish I Knew" Series
Welcome to the "Things I Wish I Knew" Series! This series will showcase a few tips, stories, and tricks into things and situations I wish I knew beforehand - but because I didn't, I'll share them with you! And I hope you'll be able to take away something from this series to help you in your own life's journey of firsts.
Alone It May Stand
What is it about the mossy wet wooden planks that hold the skeleton of a rotting humbling abode and the cob-web, dust-riddled windows that create so much wonder? It’s the feeling that affects me, which I cannot explain. It’s the beauty of the chipped paint and the discolored peeling wallpaper. It’s the disorganization of the strewn furniture that is pleasing to the eye. Yet what one would see is nothing but chaos and a tragic misfortune upon what was once called home. What I see is nothing more than history preserved. The house or estate is a simple reminder of a time that was; but now it sees months, years pass even after the fact. Abandoned it may be, alone it may stand, but never forgotten for memories still pace through its halls.
Hundreds and hundreds of miles on the sea. Hundreds and hundreds of hours. The sun that sets and the moon that rises, all familiar scenes. The stars will shine and twinkle. The waves will shift and rock. But keep your guard, and both eyes peeled for the shadows swimming below.
2020 Was a Year
It's one thing we can all agree on as a society, nationally and internationally, that 2020 sucked. It was a year when so many changes had to be made to the daily routine - if there was one left - changes that had to be made to adapt, to survive. There were certainly changes I had to make and adjust to in order to go about my day without the impending cloud of anxiety completely taking over my mental state and day overall. However, as young as I am in comparison, nothing I have ever learned in life could have prepared me for what I've been through thus far. And hopefully, my experiences and story can resonate with others out there and reassure that we're all not alone in this change, in this adaptation, in this survival of life.
I'm insane, I'm stressed, I'm far away in another galaxy being swallowed by a massive black hole as I stare lovingly and longingly at the moon. If I could marry the moon I would. My children would be the stars. My nightly walks with the one I love, lighting my way through the dark. Always being watched over, always safe. She does. She keeps me company late at night when I'm most vulnerable. Sees my scars. She's the one I look at when tears sting my eyes but never fall. She comes and goes, but when she leaves; there's always that promise of returning. I sing to her sometimes as she whispers of the songs to fill my ears, to distract. My icy breath visible as I look up to her the entire time, the melodies are sung softly; barely uttered with a strained voice. But, she understands, she knows, and she appreciates it; loves it. When I'm out with her, I walk hand-in-hand. Out is where I find love, peace, adoration, and comfort. My head always crooning up at the inky black sea to gaze upon my children. Shining bright as they carve pictures into the darkness. It's painful after a while. My neck bearing the weight of my head, my thoughts, but also because I can't gaze upon my children with pride forever. I wish I could. Sometimes my children dance by, that moment solidifying an opportunity to talk to them, to wish to be among them. But, for today, for now, this night; our love is only separated by this Earth. This inferno of life, with her waiting at the end.
The Brass Society
I. The badge was new as the young pilot removed it from the collar of his chestnut leather jacket. Slightly warm, too, the heat of the engravings still glowing from under his touch. A smirk graced his lips as he set it aside on the console of his airship. He knew this would happen. Join the airforce and within a month he'd get promoted to the elite squad. Captain Gil Hawkes, himself of the Argentum air force, had told him personally that he had high expectations for the young pilot. Of course, with a high status came the high ranked missions. He just never would have expected a mission like this.