Letters to myself
A week before graduation (wow, six months ago?), a creative writing professor asked us to write letters to send to ourselves. I’d gotten mine in September, and it’s taped to the wall, right above my writing desk. Whenever I hit a writer’s block, I look up from my computer screen and stare at this letter.…
Fleeting Thoughts: A Spark
Many New Yorkers seem to have resting bitch faces. I see people wearing their masks while riding on the subway and walking down the street. It looks like they’re dead inside. And I’ve been closing myself off, too, when I go back to my Brooklyn apartment alone, when men on the street—with seemingly no other place to…
Add to your ‘list of things to do immediately’: Attend a Too Many Zooz performance
Leo P. knows how to move. That was one thing I noticed at last Saturday’s Too Many Zooz concert at SOB’s on Varick Street. It’s not the most important detail, but it might be one that can explain Too Many Zooz’ rising popularity.
In search of a writing community
I don’t want writing to prevent me from meeting people; I decided that writing should help me meet people.
Tuesday dance classes
Before graduation, my creative writing professor said that people who go into publishing rarely succeed in becoming writers. Not that they don’t have talent, but because they’re so busy nurturing someone else’s writing that they forget about their own. My professor told me I should not waste my talent. After that, he said I should…
A bit lonely here
I know how to be alone. As a third grader battling crippling shyness, I’d usually sink into a bean bag chair during recess time and read while my classmates played kickball outside. I felt somewhat safer being by myself; I lived on a separate and imagined plane, where there was no noise but the sound…
I felt and saw everything that I’d normally tune out if I was in a familiar setting: personal spaces being invaded; rap music blaring from Beats—so loud that its bass causes your arms’ hairs to tingle; seated people staring at crotches and asses of standing people; and inevitable leers from gross individuals.
Moving to Brooklyn
While moving into my apartment in Brooklyn today, a wedding was happening outside. What a coincidence—two monumental events, two new beginnings. As I unpacked my things, the groom and the bride (Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle Clark) danced to Chris de Burgh’s “Lady in Red.” Now, as night takes over, wedding goers are dancing to salsa music, which,…
Someday, what we did will matter.
Someday, what we did will matter. During one of Fairfield University’s Senior Week events, I was asked to write a six-word story to summarize my experience at Fairfield University. So I harnessed my budding poetic powers, which I acquired after taking a class with Professor Carol Ann Davis, and this was the result. I wonder what Hemingway would think of…