As I turn 17 tomorrow, I am reminded of how desperately I wish to be 3 years old again. I wish I still went to Maiding Cove School, and went to Jack's house afterwards. I wish Stacey was still around to watch us. I wish Jack would pull me behind the couch like he used to and tell me that he loves me. I wish didn't know what being worried feels like. I wish I was just learning to swim today. I wish I could still eat popcorn eggs, in all their ironic, yellow-y goodness. I wish Mom was still working upstairs, at her green computer, talking on the phone all day long. I wish I was still tiny, and able to fit into my old, purple dresses and shirts. I wish the Chili Peppers still played on the radio, and Arthur was still on T.V.. I wish my room was still green, with the sea animal wall paper. I wish Rachel was still alive, and Anne was still innocent and free. I wish Anna never met Elizabeth. I wish time remembered how to stop, again.
I love the detail in this piece, Emily. The voice of the child that you use here is very vivid and you. It might be interesting to expand on the characters you mention- especially Rachel and Anne. Also, while the repetition is powerful but it's a little excessive. Good work!
I wish that I could experience the feeling of reading a great sentence for the first time over and over again. It releases some endorphin or drug within my body and gives me a high like no other. Yes, I am aware of how nerdy this is. But that feeling of having the perfect words enter you in exactly the right order, entering your mind, your soul- your entire body and being... When words bring you to tears, give you shivers, make you physically react to the way they are constructed and transport you to a passionate world of sensation... That is the feeling I crave. I wish I could get that high on command, it would really help with all this stress.
I wish I wasn't lonely. Its almost preposterous. Im surrounded by people nearly all of the time, but those quiet moments are the ones that kill me. The ones that are so silent they scream at you. As I lie in bed, trying not think, I then begin to think about how I'm thinking about not thinking, and the internal words build up and burst out in the form of silence, then getting out of bed to wander out into the hall, clutching the rail while trudging down the stairs, and to the fridge for a glass of water. These are the moments when the most dangerous thoughts surface. How much can I get away with, how far can I push someone without them cracking, how much do I actually care. They disappear as fast they come, like the a dolphin coming up for a quick breath before diving back down. But those thoughts are there. And they scream.
I wish time would slow down. The days become months and the months, years. I miss the soft personalized pillows that I spent my day on in EC. I miss snack time and recess and finger painting. I long for the days when my best friend had a bowl cut and no body cared. Today her hair is long, glamorous; "omigod wow your hair is so tumbler." There were times when comfort was key and overalls were the epitome of style. I remember when looking in the mirror was not a daily requirement, and when I did it was not in the presence of a malicious inner voice. I wish Oreos were still milk's favorite cookie, which my small fingers grasped, desperate to avoid having to reach wrist deep into my glass to rescue my after dinner pal. I wish I rode on my dad's shoulders, still enjoying the true view from the top. I was weightless and carefree. Every summer morning, after password I would wait for my dad, always the last out of the building. I stood on the bench just outside the door, when he emerged he said "you read little bunny" and he passed me his coffee cup. As he crouched I swung my legs over his shoulders and together we marched down to breakfast. I miss running down the hill from piny brow, hurdling the familiar roots without even looking down to get a visual. I reached the grass and my toes got cold with summer dew. As 150 boys marched to the chapel I followed rank, the road's sand sticking to my moist sandals and toes. I wish I could record every feeling of every moment. There is so much I've done that I want to remember, so many sensations that are irreplaceable. I fear each day memories grow more faint, I wish I could lock them away.
I wish the definition of "normal" wasn't so rigid. Some certain people are considered to be this perfect definition of normal, and others are ostracized for being "weird". I think we all do things that someone, somewhere, would consider to be strange. My favorite hobby will sometimes involve removing all the hair from my arms so that my gray body paint won't hurt like hell when I take it off at the end of the day. Anyone reading this now probably thinks I'm insane, but to another group of people, doing this is completely normal and understandable. I find it weird when people get overly aggressive about sports, but to them and many others that is also normal and understandable, and I think that's sort of beautiful. I don't consider myself to be abnormal, and I don't think most people do either. I think it's nice how we're all a little weird in different ways, and I wish that wasn't, on occasion, thought of as a bad thing.
"I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had a girl if I did I would call her." No, but seriously, sometimes I wish I would slow down and take life a little bit LESS seriously. I have found myself constantly stressed, in a mindset of "future", rather than present, and I am sure many of my peers feel the same. With college applications and admittance looming, the pressure of performing well (whether in regard to SAT scores, GPA, college essays, academic performance, sports, etc) is coming on stronger than ever. As cliche as it may be, sometimes the best thing for us is to keep things light and have a good laugh, maybe even laugh at ourselves, and how seriously we take ourselves and our lives.
I wish I were able to step back with more ease and regularity and take a moment to contemplate how fortunate I am-how fortunate we all are. I've never once been in serious want of food. Our nation's healthcare system, while certainly not without its administrative flaws, provides effective care for everyone in need. Clean water is available at the turn of a handle. We bemoan our ill fortune when we score poorly on a test or have difficulties with a friend while others fight for life. We need to be more in touch with our good fortune.
I just spent ten minutes ranting about laundry, proceeded to click the wrong button, and finally gasped in breathless despair as I realized I had just terminated a piece I rather enjoyed. Oh bollocks. Well I never really enjoyed eating beets anyway, but you know what I've always enjoyed? Non-sequiturs! Yes, let's see. Last night I had a dream I was a pirate. I'm not sure if it is some sort of metaphor for my life though. I've certainly never scoured the seas for pirate booty. I do enjoy searching the pantries for food however. The other day I was in the restaurant waiting for the business to cool down so I could order some Thai entree (as would be expected of a Thai restaurant) when I noticed a little baked good lying in waits. In a little paper box, it waited. What are you waiting for you tasty little number? It was brown and a bit glazed, with wooden swirls that popped out towards you. Yes, not wooden like a bench but wooden like the bark of a toasted crunchy tree. It's being bulged with what my mouth would discover to be apple jam. Yum. With maybe a tenth of the time it took me to write that description, I had snatched it up into my mouth and eaten it without so much as a caring afterthought past, "what shall I consume next?" Like a mouse I began to search in vane for something more to enjoy. A few stale crackers here, questionable chicken fingers there, some soy sauce next to the tea set. The restaurant still breathed customers into its lungs and hunger still pulsed through my veins like plasma.
Whether or not your story about your deleted post is true, this is a great piece of writing, James. The repeated non-sequiturs near the beginning set off a tone of humor that is carried out throughout the writing. One thing I love about your writing is the personification which you tend to lend to inanimate objects. You seem to consistently think of inventive ways to breathe life into places or objects.
I've always been an 11:11 wisher, a shooting star hunter, and a birthday candle saviorer. I love wishes. Still, I have a weird though process surrounding them. I imagine what would happen when the wish came true: if I wish for a million dollars, will I actually be more happy than I was before? If I wish to get into the college I want to get into, will I be unhappy because I actually belonged somewhere else? If I wish for world peace or the end of world hunger what would the price of that be? A nuclear war? An extreme disease? So, I wish for good days, because nothing can go wrong.
Sometimes I wish that I was not a part of the world of which I am. Not in the planetary sense, but in the social. This feeling comes in waves, which horrifies me because it means that I don't notice it all the time. Every now and then, however, it hits me hard. When I look at the feet of a class room and see 30 boat shoes. When my homeroom complains about Hannaford cake and begs me to go Whole Foods. Sometimes I wish that I was back with my old friends, dressed in sweatshirts and shorts 365 days a year, drinking Hannaford brand soda. But its not just the luxurious taste that sickens me. Even more so than my wish above, I wish that I didn't operate in an atmosphere where the try-hard attitude is so readily accepted by the student body.
As a question rings out (What does UNESCO stand for?), four desks nearly capsize due to the velocity with which four hands are raised. Four mouths gradually increase in pace and volume as they attempt to out-shout one and other: “United Nations EDUCATIONAL, SCIENTIFIC ANDCULTURALORGANIZATION”. The bubbly white foam around the four mouths is a sight one grows accustomed to attending Waynflete. On any given “Respond to two out of these seven prompts” assignments, all seven will be responded to by at least one student, sometimes with the Wikipedia citations accidentally still left in.
It's not intelligence that I wish I didn't have to encounter, but sly, grinning one-upmanship. A primeval ascertain of intellectual dominance, if intellectual means syllables said per square minute. I appreciate intelligence hidden away, light footsteps masking a big stick. What would have happened if I had taken a different route? Would I be in the back row of home ec, shooting spitballs, cleverly hiding my AP Calculus homework from sight? Perhaps. Who is to say? But as I reflect, I realize that I am submerged in this elitist world completely. Down to my romanticization of the lives of those less fortunate than me, I can not implicate others without implicating myself.
As I turn 17 tomorrow, I am reminded of how desperately I wish to be 3 years old again. I wish I still went to Maiding Cove School, and went to Jack's house afterwards. I wish Stacey was still around to watch us. I wish Jack would pull me behind the couch like he used to and tell me that he loves me. I wish didn't know what being worried feels like. I wish I was just learning to swim today. I wish I could still eat popcorn eggs, in all their ironic, yellow-y goodness. I wish Mom was still working upstairs, at her green computer, talking on the phone all day long. I wish I was still tiny, and able to fit into my old, purple dresses and shirts. I wish the Chili Peppers still played on the radio, and Arthur was still on T.V.. I wish my room was still green, with the sea animal wall paper. I wish Rachel was still alive, and Anne was still innocent and free. I wish Anna never met Elizabeth. I wish time remembered how to stop, again.
ReplyDeleteI love the detail in this piece, Emily. The voice of the child that you use here is very vivid and you. It might be interesting to expand on the characters you mention- especially Rachel and Anne. Also, while the repetition is powerful but it's a little excessive. Good work!
DeleteI wish that I could experience the feeling of reading a great sentence for the first time over and over again. It releases some endorphin or drug within my body and gives me a high like no other. Yes, I am aware of how nerdy this is. But that feeling of having the perfect words enter you in exactly the right order, entering your mind, your soul- your entire body and being... When words bring you to tears, give you shivers, make you physically react to the way they are constructed and transport you to a passionate world of sensation... That is the feeling I crave. I wish I could get that high on command, it would really help with all this stress.
ReplyDeleteI wish I wasn't lonely. Its almost preposterous. Im surrounded by people nearly all of the time, but those quiet moments are the ones that kill me. The ones that are so silent they scream at you. As I lie in bed, trying not think, I then begin to think about how I'm thinking about not thinking, and the internal words build up and burst out in the form of silence, then getting out of bed to wander out into the hall, clutching the rail while trudging down the stairs, and to the fridge for a glass of water. These are the moments when the most dangerous thoughts surface. How much can I get away with, how far can I push someone without them cracking, how much do I actually care. They disappear as fast they come, like the a dolphin coming up for a quick breath before diving back down. But those thoughts are there. And they scream.
ReplyDeleteI wish time would slow down. The days become months and the months, years. I miss the soft personalized pillows that I spent my day on in EC. I miss snack time and recess and finger painting. I long for the days when my best friend had a bowl cut and no body cared. Today her hair is long, glamorous; "omigod wow your hair is so tumbler." There were times when comfort was key and overalls were the epitome of style. I remember when looking in the mirror was not a daily requirement, and when I did it was not in the presence of a malicious inner voice. I wish Oreos were still milk's favorite cookie, which my small fingers grasped, desperate to avoid having to reach wrist deep into my glass to rescue my after dinner pal. I wish I rode on my dad's shoulders, still enjoying the true view from the top. I was weightless and carefree. Every summer morning, after password I would wait for my dad, always the last out of the building. I stood on the bench just outside the door, when he emerged he said "you read little bunny" and he passed me his coffee cup. As he crouched I swung my legs over his shoulders and together we marched down to breakfast. I miss running down the hill from piny brow, hurdling the familiar roots without even looking down to get a visual. I reached the grass and my toes got cold with summer dew. As 150 boys marched to the chapel I followed rank, the road's sand sticking to my moist sandals and toes. I wish I could record every feeling of every moment. There is so much I've done that I want to remember, so many sensations that are irreplaceable. I fear each day memories grow more faint, I wish I could lock them away.
ReplyDeleteI wish the definition of "normal" wasn't so rigid. Some certain people are considered to be this perfect definition of normal, and others are ostracized for being "weird". I think we all do things that someone, somewhere, would consider to be strange. My favorite hobby will sometimes involve removing all the hair from my arms so that my gray body paint won't hurt like hell when I take it off at the end of the day. Anyone reading this now probably thinks I'm insane, but to another group of people, doing this is completely normal and understandable. I find it weird when people get overly aggressive about sports, but to them and many others that is also normal and understandable, and I think that's sort of beautiful. I don't consider myself to be abnormal, and I don't think most people do either. I think it's nice how we're all a little weird in different ways, and I wish that wasn't, on occasion, thought of as a bad thing.
ReplyDelete"I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had a girl if I did I would call her." No, but seriously, sometimes I wish I would slow down and take life a little bit LESS seriously. I have found myself constantly stressed, in a mindset of "future", rather than present, and I am sure many of my peers feel the same. With college applications and admittance looming, the pressure of performing well (whether in regard to SAT scores, GPA, college essays, academic performance, sports, etc) is coming on stronger than ever. As cliche as it may be, sometimes the best thing for us is to keep things light and have a good laugh, maybe even laugh at ourselves, and how seriously we take ourselves and our lives.
ReplyDeleteI wish I were able to step back with more ease and regularity and take a moment to contemplate how fortunate I am-how fortunate we all are. I've never once been in serious want of food. Our nation's healthcare system, while certainly not without its administrative flaws, provides effective care for everyone in need. Clean water is available at the turn of a handle. We bemoan our ill fortune when we score poorly on a test or have difficulties with a friend while others fight for life. We need to be more in touch with our good fortune.
ReplyDeleteI just spent ten minutes ranting about laundry, proceeded to click the wrong button, and finally gasped in breathless despair as I realized I had just terminated a piece I rather enjoyed. Oh bollocks. Well I never really enjoyed eating beets anyway, but you know what I've always enjoyed? Non-sequiturs! Yes, let's see.
ReplyDeleteLast night I had a dream I was a pirate. I'm not sure if it is some sort of metaphor for my life though. I've certainly never scoured the seas for pirate booty. I do enjoy searching the pantries for food however. The other day I was in the restaurant waiting for the business to cool down so I could order some Thai entree (as would be expected of a Thai restaurant) when I noticed a little baked good lying in waits. In a little paper box, it waited. What are you waiting for you tasty little number? It was brown and a bit glazed, with wooden swirls that popped out towards you. Yes, not wooden like a bench but wooden like the bark of a toasted crunchy tree. It's being bulged with what my mouth would discover to be apple jam. Yum. With maybe a tenth of the time it took me to write that description, I had snatched it up into my mouth and eaten it without so much as a caring afterthought past, "what shall I consume next?" Like a mouse I began to search in vane for something more to enjoy. A few stale crackers here, questionable chicken fingers there, some soy sauce next to the tea set. The restaurant still breathed customers into its lungs and hunger still pulsed through my veins like plasma.
Whether or not your story about your deleted post is true, this is a great piece of writing, James. The repeated non-sequiturs near the beginning set off a tone of humor that is carried out throughout the writing. One thing I love about your writing is the personification which you tend to lend to inanimate objects. You seem to consistently think of inventive ways to breathe life into places or objects.
DeleteI've always been an 11:11 wisher, a shooting star hunter, and a birthday candle saviorer. I love wishes. Still, I have a weird though process surrounding them. I imagine what would happen when the wish came true: if I wish for a million dollars, will I actually be more happy than I was before? If I wish to get into the college I want to get into, will I be unhappy because I actually belonged somewhere else? If I wish for world peace or the end of world hunger what would the price of that be? A nuclear war? An extreme disease? So, I wish for good days, because nothing can go wrong.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I wish that I was not a part of the world of which I am. Not in the planetary sense, but in the social. This feeling comes in waves, which horrifies me because it means that I don't notice it all the time. Every now and then, however, it hits me hard. When I look at the feet of a class room and see 30 boat shoes. When my homeroom complains about Hannaford cake and begs me to go Whole Foods. Sometimes I wish that I was back with my old friends, dressed in sweatshirts and shorts 365 days a year, drinking Hannaford brand soda. But its not just the luxurious taste that sickens me. Even more so than my wish above, I wish that I didn't operate in an atmosphere where the try-hard attitude is so readily accepted by the student body.
ReplyDeleteAs a question rings out (What does UNESCO stand for?), four desks nearly capsize due to the velocity with which four hands are raised. Four mouths gradually increase in pace and volume as they attempt to out-shout one and other: “United Nations EDUCATIONAL, SCIENTIFIC ANDCULTURALORGANIZATION”. The bubbly white foam around the four mouths is a sight one grows accustomed to attending Waynflete. On any given “Respond to two out of these seven prompts” assignments, all seven will be responded to by at least one student, sometimes with the Wikipedia citations accidentally still left in.
It's not intelligence that I wish I didn't have to encounter, but sly, grinning one-upmanship. A primeval ascertain of intellectual dominance, if intellectual means syllables said per square minute. I appreciate intelligence hidden away, light footsteps masking a big stick.
What would have happened if I had taken a different route? Would I be in the back row of home ec, shooting spitballs, cleverly hiding my AP Calculus homework from sight? Perhaps. Who is to say?
But as I reflect, I realize that I am submerged in this elitist world completely. Down to my romanticization of the lives of those less fortunate than me, I can not implicate others without implicating myself.