Pictorial Thoughts

{ Sunday, January 30, 2011 }
I wanted to say 'run away with me,' away from the cynics, that this could be the start of something truly real. But all that I could say was 'hey.'


"I write for fear of silence. You carved a boat to sail my shadow, now I walk alone."

{ Thursday, January 27, 2011 }

Yes, it is one of those nights. One of those evenings where I watch Closer, contemplate my every move, and wonder where I'll wind up a week, month from now. I'm not downtrodden, nor am I exceptionally elated. I'm here, existing on a Thursday night. Rather than participating in the usual monotonous college debauchery, I am absorbing every word of "The Birth of Tragedy," and actually enjoying it!
It's one of those nights where I wish I could share the story of my life, heart full of honesty, and be listened to in return. To converse about the past, present, and future with complete confidence. I only wish I had a listener.
I could ponder love and wonder why some of us are temporarily destined to be lonely. I hopelessly hang onto the word "temporarily" and pray that it is, indeed, the truth. I could let my mind wander and calculate the possibility of someone laying in their bed, as I am now, thinking about the same things, and maybe even about me.

But honestly, I'm not that wonderful at math.

One of the nights where I could drive around aimlessly for hours, with no certain destination. I'd like to walk in the dark just to see my breath, or swing at a playground and soar into infinity.

I want to be infinite.


Caffeinated Sympathy

{ Monday, January 24, 2011 }
Coffee drenched evenings lead to staring into empty space.
Trying to devour the emptiness,
Filling it with the thoughts and desires that fuel the torment.
If only to be the eyes:
To see the immense worth you have grown blind towards.
If only to be the ears:
To be deafened by deeply buried confessions,
Fully enlightened and liberated.
The torment ensues,
Like a mighty cranial whirlwind.
My mouth cannot speak my mind,
And my mind cannot fathom my heart.
The torment reigns.


Tuesday Night Realizations

{ Tuesday, January 18, 2011 }
I've recently found myself sidetracked and taken aback by trivial issues beyond any control which is, in my humble opinion, quite a waste of time. My bright outlook for the semester remains intact, however, thanks to the smart, beautiful and kind girls I live with.
I tend to not get too sappy or sentimental on this blog, but I cannot help but pour out my heart for these three people who have supported me and made me smile everyday for the last five months.
Tarver- my roommate, the constant provider of tough love advice, the "mom" of the suite, maternal soul, and hippie at heart.
Lindsey- my sunshine, horoscope-loving, sweet suitemate, who only has the best intentions and the biggest heart I've ever known.
Whitney- my laughter, who can lighten any moment in the blink of an eye yet blow me away with her spiritual nature. I aim to be more like her and nurture my spirituality.
When I occasionally let my insecurities (yes, we all have them!) and life's minor curve balls set me off course, I have an irreplaceable support system that means the world to me.
I cannot wait to see how each of our stories unfold, together or apart.

I am so incredibly lucky.


"I write for fear of silence. You carved a boat to sail my shadow, now I walk alone." -Young The Giant

{ Monday, January 17, 2011 }
It takes a lot for me to shamelessly promote a band or creative endeavor on this blog, and Young The Giant is certainly worthy of my bountiful praise. I discovered the indie gem over a year ago through music hunting site http://www.thesixtyone.com/, and have been hooked since.
Something instantly clicked inside of me the second I began listening to "Cough Syrup," and my ears yearned for more. Being a longtime advocate for independent musicians, I began to plug little bits about Young The Giant into random blog posts, and readers were pleased with the band's refreshing jazz-infused indie rock.
Last May, I had the pleasure of seeing Young The Giant live when they opened for Minus The Bear at the Variety Playhouse in Atlanta. It was a wonderful to finally experience such raw talent mere feet from where I stood in the venue. Right then and there, I knew this band was going places much larger than an underground venue.
A week ago Young The Giant made its television debut as the house band on Jimmy Kimmel live. Needless to say, I was thrilled! The band announced its first headlining tour shortly after, and will be playing club venue shows throughout the spring.
It's an amazing thing, really, to watch a band progress and grow right before your eyes. I cannot wait to see the band play in Atlanta on March 12th- my birthday celebration!
In the meantime, I introduce you to Young The Giant- indie rock extraordinaire. One of the best live bands I have yet to experience.



The Sentence

{ Sunday, January 16, 2011 }
Six months of solitude has taken its toll.
Hollow insides beg for phantom heartbeats,
Any palpitation a vital sign of hope.
Saturated with optimism
And harshly rung out one too many times.
The ghosts continue their haunting,
Whispering familiar sweet nothings-turned-curses.
Memory lane has become death row
And we forever walk alone.


"I’ll Love You ‘Til the Cows Come Home”: A Memoir

{ Tuesday, January 11, 2011 }
I've been itching to feature more creative writing on this blog rather than personal posts, and I believe this work is a decent start. I wrote this narrative over a year ago, but it remains near and dear to my heart. Without further ado, the memoir.

My childhood was not marked by an overabundance of playthings or extravagant five-year-old birthday parties, but by experiences. The feeling of endless, raw sand beneath my feet, crisp wind stinging my cheeks while plummeting down a roller coaster, the incomparable warmth of my grandmother’s embrace. None of these irreplaceable memories would have been made possible without my father, the man who learned the simple facts in life and lived by them, who taught me the true meaning of Southern comfort and the beauty of having a tight-knit family.
My father has always emphasized the importance of love and other simple pleasures in life, one of his favorites being family gatherings. I can recall one of my earliest Thanksgivings on a distant cousin’s farm, a glorious autumn night just before twilight swarmed the horizon. My father and I stealthily snuck out of the warm and lively house full of kinship, and I recall his hands, two measures of tenderness, holding mine and guiding me outside into the dusty, green pastures. There we stood, my tiny hands resting upon the dilapidated fence, together. It was then that we began to “call the cows in,” our ritual that I secretly looked forward to even more than my aunt’s infamous, to-die-for turkey. Giving our best efforts at our “moos,” my father and I successfully lured the speckled cows to the fence we stood behind. He laughed as I awkwardly squirmed and giggled at the touch of the cow’s buttery-soft, warm snout. My father looked upon me with crinkled, kindred eyes and in that moment I realized he loved and thought himself beloved, and I wished, for our sake, that feeling would last between us eternally.
Over a decade of family dinners and Thanksgivings have faded into the distant past since that night, and so has my closeness to my father. Long school days and nights out with friends have replaced cartoon-watching marathons and building pillow forts. There are larger worries in life now than skinned knees and losing baby teeth, and we both know that. My father copes by wielding a bitter silence, while my solution is distance. We silently refuse to believe that the future years had come, dancing to a frenzied drum out of the murderous innocence of the sea.
Although my relationship with my father has undoubtedly changed, my perpetual respect for him has not. Even now, I highly regard him as the man who aided in molding me into the young woman I am today. Inside, I hold the ever-burning hope that one day our closeness will once again be rekindled. I pray to be together, united, and understanding of one another. I hope for mutual comfort to be established, and envelop us both in the identical, unconditional love of a distant, beloved childhood remembrance. Perhaps this ardent hope will be fulfilled before my eyes, just prior to twilight on a crisp, blustery autumn night. Perhaps my father and I will instinctively return, hand-in-hand, to the same magical fence which left a massive, meaningful mark on my earliest days.

If I ever feel like grinning like a fool...

{ Saturday, January 8, 2011 }
I watch this film and revel in every minute of it. My mom and I were having a conversation recently, about how 80s films have a lingering legacy today. It's absolutely true. I find myself repeatedly viewing classics like When Harry Met Sally and The Sure Thing on an almost-unhealthy basis. I feel as though too many films today rely on raunchy humor and sexual shock factor to reel in audiences and boost ticket sales. Not to say that these older films are free of any adult elements, but their plot thrives on the innate attraction and sensual tension between characters rather than the actual act. Something I, personally, prefer in a movie.

The trailer itself is simply brilliant! Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal seem like an unlikely pairing, but their on-screen chemistry is dynamic. Although I don't particularly find Crystal attractive, his personality and quick, dry wit throughout the movie is completely irresistible. Not to mention that When Harry Met Sally is full of quotable lines, and contains subject matter that has fueled many fiery debates with my friends over the years. There have been several cheap imitations and spin-offs of this film since its 1989 release, but none of them can touch the original.

What are your favorite iconic 80s films?


I just want to be better than your head's only medicine

{ Thursday, January 6, 2011 }
It was a beautiful day in Atlanta, deafened by heavy realizations.
I rose at the crack of dawn to accompany my parents to my mother's first post-operative meeting with her oncologist, and her outlook for the future is wonderful! My mom has never been healthier, and I feel as though my family and I can take a moment to truly exhale after so many months of anxiety. We are blessed.
Sterile environments like hospitals tend to make me antsy and wary, but a sense of calm was instilled within me this morning. However, being surrounded by the silently suffering certainly took its toll.
As I sat alone in the waiting room, with the 9 a.m. sun casting a single ray of hope through the window, I began to contemplate mortality and what it truly means. I watched an elderly man flip through a newspaper as he waited for his wife. His face was etched with lines, like a road map of his life. Wearing a two piece suit and astute glasses, I wondered what he had done with his life- a business man, a lawyer?- and pondered why, when, and where such unfair illness fit into the equation. A few minutes later his wife returned to the waiting room, clad in fine clothing, and I could tell she had once been beautiful. Vibrant. The elderly man stood and tenderly took his wife's hand, happily conversing while leading her to the exit. Whatever is infiltrating her body and attempting to steal her away, he refuses. I could instantly tell by the way he gazed at her. Love allows us to linger on.
My heart broke as I heard the whack whack of the children's life flight helicopter cut into the sky. I wondered how such innocent beings fall into terrifying predicaments. I believe that a sick child has more courage and strength than I will ever be able to fathom in my lifetime.

The sensory overload and observations only led me to one concrete realization: I need to live more.

I need to waste less days sleeping in and spend my mornings exploring, learning, or creating. I need to reach out to others to learn more about the human soul. I need to stop bottling up my feelings in fear of rejection, withholding them until my heart is full to burst. I've grown exhausted of the "could have been," "should have been," thoughts constantly meandering in my skull.
If I died tomorrow, I would leave this universe with an abundance of unfinished business, unspoken feelings, and a million little secrets I've been burning to share.
I'm living by a new philosophy.


P.S: Young The Giant, my favorite little band, is coming to Atlanta March 12th, a mere nine days after the celebration of my 20th year on Earth! The show is at Vinyl, a really neat venue that I have yet to visit. Plus, admission is only $8! I believe I am treating myself to a night of beautiful music. (Or you know, roommates and dear friends that I know frequent this blog- you could share the experience with me!) Take a listen to my favorite song, "Cough Syrup." It's one of the few songs I have heard in my life that instantly expanded my musical horizons. They are a group of truly talented musicians.

My book craving leads to "Falling Under"

{ Wednesday, January 5, 2011 }
On days like these, when I rise around the crack of, oh, well, noon and the sun is barely visible through the shroud of dingy clouds, I feel as though there is nothing better to do with my time than re-read a favorite book. I love reading books numerous times; it's interesting to pick up on minute details or symbolism that slipped through the cracks during prior readings.
Today I picked up my copy of Danielle Younge-Ullman's "Falling Under." I purchased this book over a year ago when I rescued it from a dollar bin in Books-A-Million. I was skeptical at first as to why such a book could only be worth a mere dollar, but by the time I reached the final page I was emotionally absorbed by the novel's intrigue.

"Falling Under" is a novel driven by bitter loss, lust, and human compulsion. The work's main character, Mara Foster, is a 20-something, borderline agoraphobic artist who finds herself deeply absorbed by her creative escapades. However, Mara holds a dark secret. One beyond comprehension, that holds the power to slowly deteriorate the human mind and soul. From page one, "Falling Under" is a gripping narrative of a young woman's quest for happiness and sanity after unthinkable loss and emotional distress.
The way "Falling Under" is written, with descriptive- almost poetic at times- prose leaves the reader with haunting imagery that will linger long after the novel is finished.
For readers that enjoy the occasional (or regular) "dark" novel, I highly recommend Younge-Ullman's gripping debut, "Falling Under."
For more information on the author, please visit http://www.danielleyoungeullman.com/!


"I love everything about you that hurts."

{ Tuesday, January 4, 2011 }
It began instantaneously,
A wildfire set to stun.
She wanted to abandon everything she had ever known,
To return the skeletons to their hollowed closets
And run; their bony fingers only grasping at threads as she bolted towards sanity.
She shed her callow, withered skin
Metamorphosing into something wondrous and renewed.
The horizon, burning with the imminence of the new dawn
Filled and warmed her chest,
Occupying the hollow stone crevice that lay empty and desolate for so long.
Inhaling, her heart burst into rhythm like a kick drum.
To feel this way was no longer myth,
But beautifully terrifying, raw reality.

Blue Valentine: "Imperfect" and "disarming"

{ Sunday, January 2, 2011 }

One aspect I love about a new year is the certainty of new films hitting theaters. As I was browsing though upcoming films on Rotten Tomatoes the other evening, I fell in love with the plot summary of Blue Valentine, a heart-wrenching and raw drama about the ups and downs of a six year marriage. With the film's couple being played by Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams, the on-screen realism is sure to be spot on.
According to Entertainment Weekly, Blue Valentine director Derek Cianfrance relied heavily on emotional improv between the actors to attain the priceless, raw moments of the film- something that is destined to strike a chord within each viewer.
Shot out of chronological order, Blue Valentine takes on the familiar feel of films like 500 Days of Summer, but contains much heavier elements like depression, divorce, and domestic violence.
Blue Valentine is currently playing in select theaters, and will make its wide release on January 24, 2011.
Although the film will probably never see the light of day in my small college town, I hope to treat myself to this movie in Atlanta for Valentine's Day!

If you've had the pleasure of viewing this movie (you lucky few!), feel free to share your thoughts in a comment below.