Coming home and seeing my parents is always a little surreal, nostalgic and sad.
- surreal because most of my interaction with them now are on the phone so it’s weird coming back and seeing how much our house has changed and all of the new things they’ve bought, and how they prepare for their kids coming home (fresh produce, our favorite foods, etc).
- nostalgic because I’m an “adult” now and everything I’m back, I’m a little more mature/grownup/feel less like a kid. And they have less control over me, which is half nice but also…bittersweet
with a lot of things.
sunsets, snapchat, trippy gifs and visuals
ta-ku and old memories Continue reading
enjoy a messy free-write/journal entry hybrid of mine, which broaches topics like reading, self-care, social media, personal interactions, college vs. high school, writing and the whole hubbub. Continue reading
It’s a Monday afternoon. I am on my way to the library. I just ate a huge lunch: 3 plates of taste good, feel bad food and 2 cups of coffee to offset the lack of sleep and food in my system.
I am reading my agenda. A midterm lurks around the corner, deadlines for papers and tests flash before my eyes, and the pile of laundry in my hamper stretches so high that it topped over this morning, like a castle wall crumbling in defeat. Continue reading
In 9th grade, English was all about hammering down the basics of essays. We learned how to construct a thesis and communicate an argument in five paragraphs.
In 10th grade, it was about perfecting the structures of the papers that we wrote. It was incorporating quotes appropriately and eliminating “to-be” verbs.
In 11th grade, we learned how to take the analysis that we had originally done for these papers and present effective examples to bolster our arguments.
In 12th grade, it was wrapping up everything that we’d learned thus far and learning how to communicate our points not only effectively, but efficiently. It meant going over the word limit and cutting fluff so that we could present fleshed-out arguments in as few of words as possible, while still preserving its essence.
In a school in which discussions govern the class structure, my evolving personality inside and out of the classroom showcased my progress as a student of English. My initial contributions were quiet, uncertain statements, but I’m ending high school with the ability to take a stance on positions that I can defend with confidence. Continue reading
One day, I’ll have to construct a blanket fort. When I grow up and move out of the house, I’ll have a permanent blanket fort installed in my room. Rods will hang down from the ceiling, in such a way that you can hang blankets on them whenever you desire. There will be no floor, only soft cushions that magically clean themselves of hair, dust, dirt, crumbs, etc. There will be those fun pillows with arms, lots of warm blankets, low tables for setting food and books, and a quality sound system where I can play calm music. I’ll have a little remote that will allow me to dim my lights. My dream bedroom.
Just before I fall asleep at night, I’ll lie in my bed and think about my day. Think about my life, my goals, my fears, my worries. My hair, being as long as it is, will most likely still be slightly damp from my shower, and since I don’t like to feel cold tentacle-like bundles of hair on my neck as I roll around, I’ll gather it up to the top of my pillow and sort of just throw it there. If it’s before midnight, I’ll literally hug the bed, thankful that I get a reasonable amount of sleep. If it’s past 1 AM I’ll be exhausted but the more I think about it, the harder it will be for me to fall asleep.
When I know that I don’t have school the next day, I’ll climb into my bed the happiest girl alive, because sleep is the most glorious activity in the world.
When I put my head down on the pillow, my mind will slip in a subconscious state where there’s never just one thought. A thought will appear, followed by two subthoughts, a doubt, a reassurance, a what-if, a hypothetical, and an affirmation. It’s never just one thought. Your brain is probably already half way to dream-land, where there is no reality and there are no limits.
It’s sort of strange that you’ve met every person in your dreams at some point or another in your life, even in an instance as small as passing them in the street. If they are a primary character, does that mean anything? Generally, I can’t decipher the meanings of my dreams; do they even have meanings, or are they just random, based on the happenings of that day?
I wouldn’t know. While it is true that humans probably do dream every night and more than once in a slumber, you typically only remember the most recent dream you’ve had, prior to waking up. For some reason, I don’t dream when I get minimal sleep. As a result, I haven’t had a dream (that I’ve remembered) in months and months and months. I have the occasional dream during school breaks but those are few and far between.
At this point, I’ll be half-asleep. Then I’ll think a little too hard, realize that I’m falling asleep, and shake myself awake, all subconsciously. If forced to get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I’ll sleepwalk myself to the bathroom and fall back asleep very well, since the route to my bathroom is so routine and engraved in my brain.
What about lucid dreaming? What’s that like? I’m pretty sure I’ve managed to manipulate my dreams before, but before long, the dream turns into a daydream, which is similar but loses its this-is-really-happening quality that I have come to love about night-dreaming.
What do you call daydreams that you have at night? Is hallucinations too strong of a word? I’ll focus my eyes on a blinking light somewhere in my room. I’ll turn myself into a little burrito of blankets. I don’t like to sleep on my back. I could go to sleep on top of my blankets, but by the time my eyes open the next morning, I’d be tucked snugly under them. I used to think my parents came in at midnight and did that, but then I later learned that it’s fairly easy to carry out whilst fast asleep.
Sleeping is so glorious, really. I look forward to it, but I seldom take naps. It’s sad to go to sleep knowing you only have a few hours to slumber.
My mattress is very soft and my blankets are cool and comfortable. My pillows are always wonderful to sleep on, and if I have time, I’ll watch a TED talk or two before I go to sleep because I like to lie there and think about ambitious goals, lifestyle, and career choices. I like feeling empowered and I like thinking about life’s deepest questions, only to wake up with a mindset as shallow as a water bowl. I hate thinking of creative writing prompts at night, because I know I won’t remember them in the morning. Finally, I hate getting out from under the covers after I’ve already found a comfortable position, because you lose that nice feeling when you have to drag yourself out of the bed. I feel like many people share these similar sentiments.
This has been…a free write about going to sleep. Posted, without rereading for ANYTHING.
Will someone buy me a cup like this? I’d love you forever.
(Amateurity isn’t actually a word, but I’ll unofficially define it as the state of being amateur)
I woke up and saw the notebook. I was so very drowsy, and so I only wrote three words down.
“such an amateur” Continue reading