Looks like I may be getting my story....posted a couple of posts back....published in my college newspaper - under the title of "Melodies." I may also write an op/ed piece about something....not sure yet....lol. Just thought I'd update this blog....I'm trying to keep at it.
I sort of became obsessed with political news before the election here in the US....watching podcasted episodes of "Countdown w/ Keith Olbermann" and "The Rachel Maddow Show" as well as reading online news and blogs from various sites. As a result I sort of neglected my image posting duties at M-C. Now I'm back, tired from all the election emotions, and ready to continue posting there.
Aside from that I've also been working on two big projects, one due at the end of this semester, one next (but much larger). Tomorrow will probably be spent working on the first paper/project with a bit of M-C procrastination thrown in for flavor...lol. Wish me luck.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Vignette....
This is a sketch of a story idea that became the previous story I posted. This one is a little more existential - probably less sad as well.... dozou. Comments are welcome.
Melodies whispered through the night air. Fingers and strings ran together in a veritable symphony of motion. A figure sat cross-legged on a backless park bench caressing the guitar with the years of experience she had worn into the tips of her fingers. The song faded into the wind as the final note was struck and Miiya raised her delicate face away from her guitar to see reds and blues playing harmoniously in the sky. It was times like these she wished she were somewhere else. The screams she had run from still rang loudly in her head. Her parents were fighting again.
She fidgeted on the seat, sliding forward to grab a notebook and pen stashed in the worn guitar case that sat at her feet. She laid the guitar as one would a newborn baby to rest in the case and began to write. Words flowed from her pen in a torrent, her eyebrows furrowed in recollection. Music was her rest. She reveled in the ability to put to paper all the anger and sadness she felt because of the seeming hatred her parents felt for one another. After the flood stopped, the notebook was set aside and Miiya picked up her guitar again. The head gleamed in the dying sun, the name of the company splashed across the top. The guitar looked well used yet well managed. She remembered handing over the money to the shop attendant. It was used, he had said. She didn’t care then. That had been 5 years ago.
She strummed the guitar and upon noting a discordant note adjusted it so the symphony could begin again. This symphony was her lifeline, her raft as she floated upon an ocean of misery. The music began again- softly at first, but then with gathered courage she played. Stars twinkled into existence above her but she didn’t notice them, only the reverberations that struck the soul. She hugged the instrument close as she played. This was her peace, her nirvana.
Melodies whispered through the night air. Fingers and strings ran together in a veritable symphony of motion. A figure sat cross-legged on a backless park bench caressing the guitar with the years of experience she had worn into the tips of her fingers. The song faded into the wind as the final note was struck and Miiya raised her delicate face away from her guitar to see reds and blues playing harmoniously in the sky. It was times like these she wished she were somewhere else. The screams she had run from still rang loudly in her head. Her parents were fighting again.
She fidgeted on the seat, sliding forward to grab a notebook and pen stashed in the worn guitar case that sat at her feet. She laid the guitar as one would a newborn baby to rest in the case and began to write. Words flowed from her pen in a torrent, her eyebrows furrowed in recollection. Music was her rest. She reveled in the ability to put to paper all the anger and sadness she felt because of the seeming hatred her parents felt for one another. After the flood stopped, the notebook was set aside and Miiya picked up her guitar again. The head gleamed in the dying sun, the name of the company splashed across the top. The guitar looked well used yet well managed. She remembered handing over the money to the shop attendant. It was used, he had said. She didn’t care then. That had been 5 years ago.
She strummed the guitar and upon noting a discordant note adjusted it so the symphony could begin again. This symphony was her lifeline, her raft as she floated upon an ocean of misery. The music began again- softly at first, but then with gathered courage she played. Stars twinkled into existence above her but she didn’t notice them, only the reverberations that struck the soul. She hugged the instrument close as she played. This was her peace, her nirvana.
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