New Blog

College girl now. I'm graduating to a new blog:

http://shardsofsatin.weebly.com/

:) See ya around.

The Gale

The great gale shook me to my very core. The wild, rushing soul of the wind assailed the surface of the ground with sheer violence, sweeping me flat as if I had been a mere reed. Beyond my fear came an overwhelming sadness as I watched the world I had always known be swept clean and barren. The beauty before me lay raw, the face of the earth scarred and shrieking. The lush grass, upon which my own feet had trod so many moonlit nights, swirled precariously past me as the wind rendered it limpid. With halting determination, I found my footing and lifted my chin towards the sky, the longing to glimpse even a spot of brightness overcoming any other feeling. As I did so, the face of blackness blotted out each last light, and my dalliance with the stars was at an end. Madness gripping me, I swallowed a scream and closed my eyes, feeling the wrath of God pour out around me. Trembling, I waited for death.

August 29th 2014

In A Vindication of the Rights of Women (1792) Mary Wollstonecraft states her belief that women of the era allowed themselves to be weakened by innocence, judging naivety and incapability to be synonymous traits. She adds that society, having corrupted young girls with stereotypes and lectures, prepared women to be mindless servants of men for the entirety of their adult lives. 

  I believe it to be true that an innocent woman will face more difficulty in endeavors of profession, education, and life in general. The world is not a place where naivety thrives. Those who are innocent are seen as unprepared, weak and helpless, as Mary Wollstonecraft viewed them, and are nearly always prodded and ridiculed for their perceived softness. Particularly in the media, innocence is portrayed as ludicrous, sad, and pathetically amusing.

    However, I look at women around me today, and I wonder what Mary Wollstonecraft would think upon observing them. With the loss of that “weakness,” that innocence, came also the rampant decay of modern morality. The young women today have been raised in a society that puts tremendous emphasis on the rights owed to women and on the stupidity and animalistic qualities of men. In addition to the movement to hold power over men, women have taken extremist views with the way they treat one another. The majority of women today are often brash, unkind and crude, resorting to share in the qualities of men that they most claim to despise. 

   I strongly agree with Mary Wollstonecraft’s statement that a woman should be respected for her intellect, but I believe that a greater attribute even than her mind is a woman’s character. And it is in this that I think women have done themselves more harm than good over the past few generations. 

   I do not wish to be a woman who is incapable of standing up for herself, but simply to reserve the right not to do so, if that is my desire. My belief in equality is grounded upon my belief in the freedom to choose and to face the consequences of those choices when they come. I accept my responsibility as a  citizen of the world and call upon others to do so as well. If it is my choice to serve others, be they men or women, I do not view that choice as weakness, but rather strength. A women who possesses the ability to put aside herself and give to others, is not timid, weak or put-upon. She is courageous.  

-L

Shards of Satin

  The sand crinkled beneath my feet: shards of satin on a white plain. The softness and the lilt filled my heart with the scent of freedom, and my feet began to dance. Soon I was running---laughing, charging for the water as if it was my last moment on the curve of the earth. The wind and the water rippled brilliantly, and for a moment I was blinded by the flash of the sun as it hit the first wave. Then everything was magic. 

   The warmth and the splash and the gentle crash sent me reeling. After that, the only thing left was peace. I watched the water as it journeyed out to meet the horizon, stretching endlessly into eternity. Looking at the world, I saw that it was good. 

HOPE

"What am I missing?" she murmured. The thrumming of the rain on the window sent an array of shivers through her arms. The world felt cold and hot all at once with the singular intensity that only a summer rain can produce, and this one in particular, for it was a dark day and full of thunder. Outside, steam rose from the bricks. I hunkered down, unsure whether to break the silence. I knew what she needed, but I feared the sound of my voice in the stillness. The heat and the rain and the far off crack of the storm chilled me. 
"What is it?" she asked. 
I hesitated. 

"Hope." I said. " What you're missing is hope."

Oww

This isn't okay.

Why are people so unkind? I hate watching them hurt someone I love. I hate feeling that helpless feeling. This writing is hideous, but at least it's writing. I'm so angry. I'm so tired. I'm so sick and so overwhelmed. I just want to curl up in my mommy's arms and tell her everything's going to be okay and that she's wonderful and beautiful and shouldn't care about what other people do. They should love her. She's strong and kind and funny and intelligent and she deserves every good thing in the world.

It Will Be

I've been waiting a long time for tomorrow. 

  I haven't exactly been stuck in a tower, but after eighteen years in the same house, I can relate to Rapunzel more than a little. I've grown up here. I've danced and played and painted and laughed. My memories are peppered with sweetness and love. In many ways, I don't want to leave. My tower is safe and soft and comfortable: everything a good home should be. But my dream is calling me, and has been for many years. Almost as long as I can remember, Florida has been my dream. And I have to wonder. Now, after all these years, I'm finally going. Tomorrow. My floating lights are about to rise in the sky. And I do wonder: 

   What if it's not everything I dreamed it would be? 

   I have Flynns everywhere telling me that it will be. I'm so thankful for them, and I'm praying that they're right. The fact remains that I simply won't know until I go. Tomorrow is the moment I'll have to live over forever, leaping out the window into the clear summer's day. That's when my life will begin. 

   I'm sure I'll go back and forth between jubilation and regret, in true Rapunzel fashion. But no matter what, I have several things that Rapunzel didn't (her being a fairytale character and all): a family, a God, and a future. 

   Fortunately I'm not the victim of a magical kidnapping, and my parents are loving and supportive. They're my best Flynns. 

And I'm blessed to know that God loves me too. His love reminds me to have faith and jump, for He'll catch me. Always, I have assurance in Jesus. 

   Finally, Rapunzel got happily every after, an end to her story. I won't live happily ever after (thank goodness. How boring would that be?!) but I will live interestingly ever after. I'll have ups and downs, trials and journeys, joys and sorrows. I will continue. 

Life will go on. I'll wait, listen, and dream to go wherever God directs. 

My new dream is to live with joy.

My new dream is to fear less. 

My new dream is to grow in faith. 

My new dream is to  

L I V E     E A C H    D A Y    W I T H   L O V E,    T R U S T I N G    G O D.

Then, someday I will stand and say You were my new dream. And always will be. 

For now, I hope to thrive in this moment, however long it lasts. I've been showered with blessings, swirling all around me. I cannot wait to see what varieties of lights God brings into my life over the course of the next four years, and I am anxious to find and follow the path He has for me. 

"But the LORD stood with me and strengthened me." 2 Timothy 4:17 

And so, goodnight. Tomorrow is finally here. 

Part 1: Waiting without Listening

She stopped, the world whizzing by. The rooftop was silent and set apart from the city noise below. Lights gleamed in every direction, stretching out to the water. It felt distant enough. It felt perfect.

  "I'm here," she spoke softly. The words slipped out, tainted with a hint of fear. No answer came floating back out of the warm night air, as expected. There was nothingness. "I'm here," she said again, still waiting. "I'm ready." Still nothing. She walked towards the middle of the roof and stretched up on tip-toes, face lifted to the sky.

  The sudden screech of a horn from the street startled her. Heart racing, and anger rising, she cleared her throat and spoke a third time.

  "Here I am," she said, altering the phrase. The silence faded and every city noise seemed present again. Honking, music, the blurred rumble of a thousand voices. The purity of the atmosphere was lost as fast as breaking glass. She sighed.

  "Why do you never seem to be here?"

The Map

   "What are you doing?"

   The question came from above, in every sense of the phrase. She was standing on the bridge, looking down and wondering. I was standing in the water, looking down and wondering. I didn't turn my head.

   "Hey, mister!"

   The water slithered around my legs slowly, steadily. Its rhythmic pace numbed me like the cold. Water crept up my legs and through my fingers, deep into my last crevice. I watched the dancing surface as it darkened.

   "Are you okay?" The voice thrummed vibrantly, the color red in a world of grey.

   "Go away," I said.

   "I am away," she said. I turned, finally, the absurdity of the answer diverting me. My eyes quivered and adjusted to the glare of a white sky.

   "What?"

   "I said, 'I am away.' Where are you?" She was a pretty girl, with eyes and lips as vivacious as her voice. She was smiling cheerfully.

   "Lost," I replied. The word leapt into my throat before I could stop it. It was so true, the trueness struck me dumb. I was effortlessly, hopelessly, maddeningly lost. The future and the past were indistinguishable, the present unbearable.

  "Where are you trying to go?" She asked me then, those twitching lips growing solemn.

  "I don't know," I answered, despondent. Her eyes crinkled again.

  "Good. I've a map that leads just there."

A lovely letter from me

To: The very jaunty band of Merry Companions lurking outside my bedroom window

Dear sirs:

Good evening! I'm so glad to know that people today still take the time to enjoy themselves and have a grand old time together, just laughing and frolicking, and you know...screaming occasionally. I'm sure these activities are very healthy and necessary, however I wonder if you might be unaware that after darkness falls, a large majority of the population prefers to engage in a state of temporary hibernation. A further inference would be to suggest that it may surprise you to know that the manner in which a group of individuals, such as yourselves, behaves can actually have an impact on people outside your number. Of course each one of you is no doubt primarily concerned with the good of the neighborhood, and therefore I'm sure the shouts and pounding feet are merely meant as a comforting lullaby. How sweet of you. I'm deeply moved and touched by your thoughtfulness. In conclusion, I would like to thank you for your outstanding consideration.

Get off the street you hooligans, I'm trying to sleep.

With love,

Laura

Draft

"What's up, buttercup?" I grinned, loving the way her skin shone like gold under the day's last sunlight. It was one of those perfect evenings where I was loving everything though, even the simplest thing like the knowledge that my heart was still beating beneath my shirt. She looked beautiful, so much so that it scared me suddenly and I felt shy for the first time in months. 

"Nothing," she answered, and my superb mood quavered just the tiniest bit. 
"Something's always up," I replied bravely, willing myself not to screw everything up by being a chicken at the wrong moment.
Then, with no warning, she unexpectedly lapsed into tears and my good mood nosedived faster than a pelican. I sighed inside, thinking for the millionth time that I really would never understand girls no matter how hard I tried. 

However, I had learned enough about them not to say anything stupid when they were crying. And as I couldn't think of anything not-stupid to say, I did the next best thing and said nothing. It really seemed to be the only decent course of action, although I briefly considered putting my arm around her; but then I clammed up again. Plus, there was no way such a move wouldn't come off as either jerky or overly-ambitious. I couldn't risk either. 

This is nonsense. What are you doing? A voice carrying some semblance of reason rose up to stop my rampant thoughts. 

Panicked, I realized that the girl I was absolutely mad over was in desperate need only a few feet away and I was too preoccupied with my game plan even to notice. She mattered. I didn't. Even if nothing would ever come of it, right now I was her friend and that was the most important thing to be. 

I slipped down onto the ground next to her, sending a little cloud of dry sand flying. 

"I'm sorry," she choked, sputtering a little. I was somehow comforted by the sheer ugliness of her as she cried. She always looked so perfect, like a china doll, only tan. This was something new. Mascara and snot were mingling in ways that made me feel better about the times I'd burped in front of her, or the way my hair stuck out wildly sometimes.

"Did something happen?" I asked. In the back of my mind the snarky, eloquent version of me cringed at the words. OF COURSE SOMETHING HAPPENED, IDIOT.  

"I didn't get my scholarship," she gulped sadly. 

"Scholarship?" (For those of you who haven't read the Guy's Guide to Surviving Conversation, repetition is the ultimate fallback.) 

"Yeah," she said, running her arm across her nose. "It was a pretty big one. I'll still be able to go to college and everything probably. I just won't get to go to the one I wanted to go to." She paused, her voice deepening shakily. "I think I'm just realizing that all my dreams aren't necessarily going to come true. At least not in the way that I thought." 

"I think that happens to everyone once in a while," I said, forgetting about the Guy's Guide to Surviving Conversation and just remembering some of my own crushed dreams. I started to relax, and then I felt bad for relaxing, when she was so upset. I shoved all the other thoughts from my head and said,"There's always a chance for a new dream or two." 

"I know," she murmured huskily. "And I'm sure I'll be happy with new dreams. But new dreams might be littler dreams. I'll probably end up settling down with a nine to five job, and cooking dinner and watching tv. I really just thought I had a chance at making a difference in the world. You know?" 

I nodded, my pulse quickening. I did understand. I understood perfectly. It was a horrible feeling, realizing that reality might ruin all your hopes and ambitions. 

"I think I had it figured that I would get to travel, change people's lives--have adventures. I guess the world is a little bigger than I used to think," she said sadly. The cool breeze whipped through my thoughts, swirling sand, like confetti, all around us. 
"Well, what's wrong with that?" I smiled, shrugging. "You still have two feet. So...you might just have to walk a little faster than you expected." Her brows furrowed uncertainly. 
"Do you think I'm cut out for adventure? Truly?" 
I nodded. 
"Of course. I think everyone deserves at least one adventure." 
Shaking her head, she stared at me. 
"What?" 
"I just don't understand you." 
"Me? What's so hard to understand?" I laughed. 
"Everything," she murmured. "The way I see it, as much as I try not to think this way, the world we live in is full of smoke and traffic and rising taxes. I mean... there's pedophiles out there. And gun violence. And dads letting their kids overheat in cars, and obesity and anorexia and not enough water or pills for sick people in Africa. And there's...hatred; people always angry at each other and arguing. How do you always seem so certain in everything?" Her two front teeth played sharply around her lips, worrying at a scab. Those tortured eyes drilled into me with surprising intensity, daring me to listen for real this time. I looked back at her and focused. It wasn't an illusion. She was real. For the first time I saw her for what she really was, snot and dripping eyes into the bargain. None of that ugliness mattered, just like none of her beauty mattered. She was more terrifying than she'd ever been before because in that moment she was asking me the one question I had always feared more than anything. 

"How do you stay solid when everything else is chaos?" 

It scared me because I knew the answer. Had always known it. But once she knew, everything would change. And then I'd have to face my reality. A reality that would be everything she wanted.

Just without her. 

Philosophizing

"Therin lies both life's sorrow and its joy: that in living, a man accepts shadows and light in one turn. There is no one without the other," he said. I considered thoughtfully for a moment, breathing in his words. Then, with my brows knit closely, I replied.
"In some ways I am thankful. Without the existence of evil, there would be no opportunity to fight for the dominance of good."

Going Swimming

There is a fleeting instant during each of life's most terrible experiences, when time slows and one begins to realize what is actually happening.

I'm drowning, I thought, as the last desperate pocket of air escaped my lungs and drifted out into the void. After discovering the worst about the action, inevitably the worst about the result pops into one's head too.

I'm going to die.

Once this thought enters a mind, it doesn't leave. Ever. For most people, it helps to have that small whisper of colossal knowledge knocking around in the back our their heads, impacting every decision and guiding every mental path. Facing mortality head-on often inspires men and women to change things, inspire others in their turn, and have an affect on the grander scheme.

Others become paranoid.

That day at the lake Uncle Timmy fished me out of the water by my left leg and dried me off, only a few seconds after I discovered that death loomed somewhere on the horizon, maybe sooner than I was expecting it. Uncle Timmy was laughing the entire time he spent wiping the slime from my hair.

"Boy, you were this close to being shark bait," he cackled.

It was my last swimming lesson.

Ouch

Welp, my imagination is officially dead. So long career. Oh wait, I'm going to college for this, to spend a billion dollars. Ha. Ha ha. Ha.

So much deflation.