10 Things I'd Say to Myself Before Going to College (After Finishing Freshman Year)

I don't want this to become a blog about me living at college, but at this point a post here and there is inevitable. I even live here over the summer. It's basically my life now.

Anyway, now that I've finished my first year, there are some things I would definitely tell my freshly-graduated self last summer.

1. Spend more time with your friends before you leave for college.
2. But, don’t worry about the people you wished you would have become friends with when you were at school. Don’t try to salvage anything. The drifting apart is inevitable, and you’re going to meet new amazing people. It’s okay.
3. The tattoo is going to hurt, but you get used to it. Don’t be scared.
4. Look for scholarships and actually apply! Making a list of scholarships that you are eligible for and then never going through with it is not enough!
5. Write, practice, and perform as much as you can. You’re not going to have as much free time as you anticipate, and you’re going to miss it. A lot.
6. Harvest what you can from missing him, as far as for writing and music, but seriously, you’re done. Every thought of “but maybe we can try again” is a lie. You left for a reason.
7. You find someone new in the summer anyway.
8. Appreciate being in the worship team at church. You’re going to miss it.
9. Don’t be afraid of college. You make friends—really good ones—and the classes are really interesting.
10. I know I can’t stop you, because even when you know better you still do it, but I have to at least try to tell you not to procrastinate. It’ll kill you.

When I read back through this, everything has the same message ringing behind it: don’t wait. Don’t wait to hang out with the friends you love. Don’t wait to move on. Don’t wait to seek opportunities. Don’t wait to chase the person you want to be. Don’t wait to pursue what you love and to pursue happiness. But also, don’t be afraid to take your time and enjoy everything around you while it’s still there. There is a fine balance between seizing the day and rushing past your life.

"The devil's greatest weapon is not convincing us there is no God, but that we have plenty of time." —C. S. Lewis

Hi Again (long breaks are awkward, aren't they?)

I am back. Hi, hello.

Not that anyone was really waiting for my return, but it's nice to pretend.

See, there's that negative voice again, saying that all of this is useless, keeping me from writing, from posting.

Yeah. Part of it was that I was in school, and didn't make time to write (I'm sure I could have, but that's just one more thought to beat myself up over, so let's not think about it). And the other part is that voice. The pressure. Even though no one's there, I'm still intimidated by the fact that it's been so long. I should come back with something good, right? Or maybe I shouldn’t come back at all. Maybe it’s all pointless and no one reads blogs anymore anyway.

Well I'll just fix that problem by guaranteeing that it won't be good.

My philosophy has always been that, when in doubt, be transparent, since that's what I like to see in others—people who are genuine, not fake.

So hi. I do plan to post again. I have a lot of plans for what I want to write on here. But I've been too scared to break the silence. Yes, nonsense, I know.

What plans do I have?

I'll probably tell something of experiencing my first year of college.

Waste disposal, minimizing waste, and using eco-friendly products have been on my mind a lot for the past year, so expect something on that. Or multiple things. Many much things.

I'm considering writing about artists and albums—not necessarily reviews, but more to bring more attention to little-known bands and people that I think are cool.

Of course I'll still post original work—poetry, prose, nonsense. So do expect that.

I wasn’t really thinking when I wrote the subtitle of this page, but you really can expect those three aspects of me on here—a musician, a writer, and a tree-hugger.

I've always written on here with a mindset similar to what I see on YouTube: not strictly sticking to one subject. That's why I love the tagging feature that can be put on posts. To me it seems similar to a YouTuber starting a series or making a playlist. It’s a way to organize the mess, and a way to find more of a kind should someone read something they like.

As always, my intentions for this blog are to inspire, express, and cultivate creativity in myself and hopefully others. I want to leave people feeling something, thinking something new, or even confused. I never want to get too informational or advice-y. That's what Buzzfeed and all those other websites are for (you know, “Top 10 Ways to…” “How To…” “Seven Things You Didn’t Know About…”).

As always, thank you for reading my jumbled and scattered thoughts. Thank you for making it to the end of this, if you did. And please feel free to interact with me in the comments—what you liked, and suggestions, just saying hi.

Did I mention I'm still at school? Yeah, I got a job here.  We work really hard, can't you tell?

"To write something you have to risk making a fool of yourself" –Anne Rice 

Dusk (poem)

Dusk

The sky is pink with reminiscence of the sunset,

the clouds still holding on to the last rays of light,

refusing to let the darkness of night take over just yet.

The pond below does little to reflect the sky’s last echoes.

Unmoving, the water stares back at me like a black hole.

Maybe the clouds are doing this on purpose: staying put

in protective stubbornness, trying

to keep me safe.

It is still warm for autumn, and

above me, the trees are green and full.

Leaves crunch under my feet, regardless.

I don’t know where they came from,

these dead appendages that litter the ground.

There are monsters out here,

I hear the clouds say overhead.

We don’t want them to come out.

To my right I can hear something moving in the water.

But the tall grasses don’t rustle; the pond’s surface doesn’t ripple.

Though I hear crickets and katydids all around me—above me—

and the familiar screams of the cicadas, I see no signs of life

down here.

I know that the full moon is tonight.

I came looking for it, craving to feel its pale light

once more on my skin, holding it in my palms.

Across the water, I see the highest branches

swaying and pulsing together in a breeze

that doesn’t reach me. Here, at the pond’s edge,

I feel no wind; the finely drawn silhouettes

of young branches, just above my head, remain

still, dark against the dim lilac sheet

splayed out above them, doing its best

to shoo the shadows away.

But even as the day persists and lingers,

I still pursue these shapes and shadows

that begin to come out of hiding

once the sun sets. And, it seems that

they’re calling me, too.

~10/5/17 (that night) – 2/8/18 (finished)

These were taken that night. I tried to capture it, but only had my phone for a camera.
Needless to say, I felt that words did a much better job.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave any comments below :)

Also, yes, this piece was started in October, and is the finished products of one of my many "Inktober" pieces that I've finally polished up and finished.

"And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul." –John Muir

November Night (poem)

I've literally waited almost a year because I wanted to post this when it was actually November but yeah here ya go :)

~

November Night

I’m driving. It’s night,

and it’s raining.

I haven’t grown used to the

early darkness that now surrounds

even though it isn’t yet time

to sleep.

Never before have I felt the wind

from the driver’s seat,

placing its indecisive index finger

on the car like a chess piece.

It’s cold, and I wonder if the rain

will turn to snow.

No, of course not.

It’s too harsh, falling

too fast. It streaks down

in white lines that open up before me

like a monster as I pass through—not

speeding, but maybe not slow enough—

and think, maybe,

it will swallow me whole.

~11/19/16

The Inktober Finale

So, remember my post about Inktober? My rules for myself were to start something new every day. I also hoped to share what I did, but being that I was trying to start things, I am left with a lot of unfinished work. This is by no means a negative thing, but it means that I don’t have too much share-worthy content.

Did I do it every day? Mostly.

On days that I didn’t get to engage in a creative activity, I made sure that it all amounted back up to the day of the month eventually (17 new pieces by the 17^th, 20 by the 20^th, etc.).

Difficulty

In part, I was ambitious in thinking that I’d be posting a lot more, but I did also expect this to be challenging. By only needing to start something, this was a good challenge. It forced me to be creative every day, even if it was only for a few minutes. Challenges like this always remind me that I am able to make time when I initially think I don’t have any. I still (for the most part) found a way to get all of my work done even when I thought I couldn’t—even when I did my “Inktober activity” first and wasn’t sure how much time I’d have left for my schoolwork.

Experience

I really enjoyed this “challenge.” Starting new things got me out of old headspaces. It also prevented me from being “stuck.” I didn’t have to worry about where a piece would be going or how to improve upon it because every day I was starting something new. I did go back and edit, continue, and polish some of the things I wrote, though. That’s one of the purposes of this challenge. Not everything we create will be great, and that’s why it’s necessary to write down every new idea. Some will continue to grow and blossom, and some won’t.

This also forced me to think of new ideas even when I didn’t feel inspired. I’m in a writing club at my college, and one night we did 5 minute prompts. Someone wrote a sentence in the board and we had to use it to inspire a piece of fiction—and we had five minutes to write what we could. This activity helped to propel me into the Inktober challenge because I didn’t like all of the prompts, but I was still able to write from them. Sometimes when I am searching for something to write about, I’m very picky with what prompts I select. This defeats the purpose of prompts in the first place. If I had something to write about, I wouldn’t be looking for them. I don’t think that we are supposed to like every prompt because we use them to help us to explore into different subjects. I often feel like I write about the same things, and when I’m being extremely selective about prompts, I’m not helping myself out.

Do I Recommend?

Yes! This was a very fun and low-stress challenge. By only needing to start something, I was freed from feeling the need to produce something “good” every time. We all know that while we want to write well, the expectations to actually do it are often what limit us and keep us from doing our best work. Plus, after creating something new every day for a month, I now have tons of new material to build upon and work with.

What did I actually do?

Good question.

3 Drawings: the finished one that I posted with “The Wind”

October 2nd. This one is rather silly and in response to "draw something melting."

I don't remember the date of this one, but this is only the start of something that I plan to finish with pen and ink.

4 Blog Posts and 1 YouTube Video: I counted these to actually motivate me to post, which I haven’t done since moving to school.

1 Original Song: hopefully to be finalized and posted? We shall see :)

1 Response to a Memoir Prompt

6 Poem/beginnings/first drafts of them (finished pieces that I post from Inktober will be hyperlinked into this one should I post them in the future)

11 Journal Entries: By this, I do not necessarily mean “this is what I did today.” Most of what I write in my notebook are musings on different ideas and occasionally are recounts and reflections on particularly interesting events.

4 Fiction Beginnings/Attempts

Some excerpts that are by no means final products at all:

This piece started out as a poem then became the beginnings of a story?

October 25^th

She wanted to stop the sun from going down. As pools of water formed around her feet on the sidewalk squares, she looked for a rainbow. She would run until she found it. She tried to taste the clouds, light and fluffy as candy—as dreams in your head before you come to realize that you’re dreaming. Every night she whispered to the moon and embraced the stars. She kept lightning bolts in jars and ice at her fingertips.

I saw her once, and the spell got me. I’m not sure if she cast it on purpose or not. She said that she saw no more light in people or things. She held fast to the songs in the wind and listened to their teachings. When I asked her to share, to show me, her eyes looked at me with pity.

“Maybe someday. But you don’t want to bother. I have already left this world.”

She noticed my confusion, and it seemed to solidify her statement.

“You’re not ready.”

The air seemed to move with her instead of around her. It was as if reality itself was having a conversation with her. And yet, no one else seemed to notice.

“How will I be ready?”

She stopped. “Catch.”

From nowhere, a white ball flew toward me. I held my hands out and felt snow somehow turn to a pile of white flower petals in my palms. I cradled them in my hands and looked up at her surprised face.

“Maybe you are.”

I still really like the format that I originally wrote it in. Maybe this will be one of those stories told in a more poetic, whimsical way.

October 23^rd

what goes up must come down

I can try to escape, but the cold

feels even colder after taking refuge

sitting by the fire, sleeping peacefully,

drunk on blissful ignorance

like tomorrow won’t come

and by the time the light dies,

and the coals murmur their last breaths,

I wish for tomorrow to never come again

October 10^th

how can I speak of the battles in my in my skin

when there are bodies strewn across front lines

real bodies, real brothers, sisters, sons and daughters

how can I speak of sexism here

when there are still oppressed women out there

raped, abused, beaten, whose lives are threatened

how can I worry about my weight

or indulge in dessert

when there are children whose skin

sticks to their bones like cling wrap

on my leftovers

how can I worry what to wear in the morning

when others worry if they’ll have anything to wear at all

And I’ll finish with something I wrote that reminded me of one of the many joys and wonders of writing:

October 7^th

[…] As I bring myself to acknowledge my fear by writing about it, I feel myself understanding and letting go. I’m allowing myself to feel it and release it. How amazing. After all, as I write this, I do remember writing earlier about music being my calling, therefore I should not fear pursuing it. And I know that the people here—especially in the music department—are so full of love. They are not here to watch me struggle or to set me up to fail, but to help me. It’s crazy how easily I forget about that. People are not out to get me.

“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you love. It will not lead you astray.”—Rumi

As always, thank you so very much for reading! I hope you were able to find something that made you think, made you smile, or inspired you to create your own works. Feel free to start a conversation in the comments! Did you try Inktober (or some other form of a “—tober” challenge)? Could you see yourself trying something like this in the future?