Monday, March 14, 2011

An attempt to write in under an hour

This never happens. I'll sit at my station pumping out words to be read in strong emotion, pushing and pulling my topic till it and all my words run away from me leaving me speechless. I don't necessarily have a love for writing I've realized, as I write blog after blog I've found my true love and passion is in words. Learning new words and applying them, watching them form enchanting sentences, paragraphs, stories. I get lost in them, sending me into a stupor of thought. I enjoy watching them recount my whims in short syllabled beauty.

however time has flown past me as I dream and my time has fall down to 30 minutes. I'm beginning to fear this task my be impossible for the likes of me, but I trek on. Sometimes I wish that I could tell you the anecdotes of my life as they were ment to be told in dramatic fits of post-situation passion. As the hands on the clockface move forward so do my eyes and thoughts and quickly no matter what level of fa-mazingness the story is, soon it fades. This weekend will fad slowly, it was one of great moments, it's rare that my activities line up so perfectly as to go literally from one to another with only minutes to spare. While a great story the stroy of the weekend of March 11th-13th is, it is not the one I wish to tell in my last few minutes. That tale would the one of the bold and the few.

I enjoy people watching. Yes, I am well aware of how incredibly creepy that sounds, but it's not intended to be. I'm fascinated by the mind, how it adapts, how people move. to describe it in a way that makes more sense would be I like to see how people act and react to each other, and over time it's fun to try a guess at what someone will do next. This has lead to the discovery that people are afraid to move, countless are the times I've watch this scene play out in the form of several faces and people following the same script (I myself am guilty of this as well, mind you). Strapping young lad eyeballing beautiful young lady friend, infatuated with said lady but unable to find the words, or the nerve to say anything. Fear, is a disease spreading across our generation. Fear of change, fear of rejection. fear fear fear. this dread and terror can  be daunting yes but it's explainable with the push of technology. Face to face communication is personal, rare and hard to have undivided from some form of disconnection. I've noticed how much this has lead to increased terror at the thought of confronting, being open, allowing venerability. I myself, as forward and undaunted as I am sometime lose the nerve to embrace a new friend or flame. On a fresh kick of nerve and friendliness still even today could reach out to all but the few of whom I still can't find the nerve to converse with. Puzzling how naturally it comes to me to chat it up with a stranger but fall to bits and pieces at the thought of saying "hello" to a beautiful acquaintance. Oh gosh this is getting too girlie for me, ick. Washing my hands of this ooy gooy side sneaking in; this is not the intent of my post.

This post is for the brave soul that risked embarrassment to break free of fear. After a brief smile in passing, followed by the usual "hey" "how are you" "good" "amazing" encounter between crossing strangers on opposite ends of the skybridge between the library and mc. when we are standing on differing ends I at the beginning of the bridge Mc side, him almost in the library said boy turns around loud and proud through the wide-gapped space now between us asks me for a date. Fearless. Sheer curiosity is what turned me around and started the conversation. Granted my answer was only "maybe" and we parted as unlikely friends. it's sparked hope that possibly, just maybe this generation isn't entirely lost to the media, real people, real friendships, real encounters are still out there . Time's up. under an hour, no temptation to get to carree'd away.

xo carree

ps the grammer of this post horrifies me. seriously. but that's what happens when you race the clock.


  1. If you can write like this (despite the typos) in an hour I bet you beasted the essay bit of the SAT. You really have a poetic writing style :) it`s actually a lot better than mine (since I tend to write the way I talk, rather than exercising my vocab or using a formal style).


  2. Dude I think I fell asleep during part of the SAT...or the ACT which ever I took. Test make Boredddd. ahaha. I love your style. it's real. it's like a window to you, and has a windowsill I frequent. I've always enjoyed reading your work, and your art! oh my heck woman! I wish I could be more poetic there is nothing I love more than listening to someone with a VOICE, oh you know the voice's I'm talking about, read my fabulous poetry :P Gosh dang Amanda, I miss you!!! I need to visit.