Winter was finally loosening its frozen grip on the city. Small drops of water were forming at the bottom of icicles that had adorned the rooftops for the past 3 months. The sun was trying to claim its right in the sky by breaking through the blanket of clouds that shrouded the area for so long. It’s rays bounced off the frozen canals beckoning the children to come out and play. After many months of a harsh winter, kids were finally able to go outside and greet their friends.
The sleepy city was coming alive with people ready to get out and about. Dads were on their way to work and moms were on their way to the market. The kids could hardly wait to go ice skating on the frozen canals. Shrieks of delight were heard all over the city as they scooted across the icy playground.
Not everyone was able to go and play though. In a house not to far from the festivities, two pairs of eyes longingly gazed out the front window. The older sister was trying her hardest to look as if she couldn’t care less while the other glared at her homework wishing it would finish itself. Their mother and father were both doctors and there was to be no play unless their homework was complete and correct. Not only that, they both had to practice their instruments for at least two hours. Margaretha, the younger sister was the active one of the two and she was fit to be tied that she couldn’t be out with her friends.
As the sun was retiring from it’s watch over the city, street lamps slowly flickered on. The canal house was silent except for the scratching of pencils from the two young girls. Their parents had stepped out for the evening and they were alone with the nanny. Nora, the older sister, dropped her pencil and grabbed her sister. “Mam and Pop are out for at least three hours, we can skate for at least an hour and no one will know! Rita, you need to talk to Nanny and tell her our plan.”
The quiet cove off the canal hadn’t been skated on all day though the sun shown brightly in this deserted corner. The two young sisters laced up their skates and reveled in their short time of freedom. Rita was moving further ahead when she heard a heart stopping crack. She turned to find Nora motionless in her tracks with a look of shear terror. In a blink of an eye, the ice dropped out from underneath her. Nora plunged into the ice cold water while Rita scrambled to get to her, yelling for Nannny. Rita grabbed at the gloved hand that was bobbing up from the water and then it disappeared and an eerie silence settled over the canal. Rita slid on her belly over the ice to see if she could follow where her sister was floating to. She saw Nora’s red jacket a few feet from the hole and stuck her body in as Nanny quickly grabbed her waist. She hauled the young girls up with all her might. They lay on the ice trying to catch their breath but didn’t wait too long to get out of sight.
Nanny put their jackets near the furnace in the basement to dry off in hopes that their mother and father wouldn’t find out that they disobeyed them and went outside. Both sisters had a hard time sleeping that night, realizing that they came so close to dying. They thanked God many times in their prayers that night. The scene played over in their heads like a nightmare that wouldn’t go away.
“Nora, Margaretha it is time to go to school.” Mother demanded up the stairs in the early morning. Nanny fetched their jackets from the basement. She had a look of dread as she handed the girls their coats. Nora tried putting hers on but quickly came to the conclusion that they were in big trouble. Margaretha took her coat and tried to cover the fact that her new coat was now a few sizes to small. “Blast that furnace,” she muttered under her breath.
Father cleared his throat behind the girls and they both turned slowly to face him. They had been caught red handed.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
The Canals
Fall is quickly approaching. The shadows become longer and the nights are starting earlier. The lazy, carefree days of summer have turned into a slightly more scripted kind of living. The city seems to transform itself into a new creature each season. She smiles as young school children run to tell their waiting parents what they learned that day in school. Some of the kids turn her way and wave and others look away quickly.
A bitter wind begins biting at her cheeks as she perches on a bench overlooking the canal. She pulls out her notebook and begins soaking in Amsterdam in the fall. Another gust comes and ruffles her papers. She glances out towards the ocean and sees an ominous wall of dark clouds rapidly advancing.
The tall canal houses lining the waterways form a picture that looks like playhouses ready to host a tea party. Pointy roofs or flat and grand on top, each building is unique and mysterious. The sun is still shinning enough to cast their reflection on the canals below making a mirror image of this toy village. They are all made of red brick though some are beginning to show their age with various stages of fading, while others have been painted a dark red. It is only by color that you can tell they are all individual. The tall rectangle windows gracing the front of each building are like portals into another world, another story that needs to be told. One bye one, the windows are being shut to block out the onslaught of chilly gusts from the advancing storm and the lights being turned on to ward off the darkness.
Margaretha briefly closes her eyes and reopens them in order to take in the story playing out in front of her. The people dressed in long coats, were walking swiftly over the slippery, rugged brown and grey cobblestone streets trying to get to their destination before the deluge. The street lights were beginning to cast their glow on the city. Bikes were noisily complaining while being navigated through the rough terrain and cars swiftly traversing through the too busy streets. The canal boats were quickly motoring in to dock for the evening and the large ships were steaming towards the safety of the harbor. Everyone and everything was on a mission and moved together seamlessly through an orderly chaos. She feels like a small puzzle piece in a grand picture that only she is able to appreciate.
The rain approaches like a curtain covering a window. She slowly stands up and gathers her notebook and belongings. She begins winding her way through the rain sodden streets, dodging cars, bikes and people while humming a new song that she was sure to be an emotional piece. She is anxious to sit in front of her cello and create her new work and hopefully be able to share it with others soon.
A bitter wind begins biting at her cheeks as she perches on a bench overlooking the canal. She pulls out her notebook and begins soaking in Amsterdam in the fall. Another gust comes and ruffles her papers. She glances out towards the ocean and sees an ominous wall of dark clouds rapidly advancing.
The tall canal houses lining the waterways form a picture that looks like playhouses ready to host a tea party. Pointy roofs or flat and grand on top, each building is unique and mysterious. The sun is still shinning enough to cast their reflection on the canals below making a mirror image of this toy village. They are all made of red brick though some are beginning to show their age with various stages of fading, while others have been painted a dark red. It is only by color that you can tell they are all individual. The tall rectangle windows gracing the front of each building are like portals into another world, another story that needs to be told. One bye one, the windows are being shut to block out the onslaught of chilly gusts from the advancing storm and the lights being turned on to ward off the darkness.
Margaretha briefly closes her eyes and reopens them in order to take in the story playing out in front of her. The people dressed in long coats, were walking swiftly over the slippery, rugged brown and grey cobblestone streets trying to get to their destination before the deluge. The street lights were beginning to cast their glow on the city. Bikes were noisily complaining while being navigated through the rough terrain and cars swiftly traversing through the too busy streets. The canal boats were quickly motoring in to dock for the evening and the large ships were steaming towards the safety of the harbor. Everyone and everything was on a mission and moved together seamlessly through an orderly chaos. She feels like a small puzzle piece in a grand picture that only she is able to appreciate.
The rain approaches like a curtain covering a window. She slowly stands up and gathers her notebook and belongings. She begins winding her way through the rain sodden streets, dodging cars, bikes and people while humming a new song that she was sure to be an emotional piece. She is anxious to sit in front of her cello and create her new work and hopefully be able to share it with others soon.
Monsters
“Three, two, one. Ready or not here I come!!!”
My older brother is the easiest person to find in this game. I have no idea why I play this with him. I usually find him in his room playing video games. How is that hiding?
“Time for bed!”
That is our babysitter. She always puts us to bed earlier than mom and dad do. She always has her friends over when we are supposed to be sleeping. I wonder if mom and dad know?
Her friends are the least of my worries right now. I have to make sure my room is safe for me to go to bed. I turn on every light I have in my bedroom and start searching. I have my light saber at the ready in case of an attack. I throw open my closet and jump into fighting stance. I use my saber to move things around searching everything in there. I shut the door and move a stack of books in front of the door. I will know if anything tries to come out of there.
I get on my tummy and start crawling around my room. I look under the dresser, under my night stands and a long inspection under my bed. That is usually where they hide. It looks like my room is clear so I can brush my teeth and jump into bed with Teddy, my protector.
My babysitter tucks me in. I have Teddy and my light saber by my side. I make sure all the sheets are tucked under my bed and that they cover my head except for one eye. I need to make sure I can see everything. If anything does come in my room, I am safe if my toes are covered by the sheet. Those silly monsters won’t think to look in my bed if my toes aren’t hanging out. She shuts my door but cracks it open after I yell to her that she shut it all the way. Babysitters are so dumb; you never shut my door all the way. What is she thinking?
I say my prayers and make one last look around the room. I think the coast is clear and I can finally go to bed.
My eyes fly open, what was that? I here a scratching noise from under my bed and it is getting louder and louder. I look around the room and I don’t see anything. I grab my saber and hold Teddy close and make sure my toes are covered. I breathe quietly so the monster can’t here me. Something is tugging on my blankets. That isn’t supposed to happen! Monsters don’t touch the bed. I see a movement to my right; a big hairy disgusting arm is making its way onto my bed. I can’t take it anymore!
“HELP! MONSTER!”
The babysitter runs in my room looking very angry with me. She turns on the lights and marches to where the monster is coming from and pulls my brother out from under my bed by his shirt. He is laughing so hard he is crying.
My brother is so stupid. When mom and dad got home, I told them all about what he did. I may have added some things to the story to make sure he got in lots of trouble. Daddy got mad at my brother and put him on restriction for two whole weeks! I was so happy. I don’t think he will ever scare me again, we will leave that to the real monsters.
My older brother is the easiest person to find in this game. I have no idea why I play this with him. I usually find him in his room playing video games. How is that hiding?
“Time for bed!”
That is our babysitter. She always puts us to bed earlier than mom and dad do. She always has her friends over when we are supposed to be sleeping. I wonder if mom and dad know?
Her friends are the least of my worries right now. I have to make sure my room is safe for me to go to bed. I turn on every light I have in my bedroom and start searching. I have my light saber at the ready in case of an attack. I throw open my closet and jump into fighting stance. I use my saber to move things around searching everything in there. I shut the door and move a stack of books in front of the door. I will know if anything tries to come out of there.
I get on my tummy and start crawling around my room. I look under the dresser, under my night stands and a long inspection under my bed. That is usually where they hide. It looks like my room is clear so I can brush my teeth and jump into bed with Teddy, my protector.
My babysitter tucks me in. I have Teddy and my light saber by my side. I make sure all the sheets are tucked under my bed and that they cover my head except for one eye. I need to make sure I can see everything. If anything does come in my room, I am safe if my toes are covered by the sheet. Those silly monsters won’t think to look in my bed if my toes aren’t hanging out. She shuts my door but cracks it open after I yell to her that she shut it all the way. Babysitters are so dumb; you never shut my door all the way. What is she thinking?
I say my prayers and make one last look around the room. I think the coast is clear and I can finally go to bed.
My eyes fly open, what was that? I here a scratching noise from under my bed and it is getting louder and louder. I look around the room and I don’t see anything. I grab my saber and hold Teddy close and make sure my toes are covered. I breathe quietly so the monster can’t here me. Something is tugging on my blankets. That isn’t supposed to happen! Monsters don’t touch the bed. I see a movement to my right; a big hairy disgusting arm is making its way onto my bed. I can’t take it anymore!
“HELP! MONSTER!”
The babysitter runs in my room looking very angry with me. She turns on the lights and marches to where the monster is coming from and pulls my brother out from under my bed by his shirt. He is laughing so hard he is crying.
My brother is so stupid. When mom and dad got home, I told them all about what he did. I may have added some things to the story to make sure he got in lots of trouble. Daddy got mad at my brother and put him on restriction for two whole weeks! I was so happy. I don’t think he will ever scare me again, we will leave that to the real monsters.
The Storm
The bright blue sky looked like it lasted forever until it was met by a darker hued sea. The white caps of the ever growing waves were an indication that a storm was brewing beyond the eternal meeting of the sky and sea. The ships were quickly moving into harbor so that they could moor in the safety of the docks. Every sailor knew that being out in a strong winter storm could mean the death of you. There would be no one to search for survivors until the storm blew its course and the fleet could get out to sea again.
The icy water lapped the side of the vessel and the crew was able to see the shore approaching in the very far distance. Normally they would put their sails down so they could cruise into the harbor but the storm was coming faster than anyone imagined. Sailors were running to and fro battening down the hatches and blowing out lanterns in case there were knocked over. The only thing that could be heard is the incessant clanging of metal and creaking of the wooden planks on the ship. The captain would bellow out orders from time to time but wanted the crew to keep their head down and finish their tasks.
He stood tall and proud at the helm of the ship, holding onto the wheel, praying that they would make it in before the storm reached them. His crew of 120 sailors depended on him to deliver them safely back to their waiting families. He could see the lights of the city in front of him, though still out of reach. He quickly glanced behind and the storm was approaching like a wild herd of horses on the plains of the New World. Fear gripped his heart but his mind was clear as day and he knew what he had to do.
Upon his orders, the crew gathered on the main deck and listened to the Captain. “Gentleman, it has been my pleasure to sail with you across the Atlantic and back. We have had smooth sailing but we pressed our luck. We are not making into the harbor before the storm is upon us. Please pray with me that we will survive the night. We must be brave and hold strong in our faith.”
Before he could finish, the storm hit the ship like a like a deafening explosion.
The icy water lapped the side of the vessel and the crew was able to see the shore approaching in the very far distance. Normally they would put their sails down so they could cruise into the harbor but the storm was coming faster than anyone imagined. Sailors were running to and fro battening down the hatches and blowing out lanterns in case there were knocked over. The only thing that could be heard is the incessant clanging of metal and creaking of the wooden planks on the ship. The captain would bellow out orders from time to time but wanted the crew to keep their head down and finish their tasks.
He stood tall and proud at the helm of the ship, holding onto the wheel, praying that they would make it in before the storm reached them. His crew of 120 sailors depended on him to deliver them safely back to their waiting families. He could see the lights of the city in front of him, though still out of reach. He quickly glanced behind and the storm was approaching like a wild herd of horses on the plains of the New World. Fear gripped his heart but his mind was clear as day and he knew what he had to do.
Upon his orders, the crew gathered on the main deck and listened to the Captain. “Gentleman, it has been my pleasure to sail with you across the Atlantic and back. We have had smooth sailing but we pressed our luck. We are not making into the harbor before the storm is upon us. Please pray with me that we will survive the night. We must be brave and hold strong in our faith.”
Before he could finish, the storm hit the ship like a like a deafening explosion.
Another round
(more pieces from my workshop)
“We could try another round of treatment, but the numbers were great the last three cycles. I think we need to step up the treatments for us to see success,” Dr. Lee said to Amy and Dave.
Disappointment, frustration, anger and hopelessness, a mix of emotions washes over the faces of the husband and wife. It has been three long years of trying, hoping, waiting and ultimately nothing to show for it. Were they ever going to be able to start a family? How could they afford another round of treatments? What about their hopes and dreams?
“Thank you Doctor for your help these last four months but I think I need to give my body a rest from the medications. We have talked this over before coming to see you and we are going to let nature take its course and see if that works again.” Amy held her husbands hand while saying this. She was confident in her words but her eyes betrayed her, there was a strong chance that they were not going to be able to conceive.
With heavy hearts, both were silent as while they made their way home taking in the surroundings. People driving here and there talking on their phones with not a care in world it seems. Teenagers pushing the speed limits while laughing at some joke and not paying as much attention as they should. The sky was grey with water filled clouds that were threatening to unleash a torrent at any moment. The concrete jungle filled with workers going about their mundane routines. Everything seemed to rush by and no one understood the crushing defeat they feel.
Once they were home, they held each other for a long time. This was a hard pill to swallow for both of them. Dreams of raising a family faded like the sun at the end of a winter day, quickly, while leaving the world around them bitter cold. It felt as if there was a ton of bricks weighing on their chest and a sharp object trying to pierce their hearts. This acute pain was present for many months.
Trying to be brave, the couple put on a smile and went on with life and endured the fact that everyone took this natural course of life for granted. No one could understand the pain of not being able to have your own family. All the hopes of taking the kids to their grandparents’ for holidays or celebrating their first birthday or their first baseball game was so real for so long but still play in their minds.
While lying in bed one warm summer night, a thought came to her. Amy cautiously approached her husband with a solution.
“Maybe we can still have a family. What about all the children who do not have parents? They have no home to go to or parents to tuck them in at night. We know that we are a strong family already and there are children out there who need our help.”
Dave took a minute to digest this information. Shock, hope and determination played across his face. How could he have been so selfish to not think about the orphans? Who cares if the baby doesn’t have their eyes, the child would be theirs to raise.
That night, they prayed to God as hard as they could that this could be the answer to their plight.
“We could try another round of treatment, but the numbers were great the last three cycles. I think we need to step up the treatments for us to see success,” Dr. Lee said to Amy and Dave.
Disappointment, frustration, anger and hopelessness, a mix of emotions washes over the faces of the husband and wife. It has been three long years of trying, hoping, waiting and ultimately nothing to show for it. Were they ever going to be able to start a family? How could they afford another round of treatments? What about their hopes and dreams?
“Thank you Doctor for your help these last four months but I think I need to give my body a rest from the medications. We have talked this over before coming to see you and we are going to let nature take its course and see if that works again.” Amy held her husbands hand while saying this. She was confident in her words but her eyes betrayed her, there was a strong chance that they were not going to be able to conceive.
With heavy hearts, both were silent as while they made their way home taking in the surroundings. People driving here and there talking on their phones with not a care in world it seems. Teenagers pushing the speed limits while laughing at some joke and not paying as much attention as they should. The sky was grey with water filled clouds that were threatening to unleash a torrent at any moment. The concrete jungle filled with workers going about their mundane routines. Everything seemed to rush by and no one understood the crushing defeat they feel.
Once they were home, they held each other for a long time. This was a hard pill to swallow for both of them. Dreams of raising a family faded like the sun at the end of a winter day, quickly, while leaving the world around them bitter cold. It felt as if there was a ton of bricks weighing on their chest and a sharp object trying to pierce their hearts. This acute pain was present for many months.
Trying to be brave, the couple put on a smile and went on with life and endured the fact that everyone took this natural course of life for granted. No one could understand the pain of not being able to have your own family. All the hopes of taking the kids to their grandparents’ for holidays or celebrating their first birthday or their first baseball game was so real for so long but still play in their minds.
While lying in bed one warm summer night, a thought came to her. Amy cautiously approached her husband with a solution.
“Maybe we can still have a family. What about all the children who do not have parents? They have no home to go to or parents to tuck them in at night. We know that we are a strong family already and there are children out there who need our help.”
Dave took a minute to digest this information. Shock, hope and determination played across his face. How could he have been so selfish to not think about the orphans? Who cares if the baby doesn’t have their eyes, the child would be theirs to raise.
That night, they prayed to God as hard as they could that this could be the answer to their plight.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Whole Again
Another piece from my writer's workshop:
“Blake?”
“Allie?”
My head is reeling, has it really been that long? We stood staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. We didn’t notice the bright blue sky that finally found its way out of weeks of fog. Nor did we notice the park filled with families playing on this warm Saturday morning. All that was here, was us, just as it was all those years ago.
I stared into his eyes and saw our past beginning to come to light in his mind after so many fresh memories burying his younger years. His boyish good looks had turned into a more refined and handsome version of his younger self. The scar is still on his right cheek. I wonder if he remembers me dropping a plate on him when he lifted me to reach the freshly baked cookies set high on the counter so we wouldn’t get them. We were always getting into mischief when we were little, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. We had been inseparable for as long as I could remember. We were meant to be together, there was no question in my mind.
Our last day together came crashing into our thoughts at the same time. It was 18 years, 3 weeks and 4 days ago. The pain of that day is always fresh in my mind.
“Please do not go to England, I need you here!” I had cried as he held me close. I could feel my world crumbling around me. My perfectly laid out plans for my future were being ruined.
“You need to go to Stanford and get that education. You have a full ride and you know there is no other way to afford school,” he urged. I had to live with my grandparents from a young age since my parents decided to be missionaries in Africa. They said it wasn’t safe for me and that they would be home soon, they never returned. I had to work my way through high school to help pay the bills and a college education was out of the picture until I was offered a swimming scholarship.
I was so angry at him for being so practical. I knew it was the right decision for both of us but I couldn’t bear the thought of being so far away. He was offered a once in a lifetime opportunity to work in England for the next 8 years. How could he leave me, I was his soul mate?
I cooked dinner for him the night before he left. When he walked into my tiny apartment and saw the dim lights and candles on the table, a look came into his eyes that I never wanted to see again. He and I both knew that we may not see each other again. He held me and whispered into my ear that we would always be close and that I only needed to call him if there was a problem. He pulled away and ruffled my hair and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. Trying to act tougher than he was, he smiled and said “Cheer up kiddo, you will meet lots of new friends in college and completely forget about me.Remember, I will always love you” With that, Blake walked out of my life for what I though would be forever. I fell to my knees and wept until the candles burned out.
We lost touch after a few years, but now, here I am staring at my childhood love, my soul mate in present day. After years of looking for him and running into dead ends, Blake is here.
“Come push me in the swing ,” yelled a child, bringing us back to reality. My heart dropped when Blake turned and smiled at the child. My eyes betrayed my disappointment. Blake ruffled my hair like he used to and said, “Allison, he isn’t talking to me. I couldn’t find anyone that makes me feel complete except for you. I have been looking for years to find you.”
Blake offered me his arm and we walked through the park. In that moment, I could hope that we really were meant to be together. He has always made me whole and the pieces that fell apart so long ago, are finally put back together. I rested my head on his arm as we talked for hours, just as we always did.
“Blake?”
“Allie?”
My head is reeling, has it really been that long? We stood staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. We didn’t notice the bright blue sky that finally found its way out of weeks of fog. Nor did we notice the park filled with families playing on this warm Saturday morning. All that was here, was us, just as it was all those years ago.
I stared into his eyes and saw our past beginning to come to light in his mind after so many fresh memories burying his younger years. His boyish good looks had turned into a more refined and handsome version of his younger self. The scar is still on his right cheek. I wonder if he remembers me dropping a plate on him when he lifted me to reach the freshly baked cookies set high on the counter so we wouldn’t get them. We were always getting into mischief when we were little, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. We had been inseparable for as long as I could remember. We were meant to be together, there was no question in my mind.
Our last day together came crashing into our thoughts at the same time. It was 18 years, 3 weeks and 4 days ago. The pain of that day is always fresh in my mind.
“Please do not go to England, I need you here!” I had cried as he held me close. I could feel my world crumbling around me. My perfectly laid out plans for my future were being ruined.
“You need to go to Stanford and get that education. You have a full ride and you know there is no other way to afford school,” he urged. I had to live with my grandparents from a young age since my parents decided to be missionaries in Africa. They said it wasn’t safe for me and that they would be home soon, they never returned. I had to work my way through high school to help pay the bills and a college education was out of the picture until I was offered a swimming scholarship.
I was so angry at him for being so practical. I knew it was the right decision for both of us but I couldn’t bear the thought of being so far away. He was offered a once in a lifetime opportunity to work in England for the next 8 years. How could he leave me, I was his soul mate?
I cooked dinner for him the night before he left. When he walked into my tiny apartment and saw the dim lights and candles on the table, a look came into his eyes that I never wanted to see again. He and I both knew that we may not see each other again. He held me and whispered into my ear that we would always be close and that I only needed to call him if there was a problem. He pulled away and ruffled my hair and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. Trying to act tougher than he was, he smiled and said “Cheer up kiddo, you will meet lots of new friends in college and completely forget about me.Remember, I will always love you” With that, Blake walked out of my life for what I though would be forever. I fell to my knees and wept until the candles burned out.
We lost touch after a few years, but now, here I am staring at my childhood love, my soul mate in present day. After years of looking for him and running into dead ends, Blake is here.
“Come push me in the swing ,” yelled a child, bringing us back to reality. My heart dropped when Blake turned and smiled at the child. My eyes betrayed my disappointment. Blake ruffled my hair like he used to and said, “Allison, he isn’t talking to me. I couldn’t find anyone that makes me feel complete except for you. I have been looking for years to find you.”
Blake offered me his arm and we walked through the park. In that moment, I could hope that we really were meant to be together. He has always made me whole and the pieces that fell apart so long ago, are finally put back together. I rested my head on his arm as we talked for hours, just as we always did.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Tanta Rita
This is from a creative writing course I am taking. We had to develop a character.
The young woman wipes her damp palms on her skirt. She isn’t focused on her surroundings, only how to navigate her way a few feet to her destination. She makes note of the small grooves in the floor and the chairs that sit like obstacles waiting to grasp her feet. She takes a deep breath and puts one foot in front of the other, slowly gaining confidence as she proceeds. When she reaches her chair, she places one hand on the back and smiles at the audience and slides down into her seat. She can read their expressions because it was always the same before she played. People think that someone like her couldn’t create anything worth taking note. She smiles to herself, because she knows how they will feel after her performance.
The young woman with brown hair pulled into a bun at the back of her neck, speaks confidently with only a small hint of nervousness, “My name is Margaretha, and I will be performing a song that I wrote while watching the boats sail in the canals of Amsterdam with a storm quickly approaching.”
With this, the young woman closes her light colored eyes and sees the notes and the melodies swirling in her mind. This path is much easier for her to travel as she has been down it many times. Her instrument, the cello, is much larger than her but she handles it with the ease of a master. Her arms move with the strength and confidence of one who has played this instrument all her life. She sits tall and proud with the instrument becoming a part of her being.
The audience is immediately entranced with the deep melodies coming from this large instrument and tiny player. At times the music is inquisitive and playful and quickly turns dark and foreboding. The woman can feel the emotions of the captive audience and she takes them through the emotional story while never uttering a word. The music comes to a sweeping end and the onlookers collectively take a deep breath, not realizing they had been holding their breath so they wouldn’t miss a note. The musician had made the cynical audience forget that she had a curve in her back and moved slower than others.
The young woman stands and politely bows to the audience. She once again smiles to herself after seeing all of them standing and wiping tears from their eyes. Behind her light eyes is the mind of a musical genius who can take an audience into their own imagination. Never once did she let this curve in her back stop her from doing what she wanted.
The young woman wipes her damp palms on her skirt. She isn’t focused on her surroundings, only how to navigate her way a few feet to her destination. She makes note of the small grooves in the floor and the chairs that sit like obstacles waiting to grasp her feet. She takes a deep breath and puts one foot in front of the other, slowly gaining confidence as she proceeds. When she reaches her chair, she places one hand on the back and smiles at the audience and slides down into her seat. She can read their expressions because it was always the same before she played. People think that someone like her couldn’t create anything worth taking note. She smiles to herself, because she knows how they will feel after her performance.
The young woman with brown hair pulled into a bun at the back of her neck, speaks confidently with only a small hint of nervousness, “My name is Margaretha, and I will be performing a song that I wrote while watching the boats sail in the canals of Amsterdam with a storm quickly approaching.”
With this, the young woman closes her light colored eyes and sees the notes and the melodies swirling in her mind. This path is much easier for her to travel as she has been down it many times. Her instrument, the cello, is much larger than her but she handles it with the ease of a master. Her arms move with the strength and confidence of one who has played this instrument all her life. She sits tall and proud with the instrument becoming a part of her being.
The audience is immediately entranced with the deep melodies coming from this large instrument and tiny player. At times the music is inquisitive and playful and quickly turns dark and foreboding. The woman can feel the emotions of the captive audience and she takes them through the emotional story while never uttering a word. The music comes to a sweeping end and the onlookers collectively take a deep breath, not realizing they had been holding their breath so they wouldn’t miss a note. The musician had made the cynical audience forget that she had a curve in her back and moved slower than others.
The young woman stands and politely bows to the audience. She once again smiles to herself after seeing all of them standing and wiping tears from their eyes. Behind her light eyes is the mind of a musical genius who can take an audience into their own imagination. Never once did she let this curve in her back stop her from doing what she wanted.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Daydreaming
What do you daydream about? When I was young I was always daydreaming, though in my older years I am finding that I have less time to do that. I think the world may be a more peaceful place if everyone could just have a few minutes to let their mind wonder because sometimes your happy place is a lot better than reality.
My daydreams usually took the form of being in movies or TV shows. I could see myself accepting my Oscar or Emmy and thanking all the little people for believing in me and mom driving me to my auditions and dad for encouraging me to reach for the stars. After my speech was done and the after show interviews were done I would snap back to the present and realize that I either A. Missed a key piece of information for homework or B. Missed the question that the teacher was posing to me. Awkward moments to say the least.
Performing has always been a part of my life and probably always will be. I was always the first on stage if they needed volunteers or I was writing my own plays to present to my family. I am sure they were cheesy but I had fun and that is what counts.
Daydreaming can also be used as a tool to find the path that one should travel down. I wished I has realized that when I was younger. I always believed that acting was the only profession that could give me the happiness in show biz. Looking back, I think I did more writing than acting. I was always creating stories in my head and is essentially what daydreaming is about, making movies in your head. I have decided to take a creative writing workshop to get a better grasp on getting my stories out. I feel as though I have so much to tell but just not sure of the right format.
So I will continue to daydream and making movies in my head and who knows...maybe one day I will be accepting my Oscar or Emmy, just not for the accomplishment that I used to think.
My daydreams usually took the form of being in movies or TV shows. I could see myself accepting my Oscar or Emmy and thanking all the little people for believing in me and mom driving me to my auditions and dad for encouraging me to reach for the stars. After my speech was done and the after show interviews were done I would snap back to the present and realize that I either A. Missed a key piece of information for homework or B. Missed the question that the teacher was posing to me. Awkward moments to say the least.
Performing has always been a part of my life and probably always will be. I was always the first on stage if they needed volunteers or I was writing my own plays to present to my family. I am sure they were cheesy but I had fun and that is what counts.
Daydreaming can also be used as a tool to find the path that one should travel down. I wished I has realized that when I was younger. I always believed that acting was the only profession that could give me the happiness in show biz. Looking back, I think I did more writing than acting. I was always creating stories in my head and is essentially what daydreaming is about, making movies in your head. I have decided to take a creative writing workshop to get a better grasp on getting my stories out. I feel as though I have so much to tell but just not sure of the right format.
So I will continue to daydream and making movies in my head and who knows...maybe one day I will be accepting my Oscar or Emmy, just not for the accomplishment that I used to think.
Friday, July 24, 2009
The really real housewife of Orange County
Yes my friends, these A cups are real. I did not have them enhanced, pushed up or plumped up. I have to debunk the myth that all Orange County women have fake boobs. Now that nasty business is out of the way, let me expound on the life of a real Orange County woman.
At times I have wondered what it would be like to be a reality TV star, having a camera crew follow me around all day chronicling the daily happenings of my life. It would go something like this:
I wake up at 6AM to start my day, have breakfast, walk the dog and take a shower. I then sit in front of the computer and do the paperwork for the business, call the clubs to get updates and pay the bills. I scan the emails and check up on Facebook. I then buzz around to the clubs, after I return from working at the clubs, hubby is not to far behind and we walk the dog again, feed him, go to the gym, have dinner and watch something on TV.
I have determined that I would make a horrible TV star. First off, my life is way to normal. I do not have a maid to clean the house or wash the dog. I do not have a butler to answer the phone or fetch the mail. I do have a husband who is very helpful around the house though. He opens the door for me, picks up Maverick's business and takes out the garbage. I do the laundry and pay the bills and do most of the grocery shopping. We both share the cooking though he does the dishes since that chore really, really bugs me. I do not go out to wild parties with the girls while dear hubby sits at home playing Guitar Hero.
So this means that if I had any shot at being a Reality TV Housewife, I would have to get new boobs, a car that is worth more than my house and my neighbors house and their neighbors house, I would have to pump up my lips and get botox so my face doesn't show as much expression. I would have to spend a lot of money on a fake tan because being pasty doesn't cut it in reality world. I would have to change my name to Trixie or Barbie or be named after a small country and get a dog that fits in my purse. I tried fitting our 83 pound German Shep. in one and I now need a new purse. I think it would cost to much money to turn myself into those women so I will stick with the way that I am....blissfully normal or abnormal depending on what point of view you take.
At times I have wondered what it would be like to be a reality TV star, having a camera crew follow me around all day chronicling the daily happenings of my life. It would go something like this:
I wake up at 6AM to start my day, have breakfast, walk the dog and take a shower. I then sit in front of the computer and do the paperwork for the business, call the clubs to get updates and pay the bills. I scan the emails and check up on Facebook. I then buzz around to the clubs, after I return from working at the clubs, hubby is not to far behind and we walk the dog again, feed him, go to the gym, have dinner and watch something on TV.
I have determined that I would make a horrible TV star. First off, my life is way to normal. I do not have a maid to clean the house or wash the dog. I do not have a butler to answer the phone or fetch the mail. I do have a husband who is very helpful around the house though. He opens the door for me, picks up Maverick's business and takes out the garbage. I do the laundry and pay the bills and do most of the grocery shopping. We both share the cooking though he does the dishes since that chore really, really bugs me. I do not go out to wild parties with the girls while dear hubby sits at home playing Guitar Hero.
So this means that if I had any shot at being a Reality TV Housewife, I would have to get new boobs, a car that is worth more than my house and my neighbors house and their neighbors house, I would have to pump up my lips and get botox so my face doesn't show as much expression. I would have to spend a lot of money on a fake tan because being pasty doesn't cut it in reality world. I would have to change my name to Trixie or Barbie or be named after a small country and get a dog that fits in my purse. I tried fitting our 83 pound German Shep. in one and I now need a new purse. I think it would cost to much money to turn myself into those women so I will stick with the way that I am....blissfully normal or abnormal depending on what point of view you take.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Who is that blonde?
Ever since I could remember, I have been a camera hog. I will admit in my advanced years, I haven't leaned in that direction, though it won't take much for me to head that way again. Since I was a very shy kid, being on stage was a way for me to "not be me." I could take on any persona and I did with gusto, from a grumpy old lady to a singing hill billy. If there was a camera within spitting distance, I would put on my brightest smile and get in that picture no matter who was taking it. I was even known by a few to lean into someones vacation photos at Disneyland and sneak away without them knowing. To this day, those tourists are probably wondering who that dumb blonde in the photo is. You see, blonde hair sticks out in a photo full of dark haired tourists. Ahhh, to be young again.
I was in many plays when I was younger and I made it a point during the staging part of the production to perfectly align myself so I was front and center at all times. I am sneaky like that. Later when I was doing extra work, once again, my camera hog persona came into play. The directors used to laugh and let me know that I couldn't be in all the shots for continuity sake. Blast those people who pay attention to detail, such a buzz kill.
Not a time goes by when I watch a movie or TV show and think of what could have been. This is a path that many try to travel but end up having to choose another way. My "normal" upbringing has led me to choose the safe path that included getting my college degree and getting a grown up job. In case you are wondering, Theater was one of my many many degrees of choice. Maybe I should have tried getting in the back door by being a screenwriter and writing the perfect character that only a certain blonde haired someone could have done. Ugh, why didn't I think of that sooner! This imagination of mine is nothing but trouble!
I think they need me on set, so I must go. (I am just practicing that line in case Spielberg calls me up!!!) Until next time, make today a good one!!
I was in many plays when I was younger and I made it a point during the staging part of the production to perfectly align myself so I was front and center at all times. I am sneaky like that. Later when I was doing extra work, once again, my camera hog persona came into play. The directors used to laugh and let me know that I couldn't be in all the shots for continuity sake. Blast those people who pay attention to detail, such a buzz kill.
Not a time goes by when I watch a movie or TV show and think of what could have been. This is a path that many try to travel but end up having to choose another way. My "normal" upbringing has led me to choose the safe path that included getting my college degree and getting a grown up job. In case you are wondering, Theater was one of my many many degrees of choice. Maybe I should have tried getting in the back door by being a screenwriter and writing the perfect character that only a certain blonde haired someone could have done. Ugh, why didn't I think of that sooner! This imagination of mine is nothing but trouble!
I think they need me on set, so I must go. (I am just practicing that line in case Spielberg calls me up!!!) Until next time, make today a good one!!
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Where to begin
Who the hell said we have to grow up, get a grown up job and act like a grown up? I think that person had some serious issues and needs to talk with someone about their not so sunny disposition or maybe I am the one who needs to talk to somone, which is probably more like it. I believe that blogging is much less expensive than therapy anyway, so here ya go.
I grew up in a pretty normal household with ma, pa and the older brother. We had the dog and white picket fence and the kids in the neighborhood to play with after school. Mom and dad encouraged us to use our imagination and be creative, though mom was a bit scared of things that could cause bodily injury. (She didn't want me to play soccer for fear of the ball hitting my head and giving me brain damage..I kid you not) A very ideal upbringing to be sure, maybe that is where things took a wrong turn. My over active imagination has lead to my fear of clowns and my need to always look for something new to explore. Don't laugh, because I am not the only one with clown-a-phobia.
The need to explore new things led me to changing my major in college 9 times in a three year span and ending up with a degree in communications. I now have the need to go back to get more advanced degrees because I am a sick puppy who would enjoy nothing more than being a professional student. It took me awhile but I have found my calling in the fitness industry though I am still finding my niche in said industry. I have many ideas about what I should do but that darn imagination comes and rears his head again and turns me down another path. I think I need an imagination guillotine.
Now that you know a little more about me, I shall be expanding on the ever changing enigma that is my mind. If I offend anyone in my future posts, oh well, I can't control the flood of thoughts that are in my overworked brain. Thank you for being my therapy partner.
Until next time, make today a good one.
I grew up in a pretty normal household with ma, pa and the older brother. We had the dog and white picket fence and the kids in the neighborhood to play with after school. Mom and dad encouraged us to use our imagination and be creative, though mom was a bit scared of things that could cause bodily injury. (She didn't want me to play soccer for fear of the ball hitting my head and giving me brain damage..I kid you not) A very ideal upbringing to be sure, maybe that is where things took a wrong turn. My over active imagination has lead to my fear of clowns and my need to always look for something new to explore. Don't laugh, because I am not the only one with clown-a-phobia.
The need to explore new things led me to changing my major in college 9 times in a three year span and ending up with a degree in communications. I now have the need to go back to get more advanced degrees because I am a sick puppy who would enjoy nothing more than being a professional student. It took me awhile but I have found my calling in the fitness industry though I am still finding my niche in said industry. I have many ideas about what I should do but that darn imagination comes and rears his head again and turns me down another path. I think I need an imagination guillotine.
Now that you know a little more about me, I shall be expanding on the ever changing enigma that is my mind. If I offend anyone in my future posts, oh well, I can't control the flood of thoughts that are in my overworked brain. Thank you for being my therapy partner.
Until next time, make today a good one.
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