I have always loved to write. When I was a kid I would write short stories, usually consisting of a girl (me) embarking on some adventure with an animal or two. By no means were they good, the grammar was appalling, but my imagination was so vivid and expanding, I would create multiple tales.

 I can still remember how I would clearly envision the sequence of events to the point where it it felt as though I had lived it. I would get so excited just thinking about my story coming to life that I wouldn’t stop until it was finished.

However, my childhood innocence has since disappeared and real life has been experienced.

While my passion for writing has never died, my willingness to do has. For writing brings things to life and there are some things that I would rather leave dead. I am scared to write certain things for the sole reason that once the words have escaped my mind they are no longer safe. Not only from prying eyes but from myself.

I want to be able to write uninhibited; fearless of what my hand will scrawl onto the paper. In short, I want to tell my story but I am not ready to read it.



A Drink With an Old Friend

Over this past weekend I met up with an old high school friend of mine for some after-work drinks. Prior to this meeting we hadn’t seen or spoken to each other for about five years, so I was a bit anxious to see how the night would unfold. When I saw her, however, that anxiousness turned into excitement and we went on to have a really great time catching up with each other.

On the way home, I began to feel a little bit guilty that I let all of these years go by without contacting her to at least say hello. I mean, it is not like she didn’t cross my mind from time to time, so why couldn’t I have simply have logged on to Facebook and shoot her a quick, “Hello, how are you” message? I think part of the reason for my failure to stay in touch stems from my anxiety disorder and my fear of making myself vulnerable to rejection, yet, I think the bigger part of the reason just has to do with life itself. It is easy to get caught up in life’s daily struggles and accomplishments, so much so that you begin to only think about the present and the future, never the past.

While it is important to not dwell in the past, it is equally as important to take some time to revisit the past. Looking into the past allows you to make sense of the present. Which is what I believe happened to me when I met up with a friend from my past. I was able to take a step back and understand that sometimes, people lose touch for no reason other than the fact that life took them in different directions. And that is okay, because life also has a funny way of leading those very people right back to you.

A Walk Through the Past

Today I had my field experience orientation at Einstein. It was so weird to walk through the hallways of my old high school. Everything felt so different, yet it felt the same. So many memories came back to me all at once, I could still feel the insecure girl that I used to be somewhere deep inside of me. I saw the bench where I used to sit with my ‘friends’ in 9th grade and the classroom I retreated to when they began to bully me. I passed by the locker me and my 3 friends shared and sat in front of  in 10th grade. I visited my 11th grade English teacher, Ms. Kelly (it took her a second to remember who I was, but when she did she said, “Ah! I remember you, you are a good writer). I don’t really remember anything from 12th grade. I had a half day schedule and as soon as third period was over I was gone.

What I remember the most though, was how much of an influence two of my  English teachers had on me; it is because of them I want to be an English teacher. Now here I am, five years later, walking through these halls again not as a high school student, but as college student.

I have already experienced high school, now it is time for me to observe it. This should be interesting.


Einstein's Main Street

Einstein’s Main Street