Everybody has a story.... I miss hearing those stories. It's funny to think that years ago, I was sick of hearing people's stories. In the town I grew up in, people are always telling you their stories to the point where you come to not want to hear them anymore. But it's not like that everywhere. People don't seem to want to share their stories here.

An odd thing though is that a few books from past have been made into films. Recently, I saw that the book Into The Wild, written by Jon Krakaur, is the story of the life and death of Christopher McCandless, has been made into a film written and directed by Sean Penn. I remember really enjoying the book. It was a good story but was also very well written. The author did not just lay out the story chronologically, but relayed it as though you were uncovering the young man's journey, somewhat like a detective, trying to figure out what happened to Christopher McCandless. I look forward to seeing how it is depicted on the screen and listening to the story again.

Life's little showers

As she opened the window, to listen to the falling rain drops, she could smell the earth. It was as though the rain brought the earth to life, awakening it from a hibernatious drought. The grass looked greener; the leaves sparkled as the sun reflected off the water droplets and there was a silence, except for the falling rain. In moments like this, it feels like time stops. Yet, she knows, with each raindrop that falls, so does a second pass. It is within these moments, she wishes to stay, to breath in the heavy air and feel alive.

She's always loved watching storms. She reflects on a memory, one of her fondest, of enjoying a solitary afternoon on the beach, listening to the waves crashing on the shore. Then, as the dark clouds down the beach started moving closer, and the tourist ran for safety, she smelt the rain in the air, felt the temperature drop and heard the waves pick up. She watched the summer shower pass down the beach, gently moistening the warm sand crystals, and then it was gone. Like a wave on the beach, it had come and gone with little impact.

With the beach deserted she noticed there was one other person who had not ran for safety with the tourists and others. As he came into closer view, she realized she new him. It was Marc Sweet, the brother of a grade school friend. She had spent every weekend and some holidays with his family for the better part of 6th through 8th grade, although she had not seen any of them in a few years now. Marc was one of her friend Ruby's older brothers. There was also Lee; Lee was the oldest. She had had a tremendous crush on Marc for years, but everyone did. The whole family was very attractive. When she was younger, she often wondered if that was how it always was. Good-looking people get together and have good-looking kids.... it makes sense, using kid logic. If you were good-looking, you would be attracted to someone who was also good-looking and then your kids would automatically be attractive as well.

After the general salutations, Marc says, "Oh, can you believe Ruby's getting married?" A little surprised she said no, she hadn't heard. Not that she should be surprised. Ruby and Ralph had been together for years and everyone knew they would eventually get married, yet it some how did surprise her. "Wow," she said, "I didn't know." "Yeah," Marc replied, "it's weird that she's getting married before me, with Lee married." Then there was a silence as she took it in. It was the first one of her friends to get married, although she didn't really considered them friends anymore. She hadn't heard from Ruby in years. Still, it was a defining moment for her somehow.

While she was still taking it all in, Matthew wondered back to his truck, packed up his board and drove off. She thought how attractive he still was and remembered the childhood crush, yet those memories seemed so distant. She felt like the storm was in a way, introducing her to a new part of her life. Though she didn't know it at the time, she was entering the a part of life where, friends go their separate ways, get married, have kids, start careers, though not in that particular order.

As she sat at the window, looking out, she thought about how distant that memory now seems and how many summer showers she's watched come and go. Though she enjoys the storm and life it brings, she is still grappling with the friends she's lost along the way. As the sadness settles in, she realizes the rain has stopped and the clouds have moved on. She feels the sun's rays intensify and hears the birds begin to sing; she tries to relinquish the sadness and focus on the positive. She thinks of the many storms to come and friends she hopes to meet.

She thinks a lot about the past. Too much, she thinks, of people who have come and gone. Why do people have to go? Go, go, go is all people ever do. So much time has passed. She knows because her hair is long. It is long enough to cover her chest. The ends are wavy and when she sees them, it reminds her of the ocean and she smiles.

As the wind gently blows her hair off her shoulders behind her; it laps against her back and she can smell the moisture in the air. These are the days she loves. The air is heavy, weighing down, like a light blanket and comforting as such. The temperature is hot, but the rain brings a cool intermittent breeze. She falls asleep listening to the rain knowing when she wakes, the rain will be gone, like those she once held close.

Finally

After a frustrating struggle, last week there was a breakthrough with work and I am happy to announce I have finally found the backbone for the paper I've been bumbling through. Now I just need to finish writing it. While being unable to make headway on the paper. I've been complementing the infinite stack of scientific papers with some fictional works so as to igniting my appreciation for writing and word usage. In addition to doing so, I am currently trying to write a little every couple days, the first of which I posted here and will continue to post them as they come.

Anger filled her body, running swiftly through her veins, the residue of a bad dream. It seemed too real and the anger was all too familiar. She rose from a long sleep, yet exhausted from the dream, the way emotions are tiring. Turning on her pmp she steps into the shower. As the water temp is adjusted she hears it, one of his songs. Just a song to anyone else, but it is distinctly his in her mind. As thoughts of him weight on her heart she wonders why she hasn't deleted it, that song and every other thing that reminds her of him. How can she live her life being reminded of him, but she can't just delete everything that is associated with him. It would be a different life.

As the song changes, she pulls herself back to the task at hand: a shower. Let's not start the day sorrowful, she tells herself. Even the shower reminds her of him. The smoothness of his skin and his scent next to her bare body. It felt so comforting and safe to be in his arms, she remembers. How can he have hurt her... and now be with the last person she was close with. Hadn't he ruined her life enough?

There was nothing she could about it now. What was done is done. She focuses on her morning chores of watering the plants, caring for the dog, and making coffee. As she finishes up she notes the time and heads out to make her 10 o'clock appointment. As she listens to her bicycle tires on the pavement diligently and smoothly thrusting her forward in time and space, she wonders when the memories will fade. It's been two years, when will her life be her own again and not haunted by the past?

Peaks and Valley's

Even within the valley, there's a sh*t ton of hills.........

It still amazes me how I can wake up happy, be in tears by midday, and then smiling again by evening... all emotions centered around the project. The Project. It has become the focus of my life as well as the source aggravation and multiple meltdowns. Knowing the graduate school was going to be filled with feelings of floundering and frustration, I braced for what was to come; however, since arriving to NC and enduring this experience, my life has changed in more ways than I would have imagined. Like a person who finds they have cancer and dies within the week, relationships once strong quickly withered and now only exist in memories. A few new connections have been made, though shallow in comparison to the depth of those that have been lost.

However, reflections are not the point of this post; it is, that being the point, why has happiness' role been so slim within this experience? The reason I am pondering on this question is not to cause more internal aggravation and conflict, but because the time is approaching in which decisions are gong to be made as to the location of experiences and focus of the next chapter in my life, i.e. where I live and what I am going to be doing, a job, and I do not want to make the same mistake. Yes many lessons have been learned through this experience and I now know I am stronger than I had thought, but I have also learned that I give up more easily than before, do not try as hard, have become more hesitant, and recover just as slowly if not slower from being hurt.

So what have I decided? I haven't. I've been pondering this topic for a at least the past 6 months, but within the previous few months, it's been dominating thought processes. I guess I feel like I need something to work towards, to keep momentum, to carry me through this last year and send me into the next. So far, it hasn't presented itself, but perhaps the effort has been from the wrong direction. All I know is that I want to get this f*cking project finished and move on, but move onto what?

That is the question of the day, week, and year............