Inspire me

I recently started sharing some of my writings with a good friend of mine. Best I can tell he likes them, or at least he seems to like them. After reading through a couple, he asked me “why aren’t you still writing?” I’d stopped writing around sophomore year in college. I had plenty of assignments to work on for classes plus I’d decided to pledge a co-ed fraternity and was in a relationship. Those things took up most of my time and when I did have free time, I could usually use a good nap. That and I wrote when I was assigned a topic or when something inspired me to write, and nothing has really inspired me to pick up a pen lately. Which led to a more difficult follow up question: “What inspires you?”

This one stumped me and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. What drove me to write and why doesn’t it anymore? I started looking back through what I had written and thinking about why I wrote it. There were a few pieces about pain, neglect, hurt, rebellion. I guess I feel I’m past most of that and I’ve been too blessed in life to feel I have much right to complain about the few unpleasant blemishes. Others were about love, passion, lust. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship that was significant enough to bring about any strong emotions like that. And all the other pieces? Random tidbits based on close friends, special events, silly thoughts, assigned topics.

So now I’m questioning myself. Sure, life has changed a lot over the years, but is it really that different? I have friends now that are closer to me than ones I’ve ever had in the past. Life has been a pretty big adventure, I mean hey, I up and moved 6,000 miles from home. I’m surrounded by interesting places, people, and events. So what is missing? What inside me is gone, broken, or temporarily misplaced? I don’t want to say I’m hopeless; I believe things will get better than they are now. I don’t want to say I’m bored; there are plenty of interesting things that happen in a given day. Maybe it’s that I need someone to write for. Maybe I need someone that looks forward to reading my words. Maybe I just need to find some reason to make it matter more to me, to someone. I’m not really sure.

I guess I’m still left wondering why I don’t write, and even more importantly, why am I not inspired?

Every day has a soundtrack

I managed to completely fill my 160GB iPod. I didn’t do this on my own, of course. A large portion of the music was picked out by Va. That girl has some weird taste in music though. Most days, I’ll put my iPod on ‘shuffle songs’ and end up skipping through quite a few of them. Every once and a while, things fall into place and my iPod spits out the perfect soundtrack for the day. Today was one of those days and it was just what I needed. Here is my soundtrack of the day and links to the songs if I could find them (and yes, I know they are pretty random):

Union Dues by Sweatshop Union

Maisha by Bebe Cool

I’ve got to see you again by Norah Jones

LDN by Lily Allen

Ain’t got time by Tishamingo

Sugar we’re going down by Fall Out Boy

Carried Away by Tait

Baby girl- Leon Island by Chameleone

Cupid Shuffle by Cupid

Embers and Envelopes by Mae

And then they did a hula...

There are days when I start to wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. What sort of insane individual decides to just up and move not just across the country, but halfway across the Pacific Ocean. I start to worry that I’ve made a terrible decision and stress over the fact that I can’t seem to find a decent job (ok, so that’s largely due to the economy, but either way this isn’t the best place to start a career in business, especially marketing). One more than one occasion I’ve had to fight off the urge to call my mom in tears crying that I just want to go home. I want my family back, I want my baby back (Tora, my cat), I want everything that was so familiar. But, by some miracle, every time I get close to having a complete emotional breakdown, something or someone steps in to remind me why I’m here. Today was one of those days. Earlier this week it finally hit me; this will be the first time I’ve ever not spent Christmas or Christmas Eve with my mom. I’ve been alone on Christmas day before, but never for the entire holiday. It’s made for a rough week.

This morning a customer came into the store talking about what a beautiful island this is and how incredible blessed I am to live here. We talked about it a bit and I completely agreed with her, but as the day dragged on, that conversation faded into the background. Later at work we talked about having a pot luck Thanksgiving for those of us stuck working on Thursday. It sent me right back to my melancholy mood, thinking about being alone on holidays. As I walked my bike along the sidewalk on my way home from work, I heard some drums playing. Then, over the heads of people crowded around, I saw elaborate headpieces dancing around. Curiosity got the best of me and I stopped to check it out. One of the dance troupes was putting on a show for tourists. Drums beating, traditional Hawaiian chanting, and beautiful hula dancing. The women moved so gracefully. Their bodies swayed and flowed with the music as they told a story with their hands and faces. I watched them dance, and I watched the crowd awe at their talent. The men danced fiercely, like warriors, lunging at random tourists sitting in the crowd. It was fun to watch them jump as they made their playful attacks on the crowd.

I realized I was smiling. Where else in the world can you leave work and stumble upon a hula? How lucky am I! I’m completely surrounded by a beautiful culture and amazing people. There is such a rich heritage here, a story for everything. And here I am. I have the opportunity to experience so much, to learn, to play, to just observe and enjoy. How dare I forget the motto I adopted when I first wanted to move here. ‘A bad day in Hawaii is better than a good day anywhere else.’ Ok, so there are some exceptions, but it’s a good mentality. So consider this my apology to the universe and everyone in it. I’m sorry I ever take what I have for granted. I’m sorry I forget how amazing my situation in life is. Tomorrow, I will wake up and think ‘Wow. This is a dream, and this is my life.’
And to think, such a terrible mood and a crummy week fixed by a simple hula. Imagine if the whole world had a lu’au.

After Chicago

Here's one from freshman year in college. When I look at it now, there are a few things I would write differently. I decided to keep in it's original form. The assignment was to write a piece that relies heavily or is based primarily on dialogue. It doesn't really require an explanation or any background beyond that.

After Chicago
He broke the silence. “I’m going to the bar.”
“Please don’t start this again,” she said, raising two fingers to her right temple and began to vigorously massage the skin.
“I’m not starting anything.” His voice bellowed, penetrating the bedroom door.

A small girl sat alone on the stairs at the end of the poorly lit hallway, her warm palms pressed firmly on her ears.

“Why do you always do this?” the woman sighed, slowly shaking her head.
“What am I doing now, huh? There’s always something.”
“You just got back from Chicago. We haven’t seen you in a week and all you can think about it going to the bar.” She paused. “You and that damn bar.”
His jaw stiffened. “You’re right. I did just get back from a long trip. I want to relax and play some darts. Why are you always against me going out? Why can’t I enjoy life for once?”
“So your family isn’t enjoyable? You can’t relax at home? Why is nothing here good enough for you?” She glared at him. “Why do you even bother to come back at all!”

The girl squeezed her eyes shut. Her nose crinkled and her toes curled under the balls of her feet.

The man swung his arms backwards so that the side of his fist slammed into the bedroom door behind him. The doorknob rattled. “Why are you always so God damned difficult!”
“So wanting you home for more than five minutes a week is considered being ‘difficult’ now?” She crossed her arms staring into his eyes as she clenched her teeth.
“Since when is wanting to go out a crime?” he stiffly retorted.
“You’re so selfish.”
“And you’re a manipulative bitch,”
“Where is this coming from?” She took a deep breath through gaping lips and her brow furrowed slightly.
They stood for a moment in silence. A sliver of yellow light slipped through the closed blinds.

The girl let out a whimper as her tear fell to the plush blue carpet beneath her feet.

The woman sealed her eyes and as she faced downward towards her shoulder. “Look what you’ve done,” she whispered softly.
“I can’t deal with this.” He swung the door open and made his way down the hall. Each floorboard let out a small cry from underneath his weight. He walked passed the girl, grabbing a set of keys off a bronze hook in the kitchen then walked through the door. The garage door shook the floor of the bedroom in which the woman was still standing.
She walked down the hallway and cradled the sobbing child and walked into the family room. She sat down on a dark brown couch and kissed the girl’s forehead.
“Don’t cry, pumpkin. Shhh. Don’t cry.”
The woman’s eyes watered as she pressed her lip against the girl’s warm skin.