Aspiringwriter's Blog

aspiringwriter — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 09:37:48 +0000

I always remember being told to choose the right path in life. But what exactly is the right path? Somehow I feel like this concept was derived by our parents in the hopes that we will make wise decisions. It’s their way of telling us to “stay in school,” without actually saying the words. Of course they still told us anyway.

But how do you know whether to turn North, South, East or West? I suppose it’s all a gamble. Have to place your bet somewhere, and see where it gets you.

Lessons My Grandfather Taught Me

aspiringwriter — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 09:03:42 +0000

“Behind the jungle trees and bushes stood a man silently waiting and watching. The humidity of the Papua, New Guinea, air formed sweat beads across his forehead, but Otto did not wipe them for free of making a sound. If the enemy heard movement, they would surely shoot to kill.”

Or at least that’s how I imagine it.

My grandfather was a member of the 112th Cavalry Regimental Combat team during WWII as a Staff Sergeant and squad leader. He left the war wounded… receiving a Purple Heart (and Oak Leaf Cluster). Growing up, I thought that was what made my grandpa “cool.” I remember seeing the pictures of him in uniform, along with his medals. Wow, he was pretty amazing…

But it wasn’t his war days that gave me insight into this great man… it was in his everyday battles that I learned the most. I was too young to remember (perhaps not even born yet), but Grandpa had been battling cancer for as long as I had been alive. Most of the time he seemed to be fine. Then there were the times he’d have to go to the doctor and became increasingly ill. I now understand that to be chemo or radiation. As a little girl, those words are meaningless. What I could see was the fatigue on his face..

But when he sat me in his lap saying “I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck…” I felt the love of the entire world in his hug. Any illness was erased. When he grabbed his silver radio and swung me around to dance to his favorite polka, I could see youth radiate onto his face through his smile. That was the grandpa I adored.

I could always count on him to be present. Grandpa was the man I wished my father could have been. It was because of him I learned the importance of family and valuing your roots. Not only could he speak English but he could speak Czech as well. That was our heritage and he never let anyone forget it.

He taught me to smile through the pain, to turn tears into triumph. Life is a war… and if he could make it through one, why can’t I?

aspiringwriter — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 07:54:59 +0000

As much as I talk about going out and starting a new adventure, I find it difficult to start something new.

I’ve sat here and pondered why that is for endless hours and the only conclusion I can draw, is that I am afraid. I still have this innate desire to be perfect. Not that perfection even exists, but what if it did? Then I would want to be just that. But even then, would I be happy? It would be an endless cycle of ensuring that my I’s are dotted and my T’s are crossed. Frankly, I don’t think I can withstand all that pressure.

Speaking of pressure…. I put a great deal of it upon myself. I know I am a person with many gifts, yet I find it difficult to cultivate those talents. Ideas flood my head, but I can’t find the focus to manifest those concepts into substantial works. For once I want words to have depth, to have a greater meaning than what is merely printed on a page. What I’d love even more is to have my words actually printed on a page…

I suppose that means I actually have to write something huh? So when someone asks me “what are you writing?”… That tells me they want to know what I’m currently working on. I really would hate to tell them nothing.

aspiringwriter — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 10:58:17 +0000

Have you ever laid awake at night wishing you were doing more? More… of what your heart desires. More… of fulfilling your hopes and dreams. More…of satisfying your inner child.

Remember being a child and having fantasies of what “adulthood” would bring? Being an adult meant not only would bedtimes be a distant memory, but we could “be anything we put our minds to.” It’s ironic that when we were children, we went to bed at a certain time because our parents told us to. Now we go to bed at a certain time because we have real-life obligations.

But as we’ve grown up… have we lost our childhood qualities? Have we lost our ability to dream? So many people get caught in the complacency of routine and fail to realize their full potentials. We get stuck with “what we know” instead of “what we want.” But why? Are we that terrified of the unknown? Too old to take a risk?

I think it’s about time we all start a new adventure…

Food for Thought

aspiringwriter — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 10:16:37 +0000

Often times we consume ourselves with our past. It engulfs us, sometimes haunts us. We thrive on the belief that mistakes can be fixed; that whatever went wrong can be changed. In our desire to alter the pain within our hearts, we fail to realize the abundance of greatness that surrounds.

When was the last time you stopped to smell the roses?

Focusing on the negativity of life will never transform anyone into a strong individual. It weakens the soul, and dulls the mind. Transform the negative into positive. Instead of being a “statistic,” make yourself a success story.

Bucket List

aspiringwriter — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 02:01:06 +0000

I want to travel America in a purple bus named Penepole.

The Buried Life on MTV showcases the journey of four friends across America in a purple transit named Penelope. The purpose? They’re documenting the completetion of a list- “100 Things to Do Before You Die.” Essentially, it’s their version of “The Bucket List.” On each task they try to help others achieve their dreams. Ben, Jonnie, Duncan and Dave (and I) want to know. . .

What do you want to do before you die?

Here’s my bucket list (shortned version):

Write a book
Learn to speak Czech
Be a movie extra
Go skinny dipping
Backpack through Europe
Skydive
Recite a poem in public
Crash a wedding
Swim with dolphins
Complete a marathon
Open a women & children’s shelter
Meet Maya Angelou
Learn to play the piano
Publish a story in a magazine
Go on a cruise
Learn to fly a plane
Learn to cook every recipe in a cookbook
Make amends with my father
Join a book club
Learn to surf
See the Great Pyramids
Save someone’s life
Become a vegetarian
Solve a Rubik’s cube
Attend the All-Star game
Sneak backstage at a concert
Go for a hot air balloon ride
Take pictures from the top of the Empire State Building
See the Eiffel Tower at night
Donate my salary to charity
Visit all 50 states and 7 continents
Live in a foreign country
Relearn how to play chess
Make a quilt
Realize that I am stronger than I give myself credit
Finish my education
Learn to forgive
Attend a Broadway play
Go scuba diving
Volunteer in Africa
Teach English in a foreign country
Stand at the North or South Pole
See the 7 Wonders of the World
Get beads at Mardi Gras
Adopt a child
Visit all the top art museums around the world
See the Sistine Chapel
Find my happiness
Find inner peace
Have no regrets

A True Inspiration

aspiringwriter — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 16:46:54 +0000

Do you have someone who inspires you, that drives you to be better than yourself? Not necessarily better, but to be the best self you can be?

I have a handful of friends that tell me I should be a writer, but only a couple actually inspire me to do so. One in particular is the buzzing in my ear. It is actually he that inspires me. It is his drive and zest for life that makes me envious and want to reach his potential. Through his adventures I gain a greater knowledge of myself. How? I understand what I want for my own life.

It has taken me five years to understand this man who I have the pleasure of calling my inspiration and my friend. Though he has been an elusive figure in my life over that time period, and I may not have an accurate portrayal of who he is; my inspiration is more than a mirage.

Simply by listening to his words has been true guidance. Wisdom has been bestowed upon me with or without his direct knowledge. I’ve learned to be comfortable in my own skin, and find my voice- as a writer. Times when I was vulnerable, I allowed him to read my writing and feel like I was “good enough.” Because of his friendship, I found the courage to call myself a writer.

It’s friendships like ours that I’ll treasure for a lifetime. Whether we go days, weeks, or years without speaking, we’ll continue to have a close bond. I don’t have to see him in order to feel his presence or inspiration. I continue to learn lessons and hear his wisdom miles away.

Thank you.

Unbreakable

aspiringwriter — Thu, 21 Oct 2010 14:12:52 +0000

Bruised but not broken

tattern but not torn

aged but not old

she sits quietly observing

far wiser than her years

pain in her heart but her eyes full of hope

the world has been cruel

dealing a bad hand

but she played it well

yet she never complains

bruised but not broken

tattered but not torn

aged but not old

for it has given her a story to be told.

Fourteen Year Anniversary

aspiringwriter — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 16:55:33 +0000

Rain filled clouds engulfed the sky. The grayness was the same shade as my heart that day. Little droplets fell upon my face masking my tears, washing away the salty evidence of sadness.

I tugged at the pale mint green dress my mother insisted I wear. The fabric was a thick scratchy wool and the tag irritated my neck. Before we had left the house I begged my mother to cut the tag off, but she had ignored my pleas. The tag, however, was a minor annoyance compared to the bombarding of strangers offering empty condolences.

As I reluctantly entered the brick church, I raised my head to the sky asking God, “Why?” My head was full of confusion already that day. So many unanswered questions, yet there was no one to ask. My eyes took in the awaiting sight as I slowly walked inside. Hundreds of people were staring at me sympathetically as I entered. There was an abundance of spectators, and not enough seats. I held my breath, feeling suffocated by the overwhelming presence of people. Many whispered as my family and I walked past to the front pews. Did all of these people know Bryan, or did they know what they read in the paper?

Taking our seats, I was angry to be there. My father clutched my hand for strength to make it through the service. He held it so tightly the color began to fade from my fingers. The pain that should have resonated in my head never registered. I was numb.

As his friends spoke, I became increasingly jealous. I wanted to be in their shoes able to share funny stories. The green-eyed monster was much darker than the shade of my dress. I felt as though I missed out on a close relationship with Bryan because I was still young. In that moment, I closed my eyes and I willed him alive. When I opened them all I saw was the closed casket in front of me. Tears trickled down my face. My cousin and additional older brother was gone, and for what?

The facts of his death were questions that lingered in my mind. I remember waking up early on a Sunday morning, earlier than usual. My father was coming over to give my brother and I some news. In the pit of my stomach, there was a queasy feeling. These were unusual circumstances, the news wouldn’t be good. We were told Bryan had died in an accident. My world came crashing down. When you’re ten, death is not a viable concept. I asked: How? Why? When? In the preceding days my family “sugar-coated” the events, but the news wasn’t so generous with the portrayal. The media didn’t censor the truth- “17 Year Old Killed While Drinking and Driving.”

As I sat in church the day of his service I was angry. My head still filled with endless questions. I had asked God “Why,” because I couldn’t comprehend why it had been his plan. Yet, there were questions that couldn’t be answered because my cousin was dead.

Sitting here fourteen years later, I’m no longer angry. I miss my second older brother and the future he would have had. But living in, “what if’s” won’t get you through tomorrow if you can’t make it past yesterday.

Are You There God? It’s Me Sarah.

aspiringwriter — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 02:00:21 +0000

My favorite question to ask in the entire world is- why. . . ? Nothing fancy, clear-cut and simple. I may already know the answer, but I’ll still ask anyway. It drives people crazy. Part of me feels the tinge of guilt, but inside I smile deviously at my personal success. On the otherhand, there are times there are unknowns. Though I may be the smartest woman alive at times (I have the printed certificate hanging in my room to prove this fact and I cannot confirm or deny that I made it myself), I can’t possibly know everything. So where do I turn for my answers?

Instead of annoying family and friends with my abundance of why questions, I first do research. Want to know the definition to a word? Dictionary. Important dates? Encyclopedia. But what about matters of the… dare I say it, heart? Sigh. All the textbooks and self-help books that money can buy can’t answer certain why questions. So…. ::Looking around the room:: “Are you there God?”

To me God is a strong presence I’ve had in my life- an invisible friend, if you will. When I need the tough questions answered, he is who I turn to. How do you turn to your aunt that lost her last remaining son, why did my cousin die? You don’t. When your parents are in the midst of an abusive argument, do you turn to them and ask- why are you fighting? Probably not. God is a comforter, protector, healer, and guide. At least he has been for me.

So when I need those questions answered, or even need to ask why me? I feel that someone is always listening, even if I end up answering things for myself. Believing in something larger than yourself is a powerful concept. Allowing myself to have faith has made me a stronger individual, and it has enabled me to realize that I don’t have to take on the burdens of the world. I am one individual, not an army.