Writing for fun

To write. What a hard task when you are uninspired. I was talking with my mother today and she told me to write her an email. That made me realize I should write more. It’s not that I think that I am imparting great knowledge from above unto your insipid brains. This exercise is actually for me, and you get to tag along. Today I took a walk. It was evening and the partially visible sun was nearing the horizon. There were splotches of blue escaping from the dull strangling clouds. It was slightly cold and there was a chill wind that made my ears complain. The neighborhood I walked through had many trees and some grass that was defying the death of winter. I realized that no matter what we do, the sun is there, whether we see it or not. This made me want to write a poem. “I love you like the sun rises. You may not see it, but even behind all those imposing clouds and storms of trouble, it is always there.”

 I suddenly realized I had not been paying attention to the path I was traveling, but that was fine. I took the road less traveled by accident; but I took it, so it still counts. I wasn't worried either; the worst that can happen in Moscow when you get lost is that you find yourself in the outskirts of the town. All you have to do is turn around.

This past week was hard but memorable and epic. Then there was the Ash Wednesday service at Trinity. I felt convicted by the line that went something like, ‘we confess the impatience of our lives.’ I realized how restless I had become; I had started to look down on school and wanted to start doing other things, like preparing for the future. I wanted to already graduate. I know I must prepare, but this goes hand in hand with school. I must be faithful in the little things, like music worksheet handouts.

Three more weeks until Spring Break; It seems so close but unattainable. There is final’s week to get through, and papers to write; but the hope is defiantly making its presence known, like the sky. In a declamation I jokingly used the metaphor, “It was like the dream I never had, which, by the way, was blue.” Maybe these words were prophetic. The future is a dream that keeps changing never becoming truly what we expected to be. But there it is looming promising something better, or at least, different.