The very first job I ever had was something I built for myself back in elementary school. I confess that It’s not something I can ever put on my resume. In fact, I was actually threatened with arrest at one point during the height of my business success.
The tail-end of my elementary school years changed my entire life for the better. This was around the time when I decided I would try writing more and that I would pursue a career in the arts. I picked up the pen, went through dozens of sketchbooks, notepads, journals, and paper that I stole out of the large recycling bin on campus, and started writing and drawing. This was also the time that my crazy ideas began to have more of an impact on the lives of me and everyone around me.
The first 10 notes of Beethoven’s Fur Elise rang from my phone notifying me that I had received a text message. I unlocked the iPhone that had been decorated with a brand new navy blue and rose-gold case and read the message to myself.
“Jas!” I could feel the shock and excitement emanating out from behind the words that I was reading. “Catching up on some of your blog posts and ‘A Collection of Memories’ had completely inspired and touched me!”
I don’t think that I was able to wrap my head around what she was trying to tell me. Clearly my friend wasn’t referring to any of the posts on my blog. However, I responded with appreciation for the kind words. Continue reading “Who Still Blogs Anyway?”→
Rubber soles pounded the warm asphalt creating a steady, but rhythmic, slow-tempo drum beat. They had carried my legs with ease for nine miles on the winding streets of Eugene, Oregon before I felt the slowly creeping soreness of a run that was lasting too damn long spread through my overworked leg muscles. I did my best to breathe in the cool and refreshing air that had been warmed a little more by the bright sun since the start of the race over an hour before. I had enjoyed the run, glancing over at the tall green trees that proudly stood as they decorated the Northwestern track town, for two more miles before thoughts of confusion snuck into my mind.
Why the heck did we pay to do this to ourselves? I thought as I continued to place one increasingly heavy foot in front of the other. Everyone here is absolutely nuts.
The bottom of my feet grew warmer as they hit the pavement which lied next to the sandy beach. The ocean breeze hit my sweaty face as I threw one leg in front of the other. I could feel the muscles in my thighs and calves move and tighten, and as I passed the halfway point of my first 10K race, I looked over to my race partner quietly huffing and wiping sweat from his brow.
My boyfriend smiled, “We’re almost there! We can do it! We’re going to make it!”
I shot him a glance in my exhausted state. “I’m going to finish, but we’ll see about running the whole way to the finish line.” Continue reading “The 10K”→
Somewhere in the middle of splashing in a puddle of my own sweat, I felt a chilling sense of regret creep up into the back of my mind.“Why the hell am I running so damn far?” I thought to myself as I continued to swiftly place one foot in front of the other. The masochistic form of transportation by my own legs seemed ridiculous when I really thought about it for too long, but I continued to keep on going anyway.
I tried to stifle a yawn as I moseyed over with the travel cup, that I brought from home, in-hand to the Keurig to make a cup of piping hot coffee. My short journey from my new desk to the tepid machine, who decided on its own who and at what time they would get their morning pick-me-up, became my mini-break among the busyness of event planning and building social media content online.
I ended up running into another co-worker by the Keurig in the kitchenette who was warming up a leftover snack in the microwave, which always strongly smelled like the thing the last person who used it put in to it. I greeted her with a familiar grin since she had sat right across from my desk when I was an intern on the other side of the office. Continue reading “The Adult At The Keurig”→
The last five days before my best friend and I started new full-time jobs, and receiving talks about promotions, were the days we used to travel up and then back down along America’s west coast. We took to the highways, side roads, and freeways like a drop of water takes shape in a rushing stream. It was as if we forgot the world where we both had to go to our jobs, water our plants, and take out the trash, and lived, for a moment, as traveling gypsies hugging the beautiful Pacific Ocean.
We never used to be able to fully explain how the idea for a road trip to Oregon came about. When asked by a new friend why we would want to travel there, all we could muster at the moment was, “because it’s just there,” even though we knew it wasn’t quite true.
It had all started one day after I sat down for a meal in my home. That day, I had a rather large helping of crisp salad, which still had the dew from the fresh water that had washed over the leaves. I had scurried off to bed after becoming uncharacteristically exhausted and quickly closed my eyes in search for rest.
The next day I noticed a very strange feeling in my body. I had opened my eyes and looked down in confusion of what I had witnessed next. The body that I had woken up in vaguely appeared to be the one that I had before I went to bed the previous day, and what I had lived in since my birth. Continue reading “Writing Prompt: The Change”→
The sound of knocking came from behind my best friend’s front door about an hour after we had come home from her birthday party. Her two dogs both ran to the door while eagerly wagging their tails and letting their mouths hang open in a way that mimicked an excited-looking smile, which let my friend and I know that there was a friend on the other side of the tall old decorative wooden ent
rance. I swiftly got up to place myself in front of my friend’s larger dog so I could open the door, but the short-haired copper-colored hound mix beat me to the front as I reached for the door’s elegant handle.
“Copper! Get down!” I tried pulling back the large dog as much as I could without harming him. “No!”
I opened the black screen door that revealed a young tall blonde man with a nice dark-colored plaid shirt tucked into a pair of thick denim jeans. He wore clean black work boots that many of the countrymen wore around the small town and gently raised his hand out from the warm summer country night air and into the slightly cooler home to pet the enthusiastic dog.