A Vast Glowing Empty Page

Am I doing this right?

44 Words on Home (pt. 2 – Notre Dame)

Another late night. But 2 a.m. isn’t as late as it used to be. Somebody’s still up, though. Somebody always is. They’ll be there tomorrow, too, when it’s time for brunch. We’ll tell stories, and laugh. Later on, we’ll leave. But we’ll always come back.

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44 Words on Home (pt. 1 – Chicago)

A preface: These next few posts are ones that I will probably, eventually try to combine into one. They’re all about home, but about different place I call home. I have this possibly naive belief that I can go anywhere on this earth and leave calling it home. So far, I haven’t experienced anything that leads me to believe otherwise. So until I do, I’ll keep on believing that I have not one home, but many places to which I can always return, and always be welcomed home. 

I hadn’t had much sleep, nor had I been eating well. Midterms just ended, and it was getting cold. We ordered a pizza, and I took another nap before going out — with the same people, to the same places. Nobody thought anything of it.

44 Words on Being Alone

It’s nice to be left alone, until it’s not anymore. Thoughts and walks and naps and books are fine, but we are social animals. Interaction needn’t be loud or long or even verbal. Just another warm body, close by, confirming my existence, smiling occasionally.

44 Words on Summer

Feet bare, bottoms blackened, and sweat and sunscreen a second layer of skin. Lazy, lingering days and long, cool nights. In the beginning, all but endless, and in the end, still invincible. There’s a certain childlike hope that things will be like this forever.

44 words on vulnerability

“I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything I wanted.” The name of the blog, borrowed from Kerouac. It’s supposed to be some metaphor for my life. Pure potential, a bright future. That’s really fucking scary.

44 words on comfort

I’m five years old, and it’s the snowiest day of winter. As the sun fades with a pinkish glow, Mom calls me in for a bath. After, she swaddles me in a towel, leaving only my smiling eyes to peek through. Everything is okay.

44 words on curiosity

It killed the cat, then crashed into Mars. But before that, it led us out of the cave and over the hill and towards the fire. It’s the reason we ask why and how and when and where. But it leaves us too young.