DAY DREAMER

Meet Jenny. A young woman as diverse as the variations of her name, she is a complete natural in front of the camera. Without any effort she commands the fine line between girlish flirtation and sophisticated glamour. When things grow quiet, Jenny disappears into the realm of music, drinking in the rich vibrant tones and complex melodies of humanity’s composed history. She slips into an altogether different sort of alluring garment when nobody watches, an imagination tailored specifically to her person.

MAN IN SUIT

Meet Marc, a dedicated student who immerses himself in the deep tangled language of scholars who came before him. Pouring over the richness of raw texts and navigating the dark twisted maze of an ethical reasoning bound by unwavering code, he prepares for the intensive years of law school that are yet to come. However, when instances of solitude creep through a moment, he retreats to the quiet recesses of his mind, wondering how best to put his training to work in a world where so many need help. He dreams of discovering his purpose, the fight to which his heart will be drawn, the thing to which he will devote himself to entirely without hesitation or regret. But until that day arrives, until that inspirational force dawns, finds and consumes him from within, he waits for the next inevitable exam to break.

 

WHY WRITE

For the past hour, I have sat blinking irritably at a blank computer screen. It is almost as though a part of me thinks that if I just give just the right kind of dirty look to my two year old ACER laptop it will surge with a creative brilliance and solve my problem for me. My legs rest awkwardly across the smooth oak finish of an antique roll-top desk. The edge of the wood gouges into the backs of my calves as I try to summon the words I want from a keyboard riddled with cookie-crumbs and traces of a sticky substance, which I suspect to be peanut butter. All this aggravation over a single word — ‘why?’

“Why do I want to write?” In my experience words have more often deserted me than come when commanded, got me further into trouble instead out of it, and kept me perched at a desk rather than sprawled out on a couch, as is now the case.

So why would I want to pursue a path that relies foremostly upon words?  The more I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t honestly have a decent answer. I could say that I am a lover of words, which I am. I could say that I am a believer of dialogues, which I also am.  But the truth is I just like it.

Nothing gives me a greater thrill than penning a truly fantastic line. There is something about bringing forth an abstract idea and slamming into onto paper, only to have it lifted again by a reader, which is indescribable. I love trying to describe the indescribable and not only for the end result, but for the actual process. The nerve-wracking struggle for articulation is a never ending challenge and triumph like none other. Words are the key to unlocking whole new worlds. Words give causes a voice. Words are what inspire and comfort, exhilarate and empower, while forging a safe personal haven within our very own beings. Learning how to express oneself and the world around us for anybody to see and interact with is an amazing resource, because it allows for an endless potential. Where can you go with writing? — Wherever you allow the words to take you. Whatever your mind can fathom you can be a part of, and make others a part of too.

So there it is, my answer to ‘why write?’ Because I like writing, love it even and more than anything want to devote my life to weaving words into sentences and inspiring others to do the same. It is a simple answer, I know, and although perhaps not the stuff of great fiction, it is a raw undecorated truth.  And in an age bombarded by demands for reason and complicated logic, I am content with my answer.

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