Y A W P

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“You will never influence the world by trying to be like it”

I’ve been writing a lot of scholarship essays lately; 1000 word papers answering questions about my high school accomplishments (academically short and unimpressive), life roadmaps (planning my adulthood already?) and offering advice to other, younger students (it’s so much cooler to be a dork).

Gratefulness doesn’t cover how much I value the opportunity to apply for these grants; no matter how tedious or egotistical it feels to wrack them out, I really need the money for college.

But I can’t help banging my head on the table as I  write them- the idea of plotting out my life in black and white terrifies me.

Impress board members with perfect GPAs? List all the organizations I’ve been a part of like a dispassionate grocery list, thrown aside if I don’t meet their desired quantity? Frantically wave my arms for attention in the masses of impeccable students, eyes glazed over in a desensitized frenzy? Point me to the nearest plank so I can walk straight off, please.

There has to be more to life than a list of numbers that “define” my success; I refuse to tie myself down to test scores and class grades.

Where’s the fun in summiting a mountain without the challenge of a climb? What’s the point in being alive if you don’t get out and fight your way to do what brings you bliss, every day?  In the words of Walt Whitman, I’d rather get onto the rooftops and shout my “barbaric yawp” to the world than be shut into a desk all day.

I’d rather be courageous. Creative. Constantly in motion.

I’d rather throw commitments into the wind, cut myself off from a world of consumerism and competition. Live a life filled with adventure, meeting new people of unique and fearless character. Swap out the fancy blouses for a tee shirt, slip into a serenity filled with novels, blank notebook paper and an endless supply of colored sharpies. Surround myself in an abundance of spirit and knowledge rather than superficial greed.

Can that be written in an essay?  Is honesty, really, the best policy?

Or maybe I’ll just save that carpe-diem attitude for my novel.

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Tangled Bridge

window

Sunlight, pleasant and smooth on my cheek
A catastrophic symphony of freckles
Painted by golden rays in every crevice
Of my bare skin.

It was Summer
When long days grow longer
Filled, overflowing,
Spilling over the brim with
Sleep and
          Books and
                      Music and
                                  Dreams of
                                         {creating} Something more.

Young and foolish
We were waiting for fate to surprise us
To seep through the cracks of a foggy window
Like the seed of a strong, sturdy pine
Snatched up by a bird in mid flight.

Fearless in the face of infinity,
Calm in the brink of chaos,
A candle in the depths of the ocean,
Love wrapped in the wisps of her lips.

Fireflies glitter in the palm of moonlight
A grassy yard innocent beneath the shade
A storm cloud, black and heavy,
Threatening to lose its temper
Over our sleepless heads.

Catch me if you see me run
A tangled bridge over rough waters
Hold my hand as I leave
Watch me go even if I
F
        A
                  L
                             L.