"In the end, writing is like a prison, an island from which you will never be released but which is a kind of paradise: the solitude, the thoughts, the incredible joy of putting into words the essence of what you for the moment understand and with your whole heart want to believe." -Jim Pollock

Story Crafting

(I wrote all of this down on paper first. I know much has been said about how my generation is depressed because they only see the perfectly crafted social media stories of their friends, while at the same time they are crafting their own. We are all creating how we want to be perceived. I'm not saying I'm going to stop using social media all together either. I know this isn't groundbreaking. I just want to share my slow realization of this being an issue for me.)


Just taking a moment. Taking a moment to be. To exist. My negativity often lents me to disregard moments like this. To stop trying to be so deep and move on with my day. But...

I sat with the tv off and no music playing; a rarity at my place. I picked up a book and got one page in before I found myself doubling back, realizing I hadn't comprehended a single word. The silence in the room was overwhelming.

I set the book down and picked up my tea. I look at it, smelled it, thought about it. I drink tea because I feel like I should be the sort of person that enjoys tea. My friends drink tea. The cup was almost too hot but I let myself feel the heat.

I decided I actually like tea.

I listened to the sounds in the silence. The hums of the fan and the refrigerator. The creak of the wood floor as the radiator comes to life, a ritual between two objects that has played out for the last hundred years of this building's life.

I often miss things like this.

I am constantly consuming stories; in movies, tv shows, music, just about anywhere I can. While this is happening I am constantly trying to craft stories. Not well thought out and complete stories but bits and pieces of unfinished product. These bits and pieces to try to convey who I am to my family and friends and also to myself. Stories of who I think I should be rather than who I am. Carefully framed Instagrams and witty Tweets. Quick spurts of information with no time given for reflection.

I need to take time to simply experience. To not be thinking about how I can't wait to share a story and see which of my friends "likes" it.

I made myself write this on paper first. So easily this thought could fall away with the opening of a laptop. Suddenly my priorities would switch to Amazon and finding things that I think will define me. Things that will make my life, and who I am, more defined.

So no, for this first draft I wrote on paper. My sloppy cursive being smeared by my left hand as I drag it over fresh ink, moving on to the next line. My thumb getting sore after these few lines, a combination of lack of practice and my habit of pressing the pen like I'm trying to carve stone.

I need to allow myself time to reflect. I think we all do. I need to give myself time to sit still and just process. To experience who I am without trying to use to cheap tricks of consuming and sharing.

Here's hoping. Here's to reflecting. Here's to experiencing.

The Quiet Front Yard

Since last posting I have returned to Iowa, found my own apartment, and taken up a job in insurance.

I have stumbled upon the quiet front yard. That peace and stillness that we are all supposed to be striving for.

Yet it has left me unsettled.

I am unsettled by how quickly I snapped back into my consumer therapy self, something I thought I had left behind in college.

With my dad gone I thought I wanted stability. But I want something that takes me to the next level. In my career, my habits, my life. I know that I need to keep getting out there and collecting stories. Meeting people. I don’t know if I will end up doing that as a journalist or as a social worker but either way I need to keep being engaged with unique people.

In social work you get jaded by the fact that every single day you meet real life heroes. Tireless social workers who give everything they have day in and day out and homeless drug addicts who are learning how to save their friends from overdosing.

I miss that.

Social work isn’t all butterflies and rainbows. It can have some pretty terrible moments.

But it’s helping people. The very essence of humanity.

Journalism wasn’t my major in college but I’ve learned from my dad to see everything as a potential story. That eye for shining light on the seemingly mundane and seeing complexity, that is something I want to further develop.

I’m not sure what my next step is, though I do know that I am committed to staying in Des Moines and being a part of what is happening here. I want to keep discovering what this city has to offer. Like I said, an eye for getting past the seemingly mundane and seeing more.

(I didn’t edit or smooth this out. I’m sure it shows. I just wanted to get something out on my blog again. Perhaps this will help get the creative juices flowing. So, basically, hopefully this isn’t a crippling blow to any future career in journalism.)