The Eyes of a Coffin

Angelica is her name, according to the cold, hard stone above. Her face suits the name, so pale and innocent, delicately painted with a faux shade of life. Her eyelashes stiffly coated in midnight black mascara-- waterproof, in case my hard exterior should give way and gofers get a gander at her. Her lips so plush in the seal of a timeless tint, never to be parted. Her made-up beauty daintily framed by wisps of caramel brown strands, strategically set in spray. Below her forever flower flavored neck, her body lay adorned in a powder blue dress, elegantly trimmed in ruffles. The hem of ruffles ends below her knees, pointing to the elevated cream pumps that will never be worn thin. The decor of her body is topped by crossed porcelain hands. Her angelic loveliness eternally wrapped in my embrace.

Accomplishment

Description of a feeling of true accomplishment:

My limbs began to go numb from the tips of my tingling fingers down to my pulsating feet. Blood beat intentionally through my every vein. My lungs pumped air rhythmically in and out, in and out. The numbness began to hit every muscle, every inch of my body, as my legs moved up, down, up, down and my arms swayed back, forth, back forth. I couldn't feel a thing; I should be keeling over, doubling in half like a magnet to the hard pavement, and yet I kept going. This must be what adrenaline is. The familiar sight of neighborhoods came into view as I approached the six mile mark. No, this must be what accomplishment is.

Presentation Day

Tale

Most students dread presentation days. It's an awkward day that everyone fears because, I mean really, who wants to stand in front a class that doesn't even care what you're saying unless you make an utter fool of yourself. Usually, I'm in that boat. I typically hate listening to droning presenters and despise getting unavoidably red-faced when it's my turn to speak. Today was different though. Today I was actually looking forward to my presentations in my English class. There's really only one reason a girl could ever want to give a presentation- a boy. Yes, that's right, I truly wanted, even got excited, to go suffer through 28 other presentations just so I could stare at Phillip Wilson for 30 solid seconds of girlish drooling. Not only did I want to gush over Phillip, but I also wanted his attention on me. I knew that for 30 seconds of my assigned poem presentation I would have his eyes on me. The teacher made a big stink about everyone paying attention to the speaker during his or her turn, so I knew Phillip had to lay his vivacious green eyes on me for at least 30 seconds. Normally I wouldn't want anyone to look at me while presenting, and I'd prefer for everyone to be texting incessantly while my nervous knees knocked shakily together, but today I wanted the attention. I had my poem memorized up and down, left to right, forwards and backwards. Plus, it didn't hurt that I was looking smoking hot. I'd planned my outfit two nights before and couldn't wait to rock my skinny jeans, flattering aquamarine flowy top, beige flats, and a delicately placed lucky bobby pin in my satin brown hair.

Drenched Giveaway

Descriptive Tale

As she stood in the doorway I watched my roommate with a skeptical edge. She smiled an all too cheery smile for how mopey she’d been lately. Her hair was a damp tangle of unintentional and less than fashionable waves, which was no doubt a result of the current downpour outside. Her clothes were more than soaked, too much so for the distance she would have walked from the car to the department store- her alleged destination. I suspected she’d changed her route while in transit. My suspicion was confirmed once I looked twice at her eyes. Despite the rest of her disheveled outfit her mascara was flawless. It was more prominent than it had been when she’d left the house. Every eyelash was coated in midnight black, not one touching another in the slightest. Beyond the frame of her delicately fanned lashes I could see a difference in her eyes. Her typically standard blue irises were transformed into the most magnificent shade of aquamarine with a hint of violet and undeniable specks of gold. This swirl of colors wrapped vivaciously around the black holes that represented her pupils. The combination of her unnaturally vibrant eyes, freshly applied mascara, and carelessly drenched ensemble could only mean one thing: my robot of a roommate finally shed her well-deserved tears.

Let's Get it Started

I used to think blogging was stupid.

Then I wrote a blog while studying abroad.

I finished studying abroad and stopped blogging.

Now I have the urge to blog again.

My plan at this point is to write whatever I determine noteworthy, whether it be a true anecdote from my day or a tall tale I decided to conjure up. For example, tonight I went on a walk, truthfully. I absolutely love walking/running at night. Sometimes, when the night is just right, I get an undeniable urge to sprint. Fighting my urge to sprint would be like fighting back the need to blink, I positively cannot pass it by. During my late night meandering tonight I got the compulsion to sprint it out like a gazelle. I don't actually know if gazelles are fast runners, but I think they're neat animals. I gave into my speedy desires and let my legs loose. I sprinted my cares away and got lost in the crisp night air whizzing past my satisfied body and smiling face. Right as my previously cold interior began to be warmed by my rapidly moving legs, I looked up and, to my horror, saw a fellow wanderer out yonder on my thought-to-be solitary route. My limbs stiffened up and stopped cold in their tracks. After realizing the other being on the streets was another human and not Sasquatch I began to make my feet move at an acceptable night-stroll pace. I continued onward home, with my head held slightly lower, and pretended that my zippy outburst was simply a figure of the stranger's imagination. And so my night walk concluded, as does my first blog entry.