phone

You always showed me how to be bold. You always made it okay for me to explore. You made it important for me to laugh. You always encouraged my art, and anything else I did. You saw how important that stuff was to me. I do. You always supported me. You're one of my best friends.

"Meriam hey."
"Hey Sherief. How are you?"
"I'm good I'm good. How are you?"
"I'm well."
"Yeah how was your weekend?"
"Good."
"Listen Meriam can I call you back? I have some friends over." I can feel skin around my eyes wrinkle, where my smile makes them.
"Too popular for your own good already huh?" We laugh.
"No no" I can hear it in your voice that you want to make sure I'm not feeling hurt, and that I didn't feel neglected.
"Ok I'll talk to you later."
"Bye."

I've never been so happy for you than after that phone call. Out in the world, exploring what you love, making the very best of everything that you can. And being happy all the while.

I'm really just so happy for you. And I deeply hope you're okay. Not happy, but okay, meaning I hope you're finding something, and I hope if you're not happy, that you'll get yourself there.

I miss you, but I know you're still ours. And I am glad you're doing what you are. You saw an opportunity, and you took it. You showed us all it's okay to be a tiny bit selfish in your youth, if you think it will benefit you in the long run. There are certain things that don't come around twice.

I hope your new job is fulfilling.
I hope you find a path. No. I hope you make a path.

"No one should ever feel bad doing what they think is best for them." That's what you taught me.

posting

After some consideration, I decided to edit/post some of my old writing. I'm really glad that I did what I did (documented) because there are certain memories, smells, and dreams that I might have lost otherwise. Normally, I wouldn't post anything this personal. There are a lot of things I am hesitant to show to colleges about myself. Or to anyone really. But here's the rationalization: if I don't show myself to colleges, they won't see little anecdotes and idiosyncrasies. They won't know what they're looking over--er, I mean who they're looking over.

If I don't show them what I've got, what chance do I have of being where I want to? I think that's why I'm struggling over the essays. I feel very--on stage.

What's difficult for me is this: it's not about selling myself, it's about showing myself.

It's true, I originally had no intent of publishing these exact works. But now that I will, I think it's good practice for my future. That vulnerability in letting the world see what you've made. No wonder Emily Dickinson was a recluse.

can't reach the wheel

It occurs to me, as we j-walk across the street, at the inconvenience of a little old lady driving a very big Mercedes, that every choice is mine, ultimately. The choices that scare me so much--where am i going? what will i do? how will i survive? The answers to those questions, will eventually be left to me and for some reason that's empowering.

For most people, it's that that's overwhelming. For me, I feel happy that eventually, I can do what I love. I know that scares my parents a little bit, but that's my job isn't it? There are a lot of things I learn from my parents, but their extreme caution toward life is not one that I want to let leak into my consciousness this early in life. It sounds very "Lifetime Original movie" but because of the people who actually believe that I have what it takes to make what I really want happen, I have a certain conviction that I will do what I love in the end. In the next four years, I will study what I am drawn to. When I get out in the real world, I will make that step. It isn't very useful to lean too far forward. If I think for now, and work at what I love to make sure I'm prepared for whatever path I decide to take, I know I will eventually find a place for my passions in the world. I won't be anything because anyone wants me to, or because of the money. I will do what I love. And I will never look back.

I don't think I can creatively afford to hold anything in and assume the predictable, beaten path.
I don't think I have that in me.
I don't think I want that.

rolled up sleeves

My publishing teacher is so incredibly enthusiastic about what he does. It's really beautiful. He loves everything about print; he is always carrying at least one sharpie. Even for the people who aren't that into what he's teaching, they can't help but pay attention because of the sheer joy the process gives him. It really is inspiring to see a man that awed with something, willing to dedicate his life to it, with little regard for monetary gains. He talks loudly, his chuckle--goofy and unforgettable. Down to the very detail, he loves it---all of it. Even rolling up sleeves versus folding them up is down to a science, carefully advising us to fold them patiently so they don't slide down while we work. Patience is very important here.

"I love the smell of ink in the morning. Smells like victory." His smile, infectious.

If I can get by money-wise, and I can be successful in that I study and pursue my dreams, there can't be any room for regret. It might be a little more scary, but I'll only work hard for what I love---nothing else.

stage fright

If you're reading this, may I ask why?
Is it possible that any configuration of letters, of typeface, if arranged correctly, could have an sort of impact on you? Is that what you're reading this for? you want these forms, these symbols to affect you?

I hate to break the news to you, but everything has an effect on you. No matter what you do, you're part of it all. You're a part of everything you ever hated and ever loved. Every post-it, every insult, every piece of artwork that you scoffed at, you're part of it. It must be frustrating, being you, hearing this news. I'm sure when you came here, you clicked your way on over to this fine figurative land, you were expecting something to brighten your day or make you feel something. Well I never promised that now did I?

You came here, without wiping your shoes on my welcome mat I might add, and thought it would be different. You thought I could offer you something that I don't ever want to offer you. This isn't the place for vague definitions of what a sister is, this isn't the place where you'll stock up on anything. Nope.

This is the place where I promise, you'll get lost & stay lost.