Saving Private Ryan and Coney Island

The beginning of last week was really not great. I was feeling really terrible and had to miss two days of work. My responses to the sickness were the following: 

1) Watching Saving Private Ryan in hopes of letting my body know that it could be in worse situations. You know, like being on the shores of Omaha Beach on D-Day. 

2) Napping like Michelle (she's the nap queen)

3) Talking to myself. Because why not. I'm great company.

4) Drinking these beverages: my sweet roommate made me Lipton iced tea, the iced black tea that I had made the previous day, and of course, my Nalgene bottle full of water miracle liquid.

I did manage to make it to the last day of training after two days of not moving much from my bed. Work was at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn this past week and the campus is beautiful. There are these statues on every green area and this one of a smashed piano was my favorite. I think it made me realize that my favorite images have a simultaneous brokenness and beauty to them. The fragility in something that is supposed to be rather sturdy is comforting in a way. 

On the weekend, Mj and I went to Coney Island!!

Because duh, I'm spending the summer in NYC and where else am I going to spend seven dollars on a ferris wheel ride and gawk at the nine dollar price tag on the deathly, wooden, yet still alluring roller coaster ride?

We had Grimaldi's for lunch. Yuum. 

We went on the Wonder Wheel.

Swinging > Stationary
But swinging isn't really conducive to taking photos...

...unless those photos are selfies.
Selfies: they're possible in any condition if you try hard enough.
Thunderstorm? Swinging many feet above ground? No problem.

I went a little crazy with the photo editing. But doesn't this look like it could be a postcard?

After we were done with Coney Island, Mj wanted to meet her friend, who was conveniently at a church near the boardwalk. We got as far as the vestibule between the front door and the place of worship. We said hi to her friend. The reverend/pastor thought we were attending service and kindly, but in slight distress, explained to us that we had to take off our shoes. Then, as he looked at our outfits, asked us, in a slightly more distressed tone,  if we had anything to cover ourselves... After explaining we just wanted to say hi to someone, we apologized for being underdressed for church and left. And that was how we almost accidentally attended the church near Coney Island... and probably embarrassed Mj's friend as well.

Daytime shenanigans over, onto nighttime shenanigans:

Brooklyn apartment with christmas lights and a view of Manhattan <3
Mj's friend had a housewarming party and the apartment was amazing.

Mj killing it at this warehouse where musicians were jamming and creativity was everywhere.
I played the drums for the first time, and now this girl thinks she, Mj and I are in a band together, haha.
But damn, the environment was inspiring. 

~~~~~

Prepare yourself for a rant that's mostly just for my purposes.

So I suck at posting regularly. I really do. I'm trying though. Diana signs me into Columbia's library and I work a lot better there. I hate how easily I forget to make the effort. I forget that even blog writing about the silly happenings in my life is therapeutic. Sometimes I go so long without creatively writing a single thing and there really is no excuse. It used to be such an essential part of my life. I really miss it. It's been a crazy year but that should be more reason to write (say writing one more time Dora, you haven't said it enough). I don't know who I'm trying to convince but this blog is one of my more persistent efforts to keep it in my life.

When I was a kid, I used to write stanzas, poems and songs that were drowning in metaphors and similes. I loved the mystery and ambiguity of it all—most of the time, I didn't even know what I was talking about with all the figurative speech. I loved making strange phrases, contradicting comparisons and stitching together words that had no business being stitched together. I didn't care that they made no sense. I didn't care that it wasn't organized with a beginning, middle and end. Works that were too neatly tied, knotted and too decided in its purpose made me suspicious.

I think part of me remembers how all of this made me feel and I still get floods of the satisfaction when I give creative, personal writing the time. But as I've gotten older, other things have started to take priority and I half-heartedly hate that I don't despise those things for replacing writing. Because getting settled in my freshman year of college on a different coast, being inspired by my classes and meeting amazing people wasn't a waste of time. Because declaring my concentrations sophomore year, applying for study abroad and loving my extracurricular activities to death made me learn a little more about myself every day. Because watching a ridiculous amount of TV shows/movies... well that one is my bad and I should really fix that. Excuses excuses I know, but I think it again goes back to effort. I just need to make it a point to allocate time to writing on this blog, writing songs and even writing this screenplay that I started but never looked at. Maybe now that I've written this goal down, it'll be more real.

Soo, see ya next Sunday, when I'm going to start posting regularly! xx

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"so let's play 'til the day

burns the skin on our backs

and we've left all we can to the nights"
- Cards