Causal Update

In May I finished my first full year of college, which was exciting yet stressful. The past year has brought so many trials, but so many great memories. However, I am happy that it is finally summer. 

This past month, I have been working towards bettering myself, while helping others. I officially joined the Speakers of Love Movement, which is all about empowering everyone to spread more love than hate. 

In the following months, I will be heading into a more independent stage of my life. In hopes of getting my own apartment, and finding a better (higher) paying job. 

As for writing, most of my time has gone into a short story about a college student who finds himself stuck in between Hell and Earth, and the only way to have his soul fully on Earth is to prove to the Devil that he deserves to be there. So far I am seven pages in, and not even to the climax of the story. 

On top of that, I am trying to work towards getting published for poetry (again). My goal is to have a short book full of poems about life and growing. We will see how that goes, I have finish my short story first. (If there are poems on the blog that you have liked prior let me know so I can edit and take inspiration from them). 

Overall, I am still writing and very much aware of the blog I promised to write on. When I get closer to the finishing of my short story, I will be able to start fully writing again on the blog.  
-SB

Advertisements

Wanderlust

img_0449-1Wanderlust is a German word that means ‘the need and want to travel’ from a young age I always enjoyed going to different and new places. I would always keep a track record of where I was going, what my surrounding looked like and even small details about how long I’ve been in the car. Some of those ‘entries’ if you go back far enough, are right on this blog. I knew, after I had gotten my Anchor, which is located on my right wrist, I wanted my second tattoo to be special and meaningful.

Originally I was just going to get a compass, and that soon became the words Wanderlust, and then when I started talking to my designer (Ryan), I realized I just wanted everything that had to do with traveling on my body. We had been talking for about a week about what I wanted and the price range, three days prior to getting the tattoo I had five different images on my cell phone, and a roughimg_0450-1 draft that my friend had drawn for me.

It took about thirty minutes to get a final design, which included the compass, my cursive handwriting, that we scattered on the computer, and the atlas. It was important that I was hands on with this tattoo, since my last tattoo was a spree of the moment kind of thing. When everything was printed off and laid out in front of me, I made sure I got every position right. Most artists don’t let you trace the tattoo, but prior to it being a tattoo Ryan let me trace North America.

My wanderlust tattoo took a total of three months to complete. I had a total of three sessions, and seven hours. I haven’t even gone back for my retouch. The first session was three hours long and everything in black (Wanderlust and the compass) was completed. The second session was completing Russia, Africa, Europe and Australia; that was about two and a half hours long. My last session was North and South America, and that was two and a half hours as well. Originally we weren’t going to do watercolor, but after we completed Wanderlust I decided that that’s something I wanted to do. Watercolor is extremely painful, The first round only started to hurt two hours into getting it done. Watercolor just hurts in general.

The word wanderlust is something that is special to me, because I love adventures. I love the idea of being an adventure, and being slightly impulsive and wild. When I go some place I want to experience and live in that environment. When people travel they typically have one memory in mind that they want to keep. With me every detail and moment counts. It’s something special and nobody can take that feeling away from me. When designing the tattoo, I knew that I wanted something that felt authentic and real.

Originally the design was supposed to be on the left side of my upper back, and after discussing how bit it would be and other details I decided to go with my side. That tattoo is pretty big, so it actually is on my ribs, side and back but it’s not so big that it wraps all the way around. I got it on my rib cage, because only when I wear certain cloimg_0451-1thing articles or share it with people can they see it. In a way this tattoo is specifically for me and I like that when I want to share it, I can, but I don’t have it.

All of the work was $160 dollars. It’s the most expensive piece so far, but I have about five other designs  I want on my body, so it probably won’t be the most expensive for long. I don’t know when I’m going to get another tattoo, it probably won’t be for a while. Adult life kind of gets to me every once in a while with bills. But I know that no matter what I get this tattoo will always be my favorite tattoo just because of how personal it is to me.

Addressing the Elephant in the Room

I’m sure most of you, by now, have noticed a few things that are different. If you haven’t noticed, on all of my social media accounts, my name has changed. Is this a prank? No, i really did go through a name change. Why? It wasn’t to be complicated or to spite anyone. I did this to make myself happier and for other personal reasons that are too complicated to explain in one blog post without backlash. Which yes, I”m trying to avoid.

So where am I now? As the spring semester of college is coming to an end, and adulthood continues to take control. I am doing fine. I have gone on many adventures, some in which I would have documented right on the blog. The most recent and favorite adventure is one with Brandon. We traveled to Louisville and got to see Panic! At the Disco. Which was really cool, and extremely life changing.

In the next six months, I will be getting my own place and starting back up the YouTube channel, that’s the goal. The new channel (here) will have more content on it, and better editing skills. I would like to start vlogging the adventures I go on and the impact that they have on me. Being a broke college student is always fun to watch.

Lastly, where does that leave the blog? The blog will always be here, and I will continue to write on it. As a writer I am currently working on my short story skills and becoming the ‘aspiring author’ I talk about. I will always be a poet, but I won’t ever be a novelist. I save that to people who have the strength for it such as Brandon and Hypha. Short stories however, I am willing to dabble in and figure out.

  • If you are confused, just remember most of my accounts (with the exception of snapchat) are my first two initials (SE) my last name (now BRYANT) and the number 40.

Dinner Conversations (Short Story)

     I’m sitting at the dining room table. It’s been a long day of school, and my parents expect me to say something more than, “It was boring.” Which, no matter how true it was, apparently saying it seems worse than telling a lie. “It was great. I learned new things.” I could tell them that, however that involves another conversation… which includes saying what I learned.

What did I learn today? In second bell Marcus decided to throw an eraser at Isabell, who then made a huge scene, which the teacher bought. In study hall, I finally finished my sketchbook, with my own version of Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night. At lunch, I again sat by myself, but that’s mainly because my group of friends no longer exist. Well, Maria still has my back. You rat a kid out once for cheating and suddenly you’re the snitch of the eighth grade.

It was at that moment that I realized that my parents were staring at me. I had a plate full of chicken, rice and broccoli and hadn’t touched it yet. It was father’s favorite meal, which meant mother was up to something. “Placement tests for the art school is a month.” My mother said, while looking at my father. This was an argument which they had been having for a month now. Mom wants the art school, and father wants the public school, which he attended. The issue with both was that I wanted to get far away and just live a bit. And as usual, they go off into their own conversation on why the other is right.

There is no time like the present.

“So, as it happens, I found a really good school for next year.” My parents look at me clueless. This had been the longest running conversation at the dinner table. The conversation about my future beat out our conversation on how we would beat the apocalypse. Which is a conversation we’ve been having for over a year now, due to all the apocalyptic shows my father watches.

“That’s good sweetie!” She’s trying to be supportive, but every word is cracking because she doesn’t want me to go to the district public school.

“Wherever you want to go, is where we will send you.” He says confident that I’ll pick the cheapest future for myself, go into the family business and still be highly successful.

There is no time like the present. I play with my fingers and scramble the words out. “There’s a boarding school, about four hours away, located in Nevada.” My parent’s jaws are dropped. For once they can agree on one thing, I was going crazy. I have an opportunity to live my life outside Roseburg, Idaho and be proud of it. I don’t have friends here and it will be hard enough going to high school.

Many moments pass.

I start to eat. I’m scarfing down my plate, so I can leave the table and go to my room. Nobody is talking. They both can’t be thinking that much, they barely think that much in general. As they continue to sit in silence, I get up. I push in my chair and clean my dish.

“Sweetheart, wait.” My father, holds out his hand. He’s going to give me that, father side hug and tell me what a huge mistake I’m making. That boarding school is for teens with issues. I don’t have issues, obviously, because I’m their little girl. But I please him and walk over. Leaving my dish in the sink.

“May I ask why you’d want to go to this boarding school?” If I knew he was going to ask questions, I would have prepared for them.

“Well… um…” How do I put something so cruel, into the nicest words for such fragile people? I’m fourteen years old, that’s not how the world is supposed to work.

“I want to move away, be on my own. I want to experience new people, and can say I enjoyed it. Staying here, where the sun hardly shines makes me depressed. I don’t have friends at school, my teachers keep sending home notes saying they need you to sign off on things, which I then sign. It’s not that you two did anything wrong, or that you messed up… But secretly I’m wanting more.”

My father hugs me, and for once he’s on my side. “Okay, I understand. I’m not hurt, and if it’s what you want then I’m sure your mother and I can get –” He’s cut off right in the middle of his heart warming speech. A speech I desperately needed from him. Why would my mother do such a thing? This may be the only time I get this from him.

“No.” The most understanding person in this room says. She gets up and walks out of the room. I sit down at the table once more.

Father looks at me and says, “Maybe next dinner she’ll be alright.”

How Did You Find Out There Was No Santa Claus?

I was probably around 8 or 9 when  I stopped believing in Santa Claus. I know that some things took type for me to accept. like the tooth fairy. However, Santa Claus was one of those things that I found really suspicious.

For instance, we didn’t have a fireplace growing up, but my Aunt always kept a “special” key on the inside of the door. Saying that he was magic so on Christmas he was able to get in through the front door. Also, I had insomnia growing up, so most things would wake me up… I never heard the Reindeer.

The most significant reason I knew something was off, was probably when I was old enough to start wrapping my own presents. At some point, around the time we moved from away from Dayton, my Uncle would start asking me to wrap presents he couldn’t. Now I’d like to say no later than 10, because by age 11 I ruined Santa Claus for my little brother.

Honestly, finding out Santa wasn’t real was so long ago. I truly don’t remember all the facts.