Writing Assignment Due January 26th: A Quiet Moment

A quiet moment that is interesting to think deeper about is that moment after you say goodbye to someone and before you hang up the phone. I find myself on the phone a lot and I have never stopped to notice this moment, but now I will never be able to ignore it. Whether you have a quick, meaningless conversation or a long and in-depth discussion, this moment still occurs. No matter whom you have spoken to or what it is about, it will always end with your one final thought before you hang up the phone. This moment is so brief, however, that it is simply a moment of transition. Before I hang up the phone I am not yet thinking about and reviewing the conversation in my head. Even though it is there, the moment is too insignificant to impact my life in any real way. It is after this quiet moment when the real reflection about the phone conversation begins. This can often be the best part of speaking to someone on the phone: the laughter and thoughts that come after. Without the quiet moment of transition from goodbye to hanging up, you would never experience it.

Writing Assignment Due January 14th: Here and Now

Currently, I am in my apartment. I normally choose to write in the same room in the library with the large wooden tables and encyclopedia-lined walls, so this is a change. I find it is difficult to begin writing here, to focus, but the difference is intriguing. I can hear the shower running through the bedroom, and my neighbor’s door slamming down the hall. It is a different feeling, but it is more alive. I can smell my perfume soaked into the blanket wrapped around me, and the peel from the banana that I just ate on the coffee table. My couch is not as comfortable as I would hope; my body has sunken into the indent that has been created much too quickly. No matter which way I shift, I fall back in. Nothing is perfect here, but it is home for now. With Penn State banners and black and white paintings on the cream-colored walls, it is home. With polka-dotted pillows and mismatched kitchen chairs, it is home. Because it is not perfect and I have doubts, I overlook many things here. The one missing blind in front of the sliding door, the basket of magazines on the table; so many small parts of this place that create the whole. I have never noticed how much the atmosphere has been changed by my roommate and I. Starting with bare walls, beige carpet, and bland wooden furniture, we have actually made it our own. It took many fights and the changing of a friendship, but I think we have survived. Our tiny, one bedroom apartment is a representation of the people that we are and that cannot be changed. Although I have tried to fight it and be perfect, I have learned that perfect is impossible, and to simply live and enjoy.