A World Away And A Wall Apart

Ode to Big Red

This is a letter I wrote to my family before I left for college.

As I type this I am sitting on my bedroom floor (partially because I want to, mostly because every other surface in my room is covered in clothes, books, trash, and little things that I am convinced I cannot leave behind - my life could depend on that flashlight someday). I’m packing some of my things in suitcases which my parents will then bring back with them.

My old friend the Big Red suitcase, has embarrassed me on many occasions at different stages of my life, due to his conspicuous color and size, which to a pre-teen trying to fit in is a reason for homicide. I first got him as a Christmas present when I was thirteen years old. He has been to Washington D.C. (where he had to suffer a lot of other suitcases and a small living space in the bus), Virginia, Mexico, New Mexico, all throughout Texas (except for El Paso of course, it seems that my parents are morally opposed to visiting that part of the state), Mexico again (upon which he was probably thinking ‘seriously, this place again? are you kidding me?’ because they weren’t very nice to him the first time, poor soul). So we’ve been through a lot together, this big red bag and I.

Through the course of our travels he’s been tossed, yanked, buried, and stuffed. Now I’m packing him with towels and my alarm clock, and he’s probably thinking “I hope we’re going someplace nice this time, like Canada”. Little does he know, I will be sending him back to the attic to stay behind while I’m off on another adventure. Just know, Big red, that in a couple years I’ll be back for you and we’re going to go somewhere nice, even nicer than Canada. We’re going to go to Britain, or Germany, or maybe even Switzerland, hopefully all three. I’ve got big plans in store for you Big Red, God willing.

     Y’all probably think I’m crazy for writing to a suitcase, but it’s at the beginning of your trip that you think about all of the places you’ve been before and how they will measure up, trying to make the unknown a little bit more known. Plus this is my blog and I’ll speak to which ever inanimate objects I like.

Nervously twitching from stress but forever yours,

Andie

KTSW

I recently applied to be a blogger for the University Radio Station KTSW … and I totally forgot that I had an interview today at 11:20.

So when that time came around I was just chillin at my desk. As soon as the clock struck 11:20 I remembered. When I got over my shock I just stood up from my desk and ran… but my shoes were hard to run in so I just took them off and kept sprinting. In the end I was eight minutes late.

Oh, and I also didn’t know who I was interviewing with. Classy, right?

No harm done though because my interviewer still saw me any way and seemed to like me. I’m supposed to send him a sample of my writing so that he can make his decision. Fingers crossed and hands clasped that I get it.

In other news, I didn’t get my job as desk worker. But I did get alternate status so there’s still a possibility that I will have a job next semester. I just keep telling myself that what’s meant to be will always be.

I never promised to write brilliantly, I only promised to write

Interview… Successful

Today I went to an interview for a volunteer position at KTSW Radio. They asked me to come up with a creative story about KTSW in about 2 minutes. I was so nervous! I just pulled out a dingy note card from my purse and a pen and did my best. After the interview the interviewer said that my answer was the best she had heard so far. Big Ego Boost. : )

high-society.

cordeliagablewrites:

The wind was in the willow—
The wind was a willow—
The wind willowed,

                              bringing

yellow mornings and beer bottle
caps, when the sparrow

         lurched.  I am my mother’s
                              daughter, I am my mother’s
                              daughter, I am

the will, winding &
         binding my feet like the cheongsam girls—

“looks like she’s going for the 1930s shanghai high-society lady of the night” was what they said.

I suppose it would make
         no difference                             to tell them

                                I am no willow.