clairee
Cells. I immediately think of the picture that Hooke discovered under the microscope so many years ago, a pattern of misshapen squares. These were cells, it said in the biology book. These are what make up life. Every living thing has cells. We are made of them. Animals are made of them. It was strange to think that these thoughts, these limbs, everything, was simply an amalgam of these tiny little molecules, these squares, cells.
I predict that I will fail miserably at being a star in college because I am so inadequate in my writing compared to other people and me getting into this great college was really just some kind of messed up fluke and this is going to suck. I want to be a good writer, but I've already lost so much time and I can never make up the amount of practice that these extraordinary people have built and slaved through for so many years. What am I trying to even do with my life.
It's hard to figure out what your beliefs are. I think a lot of people go through life without ever stopping to think what their core values or what is actually important to them in life. I think it's a critical part of your personal identity as a person, what you believe in. Your life philosophy. What your belief is. It isn't always about religion or science or what not, just what you think is true, and what kind of life you think you ought to live. Personal beliefs, those are the important things, I think.
Everybody always tells me I have a beautiful smile, but I think any smile, if it's a genuine one, is gorgeous. It's the way people's eyes light up and just sparkle and the joy radiating off their faces. I especially love my boyfriend's smile, when it's real, when it's directed at me as if I'm the only thing in the world that could possibly ever make anyone that happy. I love smiles on little kids and I like smiling at people because it's just such a simple gesture to share the good feeling of love and happiness.
We sat at the train station waiting for the train to come. It was in Japan, and I was excited, because I hardly ever rode trains back in Florida. When the train stopped and people got off and we went in, I was giddy at the little seats facing each other and I sat down and watched as the Japanese landscape passed by. At one point, near lunch time, we bought egg salad sandwiches, and they were the most delicious sandwiches I'd ever tasted in my life. I never had as good a sandwich as that again.
I embraced him as he stood in my doorway, blue eyes sparkling, hair unruly and playful. He is always so huggable, fitting perfectly in my arms, a little curve in his hips for my arms to settle. I breathed in his scent, stronger always when he sweats, but he wasn't sweating yet, but the first smell is always perhaps, the best.
I think of the sun rising in the east. How it does so day by day, and how I rise in the morning to its light, peeking through the window curtain. I've never watched a sunrise, but it is something I would like to do one day. I think it must be beautiful, I imagine light slowly trickling over the world and the sky gradually moving from black to a dusky gray to a dark blue and then slowly lightening to the shade that we see in the day time.
It's so rare to find a teacher who legitimately cares about his/her job or students, so rare to find a good teacher. Most students like teachers who are carefree, children, don't teach, and don't give homework, and it's easy to be that teacher. It requires no work. But to be a good teacher requires knowing the delicate balance between being the friendly kid and a real teacher, how to impart knowledge and wisdom and inspiration to a student. The truly great teachers instill a love for the subject, for learning.
Forgetting is terrifying, my worst nightmare. I hold memories so dear to my heart, I write partly because I don't want to forget memories, because I don't want to forget. My worst fear is getting a disease like dementia or Alzheimer's. Living with my grandmother who suffered dementia made me terrified of it. To be reduced to a mere shell of a person, concerned with basic living, walking around, forgetting her daughter, her husband's death, and remembering nothing else but to eat. I never want to forget. My memories make me who I am.
The house was newly painted orange, and it looked gleaming as it stood on the corner of the street. Some people were dragging in a gray fountain to put on the yard, and her parents were tending to newly planted flowers in the front yard. I waved to them and said hello, and walked on. It had been a while since my home had been touched up like this, and I wondered at the excitement of the new couple.
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