INSPIRATION:
During the past nine months of quarantine, I've searched for comfort and an escape from daily overwhelm. As a writer, these escapes have become sentences of fantasy and bliss. Lately, I’ve found that I can’t always write beautiful words and phrases without stopping for a moment and going dark. There are also times when I can’t write at all. Although I carve out time to create every evening, I often end up doodling in my notebook instead of writing. My scribbles are agitated colors that bleed into a perplexing brown. I suppose being creative is not something you can plan or schedule, at least for me. The entries that follow are moments of inspiration that I’ve selected from my Notes app, Post-its, receipts and a variety of other mediums to document this creative rut.
SECTION 1: SPRING
The first section of my collage series evokes the feeling of being overwhelmed and resisting that feeling to the point of disassociation. When looking back at my collected materials, I find that I sometimes chase perfection to escape uncertainty.
March 1st, 2020
Eating a grapefruit. God, I love grapefruit. I don’t know what aspect of a grapefruit is so satisfying because I can’t eat it cleanly. My teeth puncture the fruit and the juice splashes into my eye. I always dust white sugar on the top to counteract the sour, but the bitter stays on my tongue until the end of the day.
March 3rd, 2020
It was that house. That house that holds our dreams of a washer and dryer. The house with the lime green shutters and the pristinely trimmed lawn lined with peonies and begonias. I think of you in that house because you are perfect like its flawless windows. You’re beautiful with your shaggy curls and dull brown eyes and yet I can’t touch you.
April 25th, 2020
I sit at a laptop for seven hours a day and look at things I can’t afford while teachers talk about concepts I can’t grasp.
SECTION 2: SUMMER
For me, this summer was a time that lacked fulfillment. I felt like a shriveled version of my creative self looking for satisfaction in the color of my hair. People who know me accept that my hair is constantly evolving: pink one week, black the next, blue a couple weeks after, my favorite color red the next month. I’ve been asked why I do this—change my hair so often. I really don’t know.
SECTION 3: AUTUMN
I’m back in school, the beginning of my last year of high school, finishing up college essays and submitting applications. The days were repetitive so I found myself reminiscing about past routines filled with human connection. Lately, people around me talk about how much they miss simple pleasures. I, for one, yearn for dirty subways and hugs.
October 3rd, 2020
It’s that explosive flavor of lemon drops and sour candies from the deli on 4th Place that reminds me of you. Of sugar-coated, electric-green and pastel-pink Haribo sour straws that I suck on until my tongue turns a shade of muted violet.
November 19th, 2020
I’m drowning in passwords I can’t remember. I feel like I have five I tend to go to, but for some reason, none of them are working. I’m going to distract myself. Normally I can remember things after I distract myself.
December 17th, 2020
The birds didn’t go south for the winter. The first thing I noticed when I woke up on that hot morning in January was the shrill song of the common blackbird out my decrepit window. The air dewy and sticky, my palms begin to sweat. I crave icy air and snow but know that I’ll never have to buy a winter coat. I’ve been removed from the outside for too long.
SECTION 4: WINTER
Winter is always the most challenging season for me, but especially now during the most bizarre and testing time of my life. I stay inside more than I do in other months. I spend my mornings in front of a lamp that imitates sunlight so I can start my day bouncing on caffeine, emanating an artificial glow.
January 1st, 2021
New year. Still reading Gone Girl.
Jan 17th, 2021
I haven’t spoken to you in months.
But I’ll see you on Tuesday and it will be so normal.
We’ll go to the pond on Elmdale and sit on the fallen leaves
Finally, we will feel peaceful.
January 18th, 2021
You are the definition of grace
You are beauty
You are an arched back in the sun
You are clear skin and gentle hands
And
Cracked palms on beach sand
You are whispers on cold nights and
Hot tea on the kettle
Why are you making fun of me for heating water in a microwave?
I’m so sorry
I didn’t do it right.
January 23rd, 2021
I want to write like a watercolor painting. I want to float across the page in bright yellows and tantalizing oranges. Unblocked and released.