Archives for posts with tag: WRiter

I was fresh at university, nineteen years old, when I had to get a surgery. It’s a weird surgery my mom is convinced is for those who hang out on their computers too long, called a Ganglionectomy. Basically they removed a cyst from my wrist that was making my fingers move on their own in a painful kind of way. Anyhow, not the point.

So I had this surgery, and then, everything sucked.

At the same time of this surgery, I was dating this guy I’d say was my first real boyfriend. He was obviously handsome, and hilarious. But I had this surgery and after puking up all the anesthetic, I got a call from him on my navy blue Nokia cell phone.

“I can’t see you anymore. You’re marriage material and I can’t do that right now,” he said. Read the rest of this entry »

“Why, if you are interested in the country only for the sake of painting it, you’ll never learn to see the country.”

“But that’s just how a real artist is interested in the country.”

“No. You’re forgetting,” said the Spirit. “That was not how you began. Light itself was your first love: you loved paint only as a means of telling about the light.”

– C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

Making your way in the world with the interests, passions and talents that one has can be a fairly confusing path. Read the rest of this entry »