Big Apples: The New Cure For Writer's Block

I’ve always loved spring, but there’s something about it that always throws me into writer’s block. Which is strange, considering that the beautiful weather and the world coming alive around me should be enough inspiration, but for some reason, it never is. The weather gets warmer and I grow colder, so to speak. My inspiration freezes over like a lake in January, and while the blue skies have made me happier on many occasions, I seem to be frozen in a confused, miserable state.

I always feel like no one understands me, but in a way, I don’t even understand myself. I understand what I want to be, but I just don’t want to understand what I am. Obviously, no one else does either. From what I've gathered, I understand that I’ll never be good enough for anyone. Every time I yank out my headphones, I hear people talking about their lives, lives so much more interesting than mine, And it’s so shallow, but it hurts.

My writer’s block just got worse, to the point where I was used to it. Well, until I came across something to write about.

Have you ever been to New York City?

I mean, we all see the city in movies, portrayed as some magical kingdom of urban fairytales. But many people live their whole lives without having the opportunity to drop in for a visit, just to see if it’s just like the movies.

Well, today, I woke up at approximately four-thirty in the morning to spend the day in that kingdom. And let me tell you, to an average person, New York is a dirty, overcrowded, smelly town with a few pretty buildings. But to me, New York really is a kingdom, if you choose to love the things that most people overlook or hate.

I said to a friend of mine once, "I think that if you're a logical person, New York is a crime-infested garbage can of a city. But if you're a dreamer, it's a wonderland."

I love the crowds. I love the abundance of taxis. I love the beautiful buildings, old-fashioned and modern ones alike. I love the way the buildings are so close together. I love the pigeons that hop around and fight over food scraps. I love the inspiring signs that the homeless people hold. I love the street performers. I love the colorful graffiti. It’s all strangely beautiful to me, peaceful in the weirdest way. It’s because it’s all like a big routine. It’s a habit that you get into so quickly, just to let it go almost instantly. Waiting for the sign to change from the orange hand to the white walking person. Moving with and against the flow, always beside someone you’ll never know. The noise becomes a dull roar, the smell becomes familiar, you even stop constantly looking up. City life becomes at least a little bit familiar.

I spent my afternoon with Yuuki and David, roaming Times Square. No supervision, no worries, no annoyances. Just three teenagers roaming around New York, pretending that they weren't wonderstruck.

We stopped at many places, like the huge Toys ‘R Us with the Ferris wheel inside, and the Hard Rock Café, but we didn’t buy much. Just scoffed at high prices and talked about random things all day. We ate in the middle of Times Square, still trying to comprehend the fact that we had spent fifteen dollars each on food that wasn’t even that great.

While in New York, I made the decision that I wanted to go there more often, maybe even go to college there. I wanted to look and be comfortable there. I wanted to sit down at one of the tiny red tables in Times Square and just write, inspired by the peaceful multitude that surrounded me.

Throughout the day, I couldn’t help but think, I wish Floyd were here. I wish I was in this city with him, holding his hand on a crowded street, tossing food at pigeons and laughing.

But there was another thought that seemed to cross my mind, one that I’d rather not think.

I wonder where Jordan is. Where did he go? What is he doing?

Jordan was somewhere in that city with me, with people a lot more interesting than me. But why did I care? Why did I care?
This is the part of the story when all of you will sigh solemnly and think about how stupid I am.

I don’t know what to think anymore. I like Floyd, more than I’d ever admit to anyone. But I like Jordan too, more than I’d ever admit to myself. It seemed so easy to let him go, but as my faith in Floyd fades, I fall back to him. He’s like my safety net. He’s adorable, kind of cute in his dullness and awkwardness. He would be easy to go out with. I wouldn’t be afraid of him leaving me too soon. If I were the perfect girl, his heart would be so easy to capture. But I’m not perfect, so I’ll have to try, and I don’t want to try. He can keep being stupid, and I’ll keep acting like that’s all I think of him.

Jordan has become quite the challenge over the months. It’s almost like he’s afraid of getting close to me, and it confuses me. And it confuses me that I fall back to him so easily, when I let him go so fast. I don’t like challenges.

But there is one challenge that I’m finding hard to resist, and that challenge is Floyd. I’m below the surface, and I don’t want to stop now. But where exactly am I going?

Because it feels like I’m on a one-way trip to nowhere with him.

Sears Knows My Secret

Yesterday, my family and I went out to do a little shopping. Shopping, like any other thing involving spending money, isn’t very common with us, so it was a good way to spend the day.

There is a town near where I live that I love to be in. It's technically a city, actually. But it’s not a city with cold, shiny skyscrapers towering over your head and crowds to get lost in. It’s a city that was built many years ago and it just stayed the same way. It’s full of tall, old buildings, long streets full of all kinds of shops, and murals painted in different places. Being there just gives me that city-induced-excitement, even though it is much smaller than any city I've ever been to. But cities are all so alike. The streets smell of food. Cars are always driving by. You feel insignificant, but in a good way. You find yourself trying your very hardest not to look like a tourist, but the architecture around you is so beautiful that you just can't help yourself.

My family was in the city to visit the pawnshop, where we checked out some of their guitars and electronics, bought a few cheap DVDs, and left. Then, we drove down the road to Wal-Mart and my sister and I bought ourselves brand new iPods with our Christmas money. As I pulled the stack of fifties out of my wallet, I found myself wondering if the checkout guy assumed that slipping checkout guys hundreds of dollars was something I was used to. I wondered if he thought I was just another one of the spoiled teenagers he sees so much of every day. If some chick had so casually handed over that much money to me, I would've never guessed that the only time she sees that much money was Christmas. But I guess that's just what everyone does. Pretends that parting with their money is to be treated with nonchalance.

Then, we drove up to one of the three or so small, shitty, deadbeat malls in our county so my dad could use his Sears gift card on new tools and new jeans. What a bore, watching people spend money. Yuuki and I dragged behind, laughing about random things in that way you can only really do with your siblings.

She pointed to one of the aisles and said, "Look! Blue paint!" We scrambled into the aisle, where hundreds of colorful paint sample card things were set up on the shelves in rainbow order. I laughed like a mental case, grabbing as many blue cards as possible, shoving them into my purse. I wondered what random onlookers would be thinking, seeing two teenage girls playing with the paint color cards like little kids. I zipped up my purse and we scurried off to find our parents.

Later, I thought of all of those colorful cards in the store. Just sitting there, waiting for someone to come along and pick one up, flip it over, and call the number on the back. A person who is ready to remake something, ready to make it new. It was then that I realized that just like how actual paint can change something, make it new again, blue paint can do the same thing to your mindset. And it’s always free.