{Where Do You Stand}

Here I stand, writing to all who read this, waiting for one day, to have it be clear; what I am here for. To lend? To thrive? To be brave in attempt? Where do I stand? Clearing my pathway as I travel on...I am not one, to know where I belong. I can continue in analytical hours to seek closure of who I am. Or I may find myself in time to come. Overwhelming me with these careers I indulge myself into; aviation, philosophy, medical, law...here I am vigorous and communicative, thinking as if my future was already here. I like to know what is to come, to not be confounded or in conflict of what will happen. To be in control of myself is significant. I like to know where I stand all along in this journey, though losing myself along the way, is just another obstacle I must regain. 

Silence, It Is So Loud

Silence. Night time silence. This silence is so loud, but peaceful. Crickets and street lights, the tinged orange glows reflecting from the cold and bitter pavement. Flowers, frozen from the stem out, and Winter is creeping before us. A car passes...breaking natures music. Infinite stars illuminate the sky, constellations telling their stories. A car passes. Buildings and grass, once not here, but now they stand still. Crossing street sign, a stop sign, telephone poles, a beeping car in the distance. What was it like before all of this. Before the houses, before the road signs and street lights? What was there to break the natures loud silence? A gust of wind and newly fallen leaves drift from one place to another. It changes once more. Where are the animals on this night? From the frogs to bears, tiny insects, to the fish in the pond. Where goes all of this nature now that we have become upon it? A car passes. I hear it in the distance, fading, a distant sound, continuing, continuing, a memory of a car once passed. Natures silence. Here comes another, faintly, about to once again obstruct this very loud silence, fading. Dew, settling onto the grass. When morning comes this will all be a memory, of which reoccurs. I could vanish into the night time. 

Slowly, But Surely; 9-11

Slowly, we mature. Slowly we learn from our mistakes. Everything we do makes us a bigger and stronger person. It doesn’t depend on “which road you choose,” but what we do at the end of the road. Don’t make it define who you are, but make who you are, stronger then you once were. We shape who we are step by step, decision by decision. They places we go, and the people we meet will always have an impact on us. A wise fortune cookie once said...”Don’t be afraid of the world ending, because it’s already tomorrow in Australia.” And this is true, to be scared everyday of what might happen, means you can’t see what is happening, and that should scare you more than anything, to not know what is happening around you. 

9-11-2001, a tragic and historic event that changed almost everyones lives. To think that you could be sitting in your room, everything the same, and a flash of fear had rushed through you, still shocked at what had happened just before. Confusion, scared, worried, lost. (Even though this had happened, you can’t live in fear everyday of what might happen, not to say the least you can’t be scared, but let yourself live, and when it eventually comes, which hopefully it won’t, worry then.) Thirteen years ago today, hundreds of thousands of people had died, died saving others, died in a fire, jumping, or even on the plan itself. A tragedy, honestly one of the worst things that has happened to us. Put aside the worries about 9-11 this year, and respect the firemen, and the policemen, and everyone who had died trying to save someone who had been suffering, or even if they had not died, the respect I have towards them is outstanding. The people on the streets, they didn’t know what was happening, having to run from the dust of the buildings falling down.  My parents had gone to New York while they were they were in the midst of the new building. The tour guide had said, that day he didn’t want to go into work, so his friend had gone in for him, he has thought for thirteen years since, that it was his fault he died. He was a fireman. Not returning to work after. But can you blame him? Or any of the other firemen or police men, people on the streets, lives changed forever watching these people jump out of buildings. In a documentary, of 9-11 I had seen today, live film, a fireman had stood there, watched a person jump from the building, and he became angry, he did not break or cry, he was angry. What if you were faced with the decision of burning to your death, or jumping. What a hard decision. Everyone across America, lives changed forever. People devastated in the loss of their family members. 

A simple orange room.

A simple orange room, with so many ghostly footprints, memories still passing through. Who knows everything that has ever happened in this room. A spare bedroom with no insight to what it was before hand. Everywhere you go. Walking down the street, you don't know who had walked before you. Outlets upon the wall, of which were plugged into the wall? A chair for who has sittin before? Simply a rocking horse, laughter, falls, we will never definitely know. Sometimes don't you like knowing that there is a past, a mystery of all these things, of the world. No one knows for sure what happened. You can't go about your life not learning something new everyday. This simple orange room, a chair, a horse, and a rug, and you will never know who has been here, at there, or looked through the window. Years from now no one will know that I had once sat here, looked there, and they will wonder. A simple orange room. Or a footprint in the sand, dissapearing memories and thoughts of who had once walked before you. 

Changing Season; Changing People

As the season is quickly fading into the vast and color swarmed fall, we also do. We are changed people each and every year, each and every day, some for better, and some for worse. With school on most of our shoulders, and prepping for Winter, no one is exactly ready. Do we always know who we are though? I mean I can't exactly be the only one who is still trying to figure what is going on.

 People are so relative to seasons if you honestly sit and think about it. We change so often, an endless cycle, at what point do we move on to another place and stay in that one climate, find who we are? I'm not sure how Maine exactly fits this scenario? The different seasons and everything, maybe when people are like Maine, they change all the time? Adjust in different ways. What if we are stuck in Maine, and want to move to California, be happy all the time? Maybe it's not meant to be?

 Do you ever think you are in the wrong place? Like you are meant to be somewhere or somebody else? I have to believe then when you die you understand who you are, and who you should of been. If you're lucky you can choose to be just that, or stay who you are. But honestly, I don't know what I would choose. If a wise person once walked upon you and gave you the option to be who you should be, who you want to be, or who you are, what would you choose?