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A place for Writing 12 students to read each other's writing, to critique, to suggest, to improve.
About Me
- Brad
- Former adult teacher who loves island beaches. Happy homebody and family man; once devoted dog owner, now without Tashi, my Tibetan Terrier. I prefer the absurdity of the imagination to the absurdity of imagining nothing.
5 comments:
I wish I lived outside of the city sometimes, but strangely enough I love the city (at least most of the time I do). When the guys start building giant fences around my local park, then I really do wish I wasn’t nearby. The Olympics are coming to my neighbourhood it seems!
First, the giant concrete blocks arrived—kind of like Easter Island statues, mute and mysterious. “Must be for security,” I said to my wife as we walked by. I also thought to myself I was finding out exactly what they were spending the billion dollars on. Somehow I’d always imagined it was for people in suits wearing earbuds and aviator-style mirrored glasses.
After the blocks came the concrete “piers” I think they’re called, the curved ones that you see separating two sides of a highway. “Must be worried that a terrorist is going to crash into the curling rink,” I mused to my wife. Then came the chainlink, a full four meters high. It was becoming hard to see the park and playing fields any more.
Thus, these days, I wish I lived somewhere else. Of course, I do know that everywhere else has its own peculiar problems, but as the roar of machinery starts up every morning at 7, it is particularly hard to keep on liking my own neighbourhood.
-I Wish I lived:
Lately, I’ve been thinking about living in Korea. I don’t know why, but living in there makes me all happy inside.
Especially during this time of year, it’s so live and exciting. All the neon signs and all the Christmas decorations are so beautiful and lively to look at.
If I have a digital camera to capure the moment, I probably couldn’t because they’re moving so fast and beauitfully I can’t even capture the moments.
The iron gate swung open; we were entering "Orchids Sushi Restaurant". Orchid herself,in her high heeled shoes and sparkling diamond ring greeted us. The smell of garlic,kiwi, and persimmon permeated the air . The promise of a tasty lovely evening .
I WISH I LIVED:
The best time and place was exactly as it occurred. My youthful years; we saw the end of WW2, very proud Canadians with high expectations. A area of good music, jass,jive,and swing, saddle shoes and silly humor. The nine o'clock gun resounded ever night frequently accompanied by the long soulful moans of the fog horns signaling the arrival and departure of the marine traffic . The city streets were reasonably safe,morals were fairly high .Dogs were seldom leashed; they like kids responded to authority. Cloth diapers and longjohns waved from clothslines,letting the world know who resides at that residents. Stores were closed on Sunday out of respect for Christians and church goers , ladies and gentlemen wore hats (not caps or toques). Public transit; electric streetcars were very efficient, Police and RCMP were well respected, Construction and products were built with pride to last. Shoe repair shops were common place,some provided a sitting area were you could wait,while the shoemaker repaired your one and only pair of shoes . Houses of Prostitution served to protect both the sex provider and the client ,proprietress known as a "madam",ran the show. My heart was young and my hopes high -I have just relayed to you the positive side of the coin only.
I wish I lived my dreams, faced whatever life had offered me, unafraid and unfaltering, with full confidence, and made manifest in reality, in myself, the traits and the journeys of the heroes I’d had read in books, though I knew that was not as easy as reading them, as flipping through pages, at least, I could‘ve tried. I was like an old Sufi proverb: “A donkey with loads of books is still a donkey.” Yes, I was a donkey, carrying on my back ambitions, fantasies, and dreams, but knew not what to do with them.
Someone told me that knowledge, not turned into action was merely a collection of facts, but I was a sloth, a sluggish, dumb sloth, and all I was able to do was eat and sleep. I closed, put aside, and forgot about my half-finished books, letting them gather dusts in one corner of my room. I skipped chapters. I had never annotated, so I never learned, never improved.
I wanted to believe that I could be somebody—someone whom others look up to, a man of achievements; though I knew, deep inside me, that it would be a lie. I strongly felt that I was not even worthy of the graces the gods had given me. Every night, before I sunk into my bed and covered my face with a pillow, past failures, and disappointments clutter my mind like a herd of squeaking bats, flying chaotically in a subterranean cave, not letting me escape into a dreamless sleep, easily. Every morning, when I woke up, self-loathing filled every inch of my being, hoping that I could simply vanish or run away, even from myself, and not to be found again. I was a coward.
But to stop dreaming is to stop living. I don’t want to die while I am still alive. I may be a stupid donkey, or a sloth, but I sure am not a zombie! Cliché alert: It is never too late; people can always change.
In this boring cold and wet winter season, I wish I lived at a hot and dry place like Africa. I could tease the endless rain when I stand there under sunshine every day; I could throw away the thick coat and rush to a warm ocean playing with wave until midnight; I also could eat ice-cream for cooling down, not for gluttonous. I will open all windows to smell those numerous flowers, not only Christmas tree. I will sweat a lot, and then take a fresh shower. Even though I had escaped from a extremely humidly city in south China several years ago, but, at this moment, once again, I hope I could go away from this suffering weather and reversed the short day and the long dark.
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