Lara Reyes-Terry | Week 13 | Wednesday Nights

 7:10pm

The last of the blue sky was kissing the horizon to sleep when I left rehearsal. The horizon was blushing all shades of orange and purple, and I was glad to be out late for once. Was it me, or getting to actually stand my neck straight up and look out, and see stars. Milky way droplets on a dark satin sheet, the distance was so vast, and the walk to the car too short. I’ve never actually seen shooting stars before, but tonight was one of two I’ve ever seen.  


Was it me, or was the weight on my shoulder a little lighter? The baggage on baggage has broken all our backs once or twice (let’s be real, it’s more than that). The stress aches your soul, you know. When was the last time I held a paintbrush (can’t really get away with this one, I have Art 1 every other day)? 


Okay, but really. I can’t remember where I put my sketchbook last. 


The air is only slightly cold, like the huff from a closing door. The ride home is quiet, a limbo between workplace and work-at-home. A chance to unwind, and by unwind I mean literally empty out your head. Time to scrape out the latest regrets and toss them to the street out the passenger window, kill time by watching the little spots of darkness get run over by a trail of sparkling light. I don’t remember what I must’ve been thinking walking home at the sane time as 3:14pm. Did I wish on speeding headlights instead?


It hits me then, a dull buzz in my pocket and killjoy of that afternoon: 


Someone forgot their notebook

That’s [so and so]


Fuck

There goes the nighttime lock in. I’ll have to pick it up tomorrow. 


There’s no time for anything now, but it’s not something you can really complain about. But then again, everyone complains about it. Deadlines on deadlines on work on work on time, and my god if our backs are weak, time is twenty feet deep. 


What was I thinking anyway? Joy is something you earn.


You earn it by being complete. 


By not forgetting your damn homework. 


Whatever. 


The dopamine rush of rehearsal is long gone, no adrenaline to hide behind---just your thoughts and the ringing in your ears that never goes away.


It’s not you, it’s me. Sorry. Forgot you’re still here. 


The air isn’t just cold anymore, it’s freezer-burn cold now. Yes, that’s why I’m bitter. I’ll feel better once I just get inside and do my homework. 


My homework’s at school. 


Fuck. 


I know how to walk into my own house, why am I stumbling? 


I’ll just sit down for a bit, I have to remember choreo from today. 


But I could just do that tomorrow? I have homework. 


My homework’s at school. 

My homework’s at school. 


My room is a mess when I finally sit down.


9:45pm

I know I’m forgetting something.


~~~


(Pretty much everything here is a true story, I in fact left my notebook at school and almost forgot to do this. I’m kinda bummed I didn’t have any better ideas for this prompt but looking forward to the new posts from everyone!)


Comments

  1. I liked your blog. When you described the trip from school to home as this small grace period it reminded me of how consumed we have all become in our work. Similar to you, I can not remember the last time I touched a paintbrush or made a ring. I have no time for my hobbies anymore but it’s not guilt I feel, it’s pity, for myself. I’m so busy I can’t enjoy what I like to do. I cherish the car rides home because it’s one of the only times I can actually sit and think.

    I resonated with the words, “Joy is something you earn,” because right now it does feel like that. I get a bigger dopamine hit when I finish my to-do list rather than finishing a painting because it feels like I accomplished something useful. It kills me to say something like that though because both are useful in their own way. We’ve been conditioned to prioritize traditional success rather than our own and I hope, although unlikely, that as we grow older we find time for the things we have to leave behind right now.

    On a lighter note you have inspired me to finish my painting, which will not happen this weekend but will happen this year, trust.

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  2. Hi Lara! Even if you were disappointed with your blog I actually had fun reading it. This almost exact situation has encountered me one too many times. The lockers that are meant to be helpful really just stab me in the back (no it is actually my fault and yes I have chosen to blame an inanimate object) and instead eat up everything I could possibly need to meet that 10PM deadline. When I read you were coming home from rehearsal, I was immediately reminded of how exhausted I felt after marching band. I would have hours and hours of homework after being in the sun after school.
    I think the way you go about writing is unique and I always look forward to seeing what you produce next. It was interesting to see how you incorporated the feeling of guilt throughout your blog. It truly did replicate the shame I feel when I can’t totally say I have tried my best for school. It eats me alive sometimes, and it sounds dramatic but that is really how I feel.
    The repetition of realizing you forgot your homework highlighted your frustration super effectively. We can’t beat ourselves up over small mistakes because it does more harm than good. I say that but I will likely have a breakdown the next time I forget my psychology binder at school.

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  3. Lara, I admire the sort of cozy feeling of your writing here, though I know cozy definitely isn’t the right word for it. It feels somewhat nostalgic. And so relatable. Maybe that’s why it feels cozy to me, because it’s more like recognizing the kind of life I’m living out too and that provides some comfort to me. I always find your blogs really thought-provoking, and I enjoyed this even if you were bummed with this one (as I was too with my own blog, honestly). Seeing your ride home reminds me of what I tend to do on my own quiet path home: relive every single regret of my day! Like unwinding my coil of tensions, I’ll either konk out and take a nap after lamenting my actions for too long, or I’ll drag my embarrassments home and wonder if I’ll ever break my habit of making things awkward, saying the opposite of what I meant, or especially small mistakes that ended in massive disappointments. Like forgetting things.

    Time may be twenty feet deep. But it feels like it’s more of a swirling thing, twisting around the messes in my own room and encircling my desk. Your blog resonates with me in that it repeats things that have to be beat into my head somehow. Like how your homework’s at school, or how I really need to start studying and stop staring at what I need to study. When I leave my house, I always have that lingering feeling that I’m forgetting something—since I am often forgetful in actuality. Thank you for writing this piece, I feel really seen!!

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