Today a good friend of mine returned to where we first met. She technically landed tomorrow morning in France. As stated in my last post, I always want to go back to Normandy, a place I call home, but getting a message from her this afternoon saying she had arrived to the very home we lived in last year is really difficult. It had been a goal of mine to return this summer as well, but things just didn’t work out. All day, before I even got her message saying she had arrived, I have been dwelling on thoughts of Normandy and my French family and friends. I long to return so badly… I want to be back in France, thrown into the culture and language that fascinate me so. I want to see the people I met while there and spend hours talking with them. I want to walk along the beach and eat crêpes. I want to have fresh baguette sandwiches with butter, meat, and lettuce. I want to be able to wake up and see the only place that I have truly and completely considered home. But that probably won’t happen soon, and it breaks my heart.
One year ago today, I was in France experiencing D-Day like I never have before, nor ever will again. I saw some of the most breathtakingly beautiful views, which were also some of the most heart-wrenching. To think of tens of thousands of men losing their lives on the same beaches and cliffs that I stood on was too much. We spent days discussing the impact of D-Day and visiting various sites and witnessing beautiful ceremonies; despite how much I learn about D-Day and how it changed history, I will never fully understand a single bit of it. My heart has been aching for the places I call home: Merville-Franceville, Springfield, Ozark. But today, more than ever, I truly wish I could be back in France, in Normandy. I long to experience the heartbreak and joy that is felt by all because of what happened on this day 70 years ago. I want to walk the beach where part of the Atlantic Wall still stands and remember the way the world would have been. I want to witness the veterans embracing their past, remembering the lives that were lost, as well as those that were gained. I want to see the celebration of the nations as their continue living in freedom because of the storming of the beaches and the mourning of the lives that were lost. I want to walk to the memorials and battlements and simply touch the concrete and marble with the most unfulfilling “thank you” I can manage. Because no matter what I do, I will never be able to saying “thank you” in a fulfilling manner to these people. No matter what I do, the full extent of my gratitude would never be seen. I can never thank the men who laid down their lives to free people they never knew. I can never thank them.
The amount of recognition of this day, has declined incredibly in the States. I’ve been witnessing a bit more recognition over the last few weeks than I ever have before, but it’s still such a small amount. Many of us barely think of D-Day and then continue with our days. But after experiencing the celebration and mourning that takes place in Normandy, I will never look at this day the same again. When I think of it at random, no matter when it is in the year, tears are brought to my eyes, my heart yearns for some way to show my gratitude and thankfulness, and my mind is overwhelmed with everything that took place. Please, whoever you are, wherever you are, take some time to learn about how the world was, especially in Europe, at this time and think about what the world would be like if D-Day didn’t occur. Appreciate what took place. Even though it was horrible, it brought freedom and life to millions.
This started out as a really great day. I mean, who doesn’t want to go galavanting around with their crush? Sure, I know taking up his offer of coming here was foolish, but I wanted to prove that I can do anything I put my mind to.
But now, I’m running for my life. Ugh. Why do I have to be so stubborn and vain? I don’t even think he stayed here after I came into the forest. Did I set myself up with a serial killer? Probably. There’s nothing I can do now except try to survive the night and find a way back to the city in the morning.
Let’s see. How exactly did we get here?
Yesterday morning, he called asking if I wanted to go out tonight get some food and then coffee. I spent the day figuring out what to wear and what some of his favourite topics are so that I could actually hold a conversation with him. Then we met up and went to La Rue de la Vie to eat. The tiny diner was so romantic and delicious, though I might have put him off by eating two steaks, a salad, a baked potato, and some pie à la mode. I know, the diner has some of the best French food in the city, but I wanted some steak so badly. At least I have plenty of food in my stomach to hold me over until I find a way home.
He said he wanted to do something crazy, that he had never done before, and that he wanted to have the experience with me. That didn’t really last long… Well, he suggested coming to the forest to see the sharks. Yeah, they have some at the zoo, but neither of us had seen a wild one before, swimming through the trees, awaiting to find some prey to rip and devour. I thought it would be cool to come here and see them, but I wasn’t really thinking we would be getting out of the car and actually trying to find one. I am known by some as being a serial dater: I’m vain, constantly looking for guys who are willing to go on crazy adventures, mooch off my dates to eat as much as possible without paying a cent, and seeing how much I can gross or weird them out, but I think this is the first time I’ve ever been truly terrified because of what a date decided to do after dinner. Well, it’s too late to turn back now. I’m going to see if I can find him and then get us through the night, that is if he is still here…and still alive.
I keep thinking I’ve finally lost the great white that has been following me for the last fifteen minutes when I here the whooshing of it’s tail in the air again. This has got to be the most adrenaline I’ve ever had pumping through my veins. Despite the fact that I’m absolutely terrified, I’m also quite enjoying this adventure; it’s incredibly thrilling. This is the first date I’ve had that I actually liked the guy, but apparently, I’ve found my match in the serial dating game, and I’m just hoping that he isn’t the serial killer he kind of seems to be right now.
Still running, I trip over a branch hidden among some plants. Just as I regain my balance, I look up. A glade! However, I don’t know if a glade is more dangerous or safer; I don’t actually know the habits of sharks. If I weren’t trying to escape from a great white, I would simply stop and bask in the beauty of the glade; I’ve never seen one in real life before, very few people have. I’m scanning the glade and its perimeters for a hiding place when I see a man with wavy brown hair stand up and turn toward me running. Freaking Jack! Oh my god, it’s him! He’s still here and still alive! I see his eyes, and they are full of terror, so I look behind him. A frenzy of hammerheads, cookie cutters, and goblins is following his scent, numbering about twelve sharks in all. I am no longer happy to see Jack. Forgetting about the great white, I turn around and run just as Jack nears the edge of the glade. Why? Why did we think this was a good idea?
Even though we are now being following by a great white, some hammerheads, goblins, and cookie cutters, I can’t help but think about how wonderful dinner was and how even when I brought up topics I know he doesn’t fancy, he willingly discussed them. Glancing at him, I realise that his blue eyes seem even more piercing in this haunting light and adrenaline-filled forest, and now I want to get through this more than ever.
Panting, Jack slows his pace slightly and turns to look at me. “I am so sorry. This is by far the stupidest thing I have ever done, and it was all to see if I could impress you.” He blushes, and I can’t help but alternate between staring wide-eyed back at him and looking where am going so I don’t run into a tree. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to simply impress a girl so that she would like me before, and my mind just jumped to the craziest thing imaginable…”
I slow the pace even more, partially because I can no longer breathe. Is it the running, or is it the conversation? I come to a stop and listen, and I can no longer hear the tails of the sharks coming our way. This gives me an uneasy feeling, so I start to walk again. As I look at Jack, I see he is bleeding on his right arm, just slightly. That small injury is the worst thing that has happened to us yet. I quickly begin ripping part of my shirt off to bandage his arm to attempt blocking the scent of blood. He realises what I am doing and tells me he was bitten by a cookie cutter, which is why there have been so many sharks following him, but that doesn’t look like a bite. It looks as if he were cut by a knife.
Then we hear it. A sharp snap in the foliage. But this forest is known for only having sharks and birds, and the birds rarely come down from the trees. There is something, or someone, else in these woods, and from the look of horror on Jack’s face, it’s someone he’s encountered before. Suddenly, I’m not so concerned about the sharks anymore.
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How could I improve my writing?
What would you like to happen later in the story?
So, I’m going to start doing a lot of really random writing prompts along with my usual banter. First one: create an alphabetical list of advice.
Believe you are capable of what you long to do.
Count your blessings.
Don’t let fear stop you from following your dreams.
Earn your income.
Forget your grudges.
Have hope and joy in every circumstance.
Idleness won’t make the fear go away.
Jump in wholeheartedly.
Kill your selfishness.
Love everyone with whom you come in contact.
Move beyond your comfort zones.
Never stop believing.
Open your eyes and your mind.
Play and have fun.
Quit worrying about tomorrow.
Rummage through your old things, you never know what you’ll find.
Stay faithful, even when you least feel like doing so.
Take classes you would never consider.
Use your resources and talents.
Vent when you’re angry.
Wear your favourite clothes whenever you want.
X words should probably be avoided when writing…
You’ll never be finished.
Zeal is good to have, but don’t let it get out of hand.
I am an internet hoarder.
I have accounts all over the place. I “like” everything (example: at this very moment I have 3863 “likes” on Pinterest). I rarely ever post anything. And I don’t even want to know how many bookmarks I have on my browser and links I’ve messaged myself.
The worst part about the entire thing is that I don’t really ever use anything that I have online. I stock pile in case I want or need to use things in the future, but half of them just lay there untouched, and even unwanted, for months on end. If my room looked like my internet usage, I wouldn’t be able to live in it. But on a computer, you can hide things away in neat folders within folders within folders within folders until it seems as though there is only one thing. I think it’s about time for a purge to happen on my computer and accounts. I need to organise things, throw some things out, and start using others.
I keep thinking of the Doctor Who episode “Turn Left” where Donna essentially relives her life and she realises how important her choices have been, not just for her, but for everyone. It makes me wonder what choices I’m missing out on because of wasting so much time perusing videos of people being scared (http://longhairandtiredeyes.tumblr.com/post/87647813524/punkrockmerman-jamestmccoy) or photos of cats. How can I put my time, in general and online, to better use? How can I change someone’s life for the better through the internet and in person?
Faith, I believe it is time for some changes.
This summer has been full of dashed hopes and unfulfilled wishes. The dashed hopes are coming from the lack of jobs available and the constant news that I am unqualified for the open positions. The unfulfilled wishes are all over the map, and most of them are in my own hands. So why do they remain unfulfilled?
I constantly wish for rain, so I can go play in it or feel like I’m back in France. But when it rains, I remain inside and continue longing to be somewhere else.
I constantly wish I were writing, but when I begin, I would prefer doing something that takes less thought.
I constantly wish I had more videos, but I don’t want to put in the effort to write, record, or edit any videos.
I constantly wish I had songs of my own to record, but I barely get myself to practice singing or playing an instrument anymore.
I constantly wish I were cooking, but I don’t want to bother with cleaning up afterwards.
I constantly wish I could design menswear, but I don’t want to learn to sew.
I am continually getting in my own way of fulling my dreams. Why do I hold these wishes so tightly but refuse to act upon them? I want to change this awful habit of wishing and dreaming without acting. However, I know if I make promises, I won’t keep them. I’ve never been good at keeping promises to myself. Therefore, I’m starting this as an outlet, to post whatever is on my mind, if I feel like it. I might begin posting on a regular basis, but I might not. I won’t make any promises about it, so that I don’t break any. But this might be a way to start pursuing some of my dreams, even if it is just in a small, insignificant way.