Letter 7

Dear Josephine,

Sometimes I think of you as my patron saint. Isn't writing a type of prayer? Tonight a tiny airplane carried me from New York City to Washington. It barreled through the sky as if to say, "yes, I am here, and no, I do not have time to talk I am in a hurry", and we cruised over a cloud landscape that resembled a hiker's snowy terrain and the mountainous volumes in Alaska; although I have never been to Alaska I know this analogy must be true. But the pilot moved the plane so quickly and without much grace and I clutched my seat and mentally stated everything for wish I am thankful. My reasoning was such: I do not want to die, so God (although I can't claim to be "a believer") here are the things in life I appreciate. Is appreciation and recognition a sign of admission? I ended, as perhaps I too often do, dramatically, with a homage to Pandora, for she left us with an allowance for hope. I am fearful of despair.

Going to London made me recognize the importance of expression, how we often forget to express ourselves, how we make routine expressive of our lives. "Today I decided to get a cappuccino instead of drip coffee," seems a rupture in the daily ho-hum, something note-worthy. For the past months I've fallen into this comfortable trap, I've lost the allure and hunger for creativity and a voice. In a London museum I found myself again. On a plane departing from England and destined for America, I dreamed of canvases and primary colors. I dreamed of the clicking of typing and the definition of words. How foolhardy of me to forget this necessity, this will to create.

There were no thorns in this discovery, Anne Sexton, but a finding. Thoreau is always right, it seems.

love,

your laura

Letter 3

Dear Josephine,

Yes, I am alive. I am glad you mentioned your understanding of my busy schedule, although of course you're right - I shouldn't neglect you. Please do not fret about a dwindling correspondence, I find little time to write to you as I'm spending my twenty-two year-old days & nights writing flowery poetry and eating chocolate frosting from a plastic container (actually I'm pounding my liver and have begun to frequent: restaurants that specialize in brunch, free! museums).

Yes, I realize it is now 2008; I am not without a daily (technological) calendar and have been forced to sign checks that detail all the months I've paid rent. I have made resolutions, although they are more for my personal growth and not worth sharing. Instead, I have made a list of things I would like to accomplish in 2008. Here:

a. Begin to write poetry again. Try writing form poetry, as it is challenging. Do not write about the familiar.
b. Hone baking skills by making an impressive coconut cream cake and master the art of cupcakes.
c. Make concrete future plans and act on them.
d. Document life through photographs.
e. Take a pottery class.
f. Start tutoring again.
g. Continue art project by adding pages to memory book.
h. Go skydiving.
i. Take a road trip to Mexico.
j. Read at least one book a month.

In regards to j., I have made a detailed list of books I want to read/have been planning on reading for a long time. Currently, George Orwell's dystopian novel 1984 (or shall I say, Winston Smith) is teaching me the values of democracy.

I leave you with a quote I find astounding and it happens to be my gmail "signature": "The question is not what you look at, but what you see," -HDT.

Can't life be summed up entirely in the spaces between those words? Here, meaning is created.

love,
lcs