Fictional Writing

Somehow I have spent the last three years of college writing papers on everything and in every style but fiction...until now. For the first time in my history at Manhattanville, I received a fictional writing assignment. It was no joking matter. It was for my Law and Literature class, so as you might imagine it had something to do with that subject matter. The requirements were fairly open, save for the fact that we had to include characters from many major works of literature in our completely new and original story. The concoction that I came up with includes the dear old figures of Holmes, Watson, Horace Rumpole (from the Omnibus series) David Copperfield, Inspector Lestrade, Billy Budd, Amelia Nettleship, Nigel Baringham, and other odds and ends thrown in there. When I first began to write I had no idea where the story was going, so the five page limit turned into a 20 page “good ol’ yarn.” Or something like that.
I must admit that it was strange to delve once more into the land of fiction. Ideas and words coming straight from my head, with no limitations on the part of construed prompts or topics, was a little more different than my usual fare of essays. Overall, however, it was an enjoyable experience. I’m taking a couple more literature classes next semester so perhaps this will not be my only jaunt into that other world.

Memory

I think that magic exists. I've found it a couple of times, tucked around the corner of seemingly ordinary ideas, thoughts, and circumstances. I've made magic a couple of times...at least I think so.
Last summer in early August, she was a dancer, I was that musician of sorts. We had spent the majority of the evening wrecking havoc of our own sort on the island I call home for the summertime. Food had been ingested, umbrella's stolen, footballs thrown down store corridors, hijacking boats considered and then abandoned for opera house cafe's where out of tune piano's were played. She thought most of it was a riot, but wasn't satisfied with my ability to charm the funky notes into anything magical, so we went elsewhere. I didn't know what the goal was at first, just followed her into the car and to the island cottage. There was more sneaking, a breaking in of sorts, and we were in a dark room. She told me to close my eyes and suddenly that piano was in front of me. I didn't say anything for the next twenty minutes, just played and played and played. Four months without a real instrument will do that to you.
When I finally looked up she was dancing. It was just me and a piano, an empty room, and her dancing. We were separate in our worlds of creativity, but together they blended and wove to make something entirely new. You can call it what you want.

Small Acts of Kindness

I was sitting at work in the library today when my Italian professor from last semester walked in. She is an adorable little woman who speaks in slightly broken English, loves her students, and is always interested in learning more about the “Americano” way of life. Last semester she would often ask us students to explain certain phrases or words that did not make sense to her. Most often those explanations ended in laughter.

Today before taking her normal place at one of the back computers, Professor Alfeo approached me at the desk and asked me what I wanted to drink. I looked at her quizzically and she told me that she wanted to buy me a drink. I asked for a hot chocolate, though I was still unsure what she was up to. She smiled and went off, and a few moments returned with the hot beverage, along with a Snapple for my coworker.

“See I remember you like Snapple,” she told him.

“Thanks so much but…why?” I said to her.

“It is because I taka yoga classes,” she said with a grin, “and they teaches us to do these acts of small kindnesses. So this is my smallest kindness for the day….plus I just like you.”

Ken and I laughed delightedly and she smiled even bigger and went on her way. In retrospect, although out of the ordinary, what she did was really quite wonderful. It was simple and easy and made us both happy. Small acts of kindness, as a theory, should be something that I subscribe to more often. Next time she comes in I’m going to return the favor!