Flight Path


When I find myself posting for the sake of posting, sometimes I utilize the word association game to think of a title, basically whatever comes to mind at the moment of initiation. Since I feel life is a path and that we’re all in flight figuratively speaking, the title here sparked in my mind and seemed appropriate. I’ve also justified my aimless subject matter through vicarious means, where I’ve discovered a blogger who spends her time and energy focusing her sharpest work on her writing, thus when the bloggy time arrives, it becomes a sort of toss-the-sandals-off-and-relax affair. Novel writing is anything but relaxing, and I’ve come to the point to where I scrutinize every last word with gritty and tedious effort, and I’m a little over halfway through. By the end of next week I will be able to make a note of marked progress.


Here’s my view standing in line with my fellow students for scholarships today.


The scholarships aren’t huge like my other one, but every little bit counts. The process unfolded in the form of a ceremony, where my ugly mug was presented before the entire theater congregation. I was inspired by the speeches made, but I’m like that: good speeches inspire me, even religious ones (a.k.a. sermons), though maybe I’m just out to cling on to all the inspiration I can get, which probably explains my infatuation with LeAnn Rimes inspirational hits. One thing about receiving the scholarship is that it comes with conditions, one being to attend the ceremony. Later I learned that I also have to actually sit down and attend a dinner with the local group endowing my scholarship to relay my plans for the future. What is this? I only found this out today, but okay, well, I’m sure they’ll find me to be an interesting person as long as I keep the nature of my turbulent histories out of the conversation. In truth, scholarship providers love to hear stories of hardships and how people overcame them, so they’ll be in for a real treat with me. I don’t know what to expect but I hope I don’t become the center of attention at this thing. By contrast, if they’re seniors, I’ll do great. I worked at an old folks home at the turn of the millennia, where I was met with hugs and love and granny kisses around every turn. What a cool memory to have.




A necessary task that attends changing the strings on my guitar is the trip to the music store. Before my accident, I had never thought of myself with heightened literary interests: I was a full-blown musician. Back then, I never fully noticed the interesting aspect of the music store scene, but now I recognize the features all too well: the businessman-looking owner in the back with the slick hair; the swindler-looking salesman running around being a pest to the people playing instruments who have no intention of paying for a product; and last but not least, the tattooed young guy with the long dark hair who simply looks too cool to be there and doesn‘t pay attention to anything.


I must’ve looked like a lunatic running around trying to capture pictures of a dragonfly with my tiny camera and my bulky blue bike helmet on, but to the world I say, “Mind your own biswacks…” The photo at least proves that with a little perseverance and words of extreme amiability, a dragonfly will eventually concede and pose for your picture.





On a more serious note, my heart became awed, saddened, angry, and even curious about the story of my real mother upon a viewing of The Unknown Woman. I hadn’t realized the movie was in Italian until I threw it in, and while I got a chance to brush up on my use of the language, I remained stupefied by the possibilities and mysteries that surround my natural birth, and this movie was no help at quelling my frustration. While this fictionalized tale of terror for a hapless woman seeks to mortify, I imagine my mother’s story was probably not as drastic, but what I found interesting was that at least the woman in the movie, after the long trail of hell, endeavors to discover where her children are. A sort of reoccurring dream of mine happens like this. As for the other subjects of terror that the film raises for examination, I shouldn’t spoil the movie with too many details other than I think that sometimes the images and ordeals portrayed in fiction might not even be as bad as the real life deal. Makes me feel good to notice myself perpetually gravitating towards good people, and makes me ponder the types of critical thinking and actual action needed to end the horror that mankind conceives. Watch The Unknown Woman for a glimpse into what a terrible world exist, but don’t watch looking for a wholesome evening with the family, this movie is heart wrenching.

This entry was posted in life, movies, personal, photos, Psychology, random, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Flight Path

  1. woowooteacup says:

    Love the gadget in the first & second photos. Reminds me of flight. Is that what inspired your post title?

    Congrats on the scholarship! You’re right. Every little bit counts. My husband got one and had to do what you did – attend an event to officially receive it. He didn’t have to meet with the scholarship committee, though, just write them some kind of follow-up letter.

  2. LK says:

    Hi Mary, and thank you. I still haven’t scheduled the day and I feel myself wanting to skip out on it, but I’ll probably call them eventually. Seems like a lot to ask seeming how the amount is so small. If it were a $5,000 one, I’d be writing a speech!

    The “gadget” is more bizarre art that seems to be appearing around the downtown aread, and while I found it rather interesting myself, I was a little curious as to why they put this thing in place of three ginormous American flags that used to stand there, they were much better looking. Maybe they were too much work.

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