This past summer, I made a short stop at my old community college’s parking lot H.
This isn’t the first time that I’ve done this ritualistic practice in the past three years. I sit in my car and desperately wait for a dark gray Toyota Camry with a Delaware license plate to pull up, accompanied by a familiar and comforting “I’m not going to make it through Psychology today, Madi” glance.
The icy, frosted car windows of young expectancy turned into a warm breeze curving through my window to dry the fluid streams on an older, expressionless face. Even though I knew he wouldn’t, he failed to show up every time.
I had always sat in our spot, but after moving to Kentucky, I needed to do it one more time so the Camry could no longer disappoint me.
Afterward, I began writing down what I had experienced. Which tear made it first down the length of my steering wheel, how the landscaper mowing the grass probably thought I was crazy, and how the weight of three years seemed to lift off my chest in an hour.
How I had finally moved on.
I had captured the moment that I had been waiting for years to experience, and I had finally learned that,
Writing solidifies the critical moments.
From the different peer perspectives I have been exposed to, writing is severely neglected and, honestly, made out to be moderately useless.
I understand that numerous academic papers are written during our college years, but that does not mean creative writing should have a stigmatized, negative connotation. Creative writing is not a systematic or formulaic activity. It is genuinely nuanced in personal benefit.
When I talk about writing with others, about half of the time, I will receive the “I’m just not good at it” excuse, which I immediately call out.
Writing is only difficult if your agenda is to prove something to people. It’s nice to get positive feedback on your writing, but your thoughts begin to lose integrity when catering to the public eye.
It’s not about being proficient in syntax or dedicated to the perfect diction, nor is it meant to be written for the appraisal of those unaligned with your mind.
Humanity writes to solidify thinking.
Each writing piece is a mindset. It’s almost unbelievable how the circumstances in nanoseconds up to infinite centuries can be encapsulated into a handful of words. An anecdote that is transparent and emotional is not cringy, just as the components of nostalgic journaling do not lose value in the passing seasons.
Allow yourself to relive moments, good and bad, and adopt the notion that all that is recorded through the particular words you choose leads to an epiphany.
You will be a better person if you write.
I am not the first to say that “journaling your feelings” is beneficial to your well-being. That is the most cliche advice to give someone, but nuanced in badgering repetition, it is entirely accurate.
Recently, while driving home with a friend one evening, she and I were conversing on the topic of knowing yourself, prompted by my blunt statement of, “I’m my favorite person to spend time with.”
Her reply consisted of a confession that, at her age, astounded me. She had no idea who she was, what she believed in, or what she desired for her life.
I simply challenged her to write. There is an infinite amount of knowledge to be gained in the recording of mundanity. If one writes about the surrounding environment of their walk to an afternoon class, it can be laced with so many values, perspectives, and lessons not-yet-learned.
For example, my 5 p.m. walk to a meeting was a wake-up call. So, I will solidify my walk in this editorial.
I began my walk with a lack of conscious awareness. The pavement appeared to have more cracks than usual (or maybe, my pessimism grew from the cracks in the solid pavement). I was anxiously micromanaging my footsteps to allow myself the false sense that I was in control of something. The leaves looked orange that hour, and the way that the evening light had cascaded through the soft sheet of scenery gave me a colorized shock. I had, at that moment, smiled without being prompted by someone; I’ve always struggled with relying on people to induce my contentment. As the leaves fell, my independence skyrocketed. Orange hues helped me realize that I was the gatekeeper to my own gratification.
I have just taken a mere ten-minute segment of my day and articulated it to represent a life-long lesson. Do not neglect the impact of words.
So, write why you chose your outfit today. Write when you feel like a new person and record what advice you will give when that new person fades. Solidify the moment when the ridges of his fingertips first softly melded with yours.
The second tear made it down my steering wheel first, and I have saved many after by words. Simple, expressible words.
