In honor of what's happened today I wanted to post something special I wrote while listening to our new president speak about the day.

Annunciation Day

I have been waiting for the day that I know tomorrow would come. I am waiting for the day that I can sleep peacefully at night knowing that the sun would rise and warm rays would shine again. I want to accept that day and night are inevitable. I don't want to spend my life living in fear that it will be night forever. I don't want to be afraid that the hardest challenge of my life is ahead of me, but know that it is, and feel ready to face that day.

I have been waiting for the day that loneliness didn't feel like a given. To go to sleep carelessly and wake up knowing for sure that I am not alone. To know that life isn't always easy, for anybody, and that others will support me in my moments of weakness. That the people around me are willing to pick me up, like I would pick them up. That I would not be judged for my empathy towards others. To feel certain that the people around me would not mistake kindness for weakness. I have been waiting for the day that I can celebrate with others when we are triumphant, and mourn together when we fail. I want to hold the hand of my beloved as we brave the unknown together. I want to rely on other people to provide the strength I cannot find in myself. I want to provide other people the strength that they need to understand that they are beautiful, capable, and have limitless potential.

I have been waiting for the day that my love and passion is not a burden. The day that I am no longer in debt to my spirit. To feel valuable as an artist and a person. I want to return to the celebration of my creativity and discontinue the doubt of the path that I have chosen. To know that this was not my only path in life, but for better or worse, it is now my path. To know that I have the ability to have success doing what I love and to share it with the people around me. I want to know that I have the potential. I want to feel confidence that I am living my life to the best of my ability. I have been waiting for the day that I am valued for what I can do, and not turned away because of the things I haven't learned yet. I want to be given the chance to learn. To be given the chance to prove my mettle and show that I will not disappoint.

I have been waiting for the day where I feel my voice resonates with my message. To know that for better or worse I am heard. To not allow the fear of judgment or failure silence me. To express the most vulnerable things in my heart and mind without hesitation fearing judgment. To know my message has meaning and that others will value it. To no longer doubt that I am not good enough to achieve the peace of mind that I have spent so long looking for. I have waited for the day that I am no longer afraid to embrace others with everything I have to offer because I am afraid to see them take it for granted. I have been waiting for the day I recognize that I am not taking those gifts for granted myself or the gifts of others. I pride myself in my vigilance to recognize the beauty of the people around me rather than judge them for their faults, but fail to truly secure that recognition of myself.

I cannot say that the day has come where I know that my words have value. I can only hope that day is soon. I can only hope that soon I will feel the value that others have in my words and sleep peacefully knowing that tomorrow will come and that I will have a meaningful day. I do not ask for an easy day. I do not ask for the day to be given to me outright. I just want to know that the day will come, and that I will be valued, and have value in the task ahead of me. I do not have any important mission, nor do I have ambition to be somebody important to many. All that I ask is that I am important to those who know me. My only ambition is to be loved by a few.

On a day like today it's easy to believe that the light of morning is just over the horizon, but I've seen so many false horizons. Yesterday was difficult and I'll never forget that. I want to believe so badly. And I want the people that I love to believe too. I hope that day is soon and I know that I am not alone. I never want to stop working for that perfect day and I never want to lose hope that it will come.

Cigarette

Cigarette
-A Stream of Thoughts, Drag by Drag

Don Macavoy

I was no stranger to smoke by the time I could walk. It was just another one of those things that existed in the world that I was still discovering. I admired the twirling, looping smoke as it poured from my grandfather's hand, as if by magic. I had my eyes fixed on him at all times. His constant smoking was a fact of life as I grew. It made me cough but he was my idol so why would I question him? He only stopped long enough to reach into his pocket for another smoke. He kept them on top of the grandfather clock in the living room, as if I couldn't reach them if I wanted to. When he took me to the flea market he would buy me the packs of gum in cigarette boxes that would smoke when you blew into them. They can't sell those anymore. Because that's why kids start smoking. I would puff away on them, right along with him. People would say it was cute. Now they would say he was setting a bad example. I started learning about the dangers of smoking in middle school. They painted a vivid picture of what it does to your body. Obviously I didn't want lung cancer and death the only person I really cared about in the world, so I set out to stop that. I would take his cartons from the top of the clock and hide them. I told him why I did it, making him laugh at me. Not in a mean way. In the way like he knew that I was only doing it because I loved him. That being so, he still knew he wasn't going to stop because I wanted him to. He continued right on smoking and I continued trying to stop him. I once took a pack right from his hands and put it in the toilet. I never realized it then but I must have smelled like smoke all the time. He started to get angry with my attempts but never got really angry because he knew I had good intentions. At one point I gave up on my pursuit. My cousin was visiting once and was smoking in the basement. He told me to try it out, so I put it to my mouth and inhaled. I coughed and handed it back to him. I never even wanted to try but that one time was enough to make me realize I was correct to think I wouldn't like it. All those people who talk about bad influence might be a little off. I took all of my cues from this man, following in his footsteps any way I could, but this was something I never wanted to do. I always figured that when he died it would be due to his smoking. He got sick, but it had nothing to do with smoking at all. His memory lives on with me and sparks up again everytime someone lights up a cigarette.

Hey everyone. Happy New Year. Hope all is well. Our latest topic, chosen at random from a genetic sciences book, is "cigarette" and it's proving to be a worthy challenge to all the writers. I finally finished my story. It's inspired by some Henry Rollins spoken word pieces (particularly "I Know You" which I borrowed from a little) and some actual experiences I went through. Oh and some things I made up. It's rough first draft, probably could use some work, but I've stalled enough. Enjoy.

Slow Drag

by
Casey Holmes

I started smoking when I was in 10th grade at my first school dance. Anna Myers asked me to go. Before that point it I had never considered either. I had no desire, no gnawing curiosity, to know what goes on at a school dance. I would hear whispers in classrooms and hallways about them. I saw the popular girls beam ear to ear when they talked about the boys they hoped would ask them. It never crossed my mind that there could be a girl out there hoping I would ask her to dance. I saw them having fun and it was always such a mystery. It was almost magic. It made me think there there was something wrong with me. That I was ugly. That I was too short and had bad skin. I felt uneasy inside my skin.

None of the people I spent time with went to school dances, but there was a lot about school my friends rejected. I didn't always fit in with them. They got laid. They got high. They smoked small cherry cigars. They got drunk and drove around town past midnight. They had a style that they owned. It was bold and I wasn't. They seemed to enjoy life like every day was a gift and today might be the last. They welcomed me, but I don't know if I ever felt welcome.

I spent my weekends working for less than minimum wage in a pizza joint down the street. It gave me something to do and a place to be on Friday and Saturday night. It got me away from them and kept me away from my parents curious why their son seemed so anti-social. The neighborhood kids all went to school dances. I tried so hard to understand them and be part of what was happening, but I never felt invited.

I was in the library when one of the popular boys walked up and asked bluntly, “Would you go to the dance with Anna?”
Nothing in the world could have prepared me for a question like that. Anna Myers was a fairly popular girl. Thin and blond. Short and cute. She had a swagger that made timid boys like me shake. She was way out of my league and I knew it, but I was too baffled by the thought to care.

“Well, yeah...” I said, and with that he walked away without giving me any time to qualify myself. I sat there with a big goofy grin unable to focus on the book I was reading.

I drove home that day with Chris and Lauren. As soon as the car doors shut I sang like a caged bird.
“So this girl asked you to the dance? Good for you,” Lauren said smiling and keeping her eyes ahead. She was two years older than us and secretly we all looked up to Chris for landing an older woman. I had spent a lot of time with the two of them and became a perfect third wheel. I didn't mind. I welcomed the company. “We were planning to go to that, we'll go with you.” Chris shot her a glare without breaking the air drumming he was doing in the passenger seat.
“You two wanted to go?”
“Sure, why not?” She said still smiling.
“She's graduating, it's her last homecoming,” Chris snapped in his most unaffected tone.
“Okay,” I said, “Let's go.”

I went into work to tell my boss that I needed Friday off. At first he was hesitant. He told me how much he relied on me. I was his closer. I told him that it was important to me, but he wasn't about to budge. He reminded me that I could have said something weeks ago. I told him that I had a date and his face lit up. He grilled me with a sly grin on his face and forced out just about every detail I knew about this girl. Eventually he told me that I could go and not worry about Friday.

I spent the rest of the week jittery. I didn't run into Anna, or even the messenger boy, but that was nothing unusual. There was something about me that wanted to tell everyone about my date at the school dance, but once reality began to sink in I felt a tremendous anxiety. Was I in over my head? The night before the dance I laid in bed wondering why she would ask me. Was it because I was so weird? Was it to single me out? To mess with me? Was it because I wasn't so strange after all? Because I had friends I never knew about? Maybe I'll be the life of the party. Maybe I'll find the words I never could before. Should I even go? Would they laugh at me? What if I don't wear the right thing? Would I know what to say? Can I just go in and deal with it and have a good time? I laid awake for hours running the scenarios through my head.

The next day school was agonizing. Dinner was excruciating. My mother never seemed happier. She helped me get dressed. She made sure that my clothes matched. She told me that I looked handsome. She gave me a flower to wear in my jacket. I felt overdressed. She gave me a small corsage that she had made herself. She told me that My father never looked more proud. He patted me on the back and gave me a three pack of condoms and warned me not to do anything stupid, but with a wink. Chris and Lauren picked me. I don't remember what we talked about along the way. I just remember the music thumping in time with my heartbeat. Chris playing drums on the dash. Lauren with her eyes relaxed and a smile on her face.

The gymnasium was decorated adequately. The music was obnoxious and nothing I would normally listen to. I was sweaty and nervous. Lauren told me to relax. I felt like I was standing in the middle of enemy territory. Chris and Lauren followed me as I looked for my date. I wondered if she even showed up. I finally found her sitting at a table alone adjusting her shoes. She wore a pretty white dress and looked a little bit overdressed herself. I looked back at Chris and Lauren. They gave me the nod. I left them behind and walked up behind her.

“Hey... Anna,” I said trying desperately to get the words to work for me.
“Oh hey...” She said smiling.
“Nice, uh, dance,” I said.
“Yep,” she fired back and looked around. I dug into my pocket to find her corsage, and before I could say another word Matt Ridley cut in front of me.
“Ready babe?”
“All set!” She looked at me with a drunken smile. Like I was watching magic in front of me. “Bye, uh...” she said realizing she didn't know my name, “Have a good time!”

And with that they went into the darkness of the dance floor. She didn't like me. She didn't hate me. She dismissed me without ever knowing that she had my attention in the first place. I stood there trying so hard to well it all up. I looked back at Chris and Lauren. Chris was rubbing is head and looking down. Lauren had heartbreak in her eyes. She walked up and gave me a hug.
“I'm so sorry sweetie,” she said to me in a very maternal way. I hugged her back as hard as I could. “If you want, I'll save a dance for you,” she said as we let go.
“No thanks,” I said looking down at my feet, “I don't know how.”

I walked past the two of them and threw my mother's corsage on the floor. Dragged myself across the gymnasium pushing my way through people mingling unaware of this invisible little broken boy beside them. I looked down at the floor and navigated with feet as I went towards the door. Later I found out that Anna had asked every boy in the class if they would go with her. She wasn't really asking. It was just nice to know. I felt so stupid. I never felt betrayed or mislead. I felt stupid. Stupid to think that someone like Anna would ask me to a dance. Stupid because I told everyone how excited I was that a girl was interested in me. Stupid because I wasn't smart enough to know better.

I walked out the door and sat on the curb away from the streetlight next to the school. The solitude of the night was a hard fought ally and a true friend. Faithful and patient. I was trying my hardest not to cry, but it was no use so I sobbed quietly to myself. After a few minutes the door swung open and a girl walked out digging through her purse. I looked over but turned away quickly so she wouldn't see that I was upset. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I wiped my eyes and looked up. She was offering one to me.

“Yeah, sure,” I said straining my voice, but trying to sound tough after what I had been through.“What's your name?” She asked. I told her.“I'm Gwen,” she said not waiting for me to ask. I took the cigarette from Gwen and let it dangle from my mouth. She lit hers and passed me the lighter. She took a drag and I watched as calm washed over her.

"Freshman?"
"Sophomore." I sniffled a little bit as wiped my nose.

“I like that there are birds that will sing to you at night,” she said as a matter of fact. "It's comforting to know." I tried to light my cigarette and seeing that I was having trouble she leaned down to light it with hers. I could see in the light that she had soft blue eyes and dirty blond hair. She wore a vintage dress and her perfume smelled nice. I looked away embarrassed. She sat down next to me tucking her legs under her dress.

I took a drag and it felt like my chest was on fire. I immediately began to cough. She giggled a little bit. I tried to look like I smoked a pack a day, but I think she could tell. We sat quietly smoking watching the silhouette fade in and out of the light. My eyes watered, but I couldn't tell from what.

“Cigarettes will kill you,” she said flicking hers to the ground and rubbing it out with her stiletto shoes. She walked inside without saying another word.

I took another drag and coughed a little bit more. “See ya,” I said knowing that she was out of earshot. I got up and started to walk home with a lit cigarette dangling from my mouth and felt like Frank Sinatra.