Friday, January 1, 2010

Sometimes the Words Escape Me

The meaning of words? There're a lot. There are different types of words, to be particular. I'm working on this book about a girl that grew up in New York City, and she's as far from the word "city girl" gets. But what sets her apart the most is her love for words; her rationalizations and critiques of all the different types make up her personality. She's sarcastic. She's stubborn. Most of all, she's got the softest core that could break your heart. When finally, she has the chance to be something, be something other than the stereotypical name she's always been recognized as, Elena Sarales explains to you, with the most honest and insightful of words, that when you ride into a new town to start a new life, how love and acceptance can be as sour as a crabapple; how at the same time, it can be the sweetest fruit you could possibly bite into.
Here's an excerpt:
       Life in London takes a getting used to. Its suburban cheerfulness almost makes me sick. But what really interests me are the people. Back in New York, I knew nobody, I was nobody. There were just so many things around me that there was no time and essence for other people to notice me. So naturally, today, as I was taking a jog downtown (because jogging is such an easier way to stay in shape than lifting weights), I was surprised at how many people made eye contact with me. At first, it was kind of discomforting; I cast my eyes down or pretended to be too absorbed in the music playing from my iPod. Soon though, I got used to it, and I managed to give out acknowledging smiles to complete strangers and small murmurs of How are yous that honestly would never be answered.
       I also had sort of an epiphany. Well I don't know if you'd call it an "epiphany", really, because I guess that sort of is a stretch, but I did realize something big. Maybe not big to you, but definitely big to me. Running down those campus bike trails, passing those reflective window shops with my ponytail bouncing up and down, I noticed how all the different types of guys. Most of them ranged from the regular college age: late teens to early twenties, but some were a little younger, younger than me probably, and some were a lot older, like my dad older. And looking at all the different faces and smiles and walking patterns, I came to conclusions that all college guys are hot. All of them that aren't overweight, nerdy, acne-spotted, or have severe facial hair (i.e: a goatee, because they may speak French here, but it doesn't mean the guys have to act all French), that is. It's kind of funny. I pulled a total Miya thing, today. I looked at all the guys, whether in disdain or lust, and just might have given them a sort of "rating". I immediately disqualified the unattractive ones (in other words, the Frenchies) because they didn't seem to particularly deserve a rating, but all the other guys that fit into my hot guy category, I gave them one. Also, I found out today, that there are two types of guys in that same hot guy category (I know, I'm so specific, aren't I?): The Cockys and The Quiets. The Cockys are the guys with shaggy beach hair (where in the world would you get a beach in London?) that are surrounded by a gaggle of friends (most likely, girls who wear belly shirts on campus) that always seem to be laughing or engaging in a laughable conversation whenever you approach them. Not that I would ever voluntarily approach the type. They're generally the "popular" guys you see in high school, the ones with that too-cool-for-you smirk, hence their given name. Eye contact was a major thing, though. I did make enough of it with a fair share of Cockys during my jog. They would briefly glance at me, either flash a smile or avert their eyes to their friends, and move on. But others, they'd be too engrossed in discussion with their clique that they wouldn't even see me passing by. The Quiets however, are a completely different story. They're the ones with headphones in their ears, hands in their pockets, looking down at their shuffling feet as they slowly trudge on. Eye contact with the Quiets is rare, but in the event that if you do make eye contact with them, it's a little awkward and not self-esteem boosting at all, because their eyes usually have a sad, soulful plea in them. They would be considered the intellectual type, I suppose. But usually, they're too busy staring at the ground below them to even notice you. So if ever, some cute hooded guy doesn't smile at you when all the other guys do, don't feel bad, just consider the mannerless oblivion to be in their nature. 
     By the end of my little stroll that day, I am able to assign Jake into the Cocky category, the ones that make eye contact, and Sage into the Quiet category, the ones who don't.
       -- From Memoirs of a {New York} Traveler
           © 2010 Stephanie Gamverona
Please keep in mind, that this isn't edited yet so it may sound a little shabby, and that it is original writing, so due to infringement laws, you DO need my permission to use it ;)
Questions or comments? Feel free to email me!
Have an amazing 2010, everyone! xOXo->steph!<-