Circadian

Eliot lay on his bed. The blinds shut the moonlight from entering, and his room door closed to the late night stirring of his suitemates. For now, it was only the little green flashing light of the smoke detector, and the eerie glow of Eliot's labtop computer, slowly playing his playlist of Coldplay.

Eliot sits up, and turns his head to his desk clock. 4:02AM. "One of those nights again," he sighs to himself. As he gets out of his bed, Eliot looks at the stack of paper messily compiled in the TO-DO box, clearly the only offending piece of his otherwise neatly kept room. After a slight hesitation, Eliot elects to not to dig into the pile. "I'll get to it tomorrow," he reassures himself.

"What to do now then?"

He thinks of the past; his life has just been a blur. A messy collage assembled with only half the effort, and a fourth of the time. As he sits in front of his computer, Eliot rubs his eyes, so many questions. Where did his motivation go? Where is his youthful drive? What is he doing with his life?

Coldplay's The Scientist comes on:

Nobody said it was easy.

Nobody ever said it would be so hard.

Oh, take me back to the start.

It was time for Eliot to go back to the start. As the song ended, Eliot climbed back into bed, awaiting his fresh start, one that would come with the newborn sun of tomorrow.

Relay For Life Reflections

After hearing some really moving stories about people who've personally struggled with cancer, I felt that I should share my story, from the other side of the mirror.

Cancer has not been a new topic for me for sometime now. Having done a bunch of cancer research, I've never seen it as a taboo term or even as mentioned during the opening ceremony, "a death sentence."

I suppose it is for the better, as I've always looked at cancer as a disease that hasn't had a cure simply for one reason: there are too many causes to isolate a failsafe, one-size-fits-all cure that may apply for other illnesses. I've personally experienced the troubles that researchers and scientists face trying to get enough funding, since there are too many pathways that may lead to cancer, so who knows where to start?

This is why I relay. I know that cancer isn't some invincible disease, and that if we have the money and public awareness, we can beat this disease together. I relay so that people working on a cure will have the financial means to further explore the labyrinth that is cancer. I relay so that people I've met in geriatric oncology wards will have a better prognosis. I relay so that we remove the social stigma behind cancer.

That being said, just because cancer is a serious condition, doesn't mean the fundraising events have to be just as serious. Relay For Life ranged from truly inspirational stories shared by cancer survivors, to energetic, fun routines of zumba. I can say that I got to not only reconnect with myself and reflect on where I stand on cancer, but also to connect to many of those close to me, having fun, and coming together to support a worthy cause.

My favorite moment of the night would have to be our silent prayer circle, reaching out and praying for those names on the luminaria bags. Although I'm not one to pray out loud, one of the names that I prayed for was Pamela, whose bag had in parentheses, (My Mommy). These two words really rang inside me, and let me realize how blessed and fortunate I have been, that no one in my direct family has ever been diagnosed with cancer. My good wishes go out to this family, and only reinforces that I'm doing the right thing.

The Tavern

"...And then she says, 'You got a crush on that girl, boy?' "

"What? Get out of here, that's ridiculous!"

The two men laugh heartily at the story. John and Rick were regulars at O'Malloy's pub. It was a homey place, with wooden tables and benches. Saint Patrick's day was coming up, so the place was dressed head to toe with green streamers and other clover-shaped paraphernalia. The two men were sitting in the corner booth, eating, drinking, having a good time.

John was a tall, lean but built man. Still young in many respects, but with a mature mind that liked exploring deeper meanings. Rick, in contrast, was a bit older, a stronger and wiser fellow. John and Rick originally became acquainted through community sports, but through further interaction, they soon became like brothers.

The two of them were usually too busy with their own lives to "hang out" per se, but John came to Rick for advice usually in times of stress. Other times, they would make time for each other just to talk.

Tonight was no exception.

"So let me get this straight. This girl just asks you if you were crushin' on her friend?"

"Yeah, it was kind of out of the blue. She even pulled me to the side and was all hush hush about everything."

"Now that's a real hoot. This is cause I know you don't love her that way."

"It's all perspective, isn't it?"

"Nah, John. To be perfectly honest, love for a sister shouldn't ever be confused with love for a lover."

"How would you tell the difference to avoid confusion? For yourself, and for others?"

"Hey now, if I knew that, I'd be a really rich man, wouldn't I?"

The two men laughed. As they both clanked mugs and finished their drinks, their laughter echoed through the otherwise empty tavern.

The Girl

She's one of those types that you kind of know, but to be perfectly honest, you don't really know her. A girl who is as mysterious as is appealing; the only true connection you've ever had to her was probably through mutual friends. The stories that people say about her, only peak your interest more, and you introduce yourself to her.

Turns out, she's not as straightforward as you once thought. There are so many things that are not covered by surface level conversations,only after some one-on-one time do you find out what she's actually really about. You like what you see and hear, but you're scared of commitment; is anyone truly ready at this time, at this age?

Despite your best efforts, things get a little bumpy, as your relationship to her is kind of on and off. There are disagreements, misunderstandings, and potentially even periods of denial. But in the end, there's always something that keeps pulling you back to her.

You're like a new person to me now, and I like what I see.

Faith.

My Sophie

My Sophie is like no other.

I've heard stories of her kind before: usually independent, strong-willed, and beyond a doubt capable. These stories almost always attached a sign of warning, to be extra careful not to get onto the bad side of one of them, as it usually ends poorly for me and others in my place.

But like I said before, my Sophie's different from them. She's irresistibly cute, and despite my attempts of getting her to fend for herself, I find myself caring more and more for her; she's unbelievably needy and I guess that's a sign of weakness on my part. I can't NOT care for her...who can resist those beautiful eyes?

What's worse, I find myself completely entranced by her. When she's there with me, I can't focus. I try, and I fail. I try again, and I find myself playing, spending time with her again. But on top of it all, I don't feel guilty in not doing my work, as I'm loving every waking moment with her. It's hard to say exactly why; in fact, it's frustrating me to no end. Is it Love?

She, however, does not always reciprocate. Her mood constantly fluctuates, leaving me in a quandary to guess the correct method of approaching her. There are times in which she has scratched me with her nails, bit my fingers to get me to stop, forcing me to rethink/reconsider my actions and choices. Whether it is in retribution, or merely out of spite, it hurts me more than any pain a stranger could inflict.

Why do I do this to myself? It's interesting to think of cases and pointing out everyone else's problems, but I guess when it happens to me, I don't process it as easily, nor do I realize what I've gotten myself into. I suppose the devotion gets me somewhere, or does it?

I guess my kitten isn't as different from the others as I thought.

Holiday

It's quiet.

Too quiet. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. 3:59AM, the digital numbers shown very clearly in contrast to the dark night. I put my phone back on standby, turn my gaze to the stars. Little pixies, dancing, flickering, swimming in a soup so black it can't be fluid.

Suddenly, a bright light approaches. I cover my eyes with a hoodie sleeve, and a train of taxi cars rush by and park temporarily by the curb. The driver who pulled up first, turned off the engine and stepped out of his car, leaving his headlights on. He was a man in his fifties, looked healthy and spoke with a voice to back it up. He looked at me, and said, "You need a ride, kid?" I told him, "No, I'm good. I'm not actually leaving."

The driver laughs heartily, and follows up his first question, this time with a curious undertone to his inquiry, "What are you doin' out here at 4 in the morning? Don't you college kids normally catch up on sleep during the Holiday?"

This question took me by surprise. I had completely forgotten that Holiday had arrived. I had been so busy, that it had completely slipped my mind. I thanked the driver for the notice, and ran back to my suite. When I opened the door (which was no longer propped open), everything dawned on me.

My suite was completely pitch dark, single rooms with all doors open, things rummaged through, missing clothes, electronics, people. The only response in the entire suite was an echo coming from the bathroom. After finding no one in the suite, I walk into the hallway, checking for other people. I called a few friends, texted a few others, trying to reach out. No use, no response. I ran down the stairs outside again, but the taxi drivers were already gone. There I was, standing alone in the middle of a larger network of labyrinths, unable to locate my way out. It's quiet.

Too quiet.