I write short stories. I own surprisingly few pairs of shorts. I sometimes short circuit.
"Alana" sounds like "A lotta" = A lotta shorts.

Take the title however you like.

Friday, January 8, 2010

Essays

I'm working on some, I guess you could say, semi-autobiographical essays.
Here's an excerpt from one called "Belonging" which, in truth, is wholly autobiographical.


I went home for Christmas again. My third year of living out of the country....

As we drove around to various places – the mall, Starbucks – a sort of disconcerting feeling began to creep up on me. The seed was planted as we first entered my hometown around 3AM Saturday morning. New stores had popped up. Old stores had gone or been redone. The landscape had changed significantly. But since it was for the better – Target! – it didn’t register as startling but as welcome....
Then we went to New York and everything fell apart. It didn’t help that we went wandering around Chelsea where I’d never wandered before. But for the subway stations and the horrid smell of freshly washed sidewalks, I would have said I’d never been there in my life. This, my favorite city in the world. This, the place where I had the best year and a half of my life. Though, I have begun to think I’ve romanticized the memory to the point of corruption.

The seed had sprouted and grown roots. That night I sat on the edge of the tub, trying not to cry, wondering who I was. Canada had become more familiar to me than my hometown in Pennsylvania. New York had become like a stranger who looks like someone you know, but isn’t. You call out their name or tap their shoulder and when they turn around, you realize – to your embarrassment – you’re looking into the confused eyes of a stranger.

How did I come to find so much identity in a place? In a geographical location?



No comments:

About Me

My photo
I'm Lanii. I try to Be Good. It doesn't always work. "Call Me Lanii" is sort of about that - my inner and outer triumphs (what?) and struggles. "Alana Shorts" is sort of about that, too: I draw way too much inspiration from the crazy and strange events that actually happen to me and end up writing very little 'fiction'. I usually have my tongue quite thoroughly stuck in my cheek.