Being a tourist is not something I strive to be. A person being immersed in local culture and taking in all a city has to offer is what I long to do. Although the camera around my neck and pamphlets from here, there, and everywhere tells another story, I enjoy roaming the streets of new cities and soaking it all in. My travels have taken me to amazing cities. I fell in love with cities I had never been to before, and I am looking forward to falling in love with new cities all over again. I generally do not like the feeling of being lost, but there are a few exceptions to the rules I set for myself. My sense of directions is practically nonexistent, so being let loose in the streets of Venice was nothing short of daunting. Not that I was left to navigate on my own or anything, I just did not want to veer too far from the well-traveled path. That particular day, we went to the Peggy Guggenheim Art Museum. It seemed like we walked forever in the rain, and that is not an exaggeration. I aimlessly followed behind the navigating group, observing the people, looking all around, and trying to keep warm. With every twist and turn, I thought we were surely lost, but I did not feel uneasy. Venice is a beautiful city, so being lost did not seem like the worst predicament to find ourselves in at that moment. We successfully made it to the museum, and it was a hidden gem. It was an afternoon well spent in Venice. Somehow I ended up towards the front of the group coming back to St. Mark’s square to meet up with the rest of our travelers. It must have been a European miracle that I did not get all mixed up, considering I get turned around in my own hometown sometimes. This day in Venice gave me the courage to venture out and know that it was okay to feel lost in a new town. For the rest of the trip, I was more inclined to see more sights and enjoy the town as if I was a town regular. Towards the end of the trip, my roommate and a couple of other friends went out after dinner for gelato in Dublin. Since the night was still young, we felt we needed to experience Dublin in its truest and richest cultural form. We were on the hunt for authentic live Irish music. Our adventuring took us down O’Connell street, and rather than turning right to the touristy Temple Bar district, we turned left and began our quest. We poked our heads in a couple of different businesses, but none were what we were looking for. Farther down the street, a door opened and the sound of music came flowing out, and that was all we needed to know that is where we would end up for the night. As it turned out, it was the locals’ favorite place in town, and with it being tucked away on a dark street in Dublin, tourists were not usual. Lucky for us, we were a small enough group and did not stick out too much (other than our Irish accents were lacking). The hours we spent at The Celt were hours we spent singing and dancing like the Irish. Had I not felt comfortable roaming the streets of Dublin, I would have missed a memorable night with friends. I have this to look forward to all over again. This coming year, I have the opportunity to discover new cities and experience the cultures firsthand. I already love the cities I have not met yet, and it excites me to see them in person. I cannot wait to get lost in the sights and sounds of these cities and have the feeling like I belong. Collecting these memories are priceless to me, and with each passport page that is filled and journal I complete, I know each page holds the memories of me being lost in my thoughts and feeling as I wander with wonder. Stay Curious, Kayla ©Inquisitive Perspectives 2016
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Much like heirloom jewelry, the words of our stories are vessels of treasured value. As our stories are written, we have the task of making keepsakes out of them and tucking them away to reflect on through the years. When our stories become memories, we must string the words of life together like a strand of pearls are carefully strung to make a complete necklace. Each pearl represents a time, a place, a person. The ideas that words throughout life can carry such an impact and resemble some of the most precious of times gives me something to look forward to treasuring, like a piece of fine jewelry. When I was younger, I would write stories. They were often prompted as an assignment in grade school, but sometimes I would scribble out a story out of boredom in study hall. I remember writing one story that, in the back of my head, I thought would be published one day. It was supposed to be a chapter book, and the story revolved around a young boy waiting to receive a letter from his father who was in the war. To make a long story short, the letter would never arrive, the boy would grow into a man and live his life always wondering why the letter never came or whatever happened to his father. I still have the unfinished story in a folder hidden in my room. I saved it not in hopes of ever finishing it nor publishing it, but as a reminder; a reminder that just because a particular story never received its proper ending did not mean I could not move forward in pursuing my love for writing. I never considered myself as being an overly creative person. Arts and crafts were never my favorite things to do, nor did I relish in the idea of taking a concrete idea and somehow morphing it into an abstract representation. I remember a high school assignment required reading a book of my choosing and rather than writing the typical book report I was hoping for, I had to create an artistic display of the story being told. For the book I chose, Icy Sparks, I took an interest in the personal rhetoric of Icy and the story she was telling. Without ruining the book, I picked out her interests and every single label she and others placed on herself. I turned this assignment into a three-dimensional typographic display of a story from start to finish. Once I carefully made flags of words that meant something to Icy, I realized words could be art on their own. They did not need glitter to shine; they add sparkle all on their own. As it turns out, words have become my favorite art form. Through writing, I have found my creative niche. Each week, I have the opportunity to document my journey and tuck away a keepsake. From my childhood stories to my writing assignments, I have ended up here in this moment. It is far from a masterpiece, but all artists have to begin somewhere. I will look back at my collection of writing and be happy I saved them. It does not matter that some are unfinished or downright bad; all that matters is that all the same, good or bad, they were kept. A beloved necklace does not get tossed because of a broken clasp. I would rather have a jewelry box of well-worn jewelry than a jewelry box of jewelry for looks. A collection of writing does not have to be perfect; a piece of writing shows effort, thought, and wonder. The fullness in my heart after writing makes it seem like everything is right with the world at that moment. Nothing could ever replace the joy I have found in writing, and the bond of words cannot be broken. Just as I have fallen in love with words, the story they tell is mine to treasure and wear. So as I string them all together, I know my story will be beautiful because words are beautiful. Stay Curious, Kayla ©Inquisitive Perspectives 2016 There is no denying my love for quotes. Sometimes when I cannot find my own words to put together to describe how I am feeling, I find the perfect package within a quote from someone else. Nothing makes me happier than scrolling through Pinterest, for an undisclosed amount of hours, and saving powerful and inspirational quotes to pull out for a rainy day. I get all of the warm, fuzzy feels deep in my soul when I read a special quote. When it comes down to it, the people who are noted with credit for these quotes had a purpose for saying what they did. Their intent may not align with my interpretations of it, but that is the beautiful characteristic about quotes. Finding the meaning within the words is a magical experience, and it transports me to a new realm of art and literature. These quotes that I hold so dear tell my story better than I can. My appreciation for these words of expression goes beyond a marathon of pinning; they make me happy when I am having a hard day, and they put into words the thoughts my brain cannot connect. Happiness is having words resonate in my soul and having them leave a lasting impression. These treasured quotes may be their words, but they tell my story. Stay Curious, Kayla ©Inquisitive Perspectives 2016 The quest for finding life’s meaning continues. We need to feel the satisfaction of contributing a significant element to the modern world. Leaving our mark is as special as our fingerprint. No one is capable of leaving a mark on our behalf. Society may run on a point and rank system, but at the end of the day, we all play a special role, and we are individually important. We each hold deep within us a treasured gift. This gift is often meant to be our mission to act on. Early on in my life, I loved writing, and I could not wait to grow up so I could write. Somewhere along the way, I figured only grown-ups could be writers, but one day I challenged the meaning of a grown up and decided to be a writer at some point. Waiting for the most opportune time was the very excuse I was riding on to avoid disappointment and criticism. My young and naïve ego were my biggest obstacle in my placement in this world. Growing up, I was never told I could not pursue something I wanted to try, nor was I forced into pre-decided expectations. In my efforts towards deciding what I wanted to be when I grew up (whatever that really means), I went through the gamut of options from teacher to doctor and anything in between. My entire thought process for deciding my future was figuring out my passion and making an impact. Making an impact and helping others has been of the utmost importance to me, and in that, making an impact does not mean being in the spotlight. Leaving my mark on this world does not have the co-requisites of fame and fortune. Through my self-exploration and discovery, I knew my professional career of Speech-Language Pathology would be most fitting with my values, but my burning desire to become a writer was still ringing in my ear. The start of my professional career is relatively near, but still far enough away to warrant the pursuit of seeing what I could do with my passion for writing. I knew writing a book was not on my radar, so I went back to the idea of leaving my mark. What was the one unique thing I could do to express myself and fulfill my requirements of hopefully making a lasting difference? My personal platform was drawn to the idea of blogging. The form was simple; nothing had to be fancy or frilly. I could be real, genuine, and chronicle my perspectives of life. Publishing my thoughts and feelings to public media outlets has taught me to push myself. By putting myself in a vulnerable position, I have learned to be more conscious of how we each look at life differently and contribute different attributes. After some soul searching, my intentions were a mere attempt to bring some positivity to a gloomy day, but I have gained so much more than I ever could have imagined. What began in a moment of spontaneity, has developed into me diving deeper in declaring my mark on this world. This has been a humbling and inspiring experience. It is hard to comprehend that one little link has been clicked on worldwide, and in an instance, the vastness of the world brings us together as one. Through writing, I have learned to have an open mind, be aware of others’ views and beliefs, and to never be afraid to stand up for the things that matter most to me. And for those reasons and more, I will treasure my mark with a priceless value. Stay Curious, Kayla ©Inquisitive Perspectives 2016 |
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