During some of my darkest and loneliest moments I have always turned to writing.
It gave me endless space and place to do whatever I needed to do.
Since then I have actually have had some of my work published (under a pen name) in blogs, etc. and I was advised by couple of the editors to take some writing courses to polish my writing to further my talent.
Since this blog connects to my personal Twitter account and also due to the nature of my occupation, I'd like to keep some of my most private and personal thoughts/accounts just that way -- however, I thought it would be nice to hear some reactions from some of you on few of the pieces that are more PG rated.
Below is my assignment from my first week of my fall semester at UCLA extension; the topic was to write something that triggered your memory from my childhood, as the course is titled "Writing out of your Life ."
The alleyway next to the market was our playground.
Only big enough for one truck to pass at a time, we learned to ride our bikes there and mastered the climb on concrete wall that divided the area from the large parking lot.
When we poked that beehive in the old truck in the parking lot one too many times and my brother was too young to run away as his legs didn’t move fast enough and fell victim to the awful bee sting, the alley was where we ran to for safety.
The vending machine lined the end of the alley next to the market like a colorful rainbow – drinks appeared on the top of each machine like proud race horses, and in the middle was the electronic rings of the game that was installed. The idea was you may or may not win a free can of your choice once you purchased something if the red dot landed on a particular area.
We all lined up in a straight line the neighbor kids and us, during those humid summer days with one 100 yen coin in each hand, trying to see whether we should treat ourselves to one of the variety of ice cream instead; the big freezer in front of the market was like Narnia, so many goodies in the shape of a cup, a cone, on a stick, etc. much more attractive than the beer, sake cups and coffee drinks we weren’t allowed to have.
When you opened the sliding glass, a white cloud of air would puff up out of the contained white box making the whole experience of choosing an ice cream oh so magical.
We were all barely tall enough to look inside, but we took our time and enjoyed the process as we weren’t to have ice cream everyday.
The term market is loosely used as the store only sold sake, beer, and rice in the 10kg bags inside and some bottled tea.
For me, it was just the place to buy my grandma’s tea or when my grandpa or my dad wanted beer with dinner, or my own treat during the day when we were allowed.
I am told that the alleyway has been recently constructed into a condo building.
