Lifestyle: Annie Fay Blog

Encinitas, CA

11/3/2019

This week I am sharing a brief creative writing assignment I did for my Fiction Workshop. We were asked to consider voice through personifying a place we know extremely well. I chose to write my paragraph about Encinitas, California. Enjoy (:

I lick the sandpaper shoreline with each kiss from my blue tongue. The toes of children gleefully run from my foamy, white lips that bubble at their ankles. They chase the seagulls and pelicans that fly through my sky as I watch from the lush green mountains, my hair cascading down past my eyes in the form of jasmine and bougainvillea. Houses, shops, and restaurants all colored by wood and time decorate my dress. The wheels of the bicyclists along the Pacific Coast Highway tickle my outstretched arms and I embrace their presence, offering them full lanes, putting their needs above the people in their cars. My heart, the sunshine, radiates from outside of my body showering the city in a subtle warmth, like an Easy-Bake Oven. I sing the song of wind through palm tree fronds and buzz along with the jellyfish; if you listen closely you can hear me. If you stick your tongue out at the ocean's edge you can taste me. If you rest your hand upon the grassy floor you can feel me. If you inhale the scent of freshly brewed black lavender tea you can smell me. And if you stare into the horizon, just as my heart has descended beyond view, you just might be able to see me—a green flash across the sky.

Encinitas, CA (:

© Annie Fay Meitchik. All Rights Reserved. All content on anniefay.com is my own or credit is given when applicable, please do not use any of my images before contacting me above or @ anniefaymeitchik@gmail.com.

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Awestruck, She Whispered

7/28/2019

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This past week in my Mechanics of Writing class we were asked to read "The Lottery" (1948) by Shirley Jackson and then write our own stories with surprise endings. This is mine. Enjoy.

Awestruck, She Whispered

Elowen delicately lifted a pearly white hand towards the crystal doorknob. With a subtle twirl of the wrist, the door swung ajar. The open threshold acted as a window into a new world. Awestruck, she whispered, “I’ve never seen anything like this.” And she truly hadn’t.

Before her, hills stretched out as far as the eye could see. Except, unlike the grass covered hills she was accustomed to, these hills were purple and soft lilac colored feathers sprouted from the earth. Elowen took two steps beyond the doorway, and immediately began to float mere inches above the ground. What she thought were butterflies dusted past her but on closer examination she noticed that they were giraffes, only an inch or two in height with colorful wings like those of a monarch.

Elowen’s doe-like eyes followed the whimsical creatures in wonder before settling on the sky. This sky was such a peculiar thing. All at once, a wave seemed to roll out of nowhere and a pelican swooped gracefully over the ripple, catching a fish in it’s mouth—upside down. In other areas of the sky, where Elowen expected clouds to drift past, patches of green grass shot up, housing trees which towered down from the sky above.

Elowen playfully ran her fingertips across the leaf of a willow tree, and to her astonishment, each of the green leaves danced at her touch, as if they were being tickled. Once they settled, their color collectively shifted to a happier shade of peach. At the sight of it, Elowen thought aloud, “Peaches sound lovely right now.” As her words left her tongue, a juicy aroma entered her flared nostrils. She inhaled with eyes closed. All of the air, sky, and sea around her smelled of peach pancakes.

She heard someone calling her name from the house and noticed a thin wisp of smoke making its way towards the ocean from the chimney. “Pancakes,” Elowen laughed.

= =

“Pancakes!” she yelled, “Elowen, breakfast is ready.”

Elowen sleepily replied, “Of course, mom!” before snoozing the alarm on her nightstand, “Just 15 more minutes…”

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I am for art...

7/21/2019

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This week in my Writing for Artists class we read "I am for an Art" by Claes Oldenburg. Using his essay as inspiration, we were asked to write our own manifestos about the kinds of art we would like to see and create in the world using a mixture of abstract and concrete imagery. We were also encouraged to provide examples of our art—videos, photos, paintings, or dance.

This is what I created. Enjoy!!

I am for art...

#1: I am for art you can check out of libraries—worn pages, free inspiration, riveting stories, and calls to action.

#2: I am for art that gets buried underground, only to sprout up in the spring.

#3: I am for art that hugs your fingers and decorates your hands with copper, gold, silver, and stone.

#4: I am for art that turns your fingernails purple, blue, yellow, pink, and orange.

#5: I am for art that reflects your face; mirrors, puddles, and polished elevators.

#6: I am for art that zooms past you underground, blowing air as it comes to a halt.

#7: I am for artists that explore make believe worlds and invent imaginary people.

#8: I am for the art that is interactive—art where people can write their own messages on walls, attach locks to chain link fences, or throw coins into fountains.

#9: I am for the artist that defies logic—24 hour films that test human psychology and our inability to avoid constructing a story out of unrelated events.

#10: I am for the artists that empower girls.

#11: I am for the artists that make me laugh.

#12: I am for an art that dips string in buckets of soap and lets the wind make translucent, hollow, rainbow spheres in the sky.

#13: I am for art that uses every color of the rainbow.

#14: I am for an art that you control with black and white keys.

#15: I am for art that transcends through car speakers to vibrate your core.

#16: I am for the art of driving an extra lap around the block to hear the end of a good song.

#17: I am for an art that starts out as words on a page and turns into drawings.

#18: I am for art that winds up on homework assignments, to do lists, and lecture notes.

#19: I am for art at the bottom of backpacks—receipts, tea packets, tangled headphones, and melted candy.

#20: I am for art that exists only in memories—sand castles, conversations, and elementary school poetry.

#21: I am for art that takes our world and shrinks it—Old victorian style doll houses with miniature furniture, plants, and people.

#22: I am for art that collects dust.

#23: I am for art that is only beautiful because it exists in large quantities displayed together.

#24: I am for the art of hiding love notes in suitcases—tucked inside the pages of a book, under underwear, and behind the camera case.

#25: I am for an art that scoops foolish bumble bees out from turquoise swimming pools with bare hands and sprigs of grass.

#26: I am for the art with wet skin and dripping hair.

#27: I am for art that I will never have the tools to create; bee hives, sunsets, and seafoam.