Journal Entry 1

Just my own thoughts as I head back home after five years...

In France I learned a few things: that the metric system really isn’t as complicated as it first seems, the quality of food is exaggerated, the quality of women is not, and that no matter how far away from home you get, no matter how many years you spend away…you still miss it.

                Over fourteen hours on a plane has given me plenty of time to think. And by think, I mean reconsider the train of thought that led me to this decision. It’s a big part of why I’ve decided to start writing this journal. Too many thoughts running through my head. Something about flying on a plane makes it hard for me to concentrate on any “real writing”.

                I’m not quite sure why I’ve decided to share this with a bunch of strangers. Maybe I’m hoping for someone out there to tell me what I’m doing is the right thing. Then again, if someone were to tell me it’s not…well, I probably wouldn’t listen. Arabelle always told me I can be stubborn.

                And there’s the issue. The quality of French women really is something else…

                I should probably introduce myself. My name is Adam K. Nightingale and I’m a writer. I’m also an idiot. Which is a big part of why I’m on a bus heading from Charleston, South Carolina back to my old home. It’s been almost five years since I was last here. Everything looks the same. The roads are still lined on either side by an assortment of looming trees that have probably been scaring travelers since colonial days. The people still smile and wave and say hello with that familiar southern drawl that I seem to have lost over the years without ever realizing it.

                The bus that’s taking me out to Blythewood, my old homestead, is pretty empty; an old woman that’s yet to look up from the Dean Koontz novel in her hands, a couple adorned in an odd combination of piercings and tattoos (I can’t quite tell from this angle, but I think the guy has a dragon inked onto the right side of his face), and a fifty year old man whose only talked to me once to ask if I had a cigarette to spare. I do, but I said no. He had to hold a machine to his throat in order to ask the question. I think I did him a favor.

                Nothing to break my mind away from the regrets. Five years. Five years. Five years. No, typing it over and over doesn’t help make the time seem any longer. Nor does it take away the strange feeling of dread that’s been growing since I got off my flight a few hours back. I have a few half-written poems I’ll probably finish and put up later. I met this guy at the airport who told me about the website. What I’ve read so far seems pretty good. Arabelle wasn’t wrong when she said I needed to get my work out there.

                Fifteen minutes until I’m back home. I saw us pass by Terry’s old house. Memories. I remember fighting that kid in grade school in his front lawn, before his dad came out with a shotgun. He told Terry that if he didn’t whip my a*s he was going to shoot him. Great dad, huh? I let him bloody up my lip and we became good friends after that. I haven’t seen him since senior year. I wonder how he’s doing? It’s nearly one in the morning. Too early for all these memories. We’re going to pass the cemetery pretty soon. It’s way too early for that memory.

Author's Note

I wrote this partly on my flight and mostly on the long bus trip back home. It's been five years since I started my "vacation". Just trying to sort my thoughts out now that I'm back in the States. I spent most of my time in France, but I was also in India, Italy and the U.K for a little while. I'll try to put up new entries as often as I can. But since I write based off real life, it requires me to have something in real life worth writing about lol

Reviews

[Southern Cross]

It was short, as you promised. Could be a beginning chapter for a book. I like your simple, honest style. I read for pleasure and this gave me what I look for. My days of reading the classics were left in college and now just give me an easy, humble read to clear my mind and take me on a short journey. Write another entry and I shall look forward to reading it :)

[Knightingale]

I really hate getting caught up in unnecessary details. Life is better described through. simple thoughts that reflect deeper emotion. I'm glad you enjoyed it. This likely won't be a book. I'm writing one right now. Its a romance/drama/slice of life with a bit of humor to it. Its about an American woman who gains an inheritance from her grandmother in France. She leaves her the house and a rather large amount of money. On two terms. She must live and maintain the house and she must take care of her young cousin. Fresh out of college with no idea of what she's going to do she accepts. Living in a beautiful French town with tons of money and all she has to do is watch over her orphaned cousin. Who wouldn't? Turns out the kid is a handful. Plus she discovers that her grandmother was a uwriter who kept a journal on all the dirty little secrets of the people in town. That's where the humor comes in, as she gets to know everyone in the small French town. She ends up adding to her grandma's journal which is what you as the reader are reading.

[Knightingale]

That's the gist of it.

[Judy Basmaji]

You know talent when you read such simple words describing such regular events, and yet for some reason I can't grasp, it makes you cry. It was just so honest, simple words that are brewing with emotion coming straight from the heart. I truly believe you can make a book out of this, just personal experience. There are few things I love like journals, and this was absolutely captivating. My lifelong dream is travelling abroad someday, not for five years perhaps, but two or three, so if you ever decide to publish, you have one reader guaranteed :)

[Angel]

Wow.
Just
Wow.
I'm completely hooked. I want to hear more. More about your homecoming, more about your adventures in foreign lands, more about your life in France and the girl...no, the woman you left behind...
From what I've read so far, you are a truly magnificent writer.
Keep it comin', Knightingale...as a good friend of mine from the Cafe likes to say...
Write on!

[Knightingale]

Wow, thank you. I really mean that. You make it apl sound far more romantic and exciting than it felt at the time. There were definitely some exciting parts don't get me wrong. I guess things always look that way when you look at things from the outside.

[Rose of many colours]

Adam you are a born writer. journal 1 is a masterpiece.What is a testimony without a trial. I don't see five years of regret , I see five years of rich knowledge hidden to be shared . Our past helps shape our future , you have a rich past not many are privileged to it ,you are a man of strength and courage ,You are bold in your writing I am attracted to that. I am hungry for more.. your tongue is the pen of a ready writer , let the power of the ink take control. Thanks for bringing me into your private domain. Don't stop please....

[Knightingale]

You flatter me. Really. I have been privilaged to many great experiences in my past. None of which I'd give up. I'll likely share many of them in the future. My regrets come less from things I've done, and more from the fact that I've spent the last few years avoiding coming back.here. Running away is a character flaw I seem to have developed without realizing it. I'm glad you enjoyed this first journal entry. I'll admit I wasn't certain how to feel about putting it out here so everyone can see all my flaws.

[Rose of many colours]

I know how you feel.I read your profile. We share somethings in common. You will be surprised of the person I see in the real you...