Airports

December 21, 2016… 8:27 p.m.

Kansas City Airport. So many different faces shuffling around. A boy, who looks lost, has past by my seat at least 5 times. Each time I see him, he seems more and more annoyed. I don’t blame him, it’s easy to get lost in here. People walking one way, people walking the other way. Everyone seems to be rushing somewhere. A couple stood at the self check in kiosks. The man kept checking his pockets and the woman was rummaging through her purse. “Where is my damn phone, Carson?”   “I don’t know, Derek, maybe you left it on the bus.”  I hope they’re not going on some kind of vacation together, because this would be a horrible start. A man sat across from me, he must’ve called at least 5 different people, and seemed extremely happy. A woman sat against the wall, her eyes closed. It seemed like this was the first time she got to truly relax in a really long time. I could tell her eyebrows are usually pulled together, because there was a crease. Another man is sitting alone. He keeps checking his phone and I can’t really tell if he’s doing it out of habit or if he's waiting for a message.We’ve made eye contact several times now, he doesn’t seem too happy. He seems very bitter. A family just came to sit in my area. The typical mom, dad, a son, and a daughter. They’re all blonde. The kids have the most adorable noses and eyes. They look like they’re excited for whatever their parents have promised them. However, the parents don’t seem like they’re in love. The husband kissed his wife’s cheek in the same manner that he helped his child up into the chair. I don’t think they’re having problems, I just don’t think they love each other the same way they did when they first met and decided to get married. A man just ran by, barely holding all his stuff, he must be running late… Every single person here ranges from messy grey on grey sweatpants and sweatshirt, to high heels and dressy trench coats. Really brings me to wonder, who are they? Where were they? Where are they going? Did the boy who was lost finally finally find what he was looking for? Did the couple who couldn’t find Derek’s phone, find his phone and make up? Is the man who called 5 different people, finally going back home to his family? What stresses out the woman with a crease between her brows? Why can she only finally relax at an airport? Is the bitter man who keeps checking his phone, in an argument with a loved one? And I wonder about the husband and wife who don’t seem to love each other… did they ever love each other? Was their marriage and an impulsive decision? And the man who ran past me… I wonder if he made it in time…

Airports are an amazing place to go. Inspiration for writing flows frown every corner. Every single person is going somewhere, or coming home. Every single person has a story. Something has led up to them arriving at that airport with wide eyes and toothy grins. 

In the dozens of times that I have visited the airport, I have seen so much. Someone running into their parents’ waiting arms. Someone, just married, excited for the adventures awaiting them. Someone hugging a loved one, with tears streaming down their face like a river. Someone getting broken up with in the middle of the airport. So many beautiful people that I’ll never know, and beautiful stories that I’ll never hear. We often allow ourselves to just think that there is uno world outside of us and our personal problems, but that’s not true. This world is full of unwritten stories, just waiting for someone to pick up a pen and paper and turn it into something.

Writing as a Gift

Dear Versaviya,

I honestly don't even know where to start. You're amazing, and kind, and beautiful. You are a wonderful person and I'm so blessed to have you in my life. I appreciate all that you do for me, and any time we spend together is never dull. Our friendship has gone through quite a pickle jar, yet we're still holding on tight. 

I know you were worried about drifting apart after Oleg died, but I don't think that could happen. The only reason Max and Oleg drifted apart was because Max moved away. I know it still is possible but with a friendship like ours, there's almost no point in worrying. 

I remember when we were friends but not really, and hanging out was always awkward, but now you are my family and I look forward to our coffee nights like no other. I know that with school and work we don't really see each other as often as we'd like to, but we still make as much time for each other as possible. And whenever we do, we have a blast. Whether we literally just take a nap, or get side boob tats. The majority of my good memories have been made with you... And you know, we're still young so I intend on making a whole lot more.

This letter is all over the place, but the point is, I love you. You're insanely important to me and I really hope that I never lose you the way that Max lost Oleg. You're not allowed to die before me, or any time soon.

Stay golden, my dude

Yours truly,

Anastasiya Istomina

Final Reflection

1. Throughout this semester, we've written quite a lot. One of my favorite pieces was the one I wrote about the ocean needing to let its emotions out. 

2. When I read this question, what comes to mind is the MSU Writing Conference. I may not have read any work there, but I heard a lot. Every single shared piece of writing had so much depth and beauty. One girl shared a piece, telling people to just be honest with her. She was absolutely amazing, and so was her writing. It was very hard to listen to without tearing up and wanting to cry a little bit.

3.Setting up this blog was a fun and cute experience. Coming up with the name wasn't too hard, Elysian Visions is like relating to a heavenly characteristic, and I think that the feeling of writing is like a form of paradise on earth, so I think it goes. Sharing my work with the world seems crazy yet awesome. I don't know if anyone cared to look, but I know a pen pal from Russia did, and that's already pretty insane. Someone across the globe read something that I wrote. I will definitely continue using this blog, to post pieces that I may write in the future.

4.Journaling is my safe haven. My journal is full of angsty teen rants and very edgy pieces about sad things. I will continue to journal. I will forever continue to journal. Even when I'm dead, I'll turn over in my grave and write edgy poems on the side of my coffin. I will write about life, and death. Happiness and sadness, loneliness and fullness, new friendships beginning and old friendships dying. I will write about anything that crosses my mind, blossoms my mind, or breaks my mind. I will write, and write, and write, until my hands fall off.

5.  That was the day I met her. I was alone, watching the musical, but when I glanced to the side, I saw her. She was also alone. Her brown hair fell on her  face and her bright smile lit up the room. She turned her head, and for a brief second, our eyes met. My entire body lit up on fire, but it felt bitter sweet. I was sure she didn't notice me, but after the show I heard a kind voice. 'I'm Amelia."

And the rest, as they say, is history.

6. Some people are afraid of the ocean.

The cold breeze tearing at their cheeks,

the freezing fingers reaching towards their bare feet,

and the mighty waves crashing into the boulders.

Some people think the ocean's great rage is scary.

But it's not like that at all,

everything is beautiful if you look at it right.

The ocean's anger isn't something to fear,

it is merely an emotional storm.

The violent and beautiful sea has to cry, too.

Even the invincible ocean 

needs a minute to just scream and throw something.

All the pent up rage needs to escape,

and it's beautiful. 

7. I suppose I will continue to write "creatively."  I get a whole lot out of it, because when I write creatively I could have a very deep meaning but all I'm talking about is colour. This slightly differs from the writing I do in my personal journal because when I'm angry or crying and slamming the ink into the paper, it doesn't matter to me if my words flow or where my inspiration came from.

8. Hey, you! You're awesome. Your writing is awesome, even if it's not everyone's "style"! You keep doing you, and don't let anyone tell you that you're not worth something. You are one in 7 billion, as Randy Bacon had said. No one will ever be exactly like you. You are extraordinary. And anyone who doesn't see that, is not worth your time.

9.Even in the hardships,

a beautiful melody flowing

will make your heart sing.

Music can save

a lost soul, 

and heal a broken heart.

Even when everything is hopeless,

music gives you hope.

When the tunnel seems darker than ever,

music turns the light on.

A Recipe For Heartbreak

Heartbreak

1 Boy

1 Girl (Unless otherwise preferred)

3 years of life

1 happy relationship

1 engagement

1 or 2, or maybe 5 changes of plan

1 breakup

Directions: The first thing you're going to want to do is meet a person of interest, and become friends with them. About 2 years into the friendship, you're going to fall deeply in love with said person. Shortly after making the happy relationship official, you're going to have to visit each other in your home towns. Multiple times throughout the year. THEN, the boy is going to want to buy a gorgeous ring and propose to said girl (unless otherwise preferred). The wedding planning will start then, and the happy relationship will be happier than ever. So while all this is happening, the boy is going to start changing his mind. Changing plans. Maybe even start drifting away. The sweet boy you had at the beginning has turned kind of bitter at this point. So once that happens, you're going to shove your hand into the girl's chest and just grab hold of her heart. Very slowly and steadily you're going to be pulling it out of her. The boy is going to start being rude, careless, distant, and heartless. So give that about 2 months, and then finally rip the girl's heart out completely. That's when she finally dumps his disrespectful ass.

The End

Enjoy your heartbreak. 

Rough Draft- Moving Away

Dedicated to all my amazing nieces and nephews.

Especially those who have moved away.

Mommy says we have to pack our boxes.

She says we have to go, but i don't want to leave my friends.

Mommy says I'll make new friends,

but I'm still afraid.

It's finally time to leave our home,

and we finally arrive at our new house.

My new room is beautiful, but still empty.

As the days go by, my room started filling up.

But my heart still missed my old friends.

Today was the first day of my new school.

I did not know anyone.

At lunch I sat alone,

but a girl came up to me.

We started talking.

And she gave me her phone number.

Turns out moving isn't that bad after all.

Anastasiya Istomina was born in Bishkek, Kyrgyztan. She's residing

in Springfield, Missouri. She's interested in videography and writing.

(back cover blurb)

Moving is a scary thing,

but making friends could make

it better!

About The Author

Anastasiya Istomina was born in Bishkek, Kyrgyztan. She grew

up bruised and muddy, and loved a good story.

Aside from videography and blogging, she also 

spends a lot of time and puts effort into writing.

To see some of her work, check out

http://avistomina.blogspot.com/

and

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5_feObNhIBlQ_7lb8Nq6Sg

Books For Kids- The Very Sleepy Pig

The book I chose was called The Very Sleepy Pig and was written by John  Malam.

The characters in this book included the: rooster, cow, sheep,

duck, hen, and the very sleepy pig. The setting of this story is a cute and cozy farm.

Basically what happens in this book, is the pig wakes up after every one has already taken

advantage of the morning farm. The cow has already eaten the grass, the chicken laid an egg

in the hay, and the duck washed its feet in the water. The pig gets annoyed that 

everyone gets the best of the morning, so the next day he wakes up even before

the rooster has a chance to wake up all the other animals. This book, obviously, has animals

as characters. It teaches a lesson, while also using colourful illustrations.

I think this book would be perfect for children between the ages of 4 to 6, because they

have to start waking up early for school.

My favorite line in the book was,

"All the other animals would jump out of their beds straightaway.

But Pig just went on sleeping."

Childhood- Comments

That's so funny, I also had a reoccurring dream as a child, except mine was about an orange robot dog that turned to life and chased my family!

I didn't collect basket ball cards or anything sporty, but I had a killer rock collection :)

Dexter's Laboratory was also one of my favorite shows, I loved it :) And I also got in a pretty gnarly bike accident, but I didn't bruise my face, I cut open my knee and elbow.

Childhood Memories

When I was a little kid, I got along really well with my family. I'm the youngest, by far. My relationship with my brother was pretty good, not as good as it is now, but we used to get along so well as kids. We would play with action figures and he'd always find a way to win, even if it meant bending the rules. My relationship with my sisters was also a lot different from now. Since I'm so much younger than them, when I was a kid they were like my moms. They always did everything they could to help watch me, and they love me a lot, so they always bought me stuff and it was pretty great. My relationship with my parents was also really great. I wasn't too crazy, so I never had anything to hide. And my mom says I was always really calm and slept a lot so I can't imagine that I was too hard to get along with...
     I grew up with around a bunch of guys because my older brother always had his friends over. When I was a kid, it was an okay thing. But today, I "know" that if a girl and a guy are friends, it makes the girl slutty or the guy a player. I wish I didn't "know" that. I wish that I could take back the moment that that even became a thing. I'm not like one of those people that will say, "There's less drama with guys!" It's just an odd concept to me that "girls and guys can't be just friends" because I grew up with guys and would go adventure with them. It wasn't a big deal then, I don't know why it should be now.
        I always wanted to be in the dental field, and for one of my birthdays I got a tooth brush and tooth paste. I feel like most kids would be mad or upset, but I was beyond excited. It was the greatest thing that could've possibly been given to me. My second most amazing childhood birthday was when I got a "princess chest" that had a whole bunch of princess dresses in it. I loved playing dress up.
     If I could go back to a certain age and start over, I'd go back to my 7th birthday. That was the first birthday that I spent in Missouri, and if I could have a redo, I would. Of course, only if I still had the knowledge that I have now so that some things could be prevented. SO much I would do differently if I could.  

Dan In Real Life

Watching Dan In Real Life really reminded me of my own family.

We're all up in each other's business all the time, in a nice way. We also have 

a lot of family activities, almost similar to Dan's. And if I really get deep into

relating, I'm genuinely the Dan of my family. I'm really awkward and weird

and it's a great time.

When Dan said, "Life is full of disappointments." I totally agreed with him.

No matter how precise our plans are, things can go wrong, and we may

be disappointed. I deal with disappointment by writing in my journal and 

trying to find the bright side of the clearly dark situation.

In my opinion, a hottie isn't always someone who looks good. It's someone 

who's kind, respectful, and very passionate. I imagine someone who values culture 

and religion as much as I do.

I definitely do think that teenagers are hard on their parents. We often forget

how much our parents really do for us. Teenagers are typically just angsty 

dorks who think the world revolves around them, and it takes them a while

to figure out that that's not how it is at all.

I think it's true that some people can't handle the truth. I prefer the ugly truth to

sugar coated lies, but my parents seem to disagree. When my grandpa died,

they didn't tell me. They played it cool around me. I found out from my sister. I

was pretty upset about that because that's the kind of news that I would 

like to know.

Hopper Inspired- Paul and Beth

It was a late Tuesday night, and Paul had finally gotten home from work.

Of course he was hungry, tired, and on edge. It had been an extremely long day 

and he was ready to end it. However, sometimes Paul forgets that his

wife has bad days, too. He tracked mud in the house, he dropped his jacket on 

the couch, and he barked at his wife to get dinner ready.

His wife, Beth, was a patient woman, but today she wasn't having

Paul's crap. She crossed her arms, and if you stood too close to her,

you could probably feel the anger radiating off of her.

Her eyebrows arched a little too much, and her nostrils flared. 

"You know what, Paul? Why don't you get dinner ready yourself?"
It's definitely up to interpretation whether she was standing up to herself,

or if she fueled the fire. Paul wasn't expecting sass from her and he 

came up to her, extremely close, 

"Because I am not a woman," he snapped.

In a fraction of a second, Beth's hand was flying through the air

and making lovely contact with the skin on Paul's face. 

Paul may have been the man of the house,

but Beth was the neck.

And the head doesn't turn in either direction without the neck.

The neck supports the head.

The head is nothing without the neck.

So that chilly Tuesday night, 

Paul would not be sleeping in the same house as Beth.

Paul wandered the streets, tugging on his jacket to keep his hands

warm. He kept replying the situation through his head,

picturing how things could've went down differently if he had just

remembered that everyone has feelings, and that regardless of how

he's feeling, he should respect his wife. 

It was a long night for Paul, but Beth was in a bad place, too.

She kept worrying, had she fueled the fire? Should she have slapped him?
Should she had kicked him out for the night?
Relationships are more important than pride.

You have to forget about yourself sometimes and make sure

that you take care of your relationship.

Paul and Beth realized that, that night.

Window Poem

Straight ahead,

is the hippie neighbor's house.

To the left,

are the four white shelves,

multiple framed memories

line them.

Today something's missing.

The neighbor isn't out.

I always see him in the afternoon,

getting fresh air.

The sun shines bright,

almost blindingly,

and a gust of wind 

brings down the remaining leaves.

I cannot see, 

but if I try hard enough,

I can imagine my boyfriend,

looking out his window,

and thinking of me, too.