vadarama

the digital home of Lauren Tyree

Introduction: First Day

You must pronounce my name Naomi, like what you call some of the females among you. I wouldn’t know how to convey the sound outside of my native language, but what have we lost? A label is no more than a shortcut. You should get to know me and call me what you will.

One is assigned a number at birth where I’m from. I understand it’s the same way here. If no record were kept, the threat of chaos would arrest us. And we all like to maintain order despite our vain demands for freedom. Anonymity is a romantic dream turned nightmare when realized.

I only know this because my own identity was a secret from all but the doctor and God for ten years. My mother and father got a clever tale and a free bundle of joy; I got a new life and a tough riddle to solve.

Our doctors back at home are above reproach, not obligated to the law of the land but trusted to make the right decision in every case. I’d like to change that condition, but no one ever asked me what I think before now.

So I’d like to thank all thirty-six of you for giving me this platform. You should know what a rare honor it is to be called upon by my peers. I have worked hard to finally arrive, and you’ve given me an even warmer welcome than expected. Your citizens have exceeded all my naive hopes.

Today we stand together on the brink of a new year ready to face the unknown. Ms. Brown is more a guide than a teacher, since our lessons will reveal themselves. Later, we will praise her for showing us the path. None of this should feel like a chore.

No matter what happens here, let’s all promise to be kind. I may struggle to catch up at times. Please forgive the ignorance that I will no doubt display. Just know that I never err without correction and I may on occasion seek your help in providing it.

You have my deepest gratitude, new friends, for agreeing to host me on Earth, for accepting the future with open hearts.

- Class speech, Cherokee High, 2026


If we were truly to work for something, we should work to have all guns banned in this country. Take the guns and the gas from the cops. Turn them out on foot with batons if necessary, but let them work in the community the way London bobbies work, sans firearms. Then they would have to deal with the kids vis-a-vis, face to face, and maybe, just maybe, they would have to start acting like human beings, not killing automatons.
— Harlan Ellison, May 22, 1970

How did we walk here? Like, when did we get here, and wait, did someone carry me? Brad! Wait, Brad! Did he carry me here? No, I walked all. by. myself. These shoes keep slipping off. I have to burp. How do you get rid of these hicc…ups?

Is it three already? How long were we at that one place? I left my napkin at the bar. I left it. I left it by the glass. Ugh, these noodles are, like, so good right now. So good, but, AGH, ORDER GYOZAS! HEY YOU GUYS, ORDER GYOZAS! GET GYOZAS! GYOZAS! HEY, GET SOME GYOZAS! ORDER GYOZAS! GYOZAS! because who cares? I ate, like, apples for lunch, anyway.

- gangly blond 20-something in pants, late Saturday night, Vietnamese chain restaurant

(actually vocalized words appear in all caps)




And so for a second time the earth was repopulated from a single family; and for a second time I will refrain from delving into thy prurient curiosity over whether or not this entailed the practice of ‘siblings with benefits.’
— God, Againesis chapter 10, verse 1, The Last Testament

personal statement of faith

i trust the ground i walk on

won’t crumble under my feet

that i have much in common

with everyone i meet

i take no day for granted

but do not fear the end

once my seeds are planted

the harvest will come in


Guess What Happened Today?

Dear Diary,

Guess what!!!! The absolute LOVE of my life is a man named Peter. We traded nods of quiet recognition while crossing Bumble Street this afternoon in front of Milly’s candle shop, and he was to completely DIE FOR in his pressed suit, slick hair and handy hotel conference name tag. He even looked like a Peter with that hair and those white teeth. I suppose Peter, Jr. would have the same smile. Maybe he can fit into the same suit one day? Of course I’m kidding, but I WILL report back to you the very MOMENT I spot him again, maybe on the same street, and AFTER I propose marriage on the spot. Oh, you know I wouldn’t do that!

Smitten,

Dotty


promise

shine your light

for all to see

a star atop

a christmas tree

share your life

with those you need

and always stop

to rest and breathe



Note to Self

it’s no fun to be a dreamer

in the name of self-defense

to retreat into

soothing delusions and what-if s

distracted by thoughts

of what really should be

rather than

making your peace with what is




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Common Characteristics of Natural Born, Freelance, or Career Writers

  • An “odd ball” childhood.

Writers tend to start off as peculiar kids. They never quite fit in with their classmates. Their abstract thinking begins early on, and it causes them to struggle to relate to other children and elementary interests. Future writers commonly start off as either lonesome or socially inept kids.

  • They were handed books as toys.

Naturally gifted writers are almost always reading enthusiasts. They have a further developed vocabulary and stronger syntax abilities because their scholastic experience goes beyond traditional curriculum.

  • They believe in the “All or nothing” policy.

Writers are often perfectionists that will edit until their eyes bleed or completely scratch an idea off the table. They tend to carry that trait into their other projects as well. The writer will either create something complete or nothing at all.

  • They take pride in their work.

Even if they need help, writers like doing their work 100% themselves without contribution. This is seen often in college, when the self-proclaimed writers don’t show up to office hours or ask for tutoring. Writers tend to treat even essays as a personal work of art. It’s their work, and it matters that it’s only theirs.

  • They are equally organized and disorganized.

A writer’s mind works in choreographed chaos. With too much chaos comes no productivity. With too much organization comes no passion. The writer has learned how to have the perfect combination of both.

  • They have both an ego and self-doubt.

-Enough ego to invest in one’s own thoughts, enough doubt to revise and rethink continuously.

  • They enjoy simplicity.

Hot coffee, music, and a sunrise could make their morning flawless.

  • They are observant.
Writers tend to learn about things from as many angles as they can. They’ll see the same sign for ten years and connect ten-thousand other separate things to the sign in that amount of time. They take in what they can and make a mental map of how things co-exist.
  • They  recognize the importance of memories.
Writers learn how to utilize past moments as criteria for their work. A writer will not forget their first love, or heartache.

Story is honorable and trustworthy. Plot is shifty and best kept under house arrest.
Stephen King, On Writing

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