Things That are Warm in the Night

           My twin-brother opened my door and told me that there was something wrong. He looked surprised, and even if it did jolt me, I took a second before turning my chair to look at him. He was dressed, and the light from his room glistened in the hallway's mirror.

           I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that something turned the fan on. Both him and his girlfriend were in bed, napping, and it just turned on without anyone pressing the button. It was his girlfriend who woke up first, then she turned over and shook him awake to see.

           Electricity can do that, though. If the device is used repeatedly after some time of service, energy can move through and power the device without having to be turned on. Think of it like a congested highway tunnel emptied of the rush hour crowd, ready to be used by locals.

           I did think of the times I felt someone in my room, however. Also, after returning from a trip to the gym, I found my pair of dumbbells stacked on top of each other, waiting for me on my desk chair. My blankets have even been pulled from me one night, too, but that's just what it felt like. It could've been me kicking them down.

           So I didn't say anything, and I just listened. When he was finished, I let him know to tell me if it happened again. The fan would turn on one more time before they left to his girlfriend's home, startled.

           It's always best to be a skeptic when anything supposedly paranormal occurs, whether at home or not. The fact that something as such happened is interesting, but nothing too much to raise an eyebrow for. Years of being a paranormal junkie have desensitized me to the littlest things, such as when I went to a haunted tour in San Francisco, and when the tour guide said we might've caught orbs, I simple shrugged and said, "it could be dust."

           He wasn't too happy that others grew discouraged.

           I've gone into my brother's room to see if the fan will turn on for me. It hasn't yet, but when he's gone and the Xbox is open for me to play, I'll go in and sit for a while, with Minecraft on the screen, waiting to see if the fan will turn on without one press of its controls.

Summer Travels

          Napa, California, was something more than what I expected it to be. At first, I had heard it was where tourists visited to taste wine, get drunk, then regret it and move on back towards their work schedules and lives. My friends made it sound as though it was a location filled with older people three-times my age and up taking photos to show their grandchildren. My grandmother had planned it, and while she is older, I didn't take what my friends had said and applied it to her. Instead, I went with an open mind, a legal pad, and a plan.
          My brother decided not to come with us, but that didn't stop the rest of us from enjoying ourselves. Of course, there's the wine, which starts at downtown Napa and leads up north past where he had stopped, a winery built within a renaissance-esque castle.

          But I wasn't there for wine. Instead, I was there with the opportunity to tell others I had been there, something much like the idea that it's more fun to have written than to actually write. I did taste wine, but it was too dry for me, and when I did find the wines I enjoyed, the one slipping my glasses gave me two bottles and a wave of the hand (I think my grandma bought three).
          Wine is not the only taste of Napa, we learned, as I had spotted a diner filled with people out the front and down near the curb. Stopping, we had lunch and the burgers, much to my expectations, were amazing. As a write, I would make up some excuse to return and draft a novel, or an article such as this. But I would return in actuality to this very stand, and I would have another of their delicious bacon-cheeseburgers.

          Throughout the trip, my legal-pad sat in my Mickey Mouse labled backpack, and stories bled out of me unlike anything I had experienced before. Driving up the 5 at the start, I thought of a man driving home from a business conference to a static-filled radio; however, in the static, he hears the world ending and his loved ones dying. While trying to find our hotel, I illustrated the conflicts faced within five pages and thought of a gas-station attendant too bored out of her mind that she helped us. I sit here now remembering these incidents and tales, and it feels as though I could push them out as one reads this.
          We left Napa only after a short stay and traveled to San Francisco, a city too close to my heart to forget. It's a different world in that several different cultures blend into one fondue of creativity, openness, and passion. Walking down the streets and seeing the filled cable cars demonstrates the passion these people hold while going to a Giants game. Visiting Milk Plaza and seeing a district built on rights and freedom is eye-opening to say the least. The music's not bad, either. In this way, traveling is an amazing way to see what's out there--artist, writer, student, or none.

          I travel with my family every summer, and even though some rides can be rough, the ability to capture an entire destination in words and pictures is astounding. Growing up, I never had the chance to see outside the walls of my family's homes. Now, as I travel to conferences, conventions, and possibly haunted locations, my life is able to become something much grander than what I had ever dreamed. Writers, spend some time out in the world and see what's out there to inspire you. Artists, visit the oceans, mountains, and sunsets, and capture it all in paint, sketch, or photography.
          Families, don't bring your six-year-old to Napa and ask him why he won't keep quiet. He won't, so just go with it, and write it down.