I've Learned Some Things

I literally just finished taking my last final for my Fall Semester classes. I have been putting off my Astronomy final for a week and today was the last day to take it. I'm actually quite pleased with my score. When compared with most of my grades this semester, a B does not really look fantastic, but I learned much more from that class than the six or seven phases the universe went through during the first few nanoseconds of its existence. That class taught me about myself more than anything else.

Coming into college in August, I did not believe a single word of what my mom and my various teachers in the past had told me about college being completely different. I truly did not think that I would have to work any harder than I did in high school (which was not hard at all.) It took a while for the realization to sink in that I would have to learn study skills and I would be challenged like I had not been in the past.

I still have not quite figured out the best way for me to study. I know that it is going to require more preparation than what I attempted to use this week for my finals. I know that it will mean that I have to force myself to prioritize better. I also know that I cannot work in a messy space, which means I am going to have to clean my bedroom more often.

In the mess that I created by not studying this semester, I may have lost my full-tuition scholarship. It is not something that I am proud of. In fact, I have spent a lot of time hating myself over it in the last couple weeks. I made a decision yesterday, though. If I do lose my scholarship, I am not going to keep beating myself up over it. I made some bad decisions this semester. Those decisions have created consequences that are probably going to affect me for a very long time. Continuing to be angry at myself over the situation will not help me do any better next semester, though. The most important thing is that I learned from the experience.

Anyway, my first semester at WSU has been a little crazy. Now I have three weeks off of school before I start an even heavier course load next semester. Plan to see me blogging a little bit more during that time. I definitely have some ideas floating around in my head that need to be recorded.

Public-Personal Diaries

So this is the last paper that I have to turn in for my English 2010 class. It's a research/analysis paper about why people blog... Somehow, it's turned out to have a slightly negative tone toward it. I obviously do not dislike blogging... I've kept this blog for five years now. I like blogging. Anyway, here it is. Read it or not. Feel free to let me know what you think if you read it, though.

Public-Personal Diaries

      People have kept personal journals in some form since the beginning of time. Some of the journals have even become an important part of history. Anne Frank’s journal that she kept during World War II while she was in hiding with her family is one of them. Still, most journals were not created with the intention of having the whole world read them. In the last fifteen years, however, the expanding popularity of blogging has placed the personal diary on display for the whole world to see.

     Su-Houn Liu, Hsiu-Li Liao and Yuan-Zeng, researchers at Chung Yuan Christian University, define blogging as “a Web site where journal entries are shown in reverse chronological order and usually provide access to their archives and a way to post comments” (Liu 232). Blogs are written with a large variety of purposes. Some blogs are a form of news while others act as a forum for communication. Even more blogs fit the description that Brian Williams made, “Diaries once sealed under lock and key are now called blogs and posted daily for all those who care to make the emotional investment” (Williams 449).

     Beginning in the late 1990s, the most common type of blog was used to express the American idea that “if it has to do with you, or your life, it’s important enough to tell someone” (Williams 449). As a society, we value ourselves and think that other people should also value the things that happen to us and what we have to say about these events. As a result of this narcissistic behavior, many blogs are created to share the content of a person’s life with whatever part of the world is willing to listen. The internet is such a large place that there is bound to be someone interested and if not then they will have a public place to say whatever they want without the real world consequences of it. Blog writers, or bloggers, can take their lives online and may receive comments or not depending on whether readers have anything to say. This may be why many even continue to write for long periods of time with no evidence of having any audience whatsoever. The act of blogging is like talking to yourself in a crowded room and hoping someone will overhear and find it interesting enough to respond.

     Heather Armstrong began her popular blog in February of 2001 without any expectation of having a large readership. “I launched dooce.com as a place to write about pop culture, music, and my life as a single woman. I never expected more than a couple of dozen people to read it” (Armstrong). Her topics ranged from things like Carnation milk to the men that she had dated. She was also living in Los Angeles and had a full time job. At the time, her blog was merely a hobby.
     Armstrong is one of many bloggers who began with the intention of just writing as something to do. Her blog was a place for her to write down what was going on in her life. Even though she was not expecting many people to read it, she was likely hoping to generate some sort of feedback. However, after blogging about some of the less pleasant aspects of her job, Armstrong was fired when someone anonymously emailed the Vice Presidents of the company. Later that same day she wrote a blog asking this question “At what point does my personal website, regardless of what I’ve published on the site affect my professional life?” (Armstrong)
     Now, ten years later, Armstrong and her family rely on her blog as their primary source of income. She has added marriage, children, and life as a professional blogger to her ever growing list of topics and has a much larger readership than before. Over the years, she has adapted her blog to the changing situations in her life.

     The NieNie Dialogues is another blog that was created with the intention of being a hobby for its writer, Stephanie Nielson. Her blog began ten years ago as a place for her to write about her life with her husband and daughter in Arizona. There was no greater purpose to her blog than having somewhere to show off pictures that she took and share moments of her life with whomever would read it.

     When Nielson and her husband were in a plane crash in August 2008, she was forced to stop writing. Over 80% of her skin was burned, and she was in a coma for three months. During the time that she was in the hospital, Nielson’s sister C-Jane (another well-known blogger) took over the blog. C-Jane updated readers on Nielson’s health and reposted older posts of Nielson’s that were indicated as favorites by her readers.

     In January of 2009 readers were shocked when Nielson came back saying “It’s true. I am alive.  I look different. I walk slow...and type slower.  But it’s good to be back!” (Nielson) Now Nielson is a well-known inspirational blogger, often writing things like “I guess that is why we live each day with faith so when and if something happens to us, we are prepared… It’s not easy, it’s actually a huge challenge… but it is possible and a much easier and happier way to live” (Nielson). Despite the fact that her blogs are filled with punctuation and grammatical errors, her fans continue to read her blog. They continue to read because they are interested in what she has to say.

     When bloggers continue to write over a long time period, it often becomes necessary for them to adapt to changes within their lives and their readership. The tone behind Nielson’s blogging changed significantly after her accident, becoming more inspirational and grateful for every single experience she has in her life. However, she also discusses the difficulties that arise from living with such a tragic injury.
     Armstrong adapted her blog when it became her job. She posts more blogs a day now than she did when she originally began writing. The posts are still short and easy to follow. They are still humorous much of the time and give her readers a sense of who she is. However, they are no longer purely a hobby. Armstrong posts to her blog because it is what keeps her and her family financially sound.
     It was when Armstrong began making an income from her blog and her audience increased that her purpose in blogging changed. In fact, Nardi et. al found in their research that “blogs create the audience, but the audience also creates the blog. This linkage happen[s] in a number of ways: friends urging friends to blog, readers letting bloggers know they were waiting for posts, bloggers crafting posts with their audience in mind, and bloggers continuing discussions with readers in other media outside of the blog” (Nardi 224 ). Not only did Armstrong have to adapt to the changes in her life, but she had to adapt to the popularity of her blog.  The audience that follows her blog no longer have to wait a week or more for her to post something new as they would have in the past. Armstrong is able to write or post pictures multiple times a day because it is her full time job. If she were to stop posting as, her readership would probably drop as they looked for blogs that suited their immediate interest.
     While Nielson and Armtrong’s blogs both have fairly large readerships, there are even more blogs that do not. In fact, according to Liu, Liao and Zeng, there were over 73 million blogs on the internet in 2006, a number that was growing at a rate of 175,000 blogs daily. Most of these blogs are written by people who have not had any extraordinary life event happen to generate readers. So why do these people continue to blog? According to Liu’s research “bloggers ranked pouring out feelings and connecting with people respectively, as their two most valued rewards” (Liu 234). Simply having a space to put their thoughts, emotions and daily experiences outweighs having someone comment on what they are saying.
     This idea that a person’s blog is their space in which they can keep any and every thought they want written down may be why more and more people blog every day. Blogs do not truly belong to the people who are writing them, though. In fact, as David Teten says, “most hosting companies, including blog hosting companies, also have terms of service that are more restrictive than free speech limits” (Teten 474). Bloggers can often find themselves in trouble, whether from the hosting websites or from their readers, when they write based on the idea that they can say whatever they want. What they probably do not consider is what would happen if their online secrets were to be discovered.
     As Armstrong demonstrated when she wrote about the company she was working for, bloggers can write about whatever they please but within limits and with possible consequences. Teten points out that “most hosting companies, including blog hosting companies, also have terms of service that are more restrictive than free speech limits, typically restricting hate speech and pornography” (Teten 474). The general idea here is that as long as bloggers are directly slandering anyone or graphically offending them, they are free to discuss whatever they want. This does not eliminate the real world consequences of their words, though.
     There is no guarantee that what is written on a blog will remain on a blog. Bloggers take a risk when they choose to post their personal lives to the internet. Just as bloggers often adapt their writing to the events that are occurring in their lives, sometimes they are forced to adjust their lives to the consequences of the things they have written when an unwanted audience reads them.
     No matter how anonymous blogs may seem, they really are public archives subject to a complicated web of bloggers and readers. “People typically [find] blogs through other blogs they [are] reading, through friends or colleagues telling them about their blogs or those of others or through inclusion of the blog URL in an instant message profile or a homepage” (Nardi 224). The results of this constant sharing are large blogging communities of bloggers and readers who have similar interests. If a blogger is followed by someone they know offline, then it would not be difficult for others in their lives to hear of the blog and to see what is written on it. The consequences of someone offline discovering online secrets are not often at the forefront of a blogger’s mind when they are writing. They are simply putting their lives out there for others to see, whether they meant to or not.
     In a society as individualistic as ours, it is no surprise that people want everyone around them to care about what is going on in their lives. Blogs provide people with a place to write or post anything that they want in a way that anyone in the world who is interested can see it. While blogging often begins as a hobby, many long-time bloggers find that their blogs adapt into something more specific, like the inspirational words offered by Stephanie Nielson or the humorous commentary that is found on dooce.com. Still others continue to blog for the simple value of having somewhere to put their emotions and to write about their lives. These public, personal diaries are often created with a single purpose but usually end up being something quite different for each person who writes one. Bloggers are forced to adapt to change just as all other people in the world are forced to adapt to their environment and the other people around them.

Have a Random Fact About Me Because I'm Happy Right This Second...

Colbie Caillat's first album, Coco, is one of my top favorite albums of all time.

<3

Uncertainties

My life is weird lately. For a while now, I've felt kind of... Off. A lot of is still this whole process of adjusting to being in college. Everything is so different. For the first time ever I'm spending almost all of my time by myself. I go to class and I sit quietly because I don't have friends in any of my classes. I go to work and stay quiet because it is very seldom that I work with the one person that I really talk to there. I come home and it's usually late enough that everyone has gone to bed. I spend a few minutes here or there talking to some person in my class or someone in my family before I go back to doing whatever it is on my own.

The whole thing isn't good or bad. It's just different. All through high school I was pretty much constantly talking to people. I was incredibly social. Then I would come home and spend most evenings with my family. I was only working three days a week at the time, so nobody really knew me well enough to talk to me. I was usually sent home early, anyway.

So I feel a little weird about my life. I spend a lot of time just thinking about things and I have no idea where these thoughts have led me at this point. The balance between work and school and home has shifted so much. I don't really know who my friends are or where I fit in my world anymore. I don't really know what I want with my life, present or future.

I don't really even have the words to explain much more than that...

Two more weeks and then I have three weeks off of school. Maybe I'll be able to figure out where my head is then.

Just a Little Something

     Melanie was tired of running. She had been running since the day she turned 12 and she was sick of it. There had to be something out in the world worth staying for. If it had ever been up to her, she would have stayed. But her mom was always moving them. Every couple of months they would pack up and move again. New house. New school. New town. Six years of moving and all Melanie wanted was for something in her life to stay still.


This little bit of writing has been stuck in the back of my head for a week now. I don't know what it is yet. Maybe it's part of what would have been my NaNoWriMo novel had I had time to participate this year. It started off as a train piece in my mind. Maybe that's what it will continue to be. I'm not sure. Either way, I wanted to put it out there just to see if anyone thought anything of it.

A Society of Roosters

This is a paper that I wrote for my English 2010 class. The assignment was to analyze an element of popular culture. My topic, inspired by my mom, was feather hair extensions. I'm really proud of this paper because I thought that I had no understanding of what my professor wanted, but it turns out that I did really well. My first college paper and I received an A. :)

The idea of hair extensions is not unique to modern society. Men in ancient Egypt would wear them in order to show their wealth and status. Women also wore them for similar purposes in 19^th century Europe. However, the hair extensions of those times were actually made of hair. These days, the most popular form of extensions is actually rooster feathers. These feather extensions have become fairly common, not just among teenage girls, men and woman of all ages.

With the many different colors that they come in, these feathers become a way for people to express themselves. The feathers do not get ruined when people straighten, curl or wash them, which make them even more customizable. They can be used to represent the colors of a sports team or one’s own personal style. People put a lot of thought into the feathers that they put into their hair because, to them, the extensions have a bigger purpose than just looking cool. They can even further express themselves by putting multiple, different feathers in one place.

When my sister started considering getting feather extensions, she spent two weeks looking at the different options and deliberating over how hers were going to look. It was a big decision because the feathers are expensive (anywhere from $15 to $50 depending on how many and what kind) and, more importantly, because they were going to be in her hair for six to eight weeks. She considered getting blue ones that would represent her school pride at her graduation or natural colored ones that would match with anything she wore. In the end she got a red one because it was a way for her to express that there was more to her than her clothes may suggest. She wanted people to look at her differently, and she thought that the feather in her hair would accomplish that goal.

This is largely the appeal of these feather extensions. When they first appeared, it was a little strange and not something that everyone had. They are reminiscent of birds that use their colorful feathers to grab the attention of potential mates. People saw the feathers that others were wearing and considered them a more exotic way to add color to hair than getting highlights. My grandmother had feather extensions put in her hair at the same time as my aunt and young cousin did. For her, they represented youth and showed that she did not fit into the stereotype that some people would try to put her in.

Though people may get these extensions thinking that it will change how others look at them, they end up being more personal. Most people do not look at an older woman with feather extensions and think ‘Wow, that woman is really fashionable for her age.’ In fact, most people probably would not spend much time thinking about it at all. The main thing that these feathers do for people is allow them to change their own ideas about themselves.

Since feather extensions are not really supplied by any one manufacturer, there is no real advertising for them. Instead, independent hair salons rely on the endorsement of the feathers through celebrities in the media. This approach is actually rather successful because people look to the media for an ideal image of beauty. People in our society conform to this trend because we have been programmed to believe that the people in magazines are happier, better looking and better off than we will ever be. So, when a celebrity like Ke$ha, whose tough look and sexual appeal attracts the attention of men and the envy of women, is shown wearing feather extensions, the people who see it will be subtly lead to the idea that once they have feather extensions they will be more like her.

For some people, these feather extensions have become another way to rebel against authority. I have a friend who got her feather to represent that she does not have to be what her parents tell her to be. The simple act of having somebody clip a feather to her head made her feel as if she was more of her own person than she had ever been before. It didn’t matter that in a few weeks’ time, the feather would dye her hair blue and fall out. She still felt as if she was expressing herself in the perfect way.

Which is ironic. Because really, what she was doing was conforming to the idea that by getting feather extensions she was being original. Just as my sister thought she was being original by getting an extension different from her outward style, and my grandma thought she was being original by finding a way to make the trend look good in her own style.

In a society where people are constantly trying to be unique by conforming to the most recent styles and trends, feather extensions allow an even wider range of expression than most other fads. The fact that there is no real advertising for them further allows people to believe that they are one among few, while the amount of people walking around with feathers attached to their heads proves otherwise. Still, people continue to go to the salons and ask for the latest colors and styles. They ask each other where they got their feathers and how much they paid, as if that, too, made them unique.

While feather extensions may seem on the surface to be a simple fashion trend, the people who are purchasing them consider it to be much more than that. The feathers that they wear in their hair represent a much larger idea than what looks cool. They can be a representation of rebellion or a shift away from a stereotype. They are a way to forget the normal trends of society and move toward the exotic. Feathers even have the power to change the way one thinks about his or herself, which is ultimately their purpose.

BFftM: Best Friends for the Moment

Have you ever had that friend who you have known for quite some time, but it is months or even years before you become close? Then once you do become close, you do so pretty quickly, so quickly sometimes, that it seems to be overnight? Well, this seems to happen to me a lot. I swear, I go through best friends like pairs of socks. You know the really cool ones that are so great that you never want to get rid of them, but once you get a knew pair, the old ones are only worn once every few months.

If you look through my blogs of the past five years, you will notice that I have a different best friend almost every year. 9th grade was the year that Mary Lauren and I spent all of our time together, sophmore year was Ian, junior year was Kara, senior year was Maddy... I only even still talk to one of those four. Lately, my best friend has been a girl from Boondocks who is also a cook. Tori is a year younger than me and we actually met two years ago when she was new at our high school and Carley and I were ambassadors.

It wasn't until the last month or so that Tori and I started hanging out. One night at work we were having a really good conversation but couldn't finish it because we had cleaning to get done. When we were done we went out to one of our cars and just continued the conversation.

Now it has become kind of a thing for us. Whenever we finish working but we're not really ready to go home for the night, we get in our cars and meet somewhere to talk. Sometimes we just sit there and listen to music and tonight she told me a story as we looked at the stars through my sun rough. As we were watching, a shooting star shot across the sky. Tori had never seen one before and it was so cool because it worked really well with the story she was telling.

It's great to have a friend who I can tell the things that I never felt that I could tell to anyone else, but I wish there was something in my life that was more consistent. My work and school schedules are always changing, the friends that I have are always changing, and I don't see my family that often anymore. I feel like I'm all over the place all of the time and it reminds me of Desmond from LOST.

I guess I just need a Constant.

:D

I didn't expect this to be so hard...

I miss my peeps. I don't think I've ever felt like I was truly alone like this before. I'm in a foreign place withe people that I don't necessarily trust and I just want to be with my family... Which is odd to say because I'm related to basically everyone that I'm here with. I need a distraction so that I stop randomly bursting into tears.

I hope they're having fun in Boston, though!

Beauty in the Stars

So, I'm cleaning my room and packing right now. I shouldn't be online, as I have to leave in less than 3 hours, but I found this poem that I wrote while I should have been taking notes in Astronomy during the first week. So here it is:

Turn your eyes

to the stars

and admire 

their beauty.

Why does such

stark contrast

draw my attention

so?

Long have my dreams

been lifted to

the night sky,

the celestial bodies

that hover there.

One day I will

reach the stars

and find there

my destiny.

Lost will be

the science

of my world, 

all that will 

remain is the

surreal beauty

of the

universe.

One day I will

find myself

in the

night sky.

It's not a masterpiece or anything. It definitely needs work. But since I haven't really written a whole lot of creative stuff lately (though I did write a new train piece last week!) I thought I would share this for anyone who might be interested.

Oh! I'm bringing my copy of Writing Down the Bones on the flight to New Orleans. Expect some kind of writing either when I land or once I am back on Sunday.

Promotion!

This is my new Boondocks shirt. My old shirt was blue because I was simply a crew member. I have been waiting months for a promotion. So when my general manager pulled me into his office today after I clocked out I was sure that he was just going to tell me some more things that I needed to work on before he could promote me. The meeting started out that way, too. He was telling me all of the things that he had noticed during our crazy day that I needed to work on. I agreed with him and let him know that I was working on these things. Then he mentioned, very casually, that they were going to be moving me up to Crew Lead. The way he said it (along with the amount of exhaustion I was facing) made me think that this still wasn't something that was happening right now. 

At the end of our talk, though, he grabbed two new red shirts from a cabinet in the office and sent me on my way. My first stop was back at the kitchen so that I could share my promotion with my friends (who have been waiting for it just as long as I have.) We partied for a moment before I had to let them get back to work and head home.

Now, I just have to say that I love working at Boondocks most of the time. I know I have my moments where I wish I could work in an environment that involved a little more sanity, but doesn't everyone? I even had my moment toward the end of my shift today. I was exhausted and I was sick of working a position that I wasn't being paid for (little did I know that I was being paid for it.) 

Still, I love the people that I work with and I even love the work that I'm doing most of the time. Every day that I work is a day that I am  improving my skills in cooking, cleaning and leadership. It may be really difficult for me to remain sane some days, but I still love it.

Just Keep Swimming...

So, as you can probably tell, my life is still insanely busy. Right now I'm sitting with Carley at Weber and I should be working on my English paper that I have to write for tomorrow. I have to work tonight, so the paper has to get done before I go in at four.

I'm not so sure that I've got this whole college thing figured out yet. I'm still just trying to get through every moment without drowning in it. But I'm doing better. I'm definitely enjoying myself more. I think I've found a way to get through my Astronomy class without losing my scholarship.

I'm also finally getting some time off.

Next week I'm going to New Orleans with my dad and some other family for a conference that he is recording. I'm not really sure what I'm going to be doing, but he's paying me to leave school and work behind for five days. I'm all for it. I get on a plane with my cousin next Wednesday evening. We'll meet my dad and the others at the airport. Then I'm coming home Sunday morning. Once I'm home, I'll have no school and no work until the next day. Isn't it great? One whole day with no school and no work. I had forgotten that such days exist.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in briefly because I haven't written in a while. I'll probably post my paper when I'm done with it, but that might not be until I turn in the final draft next week.

College

College.

This single word is something that I have seen as quite unattainable since I was little. Ten year old Madie could never have conceived that she would ever grow up. Fifteen year old Madi had no idea that, while most of high school would pass by in a blur, she would soon be hoping for the painfully slow weeks prior to graduation to go even the slightest bit faster. Eighteen year old Catherine, or Cat as some of my newer friends call me, is completely overwhelmed by whatever it is that she's gotten herself into.

After having wished away so much time and having spent years and years dreaming of what college would be like, it is strange to be able to finally say that I am a student at Weber State University. It is even more strange to walk into a class and be surrounded by people not only my age but any number of years older than me (a guy in my English 2010 class who I get into discussions with every class, announced yesterday that he has been out of school for 20 years.) It is weird not to be surrounded by people I know and it is a relief to not have to play the social game that was life at Layton High.

Yet, for all of its oddities, I have never felt more in my element than I do when I'm walking through the Union Building or discussing the politics of Modern Family in class.

This is by far, the biggest thing that has ever happened to me, and if I could have some time to just figure out how I'm going to handle all of the homework and get a good study schedule put together, then I would be loving it that much more. However, on top of starting college, I've also been dealing with an ever-increasing number of hours at work. This is because, just over a month ago, my boss fired two of our cooks at the same time that our manager and another cook quit.

For the last few weeks, everyone in the kitchen at Boondocks has been commenting on how different it is. After what happened, there were only half of our original group left. Five new people have been hired since then and the five of us who were left behind have been scrambling to get these newbies trained and to a point where we can step back and let them have a shift or two to themselves.

In the middle of this, it seems that everyone is passing around some "sickness" that always infects them mere hours before their shifts. Do you care to take a stab at who is being asked to cover all of these shifts?

It wouldn't be so bad if I could just figure out how to do all of my homework and work all of these shifts at the same time. What I need is one full day with no classes and no work to take a deep breath and get organized (and do my laundry.)

One tip for anyone still in high school: take the time and make a habit out of reading your textbooks. If you can make it any easier/less like a death sentence now, then you will just do that much better once you get to college. While a lot of what teachers say about college being a completely different, more difficult experience is not as huge as it is made out to be, there is a lot more reading required and there is no way to get around it in most cases.

I know this and I am only halfway through my second week.

I'm going to try to start writing on a regular basis as soon as I've got my study schedule figured out. College classes are giving me a LOT to think about and it seems like I have a great topic for this blog on a daily basis. There is just so much going on in my life right now.

Where I Belong

Once upon a time a girl went to camp and met the most amazing people on the planet. They understood her and were more similar to her than anyone else she had ever met. Two people in particular became her best friends and they spent the week talking, laughing and stealing each others' things. Before the girl knew it, the week had come to an end and everyone went their separate ways. Now she is home and wants nothing more than to be with her friends again. At least school starts in two weeks, right?

Eventually I will get around to writing a detailed post or two about Project Launch, the amazing time I had and the people I met. For now though, I'm going to go get ready for work and get back to life without my fellow Launchers and Mentors who I already miss immensely. This past week was filled with some of the best days of my life and I don't think I could ever forget it.

Where has the summer gone?

Here's the thing, it's been a month since I've written in this blog. Remember how I said that this summer was going to be my summer of writing? Well, instead it has turned into my summer of reading and working and trying to find something in my life that I could write about. I keep trying to turn back to the novel that I have been trying to write since eighth grade, but that whole idea is so old to me. I've explored the story in my head and I know what should happen. Do you know how hard it is to write a story that you already know? I want to discover a new story somewhere. I want to daydream about the world's next biggest sensation while riding a train and then spend years developing it before fighting to send it out into the world. I don't even care if it ever becomes a well-read book. I just want characters to write. It has been a while since I've been truly invested in a character. I miss the feeling.

And...

When I think about it, my life isn't really lacking inspiration for characters. All around me are people who inspire me. I just... Don't have a story. Where do I start? That is something I would like to ask every author. What scene did they first write? I very much doubt that J.K. Rowling began writing her epic tale in the cupboard under the stairs. In fact, I'd like to imagine that it was the scene on the train where Ron, Hermione and Harry first meet, or even the scene in the Forbidden Forrest when Harry encounters Voldemort drinking the unicorn blood.

Or...

Did she start from the end? It is common knowledge that the last chapter of the seventh book was actually written before she completed writing the first one. How could she have possibly known how big her fictional world would become when she first wrote that final chapter, though? I think I'd love to see the original draft of it. I think it would be a really good testament to the writing process to see how much it all changed between the publication of the Deathly Hallows and the conception of the Sorcerer's Stone.

Wow...

I'm just going to pretend that the Harry Potter nerdiness that pretty much is my life has not seeped into this blog, alright? We're just going to ignore all those words that completely fit my point were not really what I wanted to talk about.

A Crew Lead and a Supervisor from my work were fired today. Both are guys that I have worked with for a while and have come to know at least semi-decently. I saw them both in the kitchen before I knew they were fired and even had an interaction with one that confused me at the time. I doubt I will see either of them ever again. I had no idea at the time, though. These things happen to me all of the time. People come in and out of everyones' lives. It is just how the world works. Still, when things like this happen... I just feel the urge to write them somehow. It's not that I have any kind of story to tell about the two people that were fired today, but rather that I feel like their personalities are such that I want to write them into something... How can I, though, when I have nothing to write in the first place?

Anyway, pointless contemplation aside, I have the day off tomorrow. It is the last day off that I am going to have for two weeks. Partay. So I really do think that I should find some way to write a story with all of these characters floating around in my head. After all, there are four completely empty composition notebooks next to my bed that I bought months ago in preparation for this summer. There are only four weeks left. Does anyone have a muse that I could borrow?

Pay no attention to my rambling...

I knew this summer was going to be different.

Everything about the past year has been different. Parts of it have been fun and others have been difficult. Still others have been downright irritating. Still, I knew it was all coming. I've been prepared for nearly every change that has occurred in my life in the last year.

Yet, it seems that no amount of preparation is enough. I knew that with graduation everything was going to change once again. I'm no stranger to adjusting. It seems that for the last couple of years, every time I've become used to the way my life seems to work everything begins to change again. I've learned the best ways to roll with the punches and adjust to my flexible environment.

Still, I'm a little overwhelmed this time.

A little less than a year ago, I was hired at Boondocks Fun Center. I've been working as a cook in the Back Porch Grill for eleven months now and I feel like I am finally getting to the point where I can handle a rush without freaking out and screwing up. It's something that I've worked very hard toward. I've created friendships with the people I work with and I think my manager finally sees that I am serious about my job.

It just figures that now that I find myself liking my workplace and the people I work with, I am finding myself faced with a difficult and yet obvious decision. I'm not getting the hours I need. I should be working at least thirty hours a week and I'm lucky at this point to be getting thirty hours a paycheck. It has been enough to get me by for the past year, but... Like I said, everything's changing now. I can no longer get by on $250 a month.

I need another job to get me through the summer. Then, come August, I will probably be forced with a decision. Which job will best for me during the school year? Which job can I afford to keep?

The problem is, I hate the process of finding a job. It took me a year to get my interview with Boondocks. It was a year of applications, resumes and plenty of frustration. I hated that part of my life. I don't want to be back there again. I don't know how some people do it. I tried for a year. I filled out hundreds of job applications and was only even asked in for one interview. Now I have to do it all again and I have to do it while working my job at Boondocks.

When did summer stop being about days spent out in the sun? When did it become just another period of time for me to get through so that I can move on to the next? The thing that I've hated most about graduating is that I feel like I'm nowhere right now. I'm not really working toward anything except being about to afford life. I have goals, but nothing big. I feel like I'm doing nothing. There's nothing worse then that feeling. I spent the better part of my time on this blog in 2010 talking about how much I hate it, that feeling of not going anywhere but having so much that I really need to do.

I guess I just need to take a deep breath. There's really nothing that will come from ranting about it all.

Inspired

Writing Down the Bones is so much more than I expected it to be, even when I read the first couple of chapters during school. I've been ready at least a couple pages everyday and I've taken to highlighting everything that I find interesting or inspires me. There hasn't been a single page that I haven't highlighted anything and I've had so much going through my mind because of it. The book may be about writing, but I think anyone could gain something from reading it. Regardless of whether or not you're a writer, it's still interesting and valuable to have a mind that is so active. I have so many thoughts about so many things running through my mind and because I am a writer, I think that I could sit down and write about it all for days.

I may sit down and write about it all for at least a few hours. I don't think I'd ever want anyone to read it, but that's not the point, is it? Natalie Goldberg talks a lot about "first thoughts" and writes a chapter on obsessions and that seems to be the mode that this book has put my mind in right now. Every new thought or memory that comes to mind is surprising and I just need a way to express them all without losing a single one. It sounds like I'm writing in the wrong place right now, doesn't it? If I'm having all of these "first thoughts" that really should be written down, why I am writing about them instead?

I think I'm going to go write in my notebook for a little while. I'll let you know if anything good comes out of it, but I don't really mind if nothing does.

The Other Side Revisited

      So I managed to finish another revision today. This one is really different from the original. I'm not sure what I think of it yet, and I'm sure this one will have even more revisions this summer. It mixes my original intention for the piece with my new concept for it in a way that still seems slightly awkward to me. I more than doubled it in length, and I'm not even sure if you can really consider them the same piece. Still, here it is.

      "Why can't I move? Why can't I force myself from this spot? I mean, I'm standing here staring at a train!" She exclaimed into her phone. Why did she do this to herself, she wondered as she wrapped her free arm around her stomach. "It's not even the same train station he left from, and yet, I can't leave. I feel like maybe if I stand here long enough, he'll come back. Is that crazy?"
      "I don't think you have quite reached crazy yet." Her sister's voice reassured her over the phone. "Obsessive, definitely... A little unreasonable, but you have not been trying to track him down like you originally said you were going to, so I think you may still be sane."
      "I just wish he could have forgiven me, you know? I mean, we both made mistakes. I didn't jump on a train just to get away from them, though. I dealt with my problems." The anger that she had worked so hard to force down was now beginning to creep back up her throat. "He didn't even let anyone know where he was going! I know we weren't speaking, but don't you think I deserved something from him at least?" She felt like she was begging for some kind of reassurance that she had been wronged.
      "Honestly?" Her sister's voice was hesitant. "I don't think you did. You hurt him just as much as he hurt you, sis. I think peace was really all either of you could expect from each other and he tried to give that to you."
      In the station, the young woman took a deep breath, unable to deny the truth to her sister's words. "I know," she admitted quietly.
      "Listen, I have to go. Mom's waiting for me. Try not to focus on it, alright? You will be fine once you stop dwelling on all the bad blood. Try to think of it as a fresh start. You still deserve happiness. Even he wouldn't deny you that."
      "Yeah. I'll try. Thanks for listening." She considered her sister's words, turning them around and around in her mind.
      "No problem. That's what sisters are for. Love you."
      "Love you, too. Tell mom I said hi." When her sister disconnected she flipped her phone shut, pulling both arms tight around herself, trying to hold it all together. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to forget the distance separating her from everyone that had ever mattered to her.
      She regretted the silence that had been her final moments with him. They had left their known world for this one, together, looking for a new start, but she had been so cold in the end. She should have tried to talk to him. Instead of months of silence, there could have been words. They could have fixed it, she knew that now, too late.
      What he had seen was that she showed no sorrow for the events that tore them apart. She had been so desperate to keep herself safe and together that she had become a stone. Maybe if she had let him in, he would have been able to forgive her and she would not be left watching trains come and go from an empty station.
      She had left everyone else behind for a chance with him and she had messed it all up without looking at the damage she had caused. Opening her eyes, she took one more deep breath. She turned to leave the station, realizing what she should have known all along.
      Without him, she had nothing but a fresh start because without him by her side... She was completely alone to pick up the pieces.

The Platform Revisited

So, this is the beginning of one of my multiple summer writing projects. First, I'm going to revise the six train pieces that I have from school and rewrite the one that I could not find. Then I'm going to write new ones. Hopefully at least one a day, taking time to revise older ones as I go. Today I sat down and punched this out while looking at a copy of the original piece. I think the contrast between the two really shows you how I improved in my writing this year. I'm going to go work on revising the others now, as well. I'll probably put them up by tomorrow night.


     "The world moved on."*
     These quiet words snuck their way to the forefront of his mind from a book he remembered reading long ago. Back then, he was enchanted by the profound sound of such a simple phrase, but he had never really considered them any further than that.
      Now, as he stood at the edge of the platform waiting for his train, somewhere between his old life and his new beginning, he forced himself to examine the words he had once so ignorantly admired. His world had certainly moved on. Long gone were the day of naiive camaraderie and laughter. Somewhere between all of the words he had said and all those he had never had the courage to express, his world and the sepereate worlds of all those around him had moved on.
      Standing there, he supposed it must be time for him to move on as well. He could not just continue to live in this limbo between his past and his future, watching but not living as the world passed him by in a blur of activity.
      Forgive and forget, he thought as he watched all the other people in the station coming and going, never standing still. his past would always be a part of him, but maybe just this once he could move on without bringing all of his bitterness with him.
      The low rumble of an approaching train reached his ears and brought his attention to the dark tunnel as it began to slowly fill with blinding white light. He had no choice now, he thought as the train came to a complete stop in front of him and the doors slid open slowly. There was no way for him to deny that he really had to move on now.
      He took a deep breath as he settled in his seat and looked out the window on the platform. He felt the gears begin to grind together beneath him as the train began to move.
      Back on the platform, no one noticed the luggage that he had left behind. 










* Phrase comes from Stephen King's The Gunslinger.

Lost Pieces and Inspiration

        I woke up this morning with a plan. Today I am going to compile all of my "train pieces" so that they are in one place (the beautiful notebook that my cousin, Andi gave me for graduation.) From there I was going to rewrite them, add some stronger imagery and better character to the earlier pieces, and possibly write a few more.
      I've written six pieces that I was able to locate this morning. I'm pretty sure they are all on my blog, but if they aren't they will be soon (I plan to start posting all of the writing I did this year that is not up yet.) However, there is a seventh piece that I know that I wrote and that I really liked that I cannot find anywhere. It makes me sad, but I think at this point I will just rewrite it. I still like the concept of the piece and I can probably make it stronger if I write it now as opposed to two o'clock in the morning when I originally wrote it.
      Anyway, I was just on the computer looking through files to find the pieces and I thought I would come explain to everyone who reads this what I am up to today... I don't know why.

     Oh! Now I'm going to rant about the books that I've been given lately that I'm going to be using for inspiration in my writing this summer. :)
      The first is Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. This book is one that my Creative Writing/AP Literature teacher gave me before school ended. I had borrowed a copy from her but had not been able to finish it before giving it back to her. I love it so far. Natalie Goldberg really has some great things to say about writing. She talks about how important it is to just write and not question your writing (like I just did with the end of this sentence, rewritten about ten times.) I think I am really going to learn a lot and my writing is definitely going to improve from reading this book.
      The next two books are ones that my dad bought me while we were at The Gateway after graduation last week. Unlike the Writing Down the Bones, these two books were picked more to give me inspiration for my writing. I picked them out of the many books on the shelf in Barnes & Noble because I think that they are likely to really help give me something to write about.
     Semantic Antics by Sol Steinmetz is basically a dictionary of how words have changed over time. I'm still reading the introduction, but so far I'm really liking this book. It talks about the different ways that words can change as well. Apparently the different types of changes all of specific names. Honestly, I think it would be really interesting to study, which was not what I expected when I picked this book off the shelf and asked my dad if he would buy it for me. Really, I was just thinking that I would be able to open it, pick a word at random and find a way to write about it. I still plan to do that, even though I will probably get more from it as well.
      The Pocket Muse 2 by Monica Wood was actually recommended to me by my older sister, Wendy, who was with me at the time. I haven't really had time to just look through it yet, but it seems to be a collection of pictures, prompts and tips to inspire writing. I've seen the first book and I've probably flipped through it at B&N before, but I had never really thought about seriously buying it. However, if I like using the second one, I may just have to go find the first one sometime soon.
     I'm really excited about these books. Plus, I think I may be heading to B&N today to look for more. I think it would be a good way to spend my day off, don't you? I could look around at the books for a while and then just sit and write for a while. The idea is sounding more and more appealing to me by the second. After all, what better place for inspiration than a book store?

Since Blogger is being ridiculous and would not let me post this (still isn't, actually,) I'd like to update with the fact that I did spend a significant part of my day at B&N. In fact, I freaked out when I accidentally left my wallet in my car and then ended up spending almost $50. I probably should have left the wallet in the car. However, I'm excited to read Water for Elephants and I'm glad that I finally own my own copy of the miserable thoughts book as well as a couple of others.


Hopefully blogger will let me put this up soon.

My Perfect Summer

Want to hear about my perfect idea of a summer day?

Well it would be something like this:

A good book paired with good music, beautiful weather and an afternoon at the park with my sisters. sounds amazing doesn't it?

That is my day today if my sisters can get ready in time for me to go to the park with them before I have to go to work tonight. I'm reading The Hobbit and I have my iPod on shuffle.

Today is a good day.

So... I Graduated?

Honestly, the last week has become one giant blur. Somehow, during all of my internalized spazzing and panicking, everything happened and all that I have left to do is look back through all of the pictures other people took so that I may be able to, eventually, admit that it actually happened.

I mean... How? I worked for thirteen years and then last Thursday I walked across a (not really) stage and someone handed me a (not really) diploma and that was it? It seems very anticlimactic, if you ask me. How is anyone supposed to actually feel like it really happened? I don't think it will truly feel real to me until I walk into my first college class in the fall (which I am super excited about and secretly wishing away the summer for.)

I just... can't believe that it's over. I kind of feel like I should need to have a really good happy/mournful cry over it... Because that's what I do. But I'm still in shock. I just... don't know.

The only pictures that are currently on Facebook of me actually at graduation. :D

Eventually I'll come up with some better worded thoughts about all of this. I just didn't want too much time to go by without mentioning it. So here it is.

Whispers (Another Train Piece)

Before today, I'd never noticed just how often people whisper. Walking through the crowded station, my lone bag hanging from my shoulder, I watch these quiet exchanges.

Sitting on a bench, a young girl leans up to her mother's ear and tells a secret. She laughs and grins as her mother chuckles, amused at her daughter's childish humor.

In a dark corner, two young men stand together, planning something quietly. They look around nervously. One catches my eye and I look away.

A father grabs the arm of one of his rambunctious young boys and whispers harshly in his ear. The boy nods guiltily before going back to his seat to wait for the train, defeated.

Couples are scattered throughout the station. One stands close to a train that is about to leave. He holds her close, whispering what could only be sweet words before they part and she boards the train. He watches longingly as it leaves the station.

Now there is an older woman walking past me. She carries a cell phone in one hand and a brief case in the other. Her quiet words are as rushed as her clicking heels.

My observations are interrupted by the arrival of my own train. I board and sit quietly, looking around at other passengers silently whispering the words of music and books. Some speak quietly to each other.

I take a deep breath and look out the window. My hand comes to rest lightly on the cool glass. "Goodbye," comes my own whisper as the train begins to move.

Rain

As long as I can remember I have loved rain. The fresh smell of wet earth that it creates, the way it makes windows cool to the touch and distorts the view from them, the wet squelch of tires turning on pavement... All of it is so powerful and so full of energy. It is just so cathartic to me to stand outside in the rain and look up at the clouds, as cliche as that sounds. The sensation of it all as the rain runs down my skin just seems to wipe everything clean and allows me to start fresh.

If I weren't currently in my pajamas, I would run outside right now. Maybe I would sit on my porch or lay on my tramp. I would forget myself and all of the things I should be doing and just be as the rain came down on me. Then I would come back inside, a small smile on my face. Once again reassured that I am fine and I will make it through the next two weeks. Nothing that has been done or said would be remembered as I would walk up to my room to go to bed, ready to face tomorrow.

As it is, I open my window as wide as it goes and lean against the window sill as the rain falls onto my face through the screen. It may not be as pure, the net designed to keep bugs and other creatures out holds me in from the storm, but it still refreshes me and reminds me to keep going strong.

Record

Eight posts in one day. I call that productivity.

I'm in Creative Writing and I know that I've been saying for a while that I was going to post the writing I have been doing this semmester. Well, now I have posted some of it. There's a lot more than that, and I didn't even get to my better pieces. However, I will be getting them up soon. I have a lot going on right now, but I haven't yet abandoned this blog in the four years since I started it.

Speaking of four years, I think I decided that the perfect time to make this blog into a book is going to be right after graduation. I'm not going to stop writing in it then, but I've been meaning to get this blog "published" since I found out that I could. I'm at nearly 150 posts and I'm reaching a time of my life that is very fitting for the end. Dorky, I know, but I'm excited.

I've got another exciting post that I am going to be putting up here in the next few days. It was an assignment for my AP Lit class that I finished at one this morning. I'll explain it more later, but it is going to be awesome!

Lessons in Friendship

K was the first
to teach me
that I won't always
be accepted, that
sometimes, people will
push me away
when they learn who
I really am,
that I can't hate them
for it.

mL taught me that
it is crucial to accept yourself
before others accept you,
that three day long sleepovers
are only fun
with midnight episodes
of gory medical shows,
that long distance friendships
can work
when you want them to.

You are teaching me
that letting go is
alright when holding on
causes everyone pain,
that sometimes what you want
and what you need
cannot be reconciled,
that you have to learn
to want what you need
to be happy.

They have all taught me
to love myself
for who I am,
that I am always
important,
that friends come and go,
that you just have
to accept it all
and move on.

The names are removed because I don't know who reads this blog... But some people will still recognize who I'm talking about anyway. There are three people here. One from elementary school, one from junior high and one from high school. All of them have had a huge impact on my life, whether they know it or not. I really like how this assignment turned out.

Untitled Sarcasm Piece

When you walk into the room
I always get excited to hear
your latest stories.
I drop everything,
no problem really.
I wasn't doing anything important.
I'm sure everyone in the room
would love to listen too,
so speak up.
Your haircut was the highlight
of my week,
I cried when you dropped your pen
and was inspired when
he picked it up for you.
I was filled with
anger and disppointment
when you lost a point on the test
and incredibly jealous
when your mom bought
you Coke flavored chapstick.
Are you sure nothing else
happened today?
You don't have any more
exciting tales to tell?
Well that just sucks.
I guess we will all
have to wait until tomorrow
when you can tell us about the ice
you scraped off your windshield
and the gum stuck to your shoe.
The suspense is killing me.

This piece combines a bunch of (one sided) conversations that I have had with people about pointless things. Also for Creative Writing. I'm rather pleased with how it turned out.

The End

All around us,
things are coming to an end.
Preparations are being made,
graduation nearly upon us.

Things I wish I had done,
memories and stories
I could have had
now become regrets.

I regret not going to
the first dance,
the last dance.

I regret not opening up
to someone else,
making new friends.

I regret the classes
I did not take,
the ones I did.

I regret making it here
without realizing
that this is the end.

Years from now,
I may regret not
keeping in touch,
ending things as
we did.

For all my regrets,
I still would not
change a thing.

Another poem for my Creative Writing class. This one was supposed to be about regrets.

Trapped in Winter

This was inspired by my complete frustration at the weather. It was an assignment for my class. I had to use certain colors in my poem. I think I like it, but this is only the version I wrote in my writing notebook. I think I made some edits to the one that I turned in that made the whole poem better.

Colors of the sky
take me to another place,
another time.

Sunflower yellow,
a great orb in the sky,
takes me to summers past
when I would look up to
the flowers in wonder.

Oranges and purples
fill the sky of a setting sun,
taking me to
pumpkin patches and
orchards filled with ripe fruit
in the fall.

Looking at the sky,
I can imagine warm beaches
and sunny days,
laying in dry grass,
eyes closed and soaking in
warm rays.

I pull my jacket
closer to me and try
to ignore the shocking white
snow up in the mountains.
My eyes close and I sigh,
waiting for the day
when I'm no longer
trapped in winter.

Storm

The world fills with sudden light,
briefly revealing a fissure in the night sky.
Deserted streets count silently,
One...
         Two...
                  Three...
Before the crack of thunder
shatters the peaceful atmosphere.

Another piece that I wrote in my Creative Writing class. this one was not an assignment. It was raining and I wanted to write. Out came this poem. I have to admit, while I really didn't like it at first, I am really happy about how it turned out.

A Questionable Friendship

How did we begin
     this journey?
What were our first words
     to each other?
When did we become
     inseparable?
How many years were
     we so close?
Why did we begin to
     drift apart?
When will you acknowledge
     the distance between us?
How long until we realize
     what has happened?

This is a poem I wrote for my Creative Writing class back in April. It involves some things that were going on at the time... They're kind of just reaching the end now... Anyway, not my favorite piece, but I thought I would put it up here anyway.

Maiah's Imagination

I wrote this about a week ago... I was bored and it was raining. I wanted something to write about and so I started this. I think I kind of like this and may even take it further.

Maiah stared out the fogged up window, focusing on the raindrops as they rolled slowly down the glass. The dark sky was full of clouds to the point that she didn't think there was room for any more air below them; a single breath would cause the entire planet to pop. She imagined the blue and green sphere expanding slo9wly as it filled with the breaths of human and animal alike. As trees and buildings flashed past her outside, she imagined the inflated earth popping like a large balloon, pieces flying everywhere, coming to rest on other planets and stars.

Sometimes, Maiah was accused of letting her mind get away from her. Then she would imagine it flying away in a blue sky full of sunshine and scattered with bright white clouds. The only thing tethering it to her would be a kite string, thin and nearly invisible. Any number of things could break that string, rendering her completely incapable of ever retrieving a sane thought again.

These were the things that Maiah thought about as she looked out the window of her family's little car.

That's all I have about Maiah right now, but she intrigues me. There will most likely be more about her in the not-so-distant future. I'm considering adding her to my novel... Which I haven't worked on in a while. Bad Madi.

Into the Darkness

The path winds, its journey

falling into darkness

where lost dreams hide,

shoved into the long forgotten caverns

of newly mature and barren minds.

A young boy walks cautiously

along under the shadows of

these long lost hopes.

Time after time, the

darkness prevails, and like

all others faced with choices

in the cool loneliness of

the caverns,

the boy continues on,

leaving a trail of dreams

in his wake.

Disappointed Anger

I learned something yesterday that has me mad. I don't mean that I'm slightly annoyed or irritated. This isn't an anger that small or unfounded. I don't even know how to describe it, because I have never been this angry about something like this before. I just feel like I've been cheated. I feel like I'm being punished for something I don't remember doing.

Why am I so mad?

Well, I've been working on my school newspaper for almost three years now. Three years ago, on my first day of high school, I walked into Mrs. Erickson's room as a clueless sophomore. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. No one had prepared me for the challenge of learning how to write news or how to be part of a staff that moves at such a quick pace. I had never planned on becoming Co-Editor-in-Chief after having only worked on the paper for a single year. I was never told how hard it was to be an editor or how much time I would devote to putting that newspaper together. I was not prepared to love and hate it as much as I did. I was not prepared for it to end as it all seems it will now.

LHS went through some real drama last year that partially resulted in our principal retiring and all of the eyes in the state being turned on us. The result of that was a new principal who had to pay a lot more attention to where money went and how it was spent. For the newspaper, that meant that a product that had once been fully supported by the school had to completely function on its own. My advisor paid for our last three papers in full, but cannot afford to do the same again. This means that, unless we can sell $600 in ads by Tuesday, there will be no Senior Edition of the Centurion for the class of 2011. I think I'm the only one who is seriously upset about this.

No one else on the staff is as invested in that paper as I am. That is something that I have known all year and that I have struggled to come to terms with. When I am telling everyone that they need to work harder and that we need to have the paper done now, it is because I want it to be the best possible product that we can present to the student body. It doesn't matter that a majority of them won't ever look at it; I don't do it for the recognition. I do it because seeing that newsprint with our Layton High Centurion logo on it is one of the best feelings that I know. I love seeing our work on the page, concrete evidence of our time at Layton High.

So this last edition is especially important to me... and we may not even be able to print it.

I just... don't even know where to direct the anger and the frustration that I feel right now.

Last month, when we won state Science Olympiad and MM (a guy from Davis who I used to be on the FFJH team with) realized he wouldn't be going to nationals, I didn't understand why he could consider it failure. He had placed in third and had been to nationals FOUR times. I think I understand a little bit more now, though. To have come so far and have almost reached the end and then to be told that we probably will not make it... I don't even know how to describe what I'm feeling right now other than anger and disappointment.

I'm ready for senior year to be over now.

...

Lonely Moon

She watches the rain

through the elegant window,

falling endlessly to the ground,

forever graceful.

The subtle moon, grey

beneath a blanket of clouds,

shines softly on the earth,

calling for the broken memories

lying dormant in the

thoughtful minds below.

Tragically, they have been

tossed aside. Lost is the

instinctive wisdom of the

flawed sky against the

ancient trees.

So, I realize that I haven't posted any real writing in a while. This is not because I have not been writing. Quite on the contrary. I have been writing a lot. There has just been a lot going on and I have not gotten around to putting anything up. I will be putting some more up soon (hopefully.) This is just a piece that I wrote for my Creative Writing class that I will also be reading at a school performance tonight.