Archive for May, 2012

Habitual Nature

Acting is the most personal of our crafts. The make-up of a human being – his physical, mental and emotional habits – influence his acting to a much greater extent than commonly recognized.
Lee Strasberg
So I was sitting in my Spanish class today thinking about human habits. Now, it’s not an odd thing for me to be avoiding actually listening to the Spanish lecture to opt for a more fun thought wave. But that’s not necessarily why I was thinking of this then. You’d have to see the way we sit to understand this.

I’m not sure how other Spanish classes are set up, but for mine, there are about seven rows of three pushed up against one wall, and seven rows of three pushed up against the opposite wall, facing each other. We were allowed to choose where we sit.

In my first semester this year we were segregated straight down the middle, boys by the window wall, girls by the door. But even within these sections there were splits by how they set themselves up, based more on personality and friends. Now, in my second semester, our class was split in a more complex way, which was made abundantly clear on valentines day. My side? nothing. Not one valentine. The other? Tons.

So yes, basically we split by popularity. Our side made light of this by labeling ourselves the ‘forever alone’ side. Coincidentally, most of us have tumblrs, and though we might not hang out in our day to day life, during that one period of the day, we are a united, fully functions nerd herd.

I love the people in my Spanish class. Even the other side is amusing. One half is the guys, which are mostly made of the the trouble makers, but the funny ones, and the other half consists of the preppy girls. There is no end to the stories I could tell you from that class alone, but that is a story for another post.

In my English class, the room is structured similarly, and we sat ourselves in an order of my group, the quiet girls, the preps, the loudmouths, and then onto the trouble makers. Group discussions are pretty one-sided. Pun intended.

At lunch, we all find ourselves sprinkled amongst the school. My group either eats on the hillside outside, when it’s nice, or on the floor by the heater near the office when it’s not. The same outside groups always sitting around us in their usual places.

During assemblies, you see this pattern setting in as to where we always sit. Based, again, on groups. Now, I should mention that our school isn’t radically divided. But we still have our normal groups, that appear in all school settings.

My point is guys, that when left up to our own devices, we will choose to turn to the familiar, the comfortable. And why wouldn’t we? It’s so ingrained in us that that’s we’re we belong that it is downright scary to go against that.

And it isn’t just in school settings that I see this. It’s everywhere. From buses, parks, and pools, to my job, and coffee shops and even grocery stores. We interact with those who seem the closest to what we have always known.

I have trouble with this at my church especially. It’s a college church, and I attend with my sister. She knows people there, has friends in the congregation, while I… do not. I find myself constantly blending into the background, keeping my trap shut and hovering near my sisters group. I am not my sister, by any means. Her group is not like my own. I almost constantly keep up this feeling of being an outsider. So uncomfortable. Nothing changes when I do this, the uncomfortableness has just become a thing of normalcy.

The question I’d like to pose to ya’ll is how are we ever supposed to experience anything new if we never break from our self determined packs and habits? Sure we have fun together, but how often is that fun really that great? I know my group has become so comfortable with one another that we’ve run out of things to talk about. Lunch periods are rather boring sometimes. But we keep coming back because that’s what we’re used to.

Haven’t the greatest memories, that are story worthy been from those times that we were hurled into the unknown? Curiosity and wonder are natural, and good, but so often we suppress these for familiarity’s sake. Life is not about security. We should be taking chances, changing things up, making mistakes. Nothing would ever be accomplished, no new inventions would be notable if someone hadn’t have stepped out of their personal comfort zone to chase the uncertain path of their thoughts and ideas.

So I pose a challenge to you readers. Try to do at least one uncomfortable thing this week. Whether it be talking to a stranger, sitting in a new area, or simply trying a new restaurant, activity, or outfit style. What ever you want, just go out of the way to reject the ordinary. You may be surprised by the results.

Through my Eyes

That’s all for now. So until next time, Keep on Dreaming &*)



The Remains of Loyalty

So often is the virgin sheet of paper more real than what one has to say, and so often one regrets having marred it. ~Harold Acton, Memoirs of an Aesthete, 1948
Guys, I don’t have a brain right now. Partly due to seven hours spent on stupid science posters this weekend, partly because I’m working on the history musical because Mr. Director sir lost two pages of it :S and partly because I’m using the rest of my brain power to try to figure out a pre- plot hole for my camp nano novel. Trust me it is brain eating material. Anyhow I don’t have the necessary brain waves to come up with a better topic so I’m posting a short story I wrote last year. Enjoy, and please tell me what you think.
The air’s substantial weight pressed in on his skin; twisting its scummy fingers in an encasement around his throat and locking itself like shambles on the limbs. An eerie silence floated on the mist, leaving all drenched in suspicion and dire blood thirst. Adrenaline, anger, anticipation, and awe pumped their way through his vascular system as he trampled the blood drenched ground which led back to home base; their hazardous safety net.
Hurricanes of incomprehensible thoughts sucked everything into the torture chamber of his mind; throwing them like sacks of potatoes onto unstable spiked beds and chaining them there with a steady flow of solitary tears of water splashing between their eyes. All thought, emotion, and common sense were trapped behind a boulder of explosives, leaving the embarrassingly exposed primal intuition lying with the master key to his body’s control center at hand.
His heart played a one man tennis match against the wall of his aching chest; butterflies ran a soccer game between his internal organs, but even this was incoherent to any true meaning. The metal head of his fire arm was clenched within the sticky sweat of his fingers, bobbing up and down with his awkward rhythmic gait. But he held on with the instinct to protect; fight or flight was never an option. It was win or die trying.
Every man and boy left standing were herded into this outskirt of civilization, readying themselves for the final determination battle that tomorrow would drag in by the ear. His enemies, the Thieves of Rowkwell, who’s pilfering of the precious Gem of Lathum led up to the bombing of the nation’s proud capital building, and later, the inevitable war; had managed to fly under the radar of all Lathonian soldiers. This brought the harsh, yet eminent ring of death all too near.
As his body crushed the flimsy threshold of the ramshackle base, his feet drew him to the cot of pointed steal springs, cushioned only by a thin layer of synthetic down. His brain numbed into the familiarity of the ever widening black hole, plunging his spirit into the lasting effects nothing; a complete blank. There was no restfulness or comfort in this; just a time passing technique he had perfected back when he had learned forgetting everything that made you humane was essential for there to be any hope of survival. Those who could not take this lesson to heart, no longer walked this planet.
He shot into action as the deafening tone of bullets and cannons pierced through the flat line of his consciousness. Embracing his rifle to his side, he propped his finger against the cool trigger; firing round upon round at anything that dared to step into his path as he raced toward the frontlines. Men baring Rowkwell’s signature grey and gold were blasted back as miniature missiles bombarded their torsos, leaving them to descend to a terrorizing pain-filled death in seclusion, as their collogues crawled over their mangled corpses.
Without eliciting any emotion from him, death ambushed soldiers on both sides; some coming directly from his own hands. Cries of pain engulfed the area with a steady soundtrack of horror but the skirmish raged on. Sweat seeped deeply into his clothes, doubling the already boiling temperatures, as the sickly sweet aroma of blood and burned flesh penetrated his nostrils like a thousand tiny needles being prodded into his fingertips, repeatedly.
Then, as if a meteor had struck the land with no warning, all action ceased. Men on the other side had either retreated or were now all trying to knock down heaven’s gates. The barbell of air shot down on his head as if someone had just let loose the blade of a guillotine. The collective force pinned his feet to the ground, leaving no possible way for him to return to his deceptive oasis of sharpened metal wire and feathers.
A movement, subtle at first, caught his eye, as his head whipped back in the enemy’s direction; granting him access to his lower limbs. His body took control, flinging the pistol upward. Upon glancing toward the twitch of motion, his eyes glazed over, seeing the recognition flush over the perpetrator. It was a man of the same age; hair slicked back with desperate sweat; body weak with loss of blood.
The steal doors of his defense system slid open just enough for the delicate memories to crawl out and ensnare with the blockade that his mind had welded together; leaving him with no choice but to watch them dance across the stage of his past. He was a boy again. His younger self joking with a youthful version of the pathetic creature his body was now facing.
A crystal blue lake rose in the distance, as he and his buddy sprinted down the sand packed shore. Balls were tossed carelessly between groups; in fields, beaches, and lawns. Bicycle wheals rolled on for miles. Unnoticed movies played in the background of teenage conversations. Contests that questioned manliness were pursued in all seriousness. Girls were the object of turmoil; parent the root of all things unfair. Punches were thrown and insults were hurled as they sought out illegal goods and under-aged rebellion. All moments and pictures that flashed before his eyes had one important piece in common; he and the man on the enemy’s side.
Back in real time the soldier stumbled; losing balance for only one moment as a foreign ache pulsed through his heart and stomach. He gasped, slightly confused as he tried to recover the mental barriers that had been so carefully and protectively laid. But it was far too late for that; he had seen, and he had felt. His body fought for control, moving his forefinger near the frighteningly ready trigger. His muscles tensed, questioning his sanity. What was he doing? There was no hesitation in the game of war. Where was his instinctual command to fire, to kill at all costs? Why the hell wasn’t he taking advantage of such weak prey? Everything in his past training had taught him that there were no second chances for those who defended the terrorists. Where were all the thoughtless actions that had been branded in his mind for so long?
The eyes of the man looked on knowingly, and almost seemed to pity the internal battle waging on before him. He rolled to the side, presenting the bullet wound that still oozed molten blood. At the sight of this, the soldier needed know other advice on action. He stumbled, shakily forward to the side of his childhood friend and tossed his gun far in the distance; falling to his knees as his unsure fingers tore off his own shirt and wrapped it around the bodice of the man. When it was in place enough to slow the gory flow, he hoisted the man into his arm and directed himself back to home base. Screw the government, friends come first.

Through my Eyes

That’s all for now guys. So until next time Keep on dreaming &*)



“…because nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff… Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-the-chair-can’t-control-yourself love it. Hank, when people call people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is ‘you like stuff.’ Which is just not a good insult at all. Like, ‘you are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness’.”
― John Green

If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m a nerd. I admit this full out, without restraint or hesitation. I wasn’t always so open about this fact, but trust me, it was painfully obvious to everyone around me. Don’t believe me? Let me list my nerdy attributes. I have a blog. I spend a good portion of time on my tumblr. At school you will almost always find my head stuck in a book, or hand furiously scribing in my notebook that I designed and laminated with quotes about writing. I’m a writer, and spend hours of each day devoted to thinking about/talking to my characters. I make detailed drawing of what  I believe my main character looks like:


And then upload that picture onto my computer so I can make a book cover out of it:

I spend a few too many hours devoted solely to finding videos on youtube searching for parodies of songs, and songs about books I’ve read. I can quote Twilight off the cuff, no problem. Say just about anything and I can associate it with a song, and will burst out singing despite the fact that I have an awful voice. I do Nanowrimo, I have a pen name. I get a large portion of my social life by talking to my online friends who I have never met. I spend a great deal of time with these online friends, role-playing with our novel characters. I have a large portion of memory devoted just to Disney songs. I collect pens. I ship fictional characters that come from totally different worlds, and spend months counting down to the release dates of books from my favorite authors.

I could go on guys. The point is, I’m a nerd. But the much greater point of this post is that we all are, at least in part, slightly on the nerdy side. Being a nerd has led me to passionately explore different routes of entertainment to pursue these nerdy things, and had led to a great number of friendships without which my life would be sadly lacking. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate about things. In fact, many of the people who have made a lasting impression on our world have been, beautifully, wholeheartedly nerdy. If they had been too afraid to be passionate, where would we be? Where would our technology be without Steve Jobs, or Bill Gates? Where would entertainment be without Walt Disney? What if one of your passions could turn out to be something as powerful as these individuals’ passions were? What are you nerdy about?

I’ll wrap up this post with just a couple more quotes from John green.

“Saying ‘I notice you’re a nerd’ is like saying, ‘Hey, I notice that you’d rather be intelligent than be stupid, that you’d rather be thoughtful than be vapid, that you believe that there are things that matter more than the arrest record of Lindsay Lohan. Why is that?’ In fact, it seems to me that most contemporary insults are pretty lame. Even ‘lame’ is kind of lame. Saying ‘You’re lame’ is like saying ‘You walk with a limp.’ Yeah, whatever, so does 50 Cent, and he’s done all right for himself.”
John Green

“Gentlemen, nerd girls are the world’s greatest underutilized romantic resource.”
John Green

Through my Eyes

Well that’s all for now. So until next time, Keep on Dreaming &*)



My Masochistic Mind

A film is – or should be – more like music than like fiction. It should be a progression of moods and feelings. The theme, what’s behind the emotion, the meaning, all that comes later.
Stanley Kubrick


I have read, in several places, that one way to learn how to plot well, is to dissect the movies you watch. Like my choice in reading materials, often my movie experiences are emotional roller coasters.  What can I say, I’m a masochist at heart. Last night I went on a netflix rampage. I should add here, dear readers, that I usually try to avoid that website at all costs. As much of a time drain that youtube is, at the end of the day, Youtube videos are generally only around four minutes long. Netflix holds movies and entire series at the click of a mouse with no interruptions beside the occasional slow browser. I have an addictive personality guys. Entire weeks can be lost to Netflix. I certainly do not need that right now. 


None the less, I willing stepped into the quicksand. I began with Ted Talks. I don’t know if I have mentioned my recent obsession with these, but let me tell you, when I get started on these, it never ends quickly, or without some sort of guilt for not devoting all my time to saving the world or something. Of course I want to save the world. I just don’t know how to do it. Anyway, after I had crawled my way through those like a whipped puppy, I found myself staring of the cliff of the long, dangerous fall, that is a tear-jerk-er Hallmark movie. This one, The Shunning. took place in an Amish community. We followed a girl, Katie, who was about to be wed to the local Bishop. When we first meet Katie, we see her sneaking off to find a hidden guitar, an object that would not please her people. Later, she learns she is adopted, and decides she can’t go through with the wedding. 


I became so attached to Katie that I was crying for the last solid thirty minutes of the movie. She was real to me. The movie makers had perfectly kept up that essential suspension of belief. I want my characters to be like that; to be so real, not only to me, but to anyone who may read my work. For the most part, my characters are real to me. They have unique voices, appearances, back stories, thoughts… everything that real people have. I just wonder if that is displayed to those around me.


Anyway, I began this cry fest following my walk home in a whirlwind of cotton infested air from my job. We were in the actual pool today, and I spent my two hours with my head stuck in various confined spaces along with mold and multiple, various cleaning supplies. Needless to say, by the end of the night, my head was not feeling so well. Twenty minutes and six ibuprofen later (I generally take Excedrin for I’m all but immune to the healing affects of most headache medicine; thus the upped dosage) I was on my way to dreamland.


I had a very interesting dream last night, and it was similar in style to ones I’ve had multiple times before. I was in a building very similar to the church I was born into… I was looking for something, but also I got the feeling that I was running from something else and trying to escape. My main obstacle in doing this however was the slew of stairs that never led the way I thought they were going to and were utterly confusing. At one point I began following a wiener dog up the stark white, wooden stairs, but he led me farther astray than I was when I was alone. I woke up right as I reached the top of the stairs and came to a balcony which overlooked a thirty story building. I felt trapped and realized that the only way down was through the stairs or to jump. My eyes opened to reality before I made this decision. I have no idea what that was about. I’d blame it on the meds and fumes if not for the similarities to other dreams I’ve had.


I rolled over and grabbed my phone only to find five new text messages from my Spanish partner asking which vocab words I had on my section of our script. That was a great thought to wake up to. I have a strong, passionate hate for that class, and I didn’t want to begin my Sunday that way. Oh well, it needed to be done.  


Now that I’m typing this I’m listening to a selection of John Mayer songs on Youtube while smelling the baked potatoes in the oven for lunch. I don’t want to even think about all the homework I have to do today, but I don’t have a choice. Again, I’m thanking the good Lord that I don’t have school tomorrow.

Through my Eyes



Well that’s all for now guys. So until next time, Keep on Dreaming &*)

~ Rose

I don’t know much about creative writing programs. But they’re not telling the truth if they don’t teach, one, that writing is hard work, and, two, that you have to give up a great deal of life, your personal life, to be a writer.
Doris Lessing
Okay, so it’s not summer yet, for me at least. I still have another week and a half, but as I mentioned yesterday, I have begun training for my summer job. We didn’t meet at the pool yesterday, but at our local recreational center. Personally I find meeting there a bit strange for the center, nestled behind the local middle school, is a know hangout for drug addicts of all kinds. But whatever. I wrote a quick, on the fly poem about the experience:

Six strangers

Thrown together in a room

Forced onto the solitary

Half moon couch.

Just enough space between

So they won’t touch


Too close for comfort

Fiddling awkwardly with

Their pens; trying to listen

To the pair up front

How is it

That soon

They will spend

Nearly everyday


Honestly, other than the slight awkwardness, it wasn’t that bad. I only somewhat recognized two of them. One, a boy who has worked at the pool for years, and two, a girl in the grade below me. Mostly yesterday we went over the employee Manuel rules such as no smoking, drinking, PDA, eating the food for free, yada yada. Typical stuff. Our uniforms this year will consist of khakis, a lime green polo, and a deep red visor. I feel the need to break out in Christmas songs already. I’m kind of hoping they nix the visors.
I like my managers so far, though they are each others’ opposites. The girl is tall, perky, and a total drama kid (I know because she told me in the interview) so I felt an instant connection there. She seems really nice and open and is probably the one I will go to when I need help. The guy on the other hand is much more mellow. Except for a few quips here and there, he remained pretty much silent.He has the sort of dry sense of humor that I tend to like, but just like in the interview, I feel more apt to talk to the girl. She seems to be more in charge anyway.
There were only five of us there when I first arrived, all girls. The boy showed up a half hour late, and apparently there were four others who just didn’t  come at all. I have a feeling I will get plenty of hours this summer, considering my entire schedule is open. We are guaranteed twenty hours, and obtaining the rest will depend on our own actively searching to sub in for the other employees.
Today, I signed of for the two to four training shift in which we will begin cleaning the concessions side of things. I know that training is necessary, but I find myself wishing that it was already June seventh so I could start the actual job side of things. The two hour clips are merely teasers of what’s to come, and I am more than excited to jump in and get my hands dirty.
Needless to say, I feel like the majority of my social life will come from work. All this time at work will leave little left over for my writing, and I need my writing. I’ve gone without it before, and I do not want to go through that again. Writing in and of itself is work. It’s difficult to come up with appropriate words and actions and characters for a plot, but it’s a work that I truly love to do.
I’m glad that this is Memorial Day weekend because, despite my obvious lack of rest and sanity in the last week, I still have a lot to do, that for the most part I don’t want to. My science teacher extended the due date on those six posters to Tuesday, but I’ve yet to have a chance to even begin working on them. Then I have my Spanish Final Project which the teacher told us of two days ago and wants us to present on Tuesday, that forces us to act like we’re on a cooking show and show people how to make No Bake Cookies while having a memorized script with twenty negative and affirmative commands and twenty five vocabulary words (which is difficult because very few of the vocab words have anything to do with cooking). Between my project partner and I, we have each about a half a page of script to memorize. Plus we have a page of translations she wants done by Tuesday. Then I have about twenty Geometry problems to solve by Wednesday, and three essays for wellness due by Thursday. *sigh* I don’t know how I’m going to get it all done.
On top of this, I still desperately need to plot out my Camp Nano novel. Camp starts in six days and I have no idea how I’m going to manage that on top of everything else. I suppose though, that each time I jump into this train of literary abandon life is crazy, but I somehow always make it through. I mean, real life does not stop just because you want to write; you must make time or go without writing. I want writing to be my career one day, and the only way I can do this is to choose writing. It really is an either or; give it your all, or forget about it.
My friends do not understand this line of thinking. Whenever I respond to one of ‘let’s hangout’ texts with I’m busy writing, they always respond with ‘you’re always writing’. Well of course I’m always writing. The only way to improve at something is to practice a lot. I want to tell them that if I’m writing and I respond to or even notice that they have texted me that they are lucky. Somehow, I don’t feel like they would take that the right way. Seriously though, they should be used to it by now.
Through my Eyes
Well that’s all for now guys. So until next time, Keep on Dreaming &*)

Natalie Goldberg ~ Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath. Nothing is that important. Just lie down ~


Today was nearly unbearably too long, especially after an hour long awards assembly which, when it finally came to a close, had us so tired and downright bored that the class period after that felt like its own personal kind of hell.  Not to mention my last class was going over in extensive detail of all the ways that energy drinks are bad for you. Although, this topic was much more enjoyable then that of two days ago when that featured images of meth addicts and people who had been victims of drunk driving accident. The only redeeming quality of that class is that I sit right next to the guy I like.
There were two bright spots of this day. First, was lunch when my biology teacher dressed up as one of the flying monkeys on Wizard of Oz as was the agreement if we raised enough money for this fundraiser the school held a few weeks ago. He walked through the outdoor commons during lunch surrounded by an entourage of yearbook photographers. Second came during my drama class as we were practicing for our final scenes. My group is doing a modern Cinderella in which two godmothers, one good and one bad, are trying to sway Cindy’s mind on something she has planned. (I’m the evil godmother *smirks*) What made this a bright spot however, was our forcing one of the senors to take our parts, first as Cinderella, and then as both of the godmothers. That kid is hilarious, and I sincerely hope he pursues a career in entertainment.
As for this moment I am preparing to go to job training which starts in a half an hour while simultaneously watching Two and a Half Men and listening to Michael Buble. I’m incredibly nervous for this, but I should get going. I’ll post again tomorrow.
Through my Eyes
Well that’s all for now, So until next time, Keep on Dreaming &*)

Moments of Beauty

Our moments of inspiration are not lost though we have no particular poem to show for them; for those experiences have left an indelible impression, and we are ever and anon reminded of them.
Henry David Thoreau

So, a few months ago my sister and I made the long journey of a road-trip that ended in Spokane, Washington for a concert there. We arrived several hours before said concert, so after driving around in circles to find the restaurant we wanted, and a short stint at one of the many malls there, we went to a nearby park. It was a gorgeous day, and I happened to have my camera handy as we took a leisurely stroll through the paths (and off them if I could convince her to go that way) snapping photos as I saw fit. I decided that I would share a few of these shots with you, my dear blog readers.
Through My Eyes
Well that’s all for now, so until next time, Keep on Dreaming &*)

My Youtube Top Five

Life is like Youtube. Everything we do, we get comment from people. They share it to other people. And they’ll decide to like us or dislike.


As I do not have a lot of brainpower tonight to devote to blogging some profound, thought provoking piece, I decided to share with you my top 5 favorite youtube channels.


These guys started it all for me. Brothers John and Hank Green began this channel a few years back when they decided to go a year without text-filled communication. Soon, people caught on and began watching there video messages to each other and a community was born; the Nerdfighters. The brothers are hilarity personified, as they go through their videos showing off their rock hard nerd core awesomeness. Often, they try to approach topics that no one else would attempt toward a teen filled audience, and they do so with grace, clarity, and the ever present entertainment factor that they bring each time the step in front of a camera. You guys should definitely check them out.


I mentioned her in yesterday’s post, but I feel she deserves a place on this list. Jackson is an author of several books, many of which are retelling of classic fairytale in a modern light.  I have only read her first book, Sister’s Red, but I can tell you it was pretty awesome, in fact I read it all in one night, staying up to five am and abandoning any rational thoughts of sleep. It was that good. Her youtube videos are funny, insightful, and downright awesome. I wish more people knew about her, for I always look forward to seeing her videos.

3. Charlie McDonnell

Oh, Charlie. This vlogger is the most adorable, humble, seemingly awkward person, but these qualities are the perfect balance for what he does. He puts an extreme amount of time and effort into his videos, and thus they are a very high quality of work, though they don’t always come out in a reasonable amount of time. But when your only complaint about someone is how often they put out their amazing work, they definitely deserve some attention. Watch him, even if its for nothing else but to be serenaded by his swoon-worthy English accent.

4. Dan Rezler

Dan is another adorable vlogger, but adorable in the funny yet scientifically and wonderfully geeky. His videos are also educational for the most part, and are always a joy to watch. Plus, he too has a great voice.

5. Alex Goot

Speaking of great voices, my number five choice on youtube vloggers is one that is less vlog more music. Alex Goot does amazing covers of popular songs, doing them 100 percent better than the original artists could ever dream of singing them, as well as some original music. He is an amazing musician, and is one of those artists that I can just watch his entire playlist and I will love every song and video.  Plus, he too is adorably geeky.


Through my Eyes

Well that’s all for now guys, so until next time, Keep on Dreaming


Eric Hoffer: “The feeling of being hurried is not usually the result of living a full life and having no time. It is on the contrary born of a vague fear that we are wasting our life. When we do not do the one thing we ought to do, we have no time for anything else- we are the busiest people in the world.”


I feel as though I have not been able to catch my breath today. Even now, as I am typing this up, I am simultaneously researching for my science project and editing, again, my English paper. I skipped my last class in school today (excused by my parents, of course,) leaving at about two o’clock so that I would be able to pick up the paperwork for my new job, and open a bank account which was necessary, due to the pool’s new direct deposit requirement.Grabbing the paperwork was the easiest part of my day, as I was assisted by a kind old lady who highlighted the parts I needed to fill out, and explained some of the more technical details pertaining to taxes and such.

When we called ahead, the bank said that opening a bank account would take only fifteen minutes.Riggggghhhhttttt.Almost three hours later, everyone involved was pretty annoyed about the whole process. When we first got in the bank, we were asked to wait ten minutes for a ladyin training to assist us. I stress this because the time it took was more than partially due to her slowness. About forty-five minutes into our meeting with her, she tells us that my school ID, which works for everything else in the world, would not be accepted her and that I would have to get a State Issued one. Great. Just Great.

So we went to the office where ID and Driver’s Licenses are issued, and were met by a rude, gossipy woman who informed us we would need my birth certificate to get it. So we drove home, shuffled around boxes, found the safe and returned to the offices, paper certifying my birth in tow. When we got back, another rude lady met us and told us that my mom had to have an in state drivers license and a piece of mail addressed to her. This, of course, did not make us happy. Plus my sister had a doctors appointment that she was already late for, so we were left with no choice but to let me stay there, and call in my dad, away from his job, to come show an in state driver’s license. Fifteen zillion trivial questions, and one bad picture later I had my temporary ID and was on my way to finish opening that account. FinishingThat only took another hour.

When I was finally able to go home, I scarfed down a quick sandwich and promptly began working on my mountain of homework, as well as listening/half-watching a live show with Jackson Pearce ( ) on how she goes about outlining. Upon finishing that I jumped in for a quickie shower, totally fictionalized an interview that I was supposed to give to a person who lived through the sixties (Sorry teacher, I just don’t know anyone that I actually talk to that lived through that period of time) filled out that paperwork, wrote up the paper on said fictionalized interview, continued researching and editing and now typing this. Okay, so blogging should fall pretty low on my list of things to do in a day, but at the moment, it is my only mental reprieve. Lord knows I need it.

~Through My Eyes~


Well that’s all for now guys, I must be off to bed so I can get up early and do more homework. Yay!

So until next time, Keep on Dreaming &*)


Puppy Pow Wow

All art is exorcism. I paint dreams and visions too; the dreams and visions of my time. Painting is the effort to produce order; order in yourself. There is much chaos in me, much chaos in our time.
Otto Dix

I don’t have a lot of time today to write a well thought out post. The reason for this lay mainly on the notebook page of things I need to get done this week, most of which is either due tomorrow, or seriously needs to be started tonight; namely, that insanity packed musical screenplay which I was told was due next Thursday has been bumped up. He’s asking for a working script by tomorrow. My gosh. Plus I have to type up another rough draft to this narrative essay for my English class, adding in absolutes and appositives as well as fixing and adding things according to our peer evaluations. On top of this I have seventy five math problems I need to do, five workbook pages and a big vocab list for Spanish, and six posters on the animal kingdoms for biology. Gah.
In other, somewhat unexpected news, the job for the pool just called asking me if I wanted the position. I was like *inward squee* Yes! What makes this unexpected is that they had called me on Saturday telling me that they had already filled it, which was disappointing, but I hadn’t really  thought that I had done well on the interview.
Anyway to supplement this quickie post, I decided to post some of the photos of my and my brother’s dogs which I took yesterday. The Cocker spaniel is named Buster, and my brothers dog, Ginger, is the beagle. Enjoy!
And for the Through My Eyes portion of today’s post
Well, that’s all for now guys, So until next time, Keep on Dreaming &*)