Tag Archive: writing


“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” -Andre Gide
Sorry I didn’t post yesterday guys, but I had a bit of a packed schedule. The beginning of that, after school of course, was quite a big change for me. One of my sister’s friends works up at a hair salon in a big city a few hours away, and she was in town for the week for a wedding. While she was here my sister set up an appointment for me to get my hair cut. It’s really short; barely touching my shoulders. I’ve never had it this short because my dad has a thing against us cutting our hair *eye roll* which is why he is currently both pissed off and not speaking to us. I don’t care, I love the way it looks, and I got lots of complements from people at school. According to my crush, the second person to comment, “it looks nice. Good… really good.” Of course blushing soon ensued. But oh, it was worth it 🙂

This is the mark of the changes that will be happening over the next few years. Already I have had my first job application, interview, turn down, and acceptance, along with my first bank account and State Id (which I have yet to get the plastic, official version of.) This summer I’m looking forward the additional freedoms that a job will bring. Plus, three of my good friends are lifeguards so we get to see each other a lot. I also plan to spend a lot of time walking around town and going to the park and such. I want a tan, and just in general, out of the freaking house whose walls have become  like prison bars in my mind more each day.

Looking past that, I also plan to start applying to colleges soon, which will take up a good portion of my time and is sure to cause rifts in the family ties. My father thinks I’m going to the one closest to our town, boy will he be surprised to learn that that is my last plan, my fallback if everything else falls through. Before college my best friend and I plan to take a summer long road trip up the west coast. This is yet another plan to which my father is blissfully unaware.

In other news, Camp nano starts today, and I have yet to write anything on it. I’m headed that way now, as soon as I finish this post. I have the basic outline started, but I’m so nervous to start. This is try number two. We’ll see how it goes. Wish me luck!

Through my Eyes

Well that’s all for now guys. 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 &*)

A Review Day

“A good book should leave you… slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading it”. ~William Styron, interview, Writers at Work, 1958
I have read a fair amount of books in the past year, and any of you who have read some of my first posts will know that I have a slight, or rather, considerable obsession with words, both previously written, and those haunting my own brain. So I thought maybe this would be a good time to share with you one of my more recent reads that has stuck with me.

The book is a fairly recently published one, of the YA variety. I found it while wandering between the stacks in my local library (one of my favorite activities). The title, /Stay With Me/ by Paul Griffin had me reaching for it at first glance. What can I say, it sounded like a desperate love story. I am a major sucker for a good tragic love story. The book fell good in my hand, and the cover was intriguing enough (Looking through a chain link fence you see two lovers pressed together in a kiss, a pit-bull lying, smiling, at their feet) to encourage me to crack the spine. After scanning the synopsis I knew that this would be one of the beautiful darlings that I would be taking home with me for a few weeks. It only took be two days (or should I say nights, I don’t really have time during the school days to read) to finish, and I was left breathless, and wanting more.

This novel was the perfect mix between character, and plot driven story arcs. For the plot side of things, we started with the meeting. That slow, slightly hesitant and utterly confusing game of the beginning of relationships. Then the actual romance, following by the tragedy. The one moment that changed everything. Within just a few pages the author had the entire course of the plot turned on its ear, leaving the reader with a feeling of helplessness and sorrow for the characters. I thought there was no possible way that the author could wrap this story up into a satisfying perfect little package… I thought it would be a lifetime movie imprinted within the pages of the book. And I was right, in a way. This book had all the elements of a lifetime movie that keeps me up at three am almost every Saturday throughout my summers, but instead of the inevitable cliff hanger ending that wraps things up in the most unsatisfying way, Griffin pulls it together at the last moment, throwing in a twist I definitely could not foresee, but made so much sense if you had keyed in to his little hints. I have a lot of respect for his ability to pull this story together. It may not have ended the way I was hoping for, but really, it was much /much/ better. (sorry I’m being vague, but I don’t want to spoil the book for you)

This book was so much more than a love story. It was a journey of friendships, of the fine line between right and wrong, of what really makes a good person, of a boys love for dogs, and of the characters relationships with each other, their family, and the world. I feel the best type of book is the kind that makes you feel as though you are an intruder; like you are spying and eavesdropping on the lives of these people. It almost gives you this sense of shame for doing so, but you are so caught up in the world that you are not able to focus on that. Griffin does a great job at this, giving you bits and pieces of the story, letting you clutch onto perfectly timed back story presents, and allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions, with just a gentle, subtle, perfectly crafted hand on the small of your back, guiding you along.

In a lot of novels you read now a days you are likely to get either plot or characters, but almost instantly you are introduced to this spectacular, flawed, and interesting cast. The story is told from two perspectives. First we have Mack, a tough closed off fifteen year old who has trouble looking people in the eye. He has a potent loathing for violence, yet his quick to fire temper completely embodies that. The boy is shy, a little bit of a slow learner, which has caused him to drop out of school, but he is so sweet. There is this soft spot for the underdog that only a few can see. He has a habit of picking dogs up off the street, specifically after they’ve been in dog fights, and taking them home to train them. Mack allows very few people to see this side of him, while actively hiding it from all others.

Then there is Cece; the smart, sassy, opinionated girl with a great love for cheesecake and all things food, and a major fear of dogs. We meet her as she is studying for this big test that could place her in a prestigious high school and on her way up and out of her town.

Together they are perfect, yet complete opposites. She’s straight forward and sharp, where he is shy and closed off. She has the world on a string and can do and go anywhere she pleases, while he has potential that is likely to never be nurtured, making his life seem to be stuck in place, if not going backward. They are each others’ yin and yang.

They are supported by a handful of vivid persons. There’s Vic, the wise old owner of the restaurant they both work at, who seems to have an uncanny knowledge of what everyone needs, whether they know it or not. Anthony, Cece’s older brother who is an all around good guy and has a gift and strong desire to make people happy. Along with their mother who is an alcoholic, Mack’s father who is gruff and also an alcoholic, and a handful of other minor characters.

What really makes this book so good, so memorable though, is the voice of each of these characters. Griffin has an ear for how people really talk, and his characters are so unique and amazing. You’ll have to read this to see what I mean, but his words truly jump off the page. It was a really great book.

((All this being said I would like to mention that this book is very biased, and I suggest you read it to make your own conclusions and opinions about it. I hope you aren’t disappointed.))

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

“Life isn’t about the destination but the journey that gets us there”
Guys… I’m not even sure where to begin this post. I am a sincerely bad blogger; I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I’ve visited my little blog ((or more so, the fact that there are still people visiting it after all this time. That is beyond amazing guys <3)) I feel as though I have been simply tripping through life these past several months. Life is going by in a blur, and I have so many great, blogable stories that are just far too outdated to tell now. *sighs* So I guess I will just summarize the last couple of months the best I can.

First off, I was in another play; this one with a much smaller part in a much wider known /musical/ entitled ‘Once upon a Mattress’. I was just in the ensemble, but it was so much fun, and /so/ much work that I was undoubtedly grateful for the role I received.(especially since the guy I like was also in the play) I put so much time and energy into this performance that afterward my day to day life seemed…. as though it was missing a major piece, even as my schedule has been crammed and I feel as though I’m running a mile a minute.
I’ve been working a lot lately on a newish novel which takes a lot of back story writing, research, drowning in depressing music, and slowly scratching of pieces of my soul to envelope my words in. I will post more about this novel in another post (oh looky there, silly little me promising another post. I hope I can hold up to that) but this story truly means a lot to me, and I feel as though I must write it.

I have, somewhat stupidly and quite crazily, volunteered to write the screen play for the historical musical my US history teacher is putting together. I don’t know why I thought I’d have time to do this, or could handle the stress, but it’s all too late now. I’m knee deep and waist high in my own insanity. Way to go Rosey.

I’m in the middle of preparing to for all my finals that’ll be coming up here in the next few weeks. This being said, mostly what I’m doing, aside from studying, is trying to prep my brain for the inevitable mush that it will be turning into soon *nodnod*

In June I will begin my second bout of Camp Nano and be writing my little heart out on said forely mentioned novel. On top of this, I’ve been growing closer to some of my Nano friends, expanding to chatsites, facebook, and the great possibility of a vlogbrothers style youtube collaboration, which should be fun and exciting. We’ll see.

And last, but certainly not least, we have what I was doing today, which was my very first interview for a job at my local pool. I have no idea how that went but I keep replaying every mistake in my head over and over. I stumbled over words, said stupid things that took too long for me to think of, and was shaking through most of the cross examination. Still, I should find out soon whether or not I got the job. I’m quite anxious to see.

Well folks, that’s all for now, so until next time, Keep on dreaming &*)

The Return of the Blogger

“Many people hear voices when no-one is there. Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at the walls all day. Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.”
((((((First off and for most I would like to make an announcement that I have my first subscriber! *Insert fan-girl squeals and hopping up and down here* You know who you are and thank-you soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…..(Three hours later)…ooooooooooooooo much! (take big gasp of breath) Now back to you normally scheduled programming.))))))
Hello again blog. Long time no see (or write). I have come to the conclusion that my mind is total mush. All ability to think those analytical type of thought has flown out the window with the sixty + miles-per-hour wind that has recently flooded my home city/town/place. Which I suppose, for the purpose of Spring Break, is fine…. But I start back at school tomorrow and am not sure how well all this is actually going to work out. So here’s to giving my friends a little enjoyment at watching my unthinkingness (It’s a word now :p)
Spring break. The phrase brings about a yearning picture of sun, beaches, swimming, ect. One of many breaks that the school children find themselves unconsciously counting down the days for; spring fever runs amuck attacking every soul who dares to hope for a small relief of their ordinary school-week schedule. And though no matter how much we over think the wondrous, dare I say magical, possibilities of this week, we are almost always let down. Now as I find myself curled up in this stupidly broken recliner, tapping out my thoughts onto this keyboard, and glowering out of my large living-room window at the two inches of fresh snow that have recently drifted down from the heavens, I have that terrible sinking feeling that there will be many more breaks just like this one. And I have forced myself once again to vow never to string such high expectations on a silly little week again… I will fail at this though. I, as most of us do, know the great pleasure that comes from “Planning” out how my mini-vacation will come about. Saying this I have no doubt that come next break my imagination’s hand crank will begin to turn on autopilot as the mystical opportunities stretch before its eyes with child-like wonder.
Now if you have ever read one of my other posts, you would know that the quotes up top generally set off the tone of the entire ‘article’. Well what I was referring to my amazingly super-unstoppable *~*“Writer’s Block”*~* (Insert chilling music here: dun dun dun dun…..) *audience gasp, filled with fear for their own creative outlet* My ode to this retarded road bump began early last Saturday and has not failed to hold steady until…. Today. *Sighs* a whole week wasted. Or so I thought. But in retrospect I can see how helpful this little nuisance was, for in my ingenious attempts to thwart *~*his*~* dastardly leachyness (Again my word: I don’t care about grammar at the moment) I did many a thing that would not have been possible had I been chained to my laptop all week. I cooked, cleaned, did a LOT of yoga, walked/ran on my treadmill, played with my dog, hopelessly stalked the Nano forums (both YWP{Young writers program} and regular), read, watched movies, discovered how to fix green tea that that it doesn’t taste like an herb filled water (Just add milk) listened to endless amounts of music, created a family tree for my MC(Main Character) in my Nano Novel, and gave my *~*Story Dreamer*~* much to think about. So all and all my week was… okay.
One thing that I have learned from all of this is what should be a written rule somewhere Thou shall not cook whilst thy mind is mush.(Unless of course it’s three A.M) It’s a good general rule to live by.(Switch to third person)
At first she started simple, warm up some leftovers she thought to herself. Easy enough for any fool… or at least that’s what she tried to convince herself. The sad truth was that poor Rose was not just any fool. When attempting to remove the bowl of food from the microwave, she found herself ‘forgetting’ that the dish would be hot causing her to reach in, grab it and promptly drop it to the floor. This action sent her into a spiraling furry of a race to trap her and her brother’s dogs into the master bedroom in hopes of stopping their quest to eat and get the porcelain stuck into every cranny of their paws. At the same time she went into robotic motions as she scooped, swept, and mopped the floor surrounding the crime scene, all before the pups had opportunity to go ‘potty’ all over the nice hardwood floors. Rose succeeded, but just barely; and after this ordeal she surrendered to the skipping of that meal.
The next day at the strike of noon (or shortly thereafter) Rose found herself looking at another strikingly simple task; cook canned chili. After opening the can and dumping the contents into a small metal pan over a medium-high stovetop heat, the beautiful hypnotizing procrastination powers of The YWP Nano forums sucked her in, erasing every thought of watching and stirring the cooking goop…. That is until she smelt the putrid aroma of burned chili smoke and caked on charcoaled chili. Rose was forced to start over. Following shortly after came the idea to make boxed brownies for her sister and parents who had taken advantage of the break to go gallivanting to who knows where in the country while she stayed at home taking care of the house and dog. After they were ready and cooled, Rose covered the pan with foil and place it in the microwave for ‘safe keeping.’ Promptly after this, her brother (who had recently moved back into some house around the Rose’s town) with his radar for baked-goods came stomping into her house. He slammed open the microwave door and continued to devour the entire 9 x 9 pan within the hour and without any further thought of who they were truly meant for.
Later that night (Or technically the next morning for it was near two A.m) due to her usual insomniatic habits, Rose decided to put in one last desperate attempt to cook her family (Not her bro) a welcome home gifts. By four in the morning the Magic Cookie Bars were prepared, cooked, cooled, and covered and Rose found herself warmly wrapped in the blankets of her bed.
The next morning Rose brings the 13×9 pan of Marshmallow-coconut-semi-sweet-and-white-chocolate-grahamcrackery-goodness to her room, placing it on her bed (the only available spot to put it) and shutting the door ‘securely’ behind her. Little did she know (remember) her door was unable to latch properly. Her dog on the other hand did, and he scratched it open and consumed the entire pan. (end of third person story) As you can tell, I wasn’t having much luck with the kitchen.
The above symbols appeared in the text referring to my personification of my Inner Editor, Spell checker, Story Dreamer, and Writer’s block.
• My Inner Editor is a guy named Tom. He has chocolate brown medium length (for a guy) hair, always wears a black suit, white dress suit red tie and really shiny black suit, has jade green eyes, wears black Clark Kent style glasses, is twenty seven and always has coffee in a white china mug. Sometimes he gets really annoying, but I love and couldn’t live without his help.
• My Story Dreamer is amazing. She has shiny pitch black straight hair that has rainbow tips, bangs and is shoulder length. She is short to the extreme, loves wearing all kinds of wacky clothes, especially dresses, always has on these shiny bright red heals, always has on a crescent moon shaped pendent necklace, and is completely covered in glitter. Oh, and her eyes are rainbow too.
• My Spell Checker is a slacker, and has not appeared for five years. I think he’s lost, gone completely MIA , and I can’t seem to remember what he looks like.
• My Writers block is an evil dark greenish-black tar-like creature that leaches on to my head and scrambles my brain, making it nearly impossible to write a word.
And that’s all for now. So until the next post Keep On Dreaming &*)

Hi Again

“Insanity is my only means of relaxation”
Alright, so I haven’t posted in…… like forever. Honestly, I haven’t had a lot of free time lately. I’m back now so I will start back to the week of the play.
Wow, what a week. Hectic, crazy, non-stop and yes, I feel insanity setting in. It’s pretty sad when you can honestly say that Monday was the best day of the week; especially when you hate Mondays. What’s even sadder is saying that going to your classes was the most relaxing part of your week. *Yawn* So Monday I had to stay after to help paint the scene flats, Tuesday and Wednesday were spent from 6-9 at rehearsals, then after that I had to stay up ‘till three AM on both nights to get Homework done. And then got up at 5 to get ready for school. On the night of the play I fell asleep on my Homework, so I had to finish up the next morning, and someone spilt apple cider all over it, smearing the ink. So I had to redo everything in five minutes.
The play on Thursday that we performed for our parents went fairly well. The last scene had a pie fight, a sword fight, and my own demise. We had never practiced the scene with the actual whipped cream pies before so when we did, the people through them a little too forcefully and it went across the entire stage. The cream was everywhere, and after we had taken our bows, we set off on a weird adrenalin hype slipping around on stage and being overly noisy.
That Friday we had to perform the play for second period classes, stopping at intermission and starting back up during sixth. I.E we had to keep our stupid makeup on all day long. It was terribly done by our director, and was rather embarrassing. But that was quickly forgotten when we started the second half of the play.
We had a narrator as a character, and he comes out to introduce us but accidentally starts off for a different scene. When he realized this, he pauses, says, ‘Crap, that was the wrong line…… Mrs. B! Mrs. B! What do I do Mrs. B!” running off stage while we all crack up, while trying not to let him see. (Mrs. B was the helper who was following along on the script to feed us our lines if we had forgotten them. The poor guy. He soon recovered and the rest of the play went on seamlessly.
The next week was the beginning of my new semester. I now have speech (Which in and of itself scares the crap out of me), art, and a class that produces our school literary magazine. I have no classes with one of my best friend, and only have lunch with her once a week, which is utterly upsetting. The good news though is that my friends are finally starting to come out of their depressed slump.
This week I have two big research projects to do, plus my grade is to have an assembly on which no one knows what it’s over, though we all assume that we’re going to get yelled at. Haha, but in random news, I have found an addicting art form: Drabbles! These are 100 word short stories that are just bundles of fun!
Anyway, that’s all that I can think of at this moment, so until next time, Keep on Dreamin’ and thanks for readin’ &*)

Hectic Beginnings

I don’t think we realise just how fast we go until you stop for a minute and realise just how loud and how hectic your life is, and how easily distracted you can get.
Meg Ryan


This week was long. And really that’s the best way to describe it. Why is it that the first half of the school year practically disappears before our eyes, but the second half moves at a snail’s pace? You could see on the faces of my fellow classmates that I was not the only one who has felt the severe shift it pace. Eyes look hollow, cheeks sag, and everyone walks like they’re zombies. In the words of a friend in my history class, everyone is so used to staying up ‘till six and sleeping ‘till noon that we can’t handle the early mornings. I’ll just be glad to get my semi normal sleeping patterns back.

There is both sad and happy news floating through our school hallways. One of the most perverted and twisted guy’s in our grade is switching to online school starting after the end of first semester. Girls and boys alike rejoice at this discovery. But on the other hand, one of my close friends is also going to be homeschooled in a few weeks. Apparently, he got caught not only dealing, but smoking Marijuana the Friday before Christmas break. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to get him to stop this nasty habit; not only for his sake, but for everyone around him, but her just refuses to listen. His parents, of course, flipped out and are convinced that the school is to blame. What sucks more than that is his parents are so strict that he has no cell-phone, no email, technically he’s not allowed to have a facebook either, but he made an account without their knowledge, and they would freak if they knew that he was even friends with girls, so I have virtually no way to keep in contact with him. My only hope is that this seclusion will have a positive effect on his attitude toward drugs. There are other, more tragic news yet, but I will not put that here for the sake of the friend it pertains to.

Aww yes, well if I thought it was a busy week last week, this week is going to be even worse. The end of the first semester is next Thursday I think, not sure though, and so the play for my drama class is on this Thursday at 7 and I have to be there at six.  So on Tuesday and Wednesday I have to rehearse from six to nine pm. Which means that I have two hours in between that and when I get home at four to do my homework, eat, shower, and do my hair. O_o I have a feeling that either my hair is gonna suck those days, or I’ll be delaying half of my homework until morning. More than likely it will be the latter. Then on Friday we perform the play for the entire school during 2nd and 6th periods. In English I’m going to have an essay to write, and in math I have a major test, plus all the studying for next week’s finals.  Also, I have to do a debate over child labor in history and my teacher thought I was the best one in our group to do two things, so not only do I have to argue against someone, but I also have to create a closing statement in five minutes. *hyperventilates* I hate public speaking.  So basically, I will be getting absolutely zero sleep.

What have I done this weekend? Writing, writing, and more writing. I wrote the first draft of that essay, I worked a little bit on adding to Out of the shadows, and editing the first fifty pages of that for my CW final project. I have my cover picture for that book too!Out of the Shadows Cover

Oo, and then I also came up with an idea for my next novel! I can’t wait to start working on it! Yes, and last night I watched two movies with my sister; Date Night (Hilarious, thrilling, awesome) and Flipped (Sweet, funny, romantic). In other words, they were both really good.  My new favorite song (I forgot to mention.)  is Raise your glass by Pink.  It is awesome!  And last Sunday my mom cut my hair so that I have bangs and…….. hold the drum roll please…….. my dad actually liked it! I was shocked, he has never liked bangs before.

Basically I won’t have time to post until next weekend. That is unless I can get on during one of my sleepless nights. *sigh*

So until next time, thanks for reading and Keep on dreaming &*)