Today was a day for chilling. Nice day, very pretty. A little cool, but a vast improvement from the frigid winter days- I think spring is coming (yay). The snow is melting, only a few stray patches left lingering in the protection of the shadow my house provides. They will be exterminated soon. At least I hope.
I love sitting on the porch. Just to get that out there- I do I do I do. Sometimes I bring my music with me, but its even better just to listen to the sounds of my neighborhood. Kids playing up the street, the neighbor boy practicing lacrosse and failing, the girl across the street gingerly backing the car out of the driveway for her first time driving, the dogs barking at each other... It's just nice, and I can't imagine a childhood without a neighborhood to live it in.
My aunt and uncle came out for a visit today as well. They stayed for a couple of hours and just left a couple of minutes ago. That was nice, I don't see them often. Anyways, it was a nice day all around.
Part two: age. I despise turning older. Birthdays I'm okay with, but having to acknowledge that your one year older is excruciating to me. Even though I'm young, I still don't like it, and I shall impart on you the history of my not-wanting-to-turn-older. *ahem* The first age I didn't want to have was my 6th. I liked being five, and I was afraid to go to full-time school. It was scary, and I barely got the idea that I wouldn't be able to eat lunch with my dad before going off to school anymore (I had afternoon kindergarten). Terrifying, but I loved the cake and the clown, Mr. Twisty. (I don't remember if I had a clown at my birthday party, but it's a pretty good chance.) Second was ten. The double-digit thing is a pretty big jump, there. *tear* Then came thirteen- teenager. I had heard stories about how bad teenagers were, and I didn't want to turn into some monster like people talked about. When people would ask my mom how old i was going to be, they'd hear "thirteen" and say "I'm so sorry." I was like- what the hell is going to happen to me?! Scary thing. Then sixteen. I did not want to turn 16. Fifteen was perfect for the moment- in between ten and twenty - like some song has in its lyrics. I was proud that I was just as close to my childhood as to adulthood (favoring the child side, obviously). This, so far, is my history of age-hating, though I don't really like turning anything- these were the worst (so far).
SO my birthday is tomorrow... eek! I don't wanna! I will accept the presents, family, parties, and cake, but please, I JUST started saying 16 when people ask how old I am as opposed to 15. Don't change it now that I've got it!
Damn.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
What I want... really, really badly
Okay, so I've got two major wishes here. And I'll take either one gladly.
First up- being a kid again. I know- I'm not quite an old one, or even middle aged (or even close to it), but I want to be five again all the same. How awesome is the age of five? When school was fun, there was a new letter and song about that letter added to the alphabet string every week, when it was exciting to be able to read a few simple sentences, when kindergarten was a half day and you didn't want to leave school. Kickball games in the neighborhood every other night, trading off with ghost in a graveyard and a weekly man-hunt game. When parents would have their own "summoning call" to make their kids come running home for a snack and bedtime. When the doorbell ringing always meant that my two best friends were here to ask me if I wanted to play. *sigh*
I started to lose math when they started using letters instead of numbers, I dread going to school and wish to leave early if only (if ONLY) I could get up the nerve to skip out, and books that I want to read versus dry old English class books written by dead white guys are a rare treat. The doorbell only rings when the army send out a guy to ask my older brother if he would please take a look at the pamphlet about the Armed Forces or whatever, those two best friends are people I barely even see, much less talk to. I just took the SATs and am looking at colleges I know I won't go to unless I go to, I take tests, prognostics, REGENTS, APs in May, finals, midterms, DBQs, and the NMSQT. It's tiring. Not that life is all bad now (certainly not) but I don't want to get any older.
I mean, if I'm a good girl in life and I go to heaven, I will be five and in my neighborhood again. That is, if I can place an order like that. I don't know how it'll work, but if God can fix me up with that, I would be tha happiest (angel?) in heaven.
Second on my list (though it should be first, as it is just a smidge more likely than the first), is love. I want to fall in love so much, and I know that sounds school-girlish (I am) and naive and innocent (again, I am) and all that- but I do. Yes, I've gotten the memo that it hurts a hell of a lot sometimes, and that it doesn't always work out the way people plan it to... "It is far better to love and lose than never to love at all." Isn't that a famous quote? And certainly I should imagine that famous quotes are grounded with fact and expirience, no? I want to learn about love, for good or for ill. I can only imagine what I could write with such first hand knowledge. But I'm young yet, so I also understand that I'm not ready for what I'm asking here.
What brought this peice to my list was the book I finished last night. I live for the love scenes- when they awkwardly and haltingly confess their feelings for each other, blushing and stuttering. Sometimes they just straight out dive in for a kiss when he/she isn't expecting it. Ah, it's so nice. So are happily ever afters. And I will immediatly stop talking about this because I just re-read what I've been typing and I have realized how stupid and pathetic I sound... damn.
Anyways, these are my two wishes. The first wish is the one that I want more (at this moment in time at least). Think about it- would you like to be five again? You already know my answer is an overly loud and enthusiastic YEEEEEEEES!
First up- being a kid again. I know- I'm not quite an old one, or even middle aged (or even close to it), but I want to be five again all the same. How awesome is the age of five? When school was fun, there was a new letter and song about that letter added to the alphabet string every week, when it was exciting to be able to read a few simple sentences, when kindergarten was a half day and you didn't want to leave school. Kickball games in the neighborhood every other night, trading off with ghost in a graveyard and a weekly man-hunt game. When parents would have their own "summoning call" to make their kids come running home for a snack and bedtime. When the doorbell ringing always meant that my two best friends were here to ask me if I wanted to play. *sigh*
I started to lose math when they started using letters instead of numbers, I dread going to school and wish to leave early if only (if ONLY) I could get up the nerve to skip out, and books that I want to read versus dry old English class books written by dead white guys are a rare treat. The doorbell only rings when the army send out a guy to ask my older brother if he would please take a look at the pamphlet about the Armed Forces or whatever, those two best friends are people I barely even see, much less talk to. I just took the SATs and am looking at colleges I know I won't go to unless I go to, I take tests, prognostics, REGENTS, APs in May, finals, midterms, DBQs, and the NMSQT. It's tiring. Not that life is all bad now (certainly not) but I don't want to get any older.
I mean, if I'm a good girl in life and I go to heaven, I will be five and in my neighborhood again. That is, if I can place an order like that. I don't know how it'll work, but if God can fix me up with that, I would be tha happiest (angel?) in heaven.
Second on my list (though it should be first, as it is just a smidge more likely than the first), is love. I want to fall in love so much, and I know that sounds school-girlish (I am) and naive and innocent (again, I am) and all that- but I do. Yes, I've gotten the memo that it hurts a hell of a lot sometimes, and that it doesn't always work out the way people plan it to... "It is far better to love and lose than never to love at all." Isn't that a famous quote? And certainly I should imagine that famous quotes are grounded with fact and expirience, no? I want to learn about love, for good or for ill. I can only imagine what I could write with such first hand knowledge. But I'm young yet, so I also understand that I'm not ready for what I'm asking here.
What brought this peice to my list was the book I finished last night. I live for the love scenes- when they awkwardly and haltingly confess their feelings for each other, blushing and stuttering. Sometimes they just straight out dive in for a kiss when he/she isn't expecting it. Ah, it's so nice. So are happily ever afters. And I will immediatly stop talking about this because I just re-read what I've been typing and I have realized how stupid and pathetic I sound... damn.
Anyways, these are my two wishes. The first wish is the one that I want more (at this moment in time at least). Think about it- would you like to be five again? You already know my answer is an overly loud and enthusiastic YEEEEEEEES!
Monday, March 2, 2009
Not My Best Idea
Reading Edgar Allan Poe right before I go to bed? Yeah- not my smartest move, I'll admit. The Fall of the House of Usher, I'm sure, my teacher will assure me is one of the best short stories ever written- but seriously? I don't even want to talk about what it had in it, but I will assure you all of it is 100% dark, 100% creepy, and 50% jibberish. Which, I guess, is what makes it a good short story. Look at it- it has 250% to it. I do not wish to turn the lights off and crawl into bed at this hour after reading Poe. To think I was afraid of the dark before? Pshaw! Poe and midnight darkness just do not mix in my book, and I shall never try to cram any english assignment of this sort before I go to bed ever again, because now I am too jumpy to sleep/ be in the dark/ let my mind wander too far to really think about the damned book.
*deep breath*
Perhaps I will have to do some more homework to scrub the sticky remains of Poe off of my mind? Ah, well- it's really late now, so I think I will risk going to bed.
*panic attack*
*deep breath*
Perhaps I will have to do some more homework to scrub the sticky remains of Poe off of my mind? Ah, well- it's really late now, so I think I will risk going to bed.
*panic attack*
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Again? Yes, again.
So people might believe after that last post that I was well on my way to finishing my writing work. Well, here I am again before you- stuck yet again. But maybe I write this utter defeat too soon. After all, I did have homework and outlining that lasted many hours, participated in family eating-out night today, and had my blood drawn early this morning. I don't really know what drawing blood has to do with my writing habits, but I'm sure it has to be related somehow, right? What else would science be for but to justify every one of my points? Anyway, maybe I'm just plain old tired today. It was a rather long day, and I frankly didn't feel that magnificent as far as health goes. Or on the other hand these could just be stupid excuses. I bet a good author would sit her butt down and bang out another chapter or two anyways, no matter what wee hour of the night it took her to. And I can't even say I have to get to bed early because of schooling- my friend is up way later than I do (yes, usually writing or watching some obscure Japanese manga thingy) and she always seems fine.
Anyhow, I think I shall call this period of time my ideas "incubation time." I had that initial spark last week and jotted a few things down. Well now I am incubating my idea until it is fully matured. That's what I'll tell people anyways because, frankly, it sounds much better than saying it's another one of my procrastination spells. Right?
Ah, why does my muse leave me for so long? She's like a sporadic light bulb that isn't quite broken, instead it flickers for a time and then puffs out again. Whenever she puffs out she stays out for a while.
I should just face it and say I need to whoop my own mind into shape and just write already. It would probably help if I stopped writing this post now. Okay... my goal is to write another 200 words tonight. Not a heck of a lot, I know, but I'll take baby steps here. Starting... now!
Anyhow, I think I shall call this period of time my ideas "incubation time." I had that initial spark last week and jotted a few things down. Well now I am incubating my idea until it is fully matured. That's what I'll tell people anyways because, frankly, it sounds much better than saying it's another one of my procrastination spells. Right?
Ah, why does my muse leave me for so long? She's like a sporadic light bulb that isn't quite broken, instead it flickers for a time and then puffs out again. Whenever she puffs out she stays out for a while.
I should just face it and say I need to whoop my own mind into shape and just write already. It would probably help if I stopped writing this post now. Okay... my goal is to write another 200 words tonight. Not a heck of a lot, I know, but I'll take baby steps here. Starting... now!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Victory is mine!
So I have finally managed to take my story by the horns and get some things done! No longer am I traveling aimlessly in circles! I've been working on a structured outline-thingy for the past couple of days, and it has me completely pumped up. Character sketches, key plot points (but not too-too structured- a little free reign is still the best way to go), and what I need to change and what I don't need to change.
Ah! I can't make this post any longer because I really want to get back to working on it. Progress is finally being made again.
Whee!
Ah! I can't make this post any longer because I really want to get back to working on it. Progress is finally being made again.
Whee!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Valentine's Day Post (The Holiday, Disney Princesses, and Six Words)
So Valentine's day! Whoo-hoo. Not that I have a Valentine or anything, but I think this holiday has the right heart. It's been a little corrupted by the chocolate, card, and flower businesses, but hey- it tries. It's a day to tell those who you love just that- that you love them (no matter who that someone is). It is geared more towards couples, new and old, but hey- what are you going to do? My parents gave me and my bro, code name Jay, a small box of filled chocolates each. I got my parents cards, and I recieved a pink yummy cupcake and some sugar candies from my friends. I forgot to bring my friends in little candies yesterday (again). But it's not about the little presents, or the big ones. I'm okay with this holiday, but I'm not a super fan. The one thing is that I would hate it if I were proposed to on Valentine's Day in the future. For some reason I hate the very idea of it. I want to avoid the cliche of it. I want my guy (when I find him, that it) to be more original than that. Surprise me, make me dinner, give me a bracelet you made yourself, and I will be the happiest person- much happier than the next girl who got a rose and heart candies- again. All of this is, of course, for when I get said guy.
The other thing I wanted to talk about today is classic Disney stories. My spanish teacher let us take out children's books in spanish for the vacation, and I naturally took the collection od Disney stories. I was reading Sleeping Beauty (La Bella Duermiento) to myself last night, realizing that I hadn't had a bedtime story in ten years, and noticed something. Well, actually, I did notice this before, but now especially it seems odd. All of the Princesses are (or are assumed to be near) the age of sixteen. Sixteen when they have adventures and fall in love and get married. Sixteen. I'm sixteen, too, and am nowhere near to any of these things. Maybe I'd like to do some of the things they do, but I can barely imagine it. Marry? That's not even legal at my age, and hasn't been for a LONG time around these here parts. Isn't it kind of creepy that they're all so young?
BUT then I thought about when a lot of these fairy tales were written- a long, long time ago, tales from all over the world. A time when it was normal to marry at that age. Snow White is German, I believe, Cinderella something like that, Beauty and the Beast from France, Sleeping Beauty is also German or something. I don't know about the Little Mermaid- Disney might have created that story themselves. These are the sixteen year old Princesses- or so it seems. Really only Ariel and Aurora/Briar Rose tell us their ages. Belle, Cinderella, Snow White, Jasmine, Mulan (though not really a princess), Megara (also not a princess)- never say specifically how old they are. So then again maybe Disney classics aren't really that odd.
There are also people who are very anti-Disney because the Princesses let the Princes come and rescue them. It's not very feministic, they say, They're nuts in my opinion. Mulan and Megara are strong characters, and even rescue the boys; Belle is compassionate and was willing to trade her life for her father's and falls in love with Beast for who he is on the inside; and Jasmine is a dreamer, brave and smart. And as for Snow White and Cinderella- didn't they deserve their happy ending for their lives of servitude without contempt? Those who lash out at Disney classics are just hurt because they didn't get the happy ending they wanted or thought they deserved. Please, don't deprive your children (especially the girls) of fairy tales just because your life isn't one. They'll understand that a Prince may not just show up at the doorstep as they get older- us girls aren't that stupid, really. Disney classics are good for the soul.
Third topic of the day is the six words thing. My friend, code name Sparkles, had this sociology assignment for homework: write your life's story in six words. Not five, not seven, but six. She had the hardest time with it, and I still don't know just what six words she ended up with in the end. But that got me thinking: what is mine? And I think I've got it.
The other thing I wanted to talk about today is classic Disney stories. My spanish teacher let us take out children's books in spanish for the vacation, and I naturally took the collection od Disney stories. I was reading Sleeping Beauty (La Bella Duermiento) to myself last night, realizing that I hadn't had a bedtime story in ten years, and noticed something. Well, actually, I did notice this before, but now especially it seems odd. All of the Princesses are (or are assumed to be near) the age of sixteen. Sixteen when they have adventures and fall in love and get married. Sixteen. I'm sixteen, too, and am nowhere near to any of these things. Maybe I'd like to do some of the things they do, but I can barely imagine it. Marry? That's not even legal at my age, and hasn't been for a LONG time around these here parts. Isn't it kind of creepy that they're all so young?
BUT then I thought about when a lot of these fairy tales were written- a long, long time ago, tales from all over the world. A time when it was normal to marry at that age. Snow White is German, I believe, Cinderella something like that, Beauty and the Beast from France, Sleeping Beauty is also German or something. I don't know about the Little Mermaid- Disney might have created that story themselves. These are the sixteen year old Princesses- or so it seems. Really only Ariel and Aurora/Briar Rose tell us their ages. Belle, Cinderella, Snow White, Jasmine, Mulan (though not really a princess), Megara (also not a princess)- never say specifically how old they are. So then again maybe Disney classics aren't really that odd.
There are also people who are very anti-Disney because the Princesses let the Princes come and rescue them. It's not very feministic, they say, They're nuts in my opinion. Mulan and Megara are strong characters, and even rescue the boys; Belle is compassionate and was willing to trade her life for her father's and falls in love with Beast for who he is on the inside; and Jasmine is a dreamer, brave and smart. And as for Snow White and Cinderella- didn't they deserve their happy ending for their lives of servitude without contempt? Those who lash out at Disney classics are just hurt because they didn't get the happy ending they wanted or thought they deserved. Please, don't deprive your children (especially the girls) of fairy tales just because your life isn't one. They'll understand that a Prince may not just show up at the doorstep as they get older- us girls aren't that stupid, really. Disney classics are good for the soul.
Third topic of the day is the six words thing. My friend, code name Sparkles, had this sociology assignment for homework: write your life's story in six words. Not five, not seven, but six. She had the hardest time with it, and I still don't know just what six words she ended up with in the end. But that got me thinking: what is mine? And I think I've got it.
Barefooted Mind
Walking Lost
Through Dreams
I like it. It's actually really hard to do, and it's fun too. I reccommend it highly.
Aries' Loss
I'm sorry, Aries. Your Grandfather seemed to be a very good man, and he'll be missed. It's funny how it still punches you in the gut, isn't it?
Since your family has known he'd die for four or five months now- it's hard. My grandma had six weeks when she decided to not go to dialysis anymore. Even for that handful of weeks it felt like the Tower of Terror before it drops. That feeling that you know something bad will happen, it's just a matter of when. If you're up there too long you start to want to get it over with already. At least that's how I felt, because I was the same way with my grandma's downhill spill four years ago. I still hurt sometimes- she was the only extended family member I saw on a regular basis. I even go into the spare room "Grandma's room" and talk to her sometimes. Maybe you'll just think it's weird, or maybe you'll understand me now.
My advice is to listen to a slow song (I recommend I Hope You Dance, but it's your choice) and cry, or just think. Talk about the good memories with your parents. Take your time. First losses are especially hard, even if the death is expected.
I'm sorry, truly.
Since your family has known he'd die for four or five months now- it's hard. My grandma had six weeks when she decided to not go to dialysis anymore. Even for that handful of weeks it felt like the Tower of Terror before it drops. That feeling that you know something bad will happen, it's just a matter of when. If you're up there too long you start to want to get it over with already. At least that's how I felt, because I was the same way with my grandma's downhill spill four years ago. I still hurt sometimes- she was the only extended family member I saw on a regular basis. I even go into the spare room "Grandma's room" and talk to her sometimes. Maybe you'll just think it's weird, or maybe you'll understand me now.
My advice is to listen to a slow song (I recommend I Hope You Dance, but it's your choice) and cry, or just think. Talk about the good memories with your parents. Take your time. First losses are especially hard, even if the death is expected.
I'm sorry, truly.
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