NaNoWriMo...
...tomorrow.
Me...
...staying at the school until six tomorrow working on the school magazine.
My English reading...
...way behind where I should be.
My Honors Creative Writing short story...
...due Friday for first revisions, and not even half-done.
My NaNo story...
...underdeveloped according to the plot I'm projecting.
My other Honors Creative Writing short story...
...due at the end of the quarter, and already distracting me.
Junior year...
...keeping me distracted from this competition.
Thanksgiving break...
...twelve days, a blessing.
But...
...as far behind as I am, will I be able to make up the time?
Angst, stress...
...creeping in, making me freeze up.
My wild imagination...
...always tempting me with new ideas, pulling me in another direction.
NaNo last year...
...a miserable failure.
Everyone else...
...counting on me.
And now what?
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
For My Friend
When you dwell on the place you don’t want to be, you only make yourself miserable.
Move on.
Maybe you can’t.
Free your mind, even if your body can’t follow. Create your own world, a place of refuge when the going gets tough. A place where all your friends are hilarious, where everyone is beautiful, and made moreso by thier imperfections. Construct a reality where your imagination runs without limits, and where you can escape from the stress and hardships of the “real world.”
Don’t get me wrong. This can be a dangerous game, if you give yourself over to it. Always remeber that the real world is still waiting for you. That your friends can’t always be hilarious, and that their imperfections are often just plain ugly. People will always be putting limits on your creativity, and stress doesn’t just disappear when you ignore it.
Still, take a break. Give yourself a chance to breathe. In those moments where you find yourself staring into space, asking yourself, “Why me?” go to that place. Even for just a moment, just long enough to find a smile. People might look at you funny. They might think you’re wierd for grinning at what seems like nothing. But, you are smiling, and they are not.
Remember that I’ll be with you. I’ll create worlds with you, even if we can’t always scratch them down in a jumbled up story. I’ll be there to breathe with you, and to walk down the halls wearing silly grins with you. My only condition is: Smile.
Move on.
Maybe you can’t.
Free your mind, even if your body can’t follow. Create your own world, a place of refuge when the going gets tough. A place where all your friends are hilarious, where everyone is beautiful, and made moreso by thier imperfections. Construct a reality where your imagination runs without limits, and where you can escape from the stress and hardships of the “real world.”
Don’t get me wrong. This can be a dangerous game, if you give yourself over to it. Always remeber that the real world is still waiting for you. That your friends can’t always be hilarious, and that their imperfections are often just plain ugly. People will always be putting limits on your creativity, and stress doesn’t just disappear when you ignore it.
Still, take a break. Give yourself a chance to breathe. In those moments where you find yourself staring into space, asking yourself, “Why me?” go to that place. Even for just a moment, just long enough to find a smile. People might look at you funny. They might think you’re wierd for grinning at what seems like nothing. But, you are smiling, and they are not.
Remember that I’ll be with you. I’ll create worlds with you, even if we can’t always scratch them down in a jumbled up story. I’ll be there to breathe with you, and to walk down the halls wearing silly grins with you. My only condition is: Smile.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
My Badly-Terrible Idea
A lot of people would say that a sequel is generally a bad idea. Most people would agree that a fan fiction is a horrible idea. So what about a fan fiction about a sequel?
I know it’s the unthinkable, but I just can’t help playing with the father-son concept introduced in Love Never Dies, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s hotly debated sequel to The Phantom of the Opera.
My play divides into two separate ideas. The first is a short story that sets the Phantom/LND characters, namely Erik, Christine, and Gustave, in present day America. Strip away all the Broadway style drama and borderline fantasy elements to leave just the characters. It would be interesting to see them develop in a new setting, with real-life situations to deal with.
The next idea takes the form of a comic in my head. It’s a chronicle of what happens to Erik and Gustave after the end of LND. A lot of it would focus on Erik and how he learns more about himself through his son and all that sentimental stuff.
The short story idea I wanted to use for a Creative Writing assignment, but my teacher said our next short story has to be 100% original. I did write a snippet of it though, which I will post a snippet shortly. I hope I have time over the summer to work on it along with some of the other stories I’ve written.
I know it’s the unthinkable, but I just can’t help playing with the father-son concept introduced in Love Never Dies, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s hotly debated sequel to The Phantom of the Opera.
My play divides into two separate ideas. The first is a short story that sets the Phantom/LND characters, namely Erik, Christine, and Gustave, in present day America. Strip away all the Broadway style drama and borderline fantasy elements to leave just the characters. It would be interesting to see them develop in a new setting, with real-life situations to deal with.
The next idea takes the form of a comic in my head. It’s a chronicle of what happens to Erik and Gustave after the end of LND. A lot of it would focus on Erik and how he learns more about himself through his son and all that sentimental stuff.
The short story idea I wanted to use for a Creative Writing assignment, but my teacher said our next short story has to be 100% original. I did write a snippet of it though, which I will post a snippet shortly. I hope I have time over the summer to work on it along with some of the other stories I’ve written.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Middle Passage
AKA the bus ride to Atlanta, GA for our school field trip. It was misery. X.X:
"Lingering, sticky sweat. Joints aching from bending in unnatural ways to accomodate the small space alloted to you. The insufferable screaming and wailing is deafening. The smell of mixing body odors is gagging. Our clothes are pasted to our skin with perspiration. We're not moving--we haven't been for hours. It seems unending. Our breathing collectively shallows--we're gasping now. The humidity makes us writhe. And what is the worth of this suffering? There is nothing to look forward to..."
except...
THE BEVERLY!!!!
Which you wouldn't understand unless you've been to the Coca Cola museam.
When you go, try the Beverly, it's really good. >:)
"Lingering, sticky sweat. Joints aching from bending in unnatural ways to accomodate the small space alloted to you. The insufferable screaming and wailing is deafening. The smell of mixing body odors is gagging. Our clothes are pasted to our skin with perspiration. We're not moving--we haven't been for hours. It seems unending. Our breathing collectively shallows--we're gasping now. The humidity makes us writhe. And what is the worth of this suffering? There is nothing to look forward to..."
except...
THE BEVERLY!!!!
Which you wouldn't understand unless you've been to the Coca Cola museam.
When you go, try the Beverly, it's really good. >:)
My Editorial Draft
We'll see how my English teacher tears this apart come the end of Tuesday:
How many years have schools been able to break up fights without the use of weapons against unarmed students? Why, all of a sudden, is it necessary to spray pepper gas into a crowded cafeteria to stop a brawl among three boys? The incident at Athens High School was completely unwarranted. I understand that the officer working that day was subbing in for the regular school resource officer, but shouldn’t he still be trained to handle that sort of situation, and at least subdue the brawl without endangering the health of other students? Pepper gas can be very harmful to those with asthma, which is common among young people. I would much rather hear about a school fight getting out of hand then a student asphyxiating due to an officer jumping to use his pepper gas. Now, what’s been done is done. We can’t change the miserable few hours those several innocent students faced while suffering with the symptoms of pepper gas, but I should hope that lessons are learned from this incident and that past actions are not repeated.
October 5th, 2010
"A hundred years?!" the witch screached, tearing for her sister's throat. The radiant faerie glided away from the oncoming wrath.
"He's a wicked young man, sister, but never has there been any man who is all evil. He must have time to learn." Light poured from her supple, pink lips as she spoke, her complexion illuminating the dark room.
"I can't wait that long!" the black-clad sister screamed, pacing the room as her dark, smokey robes flew wildy behind her. "Didn't you see him? Did you even look into those eyes?!" Even then, she seemd to become lost in the memory of the fair prince, whose golden curls had shone the same color as the sun, and whose eyes sparkled like the two bluest stars. "I want him. I want him now!"
Her fairer sister shrugged, shoulder gliding fluidly beneath her bellowing silk sleeves, "You wouldn't if you'd seen what I've done to him. It was one of your own concoctions I used."
The dark woman spun on her heel, winds swirling about her. "Which potion?" she gasped in horror, "What did you turn him into?!"
With the faintest quirk of her jaw, her sister said placidly, "A beast."
"He's a wicked young man, sister, but never has there been any man who is all evil. He must have time to learn." Light poured from her supple, pink lips as she spoke, her complexion illuminating the dark room.
"I can't wait that long!" the black-clad sister screamed, pacing the room as her dark, smokey robes flew wildy behind her. "Didn't you see him? Did you even look into those eyes?!" Even then, she seemd to become lost in the memory of the fair prince, whose golden curls had shone the same color as the sun, and whose eyes sparkled like the two bluest stars. "I want him. I want him now!"
Her fairer sister shrugged, shoulder gliding fluidly beneath her bellowing silk sleeves, "You wouldn't if you'd seen what I've done to him. It was one of your own concoctions I used."
The dark woman spun on her heel, winds swirling about her. "Which potion?" she gasped in horror, "What did you turn him into?!"
With the faintest quirk of her jaw, her sister said placidly, "A beast."
Friday, October 1, 2010
Once Again...
Once again, I’m the invisible child. While waiting for some frozen peanut butter treats to thaw, my grandparents ask me how my Atlanta trip was, and I tell them about the Varsity, the aquarium, and the Coke Museum. I’m just about to explain to my grandma what the soda tasting room is, when my sister walks up with a jagged knife in her hand. She then proceeds to stab at her treat with said knife. My grandparents freak out, telling her, “What are you doing?! Be careful with that!” The conversation about my trip has officially died. I even waited to see if my grandparents would bring the subject back up, but they didn’t.
Why is it that so often bad behavior is rewarded over good behavior? I mean, I know the answer—it’s on Dr. Phil all the time. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. It almost makes me feel like doing something brash to get attention. *sigh* I know that would only make things worse, yet at times it can be so tempting. Don’t worry; I won’t go on a rampage. It’s just a passing thought in that fantasy world of mine. The thought at least brings a moment of synthetic relief, and it’s always easy to busy myself with other notions. But I always end up wondering how long I can suppress these kinds of feelings…
Sleep
Sleep, why do you evade my grasp? I lean back in my seat, and wrap a blanket of music that’s just loud enough to fade into the background around me. Yet still you will not come to me. I can but grasp the hem of your silky dress. Maybe it’s because we’ve been estranged of late—are you unfamiliar with me now? Don’t be afraid, and please don’t be jealous of my time. Come back to me. I miss you…
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