*cough cough* Damn this place is dusty. I haven't touched it since....January? WTF. Soooo.........
My year has been extremely crazy, fun, sad, thoughtful, the whole nine yards. Its been probably the best year of my life. I snuck out and went to my first concert, yes my first(and probably last) act of rebellion! It was awesome. Flyleaf, Breaking Benjamin and THREE DAYS GRACE! Story coming soon. ;) My parents tore down our old falling down farmhouse and are building a new house and I've fallen in and out of love....and right back in again. But nothing is as epic as the last great event of my 18th year on this earth..........
I'm going to India.
Yep thats right, this little loudmouthed Illinois farm girl is going to the other side of the world. For two months.
Its kind of weird how this all happened(and now its time to learn about a different side of me) We got a new milk customer who is from India who started buying goat milk from us. At the time, my mom, who is the world's biggest health nut, had just discovered Indian cooking, and our customer was giving mom pointers as well as leading her in different directions as far as health and well being goes. That's when she introduced her to Ayurveda, an Indian medicine and way of life that's impossible to put in a nutshell. It's a combination of spirituality, medicine, health, being in tune with nature, and total well-being all in one package.
I've never been the health nut to the extent that my mom is, but I've always been searching for the things that are right in life, the things that belong. Ayurveda belongs. I have been greatly influenced by my mom when it comes to health and thinking outside the box to achieve good health. When I first read about Ayurveda, it all made sense. How spirituality and health are connected.
I've been raised Catholic, and I've been instructed in the Catholic religion quite extensively. And of course, I've been instructed in healthy eating. For whatever reason, separately, neither topic inspired me. Religion has its downfalls and its hard to teach other people about healthy eating when they just don't get it. Because of Ayurveda, I've seen the essential thing that is missing in this society, which is that what I believe to be the all-too-important connection between health and spirituality. In Ayurveda, too be happy in your life, in your body and in your soul brings good health. Many people seem to overlook the importance of keeping your body happy and healthy.
As a Catholic, I've been taught that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, and we must not defile these temples by of course sin. Neither are we to defile these temples by bad things such as drugs or alcohol. But what about food? If we eat unhealthily, our bodies suffer. We become obese, we develop heart disease, cancer and diabetes. The more unhealthy and sick we become, the more depressed we get, negative energy spreads throughout the body and makes us sicker.
We live in a society where every desire receives instant gratification. We want a soda? Go grab one out of the fridge. Fried chicken? Pull in the drive thru. Unhealthy foods that years ago were not available are now available at our fingertips. And if these foods were available 50 years ago they were treats. How often have you listened to your grandparents tell you how special it was to go and get a soda? Or a piece of candy?
I'm not saying that its evil to eat unhealthy food, I'm saying that its evil to overeat unhealthy foods. They should be a treat and everything needs to be taken in moderation. Its about balance.
Anyway that's just the tip of the iceberg of whats been going through my head the past couple months. And you don't have to connect this with religion like I am; it should be something that everybody should implement in their lives in some way. Sorry if it doesn't make much sense, I don't have much time to write this.
Anyway to wrap things up and get back on topic, I will be leaving for Mysore, India tomorrow. I will be going for treatments in an Ayurvedic clinic for my allergies and a few other health issues for a month. The other month I will be staying with my chaperon's family on a coconut grove, learning about culture and how to cook. I will try and blog whenever I can get internet, and try to unravel this fascinating topic in a simple form.
Thanks to everybody for the well wishes! I will miss you all very much and I love each and every one of you. I'm sorry I won't be here for Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or my birthday, but I'll be there in spirit. Love you guys, and see you all later.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Victim of War
I haven't been up to writing a blog in a while so I decided to post one of my latest short stories. The scene described(minus the head on the tree) was a dream I had a few weeks ago, and I just fashioned a story around it. Enjoy :)
Victim of War
Everything had been silent for a long time save for the steady dripping of water in the corner. I had no notion of the time but I knew that it had been nearly a day since I last heard the guns. Nobody had come back for me yet and I feared the worse.
I made my way from the back of the bunker groping in the pitch black and dampness trying to find the door. After what seemed like ages I finally found the latch. I pushed up on the door as hard as I could until it finally gave way just enough to let the dim light of day creep in. Even though the light wasn’t very bright it hurt my eyes after being in the complete dark for almost four days. I shielded my eyes and peered out to make sure it was safe before I ventured out. I heaved the door up a little more and slipped out, easing the door down so it would shut quietly. I wrapped a handkerchief around my mouth to hide the steam of my breath in the chilly air.
The entire forest was deserted. Not a living thing stirred and everything was eerily silent. The sky was dark grey and hung low like a ceiling over the forest. I grasped the knife in my belt as I made my way through the muddy tracks of tanks and jumped over newly fallen trees, careful to make sure there were no booby traps or mines.
The trees of the forest were riddled with the holes of gunshots and there were evidences of blood here and there. I prayed that it was the blood of the enemy.
I had walked through this forest so many times as a child, it was the only place I felt safe. Its beauty brought me happiness; its life brought me comfort. I’m sixteen now and times are different; happiness is just a thing of the past to me and there is no more comfort to be found in the world.
As I made my way I came upon a rifle resting in the bracken. Ignoring the blood nearby picked I up and examined it: it was one of the enemy’s and had a nearly full clip of ammo. I felt guilty taking a weapon that had probably killed one of my neighbors but a knife is not enough to protect or feed myself.
Just as I was ready to go on my way again I heard the report of a gunshot. I crouched down on my belly, hoping I was hidden in the ferns. My heart was trying to pound itself out of my chest as I waited for what seemed like an eternity to hear something else. Finally I heard more cracks and relaxed as I realized it was just a tree falling down. Everything seems to set me on an edge these days.
My father had told me before the enemy came that after everything had fallen silent I was to go to the old oak in the meadow and look for a sign to know what to do. I was heading there now and with every step that took me closer I knew that the sign would not be good.
Suddenly I stumbled into a newly made clearing filled with smoke and a ghastly stench. Fearing that a trap would be set in the open, I skirted around the clearing, trying to see what was burning. I spotted two big piles and my empty stomach turned as I realized what was burning. Underneath the burning trees were bodies of the fallen; the stench was so overwhelming that I retched. I knew that it was the enemy that was burning though, because the enemy did not burn the bodies of dead, but left them after a battle to rot and be eaten by carrion birds. This gave me a little hope but it was hard to feel hope when you witnessed such horrible sights as this. This is war, I tell myself and move on.
When I finally come to the meadow, I hardly recognize it. Its beauty, its peacefulness has been replaced with ugliness and brutality. The green waving grasses have been burnt and blackened and tanks have turned the ground to mud. I can see the old oak on the other side, its massive limbs have been broken but the trunk still stands unmoved.
I carefully made my way through the mud, keeping my eyes on the tree. I tripped and fell into the mud. As I got up I pushed myself up on what I thought was a tree branch until I looked over and saw it was the arm of a man. Fear paralyzed me as I got up and looked around, finally realizing what I was seeing in the mud.
Bodies. Hundreds of them. Dead. My family. My friends. My neighbors. Dead. I stifled a scream and ran as fast as I could towards the old oak, trying not to stumble as I ran over the bodies.
When I came to the oak, I saw the sign, it was the sign of the enemy. I fell to my knees and covered my face.
My father’s head was nailed to the tree, his decapitated body was sitting against the base. I kneeled there frightened out of my wits, feeling alone in the world. I couldn’t understand how anybody could do something so horrible.
I knew I couldn’t stay here, but I didn’t know where to go. I knew my father would not have left me without giving some message, some hope. I crawled over to his headless body with silent tears covering my face and I went through his pockets until I encountered a note. I pulled it out and keeping my eyes on the ground I crawled to the other side of the tree.
The note was smeared with dirt and blood and was hard to make out in the dim light.
“Dearest Lise,” it read in my father’s short stroked hand-writing. “We have killed many, but we are now surrounded. There is no hope, we cannot hold out through the night. I know you are strong and you will carry on. Look for the others, they will help. You know where to look. Do not let them capture you. You are my daughter and remember to always honor your family. I love you with all my heart and I always will, never forget that.”
I folded the letter and put it away. Covering my face I cried until I could cry no more. When I was finished I had no idea how long I had been there. I had the sudden feeling that I was not alone. I looked around but there was not a living soul.
When I reached down to pick up my rifle leaned against the tree I felt the cold blade of a knife on my throat and a rough voice whispered in my ear “What do we have here?” He pulled me back roughly by my hair, keeping his knife at my throat and leaving my arms free, which was a mistake. My instincts kicked in as I grabbed my knife and stabbed him the stomach, then slit his throat before he could make a sound as he staggered back.
I could hear more voices from nearby, and one saying “Don’t kill her! Capture her alive!” I grabbed my gun and took off, running away from the voices. I could hear the footsteps of half a dozen men pursuing me. When I had gained a lead on them I turned around and took two of them out with my rifle, stopping the others in their tracks.
As I pulled the trigger and killed one more I heard somebody coming up behind me. As I started to turn around he knocked the gun out of my hands and punched me in the face, sending me to the ground. I tried to recover from the punch but he had bound my arms before I could get up again.
“Well should we have our way with her?” one of the men who had been pursing me before asked with a chuckle.
“No, the boss said he wants to see her first and if he can’t get any information out of the bitch then we can have her,” the man who had bound me answered with a wicked smile.
After the man who was in charge took my knife he slung me over his shoulder, since it was easier than forcing me to walk. My face pulsed from the punch and I could taste blood in my mouth. I felt too dizzy hanging from his shoulder to fight back.
After a while the necklace I was wearing around my neck worked its way out of my shirt and dangled down to rest on my face. The necklace was my freedom. My father had always told me that suicide was dishonorable, but betrayal was even worse. The soldiers walking behind the man who was carrying me could not see my face; I worked at the chain with my tongue until the glass vile rested between my teeth.
When we had arrived at their camp the man threw me roughly on the ground. The men saw the necklace hanging from my mouth and knew what it was. I bit down on the vile just as they yanked it out of my mouth. The glass cut my tongue and the taste of cyanide and blood was bittersweet in my mouth. When the men realized what I had done, they began showering me with blows and kicking me. My life was ended, and I prayed that the rest of the resistance would avenge the death of me and my family.
Victim of War
Everything had been silent for a long time save for the steady dripping of water in the corner. I had no notion of the time but I knew that it had been nearly a day since I last heard the guns. Nobody had come back for me yet and I feared the worse.
I made my way from the back of the bunker groping in the pitch black and dampness trying to find the door. After what seemed like ages I finally found the latch. I pushed up on the door as hard as I could until it finally gave way just enough to let the dim light of day creep in. Even though the light wasn’t very bright it hurt my eyes after being in the complete dark for almost four days. I shielded my eyes and peered out to make sure it was safe before I ventured out. I heaved the door up a little more and slipped out, easing the door down so it would shut quietly. I wrapped a handkerchief around my mouth to hide the steam of my breath in the chilly air.
The entire forest was deserted. Not a living thing stirred and everything was eerily silent. The sky was dark grey and hung low like a ceiling over the forest. I grasped the knife in my belt as I made my way through the muddy tracks of tanks and jumped over newly fallen trees, careful to make sure there were no booby traps or mines.
The trees of the forest were riddled with the holes of gunshots and there were evidences of blood here and there. I prayed that it was the blood of the enemy.
I had walked through this forest so many times as a child, it was the only place I felt safe. Its beauty brought me happiness; its life brought me comfort. I’m sixteen now and times are different; happiness is just a thing of the past to me and there is no more comfort to be found in the world.
As I made my way I came upon a rifle resting in the bracken. Ignoring the blood nearby picked I up and examined it: it was one of the enemy’s and had a nearly full clip of ammo. I felt guilty taking a weapon that had probably killed one of my neighbors but a knife is not enough to protect or feed myself.
Just as I was ready to go on my way again I heard the report of a gunshot. I crouched down on my belly, hoping I was hidden in the ferns. My heart was trying to pound itself out of my chest as I waited for what seemed like an eternity to hear something else. Finally I heard more cracks and relaxed as I realized it was just a tree falling down. Everything seems to set me on an edge these days.
My father had told me before the enemy came that after everything had fallen silent I was to go to the old oak in the meadow and look for a sign to know what to do. I was heading there now and with every step that took me closer I knew that the sign would not be good.
Suddenly I stumbled into a newly made clearing filled with smoke and a ghastly stench. Fearing that a trap would be set in the open, I skirted around the clearing, trying to see what was burning. I spotted two big piles and my empty stomach turned as I realized what was burning. Underneath the burning trees were bodies of the fallen; the stench was so overwhelming that I retched. I knew that it was the enemy that was burning though, because the enemy did not burn the bodies of dead, but left them after a battle to rot and be eaten by carrion birds. This gave me a little hope but it was hard to feel hope when you witnessed such horrible sights as this. This is war, I tell myself and move on.
When I finally come to the meadow, I hardly recognize it. Its beauty, its peacefulness has been replaced with ugliness and brutality. The green waving grasses have been burnt and blackened and tanks have turned the ground to mud. I can see the old oak on the other side, its massive limbs have been broken but the trunk still stands unmoved.
I carefully made my way through the mud, keeping my eyes on the tree. I tripped and fell into the mud. As I got up I pushed myself up on what I thought was a tree branch until I looked over and saw it was the arm of a man. Fear paralyzed me as I got up and looked around, finally realizing what I was seeing in the mud.
Bodies. Hundreds of them. Dead. My family. My friends. My neighbors. Dead. I stifled a scream and ran as fast as I could towards the old oak, trying not to stumble as I ran over the bodies.
When I came to the oak, I saw the sign, it was the sign of the enemy. I fell to my knees and covered my face.
My father’s head was nailed to the tree, his decapitated body was sitting against the base. I kneeled there frightened out of my wits, feeling alone in the world. I couldn’t understand how anybody could do something so horrible.
I knew I couldn’t stay here, but I didn’t know where to go. I knew my father would not have left me without giving some message, some hope. I crawled over to his headless body with silent tears covering my face and I went through his pockets until I encountered a note. I pulled it out and keeping my eyes on the ground I crawled to the other side of the tree.
The note was smeared with dirt and blood and was hard to make out in the dim light.
“Dearest Lise,” it read in my father’s short stroked hand-writing. “We have killed many, but we are now surrounded. There is no hope, we cannot hold out through the night. I know you are strong and you will carry on. Look for the others, they will help. You know where to look. Do not let them capture you. You are my daughter and remember to always honor your family. I love you with all my heart and I always will, never forget that.”
I folded the letter and put it away. Covering my face I cried until I could cry no more. When I was finished I had no idea how long I had been there. I had the sudden feeling that I was not alone. I looked around but there was not a living soul.
When I reached down to pick up my rifle leaned against the tree I felt the cold blade of a knife on my throat and a rough voice whispered in my ear “What do we have here?” He pulled me back roughly by my hair, keeping his knife at my throat and leaving my arms free, which was a mistake. My instincts kicked in as I grabbed my knife and stabbed him the stomach, then slit his throat before he could make a sound as he staggered back.
I could hear more voices from nearby, and one saying “Don’t kill her! Capture her alive!” I grabbed my gun and took off, running away from the voices. I could hear the footsteps of half a dozen men pursuing me. When I had gained a lead on them I turned around and took two of them out with my rifle, stopping the others in their tracks.
As I pulled the trigger and killed one more I heard somebody coming up behind me. As I started to turn around he knocked the gun out of my hands and punched me in the face, sending me to the ground. I tried to recover from the punch but he had bound my arms before I could get up again.
“Well should we have our way with her?” one of the men who had been pursing me before asked with a chuckle.
“No, the boss said he wants to see her first and if he can’t get any information out of the bitch then we can have her,” the man who had bound me answered with a wicked smile.
After the man who was in charge took my knife he slung me over his shoulder, since it was easier than forcing me to walk. My face pulsed from the punch and I could taste blood in my mouth. I felt too dizzy hanging from his shoulder to fight back.
After a while the necklace I was wearing around my neck worked its way out of my shirt and dangled down to rest on my face. The necklace was my freedom. My father had always told me that suicide was dishonorable, but betrayal was even worse. The soldiers walking behind the man who was carrying me could not see my face; I worked at the chain with my tongue until the glass vile rested between my teeth.
When we had arrived at their camp the man threw me roughly on the ground. The men saw the necklace hanging from my mouth and knew what it was. I bit down on the vile just as they yanked it out of my mouth. The glass cut my tongue and the taste of cyanide and blood was bittersweet in my mouth. When the men realized what I had done, they began showering me with blows and kicking me. My life was ended, and I prayed that the rest of the resistance would avenge the death of me and my family.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
End of an Era
Its hard to believe that ten years have already gone by. It seems like only yesterday I was thinking the world was going to end at 8 years old, Y2K was going to kill us all. Then the clock turned at midnight and nothing happened of course. Just like tonight when the clock turns nothing will happen, except half of us will still be writing 2009 on our checks next week forgetting that it’s 2010.
Its hard to believe the time that has passed after all the events of the decade. Two presidents, neither worth writing about in a history book, an attack which shocked the nation, a war, tsunami, hurricanes, a new pope, technological advances, the death of icons, stock market crashes, economic failure. I know I’m forgetting a lot, but I was never one to remember well in the first place.
Time flies so fast its hard to keep track sometimes, or stay on the track for that matter.
These ten years are filled with memories. Some memories I want to cherish, but will probably forget; other memories I will want to forget but they will still naw at my subconscious self.
This is the decade I will always cherish though, it is the decade which shaped me, changed me for the better and it was in this period of time that I was finally able to uncover who I was, who I am, who I want to be, and who I hope to always be. Me. Not some stupid sheep that follows the crowd, just the horribly plain me.
As I sit here writing this I wonder if ten years from now if I’ll look back and wonder: WTF was I thinking?
So to everybody, Happy New Year and Happy New Decade. May this new year and this new decade bring you health and happiness, and may the next decade be the better decade to remember.
Its hard to believe the time that has passed after all the events of the decade. Two presidents, neither worth writing about in a history book, an attack which shocked the nation, a war, tsunami, hurricanes, a new pope, technological advances, the death of icons, stock market crashes, economic failure. I know I’m forgetting a lot, but I was never one to remember well in the first place.
Time flies so fast its hard to keep track sometimes, or stay on the track for that matter.
These ten years are filled with memories. Some memories I want to cherish, but will probably forget; other memories I will want to forget but they will still naw at my subconscious self.
This is the decade I will always cherish though, it is the decade which shaped me, changed me for the better and it was in this period of time that I was finally able to uncover who I was, who I am, who I want to be, and who I hope to always be. Me. Not some stupid sheep that follows the crowd, just the horribly plain me.
As I sit here writing this I wonder if ten years from now if I’ll look back and wonder: WTF was I thinking?
So to everybody, Happy New Year and Happy New Decade. May this new year and this new decade bring you health and happiness, and may the next decade be the better decade to remember.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The joys of being sick
So with all the talk of swine flu(oh wait I'm sorry H1N1, which everybody should really be calling hiney) I knew sooner or later I'd probably succumb to the flu this year. Especially since I don't cover my mouth when I sneeze, or wash my hands, and I occasionally eat food off the floor, but that's besides the point. As far as swine flu goes I don't think it exists and its just another big stupid scare to get people to take a vaccine thats probably going to kill you or make you get the flu anyway. I think people are freaked out way to easily nowadays. All people really really need to eat chocolate and just chill. But, its not my job to worry about people and I don't worry anyway, so I guess I don't really care.
So my oldest brother started college and of course that means he's brought all kinds of nice little bugs home. He broke his finger falling up the stairs and then he got sick and he's like the biggest prima donna. So he sat on the couch and groaned and whined for three days until he was better then he had to tell everybody he met all of his symptoms and how bad they were and I was about ready to just put a pillow over his head......serenity now........
So anyway he got over it, I learned to be more deaf than I already am(tinnitus in one ear, hehe) so whatever. Then last Saturday the local vet was hosting a horse show to show off the Arabians she's bred and I had a few friends that were showing their horses there so of course I really wanted to go. So I made plans and went to bed on Friday night with just a bit of tightness in my chest. I thought nothing of it and went to bed. I didn't really sleep much but rather hallucinated all night long, kind of an odd experience. So I woke up with a really high fever and could barely walk. Oh fun....
So the whole morning I laid on the couch with a fever, barely able to move. Mom came in and told me I can't go to the horse show(as if it wasn't obvious) but since I was still hallucinating I told her I was and somehow convinced myself that I had actually already left and was on my way there. Yeah I was kind of pitiful.
So somehow I always manage to get the flu the same time as my brother David, who is the biggest puker ever. I fortunately have not puked in over six or seven years, which I know that makes me sound like some kind of recovering anorexic or bolemic. I learned a long time ago when I got braces that food gets caught in them, and if you throw up digested food gets caught in them and you have to taste it for a while. So I've always had this no puking resolution that I've stuck to, then again I don't really eat anything to puke up when I'm sick. I can usually go for about three days without eating when I'm sick and not feel hungry. I mean, I'm hungry but I don't want to eat. Which is kind of bad because I lose weight easily when I'm sick. Last time I got the flu(which was 3 years ago) I got down to 95 pounds but I haven't lost that much weight this time.
In the spirit of being sick, I of course embrace my French heritage of not showering, and although I'm not English I've adopted not brushing my teeth which is as equally disgusting. I'd rather take no shower though over mom waking me up at six in the morning after I just fell asleep asking if the remedy worked from the night before. My mom is weird.
So I need to end here, I won't mention anything about the extreme agitation and short tempter that seems to come with being sick, as well as this sense of being totally unable to think of what you were just about to say. Which is what is happening to me right now.
But before I go, I would like to say Happy Veterans Day to all those who have bravely served this great country, past, present and future. The sacrifice you have made for my freedom is greatly appreciated.
So my oldest brother started college and of course that means he's brought all kinds of nice little bugs home. He broke his finger falling up the stairs and then he got sick and he's like the biggest prima donna. So he sat on the couch and groaned and whined for three days until he was better then he had to tell everybody he met all of his symptoms and how bad they were and I was about ready to just put a pillow over his head......serenity now........
So anyway he got over it, I learned to be more deaf than I already am(tinnitus in one ear, hehe) so whatever. Then last Saturday the local vet was hosting a horse show to show off the Arabians she's bred and I had a few friends that were showing their horses there so of course I really wanted to go. So I made plans and went to bed on Friday night with just a bit of tightness in my chest. I thought nothing of it and went to bed. I didn't really sleep much but rather hallucinated all night long, kind of an odd experience. So I woke up with a really high fever and could barely walk. Oh fun....
So the whole morning I laid on the couch with a fever, barely able to move. Mom came in and told me I can't go to the horse show(as if it wasn't obvious) but since I was still hallucinating I told her I was and somehow convinced myself that I had actually already left and was on my way there. Yeah I was kind of pitiful.
So somehow I always manage to get the flu the same time as my brother David, who is the biggest puker ever. I fortunately have not puked in over six or seven years, which I know that makes me sound like some kind of recovering anorexic or bolemic. I learned a long time ago when I got braces that food gets caught in them, and if you throw up digested food gets caught in them and you have to taste it for a while. So I've always had this no puking resolution that I've stuck to, then again I don't really eat anything to puke up when I'm sick. I can usually go for about three days without eating when I'm sick and not feel hungry. I mean, I'm hungry but I don't want to eat. Which is kind of bad because I lose weight easily when I'm sick. Last time I got the flu(which was 3 years ago) I got down to 95 pounds but I haven't lost that much weight this time.
In the spirit of being sick, I of course embrace my French heritage of not showering, and although I'm not English I've adopted not brushing my teeth which is as equally disgusting. I'd rather take no shower though over mom waking me up at six in the morning after I just fell asleep asking if the remedy worked from the night before. My mom is weird.
So I need to end here, I won't mention anything about the extreme agitation and short tempter that seems to come with being sick, as well as this sense of being totally unable to think of what you were just about to say. Which is what is happening to me right now.
But before I go, I would like to say Happy Veterans Day to all those who have bravely served this great country, past, present and future. The sacrifice you have made for my freedom is greatly appreciated.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Getting older
I might as well be an 80 year old with Alzheimers for how bad my memory is. I have a thought and a second later its out the window. I think I wrote an entire blog article in my head this afternoon while I was out doing chores and as soon as I sat down here I can't remember a word of what I was going to say. I need to set up a desk and an internet connection outside, since it seems like that is the only place my mind can function properly.
So I guess I am posting this for the sake of posting.
I will say though in other writing I've finished a test on an extremely stupid play, although I still have an interpretive essay to do on the same play. And I've written a whole chapter in my book(yay!) now I just need to write a short story which I absolutely positively suck at doing.
I want to do Halloween but my mother seems to think that dressing up and getting free candy is the darkest offence to the Catholic church. Which really sucks because I had the most awesome My Chemical Romance inspired costume idea. Oh well, screw it. Speaking of which I need some chocolate, my stash is empty.
I really don't like being mature, is it stupid to say I really wish I could be a stupid, thoughtless teenager sometimes?
So I guess I am posting this for the sake of posting.
I will say though in other writing I've finished a test on an extremely stupid play, although I still have an interpretive essay to do on the same play. And I've written a whole chapter in my book(yay!) now I just need to write a short story which I absolutely positively suck at doing.
I want to do Halloween but my mother seems to think that dressing up and getting free candy is the darkest offence to the Catholic church. Which really sucks because I had the most awesome My Chemical Romance inspired costume idea. Oh well, screw it. Speaking of which I need some chocolate, my stash is empty.
I really don't like being mature, is it stupid to say I really wish I could be a stupid, thoughtless teenager sometimes?
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Before the Lobotomy
Don't ask, I couldn't think of a title, thats what I happen to be listening to right now.
I don't know how many times I tell myself I need to blog more, but I don't know why I tell myself that. I mean honestly, if I have something to say I'll say it, but I've realized with blogging that I'm not really a 'me-me-me' person. I don't know, my biggest problem is not being able to organize my thoughts and put them down in type, which is frustrating. lol, idk.
At times I feel like I've found my identity, found who I really am and who I really want to be. And at times I feel like I don't know myself, and I'm still searching. Life is unbearable at times when you feel the skeleton in your closet scratching at the door.
On a lighter note, I had writer's block the other night so I decided to go back and rewrite this scene in my book because one of my friends suggested the Ian needed to bring a ladder to get Sybil off the roof(she jumps off and breaks her ankle in the real scene) so here is what happened. And I discovered that I really really suck at third person writing, although this is only the roughest of drafts. Enjoy =D
Chapter 6: Alternate Sneak Out Scene aka this is what comes about when I get writer’s block
Have you ever wanted to sneak out but you were stopped because of being unable to get off of that damn house roof without breaking your ankle because you’re such a clumsy retard? Then you can be at rest and sneak out with your boyfriend to go to a drinking party with the Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder!
Sybil has a fun filled night planned a head of her. Going out with a guy her aunt and uncle don’t approve of to a drinking party while being grounded is her idea of a good night but there’s one slight problem Sybil faces as she climbed out her window.
“Oh Ian! Help me! What ever am I supposed to do? I am stuck on the porch roof and cannot get down!” she says in obvious distress.
“Never fear dearest Sybil! I’ll get you to that drinking party with the Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder!” Ian replies jubilantly.
“What the fuck is that?”
“Why it’s the answer to get you off that goddamned roof, look!” he replies pulling the palm sized ladder out of his pocket.
“Its fucking tiny! How is that piece of crap supposed to get me down?”
“Watch, it easily unfolds from this fucking tiny size to this huge ass monster size!” he replies struggling to work the idiotically simple mechanism that unfolds the ladder. After a few four-letter words and a sliced thumb he succeeds in unfolding it and placed it against the house.
“Sybil, climb down and I will whisk you away from this fucking crappy place and drown your troubles with tequila!” As Sybil goes to grab a step on the ladder, it breaks off and the jagged edge of it cuts her arm.
“Wow! What sort of material is this fucking piece of shit ladder made of?”
“Why only the cheapest and worst quality Chinese metal is used to make the Fucking Little Monster Ladder. You can be assured that the quality of the ladder will barely last a single use.”
“Wow it must be one shitty ladder,” Sybil replies as she tries to stop her profuse bleeding.
“You can be assured that the Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder is the shittiest ladder in the industry. No other ladder can come close to its lack of quality.”
As Sybil mounts the ladder and begins to climb down the steps give way and she falls to the ground and breaks her arm.
“Wow!” she says jumping up. “That was much easier than jumping off the roof!”
“What is all this commotion out here?” Ron says and he and Denise come outside looking quite disheveled.
“Why Uncle Ron! I was just sneaking out with Ian to go to a drinking party!” Sybil replies enthusiastically jumping up and down while her arm hangs lifelessly.
“Yes Mr. Mestelle I was helping Sybil sneak out because you and Mrs. Mestelle are such overbearing assholes.” Ian replies putting his arm around Sybil.
“But you’re grounded Sybil Lenore, how ever did you get out without using the front door?” Denise asks.
“Why Ian was nice enough to bring his Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder so I could sneak out my window and climb down from the roof!”
“Why what in the world is the Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder?” Ron asks getting flustered.
“Why it’s the crappiest ladder in the industry, its barely strong enough to support the weight of a fly,” Ian says motioning to the ruined ladder leaning against the house.
“Wow! What a piece of shit! How much does something like that cost?” Ron asks crumpling the ladder like a tin can.
“The Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder can be yours for only 30 easy payments of $99.95!” Ian says motioning with his arm towards the ladder knocking Sybil in the face during the process.
“Wow! 30 easy payments of $99.95? That’s so unaffordable I can’t pass it up!” Ron says ecstatically.
“Yep and it’s guaranteed to never last past its first use and if it breaks then tough shit mister,” Ian replies with one of his thousand watt smiles.
“Wow! Well isn’t that the most fucked up deal ever!” Ron exclaims. “Now you kids get your asses off somewhere or I’ll call the cops!”
“Yes sir dumbass!” Ian and Sybil exclaim as they run off for their fun filled night.
I don't know how many times I tell myself I need to blog more, but I don't know why I tell myself that. I mean honestly, if I have something to say I'll say it, but I've realized with blogging that I'm not really a 'me-me-me' person. I don't know, my biggest problem is not being able to organize my thoughts and put them down in type, which is frustrating. lol, idk.
At times I feel like I've found my identity, found who I really am and who I really want to be. And at times I feel like I don't know myself, and I'm still searching. Life is unbearable at times when you feel the skeleton in your closet scratching at the door.
On a lighter note, I had writer's block the other night so I decided to go back and rewrite this scene in my book because one of my friends suggested the Ian needed to bring a ladder to get Sybil off the roof(she jumps off and breaks her ankle in the real scene) so here is what happened. And I discovered that I really really suck at third person writing, although this is only the roughest of drafts. Enjoy =D
Chapter 6: Alternate Sneak Out Scene aka this is what comes about when I get writer’s block
Have you ever wanted to sneak out but you were stopped because of being unable to get off of that damn house roof without breaking your ankle because you’re such a clumsy retard? Then you can be at rest and sneak out with your boyfriend to go to a drinking party with the Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder!
Sybil has a fun filled night planned a head of her. Going out with a guy her aunt and uncle don’t approve of to a drinking party while being grounded is her idea of a good night but there’s one slight problem Sybil faces as she climbed out her window.
“Oh Ian! Help me! What ever am I supposed to do? I am stuck on the porch roof and cannot get down!” she says in obvious distress.
“Never fear dearest Sybil! I’ll get you to that drinking party with the Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder!” Ian replies jubilantly.
“What the fuck is that?”
“Why it’s the answer to get you off that goddamned roof, look!” he replies pulling the palm sized ladder out of his pocket.
“Its fucking tiny! How is that piece of crap supposed to get me down?”
“Watch, it easily unfolds from this fucking tiny size to this huge ass monster size!” he replies struggling to work the idiotically simple mechanism that unfolds the ladder. After a few four-letter words and a sliced thumb he succeeds in unfolding it and placed it against the house.
“Sybil, climb down and I will whisk you away from this fucking crappy place and drown your troubles with tequila!” As Sybil goes to grab a step on the ladder, it breaks off and the jagged edge of it cuts her arm.
“Wow! What sort of material is this fucking piece of shit ladder made of?”
“Why only the cheapest and worst quality Chinese metal is used to make the Fucking Little Monster Ladder. You can be assured that the quality of the ladder will barely last a single use.”
“Wow it must be one shitty ladder,” Sybil replies as she tries to stop her profuse bleeding.
“You can be assured that the Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder is the shittiest ladder in the industry. No other ladder can come close to its lack of quality.”
As Sybil mounts the ladder and begins to climb down the steps give way and she falls to the ground and breaks her arm.
“Wow!” she says jumping up. “That was much easier than jumping off the roof!”
“What is all this commotion out here?” Ron says and he and Denise come outside looking quite disheveled.
“Why Uncle Ron! I was just sneaking out with Ian to go to a drinking party!” Sybil replies enthusiastically jumping up and down while her arm hangs lifelessly.
“Yes Mr. Mestelle I was helping Sybil sneak out because you and Mrs. Mestelle are such overbearing assholes.” Ian replies putting his arm around Sybil.
“But you’re grounded Sybil Lenore, how ever did you get out without using the front door?” Denise asks.
“Why Ian was nice enough to bring his Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder so I could sneak out my window and climb down from the roof!”
“Why what in the world is the Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder?” Ron asks getting flustered.
“Why it’s the crappiest ladder in the industry, its barely strong enough to support the weight of a fly,” Ian says motioning to the ruined ladder leaning against the house.
“Wow! What a piece of shit! How much does something like that cost?” Ron asks crumpling the ladder like a tin can.
“The Fucking Tiny Monster Ladder can be yours for only 30 easy payments of $99.95!” Ian says motioning with his arm towards the ladder knocking Sybil in the face during the process.
“Wow! 30 easy payments of $99.95? That’s so unaffordable I can’t pass it up!” Ron says ecstatically.
“Yep and it’s guaranteed to never last past its first use and if it breaks then tough shit mister,” Ian replies with one of his thousand watt smiles.
“Wow! Well isn’t that the most fucked up deal ever!” Ron exclaims. “Now you kids get your asses off somewhere or I’ll call the cops!”
“Yes sir dumbass!” Ian and Sybil exclaim as they run off for their fun filled night.
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