I want to finish this blog... but time has got its hands around my neck in a stronghold. I kept hearing that people wanted me to complete my character Sceney - whom truthfully I would love to see completed. At some point...
I think this is just like me. Characters floating around my head with bits of information. I wish I had enough stories to fit them all in. I keep taking people I know and mixing them with other traits to make new people. I wonder if that is odd??
I'm sorry Mrs. Flurry! I guess better late than never.. I always seem to have rough patches in the year and this seems to be one of them. I feel like I can't complete anything. It's kinda sad.
But thank you all for hearing me out! I will try to finish up my blog. I'm sorry I don't feel it so well I want to continue. I just have so much to do outside of the computer.
I'll make it up to you guys one day. :)
Until then, I'll see you later.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
The Stairs - Sceney
Ironically, Little Boy led me to meet a young girl - who we'll call Sceney. This was due to the fact that she breathed anything that may make her seem anything like a 'scene' kind of person.
My first impression threw me off of her completely. She was loud, very tiny, and had hair that was on the thin side. But not a single thing got in her way.
She'd invited me over to her house only a day after we met. A certain obsession over me had ensued after she found out I was three years older than her. (She had this thing for hanging with older kids.) So I obliged, awkwardly knocking on her door and coming into a crash with her grandfather. He looked as though he was worn to the bone, and I waited a moment to say hello and give him a smile. He wasn't very thrilled.
He screamed her name and a viscous snarl came down the stairs to follow. (Okay, so she could be a little nicer.) But she came galloping down the stairs, snug clothing with jeans and her hair tied back. I could have sworn her hair looked amazing in all positions.
She came to a halt, and I looked up at the stairs that had taken over all view of the house from the door. They were covered in shaggy carpet, a light beige, and turned once in the middle with a landing. I felt as though there was much more to find at the top - the same feeling I kept getting with Sceney.
Her smile was so big it brought my attention back to her face, and I halted all thoughts. What was I doing here? She grabbed my hand and pulled me around the stairs to the cold tiles of her kitchen.
"Are you hungry? You must be. It's almost lunch time." She was talking so fast I didn't have time to respond, but then wondered if she was only talking to herself. "Here." She gave me a cup and whisked her body away to the fridge to get some Coke. "You like Coke, right?" I nodded.
She poured one for herself, and then looked at me as if peeling off layers. "You don't talk much do you?" I smiled.
"Sweetheart, maybe it is only that you talk a lot." I had a feeling she would smile, and she did. She loved to hear her own voice; and it was easy to tell.
A scream came from upstairs and I jumped.
"Oh, that's just Dylan, my younger sister." I looked at her in shock. "She's only a few months old, so she's a little loud." I nodded.
I assumed everything was loud in her house. Which was maybe exactly what I needed.
My first impression threw me off of her completely. She was loud, very tiny, and had hair that was on the thin side. But not a single thing got in her way.
She'd invited me over to her house only a day after we met. A certain obsession over me had ensued after she found out I was three years older than her. (She had this thing for hanging with older kids.) So I obliged, awkwardly knocking on her door and coming into a crash with her grandfather. He looked as though he was worn to the bone, and I waited a moment to say hello and give him a smile. He wasn't very thrilled.
He screamed her name and a viscous snarl came down the stairs to follow. (Okay, so she could be a little nicer.) But she came galloping down the stairs, snug clothing with jeans and her hair tied back. I could have sworn her hair looked amazing in all positions.
She came to a halt, and I looked up at the stairs that had taken over all view of the house from the door. They were covered in shaggy carpet, a light beige, and turned once in the middle with a landing. I felt as though there was much more to find at the top - the same feeling I kept getting with Sceney.
Her smile was so big it brought my attention back to her face, and I halted all thoughts. What was I doing here? She grabbed my hand and pulled me around the stairs to the cold tiles of her kitchen.
"Are you hungry? You must be. It's almost lunch time." She was talking so fast I didn't have time to respond, but then wondered if she was only talking to herself. "Here." She gave me a cup and whisked her body away to the fridge to get some Coke. "You like Coke, right?" I nodded.
She poured one for herself, and then looked at me as if peeling off layers. "You don't talk much do you?" I smiled.
"Sweetheart, maybe it is only that you talk a lot." I had a feeling she would smile, and she did. She loved to hear her own voice; and it was easy to tell.
A scream came from upstairs and I jumped.
"Oh, that's just Dylan, my younger sister." I looked at her in shock. "She's only a few months old, so she's a little loud." I nodded.
I assumed everything was loud in her house. Which was maybe exactly what I needed.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
In the Forest - Little Boy
My journey from numb to dumb happened over night.
I walked the boards of the back deck back to Little Boy's window. What I saw after that both amused me and shocked me. He was dancing; and not at all badly. I had to stand for a moment to understand before walking in the door crudely to awaken his mind again.
He smiled again and sat down with me to to blather on about his love for music. I had been obsessed with music in the past, but was heading through a dry spell.
That is when he played Britney Spears and I laughed. He taught me to appreciate every artist and their own style. He got me off the floor and made me dance.
I walked the boards of the back deck back to Little Boy's window. What I saw after that both amused me and shocked me. He was dancing; and not at all badly. I had to stand for a moment to understand before walking in the door crudely to awaken his mind again.
He smiled again and sat down with me to to blather on about his love for music. I had been obsessed with music in the past, but was heading through a dry spell.
That is when he played Britney Spears and I laughed. He taught me to appreciate every artist and their own style. He got me off the floor and made me dance.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Atop a Hill - Little Boy
This boy, I shall call Little Boy. Hence a nickname found for him years and years ago and carried through the air by dry dust.
He lived in that house. The one that looked astonishingly big and white and tall. It backed the woods and hid a secret that no one seemed to know except for the friends that knew very well the back door was unlocked. A few steps down and you were engulfed in forest as you traveled from the front of the house to the back.
What I saw: Tall windows as he let me in, and a fluffy couch with white down cushions. A jungle theme rested along the walls, and my head spun at the amount of items on the floor. He proudly displayed an iPod on his TV stand and large speakers resting on either sides of the room.
What I observed: He was prancing, and quick to point at anything he made reference to. He had long, yet well groomed, nails in addition to his straightened hair. When he walked he swayed his hips and gestured like he was slowly going mad. He smiled. Always.
It was later I learned he was gay. It was later I learned he had Asperger's.
It was later that I learned I was numb.
And so I learned from him, one of the most dire lessons of mankind - humility.
Conclusion: This was going to be a long couple of years.
He lived in that house. The one that looked astonishingly big and white and tall. It backed the woods and hid a secret that no one seemed to know except for the friends that knew very well the back door was unlocked. A few steps down and you were engulfed in forest as you traveled from the front of the house to the back.
What I saw: Tall windows as he let me in, and a fluffy couch with white down cushions. A jungle theme rested along the walls, and my head spun at the amount of items on the floor. He proudly displayed an iPod on his TV stand and large speakers resting on either sides of the room.
What I observed: He was prancing, and quick to point at anything he made reference to. He had long, yet well groomed, nails in addition to his straightened hair. When he walked he swayed his hips and gestured like he was slowly going mad. He smiled. Always.
It was later I learned he was gay. It was later I learned he had Asperger's.
It was later that I learned I was numb.
And so I learned from him, one of the most dire lessons of mankind - humility.
Conclusion: This was going to be a long couple of years.
Introducing: Myself. But not really
I was recently assigned a little project in my Writers Workshop class. It consists of making a blog, posting updates, and kicking and screaming to find an idea.
So I did.
I was told to mix what I love with what I write; which is easy since writing is my love. But what to write? A blog about myself would just be too bland... At least in my opinion. Why would I write about something I get to observe everyday? Why not try to write about what I have failed to observe?
The product of these thoughts ended with a final epiphany. It's easy to reflect on your own past, but why not try to chart the past you've had with others? It's almost as if you learn from others mistakes - or come to a realization that what you've known about them all along means more than you think.
I hope a little poetry, a few stories and a little commentary will help you dip your feet into the puddles of personality I've come upon throughout the years.
So wish me luck on what I'm about to say; but don't expect to get the real names of my subjects.
So I did.
I was told to mix what I love with what I write; which is easy since writing is my love. But what to write? A blog about myself would just be too bland... At least in my opinion. Why would I write about something I get to observe everyday? Why not try to write about what I have failed to observe?
The product of these thoughts ended with a final epiphany. It's easy to reflect on your own past, but why not try to chart the past you've had with others? It's almost as if you learn from others mistakes - or come to a realization that what you've known about them all along means more than you think.
I hope a little poetry, a few stories and a little commentary will help you dip your feet into the puddles of personality I've come upon throughout the years.
So wish me luck on what I'm about to say; but don't expect to get the real names of my subjects.
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