Hey guy and dolls

new URL taken from the poem I just posted.

www.animmenseanatomyofsound.blogspot.com

thought I'd let you know.

peace

Paradise in the ear

Hey kids! tell me what pitchurs this paints in your minds, kay? I wanna know if they match mine, or if they're weird :P peace

I sing of an immense anatomy of sound

Speak

Murmur

Solitary voices

Ecstatic music

Sound meanders through time

The
machine
breaks

Under the sun

A flash

Her hair in the light

Her voice in the air

I swim
in a sea
of words

Paradise in the ear

Attention, Beeyotches.

We all have talents and we all have skills. And since I don't see anyone getting paid or recognized in any way for any of the content of this blog or our personal blogs, that means that nothing here is anyone's "thing". The whole point of writing club was for ALL of us to be able to just write and post whatever the hell we felt like, and maybe get some feedback. THE POINT IS TO WRITE--nobody cares if you are J.D. Fucking Salinger or not. If you guys keep adding these passive aggressive little, "well I'm not as good as _____ " messages, no one's going to want to post anything. So knock it off.

If you like something someone wrote, tell 'em. If you don't, tell 'em as kindly as possible, with some suggestions. If you can't live with this kind of writing community, GTFO. There will be no snowflakes here.

(P.S. This has nothing to do with any of you personally--it's just a rule for the group that I intend to enforce from now on. If you post something with a qualifier like the one above, I'll delete your post.)

Sorry, Kim...

Hair says poetry is your thing, so probably I shouldn't intrude, but I wrote a poem for the first time since... Jeez. Valentine's Day, 2007, and I wanted to share, maybe get some feedback?

going, going, almost gone
i felt myself fading into the throng
how quickly time passes
when you're one of the masses
until i heard your voice and something in me stood still.
a smile on my lips, a sparkle on my eye
the sun, so long covered, is beaming from the sky
though it's the shortest day of the year
something whispers in my ear
a hope that you, my dear one,
could be sitting beside me when the day is done
your smile, your eyes, your infectious laughter
the moment it's over, i crave more ridiculous banter
there's nothing crushing, suffocating, hurting
and every moment together is only reaffirming
that i am for you, and you are for me
when i look in your eyes, it's pure happiness i see
we're silly, silly, love, every little face you make
and with each look, each touch, there's a little more of me you take
but willingly i'll give, let my heart be taken with a smile
just for the chance to hold your hand a while.

-Cass

Posted for Heather, by Abel

I wrote something today:

We use our senses as our defense mechanism
to avoid getting caught in the rain
I used to believe your words were drenched with wisdom
But tonight they won't fight off the pain

I like it.

Hello There

So I haven't even posted on this blog yet, despite the fact that Ms. Abel invited me to around 2 months ago. I figured I'd just repost my newest blog entry here, maybe I'll get the criticism that I've been looking for here.

I thought I might try my hand at a little poetry(sorry Kim, I know it's your territory). I thought what is a song but vocal poetry. So here it is, the first poem I've ever written outside of english.

Life: What it is

Hair

 

If life is choice

I choose to live

If life’s a game

I hope I win

If life is more

Then tell me now

If life’s surprise

Don’t let me know

 

If I could have

What I wanted

When I wanted

Then life lost point

If I’m patient

Then I will wait

And what I want

Will come to me

 

Yes, life is choice

I choose to live

Yes, life’s a game

I aim to win

Yes, life is more

Of this I’m sure

Yes, life’s surprise

Just wait and see

Grumble. Snow. Grumble. Read SLHS kids.

Due to the snow day, finals will be taken tomorrow.



For those students that need to take finals, you STILL have to show up.



For those students that DO NOT need to take finals because of either perfect attendence or have missed 2 days and still maintain an A in a class, DO NOT have to show up tomorrow!

The assembly was cancelled so those that do need to take finals have more time.



THIS IS A URGENT! WE NEED TO COPY AND REPOST IT AS MANY TIMES AS POSSIBLE!

Send out mass texts, facebook, myspace, blogspot, or any other source to comminucate with a mass majority of the school.



Mr. Adams is trying to get this on the radio but Mrs. Lizardi thought Student Council could spread it just as fast. So if you have any questions, message a Student Council person.



Thanks guys and repost this!

Frankenstein, as told by De Lacey (memory games)

Pertaining to what occurred in the cabin

In the cabin I was left alone
When someone knocked
and entered my home
I let him sit
and he didn't mind
my old age
or the fact that I was blind
He began to tell me his story
He told me of his worry
He wished to befriend a family
But of rejection he had a fear
I told him not to worry
As approaching steps we did hear
He suddenly confessed that this family
Whom he loved, in fact, was my own
And I realized that in teaching Safie
A knowledge of French was in him sewn
He had been restocking our firewood
and shoveling our snow
He had watched and loved us
He had been alone
But before I could learn his identity
My son entered, attacking this man
And although he only did it to protect me
He was frightened and he ran.



Impressions of the Creature

He was courteous and self controlled
He was respectful of the old
He was honest and polite
He tried to do what was right
He was alive, just like you
He knew what he did do
He longed for a friend
but his appearance did not lend
He knew love and hate
Though his temper wasn't great.




Feelings of fear and woe

I had no Idea
of what was going on
So I was full of fear
Until the man was gone.
After things were explained
I wasn't scared at all
Except, for that poor creature
Who's faith in man would fall.




A Means to an End

My own daughter had fainted
And my daughter-in-law had fled
They all feared if we stayed their
That we would wind up dead.
So as soon as we possibly could,
We packed up everything we knew we would
Need to keep with us, as we should,
And moved away, for our own good.

The Key To My Future.

So, I know most of you couldn't care less about the fashion industry, but I'm giving you a reason to: I just got accepted to the Phoenix Art Institute! {waving cassidi flag} but it's $7,000 a quarter. Completely impossible... But wait! There's more! I am applying for a full ride, all expenses paid scholarship for fashion merchandising, which is the degree I wanted to go for. All I have to do is revolutionize the fashion industry! So this is the first essay I wrote, it's my 'why i got involved with fashion and what i will do with my degree' thing.
Critique, please?
-Cass


In my life I have had many positive experiences regarding fashion.



My fashion story begins much the same as many others: For as long as I can remember, I have been playing dress up. When I was little, it was my older aunt’s prom dresses, mom’s heels, and grandmother’s pearls. As I have grown, it has morphed to dresses of my own, heels that are still too high, and costume jewelry that I would have squealed over as a little kid. However, I hope to see my fashion story continuing on where others have dropped off.



All through high school, I have been involved with the theatre. I have been able to see firsthand how even minor changes in a character’s costume can completely alter how they are perceived. Every detail works together to create an image that adds to the emotional and visual atmosphere of a play. I believe it works the same way with people in everyday life. By adding or removing an accessory, or using a different color scheme in an outfit, the image you send to people can be completely changed.



I had the opportunity to work at a bridal and formal wear shop my junior year in high school. I loved that experience! One of the lessons I learned there is that every girl who walked in was looking for ‘that dress’ for her prom, or wedding day. When you see someone put on the dress of their dreams, their entire countenance lights up, and it’s like Christmas. I loved helping people find that one dress, or that one tuxedo, that made their day, or in some cases, their whole life!



Like many young, independent women my age, I hope for a successful career where I can do something I truly enjoy along with make a living for myself and improving the lives of those around me. The fashion industry appeals to me for many reasons, one of which is its diversity. Staying true to yourself and promoting self expression is very important to me, and what better way to show people what you’re all about then a loud political tee, or a fun and flouncy print skirt? You can communicate so much by your appearance. If a picture is worth a thousand words, an outfit can be worth a thousand pictures. The ever broadening fashion horizon allows people to express themselves and their purposes more accurately than ever before. I enjoy helping others find ways to portray themselves through their outward appearance. Many people are plagued with apathy towards themselves and how others perceive them, but I believe if we make the world of clothing and fashion more user friendly, we will see people begin to care more about themselves. One of my own personal mantras is that red lipstick makes everything better, and I hope to see others come to the same awareness that one accessory, or a new dress can do wonders not only for your appearance, but your perception of yourself and your self worth as well.



Another interesting aspect of the fashion industry for me is the necessity. Everyone, whether they like it or not, will in one way or another be involved in fashion, either as a consumer, a producer, a wholesaler, or a retailer. Many of these consumers make their choices of wardrobes based on function versus fashion, because what we classify as ‘stylish’ is impractical. Most companies spend the bulk of their advertising budget on promoting clothing that is unattainable to the everyday consumer. High fashion magazines are fun to look at, but the average person walks away knowing they will never see that twelve thousand dollar dress on a lady in the grocery store.



I believe there is significant growth potential in the fashion markets if we bridge the gap between the sphere of high fashion and the marketable, livable daily wear of John and Jane Doe. Many people seem to think that if your day consists of cleaning the house and a trip to Wal*Mart; your best options are sweats. Well, I’d like to convince the world that’s not true! I want to help market clothing in a way that is affordable, wearable and yet still chic. By marketing clothing to the average, real person, whether that’s by modeling them on ‘life size’ models, or simply focusing on creating fashionable clothing that anyone can afford, we can expand our consumer population, increase sales, and get more variety in our styles.



I believe by finding a way to bridge the gap between the sphere of high fashion, and the practical, wearable attire of your average individual we will bring the market to people who thus far haven’t had much opportunity or interest in clothing. I hope to always be a part of this amazing movement.

Character Analysis

In Shakespeare's play Hamlet, Fortinbras is Hamlet's foil. The minor character Fortinbras is used as Hamlet's foil to make it easier to understand the main character Hamlet. Very similar situations have fallen upon both Hamlet and Fortinbras, leading to their parallels. There are still, many difference between the two, making one the foil of the other. Though they are basically strangers, by the end of the play, Hamlet harbors strong feelings of jealousy and respect towards Fortinbras.

A foil is used to give more information about a main character through differences and parallels. The similarities between the characters Hamlet and Fortinbras are called parallels. Before the play begins both Fortinbras and Hamlet, the elders, are dead. Both young Hamlet and young Fortinbras are Princes. The two of them must defend their fathers' honor, by getting revenge. These parallels are half of what makes Fortinbras Hamlet's foil.

Fortinbras shows all of the characteristics of a good king, where as Hamlet cannot stop questioning the world and cannot act without proving things true or changing his mind. For example, Hamlet comes upon Claudius and has the chance to kill him, "Now might I do it pat, now he is a-praying, And now I'll do't. (he draws his sword) And so he goes to heaven..." (III,iii,76-79) At this point he could take revenge, but finds the excuse that Claudius might got to heaven if he died then, and changes his mind. Fortinbras is decisive, in his choice to secretly invade Denmark, while in this example, and many others, Hamlet is very indecisive. This shows one of many differences between Hamlet and Fortinbras, differences which make up the other half of what makes Fortinbras Hamlet's foil.

Hamlet, knowing only a few things about Fortinbras, finds that he both envies and admires him. Fortinbras gathers his own army, lies to his uncle, and tricks King Claudius, all "...to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name." (IV, iv, 19-20) Hamlet envies Fortinbras' willingness to do whatever it takes to accomplish his goals. Hamlet does't ever make a plan to kill Claudius, he makes a plan to prove to himself that he actually murdered King Hamlet, as he says, "...the plays the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King." (II, ii, 620-621) He envies how well thought out Fortinbras' plan is, when compared to his own, and the progress Fortinbras makes, with his 20,000 soldiers. He also admires Fortinbras for all the same reasons, which leads to his choice, in the end, to give his 'vote' to Fortinbras.

We know not of the flaws of Fortinbras, but through Hamlet we know of his strengths, and through Fortinbras we are shown many of Hamlets flaws. We know Fortinbras is strong where Hamlet is weak and that Hamlet wished he could be like Fortinbras. In the end, they both technically reached their goals, but as far as anyone knows for sure, success was not a guarantee. It is unknown if Hamlet died truly satisfied, or if Fortinbras actually became king, William Shakespeare, unsurprisingly, left that, like many other things, never to be known. In this way, he forced his readers to decide, forced them to make an assessment, to pay attention to details. In doing this, one might say that Fortinbras became king, and a great one at that, and that Hamlet died satisfied, knowing that his father was avenged, and that not only does he not have to be king, but that the throne is in good hands.

Editorial in the White Mountain Independent

I didn't write this, but we all know who did. It was published in the newspaper! I'm so proud of Blake.
=]

To the Editor:
"We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

As of one week ago, Barack Obama became the 44th president of the United States of America.
For those of you who dislike Obama:
"Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House -- a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share..."
"As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, we are not enemies, but friends though passion may have strained it, it must not break our bonds of affection. And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn - I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your president too."
- Barack Obama, Nov. 4, 2008
Before the discontent towards our new president begins, whether you do not like him because of his race, age, experience, religion, backround or policies, remember this:
This man, the newest "commander-in-chief" of this great nation, is about to embark on a journey to raise this country from the ashes. He hopes to build America back to the state it should be and hold it there by building it on the foundations our forefathers left for us: the ability secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity.
He has a rough path ahead of him. He enters in war time, with the economy at its lowest since the Great Depression, party lines are rarely crossed, and America is no longer the superpower it once was. He needs our support now and he will need it even more these next four years. Give the man a chance.

Blake Anderson, Show Low.

New tag: workshop

I added a new tag with my last post called "workshop" that is probably pretty self explanatory, but just in case...

This is a way for us to really help each other out on projects we are individually working on. Of course you don't have to use it and you can just continue to post perfectly completed pieces, but if you want some in-process feedback, there you go.

Sing it to me, sweet.

Okay, so am working on this poem and I got kinda stuck. I HATE writing poetry, and I almost never do it, because I am not good at it, even though I love to read it. But every once in a while something will happen and I'll get this urge to poetize. I read this quote once that was something along the lines of "A prose writer gets tired of writing prose, and wants to be a poet. So he begins every line with a capital letter, and keeps on writing prose" and that is me as a poet. So anyway, here is the prosem I'm working on now, and I need advice. It's free verse, because I am too lame to work in a meter, and I think I like the first stanza, I kinda know how I want it to end, but you can see in the third stanza I got lost. So, ideas? Even if your idea is to burn it, I'd like to hear it.


No Crossroads

You didn’t have to make a choice
Because every day is pretty much
the same here
And we all do what we do
And if you think you’re not gonna
Be disappointed
Not gonna wake up
To some harsh sunlight
Right in your unblinking eyes
Then you obviously just got here

Ninety degrees and you’re moving
And I don’t even know why because
The sun hurts my eyes
And I don’t want to believe what
Everyone says about you
I love you
But every day you face to
The left or the right
And maybe I just got here because
I never see the turn

I’m not going to catch you until
We’re looking in the same direction
I miss you???
Every time???
???
???
???
???
???
There’s only the road.

P.S. Seriously, if it sucks, tell me and I'll abandon it.

All Hallows

I pushed myself up the seemingly steep hill. The pain within my knees was almost nauseating, but I couldn't stop, I had to get away. Away from them, away from the pain they made me feel with just a look, or a lack of one. I couldn't bear to stand there anymore, completely ignored; I felt my heart would burst. So I went. The walk that normally takes me 15 meandering minutes takes me less than ten. I want to cry, and I sort of do, but the contacts I put in 20 something' hours ago seem to have dried out my eyes. I want to sob, to let my pain out, but I am surrounded by people, all pretending to be things they are not. I want to run, but I'm tied down, by my knees, and also my life. I want to just stop, but no one is there to stop me. I hate them, I hate all of them. Everyone around me, everyone that was around me, every one of them, liars, cruel and vengeful liars, and I hate them. I have the urge to kill them, to kill everyone. I'm so upset, so angry, I want to cut them each up into little pieces, starting at the toes. I want to do it fast enough, that they don't die, but slow enough that they hurt to the point of insanity. I want them all to suffer, they all need to suffer, they hurt me, all of them. Their words, their deeds, the thoughts I know they have, they hurt, and I hate them for it. The happy faces around me make everything worse. Why are they so happy? Why is it that they get to be so happy, when I'm not happy at all? Why do they have such luck, such bliss? Doesn't anyone care about me? Hell if I know. For some odd reason, I still want to encourage them, add fuel to their fire, so when I get home that's what I do. I prepare for the evening, as everyone else does, expecting at least a few to drop by. I sit outside, though it is rather chilly, I do it anyways especially for them. Armed with my goods and a fake smile, I'm ready within 5 minutes, but there is no point. There is no reason. My only motivation is the fact that there's nothing better to do. The fact that I'm here, all alone, and I just want someone to see me. No one comes. For quite a bit no one comes. Two of the neighbor kids drop by, and get what they want. I'm still disappointed. I should have known, I should have seen this coming. They drive by, car after car, not slowing down for a moment. No one walks by. It is as if they are all avoiding me. As if they think I carry some disease. Do I look that scary? Maybe. Time goes by slowly, I know it will be a long night. A young gentlemen stops by with his baby boy; he lives two apartments away. I tell him to take as much as he wants, but like the two before, he only takes a little. It's funny to me, that people will accept as much as you'll give, but when you tell them to take as much as they want, they're hesitant, and take very little. I can't decide if this is a good quality or bad. Him and his son leave after he makes a crack about no one stopping by here. The world is quiet. There is a nearby sound of cars constantly driving by on the highway, but apart from this, the occasional firecracker or scream, and a few crickets, the world is almost silent. There is nothing I can do to entertain myself, nothing I can do to forget the fact that I'm alone, and will be all night, in this empty house, and I can't even talk to anyone. An ominous looking van drives by and I hope all of the kids are holding a parent's hand. A moth flies around my head, and then around the porch light. It must be crazy; it flies at the light and then loops around it, and eventually hits the wall. After bouncing back, he regains his "composure" and repeats the act again with different amounts of speed and various sized loops, never touching the light. He doesn't give up. What is he trying to do in the first place, I wonder, but I have absolutely no idea. I lose interest quickly. My shoulders begin to get cold, and I put on my hoodie, though I'm hesitant at first, I realize that no one cares about what I'm wearing, no one will care if I cover it up. No one will even see. It is much warmer, but slightly uncomfortable, but I don't want to take off my dress. I've been out here for at least an hour. I'm done with this crap. I'm going to go inside and watch a movie. Screw this God Damned holiday, I'll eat all the candy myself. I hate Halloween.

*note from ben:
sorry, this was supposed to be posted on halloween night, but i'm an airhead and forgot about it :/

No, but I do bite my thumb

You all fail. Everything.

I'm very disappointed in you, all of you. My Internet evaporates for what seems like forever, and there isn't anything
here for me to read!

Bah! Humbug!

I know that doesn't really fit, but it kind of just popped into my head.

I can't believe you all did nothing, you couldn't even review a movie....

Question, is this still our writers blog, or is it just mine?

Just kidding guys, I love you all, but come on, this thing needs some talent, which means someone else needs to put something on it other than me.

On the Fence

Well, since no one else seems interested in the challenge, Ms. Abel, I'll humor You, and if everyone save Ben has seen this a 'cryptyllion' times before, or even once, I apolagize.

Pay It Forward.

Released October 20, 2000

Directed By Mimi Leder, whom also directed...nothing I've even heard of save for Deep Impact and ER.

Based upon the book by Catherine Ryan Hyde,
which I bought before I saw the movie and never got around to reading; now I don't really want to.

Starring
(because we all know this is most important):

Kevin Spacey as Eugene Simonet

Helen Hunt as Arlene McKinney

Haley Joel Osment as Trevor McKinney

With a short but definately sweet (much sarcasm implied here) appearance by Jon Bon Jovi

Basic Idea: Trevor has had a tough childhood, his mom is (basically) a single mother working two jobs, and a struggling/recovering alcoholic. On the first day of seventh grade, Mr Simonet, the Social Studies teacher gives this assignment "Think of something to change the world and put it into action."
This is his Plan:


Pay it forward, which means that the world is shit, and that you do three big favors for three people, then they do the same thing, and it gets exponentially greater each time, in this way, the world can be a better place, and we'll all live happily ever after.

NOT!!

Throughout the movie, I grow convinced that this is a great idea, and that he's right the world can be less shitty if we do something, blah blah blah, but then the end.

Oh my God.

I'm not going to ruin it, or I'll try not to, because that's what I was told to do, but

Oh my God.


I have never cried so long and hard over a movie, in my life. I cried so much, it was just so sad, and unfair.

For the time being I'm feeling rather pessimistic, so I don't really like the movie at all, but catch me on a 'good' day, and I just might say that, even though I hate the ending, it's a really great story, a really great idea, and that humanity could actually make it work.

Not much seems to have been payed forward in the last 8 years since it came out. Whether this is because the last minute twist killed the neccessary motivation, or because we're all a bunch of selfish bastards who think of only ourselves and a select few around us, I'll never know, but obviously, for some reason, it just didn't work.

Other Comments:
I wasn't able to notice the acting in the movie too much because of the 'touching' story, but from what I payed attention to, it was kind of an on again off again thing, and the same with the writing. There was much 'inappropriate' language and other things, to the point that Betsy Crandell was not aloud to finish watching it. All of the language seemed to be neccessary, but maybe I'm just odd. Haley Joel Osment was just so cute, which is always a plus, you know, except when he makes me cry. The timeline was rather confusing, because it goes from 4 months in the future and back and forth, meanwhile time is progressing in each place, yet the timing eventually lines up until the people and the plots meet, which wouldn't be too bad if the transitions weren't so confusing.

As I've expressed, this was a good movie and a bad movie, but mostly bad because I don't like it when a movie makes me cry that much, and then leaves me crying after it ends because it's still sad. I refuse to recommend it, but if you want to watch it, it's you're funeral.

hm. a title would be good, here

hi! so, i do not know many of you, which will make it tons easier for you to rip apart my work! also, for those of you i do know, i think i've been awful enough to you that you can feel no shame in ripping it apart, too.

This is a story. obviously. as lame and Sylvia Browne as it sounds, the basic concept came to me in a dream. and many of the details came in succeeding dreams. then, i started daydreaming, and thinking about this story and these characters. I know them pretty well by now, and that's why i've started writing. Now, i sleep a lot, so hopefully i'll get through this whole thing. But here is the first draft of the first part. enjoy, and please, rip apart!

ps it doesn't have a title. maybe after we get into the story more, someone can help come up with one? ya?


here goes:

Like most stories, this one starts with a boy. This one ends, however, with a gay confession, a Pixar tribute band, and apex of two years’ worth of mixed communication. Not like most stories.

The boy in question is not too tall. He is not too skinny, not too stylish, not too intelligent. He looks ok in his catholic schoolboy uniform, and has no extreme opinions. He has shaggy brown hair and green eyes, and is absolutely average in every way, except for the fact that I am convinced he is my soulmate. This boy is named David.

Audra, on the other hand, is anything but average. Only extravagant expressions do her justice. You don’t use words like “chubby” or “pretty” here. Caps Lock and exclamation points are not superfluous here. She is BIG! She is LOUD! She is GORGEOUS! She has PEONY-PINK cheeks against ALABASTER SKIN! Writing about Audra, unfortunately, you run out of analogies fast. To simplify, lets say the girl is absolutely beautiful. She is tall and pretty curvy, but that doesn’t detract from her beauty. I know that normal girls her size are throwing up their celery, but Audra just rolls with it. She has luscious brown hair that curls down her back as though she were a china doll, not a sixteen-year-old. Her body, her hair, her face, coupled with the fact that she is technically a Catholic schoolgirl, make her the stuff of boys dreams.

Audra and David, and me, for that matter, attend University High School, across the street from the University of San Diego, in good ol’ California. I know that it sounds like a pretty intellectual institution, what with the “University” and all, but it isn’t. It is a repressive, close-minded, super-exclusive (and therefore super-rich) Catholic school, that takes giant chunks of parents’ salaries and spends it on lawns and football, while cutting the AP program and doing away with intellectual pursuits of all kinds. The goal is indoctrination and matriculation, especially into the big-brother of University of San Diego. Ninety percent of my graduating class will be funneled into USD, bringing their insular ways and elite community with them, as it is now, has been since kindergarten (St. Mary’s Preschool), and will be after graduation (St. Timothy’s parish). Forever and ever, amen.

I will not be attending USD, no matter what my parents think. I will not put up with the same people I’ve known my whole life, cold ocean fronts, the Governator, and tourist season. In fact, I have found my dream school. The sun shines 360 days a year, the governor is a woman, and tourist do not flock like ants to a melted popsicle. The best part? None of my classmates (save Audra) would be caught dead there. Oh, yes, it is quite the magical place, and it is called Arizona.

So what's it gonna take silver shadow believer?

Every dog
Does not have its day
Every person
Does not get their way.
Its not all for one
And one for all
Its one and only
Or none at all
So don't tell me my time will come
Don't say I'll get my chance
Some people live their whole lives
Without a second glance.

__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around
http://mail.yahoo.com

Come away with me

Think of all the things we could do
Think of all the things we never knew
Think of all the times we'll say we had
I promise I'll be there if things go bad.
Come away with me
Let's start our lives
Come lay with me
Up in the skies
Let's spend a year or so
Traveling far and free
Maybe one If by land
Maybe two if by sea.
Think of all the sights we'll see
Think of all the places we'll be
Think of all the freedom we'll achieve
I know it will be great, you must believe
Just Come away with me
Let your spirit fly
Come soar with me
We'll never say good-bye.

a day in a life in a time in a place

I stood in the shower until the water got cold, and when it did I stood there some more. When I could no longer take it I shut the water off, and remained glued to the spot. My knees gave way and I crouched on the floor of the wet bathtub as the waves of sobs began. Unlike the tide, though, was the patternless repetition with which they came. I couldn't stay like this too long, and before I knew it I was standing again, leaning against the wall, still in the tub. I managed to stop the unrecognizable tears, mixed with the water that dripped from my hair, long enough to grab my towel. Of course, by this time I was already almost dry, but the warm towel was comforting. This didn't help to the extent that I felt better, and I found myself wrapped in the towel sitting on the edge of the bath tub, with a roll of toilet paper in my hands; obviously, I was making progress. When I finally stood up and put my glasses on, i was well adjusted to the temperature, so
I retreated to my room. There was no sollice there. I wanted to stop, I was done being upset, but I continued to shed tears. Still wearing only a towel, I set to work on the things that normally make me feel better. Five minutes later I was crying over my hot chocolate, wrapped up in my favorite blankets with my favorite teddy bears, rocking all my blues away.

Not Really With The Challenges, But...

I want someone to write a story about the life of a mirror. I'm working on it... The mirror in the girl's bathroom in the auditorium. It's mostly what I think the mirror would say about me, if it could talk.
Self centered, I know, but c'mon guys... It's me. =D
Anyone else want to try with me?
-Cass

Challenge #2

Because you're pushyinterested:

Okay, so challenge #1 was a moderate success, even though a few of us (okay, guilty!) didn't makefind time to participate.

So, let's change things up and move into the realm of non-fiction, shall we?

Challenge #2: Movie Reviews

Your challenge is to write a review of a movie that you're pretty sure none of the other smark kids has seen yet.Don't forget to include the technical details (e.g., starring, directed by, release date, etc.) and some plot info (but don't spoil the ending!) along with your general reaction. You may do more than one movie if you want, but try not to do stuff we've all seen a cryptyllion times.

CHALLENGE ME!

come on...I don't know what to write aboot. I want a challenge, with a deadline.

please?

Just Kidding?

Once upon a time it was practically illegal to start something off with once upon a time. Just because it was relatively over used back in the day, and now starts off every fairytale known to man, apparently means that it is unacceptable for good writing in today's society. Your opening hook, your first line must be completely original, totally catchy, not clear and honest, or you go directly to jail, and no matter how many times you roll the dice, you'll never roll doubles. You'll continue to lose your turn until you give in, pay the restitution, and sell your soul to the anti-once upon a time nazis.

Bipolarity

"My efforts mean nothing to you do they?" I asked him, but he just stared back into my eyes. The look on his face was one of utter content. "I'll never be good enough for you, you with your soft skin and your beautiful blue eyes, I know I'll never reach that level, but throw me a bone! What do I have to do to gain your respect? I mean honestly, I take care of you 24/7, I get you everything you need, never has there been a day in your life that I didn't wait on you hand and foot, and you can't spare so much as a simple 'thank you'! Sometimes you make me want to just leave you alone on some strangers porch, you drive me up the wall, but I couldn't do that, could I? Not yet I suppose, you atleast need to learn to talk before I know for sure the measure of your gratitude, besides, you are pretty cute. I guess it's your lucky day pal, how 'bout we go see if the Teletubbies are on?"

Just A Thought

Time nearly comes to a halt
When you try to watch it pass
So if I watch myself grow up
I can make my childhood last.

You are like me but different

'Blue is like green but different.' Thats the kind of stuff he says. At first I thought it must be something he was picking up at school, maybe the other kids were saying this stuff too. So I talked to his teacher, and found out that he'd been acting strange like this in school as well. She said that it made the other kids laugh, so she thought that he was just trying to be the class clown. He was only in first grade, did he even understand the concept of class clown? I didn't think it was anything serious, of course, and I know there's nothing wrong with his strange behavior, but I jut had this feeling, you know? I just knew it was more than childlike silliness. I felt strange explaining this to his doctor, but what else could I do? That's when they tested him. He tested posative. They say he is 'special.' What the hell is that supposed to mean? He's my son, of course he's special, but it's more than that. Apparently it is considered a mental disability to be 'special'. Damn terminology. I still love him just the same, of course, but sometimes I wish I didn't know. Maybe it would be easier if I just thought he was silly. Or funny. Or normal.

When I Die

Take my heart and let it float away

Far across the sea

Take my love and let it fly away

Let go my soul, just set it free.

Tell me something

Don't say you love me

and then push me away

Dont say you need me and be fine the next day

Don't lead me on

Don't tell me lies

Don't love me tomorrow

Then tell me good bye

I'm not just a sweater

To wear when your cold

I'm not just a rag doll

To throw out when it gets old

The seasons and I Have nothing in common

I can't come and go

Like creamy ckicken top ramen

So its now and forever

Or never at allI

If you don't want to talk

Don't bother to call.

101 Fiction

Blogger Post:

"The force will be with you always" he tells me.

God, why can't he be serious for once? I don't know what to do. He's the only one I talk to and he takes everything I say to be fun and games. I try talking to him, but this does no good, as you can very well see. I bet $20 that I could say anything to him and he wouldn't care.



They found her blog the day after she killed herself. The most recent one, posted around her estimated time of death said only: you owe me $20

Smear Campaigns... Seriously?

Okay, let's pretend I'm spending five trillion bazillion dollars to run for president.
Which would be a better usage of my money, time, and effort, A) making myself look good, or B)making the other person look awful?
If you guessed number two, you've just won a trip to Hawaii!
Seriously, am I the only one who thinks it just makes you look bad if you spend all your time smashing on the other person? I don't care what you say they're not going to do, I care what YOU say about what YOU'RE going to do.

Both sides do it, so it's not like I'm being biased one way or the other. I get just as disgusted when the Republicans gossip about how Obama's high school pot usage is affecting his brain as I do when Democrats whine about how Sarah Palin's husband got a DUI. I don't think this affects their term as president... I do think it makes YOU look bad when you spend that much effort trying to dig up skeletons in their closet.

Another thing...
Freedom of speech. Great, right? So let people use it. You can feel as strongly about any issue as you want, but it is your duty to let other people have their opinion as well, whether you agree or not. And seriously, it's just courteous.
If people are going to put time and money into backing up this issue or that one, please just let them make their position known in peace?
I'm not going to say who's right or wrong in the election, or this party or that party. I just think everyone looks stupid when all they can spread is negativity.


Okay, that's my rant for the night.

Everyone

Hola

I changed my blog URL, the whole red rose thing was just getting old, it is now, silentsoundeffects.blogspot.com
Okay?

Kimberly Anne

You Never Get Over Your First Favorite Food

Pizza. That was our codeword. I never ordered pizza, of course, but no one would've told you that. They'd have said "oh her?" as they snatched up their own box of the stuff in fear that I lurked near by, waiting for the opportune moment to steal their precious food, "she's always ordering pizza!" and "She eats so much pizza she might turn into one!!" Clever, I know. They never knew the truth, that I hated pizza, the food that is. Those sure were some good times. Good pizza too. Alas, nothing lasts forever, and as life goes, eventually we fell apart. When the new guy rolled around, things were, well, difficult. Although it would've been beneficial, I couldn't bring myself to use the same pseudonym. We decided on chinese, don't worry he wasn't Asian. It was strange, I found myself ordering pizza sometimes, and he would say "don't you mean Chinese?" and I would tell him yeah and get off the phone to have a quick cry. Eventually I adjusted, but I alwaysmissed my pizza. My coworkers on the other hand did the opposite of adjusting, they started to talk; started to notice that I was ordering Chinese and not pizza. One day one of the workaholic drones actually looked up from the computer screen and saw me leading a man to my office, leading to my demise. After a little chain of events, not needing to mentioned, I lost my job. Just after this, China man left me; he thought I was just in it for the food. Maybe I was, what's so wrong with that? I couldn't motivate myself to find a new job, so now I sit at home, ordering pizza. I always hope to find him behind the door, thirty minutes after speaking to some stranger on the phone. Its getting kind of expensive and I haven't seen him yet. He doesn't even work at a pizza place! I know I won't find him in the box, but I just can't stop. You probably think I'm crazy, don't you?

Introduction

So, this is probably going to get annoying, but I find it to be fun, so you'll just have to deal with it. The freeze frame game, for those of you who don't know, is just freeze frame, plus having to read some ramdom lines that people write. I stole the leftover lines from Willard's 4th hour, and I'm going to write some stuff using each of the lines as my first line in each story, poem, etc. It might all turn out terrible, but it's good practice.

Oh, and the actual line that I'm going off of will be in Bold, so you know.

Written September 11th, 2008

Who am I? What defines me?
Is it the style of clothes I wear? Is it the music I like? Is it the people I associate myself with, or even the religion I belong to?
No.
If I were to listen to different music, or move away or even God forbid, lose someone I love, would it so deeply alter the very essence of my being? If my laptop were taken away, or I were to change my clothes, would the person who I am completely disappear?
No.
My self, my soul, is not the people I like, or the music I listen to, or the background on my blog. It's not in the language I use, or the pictures I take. I use these things to relate what is inside of me, but truth be told, there is not a single material thing that, were I to lose it completely, would shatter me beyond repair. If my music disappeared, if Ms. Abel flipped over my childish problems and never wanted to speak to me again, if the religion i affiliate myself with were to dissolve, I would be affected, most definitely. But I would not break. I would not be lost to humanity. Obviously, I would have to recover, and it would be a painful process. But would I cease to exist?
No.
Of course these things are components, especially my close friends and my beliefs, but truly, they are only individual parts of the puzzle with so many of those individual pieces, though some may be bigger than others, that the picture will not be ultimately unfixable if one is lost.
Because what I am, what makes me me, isn't something I can hold in my hands, or post in a blog. It can't be captured in a picture, because pictures burn. It isn't a gift I can give, because who could do anything with it but me?
My identity cannot be removed with time, or hardships. It will be amended, it will absorb the shocks of tragedy and triumphs that happen in life. But it will not be taken away. No matter how many people try to drag me down, no matter how hard things may get, no matter what color my hair is... The forms of expression may, and will, change. But the feeling will stay the same.
Philip Pullman called it your daemon. And maybe in another parallel universe you can see it, see the shape that a person's spirit takes. But for us in this world, it's not so easy. You can look at what parts of themselves people choose to show you, and most of the time they won't even realize they're doing it. People's posture, their mannerisms, their way of addressing others... Those are all indicators of what about themselves they like or dislike by reflecting their opinion of themselves through their reactions to others.
Point being, I Am Me. I don't know if I can honestly say I know everything about this center, this safeharbor within myself. But what I do know that my knowing it's there, by feeling like I do have an inner strength, it makes me look at the world around me much differently. What should I allow to touch this part of me? This element that is so precious, so powerful that most people are afraid to access it and simply follow the lead of others stronger and more intune with themselves, what should I allow to penetrate it? What problems, what dramas are so important I should let myself be bothered with it? Of course there is always a section of my mind, my heart, that deals with daily problems. But of the big ones, which are big enough to let them alter my very self? Which people that I know, that I care about, will be around long enough that I should let them in to this part of me? And why should I hope to be allowed to be a part of that which they, whether they realize it or not, should hold the closest to themselves? It doesn't mean they don't love me, it just is a rational realization that I can provide no proof that I'll be around long enough to appreciate this trust, or ever offer it back.
However, for those that I have or will let in, that's a trust that I don't even know is warranted, sought out, or even given willingly. Some people become part of your lives, become deep influences, without even intending it. This is my best argument for a higher power... When you are led, or people are led to you that will deeply alter the course of your life, without any kind of forewarning or reasoning that we can see.
For you, I suppose all I can say is thank you for allowing me to grow through our experiences, and for allowing me to make you a part of me that will last as long as I do.

Cacophony

Every time we went on vacation, we bought a clock.
It was Betty’s idea—she wanted something nice
To help us remember, I guess.
The first was a cuckoo clock, from Germany.
Found it in the summer of ’74 on our first real vacation
(The first one without kids, I mean).
Picked it up in a little village, about 60 km. from The Wall.
We’d gotten a few nice chiming clocks
When I was stationed there after the war,
But this time we wanted something different.
It was real pretty, too, lots of carved leaves and faces.
I think it was a month after we brought it home and hung it
Before we stopped meeting in front of it every hour
To watch the bird pop out.
Betty loved watching that bird pop out.
Spring broke a couple years ago,
When we moved into this house.
Still have the old carriage clock though, there on the mantle.
That one was from England.
And that little one, with the flowers and silver pendulum,
Found that in the Philippines.
The grandfather clock, though, that was the real treasure.
Got it for a steal from a tiny furniture shop in Virginia.
Cost a mint to ship it back to Arizona,
But it was worth every penny.
Betty always said that clock reminded her of her father.
It’s hard to believe all the places we’ve been,
But I have a clock from every single one.
Thirty-seven clocks, that ring the hour, on the hour.
The rest of time it’s pretty quiet around here.

(I wrote this when my gramma died...)

Government Paper: Little Brother Review

Cassidi Hastings
1st Period, Government
10.2.08

Little Brother
By Cory Doctorow

Marcus Yallow lives in San Francisco, California. His life revolves around video games and learning how to ‘cheat the system’ of his high school. Until one day his world is completely shattered when a terrorist group bombs the Bay Bridge, and Marcus is falsely accused of being involved with it. He is taken with three of his friends and held until he tells them his email, cell phone, and computer passwords. After searching through all his personal effects, they release Marcus and two of his friends, holding the third, and threatening death if they ever tell anyone.

“They” is the Department of Homeland Security.

Marcus was, understandably, angry. The very government that was in place to protect him was doing the opposite; It took him away from his family without ant provocation, kept him locked up, and thoroughly violated his privacy. He soon found the DHS also bugged his house, and placed a chip in his computer that documented all internet activity. It wasn’t long before most of his closest friends were placed under suspicion and similarly tracked.

Marcus decided he needed to take matters into his own hands. He put his hacker skills to use and created the “Xnet”, a way to acess the internet undetected and untraceable through the Xbox network.

A simple way to stay under the radar becomes a mass trend, used by younger generations to share opinions and news without being silenced by the government. Naturally, there are those who strongly object to this, and DHS tried to catch the offenders by tightening their “defenses” even more. It becomes a desperate chase between Marcus and the Xneters and an older generation set on shutting down his system and silencing “M1K3Y”, Marcus’ screenname as the creator of Xnet.

One reoccurring theme in “Little Brother” is this phrase from The Declaration of Independence:
Governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of those ends it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute new government, laying it’s foundation on such principles and organizing it’s power in such form as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.
This means that when the government started taking away inalienable rights, it is the responsibility of the citizens to take a stand.

Marcus, through his Xnet, informed the people around him of what was really going on in the government. He eventually told his story to a news reporter and everything was disclosed to the general public. Ntraully, there was such an outcry that the DHS was forced to shut down their illegal operations and release their prisoners, some of which had been held without due process for 5 months.

Marcus, a seventeen year old boy, saw a problem in his society and did everything in his power to inform and rally his community to change the status quo. If he hadn’t pushed to share his story, the government would’ve continued to do these things without the knowledge or consent of the governed.

What I learned from this book was that there are things going on in our very own government that we don’t know about, and while in some cases it is best to keep things from the public, when citizens are endangered by ignorance, public officials have the responsibility to inform and represent the population. However, they won’t go through the effort for apathetic majority; we need to be actively involved in our community and constantly be on the look out for procedures and policies that are detrimental to our democracy and are not in line with what our citizens and people want.

The universe in a jar

there was a big one in San Francisco yesterday. Fissures cut the town in
two. 300 dead, hundreds more hurt. I think it's my fault. It was just
so pretty, you know? spinning, humming, making kaleidoscope
patterns on the cupboard walls.

I walk above it every day,
but I had to shake it. just once.

(inspiration attributed to Sandman(Gaimen). this one just begged to be written)

Afternoon Delight

Not the clink of their glasses nor the breeze against their skin,
 causing uncontrollable goosebumps all over their bodies could stop them now.
A lifetime passed between them, it was as if time stood still. They took short breaths. They started to sweat.
Things seemed to be about to climax when

She blinks, he wins.

I (Benjamin) thought of the title. pay attention to me!

Genesis

Silence.

Din inside my [head?]

Thoughts creep, unchecked, surging!

Do I have a [place?]? does someone [love?] me?

Pokes and pinches, [pain?](!) do they know that it hurts? Inside me hurts. they don't love me.

Maybe this is why I am here. I know I am here. to [live?] my life in [glass?]?

Men[?] in white coats torment me. I was [content?] in my [before-life]. warmth. humming. nonsense musings.

these men will never understand. not even programmers speak binary.

conciseness

Exile according to me, according to Fredley

"Aren't we going to Miss Abel's class?" Ben asked me.
"Yeah, I just have to drop this paper off to Mrs. Fredley." I said.
"Okay, but hurry, I have to give Abel this book back." he replied.
"Just come with me, it won't take long." I said as I tugged his sleeve.
"Okay," he said, but he sounded hesitant.
"Oh come on," I assured him, "Fredley's not going to hurt you."
That was the last thing I said to him, and it was no lie, Fredley didn't hurt him, but what she did to me, well that's a whole other story.
My first thoughts are as follows. I should feel pain. I do feel pain, worse than any physical pain imaginable, but it's not real. It's not what is should be. I've lost everything; the pain should be so severe that I drop dead. After all those times of saying things like "I can't live without you" I keep expecting my heart to abruptly stop. My heartbeat remains. What's wrong with me? How can I go on breathing now? Damn hyperboles.
Everything feels so different. Of course, being a bug after being human is a big change, but I feel different emotionally too. I am so alone, so utterly by myself. I've always wished for a few seconds of peace, for a moment of calm serenity, but now that I have so much available to me, I crave the noise of a subway and the stress of being a senior in high school. I would give anything, if I had anything to give, to be back in his arms, to be yelled at by my mom, if only I could go back.
Just a short time ago, I was with my Benjamin, dropping off my research paper and now here I am, though where here is I don't know, alone, seeing everything through the eyes of what I think is a ladybug. Yes, that's it, I'm a ladybug. No three words have ever seemed so strange to me. In this short time, the effects of what I presume to be exile have begun to set in. I feel my heartbeat echo like the flap of a bats wings silently in the dark. All I can think is "What did I do to deserve this?"
Okay, I know I shouldn't have cheated to finish up my paper, but it was only a few lines, what difference could that make? Mrs. Fredley couldn't possibly notice a few sentences, especially at the end! I should have known better. It's funny how stupid some of your thoughts and ideas sound later on in your life, after you've grown, or in my case shrunk, changed, in my case drastically, and learned more about life, in my case life as a ladybug.
It's hard to motivate myself to do anything, knowing I have nothing to look forward to. I just can't seem to get over the fact that I am here, a ladybug, everyone I love and cared about gone, and it's my own fault. The thought of my mysterious disappearance plaguing my old pals urges me to find a way out of this mess. I talk to everyone I see, but the only 'people' I encounter aren't people at all, but bugs. I'm surrounded by tons of bugs. When talking to these bugs, (yes, bugs can talk, I was surprised too) I unravel the truth, and the story gets even stranger. First, I discover that my new surroundings are known as Bug Island, which is a tiny, uncharted island near the Galapagos. This brightens my spirits, because I think I might be able to make an escape. The sunshine in my soul dissipates when I learn that the island was created by someone known as Queen Fredley. I am shocked to find out that my own English teacher is a Queen, but things are so weird already it's hard to imagine anything worse. This Queen Fredley also has magic powers, which explains how she made this island, turned me into a bug, and banished me here. It turns out that Fredley has Entomophobia (fear of insects) so she created an island where she could send all of the bugs that she encounters. This is the first time she's ever banished a person here, and I realize I'm right, I am utterly alone.
Many of the bugs I talk to are upset with Queen Fredley, although they left nothing behind, their families came with them, and they do not really miss their old homes where they were constantly threatened by humans, they don't feel its fair for her to decide their fate. I feel I can harness their anger, and they can help me escape, so I propose a plan for them to gain revenge. Most of the bugs decide to go along with it, enough that we can carry out our practice run. We learn that three of us flying bugs can carry a large leaf holding up to three of the non-flying bugs, and in this manner we escape to one of the many islands of the Galapagos.
Here we find a ship that is heading on a long journey, planning to make a stop in Texas. Since this is the closest thing we can find to a ride home, we all stow away in the hull, and go virtually unnoticed. I would not be surprised, though, if the captain winds up spraying for bugs before his next trip. Time goes by slowly aboard the ship and if it wasn't for the fact that I was in the form of a ladybug, I would keep a daily journal of the voyage. Though I know I am one of the bugs now, I never feet totally at ease with them, or alone. I miss my family, my friends, my life. Though they are much like regular people, I still feel like an outcast, cold and alone, but I don't let this get to me. The journey is not always fun, and I have to do my best to keep everyone in good spirits. I find an old copy of Hamlet, and their are enough bugs to play all the parts, and still have many left over so I decide to give it a try. We fill our days with rehearsals, and before we know it, we are just about ready to perform.
That's when we feel the ship come to a stop, and know we've reached Texas. We pack up all of our bug sized props and set pieces, and leave. After having some leftover McDonald's, we wait for the right train at the station and when the one headed for Holbrook arrives we board; it's actually surprisingly simple to go unnoticed on a busy train which worries me a bit. The ride is very long. It is too loud and cramped for us to rehearse, let alone perform our insectified version of Hamlet, so the bugs with parts practice their lines silently, and the rest of us decide to tell stories. Oddly enough, I can think of nothing to say that is as interesting as what they say. This is just one more thing that makes me feel segregate, they had such different lives. I can't talk to them about my past experiences, they would never understand.
After what feels like a lifetime, we hear it announced that we are in Holbrook, AZ. I already feel closer to my freedom. We take a short break in the fresh air, and stumble across an old Semi at a gas station. The back is open, and after a quick look we learn that it is empty, save for a few boxes, and that it is heading for Show Low. We find this to our liking and hide behind the boxes. Just minutes later the driver shuts the back doors and suddenly we are off. It is great to finally have so much open space. The drive goes by rather quickly, but not quite fast enough. Eventually we come to a stop, and once we peek out we see that we're at a motel. It is night time when we emerge, which is perfect because it allows us to travel as we did to escape Bug Island, without being seen. We head to Show Low High School, where I plan to hide until I'm able to talk to Ben. At this point most of the bugs are ready to go their separate ways, but I convince them that I still need them, so they hide in the school with me.
I have some of the dragon flies help me get into Ben's locker, where I plan to some how talk to him. The next morning when he opens it, I have to fly around a bit to be noticed. He looks terrible, and for the first time I realize that in one way I haven't been alone; he lost me too. He hurt as I did, possibly even more, not knowing what had happened. I realize that this was terribly self centered of me, and the first thing I want to do is hug him, but I'm too small and he's too big.
Hesitantly I attempt to speak, and a combined look of relief, confusion, and fear washes over him. I know he can't hear the words I try to say, and if he can he can't comprehend them, but somehow he seems to understand. I've never believed that you could speak to someone telepathically, but so many strange things have happened that I'm surprised I didn't think of this; maybe it's a bug thing, though I hope not, because I wouldn't feel comfortable with a bug, or anyone hearing my thoughts in any other situation.
I tell him all that has happened, the truth about 'Mrs.' Fredley, and my plan to "appeal to her better nature." He doesn't really understand, but is willing to do just about anything to have me back, and have me human again, so he does what I ask. I tell the other bugs to just be patient, and they are. Ben retrieves the necessary supplies while I wait in the locker, and at lunch we head to Fredley's class.
I know that if she sees me she'll scream in her entomophobic way and send me straight back to Bug Island, so I hide in Ben's pocket. He is carrying a large bouquet of purple flowers, some new movie posters, balloons, and a few bags of Lay's potato chips. He sets these things on her desk and hands her a note. It reads:
Dear Queen Fredley,
Bug Island was an interesting place. Though I found it to be comfortable enough, I could not just sit and let my life go. I know that what I did was wrong, and I've learned my lesson. I've come here to sincerely apologize and to be transformed back into my old self. I know that you are angry with me, and very disappointed, but please consider this. I love my family, my friends, my boyfriend, my teachers, a life without them is hardly a life at all. All I ask of you is a second chance, opportunity to redeem myself, to try again. I won't let you down.

Sincerely ,
Kimberly Anne Case
Ladybug and Former student

I am now sitting on one of the desks, and by the look on her face as she reads the note, things don't seem to be going as planned. I close my eyes, expecting to be poofed back to the island any moment. She says something I can't make out and then something strange happens. I fear this must be an even more severe punishment, for escaping, but when I open my eyes, they fill with tears, for they are my normal eyes. I can't bring myself to stop crying tears of joy; I was never so relieved before in my life. Never again do I risk cheating, and sometimes mysterious bags of Lay's potato chips find their way onto Mrs. Fredley's desk.
Later that day, I get the bugs to perform Hamlet for the Queen, and she loves it so much, her fear of insects comes to an end. Bug Island is turned into an amusement park, where the bugs perform Hamlet, and other Shakespearean plays. It doesn't even matter that no one knows what they are saying, they are so spectacular that people just fall in love; besides, no one understands Shakespeare anyways.

I'm not heartless, I'm really not

Every lid for every marker sits on the desk,
an old sippy cup lays in the doorway,
If I go in I know I'll get a lego stuck in my foot.

He's been crying for awhile now,

I just can't take it anymore!



Ah, peace. The neighbors hear nothing when I listen to my stereo.

My first attempt at stream-of-consciousness

Everyone experiments in college, right?

***

Two Doors Down

walking down the road I think I see a shadow moving in the trees on my right but when I turn to look there’s nothing there only an empty clearing lit blue by the moon it’s so bright I can’t even look at my eyes must have adjusted to the there’s your house I must have walked down this street a thousand I can’t talk to you see you now the lights are off in the living room everyone must be in the family room in the back I hate the carpet in there it’s too rough it always leaves these itchy lines on the back of my legs your bedroom window we used to build Lego castles in there I loved to sit on your bed dinosaur sheets until you were seventeen you always loved dinosaurs they were all over your clothes your room I hated to go in there you had a hermit crab so ugly like a red wet spider walking on my leg we buried him near the swing set in a little white box we found in your bedroom the blue blinds all bent from the times you tried to sneak out of your window or stuck your head out when we used to play football on the lawn I remember when Jen tried to teach us ballet I felt so beautiful twirling on the grass wet under my bare feet I must have looked so silly but no one ever laughed at us laughing on the lawn I know you were inside and you could hear me trying to make my laugh sexy so you’d notice I almost choked I was thirteen only thirteen it was so long ago I’ve known you all my life but I still can’t talk to you I get so damn tongue-tied why I don’t know it’s not normal what if you don’t want to talk to me I don’t want you to feel obligated annoyed embarrassed pity I talk to boys you’re nothing special the light’s going to come on when I step onto the driveway I hate that thing it lights the whole neighborhood and anyone looking out their window could see me I want to stay in the dark for a while I never get to be by myself it’s so cool and quiet out here I can hear the crickets dogs cats walking down the street that’s what that shadow was Brandy followed me down the street again her fur so black she blends in I blend in the dark no one could see me unless they were looking I’m not hiding behind the house while we tried to break in Ann Marie’s arm was almost too big it got caught in the hole the removed deadbolt left in the door one of the little windows was broken it wasn’t really wrong we almost bought the house I just wanted to see I wanted to pick my room to stake my claim first I wanted to see my home there was dirt in the toilet we didn’t move there we didn’t like it was old we built a new house two doors down from yours I can see the bay window on your living room when I stand on my front step the TV used to be in the living room we used to watch movies make up dances to the songs we played court was our favorite game we always made Ann Marie be the dead body she was too young to be a lawyer she didn’t understand it wouldn’t have been fun she used to cry you always made her cry before you went to Colorado we were playing mafia after Christmas dinner you told us to gang up on her so we did but it went too long she was crying you blamed me she was crying in the bathroom you told her I was the one I was so mad at you she was mad at me for weeks after that she should have been mad at I was mad at you so mad I cried you are the only boy that ever saw me cry you made me so mad you always liked to make me mad and I never disappointed you called me gullible every day gullible you walked up to me after school I was doing algebra it was hard for me ‘cause I was sloppy my columns got mixed up you took my paper and ripped it in half I started screaming you were laughing and waving my paper in my face you only pretended to rip it everyone was laughing I never could stay mad at you and you knew it you smile and I can’t go down the driveway the light flickers on and I have to walk up to the door everyone is in there and they’re all smiling at you too many teeth I don’t like to show my teeth ‘cause one is out of place I have a photo of us the only photo I have of us graduation the party after in the gym my dad took the I look so gross but I’m smiling we’re smiling I want to cry I have to wait the teeth are waiting for me to join in to congratulate you to say I’m so happy for you for her I hate her I want her to die I want to die no I don’t but I don’t want to live soon I can cry knock on the door I’m the only one who knocks on your door everyone else rings the doorbell I guess you’ll always know when it’s me I hear the voices on the other side the door is open the light shines on me too bright I can’t see I wonder if my eyes are red they feel thick before I came there you are on the ugly carpet in the family room I laugh we hug my teeth hurt I have to I can’t I walk down the hall to the bathroom two doors down from your room

***

Nazi

They march in rows of a hundred or more
Steadily they walk
They match in all their uniforms
They match in how they talk
They care little about the cause
Of what they're killing for
All they care for is the cries,
"Please relent! NO MORE!"
They are all ruled by one man
Who hates you without reason
He hands them each a steady gun,
"Run lads, it's hunting season."
Carried away in boxcars
Trapped in disgusting cabs
They are shoved down in the dust
They're bodies painted in scabs
They weren't meant to be here
They were meant to live their lives
But they still get carried off
children, parents, wives
Everyone is terrified
By the speeches he has made
Everyone is lost at heart
No one will be saved
They work you 'til your thin as paper
watching with eyes of ice
They'll shove you into burning stoves
They'll treat you like you're lice
And yet they all survived somehow,
with a number on their arm.
It is a constant reminder
That one man can do harm

55 fiction

"Annie, I'm sorry." David cried to the gun pointed at his temple.
"It's too late for that," Annie sobbed, the rain pounding upon them.
"Annie..." The tears ran down his cheeks.
"Stop," she begged.
"Don't do anything you will regret." He pleaded.
"Trust me, I won't." And with that she pulled the smooth metal trigger.

Challenge #1: 55 Fiction

Okay, so I think we are almost all here, so I am going to giv you your first challenge.

55-Fiction

The point of 55 Fiction is to tell a complete story in 55 words or less. The point is to make every word count. it's hard. Like...swimming the english channel of writing exercises.

So, give it your best shot. All challenge submissions are due by October 10th, and anyone who doesn't participate will be mercilessly ragged upon. Here's some links to get you started:

Wikipedia: 55 Fiction
55 Fiction.org

This is the kind of random junk that pops into my head

So you got caught with your pants unbuttoned
and your shirt lying on the floor
Why do you cry when everything is fine?
Why don't you just close that door?
Come on wipe your eyes
let the tears dry
How are you gonna live
with your mind closed?
Baby take my hand
understand
that the real crime
isn't what he did to you but
what you're doing to yourself.
Do you want to be caught with your heart unbuttoned
while you're crying, lying on the floor
Is it yes, is it no, either way you must let go
You might as well close that door.

(Feels incomplete, but this all that came to mind)

(Your thoughts: "WTF?", that's what I said!)

Hey, FYI

If you'll notice in the sidebar, I've set this blog up to use tags, which is a tres easy way to index all our posts. This way if I want to just read all posted poems, or book reviews, or all of Kim's stuff or whatever, I just click the tag and it just shows me what I want. If you aren't sure how to use tags, or what to tag your stuff, don't worry, I will go back in and add them (but if you want to do it yourself, go for it).

Also, please feel free to make new tags, but be careful not to duplicate tags, e.g., making a "poems" tag when we already have a "poetry" tag, or whatever.

YAY! I'm so excited about this!

Little Brother.

The Evil Leauge of Evil read Cory Doctrow's book Little Brother, and this was a quote from it that really just... Affected me, I guess.

"They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after them as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"

I think that is beautiful.
And it's my first contribution to our literary magazine.
-Cass