30 JulToday I don’t feel like doing anything…

I just want to lay in my bed.

Original Photography

26 JulTop Ten from 56 Stories…

Back from a week of Speech Nationals, a month of Costa Rica and then a week at home where I was busy catching up with the life I missed and making money! I’ll *hopefully* blog about Costa Rica soon but onto the real reason for this post…

I’ve had a lot of friends offer to read some of my short stories for me. Once I mention that I have 56, all in a row, on my blog…their enthusiasm somewhat lessons. I don’t blame them, reading 56 stories that may be good or may be complete junk is hard. So I thought I’d make it easier by creating a “top ten” list. These are the stories that I, personally, like the most. I think they’re worth reading and critiquing and I’m fairly certain that you’ll enjoy at least half of them…

1) Lessons – A coming to age story

2) Breathe – What it means to be alive

3) Alien – the only “cute,” love story I had

4) Well Water – An introduction to witches…perhaps the quickest, easiest story I’ve ever written.

5) The Morgue – one of the oddest and yet most meaningful pieces of the bunch. It probably makes no sense to anyone else but I *think* it’s still pretty well written…

6) Circles – playing with the idea of time being a circle rather than a straight-line.

7) Practice - another story that was really easy to write. Unfortunately, I doubt it has any great meaning…

8) Inevitable - playing with the idea about what happens when you simply lose that instinctive, youthful love of life.

9) Heat – one of the oddest stories…I don’t think anyone’s understood the meaning yet.

10) War – playing with different ways of looking at war.

09 JunThe Best Advice I Can Offer…

When life seems tiring, overwhelming, exhausting, horrible, awful or any such negative emotion…take a shower. Life always seems a lot less bleak after you get a little water on your face.

06 JunSummer Book List

It is officially summer for me. I finished my last class (and assignments) last Friday and celebrated with a week full of crazy hanging out, lake house activites and partying over my brother’s graduation.

Then I thought, I need a summer reading list. I had a great class this year that “forced” me to read a lot of good classic books and while I’ll be gone for, at least, five weeks this summer…there’s still plenty of time to read some books.

So here’s the start to some of the books that I want to read over the summer: (an “x” means that I’ve read them in the past)

1) Of Mice and Men (x)

2) Bossy Pants - Tina Fey (read the description of this book on the link…made me laugh out loud)

3) Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

4) Still Alice

5) A Beautiful Mind

6) The Kite Runner (on the list while I was making the draft…now finished – absolutely fantastic, mind-blowing read)

7) The Color Purple

So what great books am I missing out on? This is a pathetically short list, people! I need to get cultured!

Yay or nay on the new background?

06 JunCountdowns…

You know that feeling when something’s going to happen and it seems so far in the future and all of a sudden, you remember that it’s actually in about an hour. I usually get this feeling with parties or dinner but now I’m getting it with my summer plans.

On Friday or Saturday, I will drive up to MA to visit relatives. On Tuesday, my National Speech competitions begin. (For which, I really need to practice and rewrite my speeches) Then, next Saturday I will fly out to go to Costa Rica. I’ll be there for an entire month. With a family who only speaks Spanish.

It’s going to be weird, but in a good way. I love being busy and I love stretching my comfort zone…but it just seems so soon!

Not to mention that it makes my summer extremely busy. The day after I come back, I start babysitting. I’ll babysit for two weeks and then I’ll take drivers ed for two weeks. Then babysit for another week and round it off by starting my NOVA classes on August 22. Wow, crazy…
But exciting. It’ll make this week kinda amazing too. :)

27 MayThis is your life/ Are you who you want to be?

“What are you going to do when you grow up?…I mean, when you grow up more?”
That small clarified sentence, spoken by my best friend’s younger sister, completely freaked me out.
The question, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” is common enough, especially now that I’m a junior in high school, but that always implied that I still have time to really “become a person.” Right now is just the experimental stage. The added caviet that I was already grown up blew my mind.
People always say that I’m mature for my age, but they also tend to assume that I’m younger than I actually am.
I live my life with the assumption that I’m still a kid. Despite what adults say when they compliment me on my maturity or intelligence, I know they still view me as a child.
Having someone, especially my best friend’s sibling, think of me as already reaching adulthood redefines how I view myself.
I remember when I was that young and I looked at older girls and considered them as a bases for what I would be. When an older girl was sweet and charming to everyone around her, I would think, “I want to be just like her!”
I was a silent watcher, observing and forming opinions on people I would never actually talk to. The idea that that “older girl” is now me is horrifying because I know that if anyone looks up to me, they’ll be sorely disappointed.
In the words of my best friend, on the phone today, “I’m growing up. I can’t help it.”
It’s pretty terrifying.
In the words of Switchfoot, “This is your life – are you who you want to be?”
There are no second chances, no “ready, set, go” announcements. What I have right now is the life that I will continue to live till I die. For better or worse, I am growing up. Now I’ve just got to make the most out of it.

25 MayLightswitch

The very last 56 stories…it feels weird to know that I’m completely finished.

Albert Einstein, undisputed modern day genius, could theorize on the possibilities of time travel, but couldn’t remember which house was his own. It was as if his intelligence was never spread out throughout his brain. His genius applied only to problem solving, not long-term memory. We considered a man who couldn’t remember his home to be one of the most intelligent people to ever live.

If someone’s genius applied not only to mathematics, but to every area of their life, the human body would be a spring board to accomplish anything possible. With perfect muscle memory, a human could compete at the Olympic level in any sport they wanted in only a matter of months. With perfect photographic memory, a person could become a walking dictionary after their first glance over the books. It all comes down to memory.

People complain that the reason they don’t accomplish anything in life is because they don’t have opportunities, the truth is, they don’t remember enough of the opportunities they had.

Say hello to me, CROXR 102, the first successful lab experiment for developing perfect memory capabilities. I’m totally human, except that my entire brain is finally turned on. I’m totally normal, except that I’m smarter that Einstein ever was. I also can remember where I live.

Unfortunately, perfect memory has its draw backs. When I hear a dog bark, I don’t think of just a few things, I think of everything that ever applied. That bark will remind me of every dog I’ve ever seen before and everything I’ve read about canines. Within a second over one hundred memories flood my mind. It’s overwhelming. It’s horrible. Maybe humans were created to forget after all. Maybe that’s the only way humanity can function. By the way, do you know where my house is?

24 MayThe Ghost

Despair hung in the air like the glass chandelier hung in the hallway. Both were permanent features in the cold, silent home where The Ghost lived. No one was sure if the being who lived in the house actually was a ghost or just a very odd human but no one had dared to enter the building for years. That feeling of despair was literally a part of the air. You breathed it in and it filled your lungs with panic. You could smell it when you stood outside the doorway and somehow, without being told, you knew that was the smell of despair.

All the neighborhood kids dared each other to run up to the door and ring the bell. The bell was broken and the bizarre clanging noise that it made only added to our fascination with the building. Occasionally, The Ghost would grace us with a bone-chilling moan that matched the smell of despair that filled our heads. When I was young, I considered the whole thing a giant prank, but the older I get the more those moans haunt me. They weren’t an act. They were the sound of a man in total agony.

I never found out who exactly The Ghost was. I went back to the house a few years ago but the door was wide open and the doorbell was broken. There was no one in the house. I thought there might be a body somewhere, but I couldn’t find anything. Maybe it had been a ghost after all.

The smell of despair that I remembered so distinctly as a child had faded with time. All I could smell now was rotting wood and stale air. Sometimes, I wonder how many of those memories were real, and how many I simply created myself.

23 MaySilence

Maranka beat savagely at the carpets that hung on the clothes line. Dust poured out of the offending threads and clouded around her head. It was a full ten minutes before she stopped and looked at her handiwork. A clean, ruffled rug hung on the line, its former contents now firmly lodged on Maranka’s face and in her hair.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” said Kanimar sarcastically as he walked past her on his way to the stables. He was a groom. Maranka followed him with her eyes, but besides his off-hand comment he didn’t acknowledge her existence. Most people didn’t. Being a mute somehow made people think that she was less intelligent than them. That her birth defect not only affected her vocal chords but her brain. Nothing could be further from the truth, but, being born a slave, Maranka wouldn’t have an opportunity to prove anyone wrong.

Not being able to talk had its advantages. No matter how hard she wanted to, she could never talk back against an unfair order or complain when she was exhausted. Body language only got her so far, especially because eye contact was necessary.

Maranka couldn’t even make the guttural grunts she heard other mute’s communicate in. She was not only incapable of speech, but incapable of sound.

She was excluded from normal society. She already would have been, being a slave, but even the slaves rejected her as different because of her abnormality. She could only express her rage in beating the carpets she was commanded to clean. After five faded, shredding carpets, Maranka could tell that beating carpets wouldn’t work for the rest of her life.

She didn’t fit in with anyone. Nobody was sure what to do with her and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

22 MayReplacement

three more stories after this one…wow, this is close!

“Come on!” Blake yelled as he ran across the field. “I’m wide open!”

He sighed with frustration as the football soared over his head and landed straight in the arms of the huge quarterback on the other team. Blake immediately tackled the man down, but the ball was now lost to his team.

Blake’s head hurt. In fact, his whole body hurt. Football was his life, why did nobody else on the team even seem to care?

They lost by a landslide a few hours later. Blake wanted to strangle his teammates but he had no energy left. He had given everything he had out on the field and he couldn’t bring himself to even lift a finger now.

“How was the game?” asked his dad when he got home.

“Horrible,” said Blake bluntly, “None of the other guys even practice.”

“Sorry,” said his dad unhelpfully.

“Yeah, me too,” said Blake, annoyed at the response, “How the heck can I do well at a team sport when my team sucks?”

“Why do you think your team sucks?”

“What are you? A psychiatrist?” Blake asked sarcastically, instantly regretting the words. He added, “I already told you…they don’t practice.”

“Why don’t they practice?”

Blake sighed. Hello, Dr. Phil, he thought.
“They don’t care if they win or lose.”

“And why don’t they care?”

“Because coach doesn’t care,” said Blake. His comment wasn’t false. Their football coach cared as much about football as Blake cared about clothes shopping.

“Well,” said his dad quietly, “If coach isn’t doing his job…what can you do?”

“Nothing!” yelled Blake in frustration, “That’s exactly my point!”

“You know, a sick, poor man from another country once said that you have to be the change that you want to see.”

“That’s Gandhi, dad.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “but he’s right.”



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