muse:
the long, bamboo bookmark flashes through the air as i swivel it between my fingers, up and down. the old blue ribbon wrapped around the stick is slowly unraveling, its fibers sticking out at awkward angles with an uncannily high number of independent threads. the name of a country is painted onto the wood, the memory of a journey imbued in the foreign wood. i drop the bookmark back into the crease of the book i'm reading and let the nostalgic bamboo stick take me back into its past, its story. the lights around me continue to glow softly as i let myself slip into a deep slumber, punctuated by the glimpses of a life past.
Showing posts with label short. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short. Show all posts
1.12.2011
1.10.2011
recess is over. it was hard work.
that's right, y'all heard correctly. "the longest recess," my official first short story, is completed.
10.07.2010
abp#5: third wheel.
a/n: not sure where this is going to go, but here it goes.
make friends with everyone; keep your feelings hidden 'cuz nobody wants to know; keep a smile perpetually on your face; walk ten feet behind couples; don't ever tell anyone what you're feeling; smile even when i'm not happy?; don't be a cock block; don't tell your best friend that you don't like her boyfriend; don't tell your friend that the real reason why you don't hang out anymore is because of her douche-y boyfriend; what's a cock block?; don't take anything seriously; actually take things seriously but look like you don't; smile at people you like; smile at people you don't like; smile at people you love so much you could cry; smile at people you hate so much you could die; make funny jokes at your own expense; try to never get involved in any drama; get sucked in anyway and find out you like people involved; go home and cry; do i really have to smile at people i hate?; don't ever say how you're feeling 'cuz nobody cares; walk slowly enough that the couples are always at least twenty feet ahead; walk quickly enough so that the one you like who is dating that person you don't like is always at least a hundred feet behind; cry quietly and only at night when no one's around; sing love songs like there's no tomorrow; sing heartbroken songs like there's no today; write sappy poetry about the one you love like there's no yesterday; and when you screw up, blame your sleep schedule.
k, i'd like some feedback, so if everyone who reads could please comment that would be All Sorts of Fabulous.
make friends with everyone; keep your feelings hidden 'cuz nobody wants to know; keep a smile perpetually on your face; walk ten feet behind couples; don't ever tell anyone what you're feeling; smile even when i'm not happy?; don't be a cock block; don't tell your best friend that you don't like her boyfriend; don't tell your friend that the real reason why you don't hang out anymore is because of her douche-y boyfriend; what's a cock block?; don't take anything seriously; actually take things seriously but look like you don't; smile at people you like; smile at people you don't like; smile at people you love so much you could cry; smile at people you hate so much you could die; make funny jokes at your own expense; try to never get involved in any drama; get sucked in anyway and find out you like people involved; go home and cry; do i really have to smile at people i hate?; don't ever say how you're feeling 'cuz nobody cares; walk slowly enough that the couples are always at least twenty feet ahead; walk quickly enough so that the one you like who is dating that person you don't like is always at least a hundred feet behind; cry quietly and only at night when no one's around; sing love songs like there's no tomorrow; sing heartbroken songs like there's no today; write sappy poetry about the one you love like there's no yesterday; and when you screw up, blame your sleep schedule.
k, i'd like some feedback, so if everyone who reads could please comment that would be All Sorts of Fabulous.
10.05.2010
life at the edge of makeout meadow
big john bosh sighs, slumping into his familiar, creaky old wooden rocking chair. he eyes his new surroundings—a lush meadow filled with many birds. a perfect place for him to live. the retired soldier sighs again, breathing in the fresh, verdant air.
sure, he thinks, this isn’t as great as the backwoods of alabama
a flock of birds rises noisily from the field, stirring big john back into reality from his slight snooze. he sees a couple of high schoolers doing god-knows-what among the flowers. maybe the birds and the bees finally learned to coexist here, he muses, a small disgusted smirk sneaking onto his face. the old man picks himself up out of his chair with obvious effort, tromps down the stairs, and wades through the calf-high grass. his footsteps barely make a sound as he reaches the teenage couple.
"hello?” he calls quietly.
the two students stop in their snogging, blushing a bright crimson.
“huh-huh-hi, sir,” the boy manages to stutter.
“you can call me big john,” the old soldier says, smiling with his entire face.
“hi, big john!” the girl chirps.
big john’s breath catches in his throat—her voice sounds exactly like his old wife’s.
“leave this field,” he orders sternly. “and never come back.”
the two stand up abruptly and run, their feet rustling in the grass. big john stares after them before plodding back to his small cabin through the ocean of unexotic fauna.
9.28.2010
muse:breathe
wow, this is the first muse in a while. oops? inspired by breathe by taylor swift.
muse:
i really never intended to ever break up with him. ever. so naturally it shocked both of us when saturday found us standing in the rain saying our tearful goodbyes.
i don't even remember what i was thinking. i just remember what we did. that's about all i can remember. i recall stepping into his arms, and we just stood there for a while and we were both crying. we couldn't really tell though because there was just too much rain, but we were. in retrospect, it's kinda ironic that we ended this way--it's full circle. we had gotten together during a dance in the rain, now we break up in the rain.
but here we are.
i'm standing in my jeans, getting totally soaking wet and i'm trying not to look him entirely in the eyes. he's doing the same. instinctively i reach for his hand, and because we've just been together so long he doesn't pull away. i want things to stay like this forever. when we finally separate, i find that i can't breathe. the air is caught in my throat. the rain is coursing down my face in rivers, but i can't really tell if it's rain or tears. as i walk back into his arms, i rest my forehead on his shoulder. i can breathe again. he murmurs my name, and i whisper his, and we step apart again. and my breath is gone again. i can tell it's almost the same for him. his face is contorted into a tortured mask. but we have to leave. we have to walk away from each other. i mouth a goodbye and start to walk away.
each step gets harder and harder. my black canvas shoes are getting my socks just soaking. stepping in puddles isn't really helping the situation either. there's no inviting glow off the pavement tonight, just dull throbbing darkness. i turn around, and see him walking slowly towards his car. i nearly say his name, but catch myself.
i've gotta learn how to breathe on my own.
my hair is really wet. it feels like i'm in the coldest shower ever, but i'm getting nowhere near clean. the rhythm of the rain splashing on the pavement is almost muttering, turn around, go back, you're right for each other.
but we aren't, i almost answer. almost. 'cuz i still can't breathe without him. facing my car is now the hardest thing i've ever done. with each step i take, living gets gradually harder. but once i swing the door of my car open and sit down on the comfortable chair, breathing gets slightly easier. maybe i'll get through this. i slam the door shut, start the car, and turn on the windshield wipers. and then i get a glimpse of him, and air is just all gone. i close my eyes, rubbing them.
i've gotta learn how to breathe on my own.
i open my eyes, grasp the firm steering wheel, and pull onto the street. he's in his car and driving away too. as we pass each other, we both drive extremely slowly, not wanting to move forward and away from this moment. but surprisingly, it's me that accelerates away first.
i've gotta learn how to breathe on my own.
muse:
i really never intended to ever break up with him. ever. so naturally it shocked both of us when saturday found us standing in the rain saying our tearful goodbyes.
i don't even remember what i was thinking. i just remember what we did. that's about all i can remember. i recall stepping into his arms, and we just stood there for a while and we were both crying. we couldn't really tell though because there was just too much rain, but we were. in retrospect, it's kinda ironic that we ended this way--it's full circle. we had gotten together during a dance in the rain, now we break up in the rain.
but here we are.
i'm standing in my jeans, getting totally soaking wet and i'm trying not to look him entirely in the eyes. he's doing the same. instinctively i reach for his hand, and because we've just been together so long he doesn't pull away. i want things to stay like this forever. when we finally separate, i find that i can't breathe. the air is caught in my throat. the rain is coursing down my face in rivers, but i can't really tell if it's rain or tears. as i walk back into his arms, i rest my forehead on his shoulder. i can breathe again. he murmurs my name, and i whisper his, and we step apart again. and my breath is gone again. i can tell it's almost the same for him. his face is contorted into a tortured mask. but we have to leave. we have to walk away from each other. i mouth a goodbye and start to walk away.
each step gets harder and harder. my black canvas shoes are getting my socks just soaking. stepping in puddles isn't really helping the situation either. there's no inviting glow off the pavement tonight, just dull throbbing darkness. i turn around, and see him walking slowly towards his car. i nearly say his name, but catch myself.
i've gotta learn how to breathe on my own.
my hair is really wet. it feels like i'm in the coldest shower ever, but i'm getting nowhere near clean. the rhythm of the rain splashing on the pavement is almost muttering, turn around, go back, you're right for each other.
but we aren't, i almost answer. almost. 'cuz i still can't breathe without him. facing my car is now the hardest thing i've ever done. with each step i take, living gets gradually harder. but once i swing the door of my car open and sit down on the comfortable chair, breathing gets slightly easier. maybe i'll get through this. i slam the door shut, start the car, and turn on the windshield wipers. and then i get a glimpse of him, and air is just all gone. i close my eyes, rubbing them.
i've gotta learn how to breathe on my own.
i open my eyes, grasp the firm steering wheel, and pull onto the street. he's in his car and driving away too. as we pass each other, we both drive extremely slowly, not wanting to move forward and away from this moment. but surprisingly, it's me that accelerates away first.
i've gotta learn how to breathe on my own.
9.26.2010
pss (postsecret story): when i make clothes for my mom, i hide secret messages in the seams.
this is because someone said on their blog that it would be fun to make stories from postsecret. so, for that person, here is my attempt.
pss:
linda was just an ordinary seamstress at an ordinary textile factory. her short brown hair was always up in a neat little bun, tucked under the hairnet that protocol ordered each worker wear. her big blue eyes had long since dulled. the only time that they really got their liveliness back was when she was making clothing. and not just any clothing, but clothing for her mother. this didn't happen often. it was only when linda was the last of the workers left in the factory for the day.the floor supervisor always left at around 3, and the women all left shortly after. if anyone walked by linda's floor, they would have just seen a single, small stout lady working diligently on a small piece of clothing.
that particular monday, linda was working on a blouse for her mother. the ladies had all left, and linda's eyes were excitedly lit up. she pulled a length of lime green cloth from the roll, humming as the fabric extended itself over her work station. eyeing the material, she drums her left hand on the table. bopbopbopbopCLANK. bopbopbopbopCLANK. the thimble voices its protest loudly as her thumb meets the table. tossing the fabric away, she rotates the cloth rack. the huge machine rumbles, turning and groaning as if trying to resist being awoken from its hour-long nap. linda quietly stops the machine, selecting a roll of lime green material. it's almost the same as the other material she had before, but this one is just perfect. she smiles and giggles, using her petite scissors to snip some material off the roll. the seamstress starts whistling now, quickly piecing together the cloth into the familiar shape of a blouse. she's so happy that she even adds some ruffles in the front. but before she sews the parts together, she takes a small piece of felt and attaches it to where the seam places itself. in her small, slanty seamstress handwriting, she writes several messages, one for each seam.
hi mom, it's linda!
the bodice goes together as the sewing machines whirs.
i really hope you like this blouse--i made it when thinking of you today at work.
the right sleeve is on now.
the ruffle is something special. i know that you love to wear clothing with ruffles, so... i know you'll like it.
the left sleeve attaches itself.
i hope that we can talk eventually...
the fancy side-to-side ruffles are on now. the sewing machine is making the squeaking sound it does when it's right about to shut off. linda wipes her brow, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. she squints her eyes, writes a final message, and packs the blouse into a box.
i miss you. love you. -linda
as she walks out the doorway, the lights shut themselves off. her footsteps echo in the empty hallway. she pushes the huge metal door open, cringing as she hears the loud metallic screech. she places the box tenderly into the passenger seat of her car before buckling herself in. turning the key, she starts the car, switches into reverse, and pulls out of the parking lot.
pss:
linda was just an ordinary seamstress at an ordinary textile factory. her short brown hair was always up in a neat little bun, tucked under the hairnet that protocol ordered each worker wear. her big blue eyes had long since dulled. the only time that they really got their liveliness back was when she was making clothing. and not just any clothing, but clothing for her mother. this didn't happen often. it was only when linda was the last of the workers left in the factory for the day.the floor supervisor always left at around 3, and the women all left shortly after. if anyone walked by linda's floor, they would have just seen a single, small stout lady working diligently on a small piece of clothing.
that particular monday, linda was working on a blouse for her mother. the ladies had all left, and linda's eyes were excitedly lit up. she pulled a length of lime green cloth from the roll, humming as the fabric extended itself over her work station. eyeing the material, she drums her left hand on the table. bopbopbopbopCLANK. bopbopbopbopCLANK. the thimble voices its protest loudly as her thumb meets the table. tossing the fabric away, she rotates the cloth rack. the huge machine rumbles, turning and groaning as if trying to resist being awoken from its hour-long nap. linda quietly stops the machine, selecting a roll of lime green material. it's almost the same as the other material she had before, but this one is just perfect. she smiles and giggles, using her petite scissors to snip some material off the roll. the seamstress starts whistling now, quickly piecing together the cloth into the familiar shape of a blouse. she's so happy that she even adds some ruffles in the front. but before she sews the parts together, she takes a small piece of felt and attaches it to where the seam places itself. in her small, slanty seamstress handwriting, she writes several messages, one for each seam.
hi mom, it's linda!
the bodice goes together as the sewing machines whirs.
i really hope you like this blouse--i made it when thinking of you today at work.
the right sleeve is on now.
the ruffle is something special. i know that you love to wear clothing with ruffles, so... i know you'll like it.
the left sleeve attaches itself.
i hope that we can talk eventually...
the fancy side-to-side ruffles are on now. the sewing machine is making the squeaking sound it does when it's right about to shut off. linda wipes her brow, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. she squints her eyes, writes a final message, and packs the blouse into a box.
i miss you. love you. -linda
as she walks out the doorway, the lights shut themselves off. her footsteps echo in the empty hallway. she pushes the huge metal door open, cringing as she hears the loud metallic screech. she places the box tenderly into the passenger seat of her car before buckling herself in. turning the key, she starts the car, switches into reverse, and pulls out of the parking lot.
9.23.2010
muse:return
inspired by the ending of the bones premiere. who knew such a graphic crime drama could be so sappy? slash emotional slash whatever.
muse:
people stream into the doors, many celebrating the return for their final year. i'm one of the few, seeing my graduating class year scrawled in paint on the softball cage. a small smile graces my lips. the instant i walk into my first classroom, i'm overcome by a wave of happiness. the phrase "i'm so glad to see you" just becomes my mantra for the morning.
at the end of the day, everyone heads for home.
everyone except you and me. the hallways are silent, the lights are beginning to turn off. the janitors sweep the lonely hallways clearing them of trash. i, of course, have to wait until later to return home. for some reason you're with me too. and you're right about to leave when i call you out.
"yes?"
i'm quiet, my face is burning, my heart is pounding. i stutter in a small voice how much i've missed you. how much i want to go back to the way things were before.
"yes?"
and it's then that i realize that i haven't said anything. i turn away and mouth a soft "goodbye," watching you slip out of the building. the lights go out.
muse:
people stream into the doors, many celebrating the return for their final year. i'm one of the few, seeing my graduating class year scrawled in paint on the softball cage. a small smile graces my lips. the instant i walk into my first classroom, i'm overcome by a wave of happiness. the phrase "i'm so glad to see you" just becomes my mantra for the morning.
at the end of the day, everyone heads for home.
everyone except you and me. the hallways are silent, the lights are beginning to turn off. the janitors sweep the lonely hallways clearing them of trash. i, of course, have to wait until later to return home. for some reason you're with me too. and you're right about to leave when i call you out.
"yes?"
i'm quiet, my face is burning, my heart is pounding. i stutter in a small voice how much i've missed you. how much i want to go back to the way things were before.
"yes?"
and it's then that i realize that i haven't said anything. i turn away and mouth a soft "goodbye," watching you slip out of the building. the lights go out.
9.15.2010
muse:gravity
oh, life. ): inspired by gravity by sara bareilles.
muse:
you've been on my mind for awhile now.
you've been there since the beginning of last year. with your serious demeanor and childish heart, just making-or-breaking my day, depending on how much you pay attention to me. i never really expected to be distanced so far, though. i've been burned enough--so why do i keep coming back so close?
please, let me go. let go of me (though you hold me with nothing, no words, no chains, nothing), let my heart free. but maybe, maybe that's what you're telling me without any words, without anything. just that stoic, silent face. maybe that's what you're saying.
but how can i? i've dug myself so deep into this hole--and your name is written on the walls. i can't bear to think of life without you--even though you refuse to be a part of mine. i sit down here, and i call your name. i think you hear, but you never respond. maybe that's you saying, "leave me be. i love you enough to let you find someone better. please, please."
but i can't ever find my way out--i've fallen in headfirst. so i'm lying here, dazed, heartbroken, and just missing you. and, as if you can sense that i'm trying to get your attention like a little kid, you ignore me. it crushes me, and you refuse to hear my cries. but to me, you're neither friend nor foe--i just can't seem to let you go. you've been the only thing on my mind--you push away everything else. you write your name, claim your space--yes, the entire space--and walk right out. you leave me quiet, broken, and seeking you--your gravity is just too strong.
muse:
you've been on my mind for awhile now.
you've been there since the beginning of last year. with your serious demeanor and childish heart, just making-or-breaking my day, depending on how much you pay attention to me. i never really expected to be distanced so far, though. i've been burned enough--so why do i keep coming back so close?
please, let me go. let go of me (though you hold me with nothing, no words, no chains, nothing), let my heart free. but maybe, maybe that's what you're telling me without any words, without anything. just that stoic, silent face. maybe that's what you're saying.
but how can i? i've dug myself so deep into this hole--and your name is written on the walls. i can't bear to think of life without you--even though you refuse to be a part of mine. i sit down here, and i call your name. i think you hear, but you never respond. maybe that's you saying, "leave me be. i love you enough to let you find someone better. please, please."
but i can't ever find my way out--i've fallen in headfirst. so i'm lying here, dazed, heartbroken, and just missing you. and, as if you can sense that i'm trying to get your attention like a little kid, you ignore me. it crushes me, and you refuse to hear my cries. but to me, you're neither friend nor foe--i just can't seem to let you go. you've been the only thing on my mind--you push away everything else. you write your name, claim your space--yes, the entire space--and walk right out. you leave me quiet, broken, and seeking you--your gravity is just too strong.
9.14.2010
reflections on jealous husband the parrot, and muse:fallen
so. this is also another one of my favorite stories that we've read so far! mainly because i could imagine the bird doing all of these things, and it brings back bittersweet memories.
butler did an amazing job of putting things into the bird's point of view--and now it makes me want to write a story from the point of view of a pet. it'd be really interesting to do, as well as just plain fun.
favorite lines:
butler did an amazing job of putting things into the bird's point of view--and now it makes me want to write a story from the point of view of a pet. it'd be really interesting to do, as well as just plain fun.
favorite lines:
- "i flap my wings and i squawk and i fluff up and i slick down and i throw seed and i attack that dangly toy as if it was the guy's balls, but it does no good." (i can just picture a parrot doing this. and while we would think that the parrot was only restless and wanting to play, this gives insight on what might've been going on in the animal's mind. it's quite funny, actually. the throwing seed part made me laugh because i remember one time we tried to feed my bird lettuce. he kicked it.)
- "even though i know there is something between me and that place where i can be free of all these feelings, i will fly. i will throw myself again and again there. pretty bird. bad bird. good night." (this was my favorite but not in like a happy way or anything! it just made me heartbroken that the narrator could do nothing really to express his love for his wife. additionally, i can relate to this because sometimes life just hurts too much and i just want things to just go away so i can live in peace. or die in peace. whichever one, really.)
muse:
he had decided that morning that everything he did would be to impress her, the girl of his dreams. he could explain math problems to her, share insight in english class, the list went on and on. and last of all, before she left, she would see him getting into his car and drive away like the cool, mature person that he was.
he didn't expect it to all backfire. the insight-she had seen it already. she didn't even pay attention when he opened his mouth, letting loose the new knowledge that he thought was so revolutionary. but it didn't stop there. math problems-he couldn't even begin to explain them. he knew the concept, but he didn't really know it. so when questions arose for her, all he could do was blink in frustration at feeling so helpless. after school had brought about even more failures-he couldn't even catch her eye, summon the courage to talk, walk the same direction as her, look in her direction without feeling failure. and as he swung the car door shut in the parking lot, he didn't see her waiting on the sidewalk as she usually did. he slumped in his seat. his hopes were dashed, he was crestfallen. but tomorrow was another day, another try, another time to just build up that courage to talk to her. just to fix things up.
9.13.2010
brownies, cookies, and muse:tgif
so.
i must say that this story has been my favorite so far. in a few words: they're ridiculous little kids, allowed to pass the harshest of judgments while suffering almost nothing. i think that was probably one of the points that drew me in to this story. it was the story of the stereotypical gang of girls. there were the leaders (arnetta and octavia), the reject (janice), the quiet one (daphne), the goodie-two-shoes (laurel, or snot). it was just so hilarious to read this story and just picture this group of small, rowdy girls thinking i'm gonna beat them up! and it just made me laugh a bunch.
favorite lines:
i must say that this story has been my favorite so far. in a few words: they're ridiculous little kids, allowed to pass the harshest of judgments while suffering almost nothing. i think that was probably one of the points that drew me in to this story. it was the story of the stereotypical gang of girls. there were the leaders (arnetta and octavia), the reject (janice), the quiet one (daphne), the goodie-two-shoes (laurel, or snot). it was just so hilarious to read this story and just picture this group of small, rowdy girls thinking i'm gonna beat them up! and it just made me laugh a bunch.
favorite lines:
- "...looking all around them like tourists determined to be dazzled." ("dazzle" is just a hilarious word to me simply because stephmeyer has made it so.)
- "...and often these belts would become nature lessons in and of themselves. 'see... this one's made entirely from the feathers of baby pigeons.'" (great only because i thought she was trying to be hippie-like... but then realized that she wasn't. what kind of hippie would wear a belt made of baby pigeons?!)
- "...all we ever do with Nature is find some twigs and say something like, 'wow, this fell from a tree.'" (this just sounds so little kid! i love it! i can also just picture her saying this. i'm pretty sure i'd be that snarky.)
- "...and octavia would hotly whisper, 'mama,' in a way that meant: please don't talk about our problems in front of everyone please shut up." (why are they so snarky? why do i love them so much?!)
- "...but everyone except me hated the song so much that they sang it like a maudlin record..." (don't even know what a maudlin record is, but knowing how kids can sing unenthusiastically, this is just hilarious.)
- "'i'll brush my teeth two times if i don't have to sing 'the doughnut-'" (it just shows how much they don't want to sing it! oh little kids. you are so hilarious, snarky, and just overall hilarious. why can't you be like that in real life.)
and now a muse. :) inspired by last friday night (tgif) by katy perry. don't worry, it's not trashy. really.
muse:
it had been the wildest party in the history of wild parties. they had pulled up, loud and rowdy in front of a friend's house, ready for loud music, dancing, all sorts of teenage happenings. they weren't disappointed. some flailed their arms wildly, others danced like their lives depended on it. the world was them, and nothing but them. moving as a collective group, they had danced their hearts out into the early hours of the morning. then, they had run to the park just to relish the freedom of the open air, the softness of the grass beneath their feet, the silvery touch of the moonlight, the splash of water. and as the frenzy faded, they found themselves laying beneath the stars, watching as an occasional cloud would block out the beautiful mess of sparkling sugar sprinkled all across the heavens. it was friday, the end of the week, the end of another day, the start of the weekend, the start of something new. homework was a distant obstacle to be faced sunday night. it was friday, it was friends, it was. tgif.
9.12.2010
muse:not like the movies
based off of katy perry's song, "not like the movies" from teenage dream. listen to it while you read if you'd like? for extra angst power, here we go!
muse:
that night had been amazing, beautiful, perfect, romantic, and all other sorts of adjectives with good connotations. she had never been expecting that dance--the dance with her crush, to her favorite song, relatively alone on the marble dance floor. their footsteps had echoed silently throughout the hall as the song had unfolded. he had been a bit awkward at first, just offering a hand and asking hesitantly, "can i have this dance?"
she had fallen so hard. for him.
she remembers her cheeks coloring, biting her lip nervously, raising her hand slowly with her mind racing to catch up with her body, speeding at zillions of miles an hour just to get to that moment: "yes." and in the world created by the feminine voice along with the chiming of piano chords and a rather chivalrous saxophone, they had danced. it felt like more than four minutes, of course. they had started off far apart, her feet moving slowly with trepidation following his even more unsure footsteps. gradually though, the heat radiating from his body drew her in like a magnet, and she took her hands from his and looped them around his neck, bringing both of them close. his strong arms had encircled her hips, and his head rested on hers. it was all the best moments she'd had so far all rolled into one instant--her first concert, her first birthday party, her first, her first, her first. her first. that's what this was. and it was worthy of a blue ribbon, gold medal, trophy cup, all the stars in the sky.
but that was then.
in the weeks afterwards, he didn't even acknowledge her presence. they passed in the hallways and eventually the pain of looking at him drove her to find different paths. she drowned herself in music, trying to recreate that moment with the perfect song, the perfect voice, the perfect blend of everything. and then he had walked out of her life. broken her heart. just one look, and she knew that it wouldn't be like the movies. she wouldn't walk into his arms, the world wouldn't stop spinning, and the camera wouldn't slowly pan up to the stars.
she had cried. for hours, for what seemed like unspeakable periods of time. people had come in and out of her life, offering support, offering to replace what she had lost. but she had just cried, drowning everyone else in the flood of her tears.somehow, though, she picked up her broken pieces and moved on. but he still had that piece of her heart, he had taken it, she had willingly parted with it, and the pang had never really gone away.
a year later found her staring at the photos of that wonderful night, trying to remember everything she had felt and put in on paper for him. because even though it's not like the movies, we can still try to make things work. i've heard third time's the charm... please, i love you, i love you, i love you.
muse:
that night had been amazing, beautiful, perfect, romantic, and all other sorts of adjectives with good connotations. she had never been expecting that dance--the dance with her crush, to her favorite song, relatively alone on the marble dance floor. their footsteps had echoed silently throughout the hall as the song had unfolded. he had been a bit awkward at first, just offering a hand and asking hesitantly, "can i have this dance?"
she had fallen so hard. for him.
she remembers her cheeks coloring, biting her lip nervously, raising her hand slowly with her mind racing to catch up with her body, speeding at zillions of miles an hour just to get to that moment: "yes." and in the world created by the feminine voice along with the chiming of piano chords and a rather chivalrous saxophone, they had danced. it felt like more than four minutes, of course. they had started off far apart, her feet moving slowly with trepidation following his even more unsure footsteps. gradually though, the heat radiating from his body drew her in like a magnet, and she took her hands from his and looped them around his neck, bringing both of them close. his strong arms had encircled her hips, and his head rested on hers. it was all the best moments she'd had so far all rolled into one instant--her first concert, her first birthday party, her first, her first, her first. her first. that's what this was. and it was worthy of a blue ribbon, gold medal, trophy cup, all the stars in the sky.
but that was then.
in the weeks afterwards, he didn't even acknowledge her presence. they passed in the hallways and eventually the pain of looking at him drove her to find different paths. she drowned herself in music, trying to recreate that moment with the perfect song, the perfect voice, the perfect blend of everything. and then he had walked out of her life. broken her heart. just one look, and she knew that it wouldn't be like the movies. she wouldn't walk into his arms, the world wouldn't stop spinning, and the camera wouldn't slowly pan up to the stars.
she had cried. for hours, for what seemed like unspeakable periods of time. people had come in and out of her life, offering support, offering to replace what she had lost. but she had just cried, drowning everyone else in the flood of her tears.somehow, though, she picked up her broken pieces and moved on. but he still had that piece of her heart, he had taken it, she had willingly parted with it, and the pang had never really gone away.
a year later found her staring at the photos of that wonderful night, trying to remember everything she had felt and put in on paper for him. because even though it's not like the movies, we can still try to make things work. i've heard third time's the charm... please, i love you, i love you, i love you.
9.09.2010
muse:invisible
so, thanks to my counselor (who is right now very very incompetent because she can't even remember who she is supposed to e-mail), i am feeling quite horrid right now. thanks, world. have this back.
muse:
would it be too much to notice?
the crowd bustles around him and people bump into him as if he doesn't exist. they look up, startled to have run into nothing, apologize brusquely, and continue on their way. some people take notice of him, pick him out of the sea of people, and walk with him for a while. but in the end, it's the same result. he's always gradually forced back in, unable to seen once again. sometimes, he thinks he's visible to authority figures. he does his best to stand out and shine, but it seems all in vain. futile. their vision all pass over him, their gaze fixated on others who outperform and outshine his small light. some who he thought would help make him seen abandon him by the side of the road, cold and dark. he calls after them, pleading and begging.
would it be too much to notice me? would it be too much to help me be seen? would it be too much? where are you going? why are you leaving me?
muse:
would it be too much to notice?
the crowd bustles around him and people bump into him as if he doesn't exist. they look up, startled to have run into nothing, apologize brusquely, and continue on their way. some people take notice of him, pick him out of the sea of people, and walk with him for a while. but in the end, it's the same result. he's always gradually forced back in, unable to seen once again. sometimes, he thinks he's visible to authority figures. he does his best to stand out and shine, but it seems all in vain. futile. their vision all pass over him, their gaze fixated on others who outperform and outshine his small light. some who he thought would help make him seen abandon him by the side of the road, cold and dark. he calls after them, pleading and begging.
would it be too much to notice me? would it be too much to help me be seen? would it be too much? where are you going? why are you leaving me?
9.06.2010
muse:collateral
just a muse today.
muse:
the fact that he knew so many people was his downfall. when they were attracted to each other or there was a fight, he was always in the middle. he could never stand up for himself, assert that he was not part of the problem and step out of the way. he hated being in the middle of the conflicts, but there was no real way out. he was collateral damage every time. words flew like bullets, and he would take every single one. and when the dust settled and peace was finally made, he rose from the ashes to perform his duty yet again. he dreaded the next fight, but he knew that ultimately if his role as collateral benefited others, than it was something he had to continue. so regardless of the many times he fell, regardless of how much he never wanted to get up again, he stood. it was for the others, he kept telling himself. all for them, and the sake of their love.
muse:
the fact that he knew so many people was his downfall. when they were attracted to each other or there was a fight, he was always in the middle. he could never stand up for himself, assert that he was not part of the problem and step out of the way. he hated being in the middle of the conflicts, but there was no real way out. he was collateral damage every time. words flew like bullets, and he would take every single one. and when the dust settled and peace was finally made, he rose from the ashes to perform his duty yet again. he dreaded the next fight, but he knew that ultimately if his role as collateral benefited others, than it was something he had to continue. so regardless of the many times he fell, regardless of how much he never wanted to get up again, he stood. it was for the others, he kept telling himself. all for them, and the sake of their love.
9.03.2010
a&p... how 'bout b&r? and muse:already gone
just finished reading a&p.
this was another thing like hemingway's, making a story out of the mundane. however, updike's story seemed to flow a little bit better to me. the descriptions were very vivid, so the scene unfolded rather smoothly in my mind. going back to our discussion yesterday on who exactly were the characters, it seems that sammy (the narrator), stokesie, lengel, "queenie," and the girls. i consider "big tall goony-goony" (best impromptu name ever) a character even though she didn't talk, as she was part of queenie's group. the girls seemed to not be as much separate characters as much as queenie's minions, so they were very minor characters.
additionally. i shall never view vanilla ice cream the same ever again.
muse:
she had wanted to be with him for the longest time. he was her crush, after all. being a hormonal teenager, the world revolved around him and all he did. she would get flutters in her chest every time he looked at her, smiled that crooked smile and mumbled a shy "hi." every time she hung up after a phone call with him, she would fall into a blissful reverie. so when they finally came together, she thought she would be happy.
she was so wrong.
two days in, and their first fight. it was over something trivial and stupid, but it still broke her heart. that night, there was no phone call, no dreaming, just emptiness. the next day, though, they continued on as if it never happened. from then on, that was how they existed. teasing until tears, lather, rinse, and repeat.
even after their first kiss, the cycle continued. but she was already so deep, she didn't want to get out. so when he finally decided to end things then and there, she refused.
"no," she had argued. "we can make it through. we love each other, we can make it!"
he only shook his head before turning around.
"i love you so much. i love you so much that i want what's best for you. and what's best for you is life without me in it."
and as his footsteps echoed through the empty school hallway, she knew that as he left, so did her heart.
this was another thing like hemingway's, making a story out of the mundane. however, updike's story seemed to flow a little bit better to me. the descriptions were very vivid, so the scene unfolded rather smoothly in my mind. going back to our discussion yesterday on who exactly were the characters, it seems that sammy (the narrator), stokesie, lengel, "queenie," and the girls. i consider "big tall goony-goony" (best impromptu name ever) a character even though she didn't talk, as she was part of queenie's group. the girls seemed to not be as much separate characters as much as queenie's minions, so they were very minor characters.
additionally. i shall never view vanilla ice cream the same ever again.
muse:
she had wanted to be with him for the longest time. he was her crush, after all. being a hormonal teenager, the world revolved around him and all he did. she would get flutters in her chest every time he looked at her, smiled that crooked smile and mumbled a shy "hi." every time she hung up after a phone call with him, she would fall into a blissful reverie. so when they finally came together, she thought she would be happy.
she was so wrong.
two days in, and their first fight. it was over something trivial and stupid, but it still broke her heart. that night, there was no phone call, no dreaming, just emptiness. the next day, though, they continued on as if it never happened. from then on, that was how they existed. teasing until tears, lather, rinse, and repeat.
even after their first kiss, the cycle continued. but she was already so deep, she didn't want to get out. so when he finally decided to end things then and there, she refused.
"no," she had argued. "we can make it through. we love each other, we can make it!"
he only shook his head before turning around.
"i love you so much. i love you so much that i want what's best for you. and what's best for you is life without me in it."
and as his footsteps echoed through the empty school hallway, she knew that as he left, so did her heart.
9.02.2010
review of belle starr and muse:wrecked
the second day of the class!
reading "the man who knew belle starr" was... kinda painful. i tried to figure out why i disliked the story so much... and i think it was these things that drove me crazy.
reading "the man who knew belle starr" was... kinda painful. i tried to figure out why i disliked the story so much... and i think it was these things that drove me crazy.
- belle starr didn't seem to be a believable character. though she lived for adventure and whatnot, i just couldn't comprehend any of her actions really. our discussion today in class really helped to enlighten me on her behavior. after i figured out why she acted the way she did, i was able to chip in to the conversation.
- i guess the characters themselves seemed rather flat. though mcrae could be considered a dynamic character since he underwent such a dramatic change in the story, i really disliked his characterization.
- the plot was... mundane, with the little twist of belle starr being who she was.
- details... bausch did a good job with them. he really did. i was able to picture everything as i read it. i still didn't like the story overall.
- short clipped dialog. though that's how conversations go actually in real life, it still didn't quite come across that well for me. mcrae was scared, sure, but... i just didn't like it. maybe i don't like western stories?
- the ending. mcrae changed. but how he changed was completely unclear. bausch just made it seem like he just... changed. he wasn't mcrae anymore. but then who was he? and how did he change?
okay! those are all the points.
time for a short. inspired by lake adventures today. :) kinda. ish. along with just life in general. all involved know who they are.
time for a short. inspired by lake adventures today. :) kinda. ish. along with just life in general. all involved know who they are.
muse:
the first thought through his mind was, "i'm going to die." he'd never thought that anyone could do this to him. he had gathered so many people around him, guarded himself with so many faces to keep the ship afloat. but one by one the masks dissolved, turning the boat into a single plank. and he was left drowning in a deep, cold, bluish-gray ocean in the middle of nowhere, where no one would find him. "maybe she was right," he thought. "maybe i am just a shipwreck." and with that, the driftwood sank, leaving him to tread water. a few breathless moments later, and the voice continued filling his ears with the memory. "i don't think i have the capacity to deal with you." he covered his ears and let out a cry. he was really going to die. as the waves continued to pound relentlessly against his gradually tiring body, he made up his mind. gathering resolve, he held his breath, closed his eyes, and ducked beneath the waves. "because maybe," he thinks, "maybe she's better off without me."
8.31.2010
first post, first impressions, first short? mayhaps. oh, and some rules.
rules:
capitalization is null and void. unless you really really want to.
punctuation is art.
music of the day:
it's disgusting how i love you. -ke$ha
first day of the fiction class!
we read "cat in the rain" today by ernest hemingway. i thought it was an okay short story (although my favorite part was the italian, because i understood a good portion of it). the characters were believable as was the scenario. in essence, i think hemingway did a good job of making a story out of the mundane.
i am so excited for this class! the ability to be able to create a world out of words... it's amazing. and that's what we get to learn. :)
muse:
she thinks it's entirely disgusting. after being known all these years as a heartbreaker, she was falling headfirst in love with him. but it wasn't like the other times. he brushed away all the bad habits. every time she tried to run, he would yell, "red light!" and just like the children's game, she would stop right in her tracks. green light, and she would come back to him, one more bad habit broken. she's been trying to run for almost a year now, but she just keeps on falling back into the same pattern. she used to be a bandit. a heart snatcher. but now... now, she's a hopeless romantic. so... maybe it's not entirely disgusting. frightening? truly.
capitalization is null and void. unless you really really want to.
punctuation is art.
music of the day:
it's disgusting how i love you. -ke$ha
first day of the fiction class!
we read "cat in the rain" today by ernest hemingway. i thought it was an okay short story (although my favorite part was the italian, because i understood a good portion of it). the characters were believable as was the scenario. in essence, i think hemingway did a good job of making a story out of the mundane.
i am so excited for this class! the ability to be able to create a world out of words... it's amazing. and that's what we get to learn. :)
muse:
she thinks it's entirely disgusting. after being known all these years as a heartbreaker, she was falling headfirst in love with him. but it wasn't like the other times. he brushed away all the bad habits. every time she tried to run, he would yell, "red light!" and just like the children's game, she would stop right in her tracks. green light, and she would come back to him, one more bad habit broken. she's been trying to run for almost a year now, but she just keeps on falling back into the same pattern. she used to be a bandit. a heart snatcher. but now... now, she's a hopeless romantic. so... maybe it's not entirely disgusting. frightening? truly.
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