masterpiece chaos

it’s official.  i’m taking a creative writing class at emory! i’m nervous and excited, but think it will help with my endless writer’s block.  it starts sept 26 and goes until nov 14th, so hopefully i wont go into labor before then.  wish me luck!

well it looks like i’m going to have a 5 day weekend (the weekend + 2 snow days + my scheduled day off). i spent today finalizing  a rough outline of all three books. i narrowed down the story’s overall theme and lined up the revealing of the back story with the front story. that actually took quite a bit of time and a lil bit of mixed drinks. but, now, i have something to work with.

tomorrow i need to fix up my writing space and start writing the prologue and first chapter (again). i have to start from scratch since i’m completely changing the POV and opening scene. *sigh*

i also thought about taking some kind of writing workshop.  i havent been in a writing class in so long!  i think a refresher would be nice, but they’re so expensive. um, why do i need to spend $300 for someone to help remind me of the basics of writing a novel? fuck that. i know for a fact stephanie meyer didnt know much about writing novels and look at her. blah! i did find something for $175 at emory, but that still seems kinda steep.  maybe, it’s worth it? still thinking on it.

so, yeah. tomorrow is a new intro and new chapter 1. oh and background on the world i’m creating and the people in it too. can’t forget that. oh and fixing up my writing space. jeez! luckily i have wed off too…

my acting debut occurred when i was in elementary school.  i woke up one morning and decided to be a complete bitch to my friends.  reasons?  who needs reasons when you’re a bratty girl in elementary school.  so, i spent the day alternating between silent treatments and all-out bitch fests.

i was absolutely amazed by my ability to perform this exhausting role for such an extended period of time.  so amazed that i decided to take the act to after school care.  at some point, unbeknownst to me, my friends went to a teacher and ratted me out.  the nerve!  the teacher pulled me into another room and asked me why i was being so terrible to my best friends.  1- i 100% did not appreciate my friends being tattle tales. 2- i did not appreciate this teacher being a kink in my (up to that point) best performance ever. 3- i did not want to get in trouble just for being that damn good at my act.  so, i did what any kid in that kind of situation would do.  i flipped the script.

i broke down and cried.  I lied confessed to having a death in the family and just not being myself.  i went on to say, through uncontrollable sobs, that i didn’t want to be so mean, but the sadness was more than i could handle.  the teacher gave me a hug and said she understood.  this all eventually lead to my friends apologizing to ME! ha!  the day ended with us playing games and gossiping.  ya know, business as usual.

so, there you go.  my acting debut.  haha! suckers!

i was once a poet. a very dark, suicidal, morbid poet.  i had a perfectly fine childhood, but, to me, a poem wasn’t a poem if it didn’t make you want to jump off of a cliff.  i wrote about suicides, how horrible the world was, unrequited love, losing loved ones, and being done wrong.  i’d say about 25% was from actual experience, 25% was from current events, and the remaining 50% just popped into my head.

where this random post came from: during my prednisone-induced insomnia state last night, i thought about my old plastic spacemaker poem box. today, i found it. it has 23 poems, 3 unsents, and 4 notes from old flames. AND a diary. without the key…?

here’s a middle school poem of mine:

weeping willow

weeping willow, all alone in the night / wind blowing slightly, only darkness in sight / not even a glow from the overhead moon/ who hides behind the clouds, is it from you? / i just want to know why you’re sad and crying / everyday and night like you’re life’s slowly dying

weeping willow please tell me, i care / why tears and sorrow are all that you wear / the spirit of loneliness and neglect surrounds / sending chills down my spine when you’re around / i can feel your loss, all who’ve said good-bye / all the loves and hates, are they why you cry?

weeping willow, i wish i knew what to say / to cheer you up or make the culprits pay / who’ve put you in such a depressed state / but i’m sorry to say, it’s probably too late / are you listening? even trying to hear? / this despair makes death wander near

weeping willow, do you wish me to go? / and leave you here during you’re life-long low? / i wont leave you here depressed and alone / with no one to hear your sad whimpers and moans / i dont think i can even let you be / because everything in you is also in me

ha! my main flaw as a poet was an inability to be creative with end rhyme.  most of my work used the same words over and over again.  i was no eminem (sweater already, mom’s spaghetti). i tried free verse, but it never looked right on paper. it only made sense if i read it aloud, and open mic night was definitely not in my plans.

daydream

dark hair, light eyes, so fine / extremely handsome, i wish he’d entwine / his arms around me, whisper in my ear / tell me loves me, without any fear / of what people and society say / together forever, day after day / a face of mystery, nice lips to touch / hormones racing, this is too much / powerful feelings, of love and lust / next to him, til ashes and dust / looking so perfect, skin like a cream / the perfect figure for my daydream / it slowly diminshes, here comes his friend / the one he loves, makes it all end

yeah…i’m not sure who this was about. but i’m thinking it was a white guy due to the “skin like a cream.” and the whole society thing must have been my mom not into me liking white guys. i probably got the cream comment from a christopher pike book or something. and i don’t remember having such an intense crush on someone with a girlfriend. anyway…yeah, i was also big into the last line of a poem being the most thought-provoking. i liked to leave ppl thinking, although i would have never allowed anyone to read them.

i’m not exactly sure why i’m posting them now.  i guess it’s just nice to look back at the beginnings of my creative expression. :) memories!

    I wasn’t exactly sure how I got there.  I did know I wanted out.  It was bitter cold with pitch black darkness.  I saw the same thing whether my eyes were opened or closed: nothing.  I wondered what the darkness had in store for me this time.  I barely completed the thought when a strong gust of wind sent me airborne and flying backwards. It scared the hell out of me at first, but the adrenaline rush and excitement took over.  Who doesn’t like flying?  And I was going faster than any roller coaster I’d ever been on.  I was flying in a world where I was completely alone.  A world with no fear of anyone’s emotions trying to assault me every minute of the day.  I was free! 
    Eventually, it started to dawn on me that I wasn’t slowing down.  I knew it was all a dream, so I tried to command the wind with my thoughts.  I even tried to wake myself up, but nothing worked.  The darkness just became more and more disconcerting and suffocating.  It pressed hard on my chest making it difficult to breathe and seeped into my head making it hard to think.  Not again.  I don’t want to lose myself.  Knowing it wouldn’t help in the least, I started screaming and thrashing.  Maybe if I fight harder, I might actually win this time.  Unfortunately, fighting didn’t do anything except drain my energy.  I kept flying backwards, and the darkness kept consuming me.  It felt like my soul was being pulled right out of my body.  And as usual, I was helpless in stopping it.  I could hear my pointless sobs right before I lost my hearing.  Right on cue, my heartbeat slowed and I felt myself slowly cease to exist.