August 20th 2011
Kaeli and I are going to Trafalga at six. I though to sit down and write because I always have sentences running through my head that are amazing for openings, but I never write them down as often as I should. Let's start again:
Waking from a nap is the worst thing in the world. Why? Because you fall asleep in your clothes and wake the next hour with painful lines all over your arms, legs, and face. You just want to keep sleeping when you peel your eyes back, but suddenly you're being bipolar, and the next minute you feel amazing and wide awake.
Okay not amazing.
You feel artificially rested.
Oh well, I needed it.
Aug 23, 2011
Catching Up on Life
August 11th, 2011 12:04 PM
I've realized that no matter how many times you travel the road to get home, it's hard to give directions to someone who hasn't been. Maybe that's how it is with a lot of other philosophical things as well. Like a missionary trying to show someone to the church, or like trying to teach a student who doesn't get it.
You become paranoid after a while. Rachel is coming over, or hopefully is, and she's driving all by herself. I gave her as detailed instructions as I could give, and yet I feel like she'll get lost. It's not because I feel she's incapable of it. It's just that I feel paranoid. A missionary might feel paranoid that he couldn't get a man to the church, and that it would be the same for every one else he tried. A teacher may be paranoid that his student will fail and the parents will come in. Sometimes our best isn't enough.
I feel that way all the time. i try to be a good friend, but often I can't be, because I can't be what they'd rather have: alone time.
I've realized that wen my friends are paired up, I rather like being quiet and observant, but still laugh and interact when I choose to be. The problem is that my friends worry I'm suddenly sad or angry when I'm not smiling. I must smile too much... They cry or pout or get angry, and never do I pounce on them and tell them to cheer up or fess up what's wrong. If they tell me, I give advice, but otherwise leave them to their sulking.
I probably should feel flattered that they care so much, but it's annoying sometimes. Brett trying to make me laugh when I don't wan to, or Kaylynn and Kaeli trying to understand the situation. I'm sorry to say, but sometimes you'll NEVER understand the situations I'm in. Even if you have an open mind, you'd have to be in my shoes to understand it. Drew and his hugs...they are also a little unnerving. By the time they realize I don't want their comfort, I have to be mean or scary to make them realize.
Friends are wonderful help when you want it, but sometimes there are things you have to do on your own. Not all pain can be mended with the help of others. That is why I admire Buddhists. I just can't do the meditation thing when Dustin is with me. Buddhists are mostly about service and finding enlightenment on their own. There are certain things in life only you can achieve or fix in yourself. (Like finding a boyfriend on your own or finding spiritual peace).
I need to do more of this. People (mom and dad) tell me to study and find my spiritituality on my own, but I don't want to. When it becomes important, I will, but not now. I think that is why I've had trouble with churches in general. They push for group things or gospel or something to be learned NOW and that you should believe it. I, myself, do not like being pushed like that. I feel obligated and hollow when I am. I don't learn anything; just remember empty stories.
It's moments like this when I really learn things because I wrote it out or pondered it, or read it in a book. Same thing goes for some emotional conflict or an odd situation. You can't truly learn unless you solved it yourself. When Kaylynn hurt herself, I was worried, but I also understood. The thing is, at first I tried to help her and solve her problem, but there wasn't anything I, as the friend, could do. I had to let it go and see how she dealt with it, only offering kind words when she looked in my direction. I helped to hide her wounds, knowing full well what that kind of attention was like, and how much I loathed it. There is only so much I can do to help someone, and oten times, there is only so much they can do for me.
I've written about society before, and now my grandfather wishes to speak with me about that. Never again. Frankly, I am pretty bad at keeping things to myself. I have a need to express my opinion, much like my father in some ways. I have a mission to set myself apart from others. No longer. This journal is for a reason, and one alone: To keep secrecy from spilling out again. To let out my emotions is to basically let out my secrets, but I can't do that to a person so long as I live in this world and this century. Even out of state, there will be people (many o them) who won't understand things I do. I am one of those people who has the potential to look at every aspect of life. There isn't very many people like me int he world, and only one exactly like me.
Me.
So when a friend asks me what is wrong, I have to tell myself that they just don't understand, and that if I give them simple answer, they'll be satisfied. It can be a lonely world, despite the billions that inhabit it. True characters have the advantage I do when it comes to my interaction with people or with thoughts. I cannot insert myself into a story, but I can insert what I've learned and open eyes to those daring enough to read me.
There is always someone who will pick up my work and turn the page, and when they do, they'll learn something they didn't know about life.
I've realized that no matter how many times you travel the road to get home, it's hard to give directions to someone who hasn't been. Maybe that's how it is with a lot of other philosophical things as well. Like a missionary trying to show someone to the church, or like trying to teach a student who doesn't get it.
You become paranoid after a while. Rachel is coming over, or hopefully is, and she's driving all by herself. I gave her as detailed instructions as I could give, and yet I feel like she'll get lost. It's not because I feel she's incapable of it. It's just that I feel paranoid. A missionary might feel paranoid that he couldn't get a man to the church, and that it would be the same for every one else he tried. A teacher may be paranoid that his student will fail and the parents will come in. Sometimes our best isn't enough.
I feel that way all the time. i try to be a good friend, but often I can't be, because I can't be what they'd rather have: alone time.
I've realized that wen my friends are paired up, I rather like being quiet and observant, but still laugh and interact when I choose to be. The problem is that my friends worry I'm suddenly sad or angry when I'm not smiling. I must smile too much... They cry or pout or get angry, and never do I pounce on them and tell them to cheer up or fess up what's wrong. If they tell me, I give advice, but otherwise leave them to their sulking.
I probably should feel flattered that they care so much, but it's annoying sometimes. Brett trying to make me laugh when I don't wan to, or Kaylynn and Kaeli trying to understand the situation. I'm sorry to say, but sometimes you'll NEVER understand the situations I'm in. Even if you have an open mind, you'd have to be in my shoes to understand it. Drew and his hugs...they are also a little unnerving. By the time they realize I don't want their comfort, I have to be mean or scary to make them realize.
Friends are wonderful help when you want it, but sometimes there are things you have to do on your own. Not all pain can be mended with the help of others. That is why I admire Buddhists. I just can't do the meditation thing when Dustin is with me. Buddhists are mostly about service and finding enlightenment on their own. There are certain things in life only you can achieve or fix in yourself. (Like finding a boyfriend on your own or finding spiritual peace).
I need to do more of this. People (mom and dad) tell me to study and find my spiritituality on my own, but I don't want to. When it becomes important, I will, but not now. I think that is why I've had trouble with churches in general. They push for group things or gospel or something to be learned NOW and that you should believe it. I, myself, do not like being pushed like that. I feel obligated and hollow when I am. I don't learn anything; just remember empty stories.
It's moments like this when I really learn things because I wrote it out or pondered it, or read it in a book. Same thing goes for some emotional conflict or an odd situation. You can't truly learn unless you solved it yourself. When Kaylynn hurt herself, I was worried, but I also understood. The thing is, at first I tried to help her and solve her problem, but there wasn't anything I, as the friend, could do. I had to let it go and see how she dealt with it, only offering kind words when she looked in my direction. I helped to hide her wounds, knowing full well what that kind of attention was like, and how much I loathed it. There is only so much I can do to help someone, and oten times, there is only so much they can do for me.
I've written about society before, and now my grandfather wishes to speak with me about that. Never again. Frankly, I am pretty bad at keeping things to myself. I have a need to express my opinion, much like my father in some ways. I have a mission to set myself apart from others. No longer. This journal is for a reason, and one alone: To keep secrecy from spilling out again. To let out my emotions is to basically let out my secrets, but I can't do that to a person so long as I live in this world and this century. Even out of state, there will be people (many o them) who won't understand things I do. I am one of those people who has the potential to look at every aspect of life. There isn't very many people like me int he world, and only one exactly like me.
Me.
So when a friend asks me what is wrong, I have to tell myself that they just don't understand, and that if I give them simple answer, they'll be satisfied. It can be a lonely world, despite the billions that inhabit it. True characters have the advantage I do when it comes to my interaction with people or with thoughts. I cannot insert myself into a story, but I can insert what I've learned and open eyes to those daring enough to read me.
There is always someone who will pick up my work and turn the page, and when they do, they'll learn something they didn't know about life.
High School
I've contemplated sitting here and typing out every little detail about my first day of High School, but I know I can't do it because I'll get bored. Also, it'll bore others as well. Besides, I already relayed the basics to everyone who has asked me, and I don't feel a need to tell the internet world the same thing. So, shall we delve into some deeper thoughts?
I haven't typed out a blog posts in a long long time because I've been without computer for a long long time. Or at least, it feels long to me, and it'll feel longer when I get assignments that need to be done on the computer. Basically what I've been doing is writing in a journal because I don't have access to my blog every day. I realize that I can put more personal things in my journal than I can on my blog, but I still love my blog and I still want to type, so sometime I'll relay what I've written in the past few days so you all can know what I've been thinking about or going through. Not that any of you care :P
I deleted my goodreads account so I don't get distracted this year, because homework is going to be a big thing. I've realized that the work is going to be very very hard and long and I'll have to work my butt off doing it. I've also realized that High School is going to be very very difficult. Firstly, because I know that getting through those crowded hallways are going to be a nightmare. Secondly, I know that there's only so much time to spend with friends before the bus comes or before lunch ends. Thirdly, the teachers are kickass hilarious, but I know they'll be dumping work on me, and my poor backpack probably won't be able to hold together by the time school ends.
It all sounds so redundant and obnoxious and I know I'm spurring "I hate school" feelings within you, but it's all worth it in the end. I'll work my hardest in learning and keeping up because I want to do well and get into college, and in college, I'll do the same thing, not only because I paid for it, but because I want to learn. To have a good career is one of my biggest dreams. To be a famous writer with a lot of background knowledge so I can write about anything is my BIGGEST dream EVER. The idea of being known all over the world is exciting and gives me an adrenaline rush, and because I want it, I'll get it. That's the difference between me and other people who go to school. They complain about it and they don't know what they want in life yet. I complain too, but to a much lesser extent, and most of the time it is halfhearted. I know what I want, and I know what classes to take and what to do to get there. I know a lot of people who don't have a clue, or their dream sounds pretty insecure coming from their lips.
Today in PE, Mr. Anderson had everyone stand in front of the class and share something about ourselves.
I stood up and said in my loudest, most excited voice, "I'm going to be famous, so look for me on the shelves at your local bookstore. The name's Mindy. Mindy Christen, or it may be known as M. T. Christen."
That was it. That was all I needed to spur excitement from particularly bubbly cheerleaders into asking me what I write and what I've written. I already have a novel. How many teenagers do you know that's written a novel?
It's this kind of attitude that will get me places I want to go. Not many have it, and it saddens me to hear it or see it. Some kids slump around school, complaining about the ache in their shoulders, and they slack off. Where are they going? No one knows, not even them. So why won't they figure something out and pursue it? Because they're busy living in the now and socializing with their friends. It's okay to do that, but it's not okay to think of school as a bother and not do anything for your future. It's your career and your future that will live on the longest in your memory, not your crappy teenage years. That career feeds your children, who will be your future in the long run.
But not many people realize this.
That's why you're not a writer unless you have a message. I have so many messages to share, and I'll share the gist of them all with you right here on this blog. If you didn't like this post, then go somewhere else, because this girl has an opinion, and she's not afraid to shout it out to the world.
***
August 10th, 2011
School is definitely inching its way towards me. I am simply stating this fact, because I am quite aware of my empty closet and the backpack that has huge holes. I have no money, Carol hasn't texted me in a long time, and i fear that Sissie and Talon have forgotten me. That said, the computer problem arises as well. Our computer broke somehow. I have a look of utter in-amusement as I write this. I finally got a library card yesterday and received internet permission, but I'm limited to an hour daily. In that hour, I type frantically, hoping to get my chapter out on the internet.
Frankly, I loathe the library because of that lone hour I get, but it's my only chance to write and type and roleplay. They should give me unlimited time, because I don't like walking a few miles everyday for one hour when I can use Dad's laptop upstairs. Whatever. Life is never fair.
Regarding that phrase: There are good things that come in life. One is my talent to write. Sometimes possessing that talent results in writer's block, aggravating computer problems, and possible mechanic pencil failures or cramping hand muscles. I'm sure I'm not the only person delayed this way.
School is a major concern for me. Everyday I get to walk three miles to the bus stop, walk around school, and every other day endure fitness. I get to be bombarded in never-ending homework and projects. I won't have the time I do during the summer to read and write. That is why I am plowing through books as quick as I can. I finished Forever Odd in 10 hours straight. Yes, I am insane. My only hope is that for the first few weeks of school, I won't have any major need for a computer.
It sucks to be poor sometimes, but mind you, it's better than being rich.
I am the only way my friends can hang out with each other and kiss while fifteen, and I always will be until they turn sixteen, because that's what living in a mormon community does to you. I've sacrificed a lot for them, and regrettably, I'll continue to.
My life isn't a sappy teenage drama. It's pretty simple and boring for the most part, and I think whoever controls this "bootcamp" life knew that. That's why I've been granted the task to write. I'll excite my life with stories simply because my life has no story. I'm a fifteen year old girl with a huge dream and a small pad of paper. I complain because I can, but I don't mean to complain to the point of annoying someone. It's probably why I don't talk back to my parents often, or why I don't beg after being told no once. I'm limited and restricted, and I know those obstacles in my path, so I walk around it and make do with what I have. How many clothes do you suppose I can buy with twenty dollers? If only five shirts, then I'll find many ways to wear those shirts. I'm beginning to realize that I don't need a classy wardrobe anyway. Just pants and a tee shirt, and my pretty face.
I'll probably type up sections of this journal and put them up on my blog. Including this one, I hope my posts or my words will impact someone, somehow. When they do, if they do, I'll feel like a better person inside. Until then, I'm taking Almond's advice.
I don't need to prove tot he world that I'm not Mormon. I don't have to waste my breath explaining to an immovable person. It's my business, and I don't give a shit who cares or not. I'll keep it to myself, I'll tolerate and respect others, and I'll continue on without so much as a glance or a wound. Religion isn't a priority, and it isn't as important as education and comfort is. I'm no missionary, and I won't ever be.
While I'm on this rant, I might as well add that I am okay. I'm not depressed, but I do sadden. I am content, but I'm not completely comfortable. I want to be bothered, but not distressed. I'd rather not care about how I look, though it is habit. There is food around an din my stomach, though it may not seem like much. I can stand and walk, I can take care of myself.
I am smart, healthy, and clean. That's all I can ask for. I complain, I sadden, and I get angry, but they don't last long. I realize that is the same for everyone else, and that is what makes me unique.
You either get it, or you don't.
I haven't typed out a blog posts in a long long time because I've been without computer for a long long time. Or at least, it feels long to me, and it'll feel longer when I get assignments that need to be done on the computer. Basically what I've been doing is writing in a journal because I don't have access to my blog every day. I realize that I can put more personal things in my journal than I can on my blog, but I still love my blog and I still want to type, so sometime I'll relay what I've written in the past few days so you all can know what I've been thinking about or going through. Not that any of you care :P
I deleted my goodreads account so I don't get distracted this year, because homework is going to be a big thing. I've realized that the work is going to be very very hard and long and I'll have to work my butt off doing it. I've also realized that High School is going to be very very difficult. Firstly, because I know that getting through those crowded hallways are going to be a nightmare. Secondly, I know that there's only so much time to spend with friends before the bus comes or before lunch ends. Thirdly, the teachers are kickass hilarious, but I know they'll be dumping work on me, and my poor backpack probably won't be able to hold together by the time school ends.
It all sounds so redundant and obnoxious and I know I'm spurring "I hate school" feelings within you, but it's all worth it in the end. I'll work my hardest in learning and keeping up because I want to do well and get into college, and in college, I'll do the same thing, not only because I paid for it, but because I want to learn. To have a good career is one of my biggest dreams. To be a famous writer with a lot of background knowledge so I can write about anything is my BIGGEST dream EVER. The idea of being known all over the world is exciting and gives me an adrenaline rush, and because I want it, I'll get it. That's the difference between me and other people who go to school. They complain about it and they don't know what they want in life yet. I complain too, but to a much lesser extent, and most of the time it is halfhearted. I know what I want, and I know what classes to take and what to do to get there. I know a lot of people who don't have a clue, or their dream sounds pretty insecure coming from their lips.
Today in PE, Mr. Anderson had everyone stand in front of the class and share something about ourselves.
I stood up and said in my loudest, most excited voice, "I'm going to be famous, so look for me on the shelves at your local bookstore. The name's Mindy. Mindy Christen, or it may be known as M. T. Christen."
That was it. That was all I needed to spur excitement from particularly bubbly cheerleaders into asking me what I write and what I've written. I already have a novel. How many teenagers do you know that's written a novel?
It's this kind of attitude that will get me places I want to go. Not many have it, and it saddens me to hear it or see it. Some kids slump around school, complaining about the ache in their shoulders, and they slack off. Where are they going? No one knows, not even them. So why won't they figure something out and pursue it? Because they're busy living in the now and socializing with their friends. It's okay to do that, but it's not okay to think of school as a bother and not do anything for your future. It's your career and your future that will live on the longest in your memory, not your crappy teenage years. That career feeds your children, who will be your future in the long run.
But not many people realize this.
That's why you're not a writer unless you have a message. I have so many messages to share, and I'll share the gist of them all with you right here on this blog. If you didn't like this post, then go somewhere else, because this girl has an opinion, and she's not afraid to shout it out to the world.
***
August 10th, 2011
School is definitely inching its way towards me. I am simply stating this fact, because I am quite aware of my empty closet and the backpack that has huge holes. I have no money, Carol hasn't texted me in a long time, and i fear that Sissie and Talon have forgotten me. That said, the computer problem arises as well. Our computer broke somehow. I have a look of utter in-amusement as I write this. I finally got a library card yesterday and received internet permission, but I'm limited to an hour daily. In that hour, I type frantically, hoping to get my chapter out on the internet.
Frankly, I loathe the library because of that lone hour I get, but it's my only chance to write and type and roleplay. They should give me unlimited time, because I don't like walking a few miles everyday for one hour when I can use Dad's laptop upstairs. Whatever. Life is never fair.
Regarding that phrase: There are good things that come in life. One is my talent to write. Sometimes possessing that talent results in writer's block, aggravating computer problems, and possible mechanic pencil failures or cramping hand muscles. I'm sure I'm not the only person delayed this way.
School is a major concern for me. Everyday I get to walk three miles to the bus stop, walk around school, and every other day endure fitness. I get to be bombarded in never-ending homework and projects. I won't have the time I do during the summer to read and write. That is why I am plowing through books as quick as I can. I finished Forever Odd in 10 hours straight. Yes, I am insane. My only hope is that for the first few weeks of school, I won't have any major need for a computer.
It sucks to be poor sometimes, but mind you, it's better than being rich.
I am the only way my friends can hang out with each other and kiss while fifteen, and I always will be until they turn sixteen, because that's what living in a mormon community does to you. I've sacrificed a lot for them, and regrettably, I'll continue to.
My life isn't a sappy teenage drama. It's pretty simple and boring for the most part, and I think whoever controls this "bootcamp" life knew that. That's why I've been granted the task to write. I'll excite my life with stories simply because my life has no story. I'm a fifteen year old girl with a huge dream and a small pad of paper. I complain because I can, but I don't mean to complain to the point of annoying someone. It's probably why I don't talk back to my parents often, or why I don't beg after being told no once. I'm limited and restricted, and I know those obstacles in my path, so I walk around it and make do with what I have. How many clothes do you suppose I can buy with twenty dollers? If only five shirts, then I'll find many ways to wear those shirts. I'm beginning to realize that I don't need a classy wardrobe anyway. Just pants and a tee shirt, and my pretty face.
I'll probably type up sections of this journal and put them up on my blog. Including this one, I hope my posts or my words will impact someone, somehow. When they do, if they do, I'll feel like a better person inside. Until then, I'm taking Almond's advice.
I don't need to prove tot he world that I'm not Mormon. I don't have to waste my breath explaining to an immovable person. It's my business, and I don't give a shit who cares or not. I'll keep it to myself, I'll tolerate and respect others, and I'll continue on without so much as a glance or a wound. Religion isn't a priority, and it isn't as important as education and comfort is. I'm no missionary, and I won't ever be.
While I'm on this rant, I might as well add that I am okay. I'm not depressed, but I do sadden. I am content, but I'm not completely comfortable. I want to be bothered, but not distressed. I'd rather not care about how I look, though it is habit. There is food around an din my stomach, though it may not seem like much. I can stand and walk, I can take care of myself.
I am smart, healthy, and clean. That's all I can ask for. I complain, I sadden, and I get angry, but they don't last long. I realize that is the same for everyone else, and that is what makes me unique.
You either get it, or you don't.
Jul 16, 2011
Yes well, I'm Sort of Back
I haven't felt the need to write here for a long time, but it's only because I've been furiously writing chapter after chapter. I'm on the verge of finishing my novel. Nine chapters to go before the first draft of my book is complete, and I'm so excited. My goal is to get it done before the summer ends, that way when school comes along, I don't have to worry about putting off homework so I can write a little chapter here and there. Yes, I'll be reading through it and editing it constantly, and I have a lot of revision to do, but I'm just happy that I've gotten so far. Syrusses's secret is revealed in chapter 33, and Cyran is about to use it to his advantage. Syrusses has been so patient, so determined, and so ready to get this sword, that by the time Syrusses gets to the cave, all control snaps. Will he unleash the sword or not?
On other news, my parents are in Park City right now, meaning my aunt and uncle are here to stay with us to make sure kidnappers don't come along, or if anything happens they'll be here to help. Basically, with them here, it means I can stay up a lot later outside of my room if I wanted. *Snicker* Shh....don't tell anyone. My uncle told me his million dollar novel idea, and I suppose I would read it, but Zombies and smart people? Mm...maybe. We'll see if it turns out okay.
I was in a fictionpress forum yesterday, just lingering, trying to get reviewers for my book, when I came upon something that actually scared me out of my mind:
Coolmonster
Sometimes a writer starting out very young has a long writing career ahead of them but other times they never seem to write anything comparable with their first success. Burned themselves out to early, perhaps. Mary Shelley sold Frankenstein at 17, but never came up with anything else you'd want to read. Robert Bloch started writing at 15 and became a famous horror novelist. Stephen King submitted his first story at 15 to Famous Monsters of Filmland. The story was not accepted, the editor felt other young people who did not become well known writers had sent him better stories. Many years later, long after King was world famous, the editor discovered he had an original King story and published it among much fanfare. The magazine it appeared in skyrocketed in value, but it really wasn't as good as other stories by teenagers not interested in making writing their life's work.
Now think about that. I am a young writer. :( I'm scared that all my juice will be gone when I'm older! D: Now you see my dilemma? Yes, you do....ugh....I shouldn't let this get to me, but I can't help but worry. That's why I keep going over my other novel ideas as well, that's why I write down anything that comes to mind in my itsy bitsy notebook downstairs. Ah well, I'm sure I won't be like other authors....I hope.
On other news, my parents are in Park City right now, meaning my aunt and uncle are here to stay with us to make sure kidnappers don't come along, or if anything happens they'll be here to help. Basically, with them here, it means I can stay up a lot later outside of my room if I wanted. *Snicker* Shh....don't tell anyone. My uncle told me his million dollar novel idea, and I suppose I would read it, but Zombies and smart people? Mm...maybe. We'll see if it turns out okay.
I was in a fictionpress forum yesterday, just lingering, trying to get reviewers for my book, when I came upon something that actually scared me out of my mind:
Coolmonster
Sometimes a writer starting out very young has a long writing career ahead of them but other times they never seem to write anything comparable with their first success. Burned themselves out to early, perhaps. Mary Shelley sold Frankenstein at 17, but never came up with anything else you'd want to read. Robert Bloch started writing at 15 and became a famous horror novelist. Stephen King submitted his first story at 15 to Famous Monsters of Filmland. The story was not accepted, the editor felt other young people who did not become well known writers had sent him better stories. Many years later, long after King was world famous, the editor discovered he had an original King story and published it among much fanfare. The magazine it appeared in skyrocketed in value, but it really wasn't as good as other stories by teenagers not interested in making writing their life's work.
Now think about that. I am a young writer. :( I'm scared that all my juice will be gone when I'm older! D: Now you see my dilemma? Yes, you do....ugh....I shouldn't let this get to me, but I can't help but worry. That's why I keep going over my other novel ideas as well, that's why I write down anything that comes to mind in my itsy bitsy notebook downstairs. Ah well, I'm sure I won't be like other authors....I hope.
Jul 9, 2011
Making Good Use of my Summer
I believe Harry Potter 7 part 2 is coming out in a week. You don't know how excited I am. I also recall finishing Chapter 29 of my novel with 97,000 words. These are the little things that make my summer exciting. Yes, I don't mind summer ending and school coming around, but I like to feel these moments of enthrallment when nothing really matters except my accomplishments and the silly amusement of film entertainment. What I love most about the extra time I have every day, is that I can let my imagination loose. Recently I've bought a sketch pad. I decided that sketch pad is used for sketches. Those sketches would mostly center around my Novel, because it's a way to calm my excitement and express the antsy feelings through image when I can't express it in my writing. I describe the feelings as antsy, because they itch under your skin and never go away, but I never said I didn't like the feeling. The fact that I'm still obsessed over my story means something. It means I won't give up on it, and it means I can take it to a whole new level. It means my creativity won't end abruptly.
I feel as though I haven't described those feelings very well. Let me try again. I have two characters in my novel; Alyshia and Krayden. Now, their relationship has been slowly building throughout the chapters. I don't want to put a butt-load of romance and make everyone sick of my book, because I know I would get sick of writing it. However, as a girl, I enjoy romance and I like to see a relationship work out. That's what I desperately wish for my characters, but I have to keep their relationship on the edge; able to break at a moment's notice, just to keep the reader's on the edge of their seats while there's a war going on. Because I want Alyshia and Krayden to just have at it and kiss throughout their entire relationship, I let out those feelings. Not through my book, but through other methods. Sometimes I draw scenes of them together from my novel, other times I just role-play on goodreads with the characters. Other times I just listen to music and try to pick out the perfect love song for them. However, it's not only romance. Sometimes I get restless when I can't fully release my violent feelings from my system through writing. (Not often, because I have quite a few battle scenes in my book...) So I find other methods of releasing it through the artsy ways, just so I can have it with me forever if I wanted to.
That describes the antsy feelings I love to feel. That is part of the reason why my walls are covered with everything I can think of. Pictures, drawings, posters, decorations. I have a wall I plan on dedicating to my writing and imagination; to all my characters and plots and settings and dialogue. I might sound a little obsessive, but I'm taking up this free time I have now to do things I may not be able to do when school starts. I might be able to finish the first draft of my novel this summer.
I feel as though I haven't described those feelings very well. Let me try again. I have two characters in my novel; Alyshia and Krayden. Now, their relationship has been slowly building throughout the chapters. I don't want to put a butt-load of romance and make everyone sick of my book, because I know I would get sick of writing it. However, as a girl, I enjoy romance and I like to see a relationship work out. That's what I desperately wish for my characters, but I have to keep their relationship on the edge; able to break at a moment's notice, just to keep the reader's on the edge of their seats while there's a war going on. Because I want Alyshia and Krayden to just have at it and kiss throughout their entire relationship, I let out those feelings. Not through my book, but through other methods. Sometimes I draw scenes of them together from my novel, other times I just role-play on goodreads with the characters. Other times I just listen to music and try to pick out the perfect love song for them. However, it's not only romance. Sometimes I get restless when I can't fully release my violent feelings from my system through writing. (Not often, because I have quite a few battle scenes in my book...) So I find other methods of releasing it through the artsy ways, just so I can have it with me forever if I wanted to.
That describes the antsy feelings I love to feel. That is part of the reason why my walls are covered with everything I can think of. Pictures, drawings, posters, decorations. I have a wall I plan on dedicating to my writing and imagination; to all my characters and plots and settings and dialogue. I might sound a little obsessive, but I'm taking up this free time I have now to do things I may not be able to do when school starts. I might be able to finish the first draft of my novel this summer.
Jul 2, 2011
Driving and Hiking
As I said earlier, I got the opportunity to drive. Just as I was walking out the door with my mom, I got butterflies in my stomach, just as you would when you're next in line on the Rocket at Lagoon, or when you are inches away from kissing the person of your dreams. Yes, I had butterflies just like that. My mom took me to the PGJHS parking lot where I practiced my turning and braking, considering it wasn't much of a parking lot. More like a drop off zone. After that, we made our way to the PGHS to see if they had a Driver's Ed Course, which they didn't. It came about me driving down a traffic-filled road and turning into a church parking lot, where I practiced my parking. I think I got the hang of it pretty well.
There I am, on the wheel. My mom just had to take a picture for Facebook. :)
Also in other news, I went hiking a few days ago with my dad. We went up to Battle Creek Canyon and hiked 1400 feet high, then hiked back down. On the way, I got some pretty good pictures.
There I am, on the wheel. My mom just had to take a picture for Facebook. :)
Also in other news, I went hiking a few days ago with my dad. We went up to Battle Creek Canyon and hiked 1400 feet high, then hiked back down. On the way, I got some pretty good pictures.
Today, I am an Adult
I have my learner's permit. WHA HOO!!!!!! And I will be driving today. :D Yes well, that's an update on my life.
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