As you can see, these are my blogs :) Each one was done as a warm-up before working on that day's writing or project. In most cases, I wasn't very happy with the product I got in my blog entries. I think that my best ones were ones based around ideas I came up with on my own. Usually, the prompts were not helpful, but I think that this is because I tend to write stuff that is more serious. It's very rare that I write something that turns out completely ridiculous, and when I do, it's usually because I had no idea what to do and just wrote stupid stuff. There's not really much else to say about my blogs... I like many of them, and some days they helped me get into the writing mood, but they were often a hindrance.
Warning: This is going to be absolutely ridiculous because I completely lack inspiration.
John settled into his desk, looking around the room awkwardly. He hadn't really wanted to be in the foreign exchange program, but his parents insisted it would be good for him. He had warmed up to the idea over time, dreaming of going somewhere like England or Spain. Nope. Russia. John was sent to Russia, and now he was stuck in a Russian classroom surrounded by Vladimirs and Anastasiyas. Not a single Bob or Katie in sight.
He mostly tuned out the teacher as she read aloud a passage from the book. He'd only been here for two weeks and he was already tired of it. "Man, this sucks," he muttered under his breath in Russian.
"BAD WORD!" shrieked the girl sitting behind him, throwing her arms up in the air.
"BAD WORD!" chimed in the surrounding students, throwing up their arms as well. Books and papers went flying. Soon everyone in the room was yelling the phrase, even the teacher.
"BAD WOOOOOORD!" the teacher yelled, grabbing John by his arm and pulling him out of the desk. She pulled him to the door, shoving him unceremoniously into the hallway. After a few seconds, the chorus of "bad word" died down. Dumbstruck, John sat down in the hallway. This place was weird.
On the other side of the world, John's parents had just sat down for dinner with their foreign exchange student, Vladimir.
"I heard the Bears lost," said John's mother, passing her husband the bowl of mashed potatoes.
John's father nodded with a small frown,"A damn shame," he replied, scooping out a blob of mashed potatoes.
"BAD WOOOOOOOOOOORD!" Vladimir shouted, throwing his arms up and flipping over his plate.
"WHAT?" Lisa squawked loudly. Jim, her husband, covered his face and let out a groan. For Heaven's sake, they were in public.
"Use yer inside voice, women!" he hissed.
"WHAT?!" Lisa yelled, a little more loudly this time.
"Yer fixin to ge' us thrown out, y'ol coot!"
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU, JIM!" said Lisa, waving her arms about. Jim clenched his hands into fist, wishing he had a wall to punch or some wood to hack up with an ax. After a pause, he pulled out his old cellphone, dialing his wife's number. "HELLO?" the woman answered.
"Gol darn it, Lisa! Pipe down!" Jim grumbled into the phone.
"WHY, JIM!" Lisa cried happily, smiling wide at her husband, "IT'S YOU ON THE PHONE!"
Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yeah, Lisa, I know."
Pierre sat quietly and stared out the window. He bit his lip as he watched his newest ex-wife pull out of the driveway.
Pierre sat quietly and stared out the window. The rain fell softly outside, its continuous drumming bringing a sense of calm over him.
Pierre sat quietly and stared out the window. He ran his fingers over his baseball bat; the fog was beginning to stir.
Pierre sat quietly and stared out the window. He could feel the life slowly seeping out of the gash on his side, but all he could do was wait.
( I couldn't think of any other sentences before time ran out.)
I read all the time as a child. I'd say that my love of books stemmed from my grandpa, because he would read to me every time I went to my grandparents' house. I remember loving listening to him. I didn't have a particular reason why, he was just a good storyteller. When I think about it now his voice reminds me of the readers in audio books. I began to love reading so much, I was determined to read on my own. I would get frustrated when I came across a word I didn't know, but I'm proud to say that I never gave up on it. I even reached the point where I'd ask my teachers if I could read books to the class. Seriously, I remember practicing reading this one book for about a week so that I could read it to my classmates. I had several favorite books, but one of my favorite was called Which One Would You Choose? It was just this cute little book where you would follow these two kids along as they made decisions throughout the day, such as what clothes they wanted to wear or what toy they wanted to play with. The author would tell what the two children had chosen, and then ask you which of the four options you would choose. Of course, my personal choice made no impact on the story, but I still really liked it. I guess I liked it for the same reason that kids like Dora the Explorer. You feel like your opinion is important, so I loved it.
Felicity sat down at the vanity, staring at the image in the mirror. She knew it was her reflection, but no matter how long she stared, it never felt right. She carefully studied her facial features. People were always intrigued with their sharpness. Felicity couldn't say she blamed them... she'd gone to great lengths to ensure that her face was one that no one would ever forget, not even the perfect strangers that she passed on the street. She'd never see them again, but they'd think about her for years. They loved her almond shaped eyes, adored her amber colored irises. They loved her voice, how every word she said came out with a sultry tone. They were enamored with the long, red hair that cascaded down her back. They worshipped her full, lipstick stained lips. They longed for her pneumatic figure.
She was perfect.
She couldn't hate it more. Felicity couldn't stop the tears from rolling down her face, "I loathe you," she muttered at her reflection. She gritted her teeth, "I HATE YOU!"
In a rage, she grabbed the nearest pair of scissors and began hacking away at the long, red hair that cascaded down her back. The long strands fell to the ground in beautiful little piles. Oh, how lovely the tears made her eyes look; the amber color twinkled and glowed.
She stared at the new image. Mangled red hair. Lines of mascara trailed down her face.
She smiled. Imperfection was beautiful.
So, I've been reading the sequel to Unwind. Initially I was concerned about how the quality of the book. Nothing against Neal Shusterman, but after the events that occurred in Unwind, it was going to be difficult for him to keep things as interesting. God, has UnWholly surprised me. Not only does it keep my interest in a vice grip like its predecessor did, but I feel like UnWholly even surpasses the first book. Things keep going like they should. Such as with Lev being targeted by clappers. I never considered this as a possibility, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. In the real world, he would be targeted by a terrorist group he had once been a part of and later abandoned. That's not something you can just walk away from. Shusterman doesn't just rehash the same story, though it would be very easy to do so, he actually builds onto it, the way that I talented writer should. I am loving every minute of this book, and I can't wait to see how it ends.
What must it have been like when the first tomboys emerged?
Marian stared at the image in the mirror, frowning in distaste. She hated everything about the image she saw, from the intricate bun on her head to the tiny waist created by the corset that was squeezing the life out of her. She knew it was wrong to feel this way, that it was improper. However, Marian had never loved the sophistication of a French noble's life. While her mother and sisters bad chattered in excitement about an upcoming opera, Marian had only been anxious to take her accursed corset off. It was torture.
Home at last, she was ready to be out of the restrictive clothing. She practically ripped the bun out, letting her hair all around her shoulders. The extravagant dress, jewelry, and corset soon suffered the same fate.
She hesitated as she reached for her nightgown. She'd had an idea. It was incredibly improper... but that's what made it interesting. She rummaged through the dresser in the corner of the room before finding what she was looking for: her father's old clothes. She pulled on the loose shirt and trousers. It was a welcome relief from her usual attire. As a final touch, she tied her hair into a ponytail, like the kind her father used to wear.
She smiled as she looked into the mirror. Was the image of a woman in man's clothing highly improper? Most definitely, but for the first time in her life, she was comfortable in her own skin.
"In our family portrait, we look pretty happy.We look pretty normal. Let's go back to that" - P!nk
Sarah busily dusted the portraits and knick-knacks that decorated the entertainment center in the living room. She picked up one of the few remaining pictures of her wedding. She sighed softly at the image; she had only been married to Nathan for seven years, but it felt like it had been eons since they'd been happy.
She gently stroked the image, smiling faintly. She missed the old Nathan.
Sarah brushed the dust off of the picture and set it back in its place. She picked up another picture. They'd taken their first and only family portrait a month after their son Anthony had been born. She felt tears form in her eyes as she looked at the image of her smiling husband's face. It had been years since she'd seen that smile...
"I'll get you back..." she whispered to herself. The tears flowed freely now, "I promise."
Jane stared down at the crumpled list for the nth time. At the top of the page, written in her sloppy cursive, was the title "Objective: Stop Being a Hermit." Most people simply wrote our their new year's resolutions. This just wasn't in Jane's power. Any goal or list she made for herself always ended up sounding like a quest on one of her MMORPGs. With a slight grimace, she forced herself to read the list again.
Objective: Stop Being a Hermit
Mission 1: Distance self from MMORPGs
She glanced longingly at her laptop, purposely shut so she couldn't see the League of Legends icon on her desktop. She sighed and looked back down at the list again. So far, her first mission was a success, though she could swear she was going through some strange form of withdrawal.
Mission 2: Open the curtains
Jane glared at the the window that hovered over her desk. The so-called "healthy" and "rejuvenating" sunlight streamed distastefully through, lighting up the room. At least the blasted stuff made the area immediately around her laptop less appealing. Another success, for the most part.
Mission 3: Go outside
Andddd here was the problem. Her bedroom door was open, but that was as far as she could get. She twiddled her fingers nervously as she got off of her bed. Okay... this was it. No more quitting. She'd finally be able to complete her objective. Sure, she'd have to find friends and such later, but that wasn't on the list, so that was something to worry about later.
Out of the hallway... now in the living room. There is was. The front door was waiting there for her. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest as she gently turned the door knob and pulled it open.
It was so... bright. There were a bunch of kids and teenagers running outside. They were loud. Jane stared at what looked like pure entropy to her for a moment, before daring to step out into the sun. Her foot touched the pavement and she beamed with pride. "OBJECTIVE COMPLETED!" she cried in triumph, attracting the confused looks of the other kids.
She stepped back inside, slamming the door behind her. She strode through the living room, down the hallway, and into her room. She shut the door and closed the accursed curtains. The laptop was opened and LOL was loaded up. She pulled on her headphones and threw the hood of her hoodie over top of it, "PlainJane is back, boys!"