On the flipside, a more serious note, I also really liked writing the childrens story. I wrote a story called Alice the Camel, and it was long and drawn out, and gave me a small sliver of hope that maybe one day I could write children's stories. I probably never would, but I enjoyed writing it and felt mildly proud of the silly story.
The first peice of writing that Mrs. Fraser required for us to be at least 750 words or more was for Halloween and was a horror story. I enjoyed writing this one because of the fat that it was longer and because of such it had more of a plot. I wrote about a French brothel in which a woman gets brutally murdered. I liked (sounding as least morbid as possible) letting a darker side of me write such nighmares. There was something neat about being the creator of that.
But blog posts were not the only writings we did in here. We had to comment on others peices sometimes, and my favorite comments were between my friend Trevor and I on our friend Jordans blog. It was something about his Halloween peice as well, which was about a serial killer guy who killed his wife. Trevor talked about how the guy in the story was such a great guy. Where I replied that, 'he seemed like a really great guy as well, and that i have a crush on him.' and trevor replied, 'yeah, well you better get in line. I bet the ladies are lining up for a winner like that.' And I simply stated, "make way for the queen." And that was the day we got little done and laughed for a very long time about that comment.
Another peice of writing I really enjoyed, for obvious reasons, was our writing as a gift post. And it wasn't mine I enjoyed but Desiree's instead. She wrote a letter to me declaring her love and talked about friendship since 5th grade. It was very moving to me because my family didn't really celebrate Christmas this year and I was really lonely and depressed. I opened up the letter and read it and it made me really happy. It's also more or less kind of rare to get Desiree to show all that emotion. So it meant a lot more to me than I would be able to admit.
2.)A couple of peices that I have read this semester really stuck with me. One of them was by my amazing teacher, Mrs. Fraser. I don't really know why I liked it so much, or why it stuck with me, but the writing was for the picture that inspired us. I kept thinking about the lines, "I didn't know/ if his favorite color /was red or blue/ if he liked/ Italian or Chinese."
Another peice of writing I read this semester was my friend Trevors. It was his Halloween peice entitled: The Yellow Submarine. It was about a guy who stalked a girl and kidnapped her and forced her to live in a submarine with him for a long time until he eventually killed him.
Another peice of writing we read as a class was entitled:Dream Marks On My Pillow by Ana Lancu. I really liked learning about the dream section in our class. It was interesting and really did bring some interesting things to write about.
3.)Setting up my blog was quite the experience. The reason being was because in middle school (dark times) I had a cliche thing where I thought I could write really well, and poety, and angsty music. So I had actually already set up a blogger account in 7th grade with me just venting about silly drama between friends. It was really dumb and anything involving middle school years, i try to avoid. But after trying to nervously delete my old middle school blog, I made my current blog for this class without hassle. I found it to be reather simple because I go on a website called Tumblr more often than I probably should. Tumblr is a blog site, but not like what you would think. So I was used to editing html and changing my theme, and gifs, and whatnot. As far as the really stupid name for my blog; eggplantpotato is also my url for my tumblr blog. Because tumblr is very popular and all the good urls are already taken, sadly. I may or may not continue using the blog. Probably if I need someone to talk to and I need to vent. Or sometimes I'll write just to write. So that may happen. It just depends. The future holds the answer.
4.) We wrote a lot in our journal. In fact, I was afraid that I wouldn't have enough room in my journal for this entire class. I probably won't continue journaling in that journal, but maybe in my own journal at home. I only write in it if things are pretty bad. But I will probably write about my feelings and emotions and opinions. Normal journal things. I wouldn't really want anyone to read it unless I died.
5.) "If I'd known who he really was, I wouldn't have fallen in love. If I'd known who he really was, I wouldn't have tried so hard. If I would have known who he really was I wouldn't have considered his father, my father. Or his brother, my brother. And I wouldn;t have bought a puppy with him or gathered apartment items with him or cried as much as I did for three whole years. I wouldn't have gone to Disney or Arkansas or any of the other adventures I also fell in love with. If I'd have known who he really was, I would have listened to my friends and ended it all. But I didn't."
6.) Section from a notable peice: Famous Lines Peice
The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new. It was like no matter what happened in the world, the sun did not seem to care. I'm not Brad Pitt or Will Smith and this was definitely no Hollywood film, so I'm not sure why I expected it to be gloomy and rainy and to look like the world was ending. I believe it's because that is how I feel inside. Even though physically, all is good in the world, my world, today, has ended. But I'm also torn. Today my world has just begun, but is incomplete. The nurses walked by with looks of sorrow and pain on their face when they saw me. Whispers were flying as I sat there, waiting for the baby, the child, MY child to be weighed and taken care of. Tears were flying and I, a madman all alone in this world, did not know how to keep composure or stay together because I have never felt so incomplete in my whole life. As I heard another nurse come by, anxiously out of habit, i looked, stared into their eyes, trying to discover hope. Trying to finally have someone turn into a giraffe and everything just be a big silly dream that i wake up from. I'll wake up, at about 6:45 AM, to my beautiful pregnant wife, hold her, and everything will be okay. But my dreaming was woken up but the harsh sound of a crying reality. Literally, down the hall, comes a younger nurse, carrying the only light of hope in my world. Kicking, crying and screaming was a little 6 pound 8 ounce red child,. I looked, first, into the nurses eyes, he shook his head, as all the other nurses seemed to do. Confronting me though, speaking words like, "I'm so sorry, but she didn't make it. We will need to speak about legal matters...lawyers...attorneys..." and it all became a blur as i lost it yet again. Tear streaming down my cheeks, identical to my child, my son. There we were, both crying alone in this hospital, for the loss of a beautiful mother and the most amazing woman I had ever come to meet in my life. My other half, and more importantly, this little child's other half; missing. But yet, there we both were, mourning together, crying for the love we won't have anymore, the tenderness and adoration. It was a fine cry- loud and long- but it had no bottom and it had no top, just circles and circles of sorrow.
7.)I plan to do mroe creative writing sometime in the future. It seems like something I will do when I'm married and have children and need an escape. Something I will ditch for like 10+ years and then come back to and re fall in love with. But I like the way creative writing just lets me get things out. It feels good to just sit down and sort out the things in your mind, and dream things up, and let it all flow on to paper. It doesn't need to make sense, but it gets to come out and just spil everywhere. And I like that. Its different than writing a biography and a guy who died multiple hundreds of years ago. Its different than an English honors class and BS-ing five paragraph essays the night before it's due date. Its writing for yourself and Thats what I like about it.
8.) And to my fellow writers that have been with me this quarter, Thanks. Thanks for putting up with my tired morning, and really bad puns. Thanks for putting up with me drooling over every shirtless boy in a magazine and coming to school just to complain about school and finished my work for College Sats in that hour. I grew pretty close to you guys and we can all agree that creative writing was the best class ever and I'm happy I got to do it senior year with some really great people. Crying about band together in first block, what else could possibly describe friendship better?! In general, you guys are amazing people. I've learned many thing about you guys and wish I could have the pleasure of seeing you more. I will miss you guys after I graduate this year. The happy parts of highschool and I will think of this class and the people in it, making it really amazing. So thank you. time a million. Good Luck staying alive after this class by the way. I will suffer too, don't worry.
9.) ok.
