I'm in a creative writing class this semester again. I'm not sure if I've mentioned that already but if not, there you are. I've learned a whole heck of a lot about writing just in the half of a semester I've been in it. One of our textbooks is "Writing Fiction" by Janet Burroway and I highly recommend it if you're thinking about writing. It's got some really good stuff. Anywho, I wrote in an earlier post a segment from a story I wrote called Merriam and Ernest. I wrote it over a year ago, I think, and reading back over it this semester I kind of hated the way it was written. So I revised it. Obviously it's still a work in progress but I think it's come a long way from the first draft. I talked to my professor about it and he's told me the main thing I need to fix, which I agree with and I'll probably get around to it eventually. Maybe not for another year! I'm such a procrastinator. All pacing issues aside, here is the revised first half of Merriam and Ernest:
My name is Merriam Entwistle and I am going to die.
I’m standing at the door of Death’s cab and all I need to do is pull the handle… I can’t quite bring myself to do it yet, but it’s only a matter of time. What brought me to this point? Sure, I’ll tell you. I won’t tell you all of it; I’ll spare you the gory details; no one should have to carry that on their shoulders. You see where it’s gotten me? You see how it’s pushed me to the brink of destruction? I broke people that I couldn’t put back together, myself included. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men-- you know? I’ve never appreciated that story quite like I do now. Death is waiting in the taxi for me but I think he’ll have to wait. Someone needs to know.
Fall.
The year is 2010. Merriam is 22 years old and she has never been in love. Vulnerability is not in her vocabulary. She triumphs in breaking hearts and has never been ashamed of that fact. She has decided that she is the epitome of sovereignty. The balmy sunshine reflects off of her skin as she lies in the courtyard of her musty 2 bedroom flat. The last breeze of summer blows her hair all around her face like tentacles and she closes her eyes. Winter will be an awful juxtaposition after such a lovely season. She thinks only of the sun on her skin; feels it in every molecule of her soul, throughout every bone, vein and muscle. She imagines the color yellow slowly soaking through her body. It starts in her heart and flows like an ethereal liquid through her arms, legs, fingers, toes, covering her in a blanket of bullion. She is a golden statue.
Suddenly, a weight hits her leg. It is not a heavy weight, but the surprise catches her off guard and the magic yellow rushes out of her all at once. Her eyes open to see a plastic disk, scratched and encrusted with dirt, on the ground a few inches to the right of her leg. She looks around to find the culprit and her eyes find another pair: cool, spring green.
“Hey,” A boy, at least he looks young enough to be a boy, jogs over to her and she watches him as he stoops to grab the Frisbee. “Sorry about that…Did you, uh, wanna play?” He flicks the flaxen hair out of his eyes and gives her a toothy grin. Suddenly the color floods back into her body, only this time it is green.
Winter.
Merriam pulls her coat down over her hands to protect them from the biting cold and puffs warm air into the end of each sleeve. Ernest trots along beside her like an eager puppy. They have been inseparable since the very first moment their eyes met. They were Bonnie and Clyde, Batman and Robin, Johnny and June. They gossip, they laugh, they whisper; ‘inseparable’ never had meaning to her before now. They are an endless ring of eternity, forever and always.
Their shoes tap the sidewalk with every step. Ti-tap ti-tap, ti-tap ti-tap. She asks about the best Christmas gift he’s ever gotten and he tells her about the time his parents gave him a fake lottery ticket.
“I really thought it was real,” he says “I almost started crying. That’s how excited I was.”
“That’s horrible!” Merriam shivers as she wipes laughter from her eyes with her sleeve.
“What about yours?” Ernest meets her eyes and her cheeks bloom.
“I can’t remember my last real Christmas. After my mother died, Dad just stays in his room all day. Sometimes even for Boxing Day.”
Ernest grabs her sleeve-covered hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll have one this year.” His smile is warm and pink.
They walk in thoughtful silence around the park behind her flat. Almost every day, they walk and they talk about something new as the trees beside their path lean in to listen. When the wind blows, Merriam swears she can hear them giggling along with her. The last leaves of the season litter the ground in broken, scattered masses. There is no crunch left in them but Merriam steps on them anyway, just in case, as she looks across the desolate expanse of the park. The swings hang pathetically, wasting time until they can hear the sound of children’s laughter again. Flat, grey canvas covers up the sun and traps the frigid winter in the world below. Merriam doesn’t remember what it feels like to have thawed toes.
“Have you ever been in love?” Earnest says. He keeps his eyes on the ground.
“Nah, I haven’t. It all seems like a lot of hoopla to me. People think they’re in love and then their wives cheat on them or their husbands never come home from work.” After thirty yards of silence, Merriam knows Ernest does not share her view. “Have you?”
“Twice. Twice, I thought I was.”
“You thought?”
Ernest smiles. “I thought. Once in high school but she cheated on me with my cousin and told me she had never loved me. The second time was…” He watches the swings rock thoughtfully in the wind. “Well I guess, uh, she didn’t return my sentiments.”
“See? Hoopla.” They chuckle. Fifty yards and halfway around the park later, Merriam catches his eyes on her face. He jerks his head slightly but changes his mind a fraction of a second later and continues to watch her.
“Your lips are turning blue. Let’s get you home.”
Spring.
The weather is finally warm again. Every day after class at the community college, Merriam does homework in the courtyard on her quilt. Ernest makes her dinner every couple days after work and they laugh at Will and Grace reruns. Tonight it was shepherd’s pie.
“I’b neber had Sheberd’s Bie before!” She says a few bites into the meal.
“Do you love it?”
“Yef, I do!”
Ernest wipes his plate clean with a slice of bread and Merriam grabs the serving spoon. “Want some more?”
“Merri, what am I to you?” He abruptly takes his eyes from his plate to meet her gaze.
“Wha?” Her hand freezes on the spoon.
“What am I to you?”
“D-did you want any more pie?”
“Are we just really good friends?”
“It’s still kinda warm…it’s always better on the first day.”
“Mer?”
She looks blankly at him and her eyes flick down to her hand on the spoon. Ernest rises from his chair and closes the distance between them with one stride. His hand rests on her cheek and he coaxes her face up to look at his. His eyes dart back and forth between hers, pleading for answers. Slowly, ever so slowly, he crouches down until his lips are just a paper’s breadth from hers. Her hands tense and her brows knit together as Ernest presses them to hers. The scent of too much cologne paws at her nose. Time seems to stop, if only for those 2.9 brief seconds.
Merriam closes her eyes and her mind goes blank. Just good friends, she thought. Hadn’t she just been thinking about how platonic they were? Wasn’t she just delighted with how easy they could be? Reshape the mold of their relationship? Could she do it? Could she? Well? It all seems like a lot of hoopla to me. Her own words run through her mind. She takes his love, like a pebble, and locks it away in the back of her mind; her treasure chest. When she can’t see it, it can no longer worry her.
An emotion flickers across Ernest’s face but before she can decipher what it is, he hides it. “Goodnight Merriam.” He stops to take a last look at the back of her head before closing the door, leaving her alone in the flat.
Summer.
At first, they don’t see each other at all. Not for a couple weeks. Then they talk about the weather. Eventually she gives a sincere, hearty laugh at one of his jokes and he beams. She never does mention the kiss to him again. She wonders if he has thought about it at all. As summer progresses, the rip in the tapestry of their friendship mends. They are best friends again, on and on and on.
“Do you remember when I told you I’d been in love twice?”
“Yes?” Merriam glances sideways at him and presses her lips together.
“Did I ever tell you about the second time?”
“You said a girl in high school cheated on you and that the other girl didn’t feel the same about you.”
Ernest is silent. All but his hand, doodling absently on a napkin with her favorite blue marker, is carved from stone.
“His name was Kyle.”
Monday, October 29, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
Denver
So I wrote...and it's really dark again. I guess I just like to write about things I don't understand very well to try to understand them. There was a reason I wrote it and I really hope that if anyone guesses the reason, they don't find it disrespectful or irreverent. I was only using writing to explore an idea I'm unfamiliar with. Do I like it? Well, I just don't know!
Humming fills the tiny bathroom. It is an eerie, doleful tune of times come and gone. It doesn’t come from a fan, a light fixture, a pipe; it floats out of the breathless lungs of a man. He stares at his reflection in the chipped mirror that graces nearly every college dorm in America. His face is gaunt and lifeless. The mirror looks back at him. Every emotion he feels is reflected there. The mirror pities him all the way to his very core. It looks into his eyes, traces the shape of his face. His cheeks, at one time so rosy, now hollow. His lips hang slack, although usually pinned up in the permanent goofy grin that so many people know him by. Where there were once endless oceans of blue, only flat, grey iris remains. The mirror glances quickly down to his hand before bouncing back up to his eyes. His fingers are clutched around a cold, hard object no larger than one of the many screenplays that has come to define him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He whispers. A note of desperation hangs on his tongue. He tries to swallow it but it gets caught in his throat and he coughs to clear it out. His breath comes out raggedly. His heart beats wildly. His hands shake uncontrollably. “Stop it.” He pleads. “Stop looking at me.” The mirror averts its gaze apologetically. It glances again at his hand. He moves it off the counter, out of view. Guilt threatens to engulf him but he pushes it away. He made a decision. Nothing is going to stop him. He can’t let anything stop him. He continues to hum.
He closes his eyes and is transported back to a place that wasn’t so dark. He feels the stage beneath his feet. The smell of freshly painted plywood fills him up. A huge spotlight shines down right on him. Thousands watch as he turns into someone else. He is Curly. He is the Phantom. He is Beast. He is anyone he wants to be. He can make them feel anything he needs them to; sadness, happiness, tension, anger. He makes them feel like part of his world. They make him feel alive. He opens his eyes and the audience disappears. The stage, the lights, the houses and rooms on wheels all disappear. It’s only him and the mirror. Those times and those people seem so very far away. He wonders if his name ever crosses their mind.
He thinks of people to keep his mind off what he’s about to do.
His grip tightens on the object in his hand.
He thinks of his friends, now all over the country striving to become something.
His hand pulls above the countertop; the mirror gasps.
He thinks of his first love, married to another man.
His chin rests gently on top of the cool metal.
He thinks of his sister, just about to graduate high school.
His skin aches from the pressure as his finger settles on the trigger.
He thinks of his parents. His mother. Her face fills his mind. He can visualize the way her petite eyebrows knit together in confusion when he does something she doesn’t understand. If she could see him now, her eyebrows would knit together. He was sure of it. He felt guilty that he didn’t explain it to her; couldn’t explain it. He left no reasons or justifications, only one small piece of scratch paper that read “There is no one to blame.” That’s really all he could think to write. That one sentence followed by his name: Denver.
Humming fills the tiny bathroom. It is an eerie, doleful tune of times come and gone. It doesn’t come from a fan, a light fixture, a pipe; it floats out of the breathless lungs of a man. He stares at his reflection in the chipped mirror that graces nearly every college dorm in America. His face is gaunt and lifeless. The mirror looks back at him. Every emotion he feels is reflected there. The mirror pities him all the way to his very core. It looks into his eyes, traces the shape of his face. His cheeks, at one time so rosy, now hollow. His lips hang slack, although usually pinned up in the permanent goofy grin that so many people know him by. Where there were once endless oceans of blue, only flat, grey iris remains. The mirror glances quickly down to his hand before bouncing back up to his eyes. His fingers are clutched around a cold, hard object no larger than one of the many screenplays that has come to define him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He whispers. A note of desperation hangs on his tongue. He tries to swallow it but it gets caught in his throat and he coughs to clear it out. His breath comes out raggedly. His heart beats wildly. His hands shake uncontrollably. “Stop it.” He pleads. “Stop looking at me.” The mirror averts its gaze apologetically. It glances again at his hand. He moves it off the counter, out of view. Guilt threatens to engulf him but he pushes it away. He made a decision. Nothing is going to stop him. He can’t let anything stop him. He continues to hum.
He closes his eyes and is transported back to a place that wasn’t so dark. He feels the stage beneath his feet. The smell of freshly painted plywood fills him up. A huge spotlight shines down right on him. Thousands watch as he turns into someone else. He is Curly. He is the Phantom. He is Beast. He is anyone he wants to be. He can make them feel anything he needs them to; sadness, happiness, tension, anger. He makes them feel like part of his world. They make him feel alive. He opens his eyes and the audience disappears. The stage, the lights, the houses and rooms on wheels all disappear. It’s only him and the mirror. Those times and those people seem so very far away. He wonders if his name ever crosses their mind.
He thinks of people to keep his mind off what he’s about to do.
His grip tightens on the object in his hand.
He thinks of his friends, now all over the country striving to become something.
His hand pulls above the countertop; the mirror gasps.
He thinks of his first love, married to another man.
His chin rests gently on top of the cool metal.
He thinks of his sister, just about to graduate high school.
His skin aches from the pressure as his finger settles on the trigger.
He thinks of his parents. His mother. Her face fills his mind. He can visualize the way her petite eyebrows knit together in confusion when he does something she doesn’t understand. If she could see him now, her eyebrows would knit together. He was sure of it. He felt guilty that he didn’t explain it to her; couldn’t explain it. He left no reasons or justifications, only one small piece of scratch paper that read “There is no one to blame.” That’s really all he could think to write. That one sentence followed by his name: Denver.
Monday, February 27, 2012
It's All About Us
I haven't written in foreverrrrr. I haven't written in this blog or at all. How very odd of me! I need to set aside some time every week to just write. Or take another creative writing class, since I liked it so much. Maybe I will!
This summer was one of the best of my life. Probably in the top 3 along with last summer's family vacation to Colorado. Fall was a lot of fun too. Davi and I can really party when we're together. I met a lot of cool people and learned a lot about myself. It's like all that time before was another lifetime or a dream. I suppose that's how I'm going to feel for the rest of my life. This semester is...winter...haha. I work at Charming Charlie, where it takes me 4 hours to earn as much money as my dad makes in about 25 minutes. I think I work there mostly for the social benefits. Sitting in the house all the time would turn me into a crazy person. Aside from that, I spend a lot of time talking to my wondermus boyfriend!
Three days after my last blog entry, I went to California with my roommate and met Jonathan Phillipson! And now we're dating and he is the coolest guy I've ever known! I think I'll make this blog entry about us so that anyone who wants to be in on the story can be, especially my family (some of whom seem to think I'm getting married and forgot to tell them?? haha)
Davi and I decided to live together during the summer and fall and she wanted to go visit her family for a week in the summer so she invited me to go. We went to california and the Saturday that we were there she said she was going to invite her friend to go to the movies with us and that friend was Jonathan! The 3 of us went to get sushi and then went to see the Harry Potter movie. He and I got along so well; we just hit it off right away! I totally had a crush on him (and yes, he has a british accent. I loved it, and I still do!). Monday the 3 of us spent the whole day at Disneyland and on the ride home, Davi fell asleep in the back of the car so he and I just got to talk all the way home. We found out we had a lot of things in common (like we both sleep with a pillow over our face, we hate peanut butter and hate cherry flavored candy but love the actual cherry fruit) and it was so fun to talk to him. Davi was being a little matchmaker so she got him to take off work on that Wednesday to take me on a date. We walked around a shopping center, a mall, Half Price Books, ate at the Cheesecake Factory and we had so much fun just talking and goofing off. He was totally flirting with me! [: At the end of the date, he dropped me back off at Davi's house and got my phone number. We left California that night and I came home to Texas for 2 weeks. We text every day and played "the question game" so we got to know a lot about each other. He made plans to come visit us in Rexburg over thanksgiving break and eventually we got into a routine where we talked on the phone at least once a day and had a skype date once a week. It was really cool that we started out with a long distance relationship because the only thing we could do was talk so we got to know a lot about each other before it was physical in any way (we were dating for almost 3 months before we kissed!). We probably know each other better than a lot of couples that live in the same town. He came to visit over thanksgiving and, even though it was only the first time we'd seen each other since summer, it wasn't awkward at all. We were super excited to see each other and we were pretty inseparable the whole week. It was hard when he left but I finished the semester and came back home for my really exciting 3 month winter break (which I'm currently in the midst of). He took a 2 day train ride (crazy kid) to Texas and stayed in our trailer for 2 weeks. We had so much fun and I can't believe it was only the second time we were actually together as a couple. To date, we've only spent 24 days together but it feels like I've known him my whole life.
He's my best friend. We talk about everything and I've never been able to talk to someone about everything before. We've been dating for almost 6 months...the time has flown by! He's been such a blessing in my life and I love him dearly. And no, we aren't getting married any time soon!! (haha) but I'm excited to see what's in the future for us. Besides everything else, I'm a better person because of him.
This summer was one of the best of my life. Probably in the top 3 along with last summer's family vacation to Colorado. Fall was a lot of fun too. Davi and I can really party when we're together. I met a lot of cool people and learned a lot about myself. It's like all that time before was another lifetime or a dream. I suppose that's how I'm going to feel for the rest of my life. This semester is...winter...haha. I work at Charming Charlie, where it takes me 4 hours to earn as much money as my dad makes in about 25 minutes. I think I work there mostly for the social benefits. Sitting in the house all the time would turn me into a crazy person. Aside from that, I spend a lot of time talking to my wondermus boyfriend!
Three days after my last blog entry, I went to California with my roommate and met Jonathan Phillipson! And now we're dating and he is the coolest guy I've ever known! I think I'll make this blog entry about us so that anyone who wants to be in on the story can be, especially my family (some of whom seem to think I'm getting married and forgot to tell them?? haha)
Davi and I decided to live together during the summer and fall and she wanted to go visit her family for a week in the summer so she invited me to go. We went to california and the Saturday that we were there she said she was going to invite her friend to go to the movies with us and that friend was Jonathan! The 3 of us went to get sushi and then went to see the Harry Potter movie. He and I got along so well; we just hit it off right away! I totally had a crush on him (and yes, he has a british accent. I loved it, and I still do!). Monday the 3 of us spent the whole day at Disneyland and on the ride home, Davi fell asleep in the back of the car so he and I just got to talk all the way home. We found out we had a lot of things in common (like we both sleep with a pillow over our face, we hate peanut butter and hate cherry flavored candy but love the actual cherry fruit) and it was so fun to talk to him. Davi was being a little matchmaker so she got him to take off work on that Wednesday to take me on a date. We walked around a shopping center, a mall, Half Price Books, ate at the Cheesecake Factory and we had so much fun just talking and goofing off. He was totally flirting with me! [: At the end of the date, he dropped me back off at Davi's house and got my phone number. We left California that night and I came home to Texas for 2 weeks. We text every day and played "the question game" so we got to know a lot about each other. He made plans to come visit us in Rexburg over thanksgiving break and eventually we got into a routine where we talked on the phone at least once a day and had a skype date once a week. It was really cool that we started out with a long distance relationship because the only thing we could do was talk so we got to know a lot about each other before it was physical in any way (we were dating for almost 3 months before we kissed!). We probably know each other better than a lot of couples that live in the same town. He came to visit over thanksgiving and, even though it was only the first time we'd seen each other since summer, it wasn't awkward at all. We were super excited to see each other and we were pretty inseparable the whole week. It was hard when he left but I finished the semester and came back home for my really exciting 3 month winter break (which I'm currently in the midst of). He took a 2 day train ride (crazy kid) to Texas and stayed in our trailer for 2 weeks. We had so much fun and I can't believe it was only the second time we were actually together as a couple. To date, we've only spent 24 days together but it feels like I've known him my whole life.
He's my best friend. We talk about everything and I've never been able to talk to someone about everything before. We've been dating for almost 6 months...the time has flown by! He's been such a blessing in my life and I love him dearly. And no, we aren't getting married any time soon!! (haha) but I'm excited to see what's in the future for us. Besides everything else, I'm a better person because of him.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Ivory Octopus
Oh hey, didn't see you there. I guess I haven't written a blog in a while. Tisk Tisk. The past couple of weeks were kinda crazy but it's settled down quite a bit now. I had finals week to worry about and moving to do. I'm staying in the same apartment complex for summer and fall semester and I wanted a change so I moved all my junk upstairs. We have 6 people in our apartment, which isn't unusual for fall but it is for summer. We all get along really well though and I like all of them. Everyone is a little different but we mesh well together. Even though it's just the very first week of summer, we've already accomplished a lot, including errand running, canal swimming, tie-dyeing, wackee 6 playing, and Davi and I discovered the tanning bed. We actually did it for the second time yesterday. She stayed in for 15 minutes and got this nice little tan and I stayed in for 6 and got this nice little...red. I guess you could call it a burn. I look darker because of the slight redness, so it's not so red that you can tell it's a burn. I am afeared that once the red goes away, however, that I will just go back to normal white. I'm sure some of you are thinking "Jessi, you are going to get skin cancer. Don't go tanning ever again." and to you I say "I know, I know. I'm a doctor too." I'm being careful. It's amusing to be white sometimes but during the summer I can literally blind people with how very pasty I really am. Why couldn't I have just been born back in the day when curly dark hair and fair skin was the thing? Maybe I'll just go live in Thailand. They bleach their skin to get it whiter.
Anywho, I don't really have any super cool writing to share with you. I did write a poem for class but I pretty much hate writing poetry 1) because it always ends up sounding dumb and 2) because I'm not good at it and, if you remember, I don't like trying to do things I'm not good at. I can write funny poetry but when things start getting serious, I run away. Perhaps just for kicks I'll stick my poem on the end of this blog. In the mean time, I would like to point out the stark reality of the possibility of falling in love with fictional characters. It *is* possible. I know you're wondering if this is an autobiography. Well it's not, exactly. If you look around you at all the Twilight fan-girls and Harry Potter nuts, you will see that what I'm saying is true. You can fall in love with someone who doesn't exist. Take Finn from Glee, for example. They tell you his story. They develop his character. You see him in the show about as much as you would see him in real life if you were a member of their little fictional world. You could, very plausibly, develop feelings for him because you feel like you know him. You are in love with Finn (not Cory Monteith, who is a real person, but his *fictional* character, Finn). That's what the producers and directors and authors want! They want you to have feelings for these people who don't exist so you'll become invested in what their doing. If you're reading a book and you don't care whether the main character gets the girl or dies a horrible, painful death, you wont read it again and you'll probably tell your friends to come to a book burning party with you. It's a cruel reality, really. Lonely girls left and right are dreaming of what their lives would be like if they could only have Edward Cullen or Harry Potter or Finn or whatshisface from whatever he's from. Just throwin that out there.
Poem. I hate it. The end.
Ivory Octopus
Piano girl,
and her cello boy;
a melodious duet.
The piano and the cello
unite in stunning perfection.
Her hands dance wildly across the keyboard,
striving to keep pace with the music
like an ivory octopus
darting across
an acrylic ocean floor,
tentacles surging
with the waves of the song,
left and right
so fast you can’t believe
they’re only hands.
The audience listens
on the edge of their seats
while the melody lifts them
on an atmospheric chariot
into a place between here and there.
Streams of musical air
float all around
and lift them up
through the ceiling.
The room is empty.
Only the piano and the cello remain,
communing together
in an endless dimension
where music is the only language.
Anywho, I don't really have any super cool writing to share with you. I did write a poem for class but I pretty much hate writing poetry 1) because it always ends up sounding dumb and 2) because I'm not good at it and, if you remember, I don't like trying to do things I'm not good at. I can write funny poetry but when things start getting serious, I run away. Perhaps just for kicks I'll stick my poem on the end of this blog. In the mean time, I would like to point out the stark reality of the possibility of falling in love with fictional characters. It *is* possible. I know you're wondering if this is an autobiography. Well it's not, exactly. If you look around you at all the Twilight fan-girls and Harry Potter nuts, you will see that what I'm saying is true. You can fall in love with someone who doesn't exist. Take Finn from Glee, for example. They tell you his story. They develop his character. You see him in the show about as much as you would see him in real life if you were a member of their little fictional world. You could, very plausibly, develop feelings for him because you feel like you know him. You are in love with Finn (not Cory Monteith, who is a real person, but his *fictional* character, Finn). That's what the producers and directors and authors want! They want you to have feelings for these people who don't exist so you'll become invested in what their doing. If you're reading a book and you don't care whether the main character gets the girl or dies a horrible, painful death, you wont read it again and you'll probably tell your friends to come to a book burning party with you. It's a cruel reality, really. Lonely girls left and right are dreaming of what their lives would be like if they could only have Edward Cullen or Harry Potter or Finn or whatshisface from whatever he's from. Just throwin that out there.
Poem. I hate it. The end.
Ivory Octopus
Piano girl,
and her cello boy;
a melodious duet.
The piano and the cello
unite in stunning perfection.
Her hands dance wildly across the keyboard,
striving to keep pace with the music
like an ivory octopus
darting across
an acrylic ocean floor,
tentacles surging
with the waves of the song,
left and right
so fast you can’t believe
they’re only hands.
The audience listens
on the edge of their seats
while the melody lifts them
on an atmospheric chariot
into a place between here and there.
Streams of musical air
float all around
and lift them up
through the ceiling.
The room is empty.
Only the piano and the cello remain,
communing together
in an endless dimension
where music is the only language.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Fashion Oracle
I finished writing Merriam and Ernest! Perhaps I'll give it a different name now that it's done. I don't know and for some reason I'm really picky about who I let read it. I think only 2 people aside from me have read the entire finished thing. Maybe I'll get over that because I think it's pretty cool; much more interesting when you get the whole thing, rather than just the end.
On an unrelated note I would just like to add that it feels like summer in Rexburg. We've had an accumulation of gorgeous days this week and I want the 7 week break to begin right *now*.
On a second unrelated note, I have to train a yearling for my Animal Handling class. We have 3 weeks to get them up to par (easily caught and saddled, let you clean all 4 feet, yada yada) and, quite honestly, I'm a little nervous. One of our mares is really sweet. She's a red roan and she already lets you touch her legs and stuff. The black mare is a turd. She pins her ears back every time you even try to get near her. I want to name them Strawberry Avalanche and Kamikaze (See what you've done to me?? You know who you are...) I'm probably going to die. It sounds really cool though, right? Not the dying thing. The training thing.
This week's writing is brought to you by...Zebra cakes. They're so good, I could eat 50 in one sitting. In fact, I could probably live off of Zebra Cakes and sour Gummy worms for the rest of my life. Anyway, I wrote this last year in my ACC class thingy (that's Austin Community College for you non-Texans). We were learning about satire and I think it was that we got extra credit if we wrote one. Maybe. I don't remember. So, without further ado, here it is:
Beauty has been one of society’s greatest obsessions since the dawn of time. Everyone wants to be in on the newest fashions or have the most contemporary hairstyles; some even spend thousands of dollars a year on cosmetics and designer clothing. Recent breakthroughs in medicine and technology have even allowed people to alter their physical appearance through cosmetic surgeries. Civilization’s most recent fad is the result of one such breakthrough. This new sensation is feeding the appetites of some of Hollywood’s biggest stars, as well as many of our own humble citizens. Scientists have successfully begun giving people what they want: Third Eye.
Third Eye, in addition to being the new favorite accessory of thousands, has become a beacon in the fashion industry of all that is and all that is yet to come. In order to obtain this superb seer stone, surgeons simply remove a small portion of the skull, which acts as an additional socket. They then cut out a tiny fraction of the brain, but this piece is “insignificant,” says Dr. Lou D Cruss. “Humans hardly use that section anymore.” Surgeons then take the eye from a saline solution and “pop” it right into the newly carved socket. Daily upkeep includes nothing more than specially prescribed eye-drops a few times each day.
“I love it,” says one happy receiver of this fashion forward fad. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Another fashionista says of the ornament:
“It’s great how they let you pick the eye color. You can match it to your own, or choose that color you’ve always wanted.”
Although vision is not yet available with Third Eye, advances in science are not far behind the people’s demands. Scientists are working with a newly assembled research organization called ‘Let There Be Sight!’ in order to accomplish their goal of granting vision to those with Third Eye.
To those critics of Third Eye, Dr. Cruss says this: “It’s just like getting a tattoo. It’s a way for people to express themselves and if others can’t see that, they aren’t going to fit in with our ever changing society.” Dr. Cruss has also made it clear to critics and fans alike that anyone who changes their mind about Third Eye can always have it removed and the gap closed up.
There are hardly any consequences to speak of and the possibilities are endless with Third Eye. Call your local plastic surgeon and get yours today!
P.S. Guess what the frontal lobe is used for
On an unrelated note I would just like to add that it feels like summer in Rexburg. We've had an accumulation of gorgeous days this week and I want the 7 week break to begin right *now*.
On a second unrelated note, I have to train a yearling for my Animal Handling class. We have 3 weeks to get them up to par (easily caught and saddled, let you clean all 4 feet, yada yada) and, quite honestly, I'm a little nervous. One of our mares is really sweet. She's a red roan and she already lets you touch her legs and stuff. The black mare is a turd. She pins her ears back every time you even try to get near her. I want to name them Strawberry Avalanche and Kamikaze (See what you've done to me?? You know who you are...) I'm probably going to die. It sounds really cool though, right? Not the dying thing. The training thing.
This week's writing is brought to you by...Zebra cakes. They're so good, I could eat 50 in one sitting. In fact, I could probably live off of Zebra Cakes and sour Gummy worms for the rest of my life. Anyway, I wrote this last year in my ACC class thingy (that's Austin Community College for you non-Texans). We were learning about satire and I think it was that we got extra credit if we wrote one. Maybe. I don't remember. So, without further ado, here it is:
Beauty has been one of society’s greatest obsessions since the dawn of time. Everyone wants to be in on the newest fashions or have the most contemporary hairstyles; some even spend thousands of dollars a year on cosmetics and designer clothing. Recent breakthroughs in medicine and technology have even allowed people to alter their physical appearance through cosmetic surgeries. Civilization’s most recent fad is the result of one such breakthrough. This new sensation is feeding the appetites of some of Hollywood’s biggest stars, as well as many of our own humble citizens. Scientists have successfully begun giving people what they want: Third Eye.
Third Eye, in addition to being the new favorite accessory of thousands, has become a beacon in the fashion industry of all that is and all that is yet to come. In order to obtain this superb seer stone, surgeons simply remove a small portion of the skull, which acts as an additional socket. They then cut out a tiny fraction of the brain, but this piece is “insignificant,” says Dr. Lou D Cruss. “Humans hardly use that section anymore.” Surgeons then take the eye from a saline solution and “pop” it right into the newly carved socket. Daily upkeep includes nothing more than specially prescribed eye-drops a few times each day.
“I love it,” says one happy receiver of this fashion forward fad. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Another fashionista says of the ornament:
“It’s great how they let you pick the eye color. You can match it to your own, or choose that color you’ve always wanted.”
Although vision is not yet available with Third Eye, advances in science are not far behind the people’s demands. Scientists are working with a newly assembled research organization called ‘Let There Be Sight!’ in order to accomplish their goal of granting vision to those with Third Eye.
To those critics of Third Eye, Dr. Cruss says this: “It’s just like getting a tattoo. It’s a way for people to express themselves and if others can’t see that, they aren’t going to fit in with our ever changing society.” Dr. Cruss has also made it clear to critics and fans alike that anyone who changes their mind about Third Eye can always have it removed and the gap closed up.
There are hardly any consequences to speak of and the possibilities are endless with Third Eye. Call your local plastic surgeon and get yours today!
P.S. Guess what the frontal lobe is used for
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Merriam and Ernest...and Jessi
I know I mentioned this last week, but I'm going to encourage you again to read and follow this blog!! : http://jaylienielson.blogspot.com/
If you're wondering "What the heck am I supposed to do about this, Jess? I don't even know this girl." let me just tell you. She loves reading messages that people send her and I think it would be really cool if, whoever you are out there, you sent her a message on this website for her to read : http://www.teamjaylie.org/
It doesn't matter if you know her or not. Some words of love and encouragement can really go a long way. It just breaks my heart to know that someone so young has to go through something that even some adults don't make it through.
"And he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them. And when he had done this he wept again" 3 Nephi 17:21-22
On another, less important note, I am bubbling over with joy. The first reason for this, I can't disclose. Not yet, anyway. It's a surprise and I don't want to ruin it...but I'm just so dang excited about it [:
The second reason is that this has been a wonderful week. I have the absolute best friends anyone could ever hope for and they all make me really happy. I don't know what I'd do without them.
Third, tomorrow is Friday. Need I say more?
Anyway, here is the end of something I've been working on. I have the beginning done but for some reason I decided to write the end before the middle. I posted the first couple sentences on facebook a few weeks ago when I was just starting and since then, it's been quite a development.
Empty. Lonely, forlorn, deserted, lost, vacant, abandoned, empty. Merriam looks up at the ceiling and sees nothing. She looks at the floor and sees nothing. She looks at the walls, the furniture, the rooms, the door. She looks at everything and sees nothing. ‘What have I done?’ She thinks. Where she once had only a tiny pebble, an enormous stone now lay. It grew and grew and grew until it sank to the bottom of her heart, and there it resides. It weighs her down with sadness and regret. She hasn’t seen anyone for days. She hasn’t spoken for days. She is disgusted by her reflection and by the sound of her own voice. ‘Ernest.’ A new tear dances down her cheek, like an ice skater gliding across a bed of frozen flowers. When her eyes close, his face appears and she flings them open again with a whimper. Broken. Nothing will ever fix him. Empty. Nothing will ever fix her.
“Merriam…” She hears her name whispered through the stagnant air. She opens her eyes. “Merriam.” the soft voice says again. The ugly word pierces the silence like a pin through a child’s skin. Merriam catches a sultry glint of light out of the corner of her eye. She turns her head and her eyes rest upon an object lying on the kitchen counter. She takes a sharp breath and her jaw tightens. “Merriam, I’ve missed your touch” the thing says to her. She flinches away in disgust. “What is that face for? We’re friends, remember? I can help you.” She blinks in bewilderment. Silence. “You can?” She croaks. “I can.” Says the voice. She reaches out her hand and wraps her fingers slowly around the handle of a very sinister looking carving knife.
She brings the knife to her lips and presses them against the cool metal. It sighs at her touch. The Sigh travels in through her mouth and wraps around her lungs and the base of her brain. She feels alive. So alive. Colors swirl past her vision; smells, feelings, sounds, all so vivid. She can see Ernest again, and he is beckoning to her. She can feel the tender brush of his fingertips against her skin and the hair rises on her arms. She stands in bewilderment for a moment before the knife moves, almost of its own accord, from her lips to her chest. She feels the tip of it pressing on her through her blouse. Fear and doubt start to creep into her mind but The Sigh chokes it out before it can take root. Hands on the knife. Knife on her chest.
Fingers on the handle of the cab.
If you're wondering "What the heck am I supposed to do about this, Jess? I don't even know this girl." let me just tell you. She loves reading messages that people send her and I think it would be really cool if, whoever you are out there, you sent her a message on this website for her to read : http://www.teamjaylie.org/
It doesn't matter if you know her or not. Some words of love and encouragement can really go a long way. It just breaks my heart to know that someone so young has to go through something that even some adults don't make it through.
"And he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them. And when he had done this he wept again" 3 Nephi 17:21-22
On another, less important note, I am bubbling over with joy. The first reason for this, I can't disclose. Not yet, anyway. It's a surprise and I don't want to ruin it...but I'm just so dang excited about it [:
The second reason is that this has been a wonderful week. I have the absolute best friends anyone could ever hope for and they all make me really happy. I don't know what I'd do without them.
Third, tomorrow is Friday. Need I say more?
Anyway, here is the end of something I've been working on. I have the beginning done but for some reason I decided to write the end before the middle. I posted the first couple sentences on facebook a few weeks ago when I was just starting and since then, it's been quite a development.
Empty. Lonely, forlorn, deserted, lost, vacant, abandoned, empty. Merriam looks up at the ceiling and sees nothing. She looks at the floor and sees nothing. She looks at the walls, the furniture, the rooms, the door. She looks at everything and sees nothing. ‘What have I done?’ She thinks. Where she once had only a tiny pebble, an enormous stone now lay. It grew and grew and grew until it sank to the bottom of her heart, and there it resides. It weighs her down with sadness and regret. She hasn’t seen anyone for days. She hasn’t spoken for days. She is disgusted by her reflection and by the sound of her own voice. ‘Ernest.’ A new tear dances down her cheek, like an ice skater gliding across a bed of frozen flowers. When her eyes close, his face appears and she flings them open again with a whimper. Broken. Nothing will ever fix him. Empty. Nothing will ever fix her.
“Merriam…” She hears her name whispered through the stagnant air. She opens her eyes. “Merriam.” the soft voice says again. The ugly word pierces the silence like a pin through a child’s skin. Merriam catches a sultry glint of light out of the corner of her eye. She turns her head and her eyes rest upon an object lying on the kitchen counter. She takes a sharp breath and her jaw tightens. “Merriam, I’ve missed your touch” the thing says to her. She flinches away in disgust. “What is that face for? We’re friends, remember? I can help you.” She blinks in bewilderment. Silence. “You can?” She croaks. “I can.” Says the voice. She reaches out her hand and wraps her fingers slowly around the handle of a very sinister looking carving knife.
She brings the knife to her lips and presses them against the cool metal. It sighs at her touch. The Sigh travels in through her mouth and wraps around her lungs and the base of her brain. She feels alive. So alive. Colors swirl past her vision; smells, feelings, sounds, all so vivid. She can see Ernest again, and he is beckoning to her. She can feel the tender brush of his fingertips against her skin and the hair rises on her arms. She stands in bewilderment for a moment before the knife moves, almost of its own accord, from her lips to her chest. She feels the tip of it pressing on her through her blouse. Fear and doubt start to creep into her mind but The Sigh chokes it out before it can take root. Hands on the knife. Knife on her chest.
Fingers on the handle of the cab.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Arizona (and some other random thoughts)
So, it's about time for another post. I'm gonna stick my writing on the end but first, I want to talk about some stuff. First of all, there is this ADORABLE 5 year old girl from back home who has this horrible horrible cancer and it just breaks my heart. She's only 5, for goodness sake. Please read her story and give her your love and support, even if you don't know her. Pray for her and her family. She is being so strong through all of this and I know I probably wouldn't be. She's such an inspiration to me. I know there are more important things going on in the world than me and my issues. Reading the blog about her story has really made a huge impact on my life and the way I see the world. Just take the time to read some of it and get to know her a little better. She will inspire you too.
http://jaylienielson.blogspot.com/
And here is her website:
http://www.teamjaylie.org/
Now, I know this is super random when compared to my other blog entries but...I had the craziest day today. It was full of awkward rapture, particularly tonight (Oh my gosh...I should be doing my homework right now!!). Bree, Andrew, Gabe, and I made scavenger hunts for each other of crazy things to do on campus (we had to either take a picture of it or film it) and HOLY cheese. One of ours was something like "Film-Frantically search for your lost pet snake in the library" and it...it was hilarious. I had a good number of the people in the library believing I actually lost a live snake. I even laughed just now thinking about how funny it was. It was SO fantastic. I'll have to do that again in the future [:
Anyway. This feels rather insignificant after the 2 things I just typed but here you go anyway.
Write about a scene, first from far away, then closer, then closer.
The hot, Arizona desert stretches out as far as the eye can see and either direction seems like a hopeless quest for life. The cacti dance across the ocean of dust and sing to each other while the small plants that litter the ground rush to stay out of their way. The unassailable sun beats down on every living creature in sight, forcing them underground or into their prickly homes. Everything seems to slow down, or stop altogether. Arizona is a drop of water hanging off the edge of a branch in the morning light, never falling; condemned to hang for eternity.
After hours of searching, a small town is discovered. Neighborhoods and markets seem out of place in such a climate but the enduring character of the people keep the place alive. Tourists also wander the area; little ants on the burning sidewalk, scrambling to escape the blaze of a magnifying glass. They never come prepared enough. A few miles away, gunfire sounds through the motionless air. The hum of spurs echo through the ground and pull its victims back in time to the Old West. Saloons and markets, gunslingers and horses. Even the very spirit of the place seems ancient, as if a timeless bubble surrounds the entire park.
Eight miles to the east, a house sits on a grassless plot of land. Rocks cover the yard, as if trying to prove themselves better than any blade of green could ever hope to be. The house is small, and a brand new family of 4 sits inside; father, mother, sister, brother. Not including the garage, the house is only 4 rooms. On the counter, in the same spot each night, a pot of beans cooks. The children play on the musty floor. Not a care in the world troubles their young minds. Father stands at the window and dreams of something better for his family. Mother tells him, and perhaps herself, that they have everything they need. They have each other.
The scorching sun smiles on the family.
http://jaylienielson.blogspot.com/
And here is her website:
http://www.teamjaylie.org/
Now, I know this is super random when compared to my other blog entries but...I had the craziest day today. It was full of awkward rapture, particularly tonight (Oh my gosh...I should be doing my homework right now!!). Bree, Andrew, Gabe, and I made scavenger hunts for each other of crazy things to do on campus (we had to either take a picture of it or film it) and HOLY cheese. One of ours was something like "Film-Frantically search for your lost pet snake in the library" and it...it was hilarious. I had a good number of the people in the library believing I actually lost a live snake. I even laughed just now thinking about how funny it was. It was SO fantastic. I'll have to do that again in the future [:
Anyway. This feels rather insignificant after the 2 things I just typed but here you go anyway.
Write about a scene, first from far away, then closer, then closer.
The hot, Arizona desert stretches out as far as the eye can see and either direction seems like a hopeless quest for life. The cacti dance across the ocean of dust and sing to each other while the small plants that litter the ground rush to stay out of their way. The unassailable sun beats down on every living creature in sight, forcing them underground or into their prickly homes. Everything seems to slow down, or stop altogether. Arizona is a drop of water hanging off the edge of a branch in the morning light, never falling; condemned to hang for eternity.
After hours of searching, a small town is discovered. Neighborhoods and markets seem out of place in such a climate but the enduring character of the people keep the place alive. Tourists also wander the area; little ants on the burning sidewalk, scrambling to escape the blaze of a magnifying glass. They never come prepared enough. A few miles away, gunfire sounds through the motionless air. The hum of spurs echo through the ground and pull its victims back in time to the Old West. Saloons and markets, gunslingers and horses. Even the very spirit of the place seems ancient, as if a timeless bubble surrounds the entire park.
Eight miles to the east, a house sits on a grassless plot of land. Rocks cover the yard, as if trying to prove themselves better than any blade of green could ever hope to be. The house is small, and a brand new family of 4 sits inside; father, mother, sister, brother. Not including the garage, the house is only 4 rooms. On the counter, in the same spot each night, a pot of beans cooks. The children play on the musty floor. Not a care in the world troubles their young minds. Father stands at the window and dreams of something better for his family. Mother tells him, and perhaps herself, that they have everything they need. They have each other.
The scorching sun smiles on the family.
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