Winter Blues

When you look outside, all you see is white. The icy world is a clean slate, wiped blank of every splash of color, every wisp of grass, every lush branch of vegetation is packed beneath the snow, sleeping. Even the blue sky has faded to a relatively gray color. The skeletal trees hang as lifeless as my mood.
I call it the winter blues.
I wonder: why the winter BLUES when it's white? The world is white, but my mind is gray. A bleak gray. A gray so depressing, I'll spell it like this: grey. (I hate spelling gray with an "e" but now seems like the right time to do it.) I wish it were blue outside. Or green. Or orange, for crying out loud. Even though my room is a beautiful dark pink with a Hawaiian mural on one wall, the picture of tranquility, I am feeling a major case of the winter blues, minus the colors. Maybe the winter blahs would be more descriptive.
I haven't been writing much outside of school lately. My imagination's on strike. Even "Miriam's Isle" has lurched to a standstill. I had planned for it to be done by February. Ha ha. Peals of dull, sarcastic laughter chip at my fraying nerves whenever I think about it. I think the most I've done is a few school assignments, journal entries, several pathetic pages of my novel, and a random chunk of writing. The random chunk is a historical fiction, an unnamed character fleeing from the Pompeii eruption. I just poured it out randomly one night, but I'll post it here just for the heck of it.

I felt it before it arrived; the creeping heat of an evil God, washing over our bodies and bathing us in a salty sweat. The billowing cloud was so dark and threatening, looming over us, it seemed no longer a mere composition of vapor, but a solid object praying for our demise.
The air was hot as I breathed it in, not the sweet warmth of summer, where you can taste the olive trees and sunshine, but a choking, smoky heat that burned. There was nothing sweet about this heat by any stretch of imagination.
Next came the dense cloud of creeping ash, advancing over the worn dusty roads like a hideous creature. As my eyes grew wide in terror, despite the hot smoke that burned, I swore to the Gods I saw its gruesome mouth curving up into a vile grin. In my mind, the gray cloud took on the hideous fangs and eyes brimming with repugnant lust for blood—our blood.
The last thing that came was the darkness. The claustrophobic midnight that smothered Pompeii to death. The awful creature that swallowed us whole, too excited to torment us any longer. The darkness was not like the familiar blanket of night that conceals the often harsh reality of daylight, with fingers of glowing moonlight that pick out paths and breathe a soft pale light into what is necessary. No, this darkness was more like the locked door in a windowless room. The concealing black where children are punished, where sinister secrets flourish, and where nightmares take root and grow.
As the beloved town breathed in the scalding ashes, we felt ourselves sinking in the debris from Mount Vesuvius, shaking them off as often as we could. We knew if we failed to do this, we could be smothered beneath the crushing weight of this substance.
The ash coated the world in such abundance it was like snow. It was then, and only then, that I found out what it is like to suffocate. Not only with the heat and weight and crushing fear, but also with the terrible cries and moans of the people whose loved ones failed to escape. They cried for kin, and they cried for their lovers. They wept and moaned for their sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents, husbands and wives. For it was all of these unlucky folks who failed to escape from the dreaded creature who swallowed and suffocated this innocent town…who defeated Pompeii, by pounding it with nothing but ash—simple, insignificant, yet underestimated.

There you have it. My only productive piece of writing in days. It's a pretty random chunk, and I haven't read it over or anything, but I am fascinated by the Pompeii story. I want to read a historical fiction on it. Not the facts; I couldn't care less about the gases in the volcano; I want the (fake but intriguing) stories of the people. My aunt suggested I write a historical fiction on Pompeii, and I really liked the idea. I'll aim for a short story (mine are generally about fifteen pages).
Oh, there was one more thing I'm proud of. I wrote a "short" story, Watergirl--lame title, I know, but I'm working on it-- that was thirteen pages long. It's about a girl who loves swimming (ahem--me) and one summer finds herself turning into a fish, scale by scale. My character's name is Ashley and it was really fun to write about someone else for a change. No offense, Miria and Clarabelle, but they are kind of like buds that are so old you have little spats now and then. Ashley was a friend new enough and intriguing enough that I just went with what she did and let little things slide.
I have to write a freaking PLAY for my ELA class-- any ideas? I have none. The only things I know are
  1. My main character should be named Terranika
  2. I'll probably write a serious play, not a comedy
  3. That's pretty much it

So, all in all, I'm stumped. I mean, I played the Sims 2 for almost two hours today. It's pathetic. My relationship with The Sims is kind of weird. I know it's stupid, I don't get mad at people when they say it, but I find myself with a major urge to go on it now and then. I burn brain cells then log off and say, "Man, WHY did I waste all that time?" And then next week... Same thing. It's so dumb. I know I could do more constructive things, and yet I have 2 expansion packs, 4 stuff packs, a mod, custom content, and a lot of cheats. I just can't seem to get off for good. Oh, sure, I've gone probably about a month without it, but I always go back. It's like smoking.

So, thanks for listening for my pathetic ranting and whining. I don't blame you a bit if you quit a while ago. (But please at least read the Pompeii thing-- it's pretty cool, if you don't mind my braggingness. It's my only product in more than a week.)


Barack Obama's Inauguration

I don't actually know if I am spelling 'inauguration' right, but the fact remains the same: this day, January 20th, 2009, is a historic day. So I figured I'd write a blog post.

For those of you totally out of the loop, Barack Obama is a black man who won the USA presidential election. He is the very first African-American guy to have done this. Today, he is being inaugurated (whatever that means.)
Okay, I'm pretty sure it just means he says a bunch of oaths and stuff, swears, (swear as in promise, NOT cuss, ha ha) and makes a 20 minute speech to all of the Americans (and the Canadians who are tuning in).
My Social Studies teacher, Miss Chopty, told us yesterday that today would be a historic day that we would all remember for the rest of our lives. She told us of some of the days she remembered, like when Elvis Presley died and the 9/11. What did I do on this special day?
I went to 'the city' (What we wimpy small towners call this big city nearest to us) for other people's appointments. We went to a grocery store (woot) Indigo (I got two books) and then Bonanza for lunch (we met up with some friends there.) After lunch we went to the dentist. Mom and Kloey and Carson all had to get fillings (suckahs) while I sat in the waiting room and watched the historic event unfold on live TV. Okay, actually that's a lie. I brought my laptop in and watched Mama Mia. But still, I saw a little bit of it, and I was in the same room that it was playing in, so probably the historic vibes like washed off the screen, filtered through the air and got absorbed into my very soul.
To be perfectly honest, the thing that stood out today was watching Mama Mia. I have the song "SOS" stuck in my head. So probably in about eighty years, my adorable granchildren will say, "G-ma, you were there when the first black man became president?"
And then I'll be all, "Totally."

With eager eyes and gaping mouths, they will ask, "Do you remember it?"
And into my head will pop, "So when you're near me, darling, can't you hear me, SOS!" I'll probably start singing in a cracky, thin Grandma voice, and they'll be all freaked out and won't know what song it is, and I'll have to explain Mama Mia was a musical that was popular before they were born. And they'll think, "Yeeg, what old-lady tastes."
Oh, fun. I can hardly wait.

For real, though, I did actually track down part of his speech (it was 6 mins, 30 seconds, which wasn't the real speech, but I thought it was long enough, frankly) and watched it. He's pretty good looking....aaaaaaaaarrrgh! Kidding. e's old. I know 47 isn't actually that old, but to a twelve-year-old, that's like, ancient.
My teacher, the Derbster, was one day saying, "Guys, thirty really isn't that old!" No offense, Mr. D, but I think your thoughts get turned around when you lose your hair. I think someone might have said something like that out loud, actually, but he takes it good. He's a cool guy.
Anyways, Obama's speech was pretty intriguing and uplifting and all that, but I couldn't help thinking, "But dude, this doesn't actually apply to me." Part of my mind (the part that listens during class) was saying, "Yeah, but doesn't the USA affect everyone?" I guess it applies to me in the media kind of way. But I don't like the US because they cancelled Moonlight, a CBC show that was AMAZING and never even completed one season, dangit. I miss that show. I love my on-screen vampires, and since Twilight isn't out on DVD yet, Mick St. John was the best I could do.
I do actually think Obama will be a good prez, because in his speech, although he is promising to "bring change to America," he wasn't all promising, like, Candyland and ponies tomorrow. He said, "It will take more than months and years to accomplish this, but America is a great country, and I know we can do it." Something along those lines. My dad told me a direct quote of Obama's, but I can't remember it, so I'll put down a direct quote of my Social teacher instead:
"Forty years ago, we could not walk through the same door as a black man. Tomorrow, a black man is about to become the most powerful man in the world."
That's pretty inspiring and sweet, you know. I mean, forty or fifty years? We've gone from not serving black people in restaurants to voting and cheering for a black man to become president? That's amazing. I will put here, I am so not one of those people who don't like 'colored' people. I do not pin prejudice on anyone because of race. It can be a little difficult where I live, not with African-Americans but with Native Americans. But that's off topic.
I think what I was saying before, was that Obama will be a great president because he not only dreams big but is also realistic. Because he wants to achieve the goals but isn't expecting it to happen overnight. Which is correct. It sure as heck isn't. But if they work hard, they can pull it off. Happy America=Happy rest of the world. That's slightly pathetic, but still true. Oh, well. You go, Barack Obama. Good luck with your saving everyone.

(Look at the patriotic post colors.)


Flopped Predictions

Today in Science class, my teacher, Mr. D, was reading us some old quotes that these scientists made. He (the Derbster) said, "Remember, telling the future is very shaky. It's hard, and some of it turns out right, but it usually changes."

"This first one," He said, "Was from a well-respected guy, you know? Smart, scientist, people looked up to him. He said...

'This item has too many shortenings to be of any use to us.'"

Know what he was talking about? A phone.

There were more, too...

"I cannot imagine for the life of me why anyone would need a personal computer."

"We don't like their sound and their music is on its way out, anyways." (This was a recording company who turned down the Beatles.)

"Airtoys are nice, but have no military use." (A Frenchman. Guess who lost the war?)

"640 KB of memory will be too much for anyone to use."

"Who'd want to hear actors talk?"(At the end of the silent movie age)

"Heavy flying machines are impossible."

Oh, man. If those dead guys are up there, they'd be having a laugh at us right now with our 50 GB iPods and Surround Sound movies and memoirs of the Beatles. Not to mention the planes, MOST of which are involved in the military!

Well, I guess it just goes to show-- even the smartest guys of the time, experimenting with the top-notch technology, can make predictions that will flop.


Writing-- Thick and Thin


Yes, I am a writer. Yes, I have set a Miriam's Isle shedule. Yes, I now have a slick personal laptop and Microsoft Word 2007.

Am I writing? Nooooooooooooo.

Listen, I know that so many of you are writers, too! Any of you have tips on how to write lots, and keep it up?! I used to call this writer's block, but it's sinking in more and more often! I'm worried that it will slowly dissolve into my system PERMANENTLY!!!

Tips from the top of your head. Writing shedules, beating writer's block, setting the mood (?) I dunno. I just know that I really want some tips from actual people. I tried google, but it was getting to "technical," and you could pretty much tell it wasn't true-blue writers writing the articles.

Please, please, please, help me.



Well! I can't remember the last thing I posted on here. Oh well.

Well well well.

I've got to stop saying well.

Anyhoo, my main Christmas gift was...drumroll, please...A LAPTOP!

Huzzah, huzzah, my life is complete. Yay!
It's a Sony Vaio and it has Windows Vista. I love it sooooo much. It's awesome.

So, it's a new year, and my resolutions include...

  1. Eat healthy and lose some weight, exersize often
  2. Finish "Miriam's Isle"
  3. Be more responsible and reliable

So, there you have it. It's not too original, but it's what I feel I have to do. I do eat too much junk, I am overweight (according to the Wii Fit) I don't exersise enough, I really want to finish Miriam's Isle, and I am too forgetful.

May this year be your best year yet!

Wow, that was cheesy. Oh well! (RAWRGH! There's that "well" again! )