Sarey, Sarey, Quite contrary, Always feels alone,I'm hoping if I sleep for a week, maybe I can write something "better".
She wants to cry, and I can't lie, sometimes wants to leave home.
Sarah.
4/18/11
April 18th, 2011
Busy weekends leave me drained, no matter how fantastic they are. They also make you feel shit after, because you're alone and dull again, with the same chant stuck in your head.
Sarah.
Sarah.
4/10/11
April 10th, 2011
After the wake, I wrote the required words, resulting from my first encounter with death as someone older than five. I have written in my hidden journal, full of angry words toward myself. There is the useless plotting, of things to write 'some day.' If only that day really existed, somewhere other than the realm of imagination. Feeling full of things useless and cumbersome, and empty of things the that matter, leads to minimal productivity. As does censoring myself, to get into college, avoid trouble, and the scrutiny of others.
Sarah
Sarah
3/10/11
March 10th, 2011
So, I haven't been writing much, nor have I blogged here (obviously), but I feel like I came up with a real good, solid idea to work with. For once, I have a beginning and an end. Or, at least the outline of such. It makes me happy. I don't even remember what I was writing about.
Sarah
Sarah
2/24/11
February 24th, 2011
I didn't write today. I started something yesterday, but if it will actually go anywhere is doubtful. Instead I felt ill, of course on a day off, and slept. And, after my mum (jokingly) suggested I look into Harvard, I found myself looking into a local university. I've just about missed deadlines for the fall 2011 semester, but the Spring 2012 semester is promising. So, I've emailed the school. Now, I just have fear-of-no-future-idis. Oops.
Sarah
Yeah. Freaking over college, it's an incredibly crappy way to spend your February break.Never have I felt so ill while doing so little.One incorrect answer can ruin it all,One mark too low and the letter is full of rejection.The nausea sets in before the page loads,each form weighs a thousand pounds,every second is closer than the previous to failure.The underachieving and minimal effort are catching up to me,all I can do now is work hard and hope, no,pray, that I can get in.At this point, I'll take most any school that will have me.
Sarah
2/23/11
February 23rd, 2011
I was trying to re-write the zombie Apocalypse. Instead, we got the thoughts of a self-conscious teenage girl. How does that work?.... It probably has something to do with my online dress browsing, for prom and for pleasure.
Yeah. Don't ask.
Sarah
"I'm being ridiculous," she muttered to herself, skirting around a mob of elderly mall goers. It was 11 in the afternoon, and instead of wandering around, Molly should have been in school. Somehow, she thought this would be easier than going to school, with less beautiful girls and more fun things to look at. In reality, it just meant she had mannequins and small sized clothes to fixate on, instead of skinny girls and their skinny body parts.
The money in her pocket seemed to feel heavy as she passed the froyo stand. Her stomach wambled, but she was on her way out, and on a mission. Stopping for a treat never did anything good for her. It led to her grabbing her brown hair, and pulling it in all different directions, as she sobbed over her inability to purge the vial substances. No, for once she was going to be strong, and take her money elsewhere. To the land of celery and tea, splenda and diet soda.
Using her fingers, she silently counted the hours and minutes since the last time she had eaten."Three hours and forty-two minutes," she told herself, pushing through the door and heading toward the parking lot.
Yeah. Don't ask.
Sarah
2/21/11
AP Literature Class
Instead of going on an on about how ridiculous I feel when attempting to craft fiction in a successful manner, I figured I could talk about my Lit class. A few of my friends aren't the hugest fans of said class, due to the teacher mostly, but I think it's one of my favourite classes that I've taken since 9th grade. I find our teacher quite delightful, he's not incredibly judgmental, and seems pretty "go with the flow," which I enjoy. Plus, he doesn't mind that I sit in class, drawing and/or painting, 90% of the time.
I won't lie, if it weren't for the class, I doubt I would be reading as much as I have been. I sort of forgot how much I liked reading things in plain English, verses Elizabethan. Plus, some of the novels, poems and stories we've read have been fantastic. There is really only one book I found irritating, but that was due to the way the narration was written (due to the time period, location of the characters, race, etc).
For the first time, I've actually felt like participating in class too, which is quite out of character for me. I'm not afraid that Luc is going to mock me for seeing something differently, because he doesn't care. If you don't see what he does, he says his opinion of your opinion and breezes past. My only problem is that quite often I think something, and before I raise my hand, it comes out of another students mouth. I find it entertaining, he talks and then I try to talk, for participation and because for once I feel for the character/setting/situation, but end up babbling and making no sense. I would try and convince him to talk less, but I doubt I would say much anyway, for I still have this underlying fear of being terribly off base. I'd rather hear a boy I've known since elementary school add to the conversation, and not partake, then something not get added to the conversation.
We just finished our discussion on naturalism, which spawned from our reading "To Build a Fire" and Ethan Frome. If you would like to feel odd, sit in a class discussing the characters, relate to them and how they act, and listen to your classmates complain of them being weak & pathetic (Ethan), vicious & vindictive (Zenna) or completely useless (Mattie.) Oh, and The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, too. The jumbled thoughts that barely seem to connect, that's abnormal as well, even though you've experienced them. That's the one downside to the class, really. Sometimes, when we talk of characters who feel trapped by their surroundings, or people who seemed caged in by their own thoughts, the fear of the reaction that action brings, I have a tendency to leave the classroom slightly dazed, stumbling around more introspective and attentive to the inhabitants of the hallways. I'm amused by the fact that I'm part of the small number of girls who would date Mr. Prufrock, if he were to exist. Why wouldn't a girl want to date a guy who could understood her thought process more than others could?
Currently, we're reading "The Stranger," and already I see where the character is coming from, and I'm only 16 pages in. So much of the narration reminds me of how I think, or thought, when dad is illness is worse than usual. The only read differences are that my parents are still alive, and after thinking of something I want, I feel guilty for not putting dad first. This may not make any sense, but in my head it is completely coherent.
In other news, 237 words were written today. I only liked one of them, exponential. I only liked it because it entertained me at the moment I wrote it. No longer does it fill me with any sort of thrill or whimsy.
Keep Calm & Write On,
Sarah
I won't lie, if it weren't for the class, I doubt I would be reading as much as I have been. I sort of forgot how much I liked reading things in plain English, verses Elizabethan. Plus, some of the novels, poems and stories we've read have been fantastic. There is really only one book I found irritating, but that was due to the way the narration was written (due to the time period, location of the characters, race, etc).
For the first time, I've actually felt like participating in class too, which is quite out of character for me. I'm not afraid that Luc is going to mock me for seeing something differently, because he doesn't care. If you don't see what he does, he says his opinion of your opinion and breezes past. My only problem is that quite often I think something, and before I raise my hand, it comes out of another students mouth. I find it entertaining, he talks and then I try to talk, for participation and because for once I feel for the character/setting/situation, but end up babbling and making no sense. I would try and convince him to talk less, but I doubt I would say much anyway, for I still have this underlying fear of being terribly off base. I'd rather hear a boy I've known since elementary school add to the conversation, and not partake, then something not get added to the conversation.
We just finished our discussion on naturalism, which spawned from our reading "To Build a Fire" and Ethan Frome. If you would like to feel odd, sit in a class discussing the characters, relate to them and how they act, and listen to your classmates complain of them being weak & pathetic (Ethan), vicious & vindictive (Zenna) or completely useless (Mattie.) Oh, and The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, too. The jumbled thoughts that barely seem to connect, that's abnormal as well, even though you've experienced them. That's the one downside to the class, really. Sometimes, when we talk of characters who feel trapped by their surroundings, or people who seemed caged in by their own thoughts, the fear of the reaction that action brings, I have a tendency to leave the classroom slightly dazed, stumbling around more introspective and attentive to the inhabitants of the hallways. I'm amused by the fact that I'm part of the small number of girls who would date Mr. Prufrock, if he were to exist. Why wouldn't a girl want to date a guy who could understood her thought process more than others could?
Currently, we're reading "The Stranger," and already I see where the character is coming from, and I'm only 16 pages in. So much of the narration reminds me of how I think, or thought, when dad is illness is worse than usual. The only read differences are that my parents are still alive, and after thinking of something I want, I feel guilty for not putting dad first. This may not make any sense, but in my head it is completely coherent.
In other news, 237 words were written today. I only liked one of them, exponential. I only liked it because it entertained me at the moment I wrote it. No longer does it fill me with any sort of thrill or whimsy.
Keep Calm & Write On,
Sarah
2/18/11
February 18th, 2011
It's difficult to find time for writing, when you're always doing things for others, or in a mass of paranoia. Oh, and don't get me started about being a paranoid mass that's trying to do things for others. I am now unable to focus on too much, am exhausted and have thoughts more scrambled & unorganized than those of Prufrock. I just want to hibernate for a while, and see if that helps. I want to be less paranoid.
Sarah
Sarah
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)