B.S.ing my Papers: Like a Pro

Confession: Sometimes, when you are in college, you have to fudge your assignments a little bit.

Because, let's be honest. College professors don't always care if you actually do the all the work, so much as  if what you turn in is good. They just want to see a good essay. They don't have to know if you actually intend on doing everything you say you'll do in your papers (especially those introspective ones), just as long as it sounds good.

Personally, I don't like lying in a paper, and I generally strive for excellence. But occasionally, when I'm really struggling with a paper, I'll, for lack of better phrasing, "B.S. my way through it." Last week was just one of those weeks. It was an 800-1000 word paper and I wasn't really feeling inspired by the topic, "how you will create a learning atmosphere in an organization in which you are involved."

But, I bush-whacked my way though it late Thursday night (it was due Saturday), and while I didn't blatantly make up stuff for it, as I was writing it I did keep saying to myself, "This is crap." I was certain that what I was writing would not be what my teacher was looking for, but at a loss for what else to do, I plugged away at it.

A day later, when I was proofreading it, I realized that the basis of the paper was actually not half bad. (Even I surprise myself sometimes!) But I still didn't feel very confident about it when I turned it in and I was hyper-aware of the fact that I used the word "encourage" no less than five times. (It was more before that, but I referred to a thesaurus for a few of those instances.)

I finally got my paper back with a score of 20/20 and this is what my teacher had to say:

Good job, Misha.  Not only did you have a clear and concise paper but your also had a generous smattering of course concepts throughout that demonstrated your good grasp of the material and how it could be applied to your organization.  It's very gratifying to have students, such as you, who can not only learn and understand concepts but also, and most importantly, have the wisdom for application.  Thanks for helping to make my day!  MB

So apparently, it wasn't as bad as I thought. Gotta love that!

Finding Closure in the Spring

I wrote this poem the other day:

I am a tree in winter,
Stripped bare of vivid leaves,
Red for passion,
Yellow for happiness,
Orange for anger,
And brown for those in-between days,
Where I just feel... nothing.

The memories of bygone loves
Engraved in my sides,
Never to be erased,
One crossed out heart after another,
Me. plus the wind.
Me. plus the sunshine.
Me. plus art.
Me.... plus, him.
Each representing a season,
Now passed me by.

You twisted the knife in my ribcage,
Slid an axe through the bars,
Do you think that I cannot feel the blade.
Hidden among the knots?
I thought I stopped caring for you...
Why does this still hurt?
No matter what lies I tell myself,
I cannot deny this pain.
You forget that scars run deep,
I took all the responsibility,
Sheltered you from the rain.
I. bore the burden.
The weight of snow in my branches,
Until I feared they would crack--
No, begged them to, if only to stop this heart ache.
They say strength is how far you can go
Before you break,
But strength.
Is when you reach your breaking point,
And keep going.

Did I have too much strength to make it work?
Did I hold on to you for too long?
Or did you mistake my leaves for play-things,
As you picked them up and scattered them in the breeze?

I whisper a prayer on the wind,
Hoping for spring.
Because hope is sunshine peeking through the clouds,
Hope is flower blooms in February,
And hope is the moss that will someday,
Cover over, these scars.

He showed up at church with a girl. At least they didn't come together, but I have heard rumors, and I know. They have gone other places. Together. I watch from afar, and try not to care. I quiet Mom's hennish noises with a gentle reminder, "Grace, mom. It means nothing." As much as I pretend it doesn't bother me, all I want to do is go home. But I stay.

Edging into the sanctuary, I clung to my best friend, and I prayed. I prayed so hard. "God, I have no idea what to do. What to think. How to react. What to say..." The music didn't stir me this particular morning. So instead, I wrote the chicken scratchings that would become this poem. I felt a little guilty, at first. Excuses and reasons trilled through my head:

The poem was "distracting" me from church.
I should be singing right now.
The poem wasn't about God.
The poem was about feelings I shouldn't feel. Bitter things.
Can God appreciate a bitter poem?

I didn't know. But I convinced myself, it was okay because I feel God has gifted me with poetry and writing and if I feel inspired during church, it is not wrong to write it down. Later, Mom told me, "Is writing poetry not its own form of worship?" And I realized I was a bit stuck in my idea of what "worship" really means. Poetry can be an act of worship; look at the Psalms! (I think I need to read more psalms.) The fragments and phrases filled an entire page of my notebook. That afternoon, I turned them into a fully-fledged poem. A beautiful poem that perfectly conveyed through imagery how I really felt.

I have a right to be angry, to think to myself, "Was I so easily replaced?" I have a right to be bitter. But I'm not. I have done everything in my strength to protect him. I have tried so hard to guard my words when I talk about our relationship so others wouldn't see him negatively. I have struggled against my own gossipy tendencies and refrained from speaking what would not be beneficial for others to hear. Instead of venting to anyone who would listen to me, I chose a select few to share my heart.

But that didn't take away the hurt.

I believe that in writing this poem, I have found many things-- Closure. Hope. Healing. Strength. An end. And a beginning. And every time I read this poem, I cannot help sighing as I finish the final stanza. A good kind of sigh, though. A healthy sigh. It is a sigh of letting go. I am closing the door on this chapter, and turning the page of the next because I am tired of looking back. I sigh, because I finally feel like I can start over. I am not angry. Maybe it stings a little bit, but that will go away with time. I have done quite a few things in this process that I believe was leading to closure, but nothing with the finality of this poem. I feel like a burden, the snow in my branches, has been lifted.

My mom asked me about the moss, she said, "covering over implies pain might still be there just 'covered.'" Which is true. And I will probably still struggle with this for a little while longer. "But," I told her, "The moss implies growth." The memories will always be there; they will never be truly erased. But over time, the moss, a sort of life, will grow to cover over and soften the past. That is wherein the hope of this poem lies.

Poet Pride

Please allow me a little bit of gratuitous celebrating and keyboard smashing.

AUGGGHHHH!!!! asdfdghjkl; wifjafoehja;hnfcasdcfhafh;adshfi;zdsho AHHHHHHHH!!!!!

*five minutes later*

Okay, now that that's out of my system, I shall begin.

Ever since I competed in my first poetry slam, I have desired to make it to Round 3. For those of you who don't know the structure of poetry competitions, there is a pyramidal structure that is built by elimination. In Round 1, anyone and everyone can compete, but for Round 2, they have to cut it back a bit. Only six poets can advance to the second round and the rest are cut (Which can be anywhere from 6 to 10 poets being cut). Then, those six poets are cut down to 3 and this is what Round 3 is. Round 3 is The. Final. Round. There are only three poets and they take first, second, and third place.

I think almost every time I have competed, I have made it into round 2. Several times, I was close to making it to round three, but I was never quite good enough. I struggled and struggled. I molded and shaped my poetry, trying to make it better, and figure out the secret to getting into round 3. That's all I wanted. Just to be good enough to make it into the third round. I didn't even care about getting first. I could have gotten third place and been over the moon about having had a shot at it.

Guess. What. After all my trying. Writing and Re-writing, revising and tweaking. I FINALLY, made it into Round 3!! I was SO happy, I couldn't even express my joy.

For the first round, I performed a poem that I'd made up on the fly a few days previously.
The second round, I performed a poem called, "Astronaut's Eye View." Which, the title makes it sound a lot more wonderful and interesting than I felt it really was. I wrote it for a school assignment for my literature class and the subject topic was "books" and how they benefit teens. The poem turned out pretty good; My teacher loved it. And it got me into ROUND 3!!!!
For the third round, I revisited a poem I wrote a while ago. I actually performed it last month and I tried to do it from memory, but I completely bombed it, forgot all the words, and was eliminated from round two. (Definitely wasn't my day.) I decided to bring it back, so I could do the beautiful poem some justice.

And justice, I did it, because GUESS WHAT!!!

I TOOK FIRST PLACE.

Cue more keyboard-smashing and headdesk-banging. I was so thrilled, I was literally stunned speechless. There are no words to describe the euphoria (which has been kind of a theme for me lately.). I was so surprised, honored, and pleased all at the same time.

I wasn't even sure if I would get into the third round because the judging tends to be screwy and skewed and unpredictable, and there were a TON of noobs that night. (Which, the noobs tend to garner sympathy scores because they're first timers.) So the judging is hardly objective, and two of the other veteran poets basically dropped out the final round because they'd both gotten straight tens the whole night and were planning to do a sort of "face off." In the end, it worked out that I had the perfect combination of judges, noobs, and poetry, and I took first place. That's just how slammin' goes. But I am SO. PROUD!!! Words fail me.

It was the last TYPS night of the regular season. Next month, I'll be competing in the championship. I'll be eligible to compete in a few slams during the summer, but after that, my slamming career at TYPS will come to a close, and I will have to find a new forum for my poetry. I don't think I could have ended the regular season a better way.

Reminders

This is a short-short story (less than 500 words) I wrote for my creative writing class. Following it is an analysis I had to write for it. Clocking in at approximately 462 words, this story shows a girl who takes a deeper look at her surroundings to find God. I would definitely encourage you to read the analysis at the end. Even as the author, it gave me an incredible insight into what the story is really about.


“Reminders”

            I’m not a bad kid. No, sometimes, I just feel compelled to do… questionable things. Maybe I’ve just become restless; or maybe it’s “senior-it is” finally getting to my head (I can think of more than one occasion where I used, “Hell, I’m a senior!” to justify actions I wouldn’t normally do, like riding the elevator of a healthcare building 23 floors up into the air on the class trip! Needless to say, I wasn’t supposed to be in that building and I got in big trouble for it, but looking out across the city lights and how they twinkled like stars… God, it was worth it.); or maybe, deep down, I really do have a naughty streak—a demon clambering to get out.
            All I know is that nothing stopped me when I got that text from Josh at midnight,
            New message from: Josh.
            hey. u wanna go 4 a drive 2nite?
            I hesitated for a second, but reason gave way to a deeper instinct for adventure. And that’s how I got here—driving around town with Josh at one in the morning. He got his license recently; I think he was just itching for a little freedom. He has a restless spirit, like mine. As the car ducked in and out of the dirty light of street lamps, we talked about everything to the sky and back.
            After a while, all went quiet. Josh cocked his head, listening. He turned the dial on the stereo and Switchfoot’s voice came out louder, singing, “When I look at the staaarr-arr-arr-arrs, I see someone else!” He turned the volume back down.
            “Why do you think God gave us the stars?” he asked, “He certainly didn’t have to.”
            I didn’t know what to say. My gaze drawn heavenwards, I tried to make sense of my thoughts. The simple answer is, “because He loves us.” Or He wanted to give us something that would always point us to Him. Or maybe… suddenly an answer appeared before me. I know why it’s there. Not just the stars, but the whole universe, I mean. God gave us the stars, the galaxies, the universe, to remind us—humanity, prideful humanity—that no matter how much we master the earth, there will always be some things we can never master. Some heights we can never attain…
            I waved when Josh dropped me off at my house. The back door opened with a tiny click. I tiptoed across the threshold, stepping out of a divine world and into my old realm.
            As my head hit the pillow, I prayed, “Why did you give us the stars, God?” and drifted off into celestial dreams, where behind closed lids I saw tiny pinpricks of light--the stars. Such beautifully simple reminders.
 
Analysis:

How does the author create tension? What is the climax and resolution of the text?

            The author creates tension right at the beginning of the story when the main character questions her own actions and the reasons behind them. The initial references to demons and hell also add tension to that first paragraph. Josh and the main character’s restlessness also contribute to the tension.
            The climax of the story occurs when the character realizes the “real” reason why God created the stars. It is a humbling realization that eventually brings the character closer to God as we see her praying in the last lines. Though the story ends on an uncertain note, there is still a sense of peace and finality at the end of the story, even though the question is not fully resolved.

What is the main character’s relationship between the other two entities mentioned—Josh and God?

            There is nothing in the text to suggest that the main character has a romantic relationship with Josh. When he texts her late at night, there is a hesitation, or apprehension, but it is not clarified if she is apprehensive because she is afraid she will get in trouble or because something inappropriate could occur in the car, alone with a male. In fact, this is the only hint in the text that would confirm the main character to be female (because a male might not experience that kind of apprehension.) Whatever the exact reason for hesitation, the instinct for adventure is stronger in the end. It appears that the two characters are friends, perhaps on a d eeper level than most friendships. We see this in the similar restless spirit, their talking together about “everything to the sky and back,” and the philosophical nature of Josh’s question. We also see that they are at least on friendly terms when the main character waves to
Josh at the end of the venture.
            In the beginning, the main character seems very out of touch with God, as evidenced by her senior-rebellion, and suggestion that there is a demon inside her. This idea is also implied by her usage of “Hell, I’m a senior” and how she uses God’s name, “God, it was worth it.” She isn’t exactly swearing, but we don’t get the sense that she is addressing God either. We also see in her hesitation, that the “instinct for adventure” wins out over any sort of moral grounds she might have for not driving around with Josh. At the height of the story, she wrestles with the concepts of God and the stars, knowing the answer, but not really understanding them until she realizes that the stars are reminders more than anything. She still doubts herself and the world, suggesting that “maybe this is hell.” But in the final lines, we sense a return to God as she addresses him more directly as a result of her humbling
realization.

What symbols does the author use? How does she use foreshadowing in the story?

            Throughout the entire story, the author uses references to heaven/hell and the stars/sky to tie the piece together. She also uses words like: up, deep down, deeper, down, and heights to describe vertical space. The character entertains ideas of heaven and hell, demons, and divine worlds. These elements combine to create the foreshadowing and atmosphere in the story. In addition, the author uses the Switchfoot song to foreshadow the main character’s revelations. “...I see someone else.” This line foreshadow’s the character’s realization that God gave us the stars to point us to himself.

What is the effect produced by ending on an unsolved/uncertain note?

            In the end, we see the character praying, and asking God, “why did you give us the stars?” She doesn’t ask this out of doubt, but out of curiosity. It is this curiosity that lends the note of finality to the story, even though the question is not expressly answered. Leaving the question unanswered let’s the question make its mark on the reader’s mind. It makes the reader wonder the question for himself or herself. If the end had been more certain, providing an answer to an unknowable question, the reader would have no need to think about the answer to the question. It would squelch any curiosity the reader might have had and discourage them from seeking their own answers to questions.

A Conundrum

Unfortunately, this conundrum is not as simple as figuring out what the word "conundrum" means, or how to use it in a sentence. This conundrum is much much bigger, and it is this:

NaNoWriMo is coming. O_O

These words are enough to strike fear into the heart of the unprepared writer, myself not withstanding. Not only am I not prepared for this massive noveling event (see sidebar for more posts on this topic) but I am terribly, dreadfully....busy.

Which is partly why the blog has been so quiet lately. Between schoolwork, testing, driving now(!!), church responsibilities, redoing my room(!!!!!), impending job opportunity, and everything else, the blog has fallen to the wayside. But I have not forgotten it!! I would LOVE to post pictures of my newly painted room, but it's not quite finished yet. And I really want to put in the finishing touches before I take the pictures. It will look very...designer. I've been super excited about the whole project over the last few months.

Back to NaNoWriMo. If the last few months are any indication of the next few, my life shall be hellish indeed. Not that busyness is a bad thing. I enjoy every single one of my activities, but there is simply no rest. As my friend Maike puts it so nicely, life is like the sea pounding against the shore. Over and over and over like one great rhythmic heartbeat that never stops beating. Powerful. Constant. Mesmerizing.

I have much on my plate between youth and government (which my research for my bills is sadly lacking) and my schoolwork. I'm expecting to be taking three online language arts courses through BYU this semester, which means lots of reading and writing for school. Will participating in NaNoWriMo be setting myself up to fail? Will it be too taxing of a challenge to undertake? I already feel a little overwhelmed. Mom is urging me not to do it this year...

And I wasn't. Or at least I wasn't--until today. Today, I had the pleasure of spending some time with Kristin and Sabina in the Starbucks at the mall. We didn't get much work done, but it was so refreshing to be with them, to laugh, to brainstorm. And I came up with a plot.

I suppose, it would be cruel not to tell the plot. A genius in the making must keep their secrets carefully, but I think that an exception will be alright. Just this once. ;) It started with two elements. Art and Dance. I wanted to write a novel about one of these two things... but what? And how? I thought of a couple different scenarios. Then I browsed through Wikipedia's 36 dramatic situations and wrote down which ones stuck out to me. Two characters: a struggling art student and a mad painter.. All combined into this, the plot of my story:

A genius painter, mad and alone, sacrificed everything for his art; but when he takes on a struggling art student to model for his paintings, they find they have more in common than meets the eye.

I admit (confession time!) that it will probably be a love story--but not of the kind that makes you want to gag. It will be cute and sweet, and the model/budding artist will teach the seasoned painter how to see the beautiful things in life. See? Doesn't that sound sweet already? It will be a Scrooge-like transformation, I think.

I'm still not sure how the whole story will go, but I feel like the possibilities are endless. I don't have an era or any particular sequence of events. All I know is that the student is female, and her role will be similar to that of a modern internship. She poses for his paintings in exchange for lessons in art. <3 I'm in love with it already!

AND, now that I have a handy dandy keyboard for Bernard, everything will go much much smoother. I can write in a more comfortable position, take it to starbucks. All I need is a little stand for Bernie and I'll be good to go! Mom doesn't want me to do this, but I feel like I can't not. Such frustrating feelings. Sometimes I do not understand myself. What a conundrum.

Poetry Slammin'

 For those of you who do not know, Spoken Word Poetry is probably my latest and greatest....obsession. (I need a better word for these things.) ...Latest and greatest hobby. And it is really just poetry that is written to be performed. (Meaning, it is often more dramatic in nature.) Then, there are competitions called "Slams" in which poets perform their poetry amidst much applause, cheering, and audience judges. Rules include: the poem must be original, 3 minute time limit, and prohibition of props. Other than that, there are virtually no limitations on the poem's content, style, form, or tempo. It's pretty cool stuff.

My friends Kristin and Sabina introduced it to me earlier this semester, and I fell in love with it. I looked up poets on YouTube and started crafting my own and practiced my poems in front of a camera or my family or the old folks at Hundred Palms and the homeschool group...

Well, last night, I competed at a poetry slam for the FIRST TIME EVER!!!!! It was so exciting! I'm still replaying all the poems that were performed, in my head. Kristin and Sabina were out of town so I invited Melissa and Nicole, but they bailed on me last minute. And I thought, "you know what? I've been trying to go to one of these things since February and I'm going! Friends or not!" So that's exactly what I did. I went by myself. O_o 

The first ten minutes were the scariest. I was alone. I'd arrived early and the student committee was still talking. Those not in it, were mingling with one another--in a circle. It was a closed group to me. I sat by myself. I started to question whether or not I should've come. But after the committee finished, a couple girls- Megan and Kay introduced themselves to me and everything was brighter from there. 

I was there for a workshop and we talked about community. How we bring something to every community we enter and it is up to us to decide what we are going to bring. And we talked about TYPS as a community; what were we bringing to the TYPS community today? Then we did an exercise, answering questions and passing a long rope to one another. There were only four questions, but they brought us together in a way that I have never seen before.. We talked about our siblings, what poetry means, someone we've lost, and someone who makes us laugh. The third question in particular was profound. In sharing our pain, we were brought closer together. It was awesome! At the end of the questions, the rope had criss-crossed the circle, creating a web of connections. We talked about how it's those connections that make up a community. 

Then we did a free write on community and hung out. A few people practiced their poetry, asking one another for feedback. (this is about the time that I began to second guess the quality of my poetry, but I'd already signed up to compete.) I mingled and talked to a lot of people. They were friendly...and comfortable with each other. They were really touchy feely (not in a sexual way, but they just touched each other a lot. A lot more than homeschoolers do.)- which is something I've had little exposure to.

When the competition began, that's when the nerves sunk in. My stomach was doing backflips. I was fifth. I drank water like it was going out of style. But when I got up to the mike, I just performed. It was just me and my voice, and that's all that mattered. I performed, "Are You Happy Now?" first, and the poets were snapping almost the whole time. I watched the video of myself performing and I realize I could've paused more, but I was getting into it. Everyone cheered so loudly afterward. They all said it was great. Poets I deeply respect as better than me said it was really good. My new friend Meghan said she didn't cry a lot, but that almost made her cry. That it described her life exactly. Strangers in the audience- people I didn't even know told me it was beautiful. I was stunned. I scored really high as well. An 8, three 9's and a 10. I was so surprised and grateful for everyone's words. It was very validating.

The poem in particular (which is the one in the video above) is not a poem specifically about me. But it echoes my struggles with food over the recent months. The first time I performed this poem, was at Hundred Palms and it was difficult because my family and friends were there. I have put significant pieces of myself into this poem and it can be scary to lay yourself vulnerable before others. (Which is probably the reason why I chickened out and performed a different poem for CHET-SE's talent show in March) But it is a poem that is dear to my heart.

I ended up going to round two, in which I performed the train poem. It didn't score quite as high as the first, and it wasn't enough to get into the final round, but it was so satisfying to perform, I didn't even care. Except now, I have an impossible reputation to keep up. >.< They all said it was good the second time too, though their enthusiasm might've been a little less. I heard Meghan whisper a sweet low, "Darn." when they announced I hadn't made the top three. But I was too happy to worry about it. The other poets were outstanding; it was just as magical as watching videoes, only this time, I got to be part of it.

Afterwards, they had a rap battle in front of the cafe. It was so epic. Juanye was beatboxing, insults were flying, and teenagers cheering saying, "ohhhh!" with every great burn. It was cool. It almost made me wish I could freestyle rap. (almost!) When I got home, I just felt so...overstimulated, I guess. I needed to decompress, but not in a bad way. I just wanted to think. And I did. I couldn't stop thinking. *sigh* it was the most wonderful type of exhaustion I've ever felt. I felt encouraged, invigorated, inspired! It was such an amazing opportunity and I'm glad I didn't let my fear of being alone keep me from going. I realize now, that if I had gone with friends, I probably wouldn't have branched out to as many people.

I am so glad I took advantage of the opportunity to enter this community and be part of their family and I promised I would be back. It felt so amazing to just be accepted without having to prove myself,  (I think I did prove myself with my first poem.)  and I'll be working on some new poems for the next slam!

Essays, Essays, What is the Deal?

I have been writing A LOT of persuasive essays lately.. O_o And on all sorts of amazing topics(!) For instance, this morning, I wrote a nice lengthy five paragraph essay on the subject of minimum wage (not the most interesting topic if I dare say so myself.).

Minimum wage. Minimum wage. I don't really know anything about minimum wage. So I suppose it was nice that they gave me two sources on it. But it wasn't nice that the two sources opposed each other! (And I have use both sources in the essay.)

Ah, such is the nature of studying for the College Composition CLEP exam. I'm taking it on Tuesday (hopefully). The exam offers equivalent credit of a Freshman college writing course. There's a multiple choice section and two (TWO!) timed essays. Hence the reason why I've been writing so many essays.

Both essays are persuasive in nature, but one is dependent on prior knowledge and the other, as I mentioned above, requires you to cite the two given sources, using both in text citations and references at the bottom of the page. Anyone up for MLA, APA, or Chicago citations? We're serving them for lunch.

The first persuasive essay (30 min.) are actually not too bad. My only problem is that I am not all that logical of a person sometimes. Anyone who has actually talked to me for a long period of time, spent the night at my house, or witnessed my fits of giggling and laughter can attest to this. Sometimes, logic just goes out the window. And I like it that way. Unfortunately, I can't do that with these essays. Fortunately, I've been practicing lots and lots and lots! My style is good; it's just the arguing that needs a bit of polishing.

So yesterday, I spent like an hour just outlining the stupid things. I gave myself four minutes to come up with as many arguments for or against the topic as I could. Topics like, "Should welfare be abolished?" "is Romantic love a poor base for marriage?" "Do team sports develop good character?" "Should cigarette production and sale be illegal?" "Is privacy the most important right?" and so on and so forth with all manner of difficult topics! Some of them were rather enjoyable, however, and I may, or may not, go back and write the essays to go with some of these outlines... Or maybe I'll just ship the outlines away to mail friends who don't really care, just for the heck of it... Who knows?

At this point, I am feeling pretty confident about the test. My grammar and writing style are excellent; it's just coming up with those points! I will keep practicing. I will pass this test!!!

Shoot me an email if you want to read/critique some of these essays; I can always use the help. =)
dameesh_95 [at] yahoo [dot] com

Oh yeah, Did I mention that it takes up to six weeks to get my results back? Eep! o_O

Saved From Blithering Dust!: A NaNoWriMo Update

Greetings, people from the real world! Today, I have extricated myself from my solitary lair-- a hole whose depth knows no end to the amounts of tasks that require my personal assistance to complete. Menial things like chores and schoolwork and calming crying babies.. And before my very eyes, I watched my word count lead drop like a piece of lead falling through air. With nothing but feeble attempts to stop it. A tragedy, to be sure.


Making the tragedy even worse, like that of the likes of Shakespeare, was the fear, the paranoia, that accompanied it. I was deathly afraid that my story would not make it to 50,000 words! I'd had concerns in the beginning, but none so deep as the despair I felt today when I realized, I'd hit the climax of the novel at a measly 23,000 words! You cannot fathom how much it pained my heart to admit so. I simply did not know what to do.

Enter: Nicole.

*bling!*

I called Nicole and we talked for a mere 45 minutes on the phone and she had my story completely up and kicking'!!! She helped me develop my characters a bit more, fill in a few holes, and, last but not least, she offered many ideas for me to use to extend my plot (and word count) Yay Nicole!! As I later reported to my family, she truly saved my novel from becoming a blithering pile of dust (as the title of this post says.)

In case you are confused at this pnt in time, I shall explain. November is National Novel Writing Month-- a wonderful word filled challenge for writers across the world to write a wacky  amount of words in thirty days, or one month. (impressive alliteration though, huh?) the goal is the aforementioned 50,000 words. I successfully reached the goal the last two years and I'm hoping to again this year, thanks to Nicole!! (I swear, if I publish the beastly thing, I will dedicate it to her!)

My story this year is a modern retelling of the classic story of Hansel and Gretel, with a few new twists. The basic plot is this: After moving into their new step-Father's country mansion, two rebellious city kids get mixed up in something way beyond their initial suspicions of the old man living next door...

(*SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT!!* the old man who lives next door happens to be a cannibal who kidnaps children and eats them! Disclaimer: Although the author enjoys writing about cannibalism, she does it endorse or condone the practice in any way.)

Fun Facts:

-My decision to write a retelling of H&G was made several months ago when Bethany and I were brainstorming ideas we could write. And we decided to do an adaptation of a fairy tale and swap novels afterward! Just to see the differences and similarities. Because it'd be fun(!) I later realized that it was quite a challenge.

-Originally,  my story was to be set in cyberspace. But as I worked with the story, I realized that it was turning into more of a incestuous Internet romance (in which the brother and sister meet in an Internet chat room and inadvertently fall in love) and less of a tale about Hansel and Gretel. (I was kind of going for a Luke/Princess Leia type thing.... But not.) I was all prepared to write it too (as I had no better ideas and we were not two weeks from November first) but when I told Bethany, she strongly urged me to change my story. (Probably because she didn't want to read it, which is understandable.) Please don't ask me how I came up with that plot idea or question my moral soundness. Because, while I desire to be completely honest with my real life readers, I do not desire to spend the rest of my life living in a hole of shame. That's a reasonable request, I should think.

All that to say, that I have written a total of 0 words today. And yet this post is nearing the 700 word mark. But I shall leave you with hose thoughts for now. Til next time!

Bringing Down the Mammoth--a short story

Hugging and puffing and quite out of breath, Eh burst into the cave. His primitive eyes did not register the firelight casting its dancing shadows across the stone walls. Or the smoky odor of charred logs upon which nothing had been cooked for too long.

                Grunting and moaning in a kind of nonsensical language, Eh gestured wildly at the men lounging around the slowly dying fire. Eh was near frantic, “Come!” he grunted in the simple language they spoke. “Food. Not far. Mammoth. Big.” Eh gestured with his hands to show the massive size of the mammoth.

                The men, very excited at even the mention of food, jumped up. They grabbed their spears and harpoons-crude but deadly weapons, grunting, “Show. Show. Show food.” Eh led them away to the Mammoth. The women began to move as well, glimmers coming to their eyes as their stomachs growled in anticipation of food.

                The men jogged as they followed Eh through the rocky snow-covered terrain to the place where the mammoth was. In some places, the sharp rock cut through the soles of their shoes but they did not notice and kept on. Soon, the mammoth came into view. When they saw the Mammoth, the men jumped up and down in excitement. Food had been scarce for so long and before them was the equivalent of a feast.

                Eh grunted, warning them agains the mammoth’s strength. It was wounded but it was still very strong. Blood had stained and matted the fur around its torso. Since it had started to get colder, the animals slowly disappeared, or died, or went into hibernation. The mammoth would not have survived long.

                Quietly, the men spread out to surround the mammoth. Then they attacked. All at once, the men attacked the mammoth, jabbing their harpoons at it, trying to kill it. The mammoth fought back. Enraged, it swung its head around, knocking out one man with its trunk. Still the men persisted in stabbing it with their spears. The mammoth trumpeted its protest with several great blasts. But the men kept stabbing it. The mammoth heaved, gasping, desperately trying to stay alive. The men panted, tired from the work but determined to have the mammoth. They continued their attack on the mammoth. The mammoth took out more men but it was weakening. The mammoth collapsed, still struggling to stay alive. Then, it was dead.

                The men beat on their chests in triumph. As one, they converged upon it, ripping its flesh and shoving raw pieces of meat into their mouths as was custom for the men o fthe hunt. After they had filled their bellies, they hauled the carcass back up the slope to the cave so that the women and children could eat too.

                Everyone celebrated the return o fthe young men. They ate the rest of the mammoth and beat their fists upon their chests, shouting their triumph to all the world. Chief Ug took the blood of the Mammoth and bits of charcoal from the dying fire and painted pictures of the men fighting the mammoth on the mural on the inside wall of the cave. That night, with very full bellies, the little tribe slept very well.

I wrote this at the beginning of last year for a history (ancient civilizations-cavemen chapter) and I found it while I was cleaning my room today! :)

50K

Last night, I reached 50,000 words!!! Yay!!!!!!!!!!

I was so happy!! And so fried... I ended up writing about 4000 words yesterday. But I did it! The story completed itself at 50,130 words although I might add to it in the next week, rearrange scenes and what not. I was so tired when I finally got there, it was like my mind went kind of numb...

And then I proceeded to do my happy dances all around the house while singing "No Eating Here Tonight" from Finding Nemo.  Although, I must say, I think the effect was rather lost because I was really hungry at the time and it was nearing dinner... but no matter!! After the quiet numbness wore off, the excited giddiness set in. And I could not stop dancing all around the house. It was great fun.

And now, me and Bethany are planning to do a novel swap at some point (details still need to be worked out) and in the meantime, I will be rearranging scenes because this year, I didn't write my story in any sort of order, whatsoever. But following whims is one of the good parts about NaNoWriMo...

Now, though, I'm not really sure what to do with myself... I think I will be getting the NaNo Blues pretty soon. I'll probably end up filling the empty space with mail... (it's been piling since November started..)
and thus, I welcome myself back into the real world!!

I Have Decided...

I have decided that coffee is a wonderful thing. I used to not like it, just because it was bitter but you know, with a little bit of half and half and some sugar, it really isn't half bad!! I tried it one day when I was falling asleep during school so I poured myself a cup from the dregs in the pot and after drinking it, I felt more alert. It was amazing!! Although, the bitter aftertaste is a little hard to get past in the beginning, I don't think it's so bad!!

I used to dislike coffee because I had a bad experience with it. I'm like five years old and my job is to collect the dishes in the living room and put them in the sink. Most of the dishes in the living room were coffee cups. Usually, they were empty but on occasion there was coffee! Well, one day, I got the great idea of seeing what coffee would taste like!! O_o Looking back, I realize that the coffee was probably several days old but still, after that experience, I very highly disliked coffee for a while. And at the time, I didn't know any better! But still, it did not taste very good. And since then I haven't really liked coffee. But recently, I've been trying tastes of it here and there and recently, I've drunk whole cups of the stuff.

But I'm not an addict or anything so no need to worry (yet).

I am also discovering that it seems to go straight to your bladder. T_T But I think the alertness is worth it! But ultimately I think that it depends on my mood. I won't drink it if I don't feel like it. But I just had a cup today to help me keep up on my writing. I was starting to feel some brain-deadness so I had some to give me the stamina to keep writing. But I am most tired of looking at screens. I am so close to 3,000 words for today though, that I will probably just finish that up and call it a day.

41,033 words!!

Also, in other notes, Aunt Colleen arrived today! Hooray! It is so good to see her again! I will post our adventures with her later.

My New Pet

I am pleased to announce that I have a new pet!!!
His name is Fred!!
He is a typewriter!!

Yes indeedy!! I bought this lovely typewriter at a garage sale for-wait for this... five dollars!!!! It is so amazing!! Cameron has been begging me to let him use it ever since I brought it home. I told him no... Dad got it to work for the most part. The ribbon is old so we just messed around with a piece of paper. It was great. :) Writing nonsense sentences on this clunky old typewriter...

But anyways, Cam is dying to use the thing and I keep telling him no because I don't know how to work it!! (Soon enough, I will have the skills... soon enough!) But for the time being? I don't. And dad doesn't always have the time or interest to help us... hmm. I will have to find someone else. I have already pleaded to the Amazing Typewriter Brigade from Nanowrimo and they were very helpful indeed.  They told me where I can find ribbons for this. Hooray!!

All in all, I am very enamored with Fred. (I have always loved the way typewriters looked!! I don't know why... And I started wanting one after someone wrote me a letter with a typwriter... it was FABULOUS!!) I just don't know how to use it...

Another typewriter was also mentioned in this post. For those of you who might (or might not, as the case may be) be interested. Hmm, now that I've looked at the picture better, I think that other typewriter is cooler... but Fred is cool too.

More Pictures:

 Did I mention it comes in a super awesome case??

Of Finger Mustaches, Snowman Pajamas, and Walking with the Old Man

I wish I had more better pictures to show you... but I don't. And I took this myself (which is why it looks so bad!) Seriously, I don't get people who can sit there and take tons of pictures of themselves... For one thing, you always end up with your arm looking like it has cancer! And then, whenever I do it, I always feel like such a dork. This was one of those moments. The reason I'm smiling? Not because I just painted myself into the painting of Mona Lisa. No, I'm smiling because I feel ridiculous taking pictures of myself. (that's why you don't see very many pictures of me on this blog; cuz it doesn't happen if someone else doesn't do it.)

So, for Halloween, I dressed up as a French painter and I had a FABULOUS finger mustache (which I didn't get a picture of, sadly.) We went to a church fall festival (the big church...) and Cameron got a lot more candy than I did!! It wasn't fair. I think I'm getting too old. I feel weird and awkward saying "trick or treat" now. But somehow, by the grace of Cam and also Sydney and also Miss Darlene and soon to be, possibly, hopefully, Daniel, I will have more than enough candy to last me through November. (Noveling snacks!)

When I wasn't getting very much candy, I was like, "I declare socialism when it comes to candy distribution!" (I am learning much about socialism in history. Everyone works according to their ability, and takes according to their needs.) And Dad looked at me from pawing through Cam's candy bag and said, "Yeah, get out of her Frenchie!" XD It was so funny!! I just laughed. Next year, I am dressing up as a mahjong tile!!! We'll see how that one works out...

Then today, when I walked the dog, I decided I would wear my pajamas out. Because I can. Because I felt like it! And I decided that just for this morning, I wouldn't care what anyone thought of me! It was all very great fun. I imagined all the looks people were giving me as they drove by. It amuses me. And I was really super warm! Last Christmas, Mom made me a pair of flannel snowman pajamas (actually, the whole family has matching pairs.) and I wore a pair of leggings underneath. My goodness! It was so warm!! I wish I had a picture but again with the taking pictures of myself thing.


And on Monday, I was walking in the evening and I saw an older man (okay, he was an old man. But not like, frail or anything..). And we know the man...sort of. His name is Carl and he has a dog named Daisy and we walk by his house every morning with Pat. So I caught up with him and decided to walk next to him and talk to him as if we'd been friends for a long time!! :) I explained who I was of course. And we talked about his dog and how he tries to walk her for an hour every day. And I told him I missed seeing him in the mornings... It was a nice conversation. Nice dog. nice walk... It was all very nice.

On a side note, I think I have *drumroll* 4,288 words!!! and more writing today! I'm going to hit 5,000 today. I am I am I am!! I think I wrote 2,000 ish words yesterday...

That Time of Year Again...

NaNoWriMo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, It's that time of year again. Yes folks, it is NaNoWriMo Time!!!! NaNoWriMo (wri as in write-not wree...) National Novel Writing Month. November 1st-30th. 50,000 words of fiction in 30 days and it starts tonight... O_o 

Can someone please scream and run around in circles please? Thank you!

As of right now, I have about four hours before the madness begins... and only a vague sense of plot.

This is what I posted in the forums:

So far, mine will be about fake religion and hypocrisy (now that I'm thinking about it, it the main fake religion will probably be similar to how the Pope took control of the Roman Catholic Church..) And it's all very mindless and zombie-like and this fake religion is mainly just recruiting... I guess it's also kind of like a cult.
But there is a group of children who breaks away from the mindlessness and probably tries to overthrow the figure that is a parallel to the Pope and undermine the whole religion and establish a true faith... I don't know. Something along those lines

Popes and Cults and Rebellion! That is the extent of my plot so far! 8 hours and no beginning, I hope I can get my hands on some mountain dew tonight! Midnight tonight!! It's on!!

Feel free to badger me about it any time you want! Ask me about my wordcount! Ask me how my characters are doing! Ask me how much caffeine/candy I've consumed!! (I've begun hoarding some awesome stuff for my super secret nano fuel/stash!! And I will be adding to it later tonight!!)

On a side note, for Halloween, I'm dressing up as a very French artist. And I have a super awesome finger mustache!!! Will post pictures later!! Happy Halloween/Almost November!!

Goodies from the mailman

I declare, I have the BEST mailman in the world!! (or at least our town!)

He happens to know how much I love letters (judging by the fact that I probably send out and receive the most amazing mail he's ever seen!) and consequently office supplies and so he left these treasures in our mailbox this morning!! Isn't that nice!!! our mailman is awesome!!!

For some odd reason, I feel the need to sum this up in conditional statements! Yay for applying what we've learned in school!!!

Major Premise: If you like writing letters, then you like office supplies.
Minor Premise: Misha likes writing letters.
Conclusion: Therefore, Misha likes office supplies!!!

Therefore, my statement above saying that Chip (for that is our mailman's name) knows I like office supplies is correct if we are using these premises. Don't you love logic? It is probably the most pointless thing I've learned in math so far but it is quite a lot of fun!

The Joy Comes in the Morning!

So this week has been a week of burning midnight oil as it is. Early mornings and late nights certainly make for grogginess. But I was determined. On Saturday night, I pounded out the last seven pages of novel editing!! It was close to midnight and I was extremely tired after teaching English and Saturday night service but I DID IT!!! I was so exhausted that I didn't even celebrate until yesterday. I just turned on my music and crashed.

I'm still a little stoked about it. O_o I mean, seriously? That's it? It really wasn't so bad. And I could've been done earlier if it hadn't been for Awana Quizzing. Now, I'm in the home stretch and for all of you folks who are waiting to read it, the end is in sight!!

I began typing the edits in last night. It's an utter nightmare in all respects but thankfully, I don't have to sift through everything. I am bent on finishing and I will! I finished typing in chapter one and I'm most of the way through chapter two. I'll probably try to finish it tonight but I think I owe it to myself to go to bed early. What makes it so hard is that in the editing process, I rearranged the scenes so now, I'm having to skim through the document to find the scene I want, edit it, and cut and paste it to the right place. It's a lot faster since I'm keeping a lot of the original text.

Pictures of some edited pages can be found in this post Sorry I don't have any new pictures.

100 More Stamps

We made another trip to the post office today. They are very nice people, you know that? Especially when you are buying a hundred stamps from them. Actually One hundred and ten because we got some postcard stamps too.

I had to buy the stamps myself to reimburse her (it was a fast fifty bucks.) and I get an allotment of twenty for the month. After that, I have to start asking and she's going to hide them too. Dang it! lol. But guess what! She admitted to sending valentines too so that means I only used EIGHTY stamps instead of ninety. Isn't that great news? It makes me feel exceptionally better about myself even though it's still a lot. and now, there are only twenty stamps I cannot specifically account for. (that wasn't valentines, invitations, thank yous, or mail art.) I can easily go through 20 stamps so I'm sure I used them.

The Joys(!) of Editing

Guess who was a good little girl and edited ten pages today?!? Me! =D

Yep, yep, yep! I edited a whopping 10 pages today!

Here is the pic of the manuscript before I attacked it with my pens and highlighters! and my flashdrive is on top.

 

And here are some of the pages that have given me the nightmares!

As you can see, it is very VERY marked up. And this is only three pages! Can you say "scary"? This is why it is taking me so long for all y'all to read it! But I'm over halfway through page-wise and I'm at halfway regarding chapters. Once I finish though, I'll be sure to send it out to everyone who wants it.

 Naturally, I've come across a lot of hilarious errors and mistakes, playfully called "nano-isms" Some of the best:

• "sighing, Jason briefly briefed him."
• "everyone has their own personal preferences"
• "he had a very reputable reputation"

Department of Redundancy Department please?

 

Redundancies aside,

As of now, I have edited 57 pages! Yay! 61%! I did the math the other day and if I edit a minimum of 2 pages per day, I will finish by February 20th! However, I fell behind during the weekend (I didn't edit a thing!) so I'm caught up as of today. I am that much closer to being done! Then comes the type in. Joy(!)