It was just a few posts ago that I made a promise to myself to post like everyday. And yup, look how that turned out. But in my defense I had finals.
In the time that has lapsed since my other posts, I have gotten into two of my colleges. And that is all I am going to say about that.
It seems like I am never going to pass that 500 word mark.
I miss... I not sure what I miss, but I am missing something. I just feel oddly empty and all those Emo stereotypes.
I need a hug.
Hmmm, what to type what to type, That Is The Question
*
*
*
Once upon a November in a small town in the middle of here and there, it snowed. Now this is not at all out of the ordinary. This small town was incredibly ordinary. Even its name was ordinary. The town was called Casper Lake after the lake that resides to the west of it. The town was small with one main road that had all the three shops and four restaurants, three schools one elementary one middle school one high school, and a small factory that made tissue boxes and another that made salsa. Most of the residents of the town worked either in the factories or in the city that was two hours north of the town.
"Oh, dearest God of mine, what is this crap that I am writing" howled the insane looking human who was now ripping up a piece of paper that was just in the typewriter. This somewhat less then balanced human was actually a girl, something you would not be able to tell if you were to look at her from a distance. With her hair that was at some parts right below her chin and at others above her ears, her sweatpants three sizes to big with the crotch near her knees, her oversized jumper that looked comfy in that covered in stains filled with holes very lived in way. What gave away her gender was her face, it was to feminine to belong to a man. This girls name was Matti. As a child she aspired to be an astronaut, but when she realized that meant long years in an Engineering school she decided to be an artist. She was a surprisingly good artist or at least that is what the art critics say, the critics find her art deep and full of strong and subtle emotions. Her mother says otherwise, her mother feels like all Matti does is haphazardly throw paint at a canvas. This is in truth what Matti does but Matti feels that if someone would like to believe that she actually thinks about what she is painting, let them. People are more willing to pay higher prices for art that has backstory.
It was three days ago that Matti decided to start writing. She was on her way back from a showing of her latest works with the knowledge that two of her paintings had been bought for the combined intake of nine-thousand six-hundred and forty-three dollars, she was also slightly high, someone had put some lit weed in every single air vent, when she saw a puke green typewriter sitting in the display window of a greasy looking pawnshop. Matti knew at that moment what she wanted to do with the rest of her life: sit at a desk next to an open window overlooking the Eiffel Tower, while sipping coffee and typing on this very typewriter.
The shop was closed so Matti vowed to herself to come back the next day to buy the first step of her happiness. When she woke up at three twenty-four P.M., she took a shower, ate, changed into clothes that did not reek of smoke and wine, and watched the clock strike five oh five and then decided it was a good time to go to the pawnshop. It was only after five blocks of walking did Matti realize that she could not remember where the shop was located. Matti went back to her apartment.
The first thing she did was turn on the laptop she had bought two years earlier, it was a chunky looking black thing with a few missing keys from the keyboard and a few flicks of paint in the screen that would just not come off, Matti had bought it with the money that she got from selling a photograph of a shoe that she had stuck Hello Kitty stickers on. She then proceeded to go on Ebay using the internet she stole from the apartment below her and proceeded to buy the first typewriter on the list that indicated that the seller agrees to let you buy immediately. Matti also paid for overnight shipping. The total cost was around three-hundred dollars, the shipping cost nearly double that of the typewriter itself.
When Matti got her typewriter the next day, she placed it on the makeshift desk she had fashioned the day before out of slabs of wood, paint cans and cardboard boxes. She then poured herself a glass of cheap red wine she had bought yesterday into an old plastic cup that comes with kid's meals in chain restaurants and lit three huge candles that had no bases that were destined to drip wax and leave a mess. Matti did not open her window; the air outside smelt of garbage, and she decided on wine instead of coffee because it made her feel French. To make her feel even more French, Matti had opera playing from the old boom box that played both tapes and CDs. Matti did not realize that she was listening to Italian opera, not that she would have cared if she did know.
Matti took a small sip of her wine, it tasted so retched it made her feel extremely sophisticated even though she was not sipping it from a glass, and placed her hands on the keys of the typewriter. The typewriter she had bought could not hold a flame to the beautifully ugly sickly green one she saw in the pawnshop, this on was shiny blue with an engraved name on the back that read Michel, it was much to nice for Matti's taste but Matti plans to paint it or at least cover it in old scratch and sniff stickers after she finishes her first great novel. Sadly, her hovering fingers stay that way, hovering. It seems unlike painting where she could fake emotion, writing did not allow her to do that. And she could not think of anything to write. She then decided to write about the most wonderfully boring town that she could imagine. Matti wanted to retire to a boring town with rundown houses made of wood.
The fictional town that Matti dreamt of and was sure that is was real, would be surrounded by either a small forrest or of just miles and miles of nothing. It would be full of teenagers dreaming of escaping and old washed-out has-beens who wished they could have escaped. It would be the type of town that would give Matti a warm welcome when they hear that she would move there even though no one will know of any of Matti's work, they will just know that she is a rich eccentric artist coming from the big city, and she would be the town celebrity. That was until they find out that Matti talks very little, but they will confuse her quiet demeanor with conceitedness and they will soon all turn on Matti. The town's people that once flaunted her would slowly start spreading lies of her rudeness and how she believed herself better than them. She would be like a nice female Mr. Darcy. Sadly, Matti did not have the ability to transfer these ideas onto paper. This lead to hands covered in black ink from her ripping of still wet sheets of paper into small pieces.
For someone so relaxed with life, Matti is very passionate about books. Her apartment is filled with stacks of old paperbacks, used hardcovers, and a few books that she rescued from dumpsters. Matti knew what good writing was, and what she was writing was an example of everything she hated. When It came to writing, Matti demanded perfection and she was not producing that. The way Hemingway's words flow so easily and the way Pamuk uses imagery was something that Matti could not do. When all the wine had either been drunk or poured down the drain and the stack of papers Matti bought just for her novel had started to finish, Matti decided to realize that she had no hope for being a writer. This thought brought tears to her eyes, but Matti ignored her sight as it got blurry and chose to blowout the candles that had made great waxy puddles on her floor.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Bla didi Bla didi da
OK, let us try to post at least once a day. If I keep on writing, even meaningless things, I will stay in practice. At least with typing.
There once was a girl named Sam, who ate to much ham and then she went and swam, so she drowned and died. The end.
I have a physics midterm tomorrow, happy happy joy joy. May sarcasm ring from every bell on this joyous evening.
One of these days, I am going to write something that is over five hundred words. Or maybe over a hundred.
Cheers.
There once was a girl named Sam, who ate to much ham and then she went and swam, so she drowned and died. The end.
I have a physics midterm tomorrow, happy happy joy joy. May sarcasm ring from every bell on this joyous evening.
One of these days, I am going to write something that is over five hundred words. Or maybe over a hundred.
Cheers.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
A Story
Munching slowly on the eraser of her green pencil, she daydreamed of a boy. His name was Cat ...
and then my inspiration died... Well, that is proof I should never become a writer or a poet (my poetry sucks butt). Maybe I can just become a philanthropist, wait that was random. And you also need money to do that.
Today I discovered a song that I used to listen to back in 2007 called Robot High School:
Still makes me dance...
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Old writings
I am not sure if I posted these on my blog but whatever. Most of these poems were written when I was in tenth or ninth grade, so beware.
Black
The world is black. At least that is how it is to me. My eyes are doorways to the dark abyss.
Is this the world of the blind?? Sitting idle in our little safe zone hoping nothing will happen???
Event when we close our eyes we cannot experience the world of darkness that haunts the blind. We cannot learn to see with our ears and hands no matter how hard we try. If we lose our way we open our eyes a crack. The light piercing the dark. Making it wither and withdraw. This allows us to find our way so easily.
We can never ever event begin to imagine being blind and lost. For it is not the blind that are sitting idle in comfort zones but the seeing.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Think Positively
Think positively
You will be happier
The world will have a shine
All your dreams will come true
Ooh ya, you will also face hearts breaks every second
Things don't always go your way
The world is not a nice place
Its built on broken dreams
Only when you admit that
Can you start living
Hiding behind rose tinted glasses
Will only bring sadness
Be realistic
Your dreams wont always come true
Things wont always go your way
Believing that it will make your heart break
And broken hearts hurt like...
____
When I try to be positive, when I think everything will be great, when I think a day is perfect
I end up crying
Back home
All alone
My greatest moments happen when I think negatively
Or more realistically
Because life proves me wrong
And that feeling is better then anything in the world
____
When you think positively,
When bad stuff happens,
When you fail,
Life really sucks
You feel like crap
When good stuff happens,
You don't really get excited
You already knew that god thing was gonna happen,
Or at the least you were expecting it
When you think realistically,
When bad stuff happens,
You were expecting it,
You don't feel as sad,
So ya,
And when the world proves you wrong,
And all goes right,
It feels amazing
It feels right…
____
Proof:
*I thought I was gonna do soo bad at BERMUN,
I called my friend, nearly crying
And I became a main submitter
*I thought I was not going to get into MUN
cause I rushed and stuttered through my speech
but I got in
*I thought that I was going to die one night
I woke up alive :P
*I thought that my friends gave a shit about my Birthday
I was wrong (this does not include thani thanawi or maism or doodi or lulu)
*I thought I bought Sims 2
I got a fake
*I thought that my parent were gonna get me a thing I really wanted
They did not
Soo ya
Thank you :)
//////////////////////////////////////////////////
I am a Storm
Flexible
Flexibility
Adaptable
Accommodate
Ever heard of these words???
I guess not
Because you are obsessed with your cookie-cutter essays,
Looks,
Words,
Everything,
Not every one is like you
Like your perfect little vision
We are our own people
And you can’t control me
You never will be able to
I’m a storm
Deduct my marks
Get me in trouble
I’m going far places
And you are never gonna move
Change
Learn
You say you want to teach us to be leaders of tomorrow
Truthfully you are teaching us how to be followers of today and ever
You are not helping us
You are bring us down
You lie
You discriminate
You CRUSH creativity
And that is why
We will always hate you
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Type type type and see what comes out no backspacs no editing let your mistakes shine like stars because that is what mistakes are . when they r first born they shine and shine but no worries they will die but sadly the after affect of the mistake still lives with us we most learn to ignore them.
Reaserch reasech I hate spelling lol spelling is for the weak minded
When false is reality and reality is false.
Dragons. Flying on the sky. That's what I do. Watch them. Blue brown red. Black. A waste of time is what land lady says. Better off focusing on my job. Shucking corn. I do both. Watch and work. I want to fly. Like the dragons.
“Where is that good for nuthin’?”
vocabulary makes u sound smart.
Vocabulary makes one
Bored
What to call this?
Ode to long lay overs
I hate I love I am
Love? Hate? Wich is wich?
Why is spelling important?
Itachi’s theme song has finished
Now mystical ninjas I belive ahh no shikamaru’s theme
How do people write?
How do they get words on apaper?
How do they link one sentence to another?
How do they stick to topic?
When writing a story…
What 22 write
Let the words flow
No wrong or right just me and me beliving
Writing what comes 2 mind
Tears. They were all crying, so was I. I did not want to die. A fool could sence the lust in him. The lust for blood, our blood.
In the world of dragons , elfs and mygic Non mygicals were considered the lowest of the low. Mothers killed their non mygical children or left them in the slums and waste areas. Rats were more revered then the non magicals. For rats had mygic benefits. I was two when I was left at the slums of the fourth sector. AKA: the worst of the worst. I had less mygic then a door knob there for I was useless.
Fucked sector is what the inhabitants call it. That is because if you live here your have been fucked over are fucked over or will be fucked over by a mygical.
I walk to the job asined to me by the sector head. The roads are filth and there are bodies of dead that have yet to be carted off littering the paths. This is a normal walk to work for me.
In the world of dragons , elfs and mygic Non mygicals were considered the lowest of the low. Mothers killed their non mygical children or left them in the slums and waste areas. Rats were more revered then the non magicals. For rats had mygic benefits.
Ona stood at the gate of the Fourth Sector of The City of Igar. The walls around the sector were over 50 paces high. To a out of towner the 4th sector might be the home of the richand the walls were for keeping the rifraf out. Ona knew this comin mistakes was far far from what the truth was. Igar’s
Sarcasm is what I do
////////////////////////////////////
Ok I realized that some of this is not poems at all
wow... I wrote weird stuff
Black
The world is black. At least that is how it is to me. My eyes are doorways to the dark abyss.
Is this the world of the blind?? Sitting idle in our little safe zone hoping nothing will happen???
Event when we close our eyes we cannot experience the world of darkness that haunts the blind. We cannot learn to see with our ears and hands no matter how hard we try. If we lose our way we open our eyes a crack. The light piercing the dark. Making it wither and withdraw. This allows us to find our way so easily.
We can never ever event begin to imagine being blind and lost. For it is not the blind that are sitting idle in comfort zones but the seeing.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Think Positively
Think positively
You will be happier
The world will have a shine
All your dreams will come true
Ooh ya, you will also face hearts breaks every second
Things don't always go your way
The world is not a nice place
Its built on broken dreams
Only when you admit that
Can you start living
Hiding behind rose tinted glasses
Will only bring sadness
Be realistic
Your dreams wont always come true
Things wont always go your way
Believing that it will make your heart break
And broken hearts hurt like...
____
When I try to be positive, when I think everything will be great, when I think a day is perfect
I end up crying
Back home
All alone
My greatest moments happen when I think negatively
Or more realistically
Because life proves me wrong
And that feeling is better then anything in the world
____
When you think positively,
When bad stuff happens,
When you fail,
Life really sucks
You feel like crap
When good stuff happens,
You don't really get excited
You already knew that god thing was gonna happen,
Or at the least you were expecting it
When you think realistically,
When bad stuff happens,
You were expecting it,
You don't feel as sad,
So ya,
And when the world proves you wrong,
And all goes right,
It feels amazing
It feels right…
____
Proof:
*I thought I was gonna do soo bad at BERMUN,
I called my friend, nearly crying
And I became a main submitter
*I thought I was not going to get into MUN
cause I rushed and stuttered through my speech
but I got in
*I thought that I was going to die one night
I woke up alive :P
*I thought that my friends gave a shit about my Birthday
I was wrong (this does not include thani thanawi or maism or doodi or lulu)
*I thought I bought Sims 2
I got a fake
*I thought that my parent were gonna get me a thing I really wanted
They did not
Soo ya
Thank you :)
//////////////////////////////////////////////////
I am a Storm
Flexible
Flexibility
Adaptable
Accommodate
Ever heard of these words???
I guess not
Because you are obsessed with your cookie-cutter essays,
Looks,
Words,
Everything,
Not every one is like you
Like your perfect little vision
We are our own people
And you can’t control me
You never will be able to
I’m a storm
Deduct my marks
Get me in trouble
I’m going far places
And you are never gonna move
Change
Learn
You say you want to teach us to be leaders of tomorrow
Truthfully you are teaching us how to be followers of today and ever
You are not helping us
You are bring us down
You lie
You discriminate
You CRUSH creativity
And that is why
We will always hate you
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Type type type and see what comes out no backspacs no editing let your mistakes shine like stars because that is what mistakes are . when they r first born they shine and shine but no worries they will die but sadly the after affect of the mistake still lives with us we most learn to ignore them.
Reaserch reasech I hate spelling lol spelling is for the weak minded
When false is reality and reality is false.
Dragons. Flying on the sky. That's what I do. Watch them. Blue brown red. Black. A waste of time is what land lady says. Better off focusing on my job. Shucking corn. I do both. Watch and work. I want to fly. Like the dragons.
“Where is that good for nuthin’?”
vocabulary makes u sound smart.
Vocabulary makes one
Bored
What to call this?
Ode to long lay overs
I hate I love I am
Love? Hate? Wich is wich?
Why is spelling important?
Itachi’s theme song has finished
Now mystical ninjas I belive ahh no shikamaru’s theme
How do people write?
How do they get words on apaper?
How do they link one sentence to another?
How do they stick to topic?
When writing a story…
What 22 write
Let the words flow
No wrong or right just me and me beliving
Writing what comes 2 mind
Tears. They were all crying, so was I. I did not want to die. A fool could sence the lust in him. The lust for blood, our blood.
In the world of dragons , elfs and mygic Non mygicals were considered the lowest of the low. Mothers killed their non mygical children or left them in the slums and waste areas. Rats were more revered then the non magicals. For rats had mygic benefits. I was two when I was left at the slums of the fourth sector. AKA: the worst of the worst. I had less mygic then a door knob there for I was useless.
Fucked sector is what the inhabitants call it. That is because if you live here your have been fucked over are fucked over or will be fucked over by a mygical.
I walk to the job asined to me by the sector head. The roads are filth and there are bodies of dead that have yet to be carted off littering the paths. This is a normal walk to work for me.
In the world of dragons , elfs and mygic Non mygicals were considered the lowest of the low. Mothers killed their non mygical children or left them in the slums and waste areas. Rats were more revered then the non magicals. For rats had mygic benefits.
Ona stood at the gate of the Fourth Sector of The City of Igar. The walls around the sector were over 50 paces high. To a out of towner the 4th sector might be the home of the richand the walls were for keeping the rifraf out. Ona knew this comin mistakes was far far from what the truth was. Igar’s
Sarcasm is what I do
////////////////////////////////////
Ok I realized that some of this is not poems at all
wow... I wrote weird stuff
This blog needs a new look
Dear Blog,
You are ugly
The end.
I still have not been able to find the perfect layout for my blog that screams ME. I have had over ten layouts for this blog, and like the blog's name, nothing seems to stick. What I need is a layout that is simple yet ... hmmm I don't know... sigh. OK the only way to find out what I want is to list what I want and what I don't want:
I like simple
I like dark colored lines
I like having the side bar on the left
All those seem easy enough to find... lets get looking!
I also need a new name for this blog. Nameless is so cliche and slightly emo. I am most definitely not an emo child. I am a hyper self-proclaimed pessimist who is actually a closet optimist! Maybe that could be my blogs new name: The Diary of a self-proclaimed pessimist who is actually a closet optimist. I like it! But it is a bit to long, just a bit.
Who cares? Until I find a better name, that will be this blogs new name.
A toast!
You are ugly
The end.
I still have not been able to find the perfect layout for my blog that screams ME. I have had over ten layouts for this blog, and like the blog's name, nothing seems to stick. What I need is a layout that is simple yet ... hmmm I don't know... sigh. OK the only way to find out what I want is to list what I want and what I don't want:
I like simple
I like dark colored lines
I like having the side bar on the left
All those seem easy enough to find... lets get looking!
I also need a new name for this blog. Nameless is so cliche and slightly emo. I am most definitely not an emo child. I am a hyper self-proclaimed pessimist who is actually a closet optimist! Maybe that could be my blogs new name: The Diary of a self-proclaimed pessimist who is actually a closet optimist. I like it! But it is a bit to long, just a bit.
Who cares? Until I find a better name, that will be this blogs new name.
A toast!
The New Year
Welcome 2011, let us see what you bring to the table?
College deadlines - hmm that is both good and bad
College rejection letters - BAAAD
College acceptance letters - GOOOD
Finals - 2010 had them too
Senior Project Deadlines - Meh
College - both good and bad
Graduation - Heaven
Saying bye to my friends - HELL
God please help me through this year. Please help with graduating and college and everting else too. I am depending on you.
College deadlines - hmm that is both good and bad
College rejection letters - BAAAD
College acceptance letters - GOOOD
Finals - 2010 had them too
Senior Project Deadlines - Meh
College - both good and bad
Graduation - Heaven
Saying bye to my friends - HELL
God please help me through this year. Please help with graduating and college and everting else too. I am depending on you.
My type of hero
Once upon a time that happened not that long ago and not to far away
In a land that is neither here nor there
There lived a princess with brown hair
She was average height with a little tummy
She was not extremely clever and just a bit funny
She likes to cook and dancing but is not very good at either
She was nothing if not absolutely incredibly normal
She was never captured by a dragon
Or a wizard for that matter
and she never had reason to be rescued by a prince
She was as fair and as wise as a young girl could be
riddled with flaws and thoughts of good deeds
She tried to always do her best and when that fails she would give up
This is why this girl is my hero
she is someone just like me
....................................
This was a really weird poem thing that I started writing during my global issues class... I wonder how it turned out??
PS Afnan is the greatest ever <3
She pretty much saves my life everyday and I love her tons. I am going to miss her like hell when I go to college.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Once Upon
a winter's night
a had a very .......... fright
might
kite
fight
-----
All these college essays have made me loose insparation
they make writing feel like a chore
-----
a had a very .......... fright
might
kite
fight
-----
All these college essays have made me loose insparation
they make writing feel like a chore
-----
Monday, December 27, 2010
Tufts Optional Essay
The first time I baked a cake from scratch, it turned out amazing: super moist, super yummy, and just, well, super. (And yes, my mother did do most of the backing, but hey! I helped.)
That is when I decided that I would never again bake a cake from a box, or a package, or anything similar. Instead I would only make cakes from scratch. And thus, I began my journey into the lovely world of being covered in flour.
The second time I tried to make a cake from scratch (this time without my mother) well...
I decided to use a recipe I found online, it seemed pretty easy, I mean how hard can carrot cake be?
Five minutes into the baking process: "Hey mom, sorry for bothering you at work, but what the heck are purred carrots? And what do walnuts look like?"
My first few attempts baking on my own ended with burt carrots, burnt fingers, and a cake that mysteriously turned green. But I never let that get me down; I kept baking more and more. And soon enough I had the ability to make a killer red velvet cake, an amazing german chocolate cake, and a perfect carrot cake.
I, then, started trying to bake things that were not cake: I made pies, mountains of cookies, brownies, breads, muffins...etc. And slowly but surely, I started getting better at baking in general. I started playing around with the recipes I once followed religiously: adding ingredients, taking others away, changing them to suite my needs.
And now I can confidently say that if try anything I make, you won't food poisoning, but your waistline might increase.
That is when I decided that I would never again bake a cake from a box, or a package, or anything similar. Instead I would only make cakes from scratch. And thus, I began my journey into the lovely world of being covered in flour.
The second time I tried to make a cake from scratch (this time without my mother) well...
I decided to use a recipe I found online, it seemed pretty easy, I mean how hard can carrot cake be?
Five minutes into the baking process: "Hey mom, sorry for bothering you at work, but what the heck are purred carrots? And what do walnuts look like?"
My first few attempts baking on my own ended with burt carrots, burnt fingers, and a cake that mysteriously turned green. But I never let that get me down; I kept baking more and more. And soon enough I had the ability to make a killer red velvet cake, an amazing german chocolate cake, and a perfect carrot cake.
I, then, started trying to bake things that were not cake: I made pies, mountains of cookies, brownies, breads, muffins...etc. And slowly but surely, I started getting better at baking in general. I started playing around with the recipes I once followed religiously: adding ingredients, taking others away, changing them to suite my needs.
And now I can confidently say that if try anything I make, you won't food poisoning, but your waistline might increase.
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