Pages
▼
Thursday, December 30, 2010
:)
One journal filled. Four to go. Hopefully the next journal does not take another five years to fill. I need to stay focused and constantly practice writing. I need to get better at this thing that I love to do. If I am ever going to be published, I need to work hard perfect my skills. I am sorry this is so short I just wanted to type at least a little something. I just wrote four pages in my journal in order to complete it so I am a little worn out when it comes to writing for now.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
story again
I remember it all too well. How could I forget that Dean was in an accident? When it happened, it seemed as though the world stopped turning briefly. It was all anyone was talking about. It even made the local news.
It was the project in composition class at the community college that would bring us together in the end. We were told to write about an important person and/or event in our lives. It goes without saying that Dean wrote as much about the accident as he could recall. His therapist told him that he needed to constantly talk about it. By blocking it out, it was only hurting him. I wrote about a guy who I had a big crush on all through school but barely noticed me as anything than a friend.
We were assigned as partners to do peer editing. I revealed a lot about myself in the brief memoir that I wrote. I was afraid that he would be able to put a name with a face in the short part that he read.
"This is really good," he remarked one day, "You know, I do remember you vaguely from school. I am sorry about this guy though. It seems as though he missed out."
I could not help but smile at this point. I could also feel myself blushing.
"Don't go there," I told myself, "It would not work out and he probably has a girlfriend."
I was lost in my own train of thoughts when I heard his voice in the background.
"Want to go out sometime," he asked.
"What," I replied with a startle as I came back into reality.
"What did you think of mine," he replied hastily.
"Oh yeah, sorry. It was good. I did not know a lot about the accident. All I ever heard were rumors. It is brave of you to talk about it."
"Thanks," he said smugly.
I would never have thought of him as a writer. He was the genius type. You know the type that is freakishly good at math and science. The type that was good at everything and constantly surprises everyone. I did not recall him having a lot of friends in school but I think that was because everyone was intimidated by him. No one wanted to have a friend who was so much smarter than them. They all thought of him as a nerd or a geek. I thought of him as amazing and mysterious. I always wanted to know more about him but was too afraid to talk to him. In truth, he intimated me as much as the rest of our classmates.
It was the project in composition class at the community college that would bring us together in the end. We were told to write about an important person and/or event in our lives. It goes without saying that Dean wrote as much about the accident as he could recall. His therapist told him that he needed to constantly talk about it. By blocking it out, it was only hurting him. I wrote about a guy who I had a big crush on all through school but barely noticed me as anything than a friend.
We were assigned as partners to do peer editing. I revealed a lot about myself in the brief memoir that I wrote. I was afraid that he would be able to put a name with a face in the short part that he read.
"This is really good," he remarked one day, "You know, I do remember you vaguely from school. I am sorry about this guy though. It seems as though he missed out."
I could not help but smile at this point. I could also feel myself blushing.
"Don't go there," I told myself, "It would not work out and he probably has a girlfriend."
I was lost in my own train of thoughts when I heard his voice in the background.
"Want to go out sometime," he asked.
"What," I replied with a startle as I came back into reality.
"What did you think of mine," he replied hastily.
"Oh yeah, sorry. It was good. I did not know a lot about the accident. All I ever heard were rumors. It is brave of you to talk about it."
"Thanks," he said smugly.
I would never have thought of him as a writer. He was the genius type. You know the type that is freakishly good at math and science. The type that was good at everything and constantly surprises everyone. I did not recall him having a lot of friends in school but I think that was because everyone was intimidated by him. No one wanted to have a friend who was so much smarter than them. They all thought of him as a nerd or a geek. I thought of him as amazing and mysterious. I always wanted to know more about him but was too afraid to talk to him. In truth, he intimated me as much as the rest of our classmates.
Monday, December 27, 2010
My goal..
Is to complete my journal before the end of the year. I have been writing in the same journal since I graduated high school in 2005. When I was flipping through it, I cannot believe how much I have changed in just five years. I have grown up a lot. I am mature. I am responsible. Sure, I like to goof off and have a good time. But when it comes time to get to business, I know where my priorities are. I focus on school, God, and work. Those three come before anything else in my life. God is number one. Without him, I would be lost. I would not be the person I am today without having his constant guidance. I am pretty sure he shakes his head at me though. I probably make him cringe. I think somedays I even make him chuckle. I firmly believe that God has a sense of humor. School is my second priority. Without good grades I feel incomplete. I feel like a failure. I always feel like I can do better than I do. I need to get strong in my education so that I can finish up and get a career. Work is my third priority. It is not a career at the moment. But it has to be a priority because it helps me pay my bills. They all call me a work-a-holic but I'm over it. I work a lot for good reason. I like working. Granted, I do not like the place I am working at. I get over it. I am toughing it out because it is just getting me through school. Well, that is all for now folks. I need to go write in my journal now.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Different scenario for story. (really just brainstorming)
He was tall, dark, and really quite handsome. He was a walking cliche. His name was Dean Henry Jones. He was also the love of my life. There was one problem though. To this day he does not know that I exist. It does not matter that we went to grade school together from the very beginning. To Dean, I am just another girl.
We both grew up in a suburb of Detroit called Eastpointe. It is such a tiny city that if you really wanted to, you could drive the perimeter of it in a half hour tops. The city is so small that part of the school district spills over into the neighboring suburb of Warren. Warren is one of the biggest cities in Michigan. This is where I grew up. Had I lived just a few blocks west, I would have gone to a completely different school district growing up.
It was not until we shared a college class together that he noticed me. He commented that I looked familiar but was uncertain why.
"We grew up together," I reminded him, "We went to school together since we were four."
"Oh my goodness. I am so sorry. Since the accident, I do not remember anybody. I barely remember my own parents some days."
It is true that he was in a very bad accident when we were sophomores in high school. He was on his way to school when a drunk driver flew through the intersection and spun his car to the other side of the road. Fortunately there were no other cars coming because it could have been much worse. Dean is very lucky to be living to this day but his memory needs constant work.
Dean and I graduated ten years ago. When I walked across the stage all those years ago, I never would have guessed that I would be where I am today.
We both grew up in a suburb of Detroit called Eastpointe. It is such a tiny city that if you really wanted to, you could drive the perimeter of it in a half hour tops. The city is so small that part of the school district spills over into the neighboring suburb of Warren. Warren is one of the biggest cities in Michigan. This is where I grew up. Had I lived just a few blocks west, I would have gone to a completely different school district growing up.
It was not until we shared a college class together that he noticed me. He commented that I looked familiar but was uncertain why.
"We grew up together," I reminded him, "We went to school together since we were four."
"Oh my goodness. I am so sorry. Since the accident, I do not remember anybody. I barely remember my own parents some days."
It is true that he was in a very bad accident when we were sophomores in high school. He was on his way to school when a drunk driver flew through the intersection and spun his car to the other side of the road. Fortunately there were no other cars coming because it could have been much worse. Dean is very lucky to be living to this day but his memory needs constant work.
Dean and I graduated ten years ago. When I walked across the stage all those years ago, I never would have guessed that I would be where I am today.
Monday, December 20, 2010
No subject neccesary...p.s. this is a story...and fictional. not based on facts.
I never thought, five years ago, that I would be where I am today. With everything I have gone through, it is amazing that I made it this far. This is not your typical boy meets girl romance. The boy and girl already knew each other. This is more of a boy and girl find each other type. While they grew up together, they did not truly see each other.
First there is the boy in the tale. His name is George. He is tall. His hair is dark brown, his eyes as green as a perfect lawn. He is currently teaching fifth grade science in the suburbs of Detroit. He never had a serious relationship that lasted more than a year. His passion is teaching and often times that tends to get in the way of him getting to involved with other individuals.
Then, there is the girl. Her name is Leah. She is also a teacher. She teaches kindergarten. She also resides in Eastpointe which is a suburb of Detroit. It is a city that is about two miles in every direction. To drive the perimeter would take up to a half hour.
They grew up together in good ol' Eastpointe and managed to teach in the school district that brought them together in the very beginning.
First there is the boy in the tale. His name is George. He is tall. His hair is dark brown, his eyes as green as a perfect lawn. He is currently teaching fifth grade science in the suburbs of Detroit. He never had a serious relationship that lasted more than a year. His passion is teaching and often times that tends to get in the way of him getting to involved with other individuals.
Then, there is the girl. Her name is Leah. She is also a teacher. She teaches kindergarten. She also resides in Eastpointe which is a suburb of Detroit. It is a city that is about two miles in every direction. To drive the perimeter would take up to a half hour.
They grew up together in good ol' Eastpointe and managed to teach in the school district that brought them together in the very beginning.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Well
The semester is coming to an end. The time of the year that usually stresses me out is upon us. Yet, I am not stressed at all. This semester has been a piece of cake. I have never had an easier one! I just took me first aid test and I got a 93% on it. That is the test that I was worried the most about and I whipped right through it. My portfolio is done and ready to be turned in next week. I have a geography test at 6 tonight that I am able to work on with classmates. I am not worried at all.
I am worried that I will not be able to get all the Christmas presents for everyone that I wanted to. Only time can tell of course. Somehow, I always manage to get everyone's presents but we will see.
I am going to have my Christmas cards done and in the mail by the weekend. I cannot wait for next Wednesday. Jesus' annual birthday party! I must say I have some pretty darn good ideas.
Oh, and I came to the conclusion that I may not be as good of a writer as I thought. Yeah, I am good at making sentences. Sure I punctuate in all the write spots. I paint scenes with words for all to enjoy. But, there are better writers than me out there.
There is a fella in my class who is published and I can tell why. When he reads, it gives me the attack shivers. His story is so powerful. Mine is a big cliche. It is the typical boy meets girl kind of story with a Nicholas Sparks twist. The only thing different about me and Nicholas Sparks....is my story actually happened. (And not in a small town.)
I am going to do some more work on my memoir. I have time. Why not perfect it?
I am worried that I will not be able to get all the Christmas presents for everyone that I wanted to. Only time can tell of course. Somehow, I always manage to get everyone's presents but we will see.
I am going to have my Christmas cards done and in the mail by the weekend. I cannot wait for next Wednesday. Jesus' annual birthday party! I must say I have some pretty darn good ideas.
Oh, and I came to the conclusion that I may not be as good of a writer as I thought. Yeah, I am good at making sentences. Sure I punctuate in all the write spots. I paint scenes with words for all to enjoy. But, there are better writers than me out there.
There is a fella in my class who is published and I can tell why. When he reads, it gives me the attack shivers. His story is so powerful. Mine is a big cliche. It is the typical boy meets girl kind of story with a Nicholas Sparks twist. The only thing different about me and Nicholas Sparks....is my story actually happened. (And not in a small town.)
I am going to do some more work on my memoir. I have time. Why not perfect it?