Going 24 hours without sleep is never good. And trying to wake yourself up with coffee when coffee itself makes me all hyped up from the caffeine, is definitely not a good idea.
I start to say things. Weird things. Because I’ll think that I’m awake and talking to a friend, and then I realize I’m not. I’m dreaming (I’m not even sure it’s really dreaming, because it all happens in like half a second) a conversation between me and the person who is actually sitting next to me in Real Life. I caught myself just in time about to say something about a barber and a porcupine to my boyfriend, who had no idea that I was dreaming a conversation between us. I’m fine for a few more seconds, and then he says something funny to me, so I laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asks me.
And I realized I was imagining things, again. It was starting to get bad.
“I dreamed you said something to me I thought was hilarious. But I don’t remember what it was…” I furrow my brow in thought, and he laughs. “No, seriously! I can’t remember for the life of me!”
And then come the hallucinations. At least I think they’re hallucinations. I can’t find another way to explain them, other than maybe Shadow People are invading or creatures from other dimensions are popping up, and only I can see them. Or maybe they’re the ghosts of dead people. I really have no idea.
I sit at my usual spot in class, and as I watch, the blonde girl sitting before me turns around slowly, giving me a wicked, toothy grin, like she’s possessed or something. I open my eyes wider in shock. This actually opens them for real, and I understand that maybe I was dreaming again for a second. Because she’s just sitting there normally, facing forward and not staring at me at all.
Maybe I need to quit reading the Exorcist, maybe that’s it.
Last school year the same thing happened to me when I was sitting in the PUB. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone standing beside me, all in darkish colors. They picked up my phone and my textbooks off the tabletop and started messing around with them. But when I turned to reprimand them (as I had no idea who they were), there was no one there. There was no one even remotely close to the table at which I was sitting.
Weird things happen when you don’t sleep.
And when you do sleep and wake up at six in the evening, you think it’s morning, and wonder why everyone on your floor is so awake and talkative and playing musical instruments.
I understand it’s dinner time, and then I go back to sleep. I don’t want any more weird things to happen.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Not something you see everyday!
Hey guys,...
So yesterday i went to spokane with my friends and saw something that i never seen in life with my own two eyes, but onl on tv...I saw two nuns driving a car....?Like i had to take a good like 20 looks back just to make sure what i was seeing was correct. Its not that i didnt know that nuns were even around it was just that i never expected to see them, especially driving a car. Everytime i seen a nun it was always on tv and they always seemed as if they couldnt do anything but stay inside the church and pray to god and do gods will. So to see them outside just driving around in a car was amazing to me...But yeah that was very interesting to me so i thought that i should tell you all as well, maybe you will find this interesting just like i did.
So yesterday i went to spokane with my friends and saw something that i never seen in life with my own two eyes, but onl on tv...I saw two nuns driving a car....?Like i had to take a good like 20 looks back just to make sure what i was seeing was correct. Its not that i didnt know that nuns were even around it was just that i never expected to see them, especially driving a car. Everytime i seen a nun it was always on tv and they always seemed as if they couldnt do anything but stay inside the church and pray to god and do gods will. So to see them outside just driving around in a car was amazing to me...But yeah that was very interesting to me so i thought that i should tell you all as well, maybe you will find this interesting just like i did.
Just a lil something
Spirit me away to this place unknown.
Spirit me away to the darkness.
Spirit me away to a carnival of fun.
Spirit me away till the dawn.
Forgive me my grievance.
I'm sorry for thy mistake.
Please don't trap me hear forever.
Forgive me, I'm going to be leaving.
Spirit me away, but don't forget.
Spirit me away to please your heart.
Spirit me away for only a little bit.
Spirit me away, just bring me home again.
Letting Go...
So this is still a work in progress, but I guess I have to share something. Right? Hope you enjoy.
Letting go,
is not as easy as it sounds.
Again I have betrayed myself.
Again, I have held on
to something that I shouldn't.
Addicted to the thought
of having you.
Moving on,
is not an easy action.
Holding on for me is always safe.
I could run,
but there's one complication -
I'm addicted to the thought
of being yours.
Letting go,
is not as easy as it sounds.
Again I have betrayed myself.
Again, I have held on
to something that I shouldn't.
Addicted to the thought
of having you.
Moving on,
is not an easy action.
Holding on for me is always safe.
I could run,
but there's one complication -
I'm addicted to the thought
of being yours.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Lots of poetry around here...
...yet alas, I am not a poet. In fact, I know very little about poetry. Or at least, I know little about the construction of poetry. It was never my focus. I've been focusing for years on the proper way to construct screenplays, how the format is best used, and what can be portrayed by the format, along with what cannot.
Still, I appreciate seeing everyone's poetry. It's nice. So to everyone who's written poetry in this blog, take this as a response to all of you!
For the sake of giving some actual content, and providing an actual reason for this post, how about we talk a little about the books we've been reading? Outside of any classes, of course. Feel free to add your own in the comments, or continue up above in new posts!
So, to start with, I'm the sort of guy who ends up reading several books at once. At the moment, I'm reading The Great Gatsby and The Catcher in the Rye.
Most of the characters in the Great Gatsby are these snotty, abominable rich people. I'm not sure I enjoy hanging out with them in this story. But then, that's the point. I don't want to spoil anything for anyone who hasn't read it, though. Still, it's a colorful story filled with very interesting characters. Most of which happen to be incredibly annoying. So it goes.
The Catcher in the Rye... I haven't really made up my mind on it yet, but about halfway through I'm thinking it isn't the world that's the problem, but the protagonist's own emotional troubles. Sure the people are imperfect... but seeing things through the protagonist's lens, things seem far worse than they may otherwise.
And I should say more, but it's late and my mind has turned to much. I should really refrain from writing while tired. Farewell for now.
Still, I appreciate seeing everyone's poetry. It's nice. So to everyone who's written poetry in this blog, take this as a response to all of you!
For the sake of giving some actual content, and providing an actual reason for this post, how about we talk a little about the books we've been reading? Outside of any classes, of course. Feel free to add your own in the comments, or continue up above in new posts!
So, to start with, I'm the sort of guy who ends up reading several books at once. At the moment, I'm reading The Great Gatsby and The Catcher in the Rye.
Most of the characters in the Great Gatsby are these snotty, abominable rich people. I'm not sure I enjoy hanging out with them in this story. But then, that's the point. I don't want to spoil anything for anyone who hasn't read it, though. Still, it's a colorful story filled with very interesting characters. Most of which happen to be incredibly annoying. So it goes.
The Catcher in the Rye... I haven't really made up my mind on it yet, but about halfway through I'm thinking it isn't the world that's the problem, but the protagonist's own emotional troubles. Sure the people are imperfect... but seeing things through the protagonist's lens, things seem far worse than they may otherwise.
And I should say more, but it's late and my mind has turned to much. I should really refrain from writing while tired. Farewell for now.
Tack in the ear
Hey all, this is Kat. Sorry to break up the poetry chain, haha. I've been having a lot of weird and vivid dreams lately and thought it might be fun to share them to the world! In truth, the dream I had this very morning was in fact not all that interesting or vivid for that matter, so I'm going to recount a dream I had yesterday morning.
~~~
The house was decorated with wreaths, the stair rail wrapped in garland and candles placed on the living room table, shedding a soft glow despite the dull gray light from the cold winter morning. "It's Christmas!" my dad announced as my family gathered around the table in the living room, presents piling under and around the table. Yes, there was a Chrismas tree in the corner, but it didn't seem very relevant. My younger sister was very excited and while she was allowed to open her presents, my parents demanded that I clean up the tacks that were for some reason attached to the wrapping paper (I assume maybe to hold the paper in place?). They were small thumbtacks of many sparkly and glittery colors to match the wrapping paper, and they quickly became a pile on the table as my sister tore the wrapping paper up, like kids do with presents. And as I was gathering the tacks in my hands, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my ear. Somehow, intuitively, I knew it was a tack.
Yes, there was a tack stuck in my ear. I dropped the pile I had in my hands back onto the table and tilted my head, attempted to push the tack out of my ear by squeezing the muscles in my head. I'm not sure how that would work, but that's what I was attempting to do. Eventually, I knew that I would have to go to the hospital.
My dream suddenly shifted in which I was already sitting in the doctor's office, but I was no longer myself. I had become a character I love from a novel based on a video game, a young man by the name of Damuron. Sitting across a desk was my doctor, a character that a friend of mine had created. I was now a 25 year old handsome tan man with short shaggy black hair, but I still had that damn tack in my ear. I explained to my doctor my problem to which he leaned back in his chair to ponder. Eventually, he told me, "I'm sorry, but there's absolutely no way that we can perform surgery to remove the tack in your ear. However, if you come back every day to take this medicine I'm going to prescribe you, then it should eventually fall out."
I accepted this proposal without any further question and left. Apparently I had to walk down a long unused path through a forest in the middle of the night to get back home from the hospital and was walking along when I came across a series of statues erected in the middle of the path. There were at least five of them and they resembled totem poles although they were clearly made out of brown clay, and the painted faces seemed to stare into my soul. I wasn't sure what to make of the statues as I walked past them, other than that they creeped me out but were kind of funny at the same time.
My dream shifted again to where I was again walking home from the hospital at night. A few days had elapsed from the last "scene" and I had noticed that every time I walked home on the path, more statues seemed to be added. Some faced the direction I was coming from, others faced away, and at this point of my dream, there was even a statue laying on the ground in a fetal position. As I neared the last few statues, my doctor, who was a good friend of the person I looked like, stepped out from behind one of the statues.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I've been feeling a lot better!" I responded without stopping as he watched me walked past. Turning around and walking backwards, I gave a bright smile and said cheerfully, "By the way, these statues are awesome!" and continued down the path. And although the character that I was kept walking out of sight, my dream then focused on the doctor who looked at the ground, a hand resting on the statue beside him. He gave out a small wistful smile and said softly, "I'm glad that they're helping you."
And somehow I knew that he was the one who made them, and he did it for me.
END DREAM
~~~
The house was decorated with wreaths, the stair rail wrapped in garland and candles placed on the living room table, shedding a soft glow despite the dull gray light from the cold winter morning. "It's Christmas!" my dad announced as my family gathered around the table in the living room, presents piling under and around the table. Yes, there was a Chrismas tree in the corner, but it didn't seem very relevant. My younger sister was very excited and while she was allowed to open her presents, my parents demanded that I clean up the tacks that were for some reason attached to the wrapping paper (I assume maybe to hold the paper in place?). They were small thumbtacks of many sparkly and glittery colors to match the wrapping paper, and they quickly became a pile on the table as my sister tore the wrapping paper up, like kids do with presents. And as I was gathering the tacks in my hands, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my ear. Somehow, intuitively, I knew it was a tack.
Yes, there was a tack stuck in my ear. I dropped the pile I had in my hands back onto the table and tilted my head, attempted to push the tack out of my ear by squeezing the muscles in my head. I'm not sure how that would work, but that's what I was attempting to do. Eventually, I knew that I would have to go to the hospital.
My dream suddenly shifted in which I was already sitting in the doctor's office, but I was no longer myself. I had become a character I love from a novel based on a video game, a young man by the name of Damuron. Sitting across a desk was my doctor, a character that a friend of mine had created. I was now a 25 year old handsome tan man with short shaggy black hair, but I still had that damn tack in my ear. I explained to my doctor my problem to which he leaned back in his chair to ponder. Eventually, he told me, "I'm sorry, but there's absolutely no way that we can perform surgery to remove the tack in your ear. However, if you come back every day to take this medicine I'm going to prescribe you, then it should eventually fall out."
I accepted this proposal without any further question and left. Apparently I had to walk down a long unused path through a forest in the middle of the night to get back home from the hospital and was walking along when I came across a series of statues erected in the middle of the path. There were at least five of them and they resembled totem poles although they were clearly made out of brown clay, and the painted faces seemed to stare into my soul. I wasn't sure what to make of the statues as I walked past them, other than that they creeped me out but were kind of funny at the same time.
My dream shifted again to where I was again walking home from the hospital at night. A few days had elapsed from the last "scene" and I had noticed that every time I walked home on the path, more statues seemed to be added. Some faced the direction I was coming from, others faced away, and at this point of my dream, there was even a statue laying on the ground in a fetal position. As I neared the last few statues, my doctor, who was a good friend of the person I looked like, stepped out from behind one of the statues.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I've been feeling a lot better!" I responded without stopping as he watched me walked past. Turning around and walking backwards, I gave a bright smile and said cheerfully, "By the way, these statues are awesome!" and continued down the path. And although the character that I was kept walking out of sight, my dream then focused on the doctor who looked at the ground, a hand resting on the statue beside him. He gave out a small wistful smile and said softly, "I'm glad that they're helping you."
And somehow I knew that he was the one who made them, and he did it for me.
END DREAM
Act 5, Scene 3
Poisoned lips
One happy dagger
Secrets, betrayal
And early demise
No sacrifice truer
Or greater before
No love as pure
Or trusting hereafter
One happy dagger
Secrets, betrayal
And early demise
No sacrifice truer
Or greater before
No love as pure
Or trusting hereafter
My room
A soft fluorescent glow,
backed by a stereo blare.
The safe place I always go.
Comforted by an LCD glare
The walls, plain and simple.
A miniature fridge on the floor.
An empty bag of chips crinkle.
All within a closed white door.
This is my sanctum,
my temple, my home.
A place I'm always welcome.
A haven with my throne.
Welcome and inviting,
to all those I hold dear.
Keeping my enemies distant,
and my friends ever near.
backed by a stereo blare.
The safe place I always go.
Comforted by an LCD glare
The walls, plain and simple.
A miniature fridge on the floor.
An empty bag of chips crinkle.
All within a closed white door.
This is my sanctum,
my temple, my home.
A place I'm always welcome.
A haven with my throne.
Welcome and inviting,
to all those I hold dear.
Keeping my enemies distant,
and my friends ever near.
Senior Citizen
This "old gray mare,"
She ain't what she used to be,
But that's okay with me,
'Cause I'm progressively,
Tryin' new things and
Makin' great memories!
That's what it's all about!
She ain't what she used to be,
But that's okay with me,
'Cause I'm progressively,
Tryin' new things and
Makin' great memories!
That's what it's all about!
Blog post for week 2- What I did over summer vacation
(Our roving compost heap)
An excerpt of William Wordsworth's "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud":
A poet could not but be gay,
In such jocund company;
I gazed-and gazed- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Jingle Bells...EWU Style
Here's a little ditty to get you all prepared for winter:
Jingle bells, jingle bells,
Freezing all the way,
Deep-sixed in snow,
Nowhere to go,
Where the heck's that sleigh? (2x)
Trudging through the snow,
Every stinking day,
Through the blizzard I will go,
Slipping all the way!
Left my coat at home,
Woe, o woe to me,
Body's going numb,
But I must get that degree!
Blagging on the Interwebs
Me | Bryce H.
Whenever I write about me: Some of it is me. Some of it is my view of me. Some of it is what people have described as me. Some of it is an obvious over romanticization or exaggeration of all of the above listed me. And some of it is not me at all. Which is not to say it might not just be me as I'd like to be. But that's still me.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Testing... 1, 2, 3...
Hello everyone. This is your classmate (or student, in one case) Anthony. As a warning, I'll say that I'm not putting anything particularly artistic in this post. The sole purpose is to test out blogging. For this is my first actual blog post! Woo hoo!
I've seen numerous blogs, and even follow a few. I also see a potential in them that I've only seen a few times. That potential is the use of the blog itself to tell a fictional story. I don't mean merely posting a story bit by bit or chapter by chapter in the blog, I mean more a story told through the blog entries of a fictional person.
I know what you're thinking. "An epistolary novel? Aren't those deader than disco?!" Perhaps. But this format strikes me as perfect.
Who wouldn't want to read a "zombie apocalypse" blog? Or the blog of a group of people stuck in a closed-room murder mystery? Or a "super-villain's sing-along" video blog? (Wait, that one already exists.)
What I mean is, it seems to me that this is an interesting twist on the normal way of writing fiction. I don't see any new genres coming from it. But I do see something that might be fun to write, and fun to read, too.
Well, that's my two cents. Test ended. Let's see how it turns out. See y'all on Tuesday.
P.S. Hey professor, if this kind of post isn't allowed, I'll happy delete it, or at minimum not make another post like this.
I've seen numerous blogs, and even follow a few. I also see a potential in them that I've only seen a few times. That potential is the use of the blog itself to tell a fictional story. I don't mean merely posting a story bit by bit or chapter by chapter in the blog, I mean more a story told through the blog entries of a fictional person.
I know what you're thinking. "An epistolary novel? Aren't those deader than disco?!" Perhaps. But this format strikes me as perfect.
Who wouldn't want to read a "zombie apocalypse" blog? Or the blog of a group of people stuck in a closed-room murder mystery? Or a "super-villain's sing-along" video blog? (Wait, that one already exists.)
What I mean is, it seems to me that this is an interesting twist on the normal way of writing fiction. I don't see any new genres coming from it. But I do see something that might be fun to write, and fun to read, too.
Well, that's my two cents. Test ended. Let's see how it turns out. See y'all on Tuesday.
P.S. Hey professor, if this kind of post isn't allowed, I'll happy delete it, or at minimum not make another post like this.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Welcome!
Hello, and welcome to the class blog for English 210!
We will be using this space to play around creatively and to practice generating material. While our history of creative writing literature comes to us most often via pen and paper, the shifting paradigm toward the emphasis of an online aesthetic makes it pertinent for us to also be fluent in alternative forums, like blogging. So here we will practice creative writing in a format that is indicative of "our times."
Your job: Post once per week and respond to others posts, at least six times throughout the quarter--hopefully more! You can post whatever you want. This is our "playground." Write about your day. Sketch out a poem. Post pictures of the thing you cooked and the recipe you improvised. Embed a link to the youtube video of the song you just wrote. Try out a short short. Seriously. This is practice in generating online creative material.
Things you should avoid when posting:
*Anything hurtful or harmful to another person or group of people
*Explicitly adult content
*Using something you've already written--this is a place to try new things!
Great. Good luck, all. If you have any questions, you know how to find me. You will need to sign up for a google account before I can add you as a contributing member to the blog, so go ahead and do that, create a new one, or sign up using a account you already have--it's up to you.
Most of all, have fun! See you in class.
--Liz
We will be using this space to play around creatively and to practice generating material. While our history of creative writing literature comes to us most often via pen and paper, the shifting paradigm toward the emphasis of an online aesthetic makes it pertinent for us to also be fluent in alternative forums, like blogging. So here we will practice creative writing in a format that is indicative of "our times."
Your job: Post once per week and respond to others posts, at least six times throughout the quarter--hopefully more! You can post whatever you want. This is our "playground." Write about your day. Sketch out a poem. Post pictures of the thing you cooked and the recipe you improvised. Embed a link to the youtube video of the song you just wrote. Try out a short short. Seriously. This is practice in generating online creative material.
Things you should avoid when posting:
*Anything hurtful or harmful to another person or group of people
*Explicitly adult content
*Using something you've already written--this is a place to try new things!
Great. Good luck, all. If you have any questions, you know how to find me. You will need to sign up for a google account before I can add you as a contributing member to the blog, so go ahead and do that, create a new one, or sign up using a account you already have--it's up to you.
Most of all, have fun! See you in class.
--Liz
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