Archive

Archive for October, 2009

eternal sunshine of a spotless mind.

October 30th, 2009

That is my favorite movie of all time. I don’t know how many of you have seen it already but if you haven’t; rent it.

For me, the main point that I focused on with this film was despite one’s ability to try and forget the past existed, forget that your experiences with someone happened; a person will always end up where they are suppose to despite any other attempt to not.  Which I think this film is suggesting the idea of fate and I’m not too sure if I’m comfortable with that idea. I use to believe this could be a valid idea. After a while I stopped having faith in it.

Another good film is I heart Huckabees. I think about how things aren’t happening by chance. I haven’t seen this film in a few years but I still feel like it made me think about what I think my ideas on life and why things happen the way they do. I really enjoyed the concept.

I guess I feel like both of these films have really impacted the way I try to write or try to create an idea. But, it has its advantages and disadvantages I suppose. I am probably not up to that level of being able to get my point across in a clear and constructive way.

I’ve always had a problem with staying on track with my storyline. Even when I create an outline I jump around writing and have to go back and figure out which way would be best to organize it.

I started thinking about all of this because my story workshop is on Tuesday and my story is up to be read and I am a nervous wreck about it. I think my story didn’t develop in the direction I thought it would go; which could be a good and/or bad thing. I guess I will find out. For now, I won’t be able to stop thinking about other things I wanted to put into the story and different ways I could’ve worded things. I had written up twelve pages worth of different senarios and my entire story was seven pages, most of what I wrote didn’t make it into the story.

I need to stop overthinking this. But it felt awful good to blog about it.

Author: luttr001 Categories: Fiction Class Tags:

I went to a student gov’t meeting yesterday

October 29th, 2009

So yeah, I went to a student a gov’t meet yesterday at 5pm to talk about my issues with the way money is allocated to the sports and activity center (SAC) I didn’t think that it would help, because I only had 5 min to talk. But when my 5 mins where up there was many people  that were interested in what I had to say, the time was extened 3 times because there was so many questions. It was cool; and I think that I might of  maked a differentce.  The main reason that I went to talk, is that I found out that 70% of your tuition is paying for the SAC and sports teams, and most of them are not even any good.  On top of all that the SAC has been running in the red. (In business, running in the red is bad/loosing money! Running in the black is good/profitable; hence black friday, the day after thanksgiving).

Author: graze000 Categories: Uncategorized Tags:

Breaking

October 29th, 2009

there are suppose to be more spaces in this, can anyone explain to me how to tab things over?
-nik

—————————————————

everything frizzles
blurring together
unfocused
objects mesh together
it’s only the
beginning…
numbers decrease,
but they’re not just numbers anymore
it’s the password to the future.
the gateway out.
feel the ache –
turning, rising up.
it burns.
push it down,
don’t run.
feel the tightening,
try to expand – to breathe.
it chokes.
push it down,
don’t run.
feel the build up –
wetness, gathering around.
hold it back.
push it down,
don’t run.
keep grounded.
don’t pay attention to the shaking.
keep moving forwards.
keep swimming against it.
don’t give up,
don’t run –
you’re only Breaking.

Author: Nik Owil Jarnigo Categories: Fiction Class Tags:

What Do You Want From Me? Part 2

October 29th, 2009

So I have this idea of writing a story (from elements of my own life) about a dysfunctional relationship because relationships are never easy and require a lot of work.  I posted the opening because every story needs a beginning middle and end.  That is kind of how I work when I write stories.  The premise of the story (for those who haven’t read the first part) is that the main character is sitting stewing in thought and flashes back to retell the story of how the relationship formed with Dave.  Dave struggles with bisexuality and cannot make up his mind.  Our main character struggles with it too to find out that after a party, Dave sleeps with a gay friend of theirs.  So here is the middle part of the story:

I fall asleep in the drenched pillow; my friends think that I’ve passed out and don’t bother waking me up as they leave. I wake up in the morning, wiping away the dried drool from the side of my face.  The place is not too much of a mess after the party last night, an easy clean really.  I pick up all the loose garbage and toss it in the thirty-gallon bag and haul it around.  I take out the vacuum and go over the living room, hallway and my bedroom.  Heading to the bathroom, I reach under the sink and take out the yellow gloves and cleaning liquids.  On my hands and knees, I scrub the dirt and old puke from the basin and floor.  Once that was completed, I start washing dishes; I even rewash a dozen utensils.  After that, I dust and feel that I’ve dirtied the floor, so I vacuum again.  I have been cleaning for a consistent three hours.  My stomach aches for food, but my body is worn down.  I put the cleaning supplies away and collapse on the couch.

My hand struggles for the remote on the opposite end of the sofa.  I turn the television on.  The picture is fuzzy, meaning a thunderstorm is coming.  My phone rings.  I check the caller-ID that says Dave is calling.  I ignore it.  Of all things, he is the last thing on my to-do list.  He calls again. Ignore.  I turn on the lights because the once bright morning sky grows a dull gray.  My phone continues to ring.  He has called me seven times in a half-hour.  Finally, he leaves a message.  I reach for my phone.  A crack of thunder crashes throughout the afternoon sky.

The message plays, “Hey, I understand you’re upset with me, but please can you open your door?”  I delete the message and go to the door.   Why would I need to open my door?  Is he standing there waiting for me?  If he is, he’s completely stupid!

I open the door and take a few steps outside.  Thick and charcoal in color, the clouds release massive droplets.  Currents form by the curb as water rushes into the sewers.  A bolt of lightning reaches across the sky like long, broken, and bony fingers, and within an instant a bellow of thunder rolls across the heavens.  The afternoon heat blares causing the water to evaporate making a haze above the parking lot of the apartment complex.

No one is outside until I hear a familiar voice, “I’m sorry.”  The origin of the voice is unknown.  I look around.  Still no one is in sight.  “Please, believe me.”  I step farther outside.  “I was taken by surprise last night.”  I notice where he stands; he lingers behind his car.  Rain flows down his strong cheekbones.  The white shirt he wears is now transparent, while his blue jeans falling down his hips from the excessive water weight.  “I like you,” he places his right hand over his left shoulder, kicking around the water at his feet.  “I really do.”

“Why?”  Now, my body soaks in the rain like his.

“You’re there for me.  You make me smile, laugh, and I always have fun with you.”  His honesty pours from his mouth.  “I’ll understand if you don’t want anything to do with me.  Please know that it’s taken so much for me to come here.  I stood here for over an hour, building the courage to talk to you.  I’m still standing here, nervous and afraid of what you might say.”  He finally walks out from behind his car and makes his way towards me.  Another pounding roar sounds from the clouds.  “I haven’t slept at all.  You’ve been on my mind since I left last night.  I don’t know what it is about you, but I feel like I can trust you with my life.”  He and I are a few feet away from one another.  My tears go unnoticed in the midst of the rain.  “I think I’ll go.”  He turns his back, grabs the waist of his pants, and jerks them back around his waist.

I run to him.  “Wait!”

Author: chazsk8r88 Categories: Fiction Class Tags:

Holocaust Story–A River of Hope

October 28th, 2009

This is a story I wrote for my Death and Dying class.  My teacher allowed me to write a story instead of a research paper on something that has to do with death and dying, and so I wrote it on a family going to Auschwitz. 

The whole story is up there, you  just have to click on chapter 2, to get the second half of it.

http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2668071/1/A_River_of_Hope

Author: aliceriver Categories: Fiction Class Tags:

Devil in the Details

October 28th, 2009

Disclaimer: There’s some naughty language and nasty visuals in this post. Reader beware.

I have often struggled with humor in writing although I am often told that some of my stories are quite funny. It isn’t purely intentional, because if it was, it would fall flat and fail. Sometimes, though, things just strike me as odd or obvious and I point them out. That’s all. People find that quite entertaining.

I feel that a writing should be compelling, it should grip you, and entertainment and humor are a good way to do that. But how do we go about achieving that deathly grip? I have a thought on it, at least, but I don’t confess to have mastered even the thought.

I have gone over the writings that people told me were funny, or hilarious, or whatever adjective they attach to it. I noticed a pattern in them, and then I thought about other writers, oral performers we call comedians, and what I find funny about what they write. I noticed the pattern and I recognize what is behind it: Universiality. (If that isn’t a real word, it is now, and don’t you go giving me any gruff over it.)

The best example I can give of this is from the late and great George Carlin, my all-time favorite. In the middle of a stand-up (“Complaints and Grievances“), he paused and rubbed his chin. He looked back up at the audience with mic in hand and spoke it simply but with enthusiasm:

I save everything that comes off of my body, don’t you? At least for a little while…Don’t you look at things when they first come off of you? Huh? Aren’t you curious? Don’t you spend five, or ten, or fifteen minutes studying something, trying to figure what the fuck it is and what it’s doing on you in the first place? Sure you do! You don’t pull some disgusting-looking growth off your neck and throw it quickly into the toilet! You want to know what the fuck it is!

That, to me at least, is hilarious. Why? Because don’t we all do it? We do. Like you haven’t held a scab up to the light in the bathroom and looked at the pores and all that stuff that’s on it. Like farting. In the same act, Carlin goes on to say “The kind of fart that could kill cancer! The kind of fart that comes in handy if you have something that needs welding!” I fart. You fart. We fart. We all know what farting is. Also realize that if you are looking for example of good description, look no further than your favorite comedian. They simply describe life for a living and the best ones are very good at it.

Carlin goes so far as to even announce what he is going to talk about and why you are going to laugh at it. Usually this spells certain doom for a story but the basic universal that he brings up is so obvious, but something we never think about, that we still laugh at it. Of course this goes hand-in-hand with exaggeration like in all humor but that’s a different post.

Point out the stupid little things that we do which we may never actively think about, or associate descriptions with things that we all know about but actively don’t think about. Like, for instance, my lawn has all kinds of leaves of a variety of colors on it which have fallen from the trees. I could describe it as looking like a kid knocked over a box of fruity pebbles onto it and you’d get it right away, and then you’d be drawn tighter into the story, bond with it, because you have that in common. Another good example is when comedians do food humor, especially Jim Gaffigan and his whole “hot pocket” act, which is great.

Another piece of evidence is in another class I had. We were reading “Me Talk Pretty One Day” by  David Sedaris, which was ripe with this type of humor. You’ve seen the general apathy in class when we read a story and are to discuss it. Most of you don’t say anything. It is the same in every English class. We read from this book, however, as assigned homework, a story within the book where Sedaris outlines a scenario where he entered a bathroom during a party after someone took an enormous crap and it was not flushed. I believe he described it as some type of burrito. The story detailed poop etiquette and how to defer responsibility of said burrito to the original owner so he didn’t have to own up to it.

Everybody had something to say about that story. Every person in class. Why? It’s funny. Why is it funny? It’s happened to us, at least once or twice.

Point out those obvious things that we all do but don’t think about. Tell me how your character looks at the toilet paper before flushing it. Describe it as being “dunked” into the toilet. Be nasty and gross (but relevant) because that’s funny and compelling.  Be pithy and notice things about our emotional selves, maybe things we don’t realize, and not only are you compelling but you are also teaching your reader about themselves. Speak in universals, because everybody will understand and appreciate it.

Author: Red Categories: Fiction Class Tags:

Idea: to Write or Not to Write?

October 28th, 2009

Also, I’m obsessed with “Last to Know” by Three Days Grace and it gave me an idea :]. Two guys are best friends, they have been for ages. Guy 1 has been dating Girl since the first year of high school but the summer after graduation Guy 2 tells Guy 1 that she’s with him now, has been for months now. Guy 1 is the last to know that Girl left him. The two guys don’t really know how to feel about each other, they’ve been friends since they were little and care a lot for each other. Guy 1, who got into a really good college like Harvard or Yale or something, ends up not going and just leaving town. Fast forwards four or five years to the end of college. Guy 2 thinks that Girl might be doing the same thing she did to Guy 1 – leaving him for someone else without telling him. At this point he runs into Guy 1 (somehow) and he’s with another guy. And it goes from there. What do you guys think? Possible? Ideas?

The lovely song:

Author: Nik Owil Jarnigo Categories: Fiction Class Tags:

The Invisible Ruler Hovering Over My Hand…

October 27th, 2009

Throughout my life so far, I’ve often found myself having my hand smacked by a ruler, figuratively of course. Throughout middle school, I had teachers correcting me on how to hold my pencil (I rest the pencil on the finger to the left of the pinky on my right hand, supposedly, normal folk rest the pencil on their middle finger?) and complained that my handwriting was awful because of this quirk. To this day, I still hold it as such.

In my freshman year of high school, my English teacher assigned us a paper subject that I found exciting and told us that it had to be ten pages long. I typed up thirteen pages. I was confident I’d get a good grade, but the teacher lowered my grade because I wrote too much. The subject matter was good, I accomplished the task perfectly it was just that I wrote too much on the matter. She even put red X’s on the extra pages. Since that moment, I felt like a freak and a failure because I couldn’t keep within the boundaries that my teachers set for me.

So, for the rest of my high school years, I would grimace at the limitations that the teachers put on the papers. I saw myself as a ranting old woman who didn’t care if people were listening or not. I felt like a nuisance. Every time I look at my works, I always check to make sure I’m not going off on a tangent. But since I’ve entered college, I realized that it wasn’t a horrible sin to write a lot. Now seven pages is minimum, which I find highly amusing. Still, before I turn in a paper or story, I always feel like I’m going to get smacked on the hand by that stupid ruler.

Author: Lenoir Categories: Uncategorized Tags:

story idea

October 27th, 2009

So I think I’ve come up with a pretty good idea I want to write a story about a man who has everything he has ever wanted but yet he is still not happy. And the reason he is not happy is because he never known his mother. So he decides to find her but  his quest for her starts to take over this life he begins to lost everything he worked so hard for including his wife , kids and his job . He has decide if a relationship with his mother who left him as a child is more important then the things he has worked for.

Author: BBrown75 Categories: Uncategorized Tags:

Just a few more poems I’d like to get input on

October 27th, 2009

Love, Life and Marriage

I want to stand by your side,
to watch the sun set.

I want to lay at your side,
to watch the moon rise.

I want to gaze at the stars,
and make a wish
that I will stand by your side,
and be with you forever.

To stand at your side,
and say “I do.”

But most of all,
I want to tell you “I love you.”

To stand at your side
and grow old together and
I want to stand at your side,
to live my life and experience it all,
Love, Life and Marriage.

So stand by me as I stand by you
and I’ll be yours forever.

~~~~~~~~

I wanted to write you a poem
but the words didn’t rhyme
I wanted to write you a song
But I just didn’t have time
So I tried to write a letter
But it wasn’t good enough
I can never tell you what you mean to me
Because no words can describe it
No poems can rhyme it
And no song can sing it
I’ll just have to tell you in person
Just how much I love you
And the world I’d give to you
And my heart is forever true

~~~~~~

I wanted to give you
Something special for Christmas
I couldn’t really think of anything
(except for the kitten)
But nothing seems good enough
But what can I do?
I’m just a poor
Love-stricken sap
Whose fallen for you!

~~~~~~~

As the waves roll in
On the sandy shores
I gaze out to the horizon
To the sailboats and more
A seagull flies past
Giving a lone cry
And I’m glad I have you
By my side
Its hard to ignore
The thump of my heart
Whenever you’re near
My thoughts fall apart
I stutter a lot
And feel stupid too
But that’s okay
Because it happens around you
So when I’m at the beach
All alone
I know I have you
Waiting at home

Author: stein048 Categories: Uncategorized Tags: