Let me preface this by saying that I HATE HEMINGWAY. Bleh. Ok, so anyway, my Creative Writing teacher assigned us to writing, you guessed it, a Hemingway-type vignette. So I did, and this is what I got. Enjoy (or not). Oh and it looks really long but it's actually only 3 pages (double spaced) aaaand most of it is dialogue so it goes pretty fast.

On the Curb

The city was loud and busy. The sun shone bright on the ground but the air was crisp. Winter had begun a little early that year. Cabs rushed by, honking their horns but the people walking by hardly noticed them. A man waited patiently for the bus to arrive. He looked as though his mind was elsewhere. At the same time, a woman of about the same age, dressed in business clothes and high heels searched her purse for some much-needed object. She was in a hurry and moments later found herself ramming head-first into the man and then falling to the ground. Dazed, she began to attempt to compose herself.

“I’m so sorry,” said the woman. She was frantically grabbing at her scattered objects.

The man only stared in disbelief.

“I was just in a hurry, I’m late for work and I have a meeting and my boss is already on my case for being late too often and-”

“Renee?” he blurted out.

The woman looked up at the man, searching his face for something recognizable. He was tall, and handsome. His hair was a dirty gold color and his eyes were bluer than the berries in her mother’s garden. Only one person she’d ever known had eyes like that.

“Graham? Graham! What are you…?”

“I’m waiting for the bus. Wh-What about you?”

“I’m late… again. Happens a lot, but of course you’d know that.”

“Yeah, I would,” he replied, trying to decide whether or not he should look her in the eyes. “Well, you look…nice.”

“Thanks, Graham. You look nice too. What are you doing these days? Still trying to become a rock star?”

“You know me. I’ve got music in my blood, only now it’s folk, not rock. How’s…?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in two years at least. He turned out to be a bum. You have no idea what it’s like to be treated so badly by someone you care so much about,” she said, wincing at the words toward the end of her sentence.

“You’re probably right, I have no idea. I’m sorry to hear that, though.”

The woman knew she had already managed to retrieve the last of her dropped possessions, but she still searched the ground.

“So, Renee, you should probably be getting to work, right?”

“It’s not that important.”

“But what about your boss?”

“Oh, he’ll live,” she said. “Where are you headed?”

“Well this musician thing isn’t quite paying off… yet. So I have a day job at FedEx. It pays decently enough and the hours still give me time to play gigs, as long as I don’t get stuck with a late delivery.”

“You take the bus?”

“Yeah. I could afford a car, I guess, but why waste the money when the bus is right here?” he asked. The woman eyed the keys hidden within her still open purse. “You should try it sometime. The people you meet can be pretty interesting.”

“Maybe I will have to try it sometime, perhaps on a day when I’m not so scattered. You’re lucky you aren’t as clumsy as me. I drop things all the time, usually on my toes, or worse yet, other people’s,” she said, amused at the thought.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re not the only person in the world who lets things slip from your hands.”

“I guess not. But I have a knack for causing problems.”

“What?” he asked.

“What I mean is that I’m unlucky. Mistakes seem to follow me around. I prefer the unavoidable ones like purse explosions, but… well, you know. The avoidable ones prefer me.”

The man looked at her, running a hand through his dirty gold hair. He shrugged.

“So now I’m running really late and I still think I missed something on the ground and I could really use some coffee so maybe I will just call in sick,” she said frantically.

“Maybe you will.”

“And then… maybe you’ll call in sick, too?” Her eyes searched but could not find his.

“Why should I call in sick?”

“Because then we could get some coffee. Catch up.”

“Funny that you said ‘catch.’ Appropriate,” he said, still without looking at her.

“So…?” She asked.

The bus arrived at the stop and its doors popped open. The man took a step forward and looked back. “You got a pen in that purse?”

“Yeah,” she replied, and began to dig. “Oh, I guess not.”

“Well then, I guess I’d better be off,” he said, and stepped onto the bus, just before the doors closed.

The bus drove away. The woman stood in silence, watching after it. A few yards away, a black pen rolled down the curb and into the gutter.

My most recent Creative Writing assignment was to write a short story that was 2-5 pages long (double-spaced). I actually worked to make this story very short, as I tend to write longer short stories. Here is what I came up with. Enjoy! ^_^ (Please note that this may be edited in the future, so don't be too hard on me! Heehee.)

Oh, and it might also be good to check out this link, but do it AFTER you read so you don't ruin the ending. It's just something we talked about in my class and it sort of became the basis of my story. But again, read it AFTER you read this story. CLICK HERE

p.s. Sorry the paragraphs aren't indented... I'm having trouble formatting on the blog (as usual), so please bear with me! Aaaand yes, the title is grammatically FINE. It is sometimes correct to say "person and me" instead of "person and I," depending on what you say next... but since it's a title/fragment, I thought it better to say "me." That is all.

My Darling and Me

My darling and I had been on the run for years. We’d seen and done it all- pick-pocketing, bank robberies, even snatching all the coins from the “Take a Penny, Leave a Penny” trays. We were professionals, and we were unstoppable… That is, until my darling, one day, decided that he wanted us to go straight. Of course, he took it back hours later, but things were never quite the same after that.

We had been planning the perfect heist for some time. We had even pulled it off without alerting the police, but my darling had slipped up somewhere. Maybe he tried to pawn too many jewels, or maybe he had given our… benefactors… a little glimpse of his face. He told me it was an accident, and of course I believed him, but when I heard the announcement on the train, I began to feel it all start to crumble to bits.

“Attention, passengers. Please remain calm. Two detectives are on board and will be checking the belongings of every passenger on this train. As your conductor, I assure you that they are here for your safety and well-being, so please cooperate with them and enjoy the rest of your ride.”

My darling’s conscience had somehow done us in.

We sprang into action immediately. We never took too much on board with us in case of an emergency such as this, but even so, we couldn’t be too careful. Out the window, I threw the pearls we’d stolen from that woman in New York, my newly bought leather gloves, and the pair of diamond earrings meant for my mother. My darling emptied his pockets, and what I saw horrified me: jewels, money, and even someone’s gold watch. He had failed to hide it away in a safety deposit box. He had neglected to auction off anything that could be considered incriminating evidence. He had even forgotten to put our new bills into our Swiss bank account to be used at a (much) later date… But one item that my darling produced shined with the hope that I may end up alright in the end.

Without taking the time to develop my plan, I took my darling’s pistol and ended his ability to ruin me with his guilt and confessions. I could hear the detectives come running, so I started the waterworks.

“What happened, here?” they demanded.

“Oh, thank God you’re here! This man… he stole all of this from me, and I tried to fight him and then… then this gun, I think it belongs… belonged… to him, it was in my hands and… What have I done?” I asked with a heave. “I’m so sorry, I was just so frightened…”

Believing that my story was foolproof, I turned with a weak sigh to one of the detectives for a look of comfort or words of reassurance that any woman in my supposed position would have grasped at, only to feel the cool of metal rings wrap around my wrists.

“Nice try, but we already know who you are, Mrs. Deloni. We’ve been following you and your husband for weeks, and finally had enough evidence for an arrest when we got on this train. Would have had you back at the train station but you tricksters were too tough to locate. You’ll be riding the rest of this trip with us, ma’am.”

And that was that. They took me to the police station after the train ride was over. They were real gentlemen-gave me dinner and some time to myself, even. Later that night, they questioned me about it all. They asked about Mr. Deloni, the robberies, and of course, that fateful train ride. I couldn’t explain to them what they wanted to know, so they left me alone again. They just didn’t understand. Sometimes, you just have to murder your darlings.

Original and revised

It's been forever since I've posted something, eh? Well, I am now going to post something. So yay!

I had to write a poem for my Creative Writing class that brought two things "into conversation" that normally aren't. What my teacher meant by that was to somehow put together two images that seem unrelated or just different. Later on, we had to choose a piece to revise for a portfolio. This "conversation" piece was the hardest one for me, so I figured it could also probably use the most revision. I'll post both (original, then revised) here for you to see. (Oh yeah, for the revised one, the two stanzas are supposed to be side by side but I don't know how to make columns on this blog, so I'll just post one to the left and one to the right and let you try to picture it, lol). I definitely like the revised one a lot more, and I believe my teacher will agree. Without further ado, the pieces!

ORIGINAL:

The Calm after the Storm after the Storm

You sit together,
Tiny blue circles fall
Faces burning red hot
One by one, hitting everything
With blame and anger,
With all their might.
But most of all, regret;
They cover over all
Every muscle aching with
Washing away the dirt,
Echoes of “I’m sorry,”
Washing away the pain,
As the flames fade away.
Washing away every blemish of this earth,
Without a word,
Until all you can see is puddles,
You tell each other
Clear and calm,
How okay it all really is.
Vacant and redeeming.
A September calm has replaced
A fresh start.
Your blistering, July hearts.


REVISED:


Steam

You sit together
Faces burning red hot
With blame and anger,
But most of all, regret.
Echoes of “I’m sorry”
Begin to rise in your throats.
As the flames fade away,
You tell each other,
Wordlessly,
How okay it all really is.
A September calm has replaced
Your blistering, July hearts.

Tiny blue circles tumble down
One by one, hitting everything,
Relentless in their watery strength.
They pound on every building,
Person, and piece of land,
Washing away the dirt,
The filth,
Every blemish of this earth,
Until all you can see are puddles.
Vacant and redeeming,
They are perfect for childlike splashing
With a well-loved friend.

Steam rises and wisps away.
A fresh start.

There you have it, finally something new from me. I'm really loving my Creative Writing class, so I think I'll be posting some more from it as I find pieces that I really like. Maybe I'll write a story at some point! :D

♥

At the end of this semester (or maybe earlier but don't get your hopes up), I might be scanning in some of my drawings from my Drawing 1 class. I'm a total drawing noob, so hopefully no one will make fun of me, but yeah. Just thought I'd tell you that and oh yeah, I am not dead at this point in time. :)

It's been a while since I've posted writing here...

Here's a thing I wrote for my Creative Writing class, after writing this observation journal thingy. I was supposed to basically take chunks from the journal entry and string them together to form a poem. It probably won't make sense to you unless you go to a school where there aren't buses.

Anyway, enjoy. :D

The Unlicensed

You’re sitting among the grass, wet and warm.
Take a moment to listen.
The dam has burst
In t he river of volume.
A million tiny, explosive voices crash like waves.

You see metal monsters on four wheels
Eating up children, one by one
They pull up, wait, receive what they’ve been waiting for.
Then they leave.
Lather, rinse, repeat.

You continue to watch
The crowd surrounding that glass room.
Some have eyes wandering
As though the sky or ground or anything else is
Pulling them into another reality;
As though their toys or their hands are screaming
Something worth listening to.

One by one, or two by two
They disappear, only to wait again the next day,
Among the orderly chaos.
The busy busying,
The lonely lonesoming,
And you to watch them from your island,
Farby and near away.

Work in progress?

I got paint on this shirt. I figured I'd paint it, so that I could wear it again. I like what I've got so far, but I'm not 100% sure if I'm done yet. I might do something more of a background, especially since I didn't cover over all the yellow paint on it. Here's what I've got so far...




p.s. I did this in fabric paint, just in case anyone was wondering. I just used those puff paints with a brush. I did the same with my boots in this entry, only I used some acrylics on those, too (since Converse pretty much are made of canvas and they will not be going in the washing machine).

Is it some kind of seaweed monster?

For the second time, I went to the Michigan dunes with my boyfriend. He then proceeded to turn into a seaweed monster. He has since returned to normal, but at the time, it was quite disturbing.

It's been a while, eh?

Not much to post, just a simple picture of a kitty. It was wandering around in my back yard, so I took a few snapshots (and snuck in a few ear & tummy pets, as well).

I WILL UPDATE THIS SOONISHLY, I PROMISE.

I do not currently have a camera because I left it (along with my brand new concealer, grr) at my friend's house in a purse last week. Hopefully I will see her soon.

I shall try to do some writing, and you may or may not see a bit of the comic that is still yet to emerge from the minds of my boyfriend and myself.

Sorry for lack of updates, though. D:

So sorry for the lack of updates as of late. I haven't been working on anything... hopefully a comic will start happening soon...

In the meantime, here is something I made when I was probably about 5 years old. Read the regular blog for more details.



Hope you had a good laugh looking at this... I know I did.

Omg Shoes.

YEAH. I forgot to post this. I painted these shoes. They were originally white.

This is a little siggy section for my friends. There's a little space because I still need a couple more people to write something.

So yeah. Definitely lots of fun. Some lady at the mall told me I should buy many pairs of them, paint them, and sell them on eBay, haha. :]

I made this puppet for French class. I'm doing a project with another girl in which we have to tell a story to the class and teach some vocabulary, so we are doing a puppet show for the story part, and this is the puppet I made. (She made a gorilla!)

His name is Geraldo because the first thing I drew after his eyes, nose, and mouth was his awesome mustache and it reminded me of Geraldo Rivera.

This is how I hold it up, if you wanted to see that part.
(You can also see that I have written his name and then his title in the story, le vendeur, which is the vendor/salesman.)

I saw some pretty tulips outside the mall a few weeks ago, but forgot about the pictures I took of them until just now.

My friend Maggie and I were outside during study hall, just noticing these little guys. They were tiny, probably the size of the eye of a sewing needle. Not sure what they were, but I played with my digital macro to get a few shots of them.

This little guy looks like he's about to jump off the edge of Maggie's math book. Don't do it! You have so much to live for! Teehee.

I know it's not likely that anyone would steal my work, since it is not of that high of a caliber, however I thought it might be a good idea to have one of these doodads posted. I got this idea from TeeTee, but I modified it to my own needs on this particular blog.

Basically, this is a little license for anyone who may want to copy or borrow or whatever a photo/poem/etc. that I post to this page.


This work by http://artsyfartsyn.blogspot.com/ is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Pretty much, here's the deal: It's totally cool if you want to use some part of my art junk on this page to post elsewhere, but there are a couple of rules:
1) Non-commercial use only.
2) Attribute the work to me, preferably by referencing this blog. =)
3) Let me know if you're going to borrow something, just so I'm not like "oh hay, why is my stuff on his/her site?"

Aaaand, since you've been so kind as to read this post, here is a little something for you! hehe.

This is the header I made for my regular blog. I figured it was "artsy" to some extent.

Subliminal messaging?

I always see this on the bottom of Hershey's syrup bottles. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think they're trying to do a little subliminal messaging, here. :]

I got a Splash award! Thanks, Maggie! I don't want to post the exact same thing here, so I'll just link to the post in my regular blog. HERE!

In other news, the coffee house went well. I got a couple laughs from reading my haiku about crepes, so that was good. :)

French

Two haikus in French. 20 cool points if you can read them, lol. :)
These are mostly just for practice, but they're still fun.

#1
Les crêpes, les gaufres.
Je les aime beaucoup, vraiment!
Ils sont très très bon!

#2
Les nuages crient,
"Vous regardez, tout le monde!"
Maintenant, il pleut.

work in progress

I started writing this in study hall and I'm not sure if I'm done or if I'm going to change it. This might be what I read at the coffee house on Friday.

"Smells like rain,"
Said he to she.
"Smells like rain
And tastes like clouds."
Then no more words were said.

They listened, feeling
With their eyes,
As the first droplets began
To fall upon the ground's feet,
Reaching up toward their hands,
Which could now hear the
Abundantly tiny "Pat-a-tat"

"Smells like rain,"
Said she to he,
As they tuned their ears
To taste the sounds and smells
Brought to them
By smiling clouds.



On top of that, I really want to use this phrase somewhere in a poem. I just don't know what to put around it, lol.

"In my mind's eye, I
Rode along the road."

WHAT DO I DO WITH THAT? I'm thinking it'll be something about a dream.

a series of haikus

Here are a bunch of haikus I wrote during study hall. First time I'm posting something that wasn't an assignment!

If you don't already know, I'll explain what a haiku is. Basically, it's three lines long. First and third lines are both five syllables long, while the second is seven syllables long. It can be about anything, although I think people use them a lot to describe like nature and such, if I'm not mistaken. Anywho, here they are.



Teeny, tiny pats.
Happy, wet, and free they fall.
The smell captures me.

Dainty black flowers
Dance on a white ballroom floor
Softly touched by pink

Eating on the floor,
We laugh without abandon,
Love each other free.

Half-moon home of laughs,
Beautiful and oh so sweet
Perfectly crooked.

Yellow boxes sleep.
Others sleep on them, content.
While some-bored to death.

Subjects (in this order): Rain, my prom/banquet dress, my lunch group, a certain smile, study hall furniture.

This time, our assignment was to write "a poem." Like... pretty much, that was it. Ok, I'm lying, there was a little more to it. We had to write in the style of modern poets, like e.e. cummings or someone of the same time. We had to use styles like free verse, scrambled syntax, or "creative punctuation." We could write about anything we wanted to. I couldn't think of anything to write about, which kind of inspired me in a way, so I came up with this.

I would really like some input, actually. Not like "omgeez you suck" or "I like your poems" or anything like that. More like... do you get them? Do they make sense? Or are they just crazy? If they don't make sense, do you know why? (Some of them won't make sense to certain people because of what they're about, and that's fine with me.) Do they speak to you in a special way? Should I write more? Ideas on what to write about would be appreciated, too. I don't want this just to be school assignments.

Anyway, here's the poem. See if you can tell me what it's about. ;] Pretty easy, I think.

The great, invisible Parasite

The Block sits,
feeding off of The Writer’s
inability to think of
something.
anything.
any word at all.

why do they call it
“Writer’s?”
anyway?
if anything,
The Block is the owner
in that relationship.

“a blank page
is like an empty canvas.”
stop. erase. start over.

The Block is taking its toll.

The Writer shies away,
from The Block,
but it only gets heavier.

moment upon moment,
even days may pass.
The Writer can feel The Block
pressing down
soaking up
every loose thought,
every A, E, I, O, U
(and sometimes Y)

And Then It Happens.

suddenly,
The Writer breaks into a run.
faster and faster,
feet pound against the pavement,
pen races across the page,
all reaching out toward the happy ending
now in sight.
The Block stumbles
under its own immense weight,
trying to catch up and
trap The Writer again.

The Writer travels across the world,
through forests and oceans,
love and hate,
joy and despair.
new Friends are created,
allowing The Writer to make more.

but every once in a while,
The Block rears its ugly head,
a moment of panic strikes
The Writer.
but, after some time,
The Writer again escapes
and The Block begins the chase,
anew.

Us

For this assignment, we had to write some kind of love poem. It didn't necessarily have to be love like I love my boyfriend/girlfriend/etc. but just some way in which you've experienced love. We had just read "The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock" and "How Do I Love Thee," so we could kinda use those as reference. It could be about anything or anyone. My teacher suggested perhaps something Easter-related (Christian school, you see). I didn't go with that, but I don't think it matters. Here's what I came up with. Every word is on purpose.


Us
There is no you, me, you, you, you, or you.
There is only us.
Us is all that matters, sometimes.
Othertimes, when the times are all that matter,
Us is what keeps us together,
Even when us is apart.

Us is love, laughter, life.
Us is dancing, day or night,
Rain or shine,
Even or uneven.

Us is a hayride,
It goes through the course,
Sometimes dark, scary, but always perfect.

Us is a movie theatre,
Drinking lemonade,
Laughing until tears are falling from every eye,
Shouting out at the wrong (right) time.

Us is us.

Us is love.

This is from my digital photography class my sophomore year (aka last year). It's the color selection setting on my camera set to yellow, not photoshopped, if that matters at all.

Ezra Pound got nothin' on me (only not so much)

When we reunite
Twin minds woven into unshared features;
Bread baking the same way in two different ovens.




(Our English teacher wanted us to write poems that were similar in format to Ezra Pound's "In a station of the Metro," with the two parallel yet unrelated phrases and everything. So... that was mine. It's about my sister, if that makes any sense... not great, but definitely not the worst in the class.)

G, The Car, and Reverse

This is for my Great Gatsby project. I chose to write 3 poems. They have to be free verse and have to include at least three literary devices (i.e. simile, metaphor, alliteration, etc.). This is what I've got for the first poem. Here are the three poems I've got.

Green
Greed
Growth
Grasping at that one bit of hope.

Girl wants everything and more,
Guy can't catch a break. He hears,

"Go for what you want." He hears,

"Get it or
Go on trying.
Go 'til your
Grave, buried under that
Green, green grass, along with those
Gut-wrenching bodies of those folks who tried to
Grasp it all before you. And maybe someday you'll
Grab your dreams with force like a
Great, gargantuan gust of wind
Gravid with those ever-present dreams from
Generations past."

The Monstrous Murder Machine
It looked at him,
Perfection marred only by a splash of blood.
"She killed the only one who let you have her."

It was right.
Its cream-colored face had shown a
Murderous, sickly green.
KRRR-ACK! And it was over.

All that pride and joy,
All that work,
Every drop of bright beauty and brilliance

Every moment spent reaching,
Working,
Loving
Was lost in an instant in which time stood still.

Had gone to waste.
"I brought you to her,
Now I've taken you away,
From her, from life---"

And in that instant, he was gone.

Reverse
The heat is on
Life is full of twists and turns,
Unexpected.
The fire explodes with deceit, desire, drama and death.
"Hot!...Hot!...Hot!"

And then blows the cooler, softer wind.

Dancers circle, laughter ensues.
Steps creak under the weight of rekindled love.
The air is warm with that kindling.
Warm and lovely, it whispers no secrets.

The clouds begin to gather themselves,

Hiding away the sunshine.
The glowing light is smeared by rain,
And with it the joy and excitement of
Starting over.

The wet air cools herself.

New homes are found.
New friends and new lives.
The world is filled with complete wonder.
Every possibility stands like a flower about to blossom.


"Can't repeat the past? Why, of course you can!"


If you've read Gatsby, these hopefully make some sense to the story, right? Even if you haven't, they at least kinda make sense, right? I'm kinda worried. Oh well. I'm done with the project, anyway.

I like to write sometimes.

I decided that I need two separate blogs.

The reason is this: last time I kept a regular blog, it would be normal entries about my life interspersed with poems and short stories, etc. I don't really want that to happen again, because some confusing stuff happened with that blog.

Basically, I wrote a poem about love and such, and at the time I had JUST started dating someone. He thought the poem was about him (when in reality it was just a random poem off the top of my head) and freaked out. We broke up after almost a month of going out.

So, in order to separate my life from my writing, I am creating an extra blog. I'm about to get working on some poetry for English, so I might be posting that later. We shall see how it turns out.

Occasionally, I may post bits of the webcomic that teh boyfriend and I are starting... once it gets started, that is. (Hopefully AT LEAST this summer, once we are not so busy with life and school and suchly.)

Ok so I'm pretty sure this is as good of an explanation I can give, so I will get writing now. Peace out, homies.

-N