The Writer's Craft course has finally come to an end. A few months since we started, numerous works written and hundreds of thousands of words typed. It is safe to say that I am a better writer than I was before, and I am very thankful for that. This course was one that I had looked forward to throughout all of high school, and I am very glad that I took it.
Though my work habits are questionable, I believe that I still deserve the highest mark humanly possible. It is a strange concept to grasp, but my mind works best when it is pressed for time. I wrote every single assignment for this course at 1:00 am the night before it was due. My blogs were almost all written the week of their due date. I realize this is a risky way of living, and sometimes, in the case of blogs, it meant missing my deadline, but I truly believe it was the right choice. I would much rather hand in my top notch work late, then hand in something sub-par early. I realize that it means losing marks, but in a course like writers craft, shouldn't the creative mind be able to work in its proper conditions?
I did hand in everything on time; every essay was in on the due date, my analysis' were in on the due date, my short story was in on the due date, even my play was in on the due date, though I did miss my treatment conference, I still handed in the good copy on time.
I feel that I really put out some of my best work this semester. I had to enter some risky circumstances to get there, but I'm proud of it. I feel that I deserve what I worked for, and though I may not be the neatest, most organized worker around, I know that I can write, and isn't that what really matters?
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Love Like A Sunset
I feel sorry for those who are blind, they have never got the chance to experience one of the most beautiful sights on earth; a sunset. So, once and for all, I will describe it to the best of my abilities so that they too can see one.
A sunset is a light show in the sky; a million different shades of red, yellow, purple and orange dancing across the horizon. It is the point of day you can look at the sun without burning your eyeballs off. As the sun slowly fades at the edge of the earth, the sky comes alive; the normal shades of blue change rapidly in colourful seizures until it all goes to the black of night. A sunset doesn't just happen, it explodes.
While watching a sunset, nothing else matters. For the first time in the day, one can forget all their trouble, even forget that they are alive. It is an experience like no other imaginable. It is a point where one can beleive that all is right with the world; that maybe hope does exist. It can lead one to think that the world, as wretched and ruined as it may be, is still beautiful. The sky can't be broken; it is still the same old sky as day one. Though the earth has decayed away, the sky is still the same. A sunset can make you wonder if at one point the earth too was just as beautiful as the sky.
I can try as I may, but I feel my efforts are useless. It is safe to say that a sunset is simply indescribable.
A sunset is a light show in the sky; a million different shades of red, yellow, purple and orange dancing across the horizon. It is the point of day you can look at the sun without burning your eyeballs off. As the sun slowly fades at the edge of the earth, the sky comes alive; the normal shades of blue change rapidly in colourful seizures until it all goes to the black of night. A sunset doesn't just happen, it explodes.
While watching a sunset, nothing else matters. For the first time in the day, one can forget all their trouble, even forget that they are alive. It is an experience like no other imaginable. It is a point where one can beleive that all is right with the world; that maybe hope does exist. It can lead one to think that the world, as wretched and ruined as it may be, is still beautiful. The sky can't be broken; it is still the same old sky as day one. Though the earth has decayed away, the sky is still the same. A sunset can make you wonder if at one point the earth too was just as beautiful as the sky.
I can try as I may, but I feel my efforts are useless. It is safe to say that a sunset is simply indescribable.
An Evening At The Theater
For a lad of my age, I've been to a lot of theater performances. It is a dying art, but I find it very entertaining, and the music department at school has given me numerous opportunities to go. I've seen good shows, terrible shows and shows that I ended up sleeping through. What is my ideal play? One may ask, well, let me tell you.
First, add some music and lyrics and make it a musical. The use of music only increases the portrayal of emotion, this creates a much more intimate and engaging experience. The music has to be all live and very good.
Second, the plot has to be good. Nothing makes me tune out more then when I don't care about the plot. The writing and lyrics should be very inspiring as well. If the plot suck, the play sucks.
Third, the acting should be done extremely well. I can not take bad acting seriously, if I notice one character is lacking, the whole experience starts to deteriorate for me.
Fourth, the set should be interesting, well built and constantly changing. Staring at the same old background for two hours wears out very quickly. There should be a lot of different sets that appear throughout the performance to give the experience multiple dimensions.
Now, I'm not saying that I'm picky, this is just the ideal for me. They are important factors though. If the play can't keep me entertained, then it's not doing its job properly.
First, add some music and lyrics and make it a musical. The use of music only increases the portrayal of emotion, this creates a much more intimate and engaging experience. The music has to be all live and very good.
Second, the plot has to be good. Nothing makes me tune out more then when I don't care about the plot. The writing and lyrics should be very inspiring as well. If the plot suck, the play sucks.
Third, the acting should be done extremely well. I can not take bad acting seriously, if I notice one character is lacking, the whole experience starts to deteriorate for me.
Fourth, the set should be interesting, well built and constantly changing. Staring at the same old background for two hours wears out very quickly. There should be a lot of different sets that appear throughout the performance to give the experience multiple dimensions.
Now, I'm not saying that I'm picky, this is just the ideal for me. They are important factors though. If the play can't keep me entertained, then it's not doing its job properly.
A Life Changing Decision
If, for some unknown reason, I was given the choice to either turn back the clock and change something about my past or look into the future, I would probably choose changing the past.
I'm not sure exactly what I would change. It's hard to say that I would want to change anything; sure there are some things that I'm not proud, but they make me who I am today, and I don't want to change that.
I definitely don't want to look into the future though; I want it to be spontaneous. I don't want to know what tomorrow holds. If I already know how the rest of my life will go, I think that it might become rather boring. I feel that life is supposed to be a mystery and everything that happens is just part of life, so I don't want to waste my life thinking about whats going to happen to me in 30 years; I'd rather not know until it happens.
Since I chose the other option I suppose there are some things I would change about my past, namely great opportunities that I didn't pursue. For example, a couple years ago I was offered a chance to go to Bolivia to help build a school for a poor community. I have always regretted not going; it would have been an amazing experience that I would treasure for the rest of my life, but at the time I thought it was too expensive. If I could go back, I would have done it.
In all honesty, I don't believe time should be messed with; what happened has already happened, and what hasn't yet is going to. I think time is fragile, and not to be touched.
I'm not sure exactly what I would change. It's hard to say that I would want to change anything; sure there are some things that I'm not proud, but they make me who I am today, and I don't want to change that.
I definitely don't want to look into the future though; I want it to be spontaneous. I don't want to know what tomorrow holds. If I already know how the rest of my life will go, I think that it might become rather boring. I feel that life is supposed to be a mystery and everything that happens is just part of life, so I don't want to waste my life thinking about whats going to happen to me in 30 years; I'd rather not know until it happens.
Since I chose the other option I suppose there are some things I would change about my past, namely great opportunities that I didn't pursue. For example, a couple years ago I was offered a chance to go to Bolivia to help build a school for a poor community. I have always regretted not going; it would have been an amazing experience that I would treasure for the rest of my life, but at the time I thought it was too expensive. If I could go back, I would have done it.
In all honesty, I don't believe time should be messed with; what happened has already happened, and what hasn't yet is going to. I think time is fragile, and not to be touched.
When I'm 85...
I ease my way out of bed; everything aches all at once. It's only 6:30 am; I'm up with the birds, that's how I roll when I'm eighty-five years old. I waddle over to the bathroom where I take my thirteen pee in the past twelve hours. I then proceed to have a bath, wash my face, shave, brush my dentures, gargle some mouth wash and stare at the not-so-youthful face that appears in my mirror.
I walk back into my bedroom and get dressed. I make sure not to forget my suspenders, my trifocals and my hearing aids.
I head down for breakfast, porridge. My wife has already eaten, but she's taken the liberty to lay out the twenty-eight different pills the doctor has prescribed me to take every morning.
After breakfast, I take old Simon (our dog) for a walk through the park. He's old too, he can empathize.
When I return back home I am quite tired so I have a nice long nap until my wife calls me for lunch.
For lunch we have soup. We have soup everyday for lunch. We've done it for the past twenty-five years. You'd think it's get old, well it does, but so do we.
After lunch, I go sit out on the porch to widdle and yell at the kids to get off my blasted lawn. This activity is quite exhausting so I have another nap until dinner.
In the evening, the wife and I watch Lawerence Welk on the boob-tube before calling it a night and heading to bed. It's been quite the exhausting day and we must rest up to do the exact same thing tomorrow.
I walk back into my bedroom and get dressed. I make sure not to forget my suspenders, my trifocals and my hearing aids.
I head down for breakfast, porridge. My wife has already eaten, but she's taken the liberty to lay out the twenty-eight different pills the doctor has prescribed me to take every morning.
After breakfast, I take old Simon (our dog) for a walk through the park. He's old too, he can empathize.
When I return back home I am quite tired so I have a nice long nap until my wife calls me for lunch.
For lunch we have soup. We have soup everyday for lunch. We've done it for the past twenty-five years. You'd think it's get old, well it does, but so do we.
After lunch, I go sit out on the porch to widdle and yell at the kids to get off my blasted lawn. This activity is quite exhausting so I have another nap until dinner.
In the evening, the wife and I watch Lawerence Welk on the boob-tube before calling it a night and heading to bed. It's been quite the exhausting day and we must rest up to do the exact same thing tomorrow.
S.S. St. August
Oh, S.S. St. August, Oh, S.S. St. August,
Lay in a cove, covered in rust.
Days dead and gone; she's getting so old,
But now do they know, she's still got a soul?
They mock her and taunt her, they've forgot her name.
Had she known this would happen, she wouldn't have came.
But she's stuck in that place, cut off from the world.
So desperate and confused, such a lost lonely girl.
As the bright sun dims out at the end of the day,
They're coming with torches to take her away.
Not one tear she sheds, she knows it's her time.
She knows she deserves this, but it still isn't right.
There's no place fro the old and decrepit on earth.
Years take away youth; they take away worth.
Poor S.S St. August would never find love.
But maybe lifes better in the sea up above.
Lay in a cove, covered in rust.
Days dead and gone; she's getting so old,
But now do they know, she's still got a soul?
They mock her and taunt her, they've forgot her name.
Had she known this would happen, she wouldn't have came.
But she's stuck in that place, cut off from the world.
So desperate and confused, such a lost lonely girl.
As the bright sun dims out at the end of the day,
They're coming with torches to take her away.
Not one tear she sheds, she knows it's her time.
She knows she deserves this, but it still isn't right.
There's no place fro the old and decrepit on earth.
Years take away youth; they take away worth.
Poor S.S St. August would never find love.
But maybe lifes better in the sea up above.
All You Really Need To Know...
David
Relaxed, Creative, Friendly and Peaceful.
Sibling of Doonald McFinch.
Lover of music, excitement, nature and love.
Who fears going deaf.
Who needs sound.
Who gives a crap.
Who would like to be out of high school.
Resident of Narnia.
Lindsay
Relaxed, Creative, Friendly and Peaceful.
Sibling of Doonald McFinch.
Lover of music, excitement, nature and love.
Who fears going deaf.
Who needs sound.
Who gives a crap.
Who would like to be out of high school.
Resident of Narnia.
Lindsay
BYOT (Bring Your Own Tea)
I can't tell you the countless Sunday afternoons I have spent alone with a kettle of tea and no one to share it with. Never has it occurred to me, until now, that a tea party works best with other people. So, maybe it's time for a legit tea party, but not just any tea party; I'm talking about the ultimate tea party. The only way to have an awesome tea party is to have an awesome guest list, and I think I've got one figured out.
1) Johnny Cash - This man has led one of the most incredible lives imaginable. The stories he would bring to the table would bring hours of entertainment and interest.
2)Walt Disney - He is one of the most creative minds of the 20th century. If there is any brain I'd like to pick at, it'd be his. With him around, who knows what the tea party would become?
3)The Dancing Bald Guy from the Six Flags Commercial - This man brings the party; you simply can't have a party without him.
4)Charlie Chaplin - If one is going to have a tea party, there has to be an English guy there to make it authentic. Charlie Chaplin is not only English, but highly entertaining.
5)The Mad Hatter - This guy is basically the legend of all tea parties. When I hear the phrase "tea party", he is the first thing to come to mind. It just wouldn't feel right without him.
6)Robin Williams - The most entertaining man on the face of the planet; there would never be a dull moment with him around.
7)Godzilla - Why not?
8)Laura Secord - Apparently I'm related to her, so this would be the perfect opportunity to meet her. Now, it's not just a tea party, but a "tea-family-reunion-party", even better.
9)Queen Elizabeth - It doesn't get much more elegant and royal than the Queen herself. I think it's a good idea to keep this party at least somewhat classy.
10)Mr. Bean - He may not say much, but does he even need to? With Mr. Bean on the scene, one can be sure something extraordinary will happen; I want this to be a memorable occasion.
1) Johnny Cash - This man has led one of the most incredible lives imaginable. The stories he would bring to the table would bring hours of entertainment and interest.
2)Walt Disney - He is one of the most creative minds of the 20th century. If there is any brain I'd like to pick at, it'd be his. With him around, who knows what the tea party would become?
3)The Dancing Bald Guy from the Six Flags Commercial - This man brings the party; you simply can't have a party without him.
4)Charlie Chaplin - If one is going to have a tea party, there has to be an English guy there to make it authentic. Charlie Chaplin is not only English, but highly entertaining.
5)The Mad Hatter - This guy is basically the legend of all tea parties. When I hear the phrase "tea party", he is the first thing to come to mind. It just wouldn't feel right without him.
6)Robin Williams - The most entertaining man on the face of the planet; there would never be a dull moment with him around.
7)Godzilla - Why not?
8)Laura Secord - Apparently I'm related to her, so this would be the perfect opportunity to meet her. Now, it's not just a tea party, but a "tea-family-reunion-party", even better.
9)Queen Elizabeth - It doesn't get much more elegant and royal than the Queen herself. I think it's a good idea to keep this party at least somewhat classy.
10)Mr. Bean - He may not say much, but does he even need to? With Mr. Bean on the scene, one can be sure something extraordinary will happen; I want this to be a memorable occasion.
Sticky Situations
Papa always told me it was a terrible lifestyle, but there's nothing to be done about it; were just born this way.
I was born on the moving road with hundreds of others just like me. Fresh out of the oven, composed of glucose, sucrose and a million other substances I can't even pronounce. That moving road took me and my many companions through endless tunnels and shoots. We were coated with powders and liquids repetitively. It was such a hectic scene; being just a new born and not having a clue what is going on.
Near the end of the moving road, robotic hands reached down and picked us up, dressing us in the finest paper attire. After that I was placed in a tiny cardboard box with eleven other companions. This is the place I would call home for the rest of my life.
It was pitch black in there; no light whatsoever. I don't know what happened while we were in there. There was a lot of moving and shaking that carried on for a few weeks and then another week of complete stillness. It was insanely boring, but what could we possibly do?
Then one day, after some slight movement, the box opened. A huge monstrous looking creature peered in and snatched Alfred, my dear friend. The creature proceeded to devour him before closing the box.
This ritual proceeded at least once a day until everyone was dead. After Alfred it was Emily, then John, than George, then Percy, then Mel, then Darcy, then Wilma, then Amy, then Marge, then Ronald and then all were gone but me.
The morning after the horrific death of Ronald, and the lonely night that followed, was my end. The creature opened the box and snatched me from my place, at least the fresh air was nice. He proceeded to remove my paper suit and throw me in his mouth. I thought it might be quick and painless, but no. It was brutal torture. He didn't chew me once, or twice but rather about 1500 times. He would not stop chewing. He just kept chomping and munching and biting forever. I thought it would never end. Until finally he swallowed me and I felt the sweet relief of acid burning me to death.
This is the miserable life of a stick of chewing gum.
I was born on the moving road with hundreds of others just like me. Fresh out of the oven, composed of glucose, sucrose and a million other substances I can't even pronounce. That moving road took me and my many companions through endless tunnels and shoots. We were coated with powders and liquids repetitively. It was such a hectic scene; being just a new born and not having a clue what is going on.
Near the end of the moving road, robotic hands reached down and picked us up, dressing us in the finest paper attire. After that I was placed in a tiny cardboard box with eleven other companions. This is the place I would call home for the rest of my life.
It was pitch black in there; no light whatsoever. I don't know what happened while we were in there. There was a lot of moving and shaking that carried on for a few weeks and then another week of complete stillness. It was insanely boring, but what could we possibly do?
Then one day, after some slight movement, the box opened. A huge monstrous looking creature peered in and snatched Alfred, my dear friend. The creature proceeded to devour him before closing the box.
This ritual proceeded at least once a day until everyone was dead. After Alfred it was Emily, then John, than George, then Percy, then Mel, then Darcy, then Wilma, then Amy, then Marge, then Ronald and then all were gone but me.
The morning after the horrific death of Ronald, and the lonely night that followed, was my end. The creature opened the box and snatched me from my place, at least the fresh air was nice. He proceeded to remove my paper suit and throw me in his mouth. I thought it might be quick and painless, but no. It was brutal torture. He didn't chew me once, or twice but rather about 1500 times. He would not stop chewing. He just kept chomping and munching and biting forever. I thought it would never end. Until finally he swallowed me and I felt the sweet relief of acid burning me to death.
This is the miserable life of a stick of chewing gum.
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