8.31.2008
the little note
Hey! Down below is a short story I wrote about a week ago (and below that is my "daily" post). Let me know what you think & comment as much as you'd like - enjoy!
My Western Cowboy Story
She opened her mouth to release a sharp cry, as he held her back - a prisoner in his iron arms. He satisfactorily pulled out the gun, looking around at the rough outline of the west he knew so well: the dry dirt, the rocky mountains, and the blazing sun. Too bad even the birds didn't dare sing farewell to the end of this damsel in distress in his presence. He smirked with his crooked smile, and raised a bushy eyebrow. It wasn't as if he had anything against her exactly. It was just that he held hate in his heart, and he loved to kill. Better yet, to kill someone who loved. Who could - no, who would - lose something valuable in death, unlike himself.
She wasn't prepared for this, although she thought she had been. She'd remembered the countless defense movements taught to protect herself from crazy men - practiced them even. Yet she had forgotten a man's brutal strength, not shown to her from the many gentlemen she knew. She threw herself from him again, only to be pulled back, and this time the hard cold barrel of the gun sank through her golden curls to her dainty head. Even if he didn't shoot, she knew the hard imprint must be left in her skin. His laugh sent tingles up her spine and she prayed for another moment. Screamed for another moment. The gun's patience was tried, then released. The sound of a rocket pierced the air in half. The sound of death.
Yet, her round blue eyes opened with astonishment as the man with the iron grasp tumbled to the ground in her stead. Behind him, the man she loved, her rescuer, stood placing his used gun back inside its cage. His soft worried eyes flew to her, almost as quickly as his feet. He bent his head gently down as he used his fingers to wipe away her tears of desperation, until he stiffened coldly with the realization that the hateful man had stirred. He spoke his dying words, the words most important to a man.
"You'll never understand, but that's why I'm telling you." He gasped out, while holding his side.
"You're crazy, man, to try and hurt her! To be killin' the way you do in this town. Just tell me why? WHY? Why you got to be hurtin' men who you have no problems with." He raged out, in protection of her.
“When I was young -" It seemed he was being dramatic.
"SHUT IT! Get to the point."
"It's the point all right - it all starts when you're young . . . everything. Hate, being locked up, being cheated when you finally love someone. That's what hurts the most, trying so hard to please everyone - anyone, but some people have it all handed to them . . .and some people don't. Who decides who lives what life? Who has the luck, and who loses it all? . . . It all starts young." He continued, his breath slower. "It's like . . . like a boat that's sinking, and no one notices until it crashes. It's like a bird . . . that's falling, but it doesn't matter until it starts flying into the other birds. It's dying but not . . . caring because you're not losing anything." His was whispering by the end of his long rant.
The man who had shot persisted, while keeping her safely behind him, “And you take it out on someone you don’t know? I don’t care if you have had so much pain that you’re numb to it. I don’t care what you’ve been given. What matters is what you do with what you receive in life. Maybe the world can be cruel, but then defy it with your being – don’t join it.”
She suddenly hooked her arm with her rescuer. "Some people have roses with thorns, and others have thorns with roses. But it isn’t exactly like fate has been chosen for you - it’s also the fate you have chosen.”
Death silently closed the iron man’s eyes.
And maybe you don't get it - but that's why I'm telling you.
She wasn't prepared for this, although she thought she had been. She'd remembered the countless defense movements taught to protect herself from crazy men - practiced them even. Yet she had forgotten a man's brutal strength, not shown to her from the many gentlemen she knew. She threw herself from him again, only to be pulled back, and this time the hard cold barrel of the gun sank through her golden curls to her dainty head. Even if he didn't shoot, she knew the hard imprint must be left in her skin. His laugh sent tingles up her spine and she prayed for another moment. Screamed for another moment. The gun's patience was tried, then released. The sound of a rocket pierced the air in half. The sound of death.
Yet, her round blue eyes opened with astonishment as the man with the iron grasp tumbled to the ground in her stead. Behind him, the man she loved, her rescuer, stood placing his used gun back inside its cage. His soft worried eyes flew to her, almost as quickly as his feet. He bent his head gently down as he used his fingers to wipe away her tears of desperation, until he stiffened coldly with the realization that the hateful man had stirred. He spoke his dying words, the words most important to a man.
"You'll never understand, but that's why I'm telling you." He gasped out, while holding his side.
"You're crazy, man, to try and hurt her! To be killin' the way you do in this town. Just tell me why? WHY? Why you got to be hurtin' men who you have no problems with." He raged out, in protection of her.
“When I was young -" It seemed he was being dramatic.
"SHUT IT! Get to the point."
"It's the point all right - it all starts when you're young . . . everything. Hate, being locked up, being cheated when you finally love someone. That's what hurts the most, trying so hard to please everyone - anyone, but some people have it all handed to them . . .and some people don't. Who decides who lives what life? Who has the luck, and who loses it all? . . . It all starts young." He continued, his breath slower. "It's like . . . like a boat that's sinking, and no one notices until it crashes. It's like a bird . . . that's falling, but it doesn't matter until it starts flying into the other birds. It's dying but not . . . caring because you're not losing anything." His was whispering by the end of his long rant.
The man who had shot persisted, while keeping her safely behind him, “And you take it out on someone you don’t know? I don’t care if you have had so much pain that you’re numb to it. I don’t care what you’ve been given. What matters is what you do with what you receive in life. Maybe the world can be cruel, but then defy it with your being – don’t join it.”
She suddenly hooked her arm with her rescuer. "Some people have roses with thorns, and others have thorns with roses. But it isn’t exactly like fate has been chosen for you - it’s also the fate you have chosen.”
Death silently closed the iron man’s eyes.
And maybe you don't get it - but that's why I'm telling you.
World of Color
Hey! So first of all, thanks to everyone for the comments - I love reading them :) Yesterday was extremely busy, so I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to write anything, but I guess that just leaves more for today, right? So I was visiting my older sister in N.Y. recently, and we went to the Frick Museum (which has paintings by the European masters) and the MoMA - or the Museum of Modern Art. And I always think that it's a little crazy how hard some people try to decipher the meaning of a particular piece of Art. They'll go into such depth explaining why the painter did this - or why the painter maybe did that. What the shapes & colors mean - what the fluid movement or lighting is saying. Then someone else comes along with a total different interpretation of the same art piece.
I do realize that many paintings obviously have a meaning - or a reason in the painter's mind as to why they exist. However, my theory is that some painters just paint to paint. In fact, I think some painters could be devious enough to paint something that is not meant to have meaning, just to see what people could come up with in their interpretations of it. In addition, I think some paintings are just meant to be enjoyed and not critiqued - that Art is meant to open the mind as music is meant to open the soul. What do you think about it?
Okay, here are four fun facts about me:
1. My favorite color is purple. And I know, it's considered a girl color, but purple's been my favorite color for basically my whole life. My Mom says it started when I was about two - when I had this purple dress I loved to wear all the time (I was very paticular about what I wore, which is funny for a two-year-old).
2. My favorite car is the Corvette. Yeah, wishful thinking, right? Maybe someday . . .
3. My family has three cats. And this is partly my fault - okay, all my fault :) I just really like animals, and the thing is, there were a few stray cats running around in my neighborhood. They were pretty shy, and didn't really like people. However, with me and my determination, I started taming some - and my family then kept them as pets.
4. What touches my heart: When a someone does something unexpectedly kind for someone else, and expects nothing in return.
I do realize that many paintings obviously have a meaning - or a reason in the painter's mind as to why they exist. However, my theory is that some painters just paint to paint. In fact, I think some painters could be devious enough to paint something that is not meant to have meaning, just to see what people could come up with in their interpretations of it. In addition, I think some paintings are just meant to be enjoyed and not critiqued - that Art is meant to open the mind as music is meant to open the soul. What do you think about it?
Okay, here are four fun facts about me:
1. My favorite color is purple. And I know, it's considered a girl color, but purple's been my favorite color for basically my whole life. My Mom says it started when I was about two - when I had this purple dress I loved to wear all the time (I was very paticular about what I wore, which is funny for a two-year-old).
2. My favorite car is the Corvette. Yeah, wishful thinking, right? Maybe someday . . .
3. My family has three cats. And this is partly my fault - okay, all my fault :) I just really like animals, and the thing is, there were a few stray cats running around in my neighborhood. They were pretty shy, and didn't really like people. However, with me and my determination, I started taming some - and my family then kept them as pets.
4. What touches my heart: When a someone does something unexpectedly kind for someone else, and expects nothing in return.
8.29.2008
Trying not to Fall
So enough of the literary stuff for now . . . time to talk about what's going on in my life :) Today I'm kind of stuck and don't know what to do. My friends often say they wish they could be me, live my life, be in my family. But everyone has problems, even the people - especially the people - who appear not to.
So I'm starting my semester of college next week - I'm excited and nervous at the same time. I'm getting an associate, or a two-year degree. However, I found out that to get my degree in two years (and transfer to a larger college) I will have to take five classes each semester and, in addition, have to take classes in the summer. So I figured I would have to take all these classes while earning my blackbelt (testing for it this fall!) taking on a little job, and applying for colleges to transfer to (which includes figuring out what I want to do with my life, where I want to transfer to, writing, getting recommendations, etc.) which is a huge task, not to mention stressful. All of a sudden, everyone thinks I should know exactly what I want out of life, and what I want to do. Very crazy, but I'm prepared to take the challenge.
But wait, there's more. While my older siblings and I were waiting in line to reach the top of the Empire State Building (which is a very long line in more ways than one, I might add) my siblings started questioning me about the outlook of my future. They've always been concerned about my schooling because I've been home-schooled my whole life up until college now. They asked me the typical questions about what I thought I wanted to do, and where I might want transfer to when the time came, etc. Then they came to the question, "What about taking the SAT's and the GED for the college you transfer too?" And my answer's always been, "Mom says that college's won't care that I've not taken the SAT and the GED because I'll be considered a transfer student." (The small college I'm going to this fall doesn't require those tests.) My siblings responded, "Really? I wouldn't believe everything Mom and Dad say - they might be a little mixed up." And I could have sworn I had told my siblings before about this.
A couple days later, my older sister looks up on the internet to find that most transfer students DO need a high school diploma & SAT/ACT scores. So now I'm crushed, because I was just preparing myself for a meltdown - but for the different reasons. It's so hard when you see a glimpse of what could be, and then it's snatched away. I was hoping so hard to move out - planning & planning and now it has to change and wait a bit longer 'til I study and take those tests. I just wish my parents could have paid more attention to what I'm really supposed to be doing. I do love my parents, it's just harder trying to figure things out on my own.
(Please comment if you'd like to)
So I'm starting my semester of college next week - I'm excited and nervous at the same time. I'm getting an associate, or a two-year degree. However, I found out that to get my degree in two years (and transfer to a larger college) I will have to take five classes each semester and, in addition, have to take classes in the summer. So I figured I would have to take all these classes while earning my blackbelt (testing for it this fall!) taking on a little job, and applying for colleges to transfer to (which includes figuring out what I want to do with my life, where I want to transfer to, writing, getting recommendations, etc.) which is a huge task, not to mention stressful. All of a sudden, everyone thinks I should know exactly what I want out of life, and what I want to do. Very crazy, but I'm prepared to take the challenge.
But wait, there's more. While my older siblings and I were waiting in line to reach the top of the Empire State Building (which is a very long line in more ways than one, I might add) my siblings started questioning me about the outlook of my future. They've always been concerned about my schooling because I've been home-schooled my whole life up until college now. They asked me the typical questions about what I thought I wanted to do, and where I might want transfer to when the time came, etc. Then they came to the question, "What about taking the SAT's and the GED for the college you transfer too?" And my answer's always been, "Mom says that college's won't care that I've not taken the SAT and the GED because I'll be considered a transfer student." (The small college I'm going to this fall doesn't require those tests.) My siblings responded, "Really? I wouldn't believe everything Mom and Dad say - they might be a little mixed up." And I could have sworn I had told my siblings before about this.
A couple days later, my older sister looks up on the internet to find that most transfer students DO need a high school diploma & SAT/ACT scores. So now I'm crushed, because I was just preparing myself for a meltdown - but for the different reasons. It's so hard when you see a glimpse of what could be, and then it's snatched away. I was hoping so hard to move out - planning & planning and now it has to change and wait a bit longer 'til I study and take those tests. I just wish my parents could have paid more attention to what I'm really supposed to be doing. I do love my parents, it's just harder trying to figure things out on my own.
(Please comment if you'd like to)
The Quest
"To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?"
~William Shakespeare (Hamlet)
When I first started reading a play by Shakespeare, it didn't take me long to stop reading it. Who could ever understand what he was writing? None of it made sense - why was he so important if he couldn't even write right? However, a few years later, I recognized his eloquence in writing - how he wove puzzles into words, and left us to find them. His readers have to work to understand, and therefore his writing is much more valuable. What makes Shakespeare so great though, is not his writing (although that is a part of him), but his thinking. His ability to put thoughts - deep thoughts - into writing is beautiful.
So today I ask, "To be, or not to be?" To live and bear the hardships of life? Or to die and risk the unknown? Or rather on a smaller scale for you and me: do we just stand and watch what is wrong with world - with our lives? Or do we fight to live (if life is indeed worth fighting for)? Yet what will the future world think of us if we remain silent? Why live if you can't - or won't - fight for what you believe in?
That is my question.
(Please feel free to comment!!)
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?"
~William Shakespeare (Hamlet)
When I first started reading a play by Shakespeare, it didn't take me long to stop reading it. Who could ever understand what he was writing? None of it made sense - why was he so important if he couldn't even write right? However, a few years later, I recognized his eloquence in writing - how he wove puzzles into words, and left us to find them. His readers have to work to understand, and therefore his writing is much more valuable. What makes Shakespeare so great though, is not his writing (although that is a part of him), but his thinking. His ability to put thoughts - deep thoughts - into writing is beautiful.
So today I ask, "To be, or not to be?" To live and bear the hardships of life? Or to die and risk the unknown? Or rather on a smaller scale for you and me: do we just stand and watch what is wrong with world - with our lives? Or do we fight to live (if life is indeed worth fighting for)? Yet what will the future world think of us if we remain silent? Why live if you can't - or won't - fight for what you believe in?
That is my question.
(Please feel free to comment!!)
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