Thursday, July 21, 2011

Writing and a sad mistake

I know you're out there laughing

I know you're out there, just laughing at what I used to be.
I know that I used to be a joke, and you can't take me seriously.

I know you think I still love you, and you're rolling on the floor.
It's true that you don't love  me, like you did once before.

It's true that if I saw you, I'd cry into my pillow for days.
It's true what I felt for you, I felt in so many ways.

Sometimes I thought you were the one, especially when we'd pretended we had a son.
An inside joke that which was fake, I should've known it was all a mistake.

You got my dad to like you, when he like no body else.
He taught you to play the guitar, when we got real close.

If I'd only known, I'd have saved my heart from all these scars.
All these scars you've caused, all the pain you've caused.

And you see, this is kind of funny.
You don't see this as you're fault, but you, you were the one that left.

You were the one that changed, you were the one that kept;
all the secrets baby, you're the blind one.
This hurts me real bad.

It's true that if I saw you, I'd cry for so many days.
It's true what I felt for you, I felt in so many ways.

Sometimes I thought you were the one, especially when reaching for the son.
An inside joke that was so fake, I should've known you were a mistake.

It's true that if I saw you, the feelings might come up.
It's true that if I saw you, I'd be stuck in a rut.

You got into nasty stuff, alcohol, drugs and all that.
I know I called myself so fat, but you used to tell me to stop it wasn't true.
Then you stopped saying it, and I gained a few.

So you're probably out there laughing, saying you were the superior one in this fight.
Though it's true that if I saw you, I'd punch you in the face.

Don't think I wouldn't, I just actually might.
So don't come back and don't come near.
Our son is mine, so don't come back here.

You were once welcome, now you can't for fear.
Because I loved him, once I did.

He was once for me and not for you.
And if by chance he invades my space, I'll take my fist and smash his face.
The End

Tysr, F U... don't come back.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Writing... and a shower?

    I was in the shower this morning, thinking about a lot of things. One thing included this blog and what I've done with it so far. I've only just started but I feel better about myself. Writing really is my life, and it's the walls I build my kingdom with.
    Of course I'd love this to my castle, but my imagination isn't quite old enough or experienced enough to be as beautiful. Although, we all sing in the shower, this is my best place to be when I need to think of something to help finish my novel. The shower.... I know, weird huh? Seriously, it works. You start singing random words. That's what I do, and it leads me to a possible scene that can finish my latest chapters or poetry. It's strange. Who would have thought that a shower would be my place of knowledge? A lot of the time, I only receive small bits and pieces that I later connect the dots with. Like this is the clue to the riddle, or this is the right answer to my question. Don't you just love it when you've written questions that help you bind a book together, and suddenly, you'll be talking to some one and just see it or hear it?? You'll know that THIS IS IT! I've found that missing puzzle piece, or what I need to do to make sure that my character doesn't die, or find a way to make something more mysterious. I've had a few shining moments where I was speaking to someone and randomly received a smack in the face by an answer to all my problems. (Well, not all of them. Just the ones that concern my latest scenes, or the ones near the end of the book).
    Another way I try to calm myself and find hidden ideas in objects is I look at old family pictures, and/or just pictures in general. Your brain starts to work and you start to think.

 what would it be like if this?

 What would I see?

What would I smell?

How could this have happened?

 Remember when?

    This photo is of when I was five years old. :) Ohhh, the memories. I used to wake up at the crack of dawn, climb on the counters and eat oreos for breakfast! Long before my mother or father would wake up. Sadly, I don't have a picture for that. The right photo is of my cousin Hazel and myself. It was a recent birthday party that was Hawaiian themed. So we had flower necklaces and hats and coconut bras.

    Looking at pictures that make you wonder and think is a way to get your mind creatively up and running. This for instance makes me think.
My friend took this picture at a My Chemical Romance concert. It actually looks really cool! I got goosebumps when I first saw it, and to this day, I have no clue why! Just to think for yourself? What are you thinking at this very second? Get your creative juices flowing.
Another type of photo to look at, a funny memory of something you or someone else did. I was going through my stuff to give away and I asked a few of my friends if they wanted anything before we gave it all to Good Will. My friend threw on a silly hat, one of my bras and acted like a pirate for the next hour! :) Doesn't it just make you smile? I know I do everytime I think about it. We laughed and giggled and I enjoyed myself.
I hope this blog has made you smile, laugh and help you find a way to write easier.

Enjoy the rest of your day!

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Writing and Me

     My life consists of a few components. Writing, Writing, Writing, and... well video games. :) I am after all still a seventeen year old teenage girl. As far back as I can piece together, I was always writing, always wanting to be a famous author perhaps like Stephenie Meyer, J.K. Rowling, James Patterson, J. R. R. Tolkien, Stephen King, and Dean Koontz. These individual opportunists took what they had out of their hopes and dreams and bound them into books that grasped our attention and energized our thoughts and feelings.
    It's funny how every person as a child had the desire of being a firefighter, a princess, a pirate or a rockstar. (Oh wait, so did I!) An author however is somewhat... let's say different. They still have the desires to be what they see on TV or during everyday life.  As I see it, writers are in tune with their imagination, their dreams, their fantasies, and their need to strive and stand for more than just a crummy job at Culver's or Fed Ex, or your local grocery store.
    Some say that writers are different from the next person within the crowd; that they are weird and close to schizophrenia. (Trust me, I've heard this...) They can say that we can't survive and make it as "Just a writer". Look at Stephen King. His mind is one of the most darkest, various, and emcompassing of thoughts that anyone has ever encountered. Look where he ended up? What can I say? He's kind of weird, but he's my idol. He took his dreams, and made what he had into what's been read globally. He is world wide known. Even some of his books have been turned into movies.
    That is what some authors want. They want to be known for what they are capable of. No more going through those ratty old jobs that the creeps down the street work at for forty years because they don't have the courage to get up off their lazy butts and make something of themselves and what they once wanted to be as a person. They lose trust in themselves. An author, they trust in only their imagination, instincts, and their coffee to get through another ideal, sleepless night.
    NO more conversations and school discussions about "what you want to be and do when you grow up." This is another difference between your average person and a writer. They don't think of writing as a job that they have to drag their hinders out of bed for by 8 o'clock in the morning, to drive to and bore them through the rest of their days (and natural life). Writing is a passion, that for some people does seem to be their way of paying the rent and meeting deadlines for, but it means so much more than that. It's love in a nutshell.