Journal Entry Number Three - My last words

I find that when I am typing, it's actually easier to express myself. When I'm sitting in class for fifteen minutes it's near to impossible to think of what I want to write and then when it comes to me, my writing hand isn't fast enough to write it down. I'm a speedy typer.

So I wrote this is class today. Its kinda stupid but that's all I could think of in my time in class, and I really dont feel like trying to think up a new topic to type about. Because then I get all indulged in it and it ends up being the size of a novel. I'm not looking to publish any novels anytime soon, so I'm just going with what I got. Enjoy

oh wait.. oh crap

wow I just did something stupid
We handed in our journals today.. and so I'm looking through my notebook frantically trying to find it, and then I remembered yeah, I handed it in.. what a dumbass.

Well well.. okay yeah

ummmmm.. So its the last day of the quarter. I'm going to miss it really because I loved creative writing. Like that day when we did absolutely nothing but listen to Tholen talk about her water softener and water pouring through her walls. That day was classic. Or when we got the low down on Jessicas relationship with Paul.. day by day. My favorite was Tennett and her analyzation on Sesame Street, and Santa Claus.. ever wonder why they only come up to his waist? Oh man. That class was good and I'm seriously going to miss it because I could both express myself and get to know people who I would not normally even talk to. Very stereotypical-breakage. Nice work Tholen, You brought us together through writing and our self expression and we learned to love and respect one another and look deeper than appearance.. cheesy I know.. but its the morning.. okay..

farewell class. you guys rock

Journal Entry Number Two - addicting computer games

So I was pondering upon a new topic to cover, because yeah, I still haven't found my binder. I came to Mr. V's class and asked him if I may have left it here on accident, but still no luck. So this is when I have to think. I dont really like to think, especially when I wouldn't have to if I had my binder. So this is lame.

Well we got our cute little classbooks and I was looking through and I came across Hagemann's Credo on The Sims. For any and all of you who know what that game is, oh it's lovely. Not to mention addicting. Back in my high school summer days of not having a car or license, playing The Sims became a daily activity. Me and my sister would fight over the computer and how long we got to use it.. it was more entertaining than anything on television or outside. And since I lived in a neighborhood full of kids at least 3 years younger than me, The Sims seemed like a lot better of an option than a lemonade stand. Yeah, been there, done that. You make great money I tell you

The Sims was a beautiful game, smart and practical, besides the fact that they didn't speak actual words. They spoke with bubbles above their heads with little pictures in them. Generally I would create someone much like myself in adult form, and make myself the man of my dreams. Then I would put us in a house or on an empty lot. First off, it could take up to an hour or longer just to create the people.. but then comes the house building.

Now I was an expertise at the game, so I obviously knew cheat codes that would give me more money. So whenever I needed a couple thousand dollars.. poof.. "rosebush;;;" and your wish is my command. Pool? got it. How about a pool table? yup. A private home gym? A day spa? A spacious kitchen with the most expensive appliances? You betcha. Making the house is, in itself, probably the most rewarding and interesting part of the entire game. Spending 3 hours making a house, painting the walls and furnishing the whole place couldn't be more satisfying.

So then you actually start playing.

First off, your sims dont even know each other. Its like picking a random person and living in a big house with just them. So you have to make them talk. They can also do numerous other things with each other such as tickling, telling jokes, hugging, kissing, dancing.. and if you "kiss" enough, the woman will ask if you want to have a baby. Sure! But thank god that there is no pregnancy, no morning sickness, no labor.. just poof. theres a baby cradle with a bundle of joy! It will keep you up all night, and if you don't neglect it and get it taken away, after 3 days it will become a child. They are often really ugly children.

So you live your life, maybe get a job or a promotion.. meet new random people who take walks down your road, have a get together and do some karioke, you name it, you can probably do it. Except you dont have a car. So you hafta carpool if you get a job.. its stupid.

Extensions include being able to go on vacation or to tinseltown and the newest Sims 2 leaves your computer with absolutely no memory.. not to mention its a lot more complex. I dont like it

Basically you just play these people in their everyday life and control what they do and when they do it. Unless you dont let them go to the bathroom and they pee their pants. You DO hafta take care of them. Or the grim reaper will come for them. Once my sister's Sim was cooking and started the kitchen on fire, and her dumbass forgot to install fire detectors so the fireman never came and the flames engulfed her and she died. My sister actually cried.

Its an intense game I tell you.

How I feel about the "blog"

First off, blog is a funny word. I don't like it, I don't understand it, it makes no sense. And I've seriosuly considered its meaning several times and I give up. We'll call them journals.. yes that makes sense.

This whole "journaling/blogging" business comes as nothing new to myself. A very long time ago I was reading some person's blogs on a thing called LiveJournal and it sparked my interest. I started to write and people would let me know how much they liked each entry, which only made me want to write more. I would write about my day, what happened, and how I was feeling.. and it felt wonderful to be able to say those things that I was thinking and feeling out loud in writing. "Bloggin-G" per se, is a good way for self expression. I then met myspace. it is wonderful. You can put pictures and music and all sort of other things on your page which just tickles me pink. It's quite addicting to be honest, checking to see if anyone left you a comment or a message or even a comment on your picture. It's a great site, not to mention it also has a blog which I use on the good occasion that I feel like telling everyone about my day

So when asked how blogging is going so far, I'd say well.. very well .. I applaud anyone who could think of such a thing as to a blog. You cant see me clapping

3 Poems from that long dreaded packet

I'm thinking of you, what else can I say?
Tears Fall
Down
like tiny bombs
to my
heart
as we
stretch millions,
countless
memories
from a land
of tens of thousands of
lakes,
to a city of
sin
come back soon,
your life
misses you



Haiku

Out in the lawn chair
I love basking in the sun
Soaking up it's rays



Rhetorical Question

What if you were a pen
Forced
to push words
phrases
onto countless sheets of
paper

I guess it would be
Satisfying
Knowing
that your ink
Lies
in the history of great work

Journal Entry Number One - never drink stolen fruit punch

After searching my house left and right, searching my car and my hardly-used locker several times I've come to the conclusion that my binder is lost. I have no idea what happened to it or how I could've misplaced it but yeah it's gone alright. Maybe it got tossed out the window on the highway with the empty krispy kreme box that sat in my back window for weeks. Or it may simply be that Adam loved my "my soul is a little princess" journal so much that he just decided to take my binder altogether. I was going to put that one up here for ya buddy. Oh well..

Anyway its early in the morning and usually about this time I'm gettin delerious (a dictionary would be helpful now) .. not to mention my right contact is sticking to my eyeball in such a way that its nearly impossible to keep my eye open at all.. it would be quite the sight if you saw me right now, all winking trying to unstick my eye.. yes.. I'm winking at you.. yes you.. see there I go.. I'm going nuts again.. or maybe it was that fruit punch.. something in that fruit punch

you see.. today me and my friends decided to go shopping.. something that I havent done in a while so it was good for me. like therapy almost.. except you actually get something good out of it.. like a pair of pants or a new hat.. and if youre lucky it wont cost anything.. .. uhhh.. well we went to 2 malls.. because i have a very stupid friend and we'll leave her name annonymous.. oh lets just call her jenny. jenny is blonde (much like myself) except she is the one that the people are talking about in blonde jokes.. the one that gives us a bad name.. shame on her lack of common sense. some of her greatest lines are

"86.. (reading an interstate sign).. thats a funny speed limit!"
"You never see any other celicas with a paint job"
"I got my everlasting lipstick on you!"
and the classic...
"How do you know I don't have a penis!!"

anyway.. shes outrageously blonde.. and so we went to the crappiest mall there is and then went to Maple Grove after finding nothing at the other one..

So then we're hungry. its me, jenny, rhianna, and randi. well randi wants chipotle.. and after missing the turn rhianna sees panera, and wants bread. and i see noodles n co. and i want noodles. and jenny sees leanne chin.. and wants chinese. so we each go to our choice of food and get it to go and meet at chipotle. well on the way i got some free fruit punch. this is why you dont steal.. it messes you up.

so we're all sitting in this bar stool kinda thing.. facing the window.. and we can all see our reflection since it gets dark at around 5 these days.. so we start bounching.. like oopma loompas. jenny goes up as i do down and thats pretty much all we did.. besides eat. it was awesome

then we left and while throwing my bag of plastic forks and plastic containers away.. i wave goodbye to the garbage. i swear somebody spiked my fruit punch. we then have an odd ride back, and we go to krystas and play scrabble. no joke, the boardgame. when it wasnt my turn i would go lay on the floor with krystas 7 year old sister and color pictures of turtles and label the parts of their bodies. i dont know what was in that fruit punch. I wore a train conductors hat that I recieved for free from pacsun that all my friends think is ugly. But i'm in love with that hat. I dont care what you say, that hat stays on. nah nah nah nah boooo boooo. so go away. its cute and youre lame.

this has been way over 15 minutes though and I might as well plan on no sleep tonight
later.

Fiction Best Write

Returning to Your Stomping Grounds

The high pitched ring signified that someone had entered Rusty’s Board Shop. The tope walls covered in colorful snowboards and binders and boots were all too familiar in her mind. Dakota stared down at the ground as she scuffed her snow-covered shoes against the doormat. She looked around, to see if anyone was aware of her subtle entrance. Confirming her negative assumptions, she began to pace the room in search of an employee.
“I’ll be right out,” echoed a familiar voice from the back room. Dakota rubbed her sweaty hands against her sides of her silver jeans in anxiety of what he might say when he saw her. A tall, tan, dark haired boy emerged from the swinging door, his eyes widening.
“DK, what are you doing here!” he ranted in udder shock and confusion. She gave a slight, unnerving smile, not knowing what to say.
“Uhhh, I’m back,” she hesitated. Her heart pounded at where to start.
“Why! What happened?! Is everything okay?” he worried inching closer to her, yet still behind the front desk, keeping his distance as if seeing a mirage. Dakota looked as if she were to bust out crying, blanking out of any other emotion, but another familiar figure tore through the swinging door, breaking their silence.
“Dakota!!” rang a skinny kid with blonde shaggy hair. He energetically hopped over the front desk and hugged Dakota intensely.
“Hey, Benny,” she smiled, lightened in spirits.
“I knew you came back for me!” he grinned. “What did I tell you, Ty, I said ‘If DK comes back, it’s because she misses me too much.” Dakota grinned and shook her head at the quirky kid.
“Aw man, it’s gonna be so awesome now, back to the old days when we’d all go boarding together, tear up this place again,” Benny reminisced. Ty caught Benny’s eye and gave a serious stare, letting Benny know that this wasn’t all perfect.
“Ohhhhh okay, I’ll let you two have your alone time,” Benny protested. “But Dakota, come hit me up later and we’ll tear up the board park, okay?”
“Alright, Benny,” she laughed, as he bounced out of the board shop. Ty looked back over to Dakota in hopes of explanation, but did not push her. She looked overwhelmed enough, throwing her short brown hair into a ponytail and throwing the stray hairs behind her ears.
“I don’t know where to start,” she proclaimed, taking a deep breath.
“Lets sit down,” Ty suggested, motioning to the bench next to the large display of snow boots on sale.
“So why are you here?” he pressed, hoping to figure her out. Dakota’s face got sour once more, thinking back to all the reasons she chose to get on that plane and fly back to Colorado to her hometown, and to her life. The whole situation pulled on her heavy heart, formulating small tears in her eyes.
“I hate it there,” she surely stated. “My mom, my stepdad, I hate everything about California. My mom doesn’t understand the life I had here in Denver, she thinks that I can just move to the snootiest, stuck up town in all of California and just expect to adapt. Nobody there understands me, let alone cares what I’m going through.”
“So your mom just bought you a ticket for you to come back?” Ty asked, still somewhat confused at her sudden appearance. Dakota glanced down with a look of guilt.
“Uhhh, well there’s this emergency credit card that my mom keeps in the bottom drawer of her desk in the office. This was an emergency,” she hesitated, knowing his response would not be pleasant.
“You took your mom’s credit card without asking and bought a ticket to come back here, all because you were facing a rough time! What happened to sticking through things? Your mom’s probably worried sick about you!” he ranted, then noticing her watering eyes. He placed his arms around her apologetically as she began to cry softly.
“I.. I.. I.. left a.. a.. note…” she managed to mutter out between sobs. He pulled his head back and grinned at her, as she wiped her wet eyes and rubbed her make-up covered finger all over his shirt.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she said, scrunching up her face at him. “You’re just too funny when you’re upset,” he smiled. Dakota felt a little better now, remembering just how much she had missed that blue-eyed boy since she had been gone. He stared into her eyes a little more, knowing that although it wasn’t alright for her to have left, he was glad that she was back.
“Well hey, you can stay at my house for however long you need, just as long as you call your mom so she can stop worrying about your dumb ass,” he teased.
Dakota rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said, shaking her head at him. Standing up, looking around at the old board shop where she once worked, she glanced back over at Ty.
“So what’s new around these parts. I feel like I’ve been missing out.”
“You have,” he said as he stood up and walked towards the backroom. “We’ve got this new women’s board by Burton, just came in last Friday and it has your name on it. Care for a run-through in the board park? I bet you’ve forgotten the taste of my snow dust in your face by now, huh?”
“Oh, I’ll take you up on that,” she challenged. “And it’ll be you eating my snow dust.”

Poetry Best Writes

A Movie Script Ending

Laying on his couch
Him on the recliner
The smell of tension fills the air
Like a hot air balloon
And this is all too new
With an odd silence before them,
And so much behind them
Everything has changed

Its time for him to leave
She gets up
Confused
Not a kiss
Not a caress
Makes her wonder
Is it over?
She sits in the car
Contemplating
Turning over and over
What has just happened
Builds her confidence
Enough to go back in
To try and feel something
Besides such hurt

Looks up in his eyes
“I forgot something”
She forces from her tongue
“What?”
And she leaned closer
Softly kissed his sweet lips
He walks away
Leaving an awkward lump
Inside her torn heart
Everything blurs
As the scene fades to black



Lightness

Springing
off the tips of my tippy toes
Lifted
towards the big blue
my eyes
glancing upward
in wonder
as I smile for all the beauty
this world holds

Floating
higher above
Everyone below me
ants
scrambling this earth
as I graze my fingertips
through fluffs of cloud

Spinning
in light circles
of dandelions and the
wind
Hoping
never to come down
from this wonderful feeling
taking over me
For one beautiful
moment
I realize
that nothing else
matters

Non-Fiction Best Write

There’s Nothing Wrong with Las Vegas



My tired, crusted eyes strived to open just a crack, to realize that the small bit of light coming through my window signified the morning. Was it a dream? Was it all a joke? My half-asleep body turned over as my first instincts were to find my phone. My heavy arms searched the nightstand first, and then the cold floor. The freezing metal caressed my fingertips as I found my phone near the vent. I had a voicemail. I could feel my heart pounding as I neared what might crush everything I had hoped were a lie.
“Password, Please?” the monotonous woman on my voicemail said. “You have one new voicemail, sent today at 2:16 A.M:
‘Hey Jocelyn, I just wanted to tell you not to worry, I’m going to be okay. And just know that I won’t ever forget you,’ I could hear him sniffle, and my eyes filled with tears. ‘I’ll call you when I get to the airport in the morning, I love you.’”
I layed in bed, in the aftermath of what seemed like a tragedy, recalling crying myself to sleep the night before. My eyes blurred once more, as it had all happened too fast.
It was late on one of those summer days when the days don’t even matter. A simple phone call from my best friend, Rhianna, left me confused. She was crying as I made my attempts to calm her down.
“What’s wrong?” I hurried, to try and fix the wariness in her voice.
“Spencer’s leaving, he’s gone,” she cried. Still confused, I pushed on towards an explanation. “He… he got in a fight with his mom.. and.. and.. her boyfriend got involved. He punched her boyfriend.. he.. he.. he told me to say goodbye for him. He’s leaving for Las Vegas.. tomorrow.”
Initially I laughed, there was no way that he could leave Minnesota. All I would have to do is call him and figure this out. But his nervous voice on the other end of the phone only confirmed my fears.
“I’m packing to go live with my dad,” he proclaimed, as he laid a ton of bricks on me. “No joke, Mike is coming to get his stuff from me right now.”
“You can’t leave,” I demanded. “You can’t, you just can’t.” My demands turned into small sobs and before I knew it I was crying like a newborn baby. This couldn’t be real, no way. He’s just joking with me. This is just him playing with my head. I know better than to believe him.
“When my mom told me to pack my snowboard, I knew she was serious,” and everything inside of me crushed. This person who had meant so much in my life was being taken away so quickly that I was so in shock of what it is that I should do. Who was I going to confide in? Who was going to make me smile when nobody else could?
“I have to go, my mom’s going to take my phone,” he concluded.
“I’m going to miss you, I love you,” I told him before the line was broken.
I turned to my clock and realized the time. 12:30. I needed to leave. I needed to go see him, to tell him how much I will miss him. I silently waltzed to my mom’s room in attempt to be granted permission to leave. But sobs and whines didn’t work for her at 12:30 in the morning. My heavy heart was helpless, I couldn’t even say goodbye. Breathing harder than before, all I could do was nothing. My pillow an ocean, or sponge, per se, soaking up my endless tears. I was a damsel in distress, with black mascara running down my rose red cheeks, and my nose becoming stuffy. My saddened eyes closed once more, yearning to fall asleep, and forget of all the leading events. Coldplay’s soft melody of the beautiful song “What If” rang through my head, and I caught my breath once more before I fell into a deep sleep…

Laying in my bed that early morning, I rose to make just one phone call.
“Hello?” said the deep voice of his best friend, Mike.
“Hey,” I calmly replied, ready to hear just what I didn’t want. A silence arose as I pulled myself to ask those words that I wish had no answer.
“Is he gone?” My heart raced. Gut wrenched, I awaited a brutal answer.
Mike sniffled, and I could hear gentle tears from the other end of the telephone.
“Yeah,” he cried.
And with that, I laid back down, unwilling to find a purpose for ceasing the day, and let the tears fall down, as a lullaby for sleep.