Work Hard, Play Harder

Friday math class is always very...interesting to say the least. It's always a double period, and we (my class) have a tendancy to learn something the first period and do absolutely nothing the second.
Even my teacher knows how to appreciate Friday.
Of course, not having any work to do often leads to boredom. And boredom often leads to disaster.
We goof off and occasionally get a little loud. One of my friends usually gets yelled at, though rarely is he the one who screwed up.
Although, I suppose it did look a little weird, me with my foot up on a desk and him writing on the bottom of my shoe. I can't really blame the teacher for getting mad.
It was probably then I decided that my beat up but much loved Converse weren't exciting enough. So he and another friend each claimed a foot for their own and decorated the shoes.

I think they look pretty cool.

Excerpt: Starting Over...Again

“Okay, now that I’ve got you here where cell service is non-existent and the next gas station isn’t for miles; what is wrong with you? You’ve been out of it for days, we miss the old Andy.”
“We?”
Chase rolled his eyes. “We, us; all your friends who care about you and are worried; none of us can figure out what’s wrong.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered quietly, dipping another fry in ketchup and popping it in her mouth.
“Well, too bad, cause not talking about it is not an option. Obviously something is bothering you; talking about it will help.”
“How do you know?” Andy asked, her anger exploding out of her. “Your life is perfect, what’s ever been wrong with you?”
Chase shrugged. “Maybe you’re right, maybe my life is perfect. But we’re not talking about me; we’re talking about you.” He reached out and grabbed her left hand, flipping it over and revealing the small tattoo on her wrist.
“Why don’t you tell me what this is?”
“It’s Chinese, it means laugh.” She flinched at his touch as he traced the symbol with his finger.
“Why did you get it?” he asked softly, locking eyes with her. She looked away quickly.
“I don’t know, I just…I knew I was leaving. I knew that I was leaving China, leaving home…again, and I didn’t want to start over in a new place without some sort of reminder. I had already left too much behind.”
She pulled her hand away, tucking it into her sleeve and under the table, clasping it with the other.
“Dad had promised we were gonna stay. He said this was it, our last home, no more moving. And I knew he didn’t mean it. So I wanted to remember.”

Stuck Like Glue

I hate being stuck on a story. It’s probably my least favorite part about writing, because I get so frustrated in myself, and the story. (I can’t put all the blame on myself, now can I?) I can be sitting right in front of the computer, all prepared to start typing…and nothing. I know where it needs to go and I know how I want it to get there, but it’s like I’m just stuck on this one spot, and there’s no way to get unstuck.

It’s worse than writer’s block. At least then I have an excuse for not writing, I don’t know where to go with the plot. When I’m stuck, I just can’t seem to work up the strength to focus on my writing and, well, write. I’m just, stuck!

Until inspiration hits, I get back into the rhythm, and the story flows out of my brain and into the computer, via my fingers.

Thank you fingers, thank you.

Now I just need to find some magical cure for Sticky Fingers. (It sounds more like I’m stealing then having trouble writing.)


On another note, I have accomplished my good deed for the day. My brother and I just spent the last couple of hours helping our neighbor shovel out her driveway.
Karma owes me big time.

Feel free to turn back now :)

This is where I write something deep and emotional about why I chose to start a blog. It might be because I feel I have an amazing life and want to share it with the world. Maybe it’s because I have the life experience to enrich the world with perfect advice and life altering stories.

That’d be a lie. I’m doing this to help me with my writing, to try something new…really just because I want to do it.

I’m in high school, in an honors English class, and writing is my numero uno passion in life. For the past two years I have participated in an online program called NaNoWriMo, short for National Novel Writing Month, and this past year I won.

That’s right, I wrote a novel. *insert applause here*

It’s sloppy and short and full of plot holes, but it’s my baby and I love it. I may occasionally post excerpts, if only to boost my confidence about it.

In addition to editing my novel, I’ve started another story called Polaroid. I’m having a lot of fun writing it, but it’s not easy, being a bit of a romantic fantasy, something I’ve attempted in the past but never really succeeded with.

When I’m not writing, I’m cheering for my high school, coaching a city cheerleading team (it’s the off season now) and, like every other high schooler, studying.

That’s my life. Welcome to my story.