Reason to run

Hey guys, so i took Rebecca's challenge. I actually wrote my story based on the first stanza of the song. The song i choose was Don't stop believing by Journey.
First stanza- Just a small town girl
Livin' in a lonely world
She took the midnight train goin' anywhere

City lights flashing past the train window. Brief glimpse of life and then there gone. Flashes of "normalcy". No one in New York is normal. My parents sure aren't. May be that's why i ran, I could hate my parents, or seeking attention, or anything. The fact is, I don't know why i ran, I just know I needed to get out, away from that world. To chase something I don't know what it is yet, but i will be worth it, i trust.

There is only one other person on the train other than myself, a little old woman, probable 80 or 90, sitting a couple of rows in front of me. She looked like the type of woman who would adore her grandchildren and shower them with love and affection. My grandmother is a 89 year old racist. Born in 1905, she grew up thought the height of American racism and prejudice. She could never understand why i would every befriend a black girl. She cut me out of her will accordingly. Forget her.
If i need money i could always sell blood.

It's midnight, right now my parents are getting home from what ever party they went to tonight. They will walk in the door, find me gone, all my belongings gone.

good bye good luck, i might never see you again

Feverish Ranting

Just go slow,
Don't-
Don't rush.
Time is on our side
for once
For twice around the track
It's not time;
the game hasn't begun
the clock isn't on
We never touched the starting line
and I could barely stand
But,
Under fluorescent lighting
you held my trembling hands.

Stumbling slowly,
we'll help each other home
On wandering legs
(like we also do)
Hold on to me;
I'll promise you
But don't try to talk
My words are cold -
your lips unfold
and it all falls through.
but I have so much left to say to you.

***********

I figured I'd try something less structured and more in the style of a free write since it's not really what I normally do, I normally find some sort of stronger structure.
Do you think it would've been better less structured? More structured?
Did it flow?
Also do you think the emotion is conveys is strong and consistent?
I feel it kind of shifts in feeling throughout. Do you think this is effective?
That is all :)

The end is near

Happy Halloween everybody!
Can you believe it is the end of October already? Does it feel like Halloween to you? I know it sure doesn't for me. I can't believe how pleased I am this week is finally over. I work in 30 minutes, and after I punch out today I will have logged close 70 hours since Oct.18th.

It's been rough at Party Packagers, the stores been stuffed full of people who are either really cranky, or really excited and I'm not which people are worse. You see, the cranky people are just straight rude. They walk into the store, see the line, complain about it, see how crowded it is, complain about it, order a costume and it doesn't come quick enough, they complain about it. The really excited people though, they're all over the place and touch everything. They pick weapons, try on masks and wigs, order costumes and god knows what else. This doesn't seem so bad, but the problem is they don't put stuff away so every aisle they've been down is now a mess because they decided to touch everything they could their hands on. Everyday this week I had to deal with them, and everyday I had to stay late to clean up. It's been crazy, we had line ups that went all the way down an aisle one day.

Finallllllllllly, tonight I will be able to relax. Most people will be partying tonight, or going out and doing something, but not me. Nope, I'm going to watch Lord of The Rings tonight. Just going to kick back and watch elves and little dwarves do some crazy shit with swords and arrows.

the dreaded scholarship essay wasn't so bad

below is the first of many essays I will be writing in the hopes of receiving scholarships. this last one was for the TD Canada Trust Community Leadership Scholarship. I actually ended up liking it, but the application has yet to be submitted. I really hope this wasn't a waste of my time! *sigh*

It began during an eighth grade oral presentation – that is, my love for young activist and founder of Free the Children, Craig Kielburger. The assignment was to choose an activist, take on his or her role and create a sort of treasury of important, symbolic items representing that person. One of these objects was a hand-made torch. As I spoke in front of my classmates, I felt my own passion overtaking the theatrical energy I embraced for the role. I found that I believed every word I was saying; that is was POSSIBLE to change the world; that ONE person can trigger a wave of community interest and global involvement; that WE are the generation we have been waiting for. It was that day Craig passed a torch onto me, and I am proud to say that I gladly took it in my hands. I was ready to make my mark, and I knew that day was only the beginning.

Currently in my final year at Sinclair Secondary School, I have since become a returning, active member of community-based groups such as Youth in Action and Model United Nations. We have hosted guest speakers such as Stephen Lewis and Free the Children, organized fundraisers for schools in Africa and the underprivileged in our own community. I have also personally taken charge of an awareness campaign that has met great success. It was, however, only in my third year that I became a member of the group that has enormously changed not only my life, but the lives of nearly one hundred others as well; this group is the Sinclair Leadership Camp Committee.

I had never put so much of my time and effort into an extra-curricular before. I was put in charge – only a couple of months before Camp began – of constructing an active workshop for the students who were chosen to attend. Using skills and strategies I had learned from retreats and acquired over the years, I taught my peers familiarity, confidence and most importantly, trust. I used games and activities to create the perfect environment for teamwork, giving students the opportunity to step up and discover their potential as leaders. As founding members, our goal was to create a smooth, fun and character-building leadership camp for our peers, and I’m proud to say that we more than succeeded. Students approached us in the hallways as the school year ended saying that it was the best camp experience they had ever had. They wanted to know how they might be part of the Committee next year. I speak for our entire 2009 Committee when I say that these comments will stay with us forever.

In celebration of our achievement last year, our mission statement rests proudly on the wall of our workroom: “Working Together to Lead and Inspire Potential Leaders of Today for Tomorrow.” To be honest, I think it is more than just a string of words for Committee Members. Those words are a reminder of our ongoing goal to reach out to the students at Sinclair Secondary, and by doing so, the community in the process. These students, in the long term, WILL be the leaders of tomorrow. THEY will sit on the Committee in years to come, volunteer at a soup kitchen, and maybe even travel overseas. SLC helps to foster the growth of leadership skills so that students can recognize that, like Craig Kielburger, they can make a difference in the world – and it starts with empowering youth and the local community.

Where Do I Take This?

For the Magnum Opus, I've narrowed it down to one free write. But I'm having problems with my corrections and modifications. It is the free write based on the skull.

Note: This is also a second version of the short story I wrote...


The killer gripped the shovel tightly in his hands. He looked down at his makeshift grave, satisfied at his work. He then tossed the shovel aside, as he cast an anxious glance over his shoulder. Though, he knew he wouldn’t be seen; it was late at night and no one dared walk off the park trail in such darkness. The moon was hidden behind heavy clouds, and the oak trees scattered around the expansive park provided the perfect concealment while he completed his task. He walked over to his car. It was parked along the trail, with the trunk facing the largest oak tree, where his makeshift grave was situated. Silently, he popped the trunk open, and heaved the awkward garbage bag onto the ground. He kicked and shoved at the large package, until it fell into the grave with a final thud. He then reached for the shovel and began to bury another of his demons…

* * *

Dr. Samantha Morrison sat in her office looking over a file, when the phone suddenly rang. "Department of forensic anthropology, Dr. Morrison speaking," she answered as she held the phone against her ear with her shoulder, while she continued to scan through the files. The man at the other end spoke quickly and urgently – her partner, Daniel Jacobs.

"Sam, we received an urgent call from Officer Reynolds, we’re needed at Beech Park."


"What happened?"

"I’ll explain when we get there." The phone clicked off abruptly. Samantha Morrison sighed, the stress of work was beginning to take a strain on her. Reluctantly, she closed up the files and stacked them neatly on her desk. Uncertain of what to expect, she headed out of the office.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Samantha was stepping out of her car and onto the damp grass at Beech Park. The park was normally filled with young children playing, people walking their dogs, or couples going for a stroll, but today it was filled with police officers. Two squad cars were parked along the trail, where cops were buzzing around frantically. Caution tape was strung hastily under a large oak tree. Two officers were interviewing a mother, with a young boy latched onto her leg. Samantha walked over to where Dan was standing, conversing with Officer Reynolds. Samantha had experienced enough similar situations to know what she was facing, without even asking. Dan turned to look at her, heavy bags under his youthful blue eyes. His career seemed to have aged him, especially in the last few weeks. "A body was found by that kid over there," he said as he nodded toward the young boy, still clinging to his mother. "The CSIs have taken a look at the body, but they require a specialist in forensic anthropology," he gave Sam a weak smile. She returned it half-heartedly. The pair then walked over to the area surrounded with caution tape and flustered officers. She put on her examination gloves and crouched down next to the remains. The CSIs had graciously exhumed the body, allowing her to easily study the skeleton that remained. She began to examine the bones, as Dan crouched down beside her, eagerly awaiting answers. She sighed heavily then began her unofficial report:

"The body belongs to a female…in her early to late teens. The body must at least six months old for it to be so decomposed… The C.O.D would probably be due to head trauma," she said, indicating the large hole at the top of the skull, "she would have died instantly. And these marks," she indicated to the markings engraved on the bones, "were given post-mortem…it looks like the body was dragged here," she drew in a shaky breath. Cases involving such young victims always got to her. "We’ll have to take her back to the lab so I can examine her further," she stood up warily, to see Dan surveying her worriedly.


"Sam. You okay?" he said, his eyes full of concern.

"Yeah," she quickly lied, as her eyes filled with reluctant tears. She tried to turn away, but Dan caught her arm, his concern deepening.


"Y’know, you’ve been working really hard lately, maybe it’s time that you take a break?" Dan said sympathetically. "The last few cases have been hard…on all of us. I would completely understand if you wanted to sit this one out." She nodded grimly. She desperately needed to take a break from all the violence, death and murder that surrounded her day to day life. Dan gently placed his arm around her, and they both started toward her car.

"Hey Dan!" one of the CSIs suddenly bellowed, "you may want to come see this!" Reluctantly, the pair headed to where the man was standing, a few trees down from the crime scene. As they approached, they noticed several more graves, similar to the first. Sam felt a wave of nausea as she looked down at the bodies of three more children. They were spaced evenly apart, in a similar matter of the first body.

"My God," Dan whispered, mostly to himself, "it’s like some sort of sick children’s graveyard," he looked up, horrified at the CSI, "It looks like we have a serial killer on our hands." He then turned to look at Sam, worried she wouldn't be able to handle it. But her tearful eyes were suddenly determined:

"It looks like I won’t be able to take time off anytime soon."

----------------------------------

So, I'm not even sure if I like the changes I made to the story. But what I'm really struggling with is where to take it?! My concern is that this short story, may eventually turn into a really really long story. So should I continue or should I leave it as a cliffhanger? If I do continue, should I end it with the murders being solved? How can I do that without producing an entire novel?

And also, let me know if the flow/ tone of the piece is good. I think some lines are a bit wordy, and need to be changed for authenticity. I'd also like to know if you think the characters are strong enough, or if I should develop them more. Does the story require more background on the character's history/events?

Any advice you give me would be greatly appreciated. Especially if you have any idea how to conclude it.

(PS. Diana, do you prefer this version or the first?)

As Time Runs Out...

My hands are clamped tightly around the circular object I was holding. I kept my hands gripped, but my fingers began anxiously drumming a thoughtless rhythm. My hands were clamped so tightly that my knuckles were turning white. My hands felt cold; numb...

Time was running out. My foot began to tap out of tune with my drumming fingers. I couldn't see far ahead, my vision was limited to a few feet in front of me. I kept glancing around nervously. I hadn't moved in a while. I stretched out my back, trying to relieve the tension that was building. A cold bead of sweat trickled down my spine. This shouldn't be taking so long, I thought, glancing around some more. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, knowing that I'd be too late...

The clock continued to race forward.

Then, suddenly, the threat of the passing time was no longer my only problem... I was now stuck. I couldn't move forward. I couldn't move backward. I was trapped. And the seconds continued to tick by. I ran my hands through my hair, nervously. My head felt moist. I was sweating. What is going on? I wondered, this should be over by now. My eyes kept darting to my watch. Was I too late or was my watch running fast? I clenched my hands again, trying to reassure myself. My business suit, suddenly felt too tight. I tugged at it, uncomfortable. It served as a dark reminder of where I had to be...

I looked up from the racing second hand, to see I could finally move forward. I was flooded with relief. But what if I'm too late? I thought, as I hastily wiped away the sweat, and inched anxiously forward. Then an eerily cheerful voice loomed:

"Welcome to Tim Horton's, can I take your order?"

"It's about time!"

there must have been something wrong with me

I was not myself.

It was a typical, dreary Sunday evening. After a long weekend of trying and failing to be productive and get a decent amount of research done, I curled up on my basement couch, hot chocolate in hand, and turned on the epitome of teenage soap opera TV:

Gossip Girl.

Now, you may be wondering why a girl like me - who watches shows like Supernatural and chooses Rise Against over Lady Gaga any day - would willingly turn on the latest teenage girl drama craze on television. To tell you the truth, I can't give you a simple answer. I don't like the stereotypes protrayed by the show. I don't think that the plot lines mimic those of my own life, or even the lives of people I know. It revolves around vibrant characters with cash to burn; last time I checked my bank account, I'm certain that I cursed myself for buying three or four too many lunches from the caf. *sigh*

I accept that my wardrobe will never consist of the latest styles and trends of Upper East Side (though I secretly wish I had an 'in' with the costume designer). I resolve that my life will never consist of meticulous scandals, high-profile love triangles, or run-ins with secret societies. I understand that I will never look that good walking to school with a coffee in one hand and my blackberry in the other - like, let's say, Blake Lively or Taylor Momsen.

Nevertheless, I sit, I sip, and - dare I say it? - I enjoy.

Week 5 posts

Good work again this week! Great posts and comments although, you DO seem to be obsessed with spacing....

Hey, this poem is half inspired by Romeo and Juliet and the the movie Bedazzled.

I made a deal with the devil
to achieve my only dream
I made a deal with the devil
and now in sleep i scream

I made a deal with the devil
to find my only love
I made a deal with the devil
and now just because

I made a deal with the devil
and now she's only seen
I made a deal with the devil
the man i should have been

I made a deal with the devil
and now she's on his side
I made a deal with the devil
and now i choose... suicide

The movie Bedazzling is about a man how makes a contract with the devil, so that he will be able to get the girl of his dreams. But every time he tries to make it better, he further pushes she away and makes her realize that she truly loved him the way he was. The final stanza is inspired by the thoughts going through Romeo's head as he approaches the Capulet's tomb and the dead Juliet. How he has nothing to live for anymore and has decided to take his own life, so he can be dead as well.

Manufacturing Art

We all love art in different ways, we all are artists in different ways, anything can be art, it's up to you to determine what art is to you. Thats what I love about art, it's so open ended, and although I love art, there are many artistic things I don't really like. That's to be expected though of course, I can't like everything I see, but at least I can appreciate it. What frustrates me though is that in today's society, art seems to be dying. Whenever I say this people give me strange looks, but no, i truly believe art is dying at least in North America.

You see the problem is, it's being manufactured more and more as a means of pleasing an audience. T.V is the perfect example of this, along with movies, and music. Most forms of art entertain people, however, that isn't necessarily what they're created for. You're probably thinking "But Van, if t.v shows aren't meant to entertain, then what are they for?" Well, my answer to that is, yes they are meant to entertain, thats what they have evolved into, and we've lost touch with what art's true goal is.

I believe art isn't there so we can appreciate it, so we can love it or hate it. No, I don't believe art is there for US, but for the artist. See, when the first painting was painted, was meant to be shown in a gallery for thousands to see and enjoy? I don't believe so. I believe it was the artists attempting to express themselves emotionally, or capture a memory, and have it last by painting it. However, today, people will create art simply to draw an audience.

This saddens me, to see art being manufactured, manipulating what people like to convince them to enjoy what they've created. Many movies are simply to make money and draw a crowd, not a display of an artists work. Don't get me wrong, I believe art is great entertainment, but I believe there needs to be a balance between the entertaining and the emotions of it.

Music is horrible for this, studio bands that sing about all those cliche things that makes everyone think they have someone to relate to. In reality, it's simply some producer playing on the needs and wants of us. It's disgusting, and I hate it.

Sometimes, I wish i could just go to some empty forest and live there away from the bullshit in society. I write A LOT more, but why would I want to bore you guys to death even more?

Failure

Hey so my computer is down right now and I'm typing this on an itouch. So yeah. Interesting experience. This piece is called failure.

This is the only time I will agree with my science teacher. They say in science that 9/10 you will fail and that is a good thing. I agree with this overly broad statement we are defined by our failures. From failure we grow, explore, challenge and inspire. Success is the true failure. To succeed means that you have achieved something that you already knew you could do. You have not learned anything, you already knew it, if you succeed. So why is failure, always the bad guy in this situation? Without failure we would have nothing.

Russian scientist, in the early years of space travel, sent one very brave dog named Liaka into space to test out there new satellites. The only problem is that they did not know how to get Liaka down. They failed to save her, but learned how to make space travel safe for all people. There initial failure furthered the exploration of man, and mans ability to travel in space.

Thomas Edison, the inventor of the light bulb, failed hundreds of times in his experimentation with the light bulb filament. Every time he failed he learned something new about electricity and conduction. Without his try and fail attitude, we might never have been able to understand fully the way electricity and current works.

Failure is apart of life, we try to be perfect, but the reality is that we will never be perfect. We make mistakes, we screw up, we fail. To the people who say, why both, I'm just going to fail anyway. I tell them to get over it and try it anyway. We are defined by our failures and they way we react to them.

So that is my rant on failure, i hope it inspired you to do something, and even if you fail you learned something new as a consolation prize.