current | archives | profile | mail | notes | extras | brains | random | host
Someone's boring me. I think it's me. - Dylan Thomas
[2008-08-23] @ [9:54 p.m.]
music Nightwish - Eva
I was trying to get my stuff together today, you know, last minute packing before going back to school. I was going through some notebooks and a picture fell onto the floor. I don�t remember when the picture was taken, or who took it for that matter, but it was taken when I was doing a poetry reading at an open mic night.
During my senior year in high school, I had a creative writing class. I took that class because I thought it would be fun and an easy A for my senior year to help boost up my GPA before graduation. Well, I was right on both accounts. It was a fun and easy A, but more came out of it. A small social life emerged. As weird as that sounds, I was very introverted in high school. I still consider myself an introvert, but I still have made improvements in the social world.
After I went to that first open mic reading at Java Junction the second or third week in September during my senior year, it became the highlight of my week. I always looked forward to going to it. I would construct my work schedule around it even, when I did work. Java was a steady thing for two years, even when I was at school, until the coffee house was sold. With it went some great friends and experiences I just haven�t been to track down.
Yet the love of writing came and still exists, especially with poetry. Granted, I have done a poem in awhile. There was a time when I would do nothing but poems and that was my entire life. I had quite a few people agree that poetry was a better genre for me because my point didn�t become so lost in the prose. The thing about poetry is that is brief and direct. My 12th grade AP English teacher, Mrs. Woolery (a marvelous teacher that encouraged me to study English even now), used the simile that poetry was like perfume. You use only the barest essence of it, just like perfume. Overuse too much perfume, and you smell worse than before. Try to use too much figurative language to make it seem more�poetic, the point gets lost and its crap. I will never forget that comparison and I use it every time when I discuss poetry.
Now, granted, this past year I�ve been working with prose, writing stories and different drafts with certain characters. I digress, but every now and then I do a poem. My last one was in May and sometimes, inspiration just comes from lines or sensations or experiences. I find it odd I am constantly writing snippets in my head, or writing one-liners down on scraps of paper or in notebooks like �He�s training to be a unicorn�. I have no idea how that might relate to an idea but it is there because I thought it worthwhile.
Tonight, in a rare turn of events, the windows were open even though it feels like ninety too me throughout the house. So I thought of Mexico. I�ve never been there, but I thought of Mexico. I�m watching a marathon of Law and Order: SVU in the background and they had a motel as a featured scene or something. Now I connect it to someone laying in Mexico in a roach ridden motel in the steaming heat with a bottle of tequila trying to figure out how the hell he or she got into this mess. The idea has the makings of something in it, I�ll figure it out. It gives me something to work on besides sketching.
I love playing with words and sounds. Hell, I love languages and words. It's a lot friendlier than numbers to me. Except when I try to speak a foregin tonuge, then I'm not so good. Anyways, the way something is presented is affects the way the reader or listener will interpret it (the meaning or point of the message). I love making a reader believe one thing and putting in a big twist and doing something else. It makes me feel like a mad genius. A mwahahaha in there for good effect.
I won�t really get a chance to read everyone�s diary or leave any notes till tomorrow. I just had enough time to type up this amazingly long entry that I�ve been trying to work on for these past few days, adding bits and pieces for a cohesive entry. I was about to say agruement or paper. It sounds like I'm ready for school.
The quick-for-real update: I�m going back up to the apartment tomorrow. A part of me doesn�t want to go because it doesn�t feel like home, even though my stuff is up there. Home is here, but this could also be an excuse of prolonging the last year. I don�t know what is beyond the graduation ceremony; there might be flesh-eating zombies out there. You never know. Even though I am looking forward to graduation. I�ll give a proper update tomorrow night once everything is settled and packed away and the world is happy. I still need to find my bike lock though�
Till then (or tomorrow rather), cheers.
This was random tonight. Indeed. If you finished it, you deserve a cookie.
So, quick thanks for the image from confusedvision, under the Creative Commons License 2.0. The inspiration came from Lacuna Coil, an awesome gothic metal band from Italy.
This place on the web is fueled by diaryland, firefox, psp 9, caffeine in any form, books, slavic literature, and random bursts of ideas. With the exception of the image
and lyrics, the design and code involved is mine. Graize.
