After debating on whether or not to write something ever again.
Thank you all who replied so positvely regarding my last (real) journal entry.
I was worried some people would be offended, while others would be overwhelmed.
Thank you all again for sporting open minds. :)
I just wanted to mention that though I love writing entries like "Lost, but holding a map,"
I must admit that their appearances will be rare, considering my time-frames in which I have to write my posts. There is nothing I like more than sharing my innermost thoughts (in lengthy, essay-like formats) with my friends, and I promise that I will on occasion. Just, as you can expect, it won't be every day. For now, I hope all of you can be satistfied with little morsels of Andrew's insanely average life.
Last night, I was reading in the dorm lounge, CHARLOTTE'S WEB (for my child lit class).
I was minding my own business.
I was cuddled up.
I was wearing a t-shirt.
pajama pants.
socks.
Then, out of nowhere comes this girl. from outside. with
SNOW!
a pile! of ^
in her hands!
I wonder what she is doing. Until the snow was in my face.
This is my thought process from the point the snow made contact:
Huh? what the... fuckin' cold! real fuckin' cold!
UH!
UNNECESSARY!
what? she's laughing?
she's running away!
I need shoes.
I need a jacket.
hat.
*runs upstairs, dumbstruck*
*say to my roommate, "she's dead. so unncesssary. she's fuckin' dead."*
Oh. I need gloves. Don't wanna get my hands cold while I'm shoving her into the icy ground.
I walk downstairs.
I find her outside. hiding.
I chase her.
She stops. I wonder if it's because she knows the persuit is all in vain.
She smiles. I smile.
I turn away. I turn back. She's off running again.
"ha." i think to myself. "that is one slow runner."
I jump and attack her mid-air.
Her body cusions my fall.
Her head strikes the snow with a the sound of muffled victory.
My hands push on her head covered by a frosty hood.
she squirms. she stops squrming.
The only thing moving is the white breath that appears and disappears infront of my eyes.
I stand.
I appologize.
"I should be reading CHARLOTTE'S WEB.
Who was that girl?"
I had an idea in Chidren's Lit class today. Tell me what you think.
Stories have plots. right?
Credible plots.
Plots that unfold gradually, building a logical cause and effect sequence.
Well, do the events in Jack and Jill unfold gradually?
no.
They climb the hill.
Jack falls.
Jill follows.
why?
What is the logical gradual sequence? What is the cause and effect?
Does Jack fear wells? Does Jill try and kiss him?
what.
So!
I decided to... when i have the chance....
write a children's book on what happens on the in-between stages.
All the mother goose tales.
the real stories.
I think it might make a good book.
I'll work on the idea, and keep you guys updated.
let me know what you think.
I was worried some people would be offended, while others would be overwhelmed.
Thank you all again for sporting open minds. :)
I just wanted to mention that though I love writing entries like "Lost, but holding a map,"
I must admit that their appearances will be rare, considering my time-frames in which I have to write my posts. There is nothing I like more than sharing my innermost thoughts (in lengthy, essay-like formats) with my friends, and I promise that I will on occasion. Just, as you can expect, it won't be every day. For now, I hope all of you can be satistfied with little morsels of Andrew's insanely average life.
Last night, I was reading in the dorm lounge, CHARLOTTE'S WEB (for my child lit class).
I was minding my own business.
I was cuddled up.
I was wearing a t-shirt.
pajama pants.
socks.
Then, out of nowhere comes this girl. from outside. with
SNOW!
a pile! of ^
in her hands!
I wonder what she is doing. Until the snow was in my face.
This is my thought process from the point the snow made contact:
Huh? what the... fuckin' cold! real fuckin' cold!
UH!
UNNECESSARY!
what? she's laughing?
she's running away!
I need shoes.
I need a jacket.
hat.
*runs upstairs, dumbstruck*
*say to my roommate, "she's dead. so unncesssary. she's fuckin' dead."*
Oh. I need gloves. Don't wanna get my hands cold while I'm shoving her into the icy ground.
I walk downstairs.
I find her outside. hiding.
I chase her.
She stops. I wonder if it's because she knows the persuit is all in vain.
She smiles. I smile.
I turn away. I turn back. She's off running again.
"ha." i think to myself. "that is one slow runner."
I jump and attack her mid-air.
Her body cusions my fall.
Her head strikes the snow with a the sound of muffled victory.
My hands push on her head covered by a frosty hood.
she squirms. she stops squrming.
The only thing moving is the white breath that appears and disappears infront of my eyes.
I stand.
I appologize.
"I should be reading CHARLOTTE'S WEB.
Who was that girl?"
I had an idea in Chidren's Lit class today. Tell me what you think.
Stories have plots. right?
Credible plots.
Plots that unfold gradually, building a logical cause and effect sequence.
Well, do the events in Jack and Jill unfold gradually?
no.
They climb the hill.
Jack falls.
Jill follows.
why?
What is the logical gradual sequence? What is the cause and effect?
Does Jack fear wells? Does Jill try and kiss him?
what.
So!
I decided to... when i have the chance....
write a children's book on what happens on the in-between stages.
All the mother goose tales.
the real stories.
I think it might make a good book.
I'll work on the idea, and keep you guys updated.
let me know what you think.