"i know right! one day you're all relaxed, enjoying life NOT in the fast lane- possibly the carpool- and BAM all of a sudden life side-swipes you and your life-car-thing swerves and you almost hit a pedestrian and it's just.. WHOA. Life."
-Alexa Terhorst
2.20.2009
2.10.2009
Kicks and Giggles
(Ok, I feel like a ridiculous twelve year old, but I just checked out my facebook, and this kid I had the HUGEST crush on in the fifth grade just added me as a friend! Ah! Memories!)
(AND, in the middle of English today, the really beautiful kid in front of me turns around and says that he likes my shoes. Random, right?)
(Boys can be fun sometimes.)
(AND, in the middle of English today, the really beautiful kid in front of me turns around and says that he likes my shoes. Random, right?)
(Boys can be fun sometimes.)
Surviving Magazines
Wow. One long weekend of relatively bad event after relatively bad event. It was still enjoyable, to some extent, because I got to curl up with crappycomp and write a lot. (I'm coming out of writers block stage, I believe. Or, well, I hope.) And I tried to do visualizing certain characters, by ripping a ton of pictures out of magazines and lying them on the floor, and it can supposedly help you have a deeper sense of character... but it only made me freakin FRUSTRATED. Because I can't find my characters faces (I didn't expect to at all), nor their personalities, because a lot of them aren't the sort that would be posing for such ads in a fashion magazine. I spent an afternoon doing that, and it really made me mad and frustrated... which is a horrible thing, if you think about it. Oh well.
I suppose I should write some sort of profound statement before closing...
Um... what was it that was in my bio poem?
Eat hate.
There you go.
Profound.
I suppose I should write some sort of profound statement before closing...
Um... what was it that was in my bio poem?
Eat hate.
There you go.
Profound.
2.07.2009
Just let him go...
Ah ha! It is finished!
My 7-8 minute talk on charity. HA! EL FIN!
And it totally only took like an hour. PSH SHAW!
So. Sigh. There we go. It's over.
Oh, hey, I DID PRODUCE SOME NON-CRAP, just now! My talk! It's not COMPLETE crap; I'm definately not PROUD of it, or want to go flaunting it about or whatever, but I produced five pages of writing that isn't exactly eye-bleeding stuff. Or ear-bleeding, because I'm going to be saying it. Well, actually, I can't promise that! We'll see tomorrow. If we can get away without an ambulance, than I think we'll be ok.
Oh my gosh, that reminds me of this story I heard in my sister's child psychology class... ha ha ha ha!!! IT WAS SO FUNNY, just how he SAID it...
So, he says he's sitting in church one day, and after a hymn, he looks back at grumpy Uncle Bill or whoever, and he's FREAKING DEAD. Right in the middle of church, perched in his pew. So, the call 911, and they're able reassesitate him or whatever- get his heart going, and he comes on back and is alive again. Only, Uncle Bill isn't too happy. Actually, he's pretty pissed off- he's mad that they had the nerve to bring him back and not just let him die and get away from them all!
I don't know, I just thought that was funny. I think he ended up living for like 7 more months before dying a second time- and they knew not to get the heart shockery things.
MAN, my neck hurts like none other...
My 7-8 minute talk on charity. HA! EL FIN!
And it totally only took like an hour. PSH SHAW!
So. Sigh. There we go. It's over.
Oh, hey, I DID PRODUCE SOME NON-CRAP, just now! My talk! It's not COMPLETE crap; I'm definately not PROUD of it, or want to go flaunting it about or whatever, but I produced five pages of writing that isn't exactly eye-bleeding stuff. Or ear-bleeding, because I'm going to be saying it. Well, actually, I can't promise that! We'll see tomorrow. If we can get away without an ambulance, than I think we'll be ok.
Oh my gosh, that reminds me of this story I heard in my sister's child psychology class... ha ha ha ha!!! IT WAS SO FUNNY, just how he SAID it...
So, he says he's sitting in church one day, and after a hymn, he looks back at grumpy Uncle Bill or whoever, and he's FREAKING DEAD. Right in the middle of church, perched in his pew. So, the call 911, and they're able reassesitate him or whatever- get his heart going, and he comes on back and is alive again. Only, Uncle Bill isn't too happy. Actually, he's pretty pissed off- he's mad that they had the nerve to bring him back and not just let him die and get away from them all!
I don't know, I just thought that was funny. I think he ended up living for like 7 more months before dying a second time- and they knew not to get the heart shockery things.
MAN, my neck hurts like none other...
Producing crap
Can I just say that I am REALLY not wanting to write a talk right now?
Because I really don't want to write a talk right now. And seeing as I still have 12 hours before actually GIVING said talk... HA! TIME TO BLOG!
Oh, the joys of teenage social life.
That speaks for itself.
I am finding that at the current moment, I'm not having any strong opinions. Which is weird, because I usually have some very strong opinion eating at the back of my mind- or, you know, 12- but right now, I don't have very many. Ok, yeah, I do, but not all can be stated in such a public way. (Or nonpublic, depends on who looks).
All I can say is, I'm freaking FRUSTRATED. I've hit a wall with most of my writing. *bangs head on table*
Can I just say that my muses are VERY fickle things? Because I tend to get hit with writers block pretty often. Or it's not even writers block, it's just that whatever I write comes out as CRAP. And how are you supposed to be happy when all you are producing is crap? (if I was a twelve year old boy, I would probably laugh at that statement. Or, you know, a really tired seventeen-year-old girl, coughcough). I mean, seriously.
It's strange just how much it can effect daily life. Today, while I was lying backwards on my bed, staring at my ceiling fan (my usual brainstorming position), I grew quite depressed as my thoughts became more and more repetitive. So, I sat up, broke out Windows2000 crappycomp (yeah! with blue nailpolish spilt on the top, OH YEAH!) and read over some stuff that I've written in the last month or so... and nearly cried. I've rewritten the thing eight different times, with VERY different ideas, criterias, point of views... and it's still crappy. I can't find the right combination of events to make up a good story. So I keep rewriting it, and rewriting it, and rewriting it... and every way it ends up, it just isn't right.
So what do I do? I go back to previously written things. And dislike them. So what do I do? Since I can't come up with anything completely original, I start rewriting things I've already written, turning all of that stuff into even crappier stuff. And now I have like 5 150+ pages works with at least five drafts each, and it's clogging my computer, and my mind, and my soul. I can't FOCUS. It's took much chaos!
I CAN'T HANDLE BEING AN ARTIST!
So I soon found myself at walmart. And then I found myself DRAGGING myself through Walmart. And then I found myself staring at nail polish, on the verge of tears, because I'm so distraught. And then I found myself feeling very foolish for being so upset. And then I came home, looked at first aforementioned piece, then snuggled with my cat and took a nap because I felt so sad.
When you're producing nothing but crap, it's hard to write a talk on being charitable.
Because I really don't want to write a talk right now. And seeing as I still have 12 hours before actually GIVING said talk... HA! TIME TO BLOG!
Oh, the joys of teenage social life.
That speaks for itself.
I am finding that at the current moment, I'm not having any strong opinions. Which is weird, because I usually have some very strong opinion eating at the back of my mind- or, you know, 12- but right now, I don't have very many. Ok, yeah, I do, but not all can be stated in such a public way. (Or nonpublic, depends on who looks).
All I can say is, I'm freaking FRUSTRATED. I've hit a wall with most of my writing. *bangs head on table*
Can I just say that my muses are VERY fickle things? Because I tend to get hit with writers block pretty often. Or it's not even writers block, it's just that whatever I write comes out as CRAP. And how are you supposed to be happy when all you are producing is crap? (if I was a twelve year old boy, I would probably laugh at that statement. Or, you know, a really tired seventeen-year-old girl, coughcough). I mean, seriously.
It's strange just how much it can effect daily life. Today, while I was lying backwards on my bed, staring at my ceiling fan (my usual brainstorming position), I grew quite depressed as my thoughts became more and more repetitive. So, I sat up, broke out Windows2000 crappycomp (yeah! with blue nailpolish spilt on the top, OH YEAH!) and read over some stuff that I've written in the last month or so... and nearly cried. I've rewritten the thing eight different times, with VERY different ideas, criterias, point of views... and it's still crappy. I can't find the right combination of events to make up a good story. So I keep rewriting it, and rewriting it, and rewriting it... and every way it ends up, it just isn't right.
So what do I do? I go back to previously written things. And dislike them. So what do I do? Since I can't come up with anything completely original, I start rewriting things I've already written, turning all of that stuff into even crappier stuff. And now I have like 5 150+ pages works with at least five drafts each, and it's clogging my computer, and my mind, and my soul. I can't FOCUS. It's took much chaos!
I CAN'T HANDLE BEING AN ARTIST!
So I soon found myself at walmart. And then I found myself DRAGGING myself through Walmart. And then I found myself staring at nail polish, on the verge of tears, because I'm so distraught. And then I found myself feeling very foolish for being so upset. And then I came home, looked at first aforementioned piece, then snuggled with my cat and took a nap because I felt so sad.
When you're producing nothing but crap, it's hard to write a talk on being charitable.
2.04.2009
LAUGHTER'S ABYSS
(Creative Writing Assignment: Include the words SYKWARD, MUSIC, AFRAID)
12/12/08
LAUGHTER took wing and floated skyward.
GHT took off in a flutter of razor wings.
The tink and thunk of metal clanking
Of the soaring E are music
As it bumps into R
And they disappear in a brassy flash.
L seems to have meandered off
Without any notice,
And A skips a beat before
Dancing through the sky.
U is left alone,
Afraid of the unknown:
The navy dusk with dots of fire
Flashing so fast
So many miles away,
Afraid only sadness resides there.
He looks up at the infinite abyss above,
The ever darkening canvas before him;
His emotions are thrown farther askew.
U comes to realize that without him,
LAUGHTER would only be LAGHTER.
And yet, he is alone
And frightened
And feeling so lonely.
Isn’t it funny?
U can be so important to a group
As a whole
And still feel so
Alone.
12/12/08
LAUGHTER took wing and floated skyward.
GHT took off in a flutter of razor wings.
The tink and thunk of metal clanking
Of the soaring E are music
As it bumps into R
And they disappear in a brassy flash.
L seems to have meandered off
Without any notice,
And A skips a beat before
Dancing through the sky.
U is left alone,
Afraid of the unknown:
The navy dusk with dots of fire
Flashing so fast
So many miles away,
Afraid only sadness resides there.
He looks up at the infinite abyss above,
The ever darkening canvas before him;
His emotions are thrown farther askew.
U comes to realize that without him,
LAUGHTER would only be LAGHTER.
And yet, he is alone
And frightened
And feeling so lonely.
Isn’t it funny?
U can be so important to a group
As a whole
And still feel so
Alone.
Inside and Out
(Word deck assignment for Mrs. Morelands Creative Writing, 1/28/09)
Ironic, repulsive love,
Only admirable hate.
Haven’t you hear?
Love and hate go hand-in-hand
It twists dreaming hearts,
Turning villains to heroes
And heroes to dust:
Nothing but electricity
In a passing stroke of brilliance.
Drain all exhausting energy
Until we are nothing but fresh ice,
Old blood, new death.
Cure the bitter wolf
Before you’re the innocence caught in it’s path.
How can we
Hate to love and love to hate?
We awake dreaming
And die to live.
Protect your Revolutions:
Screw the box and think whatever.
Ironic, repulsive love,
Only admirable hate.
Haven’t you hear?
Love and hate go hand-in-hand
It twists dreaming hearts,
Turning villains to heroes
And heroes to dust:
Nothing but electricity
In a passing stroke of brilliance.
Drain all exhausting energy
Until we are nothing but fresh ice,
Old blood, new death.
Cure the bitter wolf
Before you’re the innocence caught in it’s path.
How can we
Hate to love and love to hate?
We awake dreaming
And die to live.
Protect your Revolutions:
Screw the box and think whatever.
2.02.2009
The Hollah-Monster has Returned!
Yes, to all of your dismay, I, Holly Empey, have returned to the blogging community.
(Yes, you may run screaming into the night; just make sure to come home for curfew so my conscieous is clear)
Ah, my third sentence in, and I am quickly reminded of the one thing that I pretty much depend on: SPELL CHECK. Dang. You know, I used to be able to spell JUST FINE, back in my underclassmen years (Oh gosh, I feel like an old grandpa, 'back in the day when it was uphill both ways.' Ha, but I'm cooler, daring to refer to like, 2 years ago, seeing as I'm still in highschool. Oh, gee, I should just abort this whole mission right now). But, once I spent my year of... hm.. let's call it independence and self-discovery, because that sounds legit... writing everyday, often for 6 or 7 hours straight (yeah, my parents were a little worried, but what can you do? Tell me I can't write? Fine. I'll brainstorm. You know? Ridiculous.) on my dad's old laptop from the early 90s, I got used to my fingers stumbling over the keys all the time because I'm not a percise person, as most of you know, and relied on the little sqwiggly lines (I favor the green, because they're not so harsh; they seem to be saying 'NO! NO! ERROR! NO! NO, DON'T YOU CONTINE WRITING, YOU IGNORANT FOOL, YOU FREAKING SPELT ANTIDISESTABLISHMENTTOTALITARIANISM WRONG!' -and yes, i did just pull word so I could make sure I spelt that right right now) to recognize all the words I spelt wrong because I write so dang fast because my brain goes too fast for my fingers to type... or my brain to comprehend... hence, we get somewhat (if on the lengthy side, get used to it) entertaining blurbs of writing.
So, what I was trying to say in that last paragraph (honestly, I get so off-topic its not even funny, so I apologize... that was only one small taste): My words will often be spelt wrong, or have extra letters in them. If anyone has ever had the tragic experience of instant-messaging with me, you'll know exactly what I mean. Hopefully it will make a tiny bit sense.
Ok, maybe I'm ADD, but I am getting REALLY annoyed at the 'save now' button that saves every few minutes... which honestly, is a very clever idea, BUT DO THEY REALLY HAVE TO MAKE THE BUTTON FLASH? ARGH... it keeps distracting me. AH! There it went again! But I guess it does remind me of just how much time I am spending such nonsense. As stated above, I've spent many days snuggled up with oldy-laptop and written, no joke, from 4 to 8 hours a day. The outcome? Some pretty good stuff, I suppose. I got some really good plot lines for a few stories (ha, can anyone say therapy?) that still tend to amaze me that III actually thought of it. The writing is still pretty crappy, but that's pretty much how all my stuff is. It's got personality or a good story behind it, but the writing is rather lacking. Oh well, what are you going to do?
Oh no. Dang it. I just remembered that, although I DID get an A in English, which I thought was going to be a B because I pretty much refused to write the essay on Prop8/Prop4, (PLEASE don't ever bring that up with me unless you want Rage Monster of DOOM), I have completely fallen behind on my reading of 1984. EGAD, right? Holly missing English homework? Ha ha, no really. Oh, and Mr. Thompson did say, and I quote, "For those of you who need to catch up, I reccomend that you catch up, not only because you should be up with the class, but Part II is where all the sex in the book is, so it will be more enjoyable to read." Oh course, it was in his Thompson-uncomprehensible-super creeper way, which I don't know should help or hurt the cause, I'm still unsure. Sigh. Winston, why mus you live in such a crappy world? And can't someone update the title, so stupid people stop making comments like "Wait... didn't 1984 already happen? Wait, I'm so confused." (to be read in annoyed cheerleader, superstoned kid, and the one kid that is just chronically dumb voices.)
Alright (i just spelt it akright, if you were wondering.) so, before I go dive back into the world of Big Brother and thoughtcrimes, I've just to say that I honestly cried I was so humorously pleased when I found "Thoughts of a Dying Atheist" by Muse. I mean, COME ON. THAT'S FUNNY. Let me quote:
"and I know the moment's near
and there's nothing you can do
look through a faithless eye
are you afraid to die?
it scares the h(eck) out of me
and the end is all I can see
and it scares the h(eck) out of me
and the end is all I can see"
I mean, seriously. That's funny.
Well, in my little insane world.
(Yes, you may run screaming into the night; just make sure to come home for curfew so my conscieous is clear)
Ah, my third sentence in, and I am quickly reminded of the one thing that I pretty much depend on: SPELL CHECK. Dang. You know, I used to be able to spell JUST FINE, back in my underclassmen years (Oh gosh, I feel like an old grandpa, 'back in the day when it was uphill both ways.' Ha, but I'm cooler, daring to refer to like, 2 years ago, seeing as I'm still in highschool. Oh, gee, I should just abort this whole mission right now). But, once I spent my year of... hm.. let's call it independence and self-discovery, because that sounds legit... writing everyday, often for 6 or 7 hours straight (yeah, my parents were a little worried, but what can you do? Tell me I can't write? Fine. I'll brainstorm. You know? Ridiculous.) on my dad's old laptop from the early 90s, I got used to my fingers stumbling over the keys all the time because I'm not a percise person, as most of you know, and relied on the little sqwiggly lines (I favor the green, because they're not so harsh; they seem to be saying 'NO! NO! ERROR! NO! NO, DON'T YOU CONTINE WRITING, YOU IGNORANT FOOL, YOU FREAKING SPELT ANTIDISESTABLISHMENTTOTALITARIANISM WRONG!' -and yes, i did just pull word so I could make sure I spelt that right right now) to recognize all the words I spelt wrong because I write so dang fast because my brain goes too fast for my fingers to type... or my brain to comprehend... hence, we get somewhat (if on the lengthy side, get used to it) entertaining blurbs of writing.
So, what I was trying to say in that last paragraph (honestly, I get so off-topic its not even funny, so I apologize... that was only one small taste): My words will often be spelt wrong, or have extra letters in them. If anyone has ever had the tragic experience of instant-messaging with me, you'll know exactly what I mean. Hopefully it will make a tiny bit sense.
Ok, maybe I'm ADD, but I am getting REALLY annoyed at the 'save now' button that saves every few minutes... which honestly, is a very clever idea, BUT DO THEY REALLY HAVE TO MAKE THE BUTTON FLASH? ARGH... it keeps distracting me. AH! There it went again! But I guess it does remind me of just how much time I am spending such nonsense. As stated above, I've spent many days snuggled up with oldy-laptop and written, no joke, from 4 to 8 hours a day. The outcome? Some pretty good stuff, I suppose. I got some really good plot lines for a few stories (ha, can anyone say therapy?) that still tend to amaze me that III actually thought of it. The writing is still pretty crappy, but that's pretty much how all my stuff is. It's got personality or a good story behind it, but the writing is rather lacking. Oh well, what are you going to do?
Oh no. Dang it. I just remembered that, although I DID get an A in English, which I thought was going to be a B because I pretty much refused to write the essay on Prop8/Prop4, (PLEASE don't ever bring that up with me unless you want Rage Monster of DOOM), I have completely fallen behind on my reading of 1984. EGAD, right? Holly missing English homework? Ha ha, no really. Oh, and Mr. Thompson did say, and I quote, "For those of you who need to catch up, I reccomend that you catch up, not only because you should be up with the class, but Part II is where all the sex in the book is, so it will be more enjoyable to read." Oh course, it was in his Thompson-uncomprehensible-super creeper way, which I don't know should help or hurt the cause, I'm still unsure. Sigh. Winston, why mus you live in such a crappy world? And can't someone update the title, so stupid people stop making comments like "Wait... didn't 1984 already happen? Wait, I'm so confused." (to be read in annoyed cheerleader, superstoned kid, and the one kid that is just chronically dumb voices.)
Alright (i just spelt it akright, if you were wondering.) so, before I go dive back into the world of Big Brother and thoughtcrimes, I've just to say that I honestly cried I was so humorously pleased when I found "Thoughts of a Dying Atheist" by Muse. I mean, COME ON. THAT'S FUNNY. Let me quote:
"and I know the moment's near
and there's nothing you can do
look through a faithless eye
are you afraid to die?
it scares the h(eck) out of me
and the end is all I can see
and it scares the h(eck) out of me
and the end is all I can see"
I mean, seriously. That's funny.
Well, in my little insane world.
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