In Which I Get To Talk About My Novel

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Spotify playing “If I Could Tell Her”.  Check.

Four scoops of Dutch chocolate ice cream. Check.

An evening of hanging out with the best people in the planet despite having been with them in person for so long a time it’s an injustice. Check.

No writing. Check.

April Camp NaNo is going wonderfully. And I mean that, when you compare it to last year, when  only started seriously writing three days before Camp ended, not too bad! I think. 😀

Just Come Home is on hold for now, which is great, ’cause I get to talk about my new WIP, which you definitely can’t copy or steal because I will find you. And I will exact a heavy revenge.

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Introducing my WIP, under the working title of….

The A’s & B’s of Normal!

*slow claps* *very fake claps*

The A’s And B’s Of Normal
not the final cover so don’t get any ideas

But, uh, what on earth is The A’s & B’s of Normal?

Thus the brief description. (I have a description! An actual description! BEHOLD!)

Synopsis

Ricky Kisame isn’t your normal 13 girl- but she really means that when she says it. She has an attention span the size of a gnat and an unidentified adverse reaction to classrooms and anything remotely resembling four walls enclosed and with no windows. Add that to her perpetual hyper-excited nonstop energy and talkative self, brothers that have their own quirks and not-normal selves, parents who are practical geniuses and believe the best in their kids, her homeschooled brain, and the fact that brain can answer Algebra 2 questions and college level stuff in all the ways nobody expects, and you have the makings of an almost genius.

Oh, did Ricky mention she has ADD? She can’t concentrate if her life depended on it.

But snap, if she isn’t gonna try!

The Story Behind The Story

If you don’t know, April is not only the month of pranks, the first Camp NaNo, and the month of the earth warming and changing from snow to grass in two seconds flat. It’s also Autism Awareness month. (More on this in another post… maybe. :P) At the time this story was created though? I didn’t know that.

I’m hyperactive. That goes for my head and my mind and my tongue and my arms and all of me. Fidgeting in my seat is essential to being able to concentrate, and a million tabs in my brain are open 100% of the time, and at least 75 are blasting music that I can’t shut down. Writing this post took me forever because I literally pushed aside my laptop to walk back and forth a couple dozen times.

And apparently, that isn’t normal.

But that’s okay.

If you know my brother Jacob, you’d know he’s the sweetest, kindest, selfless, quiet guy anywhere, and when he smiles you can’t help but smile too. You’d also know that he doesn’t talk much, is on the timid side, and when other kids his age are off driving and getting jobs and being independent (TM), Jacob’s still trying to figure out freshman year.

But that’s okay.

My other brother may have a little hard time interacting with people, but he can look at a computer and see new things to figure out and break and put together and technical stuff is right up his alley, even if asking someone how their weekend was is a tinge harder.

But that’s okay. 

They have a name for people like us. Neurodivergents. Basically, some people’s brains are different from other people’s brains. It’s a pretty simple (and fancy sounding) definition, huh?

There’s just a slight problem.

And that is that people tend to look at the label and forget the thing labelled is not a thing.

It’s a person. And that person isn’t some case subject thing, another number in the statistic of people who think differently. That person is just another kid with hopes and dreams and ideas and thoughts and God made them. God made everyone equal, but equal never meant the same. Every mind is different. And that’s okay.

And… I mean.. y’know.. people don’t really get that? There’s a TON of stuff on autism and dyslexia and ADD and ADHD, but not very much on the people who have all of these differences.

So in a way, I guess, The A’s & B’s of Normal is an attempt to say one thing:

God made you special, and He loves you just the way you are.

Trust me to ramble on for 50k or less on just one thing. 😉 Say hi to Ricky, you guys!

Ricky's Mood board

Ricky, Ricky, Ricky. She is crazy. And that’s probably why I love her so.

It’s been a ton of fun to get into Ricky’s head and writing out her thoughts. She’s a riot in the funniest ways possible, and I hope I do her justice. 🙂  Along with this crazy are Lute, Natey, and Jose Kisame, and the 4 of them wreck havoc in their world.

Well, Ricky does plenty of that on her own, but the guys help some.

Right now she’s stumped, as you would be, at a rather long test. I got some work to do.

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Will this be a flop? Probably? Will I mess up a lot? Guaranteed. But is it worth the research and time spent to learn even more about this so called “disorders” and what they really are?

I think so.

Is it worth getting into someone’s severely disorganized head and writing my own off? To get into a dozen different characters and settings I will never get to step foot in?

Yes.

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This Is The Moment You’ve Waited For (April’s HEREEEEEEEEEE!)

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Mm, I made two references to two pretty great musicals. 😀 Y’all should be proud a me. But guess what guys? It’s a new month- and it’s a new camp NaNoWriMo *cheers lustily* And I should also mention that pranks are present, roll your eyes and deal with it. (Like I don’t have one myself, eheh.) Quicky recap because those are fun, and we’ll get on with this. XD

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March was hard. Goodbye March. But some of the greatest stuff happened that I’m grateful for.

-My family saw Captain Marvel. Admittedly, it wasn’t the greatest- but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a great movie! Really enjoyed it. 😀

-I wrote for my life even though it wasn’t NaNo, just to see if I could. 15k in 3 days!! 😀 That’s a record. I’m sure at least a quarter is junk, but I did it. I actually genuinely did it.

-I’ll be honest, a ton happened that I wish didn’t. A lot of times I just wanted to curl up into a ball and hop into the Pacific Ocean and drown away. Thank you to the friends who convinced me otherwise. (And for the memes. You know who you are. :P)

-us Audiosmithers released one of my favorite dramas. ❤

-I discovered Newsies (I think this one is obvious, you guys.)

-And Hamilton (that’s another post in itself)

-and the sweetest movie that ever was

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my first reaction

-Spring came before Winter crashed right back onto the scene so that was rather nice

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-Crushed Algebra (and in return, got crushed myself)

-late nights became my best friends

-as were snickers bites

-I may or may not have done something to my blog. I think I should fix it, but ah.

-Arya Stark is surprisingly like one of my characters, and now I’m having an existential crisis trying to figure out if GoT stole from me, or I stole from GoT O_O

-ended up with some rather interesting scenes and plotted for my new novel at church. On notebook paper. In smudged writing. For about 25 minutes. 🙂

March, you marched on. Good for you.

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Favorite Song

Ben Rector is a master of using common words to write priceless gems, and Brand New was probably one of his bests. (They’re all good though. XD) Up there with this is Winners Don’t Quit by Owl City, and Little Things by Maddie Poppe. 🙂

Favorite Book

Love to EveryoneAlso known as Love To Everyone, this book hit me right in the feels as I was reading it. Clarry is such a well written character, and the setting- the setting is just so real. And it’s sad. And heartbreaking. And just- ahh what do you say about a book that’s so good you can’t just say it?? *dies*

 

 

 

 

 

 

Favorite Quote

 

I WILL BREAK OUT INTO NEWSIES SONGS! BE PREPARED!

This.

Rend Collective - “Counting every blessing”

And this.

Listen to the song "Joy" by Rend Collective. Fits this quite perfectly

And most importantly this.

So all that to say,

LET’S GO, APRIL. 

Oh. That prank.

It’s actually not a prank.

It’s a parody. A NaNoWriMo parody.

Enjoy!

(yes, it’s cringey and bad and my voice sounds terrible but I had a ton of fun pretending to be a Broadway singer and altering the lyrics so please laugh as much as you want and I hope you enjoy 😀 )

 

 

A Bit Of Flash Fiction- 1, 2, 3, 4.

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Before I begin, who wants to have a victory cry because Spiderman: Into The Spiderverse won best animated film? Anyone? *cheers* YES YES YES. you have no idea how happy I am about this. YES. YES. HUZZAH!

Also, I had a post ready. I was gonna have this great, important topic and it would be weighty and important but then I ended up writing a short short short story and decided it was good enough to be published onto here. *facesmacks*

I would have you know- it’s completely fiction. That means everything is made up.

I would also have you know that is based on something real.

Have at it!

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1, 2, 3, 4. Thud. Thud. Thud. “Sit here!” they order, waving their hand about with all the force of their position. My head pounds. No. No. No. No. I don’t want to- 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 5, 6, 7, 8. The walls seem to close in on me- I need to get out- I need to get out!

“Come on!” they yell. Their eyes are demanding and expectant. My heart beats faster, my throat feels tight, the world is blurry. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3- No, no, that’s wrong. 1, 2, 3, 4, 12, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3-

“Come on!” I clutch back a shriek and shuffle to the lone chair. It’s against the wall. There’s a table in front of it. “Sit,” they demand, snatching my device to look through it for themselves. I feel robbed. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4- the numbers are supposed to help my heart calm down. It’s still beating heavily, it still hurts, it’s being squeezed. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here, I’m so nervous, I can’t sit long. I want to run, I need to run, I have to run!

My feet don’t curl up like they normally do- they stiffen and flatten against the rough carpet. I can run faster than anyone here, must go, must go, must go. I don’t want to be here- I have to go!  A screen, a pen, I can’t think, I can’t speak, they don’t like me, they only want me to listen and obey, not to feel. I want to run- help, help, help! 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. “Listen and understand.” They pull out a Bible as they talk. My heart sinks. Oh no, oh no, now I have to stay whether I like it or not, please- the walls feel even more enclosing- I’m trapped! Trapped in a jail that’s built to free people. But I’m not free to begin with. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. Can- want- can I go? My leg starts to bounce in my chair, and I stand up.

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” What, you’re not listening?” They jeer. “Sit down and listen!” No, no. I can’t sit back down- I need to go, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4,. “Answer the question, come on, why aren’t you answering- do you even understand the question?” 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2. I can’t talk, I can’t talk, I don’t want to talk, my heart races, my chest feels tight. I want to run, I’m gonna shriek, I can’t- I can’t be here! I can’t sit! Please, please, I didn’t know not talking was a sin. I want to go- no, no, I’m not fine, I won’t talk, please don’t make me, please. the accusations hurt and the words- hurt- and I want to go, please, no, no, no, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4,.

“Say something.” Oh no, no, no, you’ll make fun of me, you’ll mock me, you’ll laugh at me, please, no, no! I duck my head and say nothing. They keep talking, they ignore me. my foot taps against the ground- I need to go, I need to go. Maybe they have some food here, maybe- 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3- “Come on! Answer! Answer! Answer!” The words seem to echo over and over and over and over and over in my head. Here, they have some cheese, I like cheese, it’s firm and yellow and it’s 2. 2 means it’s good. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4.

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It’s nice. I like cheese. “Answer- and you are a Bible student, really?” they say. The words swarm my head Oh, no, I can’t, I can’t. I take a bite of the cheese. I say nothing. I want to run, I want to run- I don’t belong, everyone knows that I don’t belong, I can’t sit down-

I finished the cheese. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. “Get into the conversation, why don’t you?” Why don’t I? Because just like that I was asked and I answered and they were mean and very mad, they are scary scary, and they wield a Bible, which makes them scarier in my opinion- no. I’m not allowed to talk, no, no, no, no, I’m not, they always say I’m wrong. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4,  1, 2, 3, 4. I want to run, to shriek, dear kind sweet Lord please, I just want to be understood- please no.

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“Come on.” No, no, I can’t just come on, it’s not easy like that, it’s hard just to breathe and you won’t– no, please, no, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. I stand up. I walk around and stretch. They don’t like this, they give me dirty looks, I know. they told me I should sit down properly and pay attention but I can’t do either and most definitely not in that particular order, no, please, please! 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4.

“So what can we take from this?” they say. I want to take away. I want to take myself away and never come back. They don’t like me, they just look at me wrong-

I see a widow is open, the windowsill lined with snow. It’s such a long way down.

But the window is open.

“Are you alright?” They do not ask, but someone does.

“I’m fine.” 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4.

1, 2, 3-

life is a highway, Jo

 

 

P.S. That mighta been sad.

Mighta not.

Either way, sorry.

 

 

 

 

Even The Sky Cries

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She couldn’t stop herself, and truth be told, she was glad for it. Even if they looked at the one tear rolling down her cheek with disdain. “You can cry all you want, but it doesn’t really matter,” they said.

Her eyes narrowed, and the light from above glinted  like fire. “One tear is all I want? really? You underestimate me. I don’t cry. ” she replied, her voice both steely and breaking.

Even if she wanted to. Even if she felt her heart being stabbed over and over by a mindless sword that didn’t care if it was beating and feeling still. 

Well. It would feel no more. 

Excuse her for breathing. 

Storytime: Once upon a time, a long long time ago, my siblings and I watched this movie called Song of The Sea.

See the source imageThis amazing beautiful sweet story, which I’d love to talk about another time, is about a great many things. But in it, the MC meets an old owl (the bad guy) who takes away emotions so that they don’t feel. Consequently turning the people whose emotions are suddenly drained, into rocks.

Bad right? But it turns out the bird’s just trying to help. See, her son lost a lover (or something like that, don’t ask me) and he cried so much he filled an ocean with his tears. (Again, don’t ask me, it’s animation, anything’s possible.) So to relieve his pain, his mom, who happens to be the weird owl, took away his ability to feel. She offers that same choice to the MC, saying that feelings are baggage and they hurt and stuff like that. But the obvious problem is that when you don’t feel, you become hard and well, very similar to a rock. Dead. Cold. Unfeeling. You know the type.

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Next case in point:

If you’ve ever watched Inside Out, and seen those very confusing little animated emotions try to manage their human, there’s always one who’s trying to manage everyone else, isn’t there? And that would be.. Joy.

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This bean. 

 

She’s kinda a lot like the owl from the first movie, except instead of locking up all emotions and bottling it away, Joy (the sweet naïve personified emotion) tries to make sure her human only feels happiness. All of her coworkers agree- except maybe Sadness. Because she’s too busy being sad. And in Joy’s little head, NOBODY needs Sadness. Sadness is a burden, the emotion you need to push away. Right?

Mm…no. Just no.

I know Song Of The Sea and Inside Out are only movies, but the thing is they kinda have a point. The same point this post has (*gasp* it actually does!): Happiness is not the only emotion you have to feel, and you can’t just bottle up your emotions, neither.

You need to let yourself feel Sadness sometimes. Or Fear. Or Anger. And hey, this isn’t just movie characters- (going preachy, sorry about that) a ton of people from the Bible are recorded to have more emotions that just happiness.

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Read the Psalms. Some of David’s writings are brimming with sadness and pain and guilt.

Elijah had to run for his life from Jezebel and wanted to die on a number of occasions.

Paul mentions the Corinthians being in sorrow because of what he said.

Jesus was so mad at the priests turning the temple into a marketplace, He overthrew the tables.

Also, Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb.

Want me to say it again?

The Son of Man, the Son of God, the Savior of the world, the KING, wept at the tomb of his friend.

Wept.

Down with that “big boys don’t cry” now, okay? It’s wrong and not true. Thanky ‘ou.

Why did Jesus cry? Weep? Even though he knew that he would raise Lazarus from the grave? I don’t really know. And if anyone does know, please tell me. XD My point is, Jesus Himself felt sadness.

Which is weird, considering Paul (at least I think it was, those NT writers sometimes sound similar) told us, “Rejoice, and again I say rejoice!”

How can you have joy when you feel sadness?

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Maybe…  because joy does not equal happiness.

People have written books about it, and songs and plays and have spent their whole lives trying to find it, but the actual working definition seems to be elusive. Sometimes you can find joy even in the hardest circumstances. Sometimes it’s easy to find it. Sometimes you can’t be brought down because you have it, and sometimes the world comes crashing down and you can still have it.

Joy comes from the only true and lasting source: God. Everything else fades eventually. And God isn’t just there for your joy, He comforts in sorrow and in grief, He forgives you and helps your guilt, it’s not like once you’re a Christian you’ll be a hundred percent happy. Just that whatever you’re going through, you can draw your strength from Him. 🙂

I could be wrong (well, not about where joy comes from). Don’t ask me for advice on anything, and don’t take whatever you read here as truth. But that’s what it seems to be like. And I’d know.

See, I’m one of those rock people. Many times I’ve wished that I couldn’t feel, it hurt too much and I didn’t like it. I forced myself to be dead to anything remotely sad, just because I couldn’t handle it.

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Still kinda struggling with it, to be honest. By the time my wish came true, I’d already had a thick shell I didn’t want anyone to touch. A tough face. A comeback for every insult.

Yeah, don’t try that.. it’s just… kinda..don’t.

What I eventually learned? Those walls only keep you in. Sadness hurts. And sometimes letting it out can help. If you keep it in, it’ll fester.. kinda like a nasty blister. It hurts to feel. But it hurts more to not feel. Even if it’s only joy you’re trying to feel.

Why did I take almost a thousands words to say this, I don’t know. But I guess what I’m trying to say is: It’s okay to cry. No, you shouldn’t be driven by your emotions and have a sobbing party every other Wednesday afterevening because someone hurt your feelings, but you can’t go to the other extreme and bottle all those feelings up and toss ’em away.  Reach out to someone who might really need a friend. Let your heart beat again. Let go of the idea that you’re not strong if you cry. It takes great strength for a person to share their feelings. Even Jesus cried.

Even the sky cries.

life is a highway, Jo

 

 

I Call Myself A Writer

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Today, or at least this month, marks an entire year I started to write seriously.

One year of looking at screens and seeing my story come to life.

One year of playlists.

One year of bacon crumbles.

One full year since Gale Darn became Gale Darn.

One year of hopelessly wanting to meet characters.

One year. 75k worth of words total.

In all honesty, it all started way before last year.

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I think I first got into writing by peeking over my sister’s shoulder. I dunno if I was five or six, but I do remember hearing the worst shriek ever heard in real life, and that I was promptly booted out and placed in the hall for an indefinite period of time.

It mighta been an hour later, but eventually I got invited back in and was allowed to take a sneak peak at my sister’s WIP.

If you’re reading this, Ate, thank you for putting up with me. It means a lot. 🙂

Like a lot a lot. ❤

Anyway, that was my first introduction to the wonderful world of writing: characters, theme, bad guys who were really just overgrown kids, laughing over dialogue, it was awesome. And now that I look back, I’m surprised my sister even let me know her WIP existed. Huh. I mean, I wouldn’t have told my five year old self I had a WIP. But anyway, the whole idea fascinated me for a couple weeks.

Aaaand I forgot about it.

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Fast forward a few years later, and I was 7, puzzling over my first poem. Which was a terrible epic about a Loyalist in the Revolution whose greatest secret was a wig. Yes, no kidding.

My first plot bunny was a crazy tale of a girl who was forced out of her home and roamed the streets of 1950 New York. Again, no kidding. 😛 That particular story begins with a flashback. How entirely original.

All that to say, stories have been in me for a while. I guess now I just decided not to bottle it up anymore.

Or rather, a year ago.

How was it a year?

I’m gonna be honest (which I try to be, for the most part, sometimes painfully so) sometimes I look back and groan. I’ve been writing for a year and I haven’t finished a single draft? I haven’t edited a single complete book? I didn’t even submit any of my stories to anything?

I thought I was a writer.

And while some of that doubt is thanks to nosy people that are also known as family and friends, a good deal of that is thanks to myself.

Publishing would mean the world to me.

And I’m nowhere near that.

Maybe I’m not cut out for this kinda thing. Maybe I should stick to my comfortable old self, the one that daydreamed her stories instead of writing so others could see them too. Maybe I should just let it go. Leave the doc open, but never read through it.

Because if I’m a writer, why on earth am I not writing anything worth writing?

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Thing is… publishing is not why I started writing.

Writing is why I started writing. XD I write because I love to write, because I love putting words on paper.. on or a screen. Whichever I get my hands on first. 😛

So I think I’m done mentally beating myself up over not being a published author of a great series of novels yet. I’ve only been writing for like a year and 6 more years. XD Writing shouldn’t feel like a chore, but something fun, new, something completely the opposite of school. Unless you like school. Then it’s very similar.

But yeah. Here’s to one year, and hopefully more coherent posts to come. 😀

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*coughcough* um, at the same time, I’ve been working on a project that’s been under wraps for a while. 🙂

Life is a highway,

Jo

 

 

Letters Arranged Into Words Arranged Into Sentences Arranged Into Lines

 

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Or in other words, a post of poems. XD Hope you enjoy this drabble of words!

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Ice Cream

Too sweet

Tastes like summer and winter and spring all in one

Too cold

A heap of freshly fallen snow

Too soon

It gets smaller and smaller until

All gone

A cone to remember

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The Night I Was Gone

Gone, gone, gone, that’s what I was

Grab a bag and don’t look back

Just gone, gone, gone

Stuff’s in the truck

Truck’s filled up

Gone, gone, gone

By midnight

I’ve crossed state lines

The gas stations

Are little lights

Gone, gone, gone

Darkness was an old friend

I’d come back to visit

I could never leave for long

Gone, gone, gone

My phone’s dead

The radio’s playing

A song and I’m

Gone, gone, gone

Then the red light

My alarm rings

And gone is the night I was gone,

Gone, gone.

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Blue Eyes

We both knew you liked her

But never a word you said

You seemed to sink into her

Blue eyes

And everything left your head

That explains your face

hitting the door

of our Algebra 2 class

 

At lunch we sat together

Cause you were scared to go up

And tell her hi

You were okay

With catching her

Blue eyes

and smiling back

And I groaned behind my tea with ice

“stop being scared and just do it”

I told you every time

 

Like the good friend you are

You ignored me

Because blue and brown don’t match, you said

It was that way until at last, we graduated

And you looked into her

Blue eyes

For the last time

At least until

You somehow applied for the same job

And both got it

Don’t ask me how that happened

 

And now that this thing is over

I can finally crumple this poem

And say to all these people

who are laughing at your red face

And gazing at her

Blue eyes

None as much as you, duh

I crinkle my stone blind eyes

Feel for the microphone

“My ship has sailed at last.”

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Papers

I saw them

on the kitchen table

your coffee was there too

cold

black

boring

16 year olds shouldn’t drink coffee

 

But you wouldn’t listen

Because Mrs. Secil expected

Nothing but the best from you

at 8 am tomorrow

It’s 11 pm now

So you groaned from your rickety chair

picked up your pen

cold

black

boring

hunched over the kitchen table

I saw them

papers

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Another 

Another family

Another finally

Another forever

They were nice

They were kind

Just like the ones before them

She gripped her suitcase

And sighed

And smiled

She wouldn’t stay very long

It was just another another

 

But they were there

When the mares of the night

Came to steal her away

On another night

She held her screams

Shut her eyes

And faced it all alone

Until two pairs of arms

Wrapped around hers

And stayed

They were the first

Just like the first smile

The first laugh

The first cry

 

She didn’t know how

She didn’t know why

It took time

For her to see

First family

First finally

First forever

Not just another another

But she saw

Gripped her suitcase

And sighed

And smiled

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I really need to get back into writing real stuff soon.

Life is a highway,

Jo

 

Scribble Scrabble: BIBPC Cat. 5, Slgiht Life Update, And Drabble

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Hello there, I’m tired. Who on earth are you?

Well, whoever you may be, thanks for coming over here. This won’t take too much of your time.

So for the fifth category of BIBPC, which has the ridiculously tricky category “disguise”, here’s my lame attempt and showing that in a picture.

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It’s terrible. But I can explain. When I was trying to figure out this prompt, I remembered the one time me and my brother switched DVDs to trick our brother into thinking he was watching Cars when in reality he was getting The Avengers or something. Which I thought was funny. And thus translated onto this picture. Antman and the Wasp is disguised as Pete’s Dragon. Sneaky. And seeing that the deadline for Cat. 5 is today, I didn’t really have a choice. XD I’ve been busy!

Thanks for reading. See you for the next drive.

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-Okay, if you scrolled this far, thanks for sticking with me. Because I shall now unload tragic backstory (TM) update on your poor brains. XD

This first week of January has been tough but good. School’s.. school. Slowly conquering that. Can’t complain.

I’ve gotten to read all the way to Luke in my Bible reading, and I’m really happy about that. Who knows, maybe I’ll read the whole New Testament before the summer! 😀

Look at that. The Piano Guys’ version of Rewrite the Stars came on and I’m energized now. The power of music.

Anyway. So a few days ago we got to watch Antman and the Wasp, and– I’m not sure if you’re into movie time with your family, but I am. It was so hilarious and good- actually it would be good if there was no swearing. Just saying. Anyway, it was hilarious, and the concept and the plot and the characters- my dad and I are now part of the “Give Luis his own movie” movement. The man is so great. I will probably love Scott Lang because he’s not an Enhanced. He messes up. He’s normal. He’s a dad. What makes him a hero is he wants to help. So yeah, I got character research done.

I haven’t touched Just Come Home in ever.

Yeah, I’m terrible.

But I HAVE been doing research for it- so if any of you guys are farm people, or live in small towns, or have family in the army CALL ME- I just found out my mom’s best friend lives off base during deployment, so I’m pretty excited to ask her some questions.

Weird, I know. But.. I want to be as authentic as possible. And I really wanna honor the people who live in small towns, on farms, and with family in the army/navy/marines/country’s defenses. So yeah. XD

I’ve been turning some of my poems into songs, and trying to get used to my voice. For those of you who’ve heard my covers on Welcome To Odyssey, you know it’s kinda on the squeaky side. But here’s hoping I can work on that- and that I don’t like… despise things about myself I can’t change. I have a habit of really really hating stuff about myself, and it’s gotta stop. Except I can still hate my sin nature and my temper and my doubts and anger because those parts of me are bad. Sinful. And since I’m trying to live for God, they have to go. Boo. Shoo. Byeee.

But I mean like hating my voice, or that I’m awkward, or that I get really passionate about my interests. That kinda of stuff. That I’m too skinny or too inadept at volleyball, or that I’m not the best writer or I’m not perfect. There we go. I’m trying to stop hating that I’m not perfect. 😀

I’ve done a post about this before, but basically, God made me, “imperfections” and weird quirks and all. Who am I to say to hate that? To hate what God’s made and is making into something better? Does that even make sense? XD So I’ll laugh at myself singing originals to my camera and do it because I love singing.

Wow. I took 2 long paragraphs to say that? -_- Eh. I rant. What can I say?

Oh- happy almost Friday! 😀

-Jo 🙂

 

 

 

A Narrative

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There are too many assignments to finish. Wayy too much. *groans* Come winter break and save me!

Ahem. Anyway, one of the assignments is to write a narrative about a frightening experience from life… and publish it.

O_O

By BJU definition, apparently, “publish” is to put it out so people can read it. not just show it to your teach- mom after you’re done.

D’oh!

This wouldn’t be one of the first “school” assignments to pop up here, and it won’t be the last, lemme tell ya. I gotta write a newspaper article- or at least a good mock copy. *facepalms* So. uh. Here goes nothing.

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It was my uncle’s church’s camping trip, and my family decided to take all five of us kids, a giant tent, and drive over to Ajax, I think it was. I’d thought it was the coolest thing ever. Being a city kid didn’t give one enough safety or space to explore, so camping was as rare as hot dogs on a Monday night. We’d eagerly set up the tent, jumped on the airbed til the air leaked out, and changed into our swimsuits when Dad told us about the camp pool.

I can still remember what it looked like, though my memory needs to be jump started with old pictures to properly see the place. The cabin had a nice, oak scent to its lacquered wooden walls, but the pool had a different scent of its own. It smelled nice and clean and.. inviting. The water most certainly was, with the light from the wide glass windows glinting off the shimmery water. My sister and brothers jumped into the water without a second thought, while I stayed right at the edge, the water lapping my feet.

See, I didn’t know how to swim.

To a five year old such as myself, however, it was exciting enough to lightly hop into the clear blue water and paddle. But for my dad, well, he was pretty sure I could do more than wave my arms while my feet were securely entwined around the railing.

“How ‘bout you swim over to me?” Dad called from where he was. To my tiny one foot tall self, it seemed he was a gazillion miles away, when in reality it was probably one stroke. Talk about pathetic.

“Um, no thanks!” I chirped from where I was, much preferring to float inside my little safety vest. Just then my sister and oldest brother swooped past me, engaged in some kind of race. I suddenly wanted to join them, and let my feet go from the railing, my hands paddling to the middle of the pool.

And then I dropped.

It was fast, sudden, dark . I somehow plunged down into the deep darkness below. Well, it wouldn’t have been so dark if I’d trusted my goggles and opened my eyes. But no, I didn’t. The water surrounded me as I sank deeper and deeper, my ears only hearing things muffled and my heart pounding.

It was just a game at first, and I could play it. I shut my eyes and held my breath as I headed deeper and deeper into the pool. I thought it was exciting, fun, that I could propel myself up like in the stories and break into the surface, that until then I could blow bubbles out like Captain Hook. But then it got scarier. I couldn’t hear Dad, or Joseph or Jacob, I was running out of air to blow bubbles, and no matter how hard I flapped my arms, I couldn’t get out of the that horrible, horrible dark water. The water engulfed me, just like the paralyzing fear that I was gonna drown. And I couldn’t scream. That was the worst part. Besides from the fact I couldn’t breathe.

Quickly, suddenly, someone, something plunged into the water and pulled me out, and everything reversed. I could see light again- light! And I could breathe, and feel air. And scream my head off as I clung to my sister’s shoulders.

“I want to go home! I want to go home!” I cried as Dad wrapped me up in a little towel and sat me on the side, far away from the water.

I was never gonna do that again. Ever.

Then my sister and all three brothers offered to carry me on their backs like baby otters do with their mothers.

I jumped back in, laughing like my near-death experience never happened.

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If you’re reading this, you just read like 500 words of drek! Congratulations! As a reward you get the link to the 4th carol and me leaving you alone until tomorrow. 🙂 A lovely day to ya!