Almost A Writer

Actual writing? o.0

2011-10-14T22:01:00.000-07:00

SO HEY GUYS. I don't know how many people read this regularly, but I'm so sorry it's been so long since I've posted. Life's been a bit crazy... however through all the insanity I managed to get some writing done. Go figure. Tell me what you think!

The moon rose full, presiding over clean-cut lawns, and cookie cutter houses. In a town like this, nobody would be out at the ungodly hour of 3 in the morning. The lights were out in every window, making the only form of light the old fashioned streetlights that peppered otherwise empty streets. As the citizens of this suburban town slept, nobody would notice a lone girl, sliding silently out of the back door of one of these houses. Nobody would hear the muted footfalls as she strode across her lawn, nobody would hear the thunk of tennis shoes hitting concrete as she began to jog along the abandoned streets. While most people would have been uncomfortable in the pressing silence, while most would have fled away from the emptiness into the safety of their own homes, this girl smiled. She was exactly where she wanted to be, and didn’t mind jogging along these empty streets. In fact, this silence was preferable to the meaningless chatter that filled up everyday life.

As the girls feet began to pound in rhythm, she reached into her pocket to adjust the volume on her iPod, and began to hum along, letting her muscles begin to relax into the familiar sensation. She pulled her backpack, consisting only of a few days’ worth of clothes, a cell phone, and the money that she had spent the past year saving, higher up over her shoulders, feeling the adrenaline flood her system. This is what she had waited for. Her entire life, up until now she had always dreamed of, and thus ran towards, escape. Escape from her ordinary life. Escape from her paralyzing shyness. Escape from the things that she’d rather not deal with. It’s why she ran. It’s why she always ran. She ran from secrets that were better left unsaid, and she ran from the home that had always enclosed her, never giving her a breath of fresh air.

Breathing in the air around her, the girl picked up her speed, running faster, harder, running towards dreams. Towards freedom. Running from herself. She pulled her hood over her head, shielding herself from the breeze that was just a bit too cold, and ran until the streets were empty once more. As the entire town slept, nobody would care to notice six teenagers went missing. Nobody would notice the clothes taken from the closets, or the shoes that were suddenly gone. No, a town like this would never notice until the next day. But by that point it would be too late. They would be long gone.

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The woods were alive, unlike the houses they overlooked. The air was rife with bugs, with the occasional swoop of an owl or bat disrupting their persistent drone. Creatures darted across the beaten path, making a sort of animal highway that we humans were never privileged enough to witness during the day. Amidst this bustle of night life, pierced the unmistakable sound of fingernails tapping against metal, the occasional whisper piercing through the otherwise empty night.

tap.taptap.taptaptap. where the hell are they? taptap. they should be here by now. taptaptap.tap.taptap. I told them to meet me here. why aren’t they here? tap.taptaptaptaptap. It’s five past three. I told them to meet me at three. not five past three. taptap.tap.

Of course, with the entire neighborhood asleep, this random tapping would go unnoticed, and thus the boys anger was to no avail. There was nobody there to hear him. Nobody in the sleeping houses would dare to imagine that there could be a nervous looking boy sitting alone on the front of his car, tapping his fingers against the cool metal. Yet, here he was, a boy that looked too nervous, too excited, to be sitting alone. What he needed someone to relish in the excitement and adrenaline that comes from something so forbidden. So it makes sense that he kept turning his head from side to side as if he was looking for something. Someone. He ran his hand through his hair, which was already sticking up in every which way, and glanced, at his watch. For the fifth time. The LED lights read 3:06, which seemed to make the boy even more agitated. He got up now, and began to pace back and forth across the path, the animals darting around this new obstacle that they rarely had to face.

Occasionally he would look up, and then, shaking his head, he would continue to pace even faster, as if he had so much nervous energy, he could hardly stand still for a second.
you guys realize I’m doing this for you, right? the boy hissed, so intent on the passing of every minute that he barley even cared that his only company were unable to understand him, that, in a sense, he was only talking for his personal benefit alone. He glanced down as his watch again… 3:08. Releasing a sigh of frustration, the boy walked over to the nearest tree, leaning his head against the prickly trunk that began to leave an indent in his forehead, and took a deep breath in some sort of attempt to relax. Letting his mind spin out of control was hardly beneficial to the situation right now, the only thing that the boy could do is wait for them to arrive. So, he did what he always did to collect his thoughts, let his mind wander until it came to where it always did. Izzy.

Just the thought of her name calmed him, and as he began to think more of her, his original irritation began to be replaced with a kind of fanciful longing. He began to think of the sarcastic smile she would give him, her eyebrows raised as if to say, “Really? It’s cute that you think that I you’re right.” He began to think of the way she would twirl her hair around her finger when she was deep in thought, unconsciously biting her lip, her eyes starting off into places existing only within the confines of her mind. And of course, that smile that seemed to light up her entire face, her eyes seeming to dance with emotion, when she would see him in the hallway, or when he would tell a story so humorous that she would tip her head back and laugh, causing him to laugh as well from sheer joy. The look that he hoped that she reserved only for him, but that he realistically knew she didn’t.

This is just the intro, and I'm already aware of my incredibly amateur writing style, but I figured I'd put it out there. Tell me what you think, and if I should continue with this idea that I've begun!

The Help

2011-08-24T10:42:00.000-07:00

So I went 9 days without posting anything. That SHOULDN'T be happening, and won't usually happen! I happened to have "summer homework" which I of course waited until the absolute last minute to do. So things have been a bit busy. That, and I've kind of lacked the passion for really writing anything.
Then, I went and saw The Help a few with my mother and grandmother. Now, I had read the book a year ago, and I absolutely loved it. But the movie... well the movie was spectacular. One of those rare cases where the book was as good as the movie. And even better, it was one of those movies that really got me thinking. And obviously I haven't been the only one, judging by the continuous conversation and debate that have arisen from it.
Basically, as the movie progressed, I couldn't help but wonder how we, as a human race, could have been uneducated enough to judge any person based on what color the skin was. I mean, really. It's ridiculous to think about. It's almost like saying "Oh you have blonde hair. You must be a dithering moron." Overall, appearance isn't what makes a person. It's a person's mind, that makes their personality. And to think otherwise was truly a failure on human-kind's part.
I think that the reason I truly enjoyed The Help so much, is that is dealt with issues that we'd rather turn our heads at. We'd rather just forget that it ever happened, and pretend that it's all fixed now. Which it isn't. But more on that later. That, and I feel as it depicted the real lives of the characters in the time period. One of the criticisms I've heard about it was that it didn't depict enough of the pain that the African Americans really went through. However I disagree completely. The movie depicted the pain that they were going through in such a way that I could hear the tears of various people in the theater. And yet, there was humor. It wasn't ALL suffering. And to me, that's what made the movie feel real. Anybody in such a horrible situation is going to look for something, anything, to be happy about. They'd need to laugh at SOMETHING or otherwise run the risk of going completely insane with pain and sadness. So I feel that the movie felt realistic in that sense as well.
The characters in both the book and movie were likable as well. Skeeter especially, was a character that I could sympathize with. Someone who had the courage to notice that "hey.... this is completely unfair... this isn't how things should be." That, and the maids depicted in the story were so... human. Not only that, but they were brave enough to stand up for what they believed in, something that we as people already admire. Though there's SO much more I could say on the topic of the plot, and the characters, and how they were able to handle the horrible tribulations that they were faced with... but that would spoil the book, as well as the movie! So go read it/watch it! And if you've read it already, or seen the movie, then COMMENT! I'd love to continue to discuss this with others.
As we were walking out, I could hear people murmuring "Well thank goodness it's not like that anymore!" or other variations. And thank goodness it isn't. Thankfully human-kind has realized the major error in their ways... to an extent. Because, YES, racism still exists all over the country, though not on quite such a hideous level. For some reason, humans have huge amounts of trouble accepting anything even the slightest bit different from us, and though we've made monumental steps in the right direction, we're still not completely there yet. That uneasiness of people of another race or culture still exists, causing tensions that shouldn't be necessary. It seems like it would be easier to just ACCEPT people. Get to know them on a personal level, and then begin to decide how you feel about them, based on their personalities. Seeing this side of our culture is worrisome, however seeing us move in the right direction makes me hopeful that one day, we will no longer be as judgmental towards others.

In other news, I'm going to try and do at least one or two blog posts a week, some of them serious (like this one) and some of them not so serious. I'll also try to do book reviews fairly often. Comment on what you want to see me talk about, or what books you want me to review! I'm open to pretty much anything!

Why I'm here

2011-08-15T19:11:00.000-07:00

I'm not a writer. I enjoy writing, but I'm not a writer. Hence the blog name, "Almost A Writer". To me, a writer is someone who actually, I don't know, WRITES. Unfortunately, I seem to have a permanent case of writers block... making writing a bit of a challenge. That's kind of why I made this blog... to write. To get my opinions out to anyone who cares to hear them. I promise that I'm typically much more interesting than this, I figured I needed an introductory post, to just kind of explain what I was doing here. Basically what the point of all of this is.
Enjoy!