Newspaper Article

I didn't actually do the assignment from yesterday as I wasn't here yesterday, so I'll type something up inspired by our city's gas prices. Also, since the computer I'm working at today doesn't work properly, this blog post won't turn out so well in terms of format, or show up on time.

Up and down they flow, like the tides of the ocean.

They rise rapidly, as though the very ground beneath them is being forced up.

Then, they flow away as low as the risen ground will allow.

Ever sparking higher in the night, faster and higher than a falcon taking flight.

Falling slower and slower, the lowest point to be reached no more.

Writers as Readers

"What genres interest you? What specifically about this genre interests you?

Why are you drawn to them?"

I really enjoy fantasy and horror stories. There's just something about them that always entertains me. For horror, I'd have to say that it's the feeling of helplessness that the characters feel throughout the story. As for fantasy, it has to be the fact that the world is more fantastic than anything this world we live in now can hope to offer. I'm drawn to them mainly because they're just fun to read.

"Have you ever picked up a book and been excited to turn the next page, then the next, then the next? What book? Why couldn't you stop reading? Is there a book you had to just trudge through to finish?"

Actually, yes. On both accounts. I've enjoyed reading certain books, and I've hated others. For instance, a good example of a book I just couldn't not finish reading was Bram Stoker's Dracula. Absolutely fascinating. On the other hand, a book I dreaded having to read each day was a class assigned book: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Good grief, I couldn't even read it all the way through! At one point, I just proclaimed "F the police!" and threw the book at a wall.

"What was the first book you remember reading?

Why doe this book stand out in your memory?"

The first book I can remember wasn't one I read, it was read to me. This book was a collection of works by Edgar Allen Poe. It was read to me as bed time stories when I was a wee babe barely old enough ta toddle. It stands out in my memory because it just seems to fit well with who I am.

"Many people refuse to read popular novel, such as the Harry Potter series due to themes they deem as glorifying the occult. Do you think books have the power to move people to action in something they have no interest in before they begin the first page?"

Oh absolutely. Just look at world history from less than a century ago. In Nazi Germany, they burned books all the time. Books they haven't even read. So, yes; I do believe that books can move people to action without them even having to read.

"Do you think you'd ever write a book someday? Do you know what it would be about? How would you want to be described on the "About the Author" at the front of the book?"

Yes I would write a book. I think that it is one of many ultimate forms of creation. I can fully create any world that I want when i write. I suppose I'd write a book about someone being misjudged for his actions and trying to bring an end to this kind of injustice. There are other ideas that I have, but I'd start off with that one. As for how I'd be described... I'd have to submit one of my own; letting other people describe me is... terrifying to think about.

Dreaming in Color

Dreaming in Color

By the Pond

I still remember when I first saw her, sitting all alone by the pond.

She was the only one left out, reading her book by the pond.

Everyone else was having a blast in the nice, refreshing water while she sat away from the pond’s coast, lonely by the pond.

I remembered why she couldn’t get in, why she excluded herself by the pond.

So, instead of going to my friends, who were having the time of their lives, I sat next to her, I sat by the pond.

The conversation, a one-sided one, was meaningless, a talk about how the weather was by the pond.

After a moment of silence, I told her it was okay that she was embarrassed. Not everyone has something unique about them, not everyone decides to simply rest by the pond.

She snapped her book shut, smiled, and said, “Thanks. Thanks for sitting here and talking with me, by the pond.”

She stood, flicked her blue hair from her face, and walked away, leaving me alone by the pond.

I remember her look, that sorrowful yet happy expression, that twinkle of her green eyes. I remember still when I saw her sitting alone by the pond.

I remember the start of an unusual journey, beginning with a girl and her book by the pond.

Insert awesome metaphor here, by the pond.

Willowy White and the Blue Paradise

Winter is full of

Intense and imaginative

Lives and true

Love and romance.

Often viewed as

Wasteful and unnecessary,

You know,

Winter is my favorite season.

However,

I can understand

That people can detest

Everything about it

.

The Blue Paradise

Is full of mystery and

Romance by the pond

Heart of Gold, Eyes of

Green, hair of blue, a perfect

Goddess by the pond

Cloud Formation to Deep Heliotrope

The formation of the clouds drops down in

Pure clear tears, the essence of blue

Down to a garden of bluebells.

A man lost at sea with nothing to do

Carries with him a cherished blue diamond

The color being a limitless cosmos, blue.

All shine with a brighter blue than the deepest of heliotropes.