Oops, my bad.

I have not been posting regularly like I should. I think I promised at least twice a week and in the last few weeks I have failed quite miserably at that. I could tell you that I was super busy with final projects, research papers and studying for finals - but that really isn't a good excuse since I like to write instead of doing all those things. I should have taken a little bit of time to write something up during the end of the semester but I didn't. 

Anyways, finals week went pretty good. Even though not all of my grades are up online, I'm pretty sure that I did pretty well in all of my classes. Didn't make the Dean's List but I'm not on academic probation either. I really enjoyed this past semester, I'm going to miss it. I LOVED going to Writing Fiction, it always got me motivated to write something whether it turned out to be a few pages long or just a few paragraphs. 

I am working on August. It's going slow but I am working on it. I have a few scenes written up and some other things but none of it is really strung together yet. I'll post some snip-its as I see fit. If I don't get much up from that story, I'll work on some other things to keep my readers entertained. Well, hopefully. 

The past few weeks have been a little crazy.

My wiper motor went out a few weeks ago so I had been driving with out wipers for a few weeks in the snow. It was only troublesome every now and then. My wonderfully amazing boyfriend and his dad replaced my wiper motor for me so now I have working wipers. It is a Christmas "miracle." The greatest part was that it only cost me $30.47. I almost broke down and got it fixed in Duluth for four times as much because I am a sissy. Good thing my boyfriend talked me out of it. 

I have been getting more hours at the bookstore lately - kind of stressful with classwork and trying to have a life other than school and work. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy work (as well as the paychecks) but I'd like to have some ME time. ME time usually involves my roommates too since I don't have many single-person hobbies. I should work on that. I like to knit but I am not very good at it - I can only finish scarves. 

I've taken some pictures in the past few weeks that I'll share once I find my camera cord.

Tootles!

Another misused Sunday.

You think I'd learn to do my homework during the week so I don't have to do it all on Sunday. I'd like to spend my Sundays napping, watching movies and leisurely reading. I do NOT like spending Sunday reading for my research paper and working on a fiction portfolio. Although, the fiction portfolio is more fun it's still work.

I've been procrastinating hard core on my English Lit before the 1800s research paper. I'm so bored of researching and am no good at putting together research papers. I could develop an argument and talk to my professor about it for a few hours but writing a research paper is no fun. After a while, my research papers turn into rants that don't cite much of my research. 

I need to get this paper done by Tuesday night because I don't want to be that student who works on something up until the last possible minute and it shows. I'd like it to be perfect on Tuesday night before I go to bed. It probably won't happen but it will be close. I'm at the point where as long as it's done and is about 8 pages long, I'll be happy with myself.

Hopefully I'll be able to relax a little next Sunday. After this coming Thursday, I don't have much to worry about except work and final exams. I've never studied during finals week before and managed to pass all my classes, so I'm not going to do it this time either.

Come on, I just need a Sunday to relax and take as many naps as I want. 

While I'm thinking about it...

...I should post some fiction. If I don't do it now I'll probably forget it for tomorrow. I took some time today during my break to write this. With that being said, it is just a rough draft beginning. So, there are a few things that need to be changed or added.

It was August, the leaves were just starting to turn and the nights were getting shorter. Soon, Ryan would be headed to (college) and Renee would be headed to (college). They’d spent the better part of two years together every day. Soon they’d be hours apart and only together every few weekends.

­­­__________

“Let’s go for a drive.” Renee was sitting on the couch watching some reality television show and working on her latest knitting project.

“Where to?” Ryan was in the kitchen, hurriedly trying to finish washing the dishes from dinner.

“Anywhere.”

“Anywhere?” He looked over to the bird clock on the wall to see the time. 10:23, he thought, not too late.

“Yea, I’m bored.”

Ryan pulled the stopper out of the drain and watched the soapy water vacate the sink. He walked past the living room and down the hall to his room. He put a sweatshirt on and grabbed his keys. He walked back to the living room and stood, watching Renee as she finished knitting a row on her project. He liked the way she would bite her lip when she was focusing intently on something.  “What are you waiting for?” he asked.

Renee looked up from the project and smiled, her cheeks were a little red. She knew he was just watching her. “Give me a minute.”

“Okay,” he said, ‘I’m going to go start the car.”

Renee put her project in her knitting bag, she hadn’t decided if they were going to be socks or mittens yet. She stuffed her knitting bag between the couch and the end table. Then put her shoes on and grabbed her purse on her way out the door.

Ryan was standing in the middle of the driveway, hands stuck in his pocket and looking up at the stars. He liked living in the country so that the light from town wouldn’t pollute the view of the stars. He liked gazing at the stars. Some nights he would lay in the driveway for hours just looking at the stars.

“What are you doing?” Renee set her purse on the roof of the car and walked to where Ryan was standing in the middle of the driveway.

“Thinking.” He took his left hand out of the pocket and put it around Renee. He pulled her closer to him, squeezing her just a little.

“About what?” She leaned her head back on his shoulder and looked up at the stars. The Big Dipper was just overhead.

“Just stuff.” He leaned his head on hers, but just for a moment. Then he let go of Renee and started towards the car.

“Stuff?” She looked at the stars for a few seconds longer and let out long sigh. She turned and started towards the car.

Sunday's should be for sleeping...

Lesson of the day: don't leave your homework for Sunday. I could have easily been working on my homework all week and left the weekend mostly for fun and sleeping but I've decided to torture myself.

I have two papers that are due this coming week, one is a rough draft and the other is a final draft. The rough draft is just a bit more stressful though. I could have been working on it a little by little all week, so doing a little bit of work on it everyday instead of a whole bunch on one day.

So here I am writing a rough draft for my English Lit before the 1800s class and I'm literally pulling my hair out. I suck at coming up with thesis statements. I mean, I know what I want to say in my paper but I don't know how to write a well-thought, compelling thesis statement. Also, I hate citing my sources. It's just so much work that I'd rather not do. If I could just rant for eight pages, I would.

I needed a break from the paper stress so I'm posting on the blog, something I haven't done in over a week. I'm so sorry. I owe you guys another fiction posting too. Sheesh, just adding the stress for myself. I need to quite procrastinating, but that will never happen. At least I don't have to cite my sources on this blog post.

Well, I'm off to continue writing my research papers..and watching the Harry Potter weekend on ABC Family.

Yay! I'm on time this week!

So, I am particularly proud of myself for actually posting some fiction writing on Friday, just like I planned! I have been working on a few things and some things have been developing better than others.

The Alice in Wonderland inspired story isn't coming along too well, but maybe if I leave it be for a while and come back to it I'll have some better ideas.

On the other hand, this story that I just started working on is coming along nicely. Although, the drafts are very rough and there are only pieces of the story. I have a little bit of a beginning, some part of the middle and maybe an ending done. So, very rough.

The Evergreen

Jemma visited the tree everyday on her way home from school. It was about eight feet tall and had branches that stuck out five feet at the bottom and just a few inches at the top. Her mother had helped her plant it when she was five-years-old. Jemma had won it on Arbor Day at school in a coloring contest. They had planted it in the furthest corner of their yard, about five feet from the white picket fencing that was no longer there.

Jemma walked to school now and the evergreen that her and her mother planted fifteen years ago was a mile off the path. In the summertime she’d sit and read in the shade of the tree, in the fall she’d make a pillow of leaves and take a nap. In the winter, she’d make two snow people, one was just a few inches taller than the other.

Jemma and her mother used to build snow people together on snow days. Her mother was stronger than her so she could roll bigger balls for the body of the snow people. Jemma would stick vegetables, animal crackers, and other food she didn’t finish at lunch into a baggy to make the facial features of the snow people. Sometimes, she would save a brown and split it into two parts for the eyes and apple slices shaped into a half moon for the mouth. Jemma’s mother always bought a bag of coal and saved some carrots from the garden so they’d have them for snow days.

Jemma’s mother died in a car accident four days before Jemma’s eleventh birthday. She’d been out shopping for luau decorations. They were harder to find since Jemma’s birthday was in the middle of January.

Pajama daze.

Lesson of the day: sleeping in and hanging out in your jim-jams is quite relaxing (and productive even).

I slept in this morning, well I slept later than I do every other day of the week anyways. It felt so good to not have to wake to an alarm, although I woke up at 8:26 am and thought that I'd overslept and missed the bus for school. Don't worry, I fell back asleep for another two hours.

Between 10:30 am and noon I folded two baskets of laundry, did the dishes, invoiced some customers and read twenty pages in The Scarlett Letter. They were probably the most productive two hours of the whole week. I'm feeling pretty good about today so far. I hope I can keep the productivity up.

I think after I shower I am going to put jammies right back on, I think they are the key to productiveness.

FICTION FICTION FICTION

So, I have been on a roll with writing lately. I just keep coming up with ideas upon ideas. Sometimes I feel like a writer and sometimes I don't. I feel like sometimes I could be a writer and other times I could be a Writer. The first one not so professional and the second more professional and there is monetary rewards. 

So, the following is a new beginning to the story that I had been working on. I guess I am still working on it - the story with the girl who gets shot at the bus stop. 

“Isaac!”

“Yes, my love.”

“Will you please come here?”

“Um, I am kind of busy at the moment.”

“Seriously?”

Jordan is five feet and five inches tall and has trouble reaching the top shelf in the cupboards. The stepstool was missing in action so she needed some help reaching fixings for dinner.

“Isaac, will you please help me? It’ll take you like five minutes.”

“Fine.” He closed out of the windows he had open on his computer and shut it off. He figured he should spend some time with Jordan before she left for work for the night. He’d be asleep by the time she got home since he had to work early the next morning.

“I just need the spaghetti noodles and the olive oil,” she told him as he walked into the kitchen.

“Spaghetti again?” He bit the inside of his cheek and squinted one eye.

“Would you like something else?”

“No,” he said, “spaghetti is fine I guess.”

 Jordan set the pot of water on the burner and turned it on. She went to the fridge and got the meat and the onion out. She wore a surgical mask while she cut onions so she wouldn’t cry. Her mother tried teaching her the trick to cut an onion without crying but she never remembered it.

Isaac sat down on the couch and turned the game on. It didn’t matter who was playing, it was always more important than anything else.

“How long until its ready,” he asked.

“It could be done faster if you helped,” she said. 

A little something, something.

I've started a little writing project, not sure if it will fully mature but it is kind of fun.

Maggie’s Quest

Maggie sat at her desk that faced the window. She could see the playground with all the other kids playing on it. She wished she could be in Tommy Johnson’s place sliding down the red swirly slide or like Molly Wingrove who was swing on the banana swing. Maggie couldn’t though. She had recess detention. Recess detention is the worst kind of detention because you had to watch the other kids playing on the playground.  

Maggie was a creative and adventurous child. Her teachers mistook this for troublemaking and mischief. Today she had detention for slaying a dragon. In Maggie’s world, the dragon was her fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Jackson. She was the oldest, meanest and ugliest teacher in the whole school. 

Intera..what?

I sincerely apologize for the lack of a Fiction Friday post this past Friday. I was so busy all day because my wonderfully charming boyfriend was coming to see me. I had class, work, dinner to make and a hockey game. 


I know, I know. I should have prepared something Thursday night, or anytime earlier in the week for that matter, so I could have posted something on Friday. I just wasn't thinking that far ahead last week. Sorry.


Anyways, today was an interesting day. It always felt like it was morning, no matter what time it really was. It felt like 7 am when I woke up at 7 am, it felt like 7 am after my 9 am class, it felt like 7 am while I was processing textbooks at 2:30 pm. It just felt odd. Now that I am home, it feels like it is late. It's only 3:15 pm and it feels like it's almost 7 pm. What is up with my internal clock?! 


Ooh, I have something to tell you. This ?! = this ‽. It is called an interabang. It used to be more often but it is sort of being phased out. I love it though, it is now my favorite punctuation mark. 

News flash: Marxism.

Lesson of the day: I am not a unique individual with unique thought. I am a socially constructed being.

In my Methods of Literary Study class, we are reading from The Theory Toolbox. Chapter 6: Ideology, explains how the "self" and the "subject" are influenced. We'd like to think that we are all our own unique individual with individual thoughts and ideas but the truth of the matter is that we cannot escape cultural impact.

So, if you think that you've thought up a wonderfully new and unique idea, you haven't. Everything that you produce is a byproduct of what you have learned from the environment around you. I was slightly depressed this morning after class. It is so heart-wrenching to hear that there are people who believe that you don't really have a unique self. I always like to think that I am an individual with feelings and ideas that are just mine.

Argh...onto a lighter note though.

My Writing Fiction teacher gave me props today for my short story that I've been working on. She told me it is "a great skeleton" and "you have good momentum throughout the story." Essentially, she told me I am on my way to being a writer. After my draft conference I was filled with ideas for my story. I realized that I started my story in the "middle" of the story. I have so many ideas for a real beginning to my story.

Readers may want to know more about the characters and their relationship before the real juicy stuff happens. I still don't know if it will be my favorite story that I write or even make a top five list. It will be the first short story that I do more than one draft of, so that is exciting. Well, to me anyways. I feel like it makes me a better writer to go through a story multiple times. I guess it makes you think more about how you write and how you can say things.

I was going to work on it tonight but I ended up not having the motivation to do it since The Theory Toolbox interrupted me. I hate reading about being a socially constructed being with no unique or new thoughts.

Fiction Saturday.

Seriously, Fiction Saturday is just as good as Fiction Friday, right? Even though there is no alliteration in the title it's the actual post that counts.

I've decided to take a break from posting more on the Bus Stop/Shooting story and am going to move on for a little bit. I need to do some more work on that one before I post more. My Writing Fiction professor has us do exercises to expand our writing abilities and work on certain elements of writing stories, so this week she had us eavesdrop on a conversation and turn it into a scene with dialogue. 


Here's the preface: I went to the coffee shop on campus to work on some homework and to try to listen in on a conversation. It was rather interesting. 

Thanks to the Barista

Reluctantly Molly walked into the coffee shop; she had seen him in there and had been avoiding him. She desperately needed her caffeine fix. Mondays are the worst. She kept her head turned away from him and tried ordering her coffee with a British accent so he wouldn’t notice her voice.

“I’m sorry,” said the barista, “what did you want.”

“A tall mocha with a hint of mint,” she said, abandoning the accent.

“Trying something new,” he asked.

Molly turned in his direction; it wasn’t in her nature to be rude. “I guess I am just stuck in character,” she said.

“How was your weekend?”

“It was fine. How about yours?”

“I didn’t drink at all this weekend I had to start a paper Friday night and on Saturday I volunteered to be a sober cab.”

“When is that paper due?”

“Next Tuesday I think.”

“Oh good, I have time to start it then.”

“Anyways, on Saturday we went out and I was the sober cab. My roommate, he’s diabetic so he shouldn’t be drinking as much as he does. Seriously, he can do a 24 pack in a day. He was so drunk on Saturday night. He ran up the stairs in our apartment and I heard a loud crash and when I got up the stairs I saw him on the ground.”

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.

He continued. “I had to pick him up and literally carry him over my shoulder.”

“Oh my gosh, really.”

“Yea, he just kept falling and falling and I had to pick him up every time.”

“It is kind of fun to watch people when you’re sober,” she said.

“I hate watching people when I’m sober. I can’t stand being the only sober one.”

“Why?”

“Because they want you to drink and they won’t give up. They always want you to drink and they don’t care if you’re driving later. I’d like to but I know that I can’t drive after a beer.”

“You should have gone to a closer party.”

“We wanted to go see some people who came up from the cities. I was the only one with a full tank of gas since my parents give me money for that.”

“That’s nice.”

“One time, I told my friends I was pregnant so they would stop harassing me to drink.”

“I can’t believe you’d say that to get out of drinking.”

“I told them I wasn’t the next day though. I really didn’t want to drink.”

“Traditional mocha with a hint of mint,” the barista called out.

“That’s me, gotta run.”

“Catch you later Molly,” he hollered after her as she was walking out the door.

Re-read.

Lesson of the day: re-reading your writing is very helpful, or should I say insightful.

Right now, haha, write now. Sorry, but I am in that kind of mood. Right now I am working on re-working my story that I have been posting for Fiction Friday. Now that I am re-reading it, I have to say that I am not as proud of it as I was before. There are plenty of spots in the story that need more elaboration and some spots that need to be tossed out all together.

I can't believe I turned this in today, well the rough draft of it anyways. I am so thankful for the "It's only a rough draft" excuse though. In the next two weeks I have the opportunity to polish it up for the second draft. After that, I'll have another few weeks to make a third and final draft.

Writing is fun, I don't think I am going to make a living from it yet but maybe in the future. Who really knows?

I have been accused multiple times of writing from a semi-autobiographical point-of-view. I refuse to accept that I can't make up an original character. All of my characters are as original as they can be, I mean they are taken from everyday people who ARE originally themselves. Now, that I have re-read my story with this knowledge of the accusation, I will fess up to being a little semi-autobiographical. I guess I do use people from my life for characters and I do use the events that I witness or experience for inspiration in my stories that I write.

NEWS: I had an idea today for another story. I am going to write a spin-off of Alice in Wonderland. I can't give away the exact details because I wouldn't want anyone to take any of my ideas...I'm a hoarder in that way.

Ciao!

Halloween.

Yay for Dominoes, The Gingerdead Man and Monsturd. 

Fiction Friday came early this week!

I am happy to inform you that I am moving right along with my story, again, finally! Hope you like it as much as I do. It's going to be the first short story that I actually finish AND like. Well, hopefully. 

She typed in the name and hit enter. She scrolled through the list. Her eyes were no longer calm.

“Sir,” she started, “it doesn’t look like she’s here.”

Isaac ran to the door and pushed it open. He got in the jeep and started the car. He was out of breath. He sat in the car for a moment and debated where to go next, United Methodist or Riverside Hospital. “Riverside may be closer,” he thought to himself. He buckled his seat belt and he was off.

He was lucky enough to catch all the green lights on his way. He turned into the parking lot and unlike the first hospital he checked, it was a pay lot. He dug his wallet out of his pocket and stuck his card into the machine. “Please wait for ticket,” the machine said. He took the ticket and drove off almost breaking off the gate.

He pulled into a parking spot, this time closer to the door. He unbuckled his seat belt, shut off the jeep, made sure he had the keys, shut and locked the doors and went in.

“I’m looking for Jordan Lawrence,” he told the woman at the front desk.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” she said.

“Ma’am, I don’t have a moment,” he replied.

“What was the name?” she asked.

“Lawrence. Jordan Lawrence,” he said.

Isaac was pacing back and forth waiting for the woman to find her. He folded his arms across his chest and stuck his hands under his arm pits. The pits of his shirt were damp.

“Jordan Lawrence is in surgery right now,” she said. “Do you have proof of kinship?”

“I’m her boyfriend,” he said, “I need to see her.”

“Sir, unfortunately I can’t let you back unless you have proof of kinship or her permission,” she told him, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Isaac sat in the waiting room. He was tapping his foot and tapping his cheek with his pointer finger. He sat there and repeated the motions for a few minutes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed Jordan’s parents. It went to voicemail. He hung up and tried again. It went to voicemail again. He browsed through his contacts. Who else could help him?

He called Jordan’s brother Jeremy. It rang a few times and he picked up.

“Jeremy,” he said without giving him a chance to answer, “you need to get to Riverside now.”

“Why?” Jeremy asked?

With my deepest apologies.

So, I will not be posting the next portion of the story that I am working on.

First of all, I'm not far enough to post more. Second of all, I don't really have time to proof read it and edit it.

I wish that I had something ready for you but I don't. I should (cross fingers) have something for you tomorrow. Have a good one and please check tomorrow!

Adieu.

Feeling the flu.

Lesson of the day: college does not care if you are sick. I just personified college. It is like a real person with no feelings for how you are feeling.

I went to work and class sick today all because I had to go to class to pick up a take-home exam. It seems like the most informal form of an exam but I still had to show up to class to get it. What a joke. Another things, I didn't know how to call in sick for my job since I am new at the campus bookstore. I'm not sure what the penalties are for calling in sick the day of without a doctors note.

I know that I am sick. However, I don't think it requires a doctor visit. Well, not yet anyways. I have a mild fever and an upset stomach. Seems like something a healthy diet, sleep and over-the-counter medication will fix.

Hopefully I get better in the next few days. This weekend is going to be exciting. My family is coming up for MEA break and there are hockey games this weekend. I can't wait!

Adieu.

Fictitious.

You've waited patiently, so here is the next part to my short story!

Isaac ran over to the ambulance. Jordan looked at him, unable to say anything all she could do was reach for him. Her hand, still warm, grazed Isaac’s cheek. A tear rolled down his face.

“Sir, you’re going to have to move,” said one of the paramedics. He was tall with dark hair and blue eyes. The sleeves on his shirt were tight around his biceps.

“You don’t understand!” Isaac yelled. “She’s my girlfriend. I need to be with her.”

“Sir, if you aren’t family you can’t ride with,” said the paramedic.

The door closed and the ambulance drove away. The police cleaned up the scene and tore down the tape. Isaac sat in the bus shelter for a moment, got up and looked at the bus schedule and walked back to the jeep.

He propped himself against the car. He breathed in and then out. He dug in his left pocked for the key. That’s where he always put his keys but they weren’t there this time. He ran up the block scanning the ground for them. No luck. He walked back to the jeep and looked through the windows to see if he left them in the ignition. They were there.

He got in, turned the key and drove off.

“Where are they going to take her,” he thought to himself.

There were four hospitals in a three mile radius. Each of them was about the same distance from the bus shelter. Isaac drove to St. Peter Hospital first. They had a highly rated trauma unit.

Red light. Isaac rapped his fingers on the steering wheel in a frantically rhythmic beat. He checked the traffic from the left and then from the right, nothing. He stepped on the gas pedal and looked in his rearview mirror to make sure no police had seen him.

He turned into the parking lot and took the first spot he saw. He went to unbuckle and realized that he had not buckled up in the first place. He made sure to grab the keys out of the ignition, locked the doors and ran to the entrance.

The lady at the front desk had daisies on her scrubs. Her hair was neatly tied back and her eyes were steady and calm.

“My girlfriend just got shot! Help,” he said.

“First name,” she asked.

“Isaac,” he answered.

“I mean your girlfriend’s name,” she said.

“Jordan. Jordan Lawrence,” he said, “she’s 5’6”, 145 pounds and has freckles and..”

“I just need the name,” she interrupted. 

Sorry for the delay.

Fiction Friday is here, a day late. I'm sorry but I was so busy yesterday. I had class, work and a get together at my house so I didn't even have a few minutes to post the next part of my story.

So, without further ado, here it is!

Jordan looked around. She didn’t seem him, at first. She noticed that he had walked around the bus shelter and was standing on the other side of it. He was too close for comfort. It was dark, darker than usual it seemed. There wasn’t a star in the sky and the moon was hidden behind clouds. The bus wasn’t due for three minutes.

The man in the black fleece looked at Jordan. Their eyes met and she quickly looked away. Her face felt hot. She was sweating from pores she didn’t know about until now. He unzipped his black fleece three-quarters of the way down. Slowly he reached into it and held onto something. The bus wasn’t due for two minutes.

The man turned towards the bus shelter and looked at Jordan. Jordan avoided his gaze. He moved towards the bench she was sitting on and pulled his arm out of his jacket.

Jordan jumped off the bench. “He’s gotta,” she blurted out.  

That was the last Isaac had heard from her. He grabbed his coat and put on his shoes. He flung himself down the stairs and out the door. He dug around in his pocket for keys but only had his wallet, a safety pin and Chapstick. He ran back up the stairs and picked up the first set of keys he saw. On his way down the stairs he tried to examine the keys to see whose they were. They must have been a spare set. He mashed the buttons on the remote until the lights on his roommates Jeep flashed. He started the car, switched the lights on and put the Jeep into gear. The wheels catapulted gravel across the driveway as he sped off.

Isaac rolled through stop signs and accelerated through yellow lights. The six minute drive seemed to go on forever even though he was going nine miles over the speed limit.

He found a place to park on the street by the gas station. He put it into park and searched for the handle. The door flew open and Isaac ran to the flashing lights. There was an ambulance and two police cars on scene. It had been fourteen minutes since he hung up the phone. There was already police tape up. No one could pass unless they could prove they were police officers, paramedics or next of kin to Jordan.

Isaac could do none of that. He watched helpless on the other side of the police line. He looked over at the police car. The man in the oversized black fleece was sitting in the back seat with his forehead pressed against the window.

Isaac stared at the man. Trying to figure out what would compel him to shoot Jordan. What did Jordan do? The man in the fleece caught Isaac’s gaze. He stared back at him. No sign of regret or remorse on his face.

Two police interrupted their gaze. The lights on the car flashed and the man was gone. Isaac’s stomach dropped to his feet and his heart was lodged in his throat. For the first time since they started dating, Isaac couldn’t help her. He collapsed onto the curb. He watched car after car go by until he heard the ambulance sirens. The paramedics grabbed the gurney and hurried over to the curb. They hoisted Jordan from the bus shelter and onto the gurney. While one was helping her breathe the other was assessing the wounds. 

Seriously Twins?

Lesson of the day: watching an important division playoff game while you are doing homework is dangerous.

As most of you know, the Twins are in the playoffs. They are playing the most evil team in Major League Baseball, and I don't mean the Boston Red Sox. I'm talking about the New York Yankees. They are not a home-grown team like the MN Twins are. Every single one of their players was another team's talent that was bought and added to the Yankees. There are a few players, like Jeter, who were brought up with the Yankees.

Well, I was doing my homework. All was well, the game was tied and the Twins were playing well. All of a sudden things took a turn for the worst and thats when my homework progress started to fade.

By the time the game was done all of my books were shut, pens and pencils put away and I exited out of Microsoft Word.

I no longer have any motivation to do my homework tonight. So, I am going to watch Date Night and then go to bed. Maybe I'll go get some Taco Bell in between.

p.s. Tomorrow is Fiction Friday! I'm so excited that I almost posted the next page of the story tonight.

Harry Potter marathon.

Lesson of the day: a little (in my case, a lot) of Harry Potter can help with homework.

My roommates and I started the Harry Potter series last night. We watched Sorcerer's Stone and Chamber of Secrets last night - although we fell asleep for parts of it. We finished up the last 30 minutes of Chamber of Secrets and then started Prisoner of Azkiban. We've watched all the way through Order of the Phoenix.

Guess what? I've gotten more accomplished homework wise in one day than I have so far this semester. I think I am going to have movie marathons more often if it helps with my productivity.

I love love love love the Harry Potter movies. I totally geeked out while watching the first few. Ron, Harry and Hermione all look so young.

So, I typed a few hundred more words in one of my short stories, completed my forum postings for my Methods of Literary study class, read ahead for Writing Fiction, read The Knight's Tale by Chaucer and finished my Methods of Literary Study exam review sheet.

Such a good night. I can go to bed feeling good about how I spent my day! Yay!

Eating pavement.

Lesson of the day: wear shoes with soles. Good soles, like the ones with grippies on them.

Lately it seems that the rain and cement have conspired against me. Cement is slippery when wet - at least when you wear flip flops. I didn't know it was going to rain today. I should have been prepared for anything since I live in Duluth.

Walking home from the bus stop hurt. Half way between my house and the bus stop I slipped and fell right on my rear end. I think it's bruised, badly. To make it even worse there was a parade of cars passing by right as it happened. So freaking embarrassing. I hate the rain. I hate it.

Usually I like autumn rain, but not today. I probably wont like it if it rains tomorrow either. It will make for good studying weather. No real good reason to leave the house if it's raining.

p.s. Anyone who actually reads my blog got two posts today! How lucky for you!

You've waited for it...

and it's here. Well, I've waited for it at least. FICTION FRIDAY!

This week we didn't do as many writing exercises in class, at least none that are share worthy. However, I did get a fabulous idea while I was waiting for the bus the other night. I guess I'm one of those "write what you know" kind of writers. I definitely exaggerated the experience in my story but that doesn't matter. Fiction can be made up and full of lies - those lies have to be believable though.

This class has opened up my writing senses and it's only been four weeks. This semester will really shape me as a writer. I'm loving it. I wouldn't mind getting paid to create short stories for the rest of my life. Alas, that only happens to a few writers. Most writers have a primary job and write on the side. Either would be fulfilling.

I won't keep you waiting any longer. So, here is my story. The first part at least.

Jordan got off late that night. She walked a block from her work to the bus stop. The bus wouldn’t come for a half hour. She sat on the cold, metal bench that was in the small bus shelter. It was big enough for about 3 people, comfortably. She called her boyfriend while she waited. She got his voicemail so she hung up and redialed.

“Hello,” he said as he inhaled shallowly and then quickly exhaled.

“Hey! Are you alright?” Jordan asked.          

“I just ran up the stairs to answer my phone,” he said. “Are you on break?”

“No. I just got off. There weren’t many dishes to do tonight.”

While the conversation continued on about their day, their plans for the night and what they were going to do over the coming weekend, a man wearing a black Columbia fleece that was about two sizes too big for him came into the bus shelter. He checked the schedule, nodded his head and walked down the block towards the gas station. The bus wasn’t due for sixteen minutes.

“Hope the bus is running early,” Jordan said.

“Why? It’s not like you’re planning on doing much,” Isaac said. “You were just going to watch TV and fall asleep anyways.”

“There was a man,” Jordan whispered.

“There are always men Jordan,” Isaac said. “It’s kind of necessary to procreate.”

“I know that,” she said. “It’s just, well, he, I don’t know. I’m paranoid.”

Jordan looked down the block and saw the man in the black fleece walk out of the gas station. He was dragging his left foot. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up immediately. Her gut twisted and did a somersault. He was walking back towards the bus stop.

“The bus there yet hon?”

“No but that guy is walking this way.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Usually his promises were reassuring. She had believed his promises for the last four years. He always knew what to say to clear her mind. Tonight was different. She was still worried. She curled her toes in her shoes and made a fist with her hand she had in her coat pocket. The bus wasn’t due for seven minutes.

“Were you busy with something before I called?” Jordan asked.

“No. I’d just gotten home from class,” he said. “Is that guy there?”

12 hours.

Lesson of the day: after 12 hours of non-stop doing all you want to do is, well, do.

I woke up this morning at 7:15. I got ready for school and then hopped on the bus at 8:25 am. I had class from 9-11, worked from 11-2, class from 2-4 and worked from 4-8:15ish. I did not get back to my house until a little after 8:30 pm. I had been gone for a little over 12 hours. I thought I would want to brush my teeth and get right into bed.

Instead, I read a few pages from a short story for Tuesday and started on my study guide for Methods of Literary Study. I had an excellent idea for a story so I dropped the study guide and opened Microsoft Word and typed away for about 45 minutes. I have a great beginning to a story. It will make an excellent first draft for my 10 page short story.

Also, I am not as tired as I thought I would be. I will be going to bed by midnight though because I am ill. Nothing major, just need to keep it under control. This weekend is devoted to napping and taking it easy, except for the 7 hours I work on Saturday.

So, tomorrow I am going to post a little of the story that I have been working on tonight. I am committing to Fiction Fridays. They keep me motivated to write a little bit of fiction during the week. Hopefully I'll get more readers and then in turn get comments on my fiction.

peace.

PUSH!

Lesson of the day: push through the tough stuff, you'll feel better after.

I worked out today for the first time in a couple of minutes. The first 10 minutes were easy and then they each minute after got harder and harder. I planned on working out for 45 minutes so I was going to. At about the 17th minute I thought to myself that 25 minutes would be good enough. So, at about the 24th minute I decided to go for 30 minutes and 30 minutes magically turned into 45 minutes. I felt pretty good about it. I know that once I get used to my regular workout routine that it will get easier and then I will have to challenge myself again and again.

Last week I decided that since I have so much extra time in my hand that I would work out everyday after class - that is if I am not working or don't have prior plans. I am starting with cardio this week and will add in some strength and core training next week.

Working out was really a pick-me-up today. I knew I would be lazy once I got home so know that I had already worked out made me feel like less of a bum.

Welcome to...

FICTION FRIDAYS!

Since Writing Fiction is going so well I've decided to change my blog up a little. There will now we short, but not slight, writings based on writing exercises and assignments from class posted on Fridays. Hope you enjoy it! Give me some feed back too!

Her lips were painted crimson and her hair was curled and loosely pinned up. She wore a little black dress with bright red high heels she borrowed from her mom. It was the first time she had a date for a dance. She was dropped off at 6:45 pm so she could meet him. When she realized that he had not arrived on time, she was disappointed. She thought that she had invited Mr. Right, the guy who is always on time as well as dashing and intelligent. She figured he might be the type to be fashionably late, so he might be there a few minutes after the agreed upon time. She gave him five more minutes, she was hopeful. Slowly, her hope dwindled and was almost gone after waiting for fifteen more minutes. It was now 7:06 pm and he was still not there. The dance had started at 7 pm. A tear ran down her cheek leaving a trail of mascara that she had put on according to the guidelines of Seventeen Magazine. She decided not to wait any longer and went in, without a date by her side. She joined a cluster of her friends on the dance floor and tried to dance the night away as best as she could but she knew it would take more than three hours of dancing in the middle school gym to forget that she had been stood up by tall, dark and handsome, Drew Tyler. She had been in love with him since 6^th grade, or so she thought anyways.

She went home that night devastated that it had not gone according to plan. She walked in the door and kicked the bright red heals off that left blisters on her feet before she made her way into the kitchen to get the Rocky Road ice cream out of the freezer. Her mother tried asking her what was wrong and instead of talking about it she shrugged her shoulders and stormed up the stairs. Immediately she logged into her instant messenger.

Username, crzygrl<3, password, starlover12.  

She scanned the list of her online friends, the list was short.  Marlene, her table partner from algebra, was on and so was Jordan, he played soccer with Drew. She had seen Marlene at the dance so she had plenty of things to discuss with her like Veronica O’Malley’s itty-bitty dress and Kevin Connor’s date. Everyone suspected that it was his second cousin. She hadn’t seen Jordan since their History class first hour with Mr. Fink. She asked Jordan if he went to the dance and he had no response. So while she waited for a response from Jordan she continued her conversations with Marlene.

After the gossiping ran dry she poured her soul out to Marlene about the horror of the night. She knew where Drew had been that night because of a conversation she overheard Drew and Jordan having during English the day before. They were reading Romeo and Juliet and neither of them cared to listen to Mrs. Fiskum’s drone on about Mercutio’s death. Marlene didn’t have the heart to tell her what she knew though. Marlene knew it would break her poor heart if she found out why she had been stood up.

About an hour after she had sent Jordan a message he finally responded. She had been listening to the radio and removing the red nail polish she carefully painted on her fingernails before the dance. She heard the instant message notification and sprang up from the odd cross-legged position she was sitting in.

Soccerboy16:how was the dance??

Crzygrl<3:just fine I guess. Drew didn’t show up

Soccerboy16:uhhh

Soccerboy16:that’s too bad I guess

Crzygrl<3:yea, I waited for him for a long time too. He was suppose to be early but he wasn’t

Soccerboy16:yea. We’ve been playing video games instead of going to the dance

Crzygrl<3:we?

Soccerboy16:yea after soccer practice drew and I decided to walk to wal-mart and buy the new Madden game.

Crzygrl<3: WHAT? HE’S BEEN AT YOUR HOUSE WITH YOU PLAYING MADDEN? I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. I asked him last week if he’d go to the dance with me and he forgot

Soccerboy16:sorry Madison. I thought he would have told you he wasn’t going or something

Crzygrl<3:will you please pass along the message that I never want to speak to him again and I am not returning his soccer hoodie.

She was absolutely devastated. She thought that she had invited the right guy, thought that if he didn’t show up it had to be for good reason but no, Drew Tyler blew her off to play Madden ’04. 

Let's take five.

Lesson of the day: when you have to go to the bathroom, go.

I did not, I repeat, did not wet myself today - and no one else did either. Although, I did have to use the little ladies room really bad during Writing Fiction but it would have been too rude to get up and go since we were doing group workshops. I should have gone before class because I had to go then too. I didn't want to get up in the middle of critiquing my classmates short story so I didn't.

I waited for what seemed like forever. Finally my teacher excused us for a five minute break. I rushed out the door and headed for the bathroom. No line! It was great but I peed for like five whole minutes, seriously. Three other girls used the other stall in the bathroom in the time I went. I felt embarrassed. I shouldn't have because everybody pees - everybody farts and everybody poops.

It seems to be small, odd things that embarrass people. For example, when your pants slide down a little exposing your underwear, if you're wearing them, and some of or butt crack. It's a small thing that can be easily corrected but people get embarrassed by it.

Have you ever farted in class thinking that it wasn't going to smell too bad but then you realize you've made a horrible mistake? Then people start talking about it and covering their noses and if you follow suit too quickly you're blamed but if you don't follow suit quick enough, you're blamed too. Apparently, girls don't fart though. So, I don't get blamed. Haha!

Three-minute fiction.

Lesson of the day: don't let the fear of a broad audience scare you. 

I have been reviewing the pros and cons of submitting a three-minute fiction to the NPR contest. I like to just write but I never write with a particular audience really and I've never thought about writing for a prize either. Well, a grade could be a prize I guess. 

Today I said, "Screw it! I'm gonna take a wack at it and try to write that short story whether or not I like the prompt." It was rather declarative and for me a little out of the norm. 

Who does depression hurt?

Lesson of the morning: someone else's depression can hurt you.

I was reading some news about Denver Broncos wide receiver, Kenny McKinley who died from an apparent suicide. Just thinking about suicide reminds me of my late uncle who died the same way. I never saw it coming and I'm sure no one else did either.

So now suicide prevention and helping people with depression are things that are dear to my heart. I wish for people who need help to find help.

Monday, Monday.

Lesson of the day: not all Mondays are the same. Yes, some of them are painful while others are a breeze to get through. Today was neither. Today was not painful and it was not a breeze to get through. It felt as if time stood still while I was moving through it. I went to class like normal, nothing agonizing about either. I went home for lunch in between classes and it was mediocre. There is nothing positively special about today or negatively memorable about today.

It was one of those days where I go through the motions. Now that it is 3:26 pm and I have realized the amount of things I am supposed to have done this week, I plan on changing that. I have some writing projects to finish, some reading to do and a few online responses to do. None of it is hard, just time consuming. I need to change my attitude today. I don't feel like doing anything but I REALLY should.

NPR is having a writing contest and I plan on entering it. I'll get credit for my Writing Fiction class and I'll have an opportunity to have my work read by more than a teacher, classmates and friends. Real people who won't have too much of an issue hurting my feelings with their critiques. I can't wait - I just have to finish writing the story. The story has to begin with "Some people swore that the house was haunted." and end with "Nothing was ever the same again after that." I have a few ideas as to what direction my story will go but I feel like reading some other short stories online for inspiration before I continue writing mine.

So far I have perfect attendance this semester. It's a streak that I hope to keep up all semester with the exclusion of my Writing Fiction class on October 5th since I am going to the MUSE/Passion Pit concert. I am so excited. I love them.

p.s. I just realized that I haven't been working on my words of the week. At all. I'm not terribly sorry since I have been writing more often and am reading books with words that I've never heard of before now.

Let go.

Lesson of the day: let it go. If something is holding you back from doing something, let it go. If something is bringing you down, let it go.

I am in a Writing Fiction class and I love it. My professor is very entertaining and is actually a fiction writer! Yay! The best advice I've gotten from her so far is that you shouldn't think about something too much. I feel like you have to let some things go in order to not think about things too much.

I want to send in one of my short stories to a writing contest but I can't let go of the idea that all of my writing sucks and can always be better. Always, whether or not it gets good praise or awful critiques. I hate publicly sharing my writing. I think I am going to be an anonymous writer if I am going to be a writer. Hopefully in time I will be more confident in my writing. The next few years in college should hopefully polish my writing skills. I just have to put myself out there so people can read what I write and give me feedback.

Also, I have to let go of my immaturity. Not the sort of immaturity where I laugh any time somebody mentions the intimate anatomy of the human body or whenever somebody talks about excretion of bodily fluids. It's the sort where I don't really want to grow up. I'd like to have minimal responsibilities for the rest of my life. That would be boring though because having a real career, getting married and having kids all have great responsibilities.

Letting go of my immaturity is not the same as letting go of the fun though. I can still go to parties and I can still nap in the afternoon. I have to start doing things on my own and not blaming other people or things for the things I do or do not do. (I should probably work on the wordiness of my writing).

So, to start, I am going to take an internship in publishing course next semester and enter some short story contests. I should also start working on my portfolio.

I write like...

So, I copied and pasted a little bit of a blog post into a text box and some sort of software analyzed it, I'm guessing anyways. Guess what, I write like Kurt V. Who knew? I guess IWL did, of course.

Try it here. 

I write like
Kurt Vonnegut

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Six words.

Lesson of the day: it's hard to boil your life down to six words. Yesterday in class we had a writing exercise. We had to write our six word memoir. I had trouble thinking of something clever and witty that would convey the essence of me, of my life, of what I do everyday...or don't do.

I have been thinking about it since class yesterday and yes, I cheated. I googled other people's six word memoirs to get ideas for my own. Stephen Colbert's is, "Well, I thought it was funny." A few of the other ones that I felt fit for me were: "Still searching for my six words" and "Smiling is worth all the wrinkles." 

I can't quite figure out the perfect six word memoir. I've been thinking and thinking and thinking. Maybe that's what I am doing wrong, thinking too much. Maybe if I just keep the thought of the memoir in the back of my mind I will have a six-word-epiphany. 

So far, I've come up with two. That I over thought. Just like I always do. Of course. 

The first one that I came up with in class in about 5 minutes is, "Don't be afraid, live a little," and the second one is "Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy." That one I put a little more thought into. Still working on the perfect six word memoir though. Maybe I'll never have one or the perfect one will pop up tomorrow. 

Maybe I could work with my indecisiveness into my short memoir. I sort of want it to be witty and clever too.

Don't think.

Lesson of the day: don't think too much about writing.

We did a few writing exercises in my Writing Fiction class today. After sitting there for a few minutes our professor told us not to think too much about what we were writing. Once I quit putting thought into what I was writing, my pen just kept moving. It was a miracle. Usually I sit with a pen and paper, or a keyboard and blank word document for about 10 minutes before I can come up with anything.

Today, I wrote about three notebook pages worth of a story in about 15 minutes. It was the best I have ever felt about writing too, in that amount of time anyways. I wrote a story about a girl who wants to go to the big city and escape the small town farm life. Even though that is a pretty cliche story, it just all came together so perfectly and I didn't have more than one brain freeze while I was writing either. After class I felt like writing more so when I got back to my house I wrote a few more paragraphs.

I think I am really going to like both classes that I had today. I know people in both classes and the professors seem nice and intelligent.

I hope that everyone else's first day of class was as exciting as mine was.

Junior.

Oh my gosh, I have to edit the title of my blog a little now. I am a Junior, no longer a Sophomore. =]

Change.

So, I've been complaining about my weight for some time now and I think, no, I know, that it is time to change what I've been complaining about. The lesson is quite simple, stop complaining about something you are in total control of and change it so that it no longer is a reason to complain. 

I, Rita Raisanen, am going to take control of my weight. Once school starts I am going to be more strict on what I eat and don't eat and begin an exercise regiment. I will have the body the body that makes people call me Rita the Body. I don't want to feel uncomfortable in my own skin anymore so I am going to change it. I hate going shopping and trying on one size and having to go up in size multiple times.

It may be shallow or superficial of me to think that way but it's how I feel. I'm not proud of what I see in the mirror. People tell me I should be but I have a hard time with that. I know that I'm not the healthiest person in the world and that's what I see in the mirror, someone who is unhealthy and lazy.

So, now that I have written it down I must go through with it. I want to be happier with my body by this time next year. Hopefully next summer I can dawn a two piece without feeling uncomfortable so that I can get a good tan!

T-minus 14 days.

Lesson of the day: my junior year of college is creeping up on me.

Pretty soon I'll be able to remove sophomore from my blog title and add junior. It's exciting but kind of scary at the same time. I'm growing up and growing more responsible for every thing I do from washing my hands to paying car insurance.

I'm not a teenager anymore. I'm an...adult. I pay bills, have a car and soon will be looking for an adult job. Well, in this economy any job is admirable. I can't blame my money troubles on anyone but myself anymore. I am in full control of working and spending my money, or not spending my money. I think they call that saving, we'll see if I can master that this year.

My goals for junior year are:
1. Achieve and maintain 3.0 GPA
2. Save money and lots of it
3. Work as much as I can and still finish my school work

A little hard work and determination should make these goals a piece of cake!