The Broom of the System

"Most really pretty girls have pretty ugly feet,

and so does Mindy Metalman,

Lenore notices all of a sudden."

The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace, was published

in 1987. Wallace was born on February 21, 1962. He was an American novelist,

short story writer, essayist, and a professor of Creative Writing.

He hung himself on September 12, 2008.

All I understood from the summary honestly, was that Lenore's great

grandmother disappeared from the nursing home, and that Lenore

is weird and is having an affair with the boss. The book is supposed to

be really funny though. I don't know if I would like it, but it's a hit or miss

type of thing, so I would like to read it some day.

The House at Pooh Corner

"But wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way,

in that enchanted place on the top of the Forest, a little boy

and his Bear will always be playing."

The House at Pooh Corner by A. A. Milne, was originally published 

in 1928. Milne was born on January 18 in 1882,

and died on January 31 in 1965. He was in both of the World Wars,

and fought for the British army. He was a playwright before 

Winnie the Pooh took over his writing, and that is what he is

primarily known for. The book hints that Christopher Robin

is growing up and going to school, and in the end they all say

goodbye, and Pooh promises to never forget him.

I think I would like the book, because as a kid, Winnie the Pooh

was my favorite. I loved him, and I still do.

The Boy and his Bear

An odd couple, a boy and a bear. Everywhere one went,

the other followed right along. The little boy grew up without a family,

and without friends. The only companion he knew, was the bear

who held his hand. Everywhere they went, judging eyes followed.

"Look at that little boy and his bear."

It was hard in the streets, but at least they weren't alone.

The boy and the bear had each other. The boy had a 

vision of a beautiful place on the top of the forest, where they could be alone

without any judgment, because people didn't really like them.

One night, they villagers chased after them, with their guns blazing.

"Take him down, even if it means you have to take the kid, too."

Bullets flew left and right as the boy and the bear ran for safety.

They managed to escape,

but wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way,

in that enchanted place on the top of the forest, a little boy

and his bear will always be playing.

Ugly Feet

Most really pretty girls have pretty ugly feet, and for some

reason it makes me feel better. Sure, they pay 50 bucks to have a 

Chinese lady scribble a flower on their big toe and splatter a

colour on the rest of the nubs. Unfortunately for them, it still

doesn't make their feet pretty. Their toes are long and skinny

like fingers, and for some crazy reason they think that long toe nails

are pretty.. And, not to mention, they're always wearing those horrible

uncle shoes, making their long finger toes stick out. One glance,

and their long boney feet are haunting my mind all day. 

I hate feet, and even more, I hate ugly feet. 

Memorable Passage

"He whined, 'A guy goes nuts if he ain't got

nobody. Don't matter who the guy is, long's he's

with you. I tell ya,' he cried, 'I tell ya a guy

gets too lonely an he gets sick.'"

-John Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men

This is one of my all time favorite quotes from my favorite book. 

I can really relate to it, because I really like being alone...

But I want someone to be alone with. I feel like you always 

need someone to talk to, or be around. Crooks was right,

if you get too lonely, you'll go crazy. Doesn't matter

who you have for company, as long as it's someone.

Don't Quote Me On That

Writers as Readers

     When I finished reading Between Shades of Grey, I was sad because I didn't want the book to end. This happens every time I finish a book. I want to read more, I want to know more, I don't want it to be over. It's a bitter sweet feeling. For me, reading is like traveling to a whole other world and finishing a book is like having to come back to reality. When I was reading Between Shades of Grey I was a part of the book. I was in the book. I was going through everything that the characters were going through. I cried with them, and I laughed with them. And the last page of the book was like a slap in the face from real life.

     My favorite genre to read is historical fiction, hence being sad over Between Shades of Grey ending. I am very interested in learning about the holocaust, and World War 2, and any historical even honestly. History is just one of my favorite subjects to learn about, I could honestly even just read a history text book... But so also really appreciate the beauty of writing, so obviously historical fiction is the best option because it combines real events with a person's imagination. 

     I don't think reading more would make a person a better writer. I go to art museum pretty often, but it definitely has not made me a better artists. I even watch diy videos, but they still don't really make me a better artist. To be a good writer, I feel like you have to have a loud mind. You don't have to have a loud voice, and you don't even have to be some great speaker. To write well, you have to know how to tie words together and make it seem amazing. You could describe a color, but if you use the right words, that could be the most beautiful piece ever. Just like with art, just because I enjoy looking at beautiful paintings, doesn't mean i know how to correctly blend the colors and swirl the brush to replicate the beautiful painting.
     I think I could write a book someday. I would want it to be a historical fiction about the holocaust. I have a great image in my head of a book about the holocaust. See, there are plenty historical fiction novels written from the perspective of the prey, but I want to make one from the perspective of the predator. I have yet to encounter a book from the eyes of a Nazi, and I want to write one. These people were conditioned to think Jews are bad. The same way we are conditioned to believe something or not believe something. It's very interesting to me, the whole concept of killing someone because of how low you think of them. And the craziest part is that they were conditioned to believe this by the government, by their friends, their loved ones... and anyone who disagreed was punished. The only thing i'd want written under the "About the Author" is "They told me being able to write wouldn't get me anywhere."  

A Secret Place

I sing of a secret place.

One where I can hide,

and be whoever I want to be.

A place where we can the reckless,

and the wild youth,

chasing visions of our future. 

A place where we can make mistakes,

and not be judged for them.

A place where we can try,

and try again,

and not stop trying until we succeed.

A place where nothing can hold us back.

Not money, not age, not work, or school.

A place where you can be an artist,

or a writer,

or a business man,

and one isn't considered "more successful"

than the other.

A place where you can change your mind

about what you want to do,

100 times before you settle.

A place where you don't even have to "settle."

A place where you only have to worry about whats best for YOU.

For me, this place is my journal.

I scribble symbols into the paper,

and I'm in that place that I sing of.

I'm in my secret place. 

Writer's Dreaming

     Maya Angelou says she doesn't even like to talk about her bad dreams because talking about them "gives them too much power." And I don't really agree with her, because you can't ignore something to make it go away. When I have a bad dream, my mom says, "Куда ночь, туда и сон." which roughly translates to "The dream goes where the night goes." That always really bothered me because I wanted to talk about it and get it out. Personally if I don't talk about something, it doesn't mean it's not running through my mind on high speed. Maya says that talking about it gives it too much power, but I feel that allowing it to gnaw and chew on your mind gives it even more power. When I have a bad dream, I talk about it a lot. I tell anyone who cares to listen, because talking about it lets it out of my system. Talking about it isn't what gives it power, letting it worry you gives it power. 
     But what if you can't talk? After going through a major trauma at a young age of 7, Maya didn't talk for almost 5 years. I don't think I would be able to live that way because I'm a very verbal person. I get extremely nervous if I have to talk in front of a large quantity of people, but I still have to be able to talk about what's on my mind. I'm a very control-freaky type of person. Everything has to be on the dot or I kind of freak out. Without my voice, I just wouldn't able to control things in my life. Many probably think I talk too much, but I just don't care. If I have something on my mind, and there's at least one person present who cares, I will talk. I'm not the greatest at expressing things through my voice, I'm better at doing that through writing, but I have a loud voice and it helps me get what I need. I don't think I'd learn more if I spoke less, because I don't learn well through just listening. I have to talk things through either with someone or myself, to fully understand some things. And I think a person could grow from speaking more. If you give yourself the strength to stand up for yourself, and talk about what you want, and be loud, you'll be a bigger person than you were when you were sitting in the back taking all the abuse going toward you. 
     After not talking for 5 years, however, Maya was comfortable using six or seven languages, and has spoken at one time or another as many as 12. I'm definitely not on Maya's level, but I use 2 languages at a time. I'm fluent in both Russian and English, and I'll admit that my brain is a mess because I think in both languages at the same time. Aside from Russian, I would love to learn French and Romanian because they're just both such beautiful languages. As told from others, Russian sounds angry all the time and I don't argue with that. So French and Romanian would be a beautiful contrast. 
     Maya says she often has "total recall" of the events in her life. I try to be the type of person that remembers everything, but I just can't. I remember almost nothing, until a certain trigger reminds me. In my opinion it's better to be a person who remembers everything because your experiences in life are also your lessons. It's what you learn, and if you can't remember it, what's the point? A lot of my high school years have been kind of fuzzy to me because I honestly started at the very bottom and it has taken me a whole lot of blood, sweat, and tears, to get to where I am now. Where I am now is probably where my memory is most clear. Unfortunately, I have better recall of my bad times than my good times. I think it's like that because time goes slow when you're so upset that your chest hurts, and your jaw is sore from crying. You really sit there and you feel everything happen to you, you feel your blood going through your body, and your heart beating. But when you're happy, you really don't notice time going by. You're so caught up in the heat of the moment, that you don't notice seconds, minutes, and hours flying by. One blink, and time has leaped ahead. Time doesn't wait for anybody, and it's when you're truly dreading time, it's when it goes the slowest. It's like school, time goes by fastest in the classes that you love because you don't notice the time. But you sit down in trig, and time just drags on and on and just doesn't seem to go anywhere.
     Maya quotes Nathaniel West as saying, "Easy reading is damned hard writing" and says writing is "just hard work, you know?" I agree with that, partially. To write a book, or something that's published would be hard writing. You have to put it together in a way where people can read and relate. But when it's 3am, and you got black coffee on the left side of your journal, and tear stains on the right, you don't care what your writing is like. It's not hard work, and you don't sit there for hours wondering what word you should use. When it hits you, and you sit there and you write, it seems like the easiest thing ever, because in that moment you don't care about your grammatical or spelling errors, in that moment you're pouring your heart out, and that's all that matters. 

Dream Threads

 

The FBI swarmed in and took everybody older than 18. 

The bus was filled with the sounds of wails and confused voices.

One girl stood out. She wasn't yelling, 

she wasn't trying to get out. She didn't even seem angry.

She sat silently, with tears streaming down her face,

and she prayed. Her hands were folded in prayer,

and her lips moved a little with very little sound coming out.

The bus shook while driving, and people were starting to quiet down. 

Silent cries were heard throughout the bus,

but many people were starting to fall asleep.

But before the girl fell asleep, she prayed to God. 

There was no way to know what would happen,

but she trusted that whatever it was,

God would help her in her hard times. 

If I Were In Charge of the World

If I were in charge of the world,

I'd cancel terrorism,

"productive" Mondays,

and also long waits at the E.R.

If I were in charge of the world,

there'd be more forests,

more time to sleep, and

kind people everywhere you go.

If I were in charge of the world,

You wouldn't have bad connection.

You wouldn't have inequality.

You wouldn't have racism.

Or, "Study for your trig test!"
You wouldn't even have trig.

If I were in charge of the world,

a huge piece of honey cake

would be a vegetable.

All makeup would be free.

And a person who sometimes forgot

what they were doing,

and sometimes forgot 

to do their homework,

would still be allowed to be

in charge of the world.

Dream Marks On My Pillow

Restless in my bed,

thinking about my regrets.

Stayed awake all night.

Before falling asleep, I pray and then I like to call my boyfriend.

Long distance is hard, and falling asleep is hard without talking to him.

It's not like I will be able to just see him tomorrow.

Every second counts, and trying to sleep without knowing he's ok

is like going to bed without feeding your pet

It's kinda wrong and it kinda haunts you all night.

I toss and turn if I haven't talked to him,

even if it's only for like 10 minutes. 

It's my version of a sleeping pill.

Stormy Beach

      I stared at the blue water in front of me.
The ocean's foam reached out its fingers to tickle my toes.
The strong salty wind blew my hair into my face.
My legs began moving,
taking me deeper and deeper into the sapphire abyss.
My sky colored bathing suit darkened from the splashing waves,
and the ocean's indigo fingers wrapped around my body,
like a coluber constrictor foxii snake.
My lips turned into the color of a pale glacier.
     The sky turned purple.
Cold rain poured out of the eggplant sky
and the moon, like a plum,
peeked out from behind the clouds.
The lightning looked like amethyst snakes
dashing across the sky.
My opal colored nails sparkled under the moon's lilac light.
The most amazing guy ran into the water too,
his dahlia print swim trunks getting wet in the grape jam water.
     I turned to look into the most beautiful brown eyes.
They were the color of an autumn forest,
with a rosewood ring
and golden specks in the center.
They were soft and kind,
like coffee beans.
I stared into his burnt umber eyes
and I could see into his soul.
They were deep,
like the earth's soil.
I looked into his eyes,
and I felt myself melt into them like chocolate.
I looked into his eyes,
and fell in love with the color of dark citrine.
     The bright yellow sun peeked out again.
The storm calmed down,
and the waves weren't as strong.
I snuggled under a banana colored blanket
on the golden sand.
with the love of my life.
His fingertips brushed against my sun kissed arms,
and I stared into his eyes once again.
I was happy like a small dandelion.

Comments

Kam:
Capri- I love that you wrapped up your poem the same way you unfolded it. Awesome :)

Ocean Side- I love the words you use, like "aquatic beast"  :)

Stone White- Really painted a picture of winter in my mind

Haiku's-  The one about mythic green for some reason made me picture old miners in the fall walking home with some gold

Kat:
Haiku's- Your haiku's made me think of spring :)

Acrostic- Reminded me of the movie Open Season where they all throw the hunters out. I just love the line "dancing across the grass"  Paints a picture of the animals "owning the land" :)

Caitlyn's Kelly- Probably crying right now, honestly. This definitely broke my heart.

Here Comes the Bride (collage free verse)

Here comes the bride.

Her dress flowing behind her, 

with a couple small flower girls holding the train.

Everyone turns to look at her. 

She's smiling from ear to ear, 

and her eyes are watering.

The groom stands at the altar,

and he can't get enough of the beautiful bride.

All eyes are on the girl in white,

and her smile is contagious.

The whole room watched 

as she walked down the aisle,

holding onto her Father's arm.

Her bridesmaids beamed with joy,

and the groomsmen nodded at the groom,

as if to congratulate him.

In that moment,

time stood still.

The bride was coming.

Plum Dandy

A creamy celebration,

a cold sensation in my mouth.

Different flavors,

different colours.

I heaped several different flavors in my bowl.

Frozen yogurt is a favorite of mine.

Suddenly,

I'm watching my bowl fall to the ground

in slow motion.

An impatient woman had pushed me,

causing my yogurt to plummet to the ground,

My plum dandy was smeared

on the white tile.

I resented that woman,

but there was nothing I could do to save my plum dandy,

So I stormed over to the counter,

and bought a new bowl.

Simple Beauty

Trapped between four amethyst walls.

Everyone walks around,

showing off their beauty,

like peacocks.

But I am plain.

My reflection is simple.

I stare out the window,

at the violet twilight.

The purple moon,

like a plum,

glistening in the sky.

I wipe away a glass tear,

as I write.

My hands are numb,

but I still write.

I look out the window once again,

and I realize.

No matter what colour the sky is,

everyone still thinks it's beautiful.

Just like me.

I'm not a sky blue morning sky like everybody,

I'm a dark and twisty stormy sky.

But I am still beautiful.

Underneath the Same Sky

A beautiful night sky, a

Maze of stars. The

Eternal beauty of 

This world never stops amazing me, Our

Hearts beating in sync with each other.

Yawning and saying goodnight before

Sleep takes over our bodies.

Time keeps going but

Here we are,

All alone in our rooms, dreaming of

Zooming across the country to see

Each other.

Shy Girl

Kissed for the first time,

Hiding her blushing skin.

Sugar beet lipstick.

Silent Slope

Wearing a gray shirt.

Architectural beauty,

on a silent slope.

Comments

Hey Kam :) I can't really relate to any sporty like things, but I can relate to the sentence "I couldn't tell you why the baseball has become so important to me, but I don't know what I'd do without it." That's how I feel about some pillow with a duck face on it. No idea why it's important, but it is. Great story, I can tell that you were talking about something you care deeply about. :) 

Hey Kam :) "A disney dolphin, cherokee indian, and kickapoo chief." Makes me realize how much we've all grown up and how much we've all really been through. Reminded me of how good of friends we were back in elementary school :)

I'm in love with how the story played out. Not every story has to be peachy and princessy and you have Sally a happy ending, in her own dark and twisty way kind of. The words "I am finally free." kept ringing in my ears even after I read the story. As a broadcast junkie, I can just picture how I could turn this into the greatest literature to life film. If I ever get the time, I'd love to work on making this into a short video! The way you talked about everything makes it easy to picture. :)

Hey Echo! I can relate to the part where you talked about your bond with your brother. MY brother is older so he's the one who sees when I don't, but we also have the unbreakable bond you talked about. And I can also relate to the part about happily married parents. This was very well written and it really showed us a small glimpse of who you are :)

Hey, Nichole :) I like the way the story unfolds in my mind. The image it gives me, especially in the part where the dragon hit her with his tail.

Hey Nichole! I can relate to the part about screaming and laughing kids in Florida. I went there last summer with my sister's family :)

Wow. This definitely hit some places that haven't been hit. I love how you used the box as a symbol rather than an object. This story was deep and made my brain wiggle and jiggle in my head. Good job on really beautifully portraying the symbolism :)

I can relate to the part about you and your brother. Mine is older, but there are definitely some fights to share :)