Writers as Readers

3. Talking about bad events can in some cases make the matter worse, but in other cases may help. I know that whenever there is drama going on with my friends at school, the problem is almost always made worse when I talk about it to other people, particularly because it can easily turn into gossip. Chances are, the friend you are upset with will hear from the grape vine that you were talking to someone else about how you were upset. However, there have been more times when a situation is better after I talk to someone about it. For example, if there are problems at home or if I am fighting with a parent, when I share with a close friend or sibling, it helps to vent and clear my mind.

4. I agree with Maya Angelou that dreams tell the truth about us. They may be disguised or hidden, but there is always truth in a dream. Your dreams all take place when you are unconscious and you don't have control over them and therefor have the potential to express your true self. When I was little I had reoccurring dreams about a beast. The night mare ended when the wolf found me and jumped out and always ended with a loud bang. What was scariest was the tension throughout the whole dream that didn't end until the loud bang that shocked me awake. In real life, I fear tension and instability- being on edge and waiting for something that I know will be bad.

5. I have always been a fan of silence. I have written an entire blog post on my other blog just about the value of silence. I can be loud and talkative but I can also be very quiet. I feel that I more often than not lean toward introversion and am a little shy. However, once I get to know someone or a group of people I can break out of my shell and be energetic and bubbly.

6. I absolutely love other languages and other cultures. I wish I had the time, dedication, and discipline to learn another language. It saddens me that there are millions of people that I can't hold a conversation with because of language barriers. I have recently been listening to the French artist Stromae. Even though I don't know what he is saying, I can understand what he means.

9. To occupy my "small mind" when writing or before I write, I like to play with playdoh- just kneading it in my palm. I also doddle- A LOT. My papers are full of doodle and scribbles. My biggest distraction when getting something done is social media- including Pinterest and Neko Atsume.

Paragraph Color Story

My night was a black one. The dark sky swallowed the city below me as I sat on the top of a parking garage, my legs dangling over the edge in the night, and my dingy car playing music behind me. For a moment I found myself alone. I looked at my hands, still stained from the charcoal I was using on a canvas just before my evening took a turn for the worst. I left my artwork alone in my dim room when my parents came home. A crow flew past the stars, ka-ing overhead as if to mock me. A somber rumble of a car pulled up the garage, parking itself next to mine. A shadow emerged from its door and walked toward me.

I saw the silhouette’s blue eyes before anything else and recognized them immediately. It was my best friend Jayden. Upon recognition, sadness flooded my vision. He hopped up on to the ledge to sit down next to me and I leaned my head on his shoulder. He put his hand in his cobalt hoodie to pull out a box of cigarettes and I watched the cool flame from his lighter burn the end. Words were rarely ever needed for us and we passed the cigarette silently to each other. I reflected on the past month’s events that led up to that night.

My sister had been in a coma for four weeks, and since then I had been red with anger. She had been hit by a car on her way to work. I was furious at the driver, with the doctors, and at God. My rage consumed me, catching me by surprise and for so long the inside of me had been burning, my face steaming. When my parents came home to tell me that there was only a small chance she would ever wake up again, I finally broke. I let my bitterness dissipate and sadness stormed me. Jay squeezed my hand and I knew that somehow I would be ok.

Jay gave me a smile, a yellow ray of sunshine in my dismal, depressed world. A light in the garage flickered on, a beam of light streaming down behind us. I let the wind carry my blonde hair and rested in the fact that I still had my best friend there beside me, if nothing else.

417 Magazine and My Future

Daunted by my mother's apprehension and stress over my own future, I face graduation and college this year. With faith in myself, I do my best not to let the pressure of "success"  overwhelm me. Success, after all, is subjective.

Being someone interested in writing, journalism, and art, our past trip to 417 Magazine was intrigued me. We discussed many aspects of the magazine world including advertisement, graphic design, photography, production, and editing. The whole magazine world was very interesting and held an environment I would love to be a part of- specifically the art and design behind the making of a magazine. Even the advertising, which I have never put much thought into, sounded like a lot of fun to be a part of. I could definitely see myself interning or working there. I love Springfield, or "Springvegas" as I like to call it, and I believe the 417 area has so many hidden treasures. 417 magazine would be a great place for me to work.

One of my favorite moments during the 417 presentation was when the question was raised about copy write. The presenter couldn't respond, for they had never thought about copy write- they didn't even have a legal team. The question simply proved how much goes into making a magazine, the genius behind the glossy images you see on your counter, and how any magazine is constantly improving itself and growing as a business. I am left with the question of simply this: How did 417 magazine publish their first issue and how were they able to grow as a business?

Defeating New Heights (Newspaper inspired)

Whenever I hang out with Jensen we always end up climbing something. Whether it be a building, a parking garage, trees, silos, or light poles. Jensen has always been a better climber than me; he has a fearless way about him. He will climb onto anything- however dangerous or however illegal. Everything about him and everything he does is done with a silent confidence. For as long as I've known him he's always been quiet. My friends who don't know Jensen claim him to be boring due to his lack of words but his quiet aesthetic only gives me more reason to admire him. He's a mystery to most but not to me.

I specifically remember a windy night in early February. My memory tells me that it was very late at night, but I know that it was really only 8:00 or 9:00, a darker night brought on by the winter winds. Jensen and I had been walking the town all evening. I had donned a pair of red mittens that made me feel ten years old again, but I didn't care because I was determined to climb trees with Jensen in the cold wind.

We had been sitting in a tree, resting our sore feet, and watching our city's night life when Jensen pointed to a shadow in the distance. "Do you see that cell tower, Ella?" He asked.

I looked at the shadow more closely and, after Jensen's suggestion of it being a tower, began to form the shape of one. "You've been wanting to climb that for months," I laughed. Typically, whenever Jensen had his eye on a new climbing spot he didn't wait more than a week to conquer it. This tower was different. It was taller than anything he had climbed before, and by far the most dangerous- not to mention illegal.

"Tonight is the night," he decided.

"It's cold out," I complained.

Jensen had already hopped out of the tree. "Let's go."

With a sigh I slid down the tree and followed him back to the sidewalk. We walked a good two miles before we reached the tower. The metal bars that made up the tower creaked and shivered in the wind. We stood at the base, staring up at it. The top disappeared into darkness, illuminating every few seconds with a blinking red light. I looked over at Jensen. "You don't have to climb it, Jensen. Plus there's got to be several police out."

"They're attention will be on the clubs and bars, we'll be fine," he explained. He placed a bare hand on the first bar of the tower.

"It's not safe," I warned.

He looked at me and smirked, "I know." His feet left the ground.

I begged him not to. I had never before told him not to climb something for I had every confidence in him. It was the intimidating, dark, fragile monster that loomed over us that made me doubt his success and confirm my own failure.

"You don't think I'll fall, do you?" He asked.

I didn't answer his question. "What's the point of climbing it? Can't you just stay down here?"

"And live with the fact that there's something out there that I can't conquer? Never," he laughed then proceeded to climb up a few feet.

I let him become a shadow with the tower until I called through the bitter air, "Jensen, please come down!" I couldn't bare it any longer. The wind was treacherous and I couldn't shake the image of his falling silhouette from my subconscious. "You won't make it!" I had broken a vow that I had sworn to myself- I told someone that they were incapable of doing something.

Jensen stopped climbing. After a stretch of what felt like a thousand years he replied, "No I won't. Not unless I have help."

"You're no coming down, are you?"

He didn't reply because I already knew his answer. I rolled my eyes and with a huff I slipped off my mittens and placed a palm on the cold metal bar of the cell tower. Drawing up every ounce of courage I had, I lifted my foot off the ground and climbed onto the first bar, then the second, and soon I had reached Jensen. "Don't look down," he told me. He always told me not to look down but I always looked down anyways. I liked seeing the ground get further away, the world getting smaller and smaller.

Climbing that tower were one of the scariest moments of my life but I had never felt anything like what I felt when we reached the top. Together we had defeated the dark, luminous tower that threatened our confidence and success. Another feeling came when my feet reached the ground again- safety, security, and accomplishment. Truth is, Jensen would have made it up that tower just find by himself but it was scaling the beast together that gave both of us the strength and courage we needed.

Famous First and Last Words

"In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since."

These famous first words came from F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel The Great Gatsby. Fitzgerald was born on September 24, 1896 and died December 21, 1940. The Great Gatsby was published in 1925 and the book takes place in the roaring twenties, arguably the height of the American Dream. The novel is narrated by the character Jim Caraway who recalls the events that centered around his rich neighbor and good friend Jay Gatsby. Gatsby was from a poor family that lived on a farm but was able to gain his own wealth and by the time he returned to Long Island from the war he was filthy rich. He claims that he gained everything all for a girl named Daisy, who he met when he was young. Gatsby is tragically in love with the married Daisy and does everything he can to get her back.

The Great Gatsby is my favorite book. There is so much imagery, symbolism, and meaning to everything Fitzgerald writes in the novel. It was the first piece of true American literature that I've read and I fell in love with Fitzgerald's voice. Each of his characters are well defined and it is easy to grow very attached to them and feel very strong feelings towards them. The Great Gatsby inspires me to write.

Six Word Stories

I'm always here yet always moving.


I treasure silence when it comes.


You can't be anyone but yourself.


Live presently
Dream presently
Do presently


Happiness is sunshine and a cat.

A two way friendship covers miles.

I make my art an adventure.

Memorable Passage

"And as I sat there, brooding on the old unknown world, I thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning——

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

-F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

I have always loved Fitzgerald's style of writing and the underlying theme of The Great Gatsby. This was the first book I read that inspired me to write something truly great- a book that meant something. Before, I had written simply to entertain. Now I have to find purpose in my writing in order to continue the story. I used to think more about my characters and their importance to the story, but after reading The Great Gatsby I am more focused on the impact the characters and their story have on the readers. Fitzgerald taught me what a four dimensional novel looked like and how important it is to have purpose in your writing. 

Quotes

Dream Threads

I close my eyes and he is there, standing on my front sidewalk, reaching out to me with a sheet of paper in his left hand. How lucky I am to continue seeing his face. I may have seen him for the last time during the day, but he is still alive in my dreams, as he always has been. I take the paper from his hand, which is sealed with a crimson emblem. I do not open it and instead wrap my arms over his shoulders. The hug is returned, but only briefly. I wish to hug him forever, but he steps back. "I have to go," he tells me. I protest as he turns away. He can not leave, not again. His back is towards me and he walks back down the street. I open the letter in my hand, hand written ink splattered over it. As I read I can feel the distance that grows between him and me. The letter simply tells me that I am loved and to avoid loneliness. When I finish it, I see that he is at the far end of the street, still walking away. I sprint forward but my legs take me nowhere. As I try to walk out towards him, the further I;d walk, the further he'd get away from me.

If I were in Charge of the World

If I were in charge of the world 

I'd cancel sickness, early mornings, disrespect, and also Donald Trump.

If I were in charge of the world 
there'd be longer nights, safer streets, and people who love over hate.

If I were in charge of the world
you wouldn't have children without a home.
You wouldn't have abandoned pets on the road.
You wouldn't have the sex trade
or "You can't walk out at night alone."
You wouldn't even have fear.

If I were in charge of the world
chocolate would be a vegetable.
All men, women, and children would understand that we are equal and different.
And a person who sometimes forgot to change the litter box
and sometimes forgot to turn the light off
would still be allowed to be
in charge of the world.

I Sing

I sing for those that do not have a voice

The innocent
The scared
The abused

I sing for equality
The discriminated
The abused
The outlawed

I sing against the wrong
Against stereotypes
Against ignorance
Against rape, neglect, cruelty, hate, and selfishness

I sing for safe and honest living
For love
For protection
For empathy

I sing for the need of creativity
authenticity
individuality
originality

I sing for the hope of a better future
I sing for the hope of a loving world
I sing for the hope of redemption
I sing for the hope of a saving grace and
I sing for forgiveness.

Dreams and the Law of Attraction

All my dreaming happens 20 minutes before I fall asleep. I dream of happiness and of feeling whole. I dream of security and belonging as I hug my teddy bear tight. I dream a lot about people I wish I knew better. I dream that I am closer to someone than I really am. I convince myself that if I dream long and hard enough then it will come true. 

The "Law of Attraction" my mother calls it- although I've always thought her theory was bullshit. When I was younger, I endured many "Law of Attraction" lectures. She would tell me that if I can just keep picturing myself doing what I want to do, then it will eventually happen. She believed that one could will something into reality. If I wanted to be a business woman, for example, that I would just have to keep picturing myself in an office working with my colleagues- just keep day dreaming- and it will come true. This theory, however much I wish it to be true, has fault. How long must one wait for their dreams to come true? How can anything happen without action? I'm not willing to sit idly by, convinced that one day I would get what I want- it just won't happen.

Even still, I dream of what I do not have. I dream of scenarios that will lift my spirits or cure me of anxiety. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, the dream will continue into REM and when I wake up it's almost as if my dream is real- but just for a moment. Then I must face my day and look for the happy things around me in reality, however hard it can be.