Bad attempt at writing a "short" story, Word Count:893

I love creative writing. I haven't done it in a while though. Matt had to do one for an exam or something and he was throwing ideas around. One of them was this:

"Teenage girl who wakes up in hospital with schizophrenia and sees a man who tells her not to trust the doctors etc. There’s a boy across the room who is always asleep. Describe the image of the parents surrounding the boy, visitng him etc. In the end, the boy wakes up but the teenage girl fades away as she is a hallucination."

I told him to do it but he didn't know how to approach it. So I took a shot and here was my result (no judgement please =]):

“They’re coming Sarah”


“He’ll smother you”


“Don’t trust him”


“Don’t trust him”


Greens eyes snap open as a frail girl of no more than 15 jerks up right, panting. She clenches her eyes again and press her hands to her ears. The voices woke her up again. 


Taking a few more deep breaths, she suddenly becomes aware of another presence in the room. Turning her head towards the usually vacant bed next to her, she’s surprised to find a huddled shape under the covers. He was back.


It felt like a lifetime since he was last admitted to San Diego’s Institution where the freaks and psychos of society resided. She’s never seen the colours of his eyes, heard the sound of his voice, seen him awake. Every time he was admitted, it was in her room and he was always asleep.


Sarah scratched her tangled brown hair in curiosity. She’s about to hop out of bed to try to wake the boy until she heard footsteps come down the hallway outside, getting closer and closer to her door.


“Hide Sarah”


“They’re going to get you”


“Take you away forever and make you disappear”


Fear suffocated her and she quickly laid back under her covers, facing away from her door, pretending that sleep had taken her.


“....but doctor, what other choices are there?” A woman’s voice, quiet but desperate.


“Is he going to be ok?” A calming tenor voice of a man who was filled with concern.


“I’m afraid I can’t say anymore until the results come back.” A voice that alerted something within Sarah’s mind like a fire alarm. It was him, the one that the voices said were going to make her disappear as if she was nothing. “I’ll leave you two some time with him. Visiting hours end at 6.” 


The sounds of breathing and quiet weeping filled the room. Sarah shifted and turned in her scratchy, sterile sheets towards the boy. She froze as my bed creaked and echoed through the room. The couple didn’t take their eyes off the boy, they didn’t show any acknowledgment of her existence in that room. She relaxed and studied the couple. They were obviously the boys parents, showing motherly concern and fatherly care. The boy had his father’s face, sharp and strong but he had his mothers sun kissed hair. It made Sarah wonder whether he had her stormy blue eyes too.


They stayed until visiting hours were up. Not once did they look Sarah’s way, too worried about their son’s wellbeing.


Time passed when at last Sarah had the urge to talk to the unconscious  boy. She told him how lucky he was to have parents, that she didn’t have parents or at least, she didn’t think she did. She told him to be careful, not to trust the “doctor”, not to take the doctor’s poison. It would only make him worse, it would only make his nightmares come to life, it would only make people disappear. The boy’s only response was his steady breathing.


Days passed, then weeks, then months. Every day his parents would visit him, ignoring Sarah completely. They must have been so wrapped up in their grief about their son’s condition that they couldn’t see anything but him. After they left, Sarah would talk to him about her fears, talk about her voices, to her voices and about the evil doctor.


Sarah suddenly awakened one day. Something was different. She sees Thomas’, she learnt his name through his parents’ visits, mother tying up the shades. Something was different. His mother was...happy. His father was pacing, as usual, but something was different about him too. Instead of pacing in worry, there was a slight bounce in his step and a smile on his face that Sarah had never seen before. Another entered the room. Him. Thomas’ mother rushed to him.


“Are you sure it works doctor?” She was practically breathless with excitement.


A twisted grin marred the villain’s face, “I assure you that the effect is almost instant” His hands busy themselves with a syringe full of a blue liquid. A cold pit of dread filled her stomach.


“Don’t let them do it Sarah”


“You’ll disappear”


“You’ll lose Thomas”


“Forever”


“Forever”


Sarah was frozen in her bed and witnessed her fate as the wretched man injected Thomas with the poison that would take him away with her. She instantly felt weak, defeated. Sarah clenched her eyes in agony until she heard a foreign noise she never thought she’d hear. A groan. From a boy of 13. Sarah’s confused eyes jerked up and saw him move, struggling to rise. His mother rushed to his side and helped him sit up.


Why did the man save Thomas? Wasn’t he going to take him away from her? Sarah felt so strange and looked through her hands. Her fading hands. Her fading body. Realization dawned on Sarah as she looked to Thomas. Their eyes clashed.


There was only one thought that went through Sarah as her body flickered. ‘His eyes are blue’. Thomas had a grateful smile, looking straight at Sarah.


“Thomas? What are you looking at” His mother looked at the blank space that Thomas was looking at, afraid he relapsed.


“Nothing, mum, I just thought I saw an old friend.” His smile stayed as Sarah disappeared from his mind. Forever.

New (Im?)possible Dream Job

I want to create a place for people like me. I figured out this term that I set myself up for failure with the subjects I chose to do for my HSC. Which, as you know from my last massive rant, I find is completely unfair of the education system.

I want to create place that doesn't shun or judge what kinds of subjects you do, nurtures your passions and helps and teaches. It's got the same kind of motto as the school in the movie 'Accepted':
"What do YOU want to learn?"

I'd ask people what they wanted to learn and tell them to write it up on a public display so that others can sign up for it. It can be anything from the usual to the different: Maths, English, Science, History, Skateboarding, Culinary Arts, Art, Music, How to pick up girls/guys, How to make friends, Body painting.

There'd be actual teachers or supporters or guides or whatever, but it also relies on students teaching other students. Exams and assignments are optional but projects of some sort are mandatory.

Basically, it's not a school per say where you attend it every day for  6 hours or something. It's just a place that's always there for after school, weekends and stuff to help and support you in the fields that you would like be a part of one day or to help you get on through life. Because we always ask that question in classes: "How is this going to help me in the real world?"

I don't know, that's (one of) my stupid dream I guess.

If what I post makes you upset, should it make me upset? Should I edit everything I say in case my thoughts offend or disagree? I sometimes don't know why I even bother writing here anymore. Useless.

I can't

not anymore. Killing myself over so many things.

http://leloveimage.blogspot.com/2011/08/moments.html

"I fell in love with the kind of guy my parents warned me against. He didn’t come from a good family and he spent every minute of the day working for every penny he could get, he used to apologise that he couldn’t buy me diamonds or pretty things or a big house to call our own, but it was only when i met him i realised the best things in life really are free. i realised relationships aren’t about the gifts your given, it’s the moments on the country drives when you tell yourself if they ignore your directions once more you will beat them to death with the A-Z, it’s when in furniture shops and they spend hours measuring bookcases when all you want to do is look at sofas, it’s when they forget to record your TV programmes but suggest now you can watch the match together, its being questioned about all your past relationships and threatening to go back to them, it’s not making the reservations at the restaurant so you end up with fish and chips instead. But it’s when they admit your directions were the right ones, when they let you ramble on about cushions and fabrics and designs without complaining, when they spend the match doing funny commentaries and explaining the rules every time you ask without getting frustrated, its arguing about exes but being glad they’re your exes and he’s your future, it’s eating the fish and chips while you tell each other about your childhood and fears and ambitions and thoughts, it’s also when they know exactly how you like your cups of tea, and when they understand when to hold you during the sad parts of your favourite films. And it’s that moment when you have a stupid argument about putting the red socks in the washing machine with the white shirts and you threaten to leave, but then you look round at this little nest and world you’ve created together and you see the bookcase where his Stephen King’s are nestled in-between your Bronte’s, and the DVDs stacked along the wall with your DVDs hidden in his cases that would take days to sort out, it’s the two Xbox controllers plugged in from when you last teamed up to take on his friends, it’s the sofa where you each have your ‘side’ his with the TV remote and yours with the cushions, it’s seeing the photo album which has pictures of both your pasts and presents – where your childhoods are next to each other protected by a plastic sheet, it’s his clothing lying about that you’ve slowly adopted as your own, it’s realising that not just your belongings but your worlds have become connected, you’re so much a part of each other that you could leave because it’s be leaving part of your heart behind too. So you shut the door and walk back towards him, and he says he’ll put the kettle on and makes 2 cups of tea, one weak with 2 sugars and one strong with none – exactly as you’ve always been. 

So you could have all the diamonds in the world but without the laughter and the moments of madness and the knowledge that they love you it’s not worth a penny. You’re a beautiful beautiful person and you deserve to feel loved. "


I think I'm in love this entry alone.

I haven't done a rant in a while, but recent events and fate coincidences have left me no choice.

I am so mad at this education system. Before you judge and say "Oh no another whiny teenage girl who isn't doing so great at school" well I'll admit it, I'm not doing that great and I am being whiny. But seriously. This isn't just about me.

I frustrates me to no end the hierarchy of the education system. All around the world education has the same priorities:
Maths and sciences and languages (chemistry, english, physics etc)
Humanities (Business, history, law etc.)
The Arts (Music, dance etc.)
So apparently, our intellect and genius is based and valued on what we're specifically good at. So if you're amazing at art and only average at maths, the maths student has a greater chance of getting a good enough score to be accepted in universities and colleges rather then the art student.

I may be biased as an art student but I know that I'm not the only arts or humanitarian student whose scores are dragging their future down just because the subject we're doing is simply not considered as important as the maths, sciences and languages.

People are talented at different things. People love different things. Why are we judged on such a harsh basis? I'm doing art, society and culture, music, ancient history, modern history, advanced english and studies of religion. That is 2 arts subjects, 4 humanitarian subjects and english is my only "advanced" subject that will (kind of) guarantee me some high rank. Words cannot describe the dread I have for my HSC because I know that my mark, ATAR and rank will be dragged down significantly because I am doing these subjects.

This discourages people to doing subjects of the arts. This discourages creativity. It's like comparing apples and oranges and then proceeding to throw them at the students whose ATAR isn't high enough for uni. I understand that we need to encourage people to become like engineers and doctors in our world but we need artists and musicians just as much.

From the top of your head, in about 5 minutes or so, compare a list of famous mathematicians and scientists known throughout history to the famous artists and musicians.

Albert Einstein
Galileo
Tesla
Isaac Newton
Thomas Edison
and probably 3 or 4 more

Leonardo Da Vinci

Raphael

Michelangelo

Donatello 

(yes I just named TMNT)

Vincent Van Gogh

Picasso

Andy Warhol

Beethoven

Mozart

Tchaikovsky

 and probably 3 or 4 more

That was my list. So, why is art and music not as valued as science and math? The arts have obviously impacted on society and history just as much as the sciences. So wtf?

A man told a story in a video, which I shall link later.

There was a little girl in the 1930s and she was always fidgeting, distracting people in class and couldn't concentrate on work. The school wrote to her mother and said she was incapable of learning (ADHD wasn't "invented" back then). Her mother took her to the doctors and described the symptoms. He told the girl that he and her mother had to talk privately. So he and her mother walked out the room but he turned the radio on first. He told her mother to just watch her after they left the room. The little girl immediately got off her feet and started dancing around. He told her mother that she was not an idiot but she was a dancer. Her mother entered her into a dance school. The little girl later became a ballerina, excelled at a prestigious dance college, choreographed for the musical "Cats" and "The Phantom of the Opera", opened her own dancing company and is now a multi dollar billionaire.

These days, they'd diagnose the child with ADHD or just give the children some medication and tell them to settle down

It boggles me how things could have turned out if the doctor said there was something seriously wrong with her brain. How history would have changed. How lucky it was that the doctor valued the arts himself and was able to see the talent in the little girl who turned out to be a woman who created history.

We should at least categorise and/or find a better and more fair way to mark, score and judge the work of students, especially in the HSC. 

"Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." 

— Albert Einstein (Yeah, you read right....EINSTEIN)

http://www.ted.com/talks/ken_robinson_says_schools_kill_creativity.html

I cried

I cried when my sister was telling me the story of this
I bawled watching this
I teared up explaining this to my friends
I let a few tears drop in class while watching it again.
No words can express how this makes me feel

I reckon the person I will be in 5-10 years will hate the person I am now. If I met me, I'd probably punch myself in the face. Just saying.

It's a secret no one tells;

One day it's heaven, one day it's hell.

It's no fairy tale;

Take it from me,

That's the way it's supposed to be.

The sky was perfect today.

Photo interval of random images that have no relation to each other, whose purpose is to make my blog look non-repetitive and semi-hispter/indie. Cause, you know, I can.

I'd love a Tony+Pepper relationship. The kind of relationship where two people are completely comfortable with each other and who the other person is. They see what they get and they're completely cool with that. There are weird aspects in each person that only the other can understand. They know everything there is about each other but they'll find a way to surprise the other anyway. They can be two independent, amazing people on their own but they can't live or survive without the other one.

A Tony and Pepper relationship.

It is what it is.

http://mols.tumblr.com/post/8268819825

Contrary to popular belief, guys don't all look for that pretty bimbo. Sure, their eyes will linger on her physique for a while longer than others and sure, they may take her home with them but no man would want to give his heart to that stunning bimbo. Believe it or not, men do dream of love much like women do. Their desires for affection are not as openly discussed and therefore they are believed to be none existent but I assure you that this is not true. A man desire's a certain type of girl. A game-changer.

The game changer is a seemingly normal girl that a man might meet at any seemingly normal place. In a coffee shop, at school, shopping for clothes in that vintage store down the street, in your building, even at a bar. A man will often stumble upon the game-changer by chance but will know she is one as soon as he finds her. She'll captivate him immediately and he'll feel like someone has woken him up from a long slumber with a bucket of ice cold water. She'll inspire him, she'll make him grow (not change), and she'll steal his heart away in an instant. She'll make him feel stronger at times, and completely weak at others. She'll terrify him but also give him the courage to be brave. She'll make him want to be a better man; make him want to preform grand gestures out of love. And when she leaves, she'll break him as he has never been broken before. He will then either go two ways: He'll either avoid the game-changers and stick with the pretty bimbo's or he'll vow to find the game-changer that will stay with him, that will let him love her for all of eternity.

The most tragic thing about you game-changers is that you all think of yourselves as "average" when really, you are the most extraordinary creatures to walk the earth. You are beautiful because you have the ability to make someone else beautiful. You are beautiful, because you have the ability to turn a right bastard in a gentleman. You are beautiful, because you change someone's game and, in turn, the course of their life.


I'm sorry for being so tedious but I needed you to understand what I meant when I tell you that after reading your blog, I've come to the conclusion that you are a game-changer. I envy the man that manages to capture your heart, and I wish that fate would have allowed it to be me.

Sincerely,
A man who's heart you've changed with just a blog.

Anonymous