Project Proposal:
I'm going to continue with my pieces from last year that I did as my final project. I'm just going to pick up where I left off.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Twin Day
Sam and his twin sister had always experienced the usual sychronization many pairs of twins experience. If Sam scraped his knee, his sister would cry. If Sam's parents yelled at him, his sister would feel personally offended and fight in his defense. If Sam had a broken heart, his sister didn't feel quite right, and tended to mope around the house eating chocolate and comforting icecream. So when Sam's twin was involved in a hit and run in which she was mauled by a truck, Sam didn't feel anything. Instead, he felt brain dead.
Sam's parents went through the standard grieving process. Denial, acceptance, and moving on to the best of their ability. Sam did, too. However, what people didn't understand was the lack of activity going on in his brain was barely connected to his dead twin. His thoughts dedicated themselves to her at times during the day. When passing her untouched bedroom, or seeing her empty desk in the chemistry class they both happened to be in. It wasn't that he was consumed of thoughts of her, or that he felt numb from the pain of her death. Instead, it was a deadly feeling. His thoughts showed an endless black pit. Weeks of this forced him to come to the conclusion that his sister had gone to some type of hell.
Hannah opened her eyes to gusty winds and sand blowing into her eyes. The world whizzed by her as she was swept into a tunnel of...cars, trees, and buildings. It was only after she picked her head up and turned around that she realized she was on a highway. With a shriek, she fell off of the windshield of a car, rolling onto the street. To her right, another body flew into the air and landed besides her. Realizing she did not have a scratch, Hannah sprinted, tripping over her feet, to the person laying on the pavement. Hannah watched as a pool of blood had begun to collect in a sphere around the matted hair of a girl.
"Are you okay?!"
The girl failed to respond. Panicking, Hannah reached for the cellphone she kept in her right ugg boot. Coincidently, it had begun to ring just as she took it out to dial 911. It was her mom's number.
"Hello mom? There's been an accident. I'm okay please call 911 I dont know what to do I'm all alone here and some girl is on the floor bleeding and not answering me and I'm freaking out I don't even know where the driver of the car went..."
"Hannah?"
"Mom, did you hear anything I just said?"
"Hannah, I think we have a bad connection. I just wanted to check where you are. It's getting late and I can't hear anything you're saying. So if you hear me, just text me when you're coming home please."
"Mom? I'm here! Mom..."
The line went dead. Hannah quickly dialed 911. When the operator answered, she too could not hear Hannah's voice on the other end of the line. Panicked, Hannah turned her attention to the girl sprawled out onto the floor. She felt her cold skin, and noticed her lips had turned a deep purple. Reluctantly, Hannah turned the girl to her side, as her face was smashed into the pavement. She was met with blood-crusted eyelashes and a nose so badly mangled that white bone showed through the skin. However, this could not prevent Hannah from realizing the obvious. This girl had her face.
Sam and his twin sister had always experienced the usual sychronization many pairs of twins experience. If Sam scraped his knee, his sister would cry. If Sam's parents yelled at him, his sister would feel personally offended and fight in his defense. If Sam had a broken heart, his sister didn't feel quite right, and tended to mope around the house eating chocolate and comforting icecream. So when Sam's twin was involved in a hit and run in which she was mauled by a truck, Sam didn't feel anything. Instead, he felt brain dead.
Sam's parents went through the standard grieving process. Denial, acceptance, and moving on to the best of their ability. Sam did, too. However, what people didn't understand was the lack of activity going on in his brain was barely connected to his dead twin. His thoughts dedicated themselves to her at times during the day. When passing her untouched bedroom, or seeing her empty desk in the chemistry class they both happened to be in. It wasn't that he was consumed of thoughts of her, or that he felt numb from the pain of her death. Instead, it was a deadly feeling. His thoughts showed an endless black pit. Weeks of this forced him to come to the conclusion that his sister had gone to some type of hell.
Hannah opened her eyes to gusty winds and sand blowing into her eyes. The world whizzed by her as she was swept into a tunnel of...cars, trees, and buildings. It was only after she picked her head up and turned around that she realized she was on a highway. With a shriek, she fell off of the windshield of a car, rolling onto the street. To her right, another body flew into the air and landed besides her. Realizing she did not have a scratch, Hannah sprinted, tripping over her feet, to the person laying on the pavement. Hannah watched as a pool of blood had begun to collect in a sphere around the matted hair of a girl.
"Are you okay?!"
The girl failed to respond. Panicking, Hannah reached for the cellphone she kept in her right ugg boot. Coincidently, it had begun to ring just as she took it out to dial 911. It was her mom's number.
"Hello mom? There's been an accident. I'm okay please call 911 I dont know what to do I'm all alone here and some girl is on the floor bleeding and not answering me and I'm freaking out I don't even know where the driver of the car went..."
"Hannah?"
"Mom, did you hear anything I just said?"
"Hannah, I think we have a bad connection. I just wanted to check where you are. It's getting late and I can't hear anything you're saying. So if you hear me, just text me when you're coming home please."
"Mom? I'm here! Mom..."
The line went dead. Hannah quickly dialed 911. When the operator answered, she too could not hear Hannah's voice on the other end of the line. Panicked, Hannah turned her attention to the girl sprawled out onto the floor. She felt her cold skin, and noticed her lips had turned a deep purple. Reluctantly, Hannah turned the girl to her side, as her face was smashed into the pavement. She was met with blood-crusted eyelashes and a nose so badly mangled that white bone showed through the skin. However, this could not prevent Hannah from realizing the obvious. This girl had her face.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Pajama Day
I dont know anyone who actually wears pajamas. In fact, they may be as big of a ripoff as expensive valentines day chocolate. There really is no point to it. I can't think of one reason why you would need special clothes to go to sleep in. I'd much rather wear a snuggie to sleep sleep or one of my dads big tshirts. The only times pajamas come in handy are 1) Sleepovers where a lot of pictures are being taken and 2) Pajama day. It's all for commercial purposes.
I also don't know why pajamas can't be worn in the middle of the day, or why they're considered cute or anything of that sort. They're literally baggy pieces of material. I'd much rather go to lacrosse practice in baggy pjs than tight under armour. Then again, this is my opinion. I remember being around five years old when I received my first night gown. Naturally, my grandma bought it for me from a Disney Store to match her blue linen tablecloth night gown that must have been purchased from a curtain store. I thought I was Sleeping Beauty whenever I fell asleep, until the day I realized I wasn't and that my old nightgown with the grape juice stain down the front didn't suit my needs any longer. I then graduated to a two piece, thermal pajama set that looked more like long underwear than anything else. This lasted until my first sleepover, when every other girl had tiedye sweatpant pajamas with words on the back such as "SOCCER" or "CHEER!", when half of them didn't play soccer or were a member of a cheerleading team. These pajamas cost more than regular clothing, and I had to ask every member in my family to buy them for me before realizing the softest person of them all is my grandpa, who would do anything as long as I looked at him a certain way. After this fad of pajamas went out of style, I had had enough. This is why, to this this day, I wear a baggy tshirt to bed or a sweatshirt. Nothing more, nothing less.
I dont know anyone who actually wears pajamas. In fact, they may be as big of a ripoff as expensive valentines day chocolate. There really is no point to it. I can't think of one reason why you would need special clothes to go to sleep in. I'd much rather wear a snuggie to sleep sleep or one of my dads big tshirts. The only times pajamas come in handy are 1) Sleepovers where a lot of pictures are being taken and 2) Pajama day. It's all for commercial purposes.
I also don't know why pajamas can't be worn in the middle of the day, or why they're considered cute or anything of that sort. They're literally baggy pieces of material. I'd much rather go to lacrosse practice in baggy pjs than tight under armour. Then again, this is my opinion. I remember being around five years old when I received my first night gown. Naturally, my grandma bought it for me from a Disney Store to match her blue linen tablecloth night gown that must have been purchased from a curtain store. I thought I was Sleeping Beauty whenever I fell asleep, until the day I realized I wasn't and that my old nightgown with the grape juice stain down the front didn't suit my needs any longer. I then graduated to a two piece, thermal pajama set that looked more like long underwear than anything else. This lasted until my first sleepover, when every other girl had tiedye sweatpant pajamas with words on the back such as "SOCCER" or "CHEER!", when half of them didn't play soccer or were a member of a cheerleading team. These pajamas cost more than regular clothing, and I had to ask every member in my family to buy them for me before realizing the softest person of them all is my grandpa, who would do anything as long as I looked at him a certain way. After this fad of pajamas went out of style, I had had enough. This is why, to this this day, I wear a baggy tshirt to bed or a sweatshirt. Nothing more, nothing less.
Friday, May 14, 2010
IN RESPONSE TO:
"Breakeven" by The Script
You say I left with my suitcase
As if it weren't already open,
On the bed,
With nothing to pack but toxic memories.
What you mean to say,
Is that I have all the baggage
The truth is, hearts don't breakeven
Overnight you become a scale of weight
Splintering a heart with the precision of a glass cutter
To me it felt more like shattering
You are incapable of weighing the shards
When they disintegrate to dust
If I was the finest part of you,
Then what are you in truth?
Siamese twins share a heart,
Conjoined in a bond without the option
Of dispatch
The thump of the heart they share is in synch...
Whereas I,
Have a heart that beats to the innocence
Of a lullaby
While you,
pound to the guilt
Of heavy, heavy, metal
If you were barely breathing,
You wouldn't sing of false accusations
To bring forth your guilt in me
If we shared a heart,
I would offer the fragments for weighing
But we don't
"Breakeven" by The Script
You say I left with my suitcase
As if it weren't already open,
On the bed,
With nothing to pack but toxic memories.
What you mean to say,
Is that I have all the baggage
The truth is, hearts don't breakeven
Overnight you become a scale of weight
Splintering a heart with the precision of a glass cutter
To me it felt more like shattering
You are incapable of weighing the shards
When they disintegrate to dust
If I was the finest part of you,
Then what are you in truth?
Siamese twins share a heart,
Conjoined in a bond without the option
Of dispatch
The thump of the heart they share is in synch...
Whereas I,
Have a heart that beats to the innocence
Of a lullaby
While you,
pound to the guilt
Of heavy, heavy, metal
If you were barely breathing,
You wouldn't sing of false accusations
To bring forth your guilt in me
If we shared a heart,
I would offer the fragments for weighing
But we don't
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