Monday, February 15, 2010


You know, it has only recently occured to me how frighteningly close I am to college.
I've only just one more year of high school and I have still no idea what I want to do with my life.
In theory, I could write stories for a living (if that is indeed an actual career path), but what if I suffer an unfortunate and permanent case of writer's block, and thusly would be unable to support myself, spiraling into a deep depression that eventually ends up with me being one of those crazy homeless people you find on street corners who spits at passers-by?
Or maybe I will be able to think of something to write, but when I bring it in to be looked at by a publishing house, an employee will look at it and say something along the lines of, "This is a terrible story that is significantly less adorable than you think it is, and if that was not enough to convince me not to publish your story, you also have something gross and unsightly in your left nostril. Rather than offering you a tissue, I shall give you back your story to blow your nose in, for that is all it is good for. Good day to you, madam."
Both of which seem like unpleasant scenarios, but honestly, I cannot think of anything else I'd rather do, aside from lying in bed like some sort of paranoid, insecure lump all day.
Which is why I'm kind of freaking out about the whole thing.
But I suppose I'll figure something out sooner or later.
Good night to you, dear Blog.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Fable Attempt.

Right, well, this one was for part of my Creative Writing mid-term. We had to pick an old proverb (mine was "attempt not impossibilities") and try to make a fable out of it.

It was a beautiful spring morning and all of the birds were out soaring in the sky. Turtle gazed wistfully up at them. "Why do I have to have this annoyingly heavy shell?" he grumbled to myself. "I could never fly like a bird with a shell as weighty as this!" (It was true. Turtle's stumpy little legs could barely support him and his shell while walking; what chance did they have if he tried flying?) "But your shell is so useful! It also protects you!" Hen told him, in an attempt to make Turtle feel better. "Oh yeah, it's great..." Bear said, unenthusiastically. (He had to listen to the whole "I want to fly" spiel every morning, and, frankly, he was getting a bit tired of it. We can't all be as patient as Hen.) "I don't want to be protected, though! I want to be freeee!" Turtle threw his stubby legs up towards the sky as if he was some sort of scaly, green Superman.
"It seems to me," Fox said mischieviously, popping his head out from the bush that he was rather rudely eavesdropping in, "that were you to step out of your shell, you'd be able to fly." All of the animals stared at Fox, wondering what he was up to. (He was always up to something.) Though, Turtle, desperate in his desire to fly, asked, "You really think that I could?" Fox grinned broadly. "Oh, of course I do!" he said, unconvincingly. "See, what you have to do is take off your shell and then find a big hill to jump off of! That way, the wind will catch you, and you'll be soaring through the air in no time!" Hen squinted at him angrily and squawked, "Oh, come on! You don't really think that Turtle is stupid enough to believe that, do you?" Fox jerked his head towards Turtle in response. His eyes were filled with stars, and anyone could clearly see that he was, in fact, stupid enough to believe that. "Come on, Turtle," Fox called out, clearly enjoying being evil, "let's go find a hill big enough for you to jump off of!" "Okay!" Turtle beamed happily, jumped out of his shell and streaked after Fox as Hen and Bear stood there gaping.
"Gosh," Turtle gulped, staring down over the steep drop of the hill. "You really think I can do it, Fox?" Fox attemped to hold back his laughed and managed to say, "Sure I do, Turtle. I believe in you!" Turtle, innocently fueled by Fox's insincere words, took a deep breath and a running jump off the hill. "I can fly!" he shrieked joyfully. He couldn't. After the words were out of his scaly little mouth, Turtle plummeted like a green rock towards the grassy meadow below. "Oof!" he hit the ground with a thud. Fox, after he was done with his immature laughing fit, helped turtle to his feet, dusted him off and smiled mischieviously, saying, "Attempt not impossibilities, little one."

Bluh. Sorry if the story sounds a mite clich├ęd, but it was my first attempt at a fable.
Besides, it's been awhile since my last update, so I wanted to post something, at least.
All righty, that's about it.
Adieu, Blog.