New Project

Recently I've discovered a new Christian radio station in my area and I'm totally loving it! The radio station I've been listening to for years has been rather disappointing as of late (playing the same style of songs over and over, tons of commercials, etc.), and it actually got to the point where I thought I could TELL when a song was "Christian" after hearing the first few bars. That sounds really judgmental, doesn't it? Argh. That's not how I meant it, but for the sake of this post, we'll skip over that part. Anyways, a few weeks ago, I was surfing around on the radio waves and heard a little clip of a song. I didn't know what song it was or even the band that played it, but the lyrics made me think "Hm. It sounds like they're talking about God." So I stuck with the channel. I heard a couple more songs and each one I heard also sounded kinda God-themed, lyrics-wise, but each of them was really different. They played an R&B track, some hardcore rock, techno, and hip-hop. I was like OMG! SCORE! New fave radio station. :)

This radio station has really gotten me back into artists like Skillet and Stellar Kart, and introduced me to new ones like Thousand Foot Krutch, Plumb, and Lecrae. (All great Christian artists, you should go check them out, even if you're not Christian. Skillet and Thousand Foot Krutch are rock/hard rock bands, Stellar Kart is sort of punk-rockish, Plumb is a techno-electronica, acoustic, all-over-the-place artist, and Lecrae is a rapper/singer.)

Most notably, I really started loving Skillet's song "Hero." I was introduced to this song by my lovely boyfriend maybe a year or two ago, and I loved it then because 1) the lead singer was the bass player (and I'm a bass player), 2) the drummer was a girl, and 3) the drummer girl also sang (but not while playing the drums, even though that would've been awesome). It fell off my radar after a while, but now it's back with a vengeance and I've been playing it practically non-stop on my iPod. While it's playing, I'm imagining a music video playing in my head. Not the one that the band made for it (although that one is also pretty awesome), but one I'm just making up as I listen to the music and the words. I really want to make this music video in real life, but I dunno if I can do it. The passion is there, but the logistics of the thing are intimidating. Cameras, sets, permits to shoot, actors, time, money, ARGH! Maybe someday, but for now, I'll have to settle for putting it down in words. When I finish it, I'll be sure to put it up! :)

Here is the original music vid.

A big thank you to all those brave men and women serving in the police force, firefighting brigades and the armed forces. You are all heroes.

Plans for the Summer

1) Visit the Shedd aquarium in Chicago. Have an awesome time.
2) Build a Rube Goldberg machine. Record it working and post it on Youtube. Have an awesome time.
3) Make a pair of Jedi costumes for my boyfriend and myself for next Halloween. Have an awesome time.
4) Go to the Dells. Maybe Mt. Olympus, maybe Wizard's Quest. Either way, have an awesome time.
5) Ride the carousel at Ella's Deli. Have an awesome time.
6) Re-watch all of the Lord of the Rings and Star Wars movies. Memorize whole chunks of dialogue from them. Make a fool of myself reciting them in public. Have an awesome time.
7) Read crap-tons of new books. Venture out of the "Young Adults" section in the library. Feel more mature. Have an awesome time.
8) Write a novel. Or at least part of one. Have an awesome time.
9) Bike around the lake. Feel accomplished. Have an awesome time.
10) Have an awesome time.

Your Thoughts on the Internet

Just a quick question here...

How much do you trust the internet with your thoughts? I'm not talking about PRIVATE PERSONAL INFORMATION here. No Social Security Numbers or full names or addresses. Just your thoughts. Your ideas. Your opinions about the world. How much would you reveal to the intertubes?

Wondering...

The Laws of Likeability

What are your laws of likeability? You know, those rules by which you judge a person's potential to be awesome or how much you like them? I think each person's laws are different from another's. For some people it's list. You're either on it or you're not, and you have to earn your place. Maybe for others it's a model. The more you are like this ideal or this perfect person, the more awesome you'll be to this individual. Personally, I've decided to classify my "Law of Likeability" as a sort of scale. Here's how it works.

The first thing I take into account when I first meet a person is his or her physical features. I'm not being shallow here. This is completely natural and logical. (By what else are you supposed to judge a complete stranger?) This will give them a preliminary placement on the scale of awesome. Granted, I do try to give people the benefit of the doubt here and I also try to look at the brighter side of things. (Using myself as an example, my teeth aren't very white, but I have beautiful eyes.)

As I get to know a person more, they will move up or down on the scale. Funny, passionate and/or kind? Up! Petty, spiteful and/or manipulative? Down. Notice here that physical attributes still matter. The fact is, they will always matter. To everyone. Except maybe blind people, but I'm not sure on that one. Beauty is, of course, subjective, (see below for one of my many and ever-changing interpretations) and as time goes on and I get to know a person even more by spending time with him or her and making memories, the effect of  physical beauty is less and less in terms of the scale.

Habits and lifestyle also affect my thoughts on a person's likeability. The general rule is this: the more we have in common, the more I like you. Thusly, smokers and heavy drinkers, perpetually lazy people, and Negative Nancies will constantly be moving down the scale, while people who love children, attend church and have a taste for good, clean fun (like going to amusement parks, whitewater rafting, and watching movies) will always be moving up. Again, I should clarify that, even if we don't have a lot in common, I can still try to be open to your lifestyle and understanding towards your personal decisions, and we can still be friends. It'll just be more difficult with you than people who I have more in common with.

And lastly, intellectual awesomeness. This is a little bit of a slippery subject, since I feel I'm a little bit contradictory when it comes to this. People who agree with me with regards to thought processes and ideologies and people who challenge me in the way I think of things and view the world are appealing to me. It's always nice when my thoughts and ideas are validated and understood by another person, but then again, I do like it when someone shows me something from a different point of view or gives me something to consider that I never have before. I like understanding things.

All these things combine to place people on a 'scale' of sorts. Your placement sometimes drops or goes up, depending on how I feel on any given day and what I'm looking for. (ie: Fun, adventuresome people are less likable to me on days when I'm feeling laid-back and nostalgic. People who are happy and cheerful when are more likeable to me when I'm sad. People who are willing to share food when I'm starving are instantly five times awesomer than when I'm not. Etcetera.) And of course, a person's actions can cause them to become more or less appealing. (This is why I love superheroes, because they're always saving people and being selfless.)

There are some small, personal things that I don't know how to classify that also affect a person's 'likeability' for me. If you play an instrument, yay! If you can sing well, awesome! If you're an awesome writer, w00t! These are just personal tastes, however, as I am a musician, singer, and a writer. haha!

Beauty

Every single person out there, every single one, is beautiful. Or handsome, if you prefer. Everyone and everything is a creation of God, and like He said at the very beginning, "It is good." Sure, there are exceptions to this rule now (after Satan came along and screwed everything up), but I still believe that beauty is out there. You can find it in people. You can find it in nature. You can find it in things. When you do, stop for a second. Observe. Admire. Don't be embarrassed about it. Smile about it! And be proud.

You are part of this awesome world. You are beautiful. So is everyone else! I know sometimes it might seem like everyone is more attractive than you are. Movie stars, singer idols, and models are supernaturally handsome. And you're just you. Well, that's not true. Everyone has the potential to be beautiful. There is so much more that goes into beauty than just physical looks. There's confidence involved. :) Just know that you are a beautiful creation of God.

This is why I love people watching. I just like admiring people. I observing their odd habits, their little idiosyncrasies. I see their freckles, their nails, the way their hair curls, the shade of their eyes. I marvel at the fact that everyone is so different, but still beautiful. I love knowing that God is infinitely creative and always knows the perfect way to show beauty in everything.

Guess who?

Only three more weeks of school, counting finals week. Woop woop! Frankly, I'm excited. I have a lot of things I want to do this summer, like go to the aquarium in Chicago (whose name escapes me), explore the new Union South, build a Rube Goldberg machine, sew a pair of Jedi costumes, and of course, apply for a lot of study abroad scholarships. I've already got $5000 towards my housing and stuff, since tuition is taken care of by the scholarship I have. Yay!

At the moment, I'm getting ready for a choir concert. It's going to be interesting for sure, since I kinda feel like we didn't have enough time to practice and we only learned the words for one of the songs like, last week. I'm only really comfortable with about half the songs we'll be singing. We'll see, I guess.

Anyways, here is another poem by me. It was inspired by a literary character from a rather famous, recent-ish series. Let's see if anyone can guess who he is. :)

Courage and Pride by Rebecca Her

I take my usual seat, fourth row from the front, three seats from the right.

My body aches. Detention was worse than usual.

The professor says good morning, I try to focus on her voice.

It doesn’t work.

I put my head down for a moment.

I can feel the other students’ eyes on me,

sneering, or pitying, or pleading:

Fool, or poor kid, or save us!

As your parents saved ours.

And I wonder how much I can do,

alone.

I am, after all,

me.

The boy who can’t do anything right.

The boy who loses his pet toad.

The boy who trips into the dining hall,

The pale, frightened boy with crooked teeth,

and a flinching shoulder.

The sweets wrapper in my pocket

crinkles noisily.

Don’t get me wrong:

I love my parents,

and every time I catch myself

wishing they were dead,

I kick myself and promise

to buy Mum the expensive candy next time.

But I just can’t help it.

If they were dead, I wouldn’t be stubbornly holding on to my hopeless hope, that one day

they’ll wake up

and say,

‘Where’s our son?’

‘Where’s my boy?’

‘I’m so proud of you.’

And I’d say to her, like I always do,

‘Thanks Mum.’

On the day of the battle,

I’m planning to visit them again.

The chewing gum in my pocket crackles,

giving me strength to refuse the offer

of power and my life, in exchange for my soul.

My body is frozen, my mind is racing,

sprinting to save the world

as it burns down round my ears.

I owe it to Mum and Dad to do what’s right.

Reaching into the flames,

looking for the cool, hard hilt

of courage’s sword, a snake of doubt rears up.

I wonder if I am brave enough.

I made a promise. People are counting on me.

The sword materializes in my hand,

before I realize I’m holding it, I swing.

The snake’s head twitches, fangs extended, tongue stretched out

to taste my sweaty face,

and tumbles to the ground.

The souvenirs from the battle sting and burn,

but I know they’ll fade with time.

Things go back to normal.

The institution smells clean and sharp. ‘I’m a hero, Mum.’

She reaches for a sweet, and I oblige.

Looking in her eyes, I tell her, ‘Mum,

It’s me. Your son.

The man who defeated a monster.

The man who wielded the sword of courage.

The man who stands tall with his friends.

The young, confident man with a genuine smile.

I’m so proud of you.’

And she says to me,

‘Thank you.’

I take my usual place in the classroom, front desk, back to the chalkboard,

and wish my students good morning.

I can feel their eyes on me,

and I smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In case you weren't able to guess, this poem was inspired by Neville Longbottom, from Harry Potter. I like him even more than I like Harry, mostly because he's so AWESOME and under-appreciated. If you've read the books, you know that he and Harry have the same birthday, so Neville could have been the Chosen One. I think it would have been super interesting to see how things would have gone if he was.

Blargh!

So much stuff to do right now! It's crazy, but I've only got three and a half more weeks of school! Well, there's finals after that, but only three and a half more weeks of actual class. And I'm super bogged down with all the forms and papers I have to fill out and send off for study abroad, applying for a passport and a visa, a presentation on Friday I have to work on, and then also trying to fit in homework, exercise, and maybe a teeny tiny bit of relaxation in there some where. AGH!

Thankfully I've still got a little time to share with you guys. At least, as long as my poems and short stories from last semester last. Once I run out of those I'll actually have to start writing some more stuff, which would take much longer. Hopefully it'll be summer by then. :) Anyways, I hope you enjoy this next poem. Warning! It's got some bad words in it! Oh noes!

*****************

Paris 

The last good kiss you had

Was years ago.

Back when there were more fireworks

Than the fourth of July.

The withdrawal was

Worth the high.

His eyes were brighter

Than the big, blue sky.

That mime that walks

Up and down the street,

Entreating people to stop

With his invisible ropes

And boxes you can’t see.

Those night-darkened eyes make you wonder.

That morning-brightened face makes you guess.

Those wining and dining red lips draw you in, to

Those encompassing arms, those pure white hands,

Grasping your own.

Climbing a ladder, higher and higher,

Reaching for heaven together.

He says you look good

In black and white stripes.

You don’t mind wearing them.

For the first few years

Because you can’t see past the light show,

Your symptoms are kicking in,

And the dark of his eyes pour into your own.

Dripping leaves, rivers of snow,

Storms of blossoms, tsunamis of heat.

Miles and miles and miles.

You’re tired. You’re faded.

You’ve wasted

All your life.

I love you, he says. You’re

Fucking mine.

The night conceals his shadowy eyes.

The morning reveals his painted on face.

His lips are poison, and his gloves are a façade.

You can’t escape his arms, even though

You’ve realized those hands aren’t white.

They’re just gloves

You’ve seen the rough, dirty hands underneath.

It’s your fault, you know. He’s

Mute, trapped, entangled, fallen.

Wait. No, that’s you.

You hope he (you?) will suffocate.

He starves you (himself?)

You cut him (yourself?)

He(you?) fall(s) off the ladder.

The spider keeps climbing.

Over and over. Stop!

He/you won’t/can’t.

And the mime is still climbing.

Still reaching for that heaven

That maybe isn’t there at all.

But you’re tired of climbing.

Maybe stripes aren’t your style after all.

You know better now. You’re

Speaking out, breaking out, cutting loose, flying.

Stop! I love you, he says.

No. You’re a

Fucking mime.

No pretend ropes will pull you back.

Nonexistent boxes won’t keep you in.

The sidewalk welcomes your steps and

The mime stops.

On the next street, you meet a magician.


*********************


Hmm. Just out of curiosity, how do you guys feel about using words and expressing beliefs that you don't hold yourself in your writing? In this poem I dropped a couple of f-bombs, which I very very very very VERY rarely do in real life. In one of my short stories, the main character is the exact opposite of me (a guy who swears and drinks and parties a lot and has a lot of one night stands). When I was younger I always used to feel like putting curse words and really dark, or mature subjects in my stories and things was a big no-no, but since my last creative writing workshop, and I guess since I started college, it hasn't seemed like such a big deal to me. That's probably just me growing up though.


I think I might surprise people though. I'm usually a really happy, fun, optimistic person, so I think someone who knows me might be a little weirded out by the fact that I can even think of all these horrible dark things. *shrug* I'm sure that everyone, even the happiest, sweetest, most innocent person you know (children excluded) has thought about these things more than once. It's just not talked about a lot. And just because I sometimes write about it doesn't mean that I'm turning into an emo Nemo. (haha, made that up myself) It just means that I'm aware of them and I can sympathize with those feelings of anger and hatred and fear, even if I haven't experienced exactly what I wrote about. My English professor once said that good poetry comes from a place of pain. But good poetry can also come from places of happiness too. :) Next time I'll have to show you a poem that was inspired by one of my favorite people ever.


Peace!

Must... resist...

I feel the uncontrollable urge to post a million things on this thing, because it just looks so empty. But I shall resist! (valiantly, of course). Featured above are interesting carvings found on tables in a certain famous building on a certain lake near where I live. I've been planning on adding my name to the insanity, but it is so much harder than you'd think it is! I was scratching away for like, 15 minutes and barely dented the table! I figure these people must have taken days and days and DAYS to carve their names in and I don't think I have that much time to commit to sitting at a table and covertly gouging my name into it.

Also! It's National Poetry Writing Month! Or NaPoWriMo, for short. In honor of this, here is another one of my poems. It's based around one of my fondest childhood memories: my elementary school. Enjoy!

The Garden

I know she loved me, once.

She liked me for my beauty

and my view of the valley below.

Even now I know she still loves me and misses me.

In the middle of the night, in the beyond place,

I can feel her dreaming of me.

I see her, and she sees me.

She has changed. I have not.

Her hair is short. My grass of my soccer field is still an inch tall.

She has curves now. My rolling-down hills still slope.

She’s grown taller. My copse of pine trees still serves as ‘base.’

And yet I can see

the dust of my track still sticks to her feet.

The sounds of my halls still echo in her ears.

The smell of my books, now old, still fills her lungs.

My monkey bars are her bones.

My sawdust is her skin.

My green dragon benches’ fire is her breath

and she chokes because of it.

I wish she would come back.

The outside world has changed her, I know.

Made her angry, made her tough

Made her scared of me.

Made her forget just how strong my big toys are

and how she felt on top of them.

Like Supergirl.

Me and her, we were best friends

for the longest time.

We laughed together,

cried together,

and even hated each other for a day.

But like all the other little girls,

she left.

The beyond place called to her,

made promises, tempted her.

The beyond place where my chain linked fences end

and everything else begins.

Every year I lose kids like her

and every year I open my gates

for more like her.

Brightly colored, helium voiced balloons

Who bounce against my blacktop.

Stare out into the beyond place.

And promise to themselves they won’t let themselves float away.

Eager Beaver

Okay, so I'm kind of excited about having a blog. Or rather, having things to post about in a blog. It used to be that I was super freaked out to share my writing with anybody, but after taking a creative writing workshop, I've gotten used to it. In fact, I find that sharing my work is really fun and interesting. Yay! Feedback! For the next few days/weeks I'll be posting up poems and short little fiction pieces from my last creative writing class. Mostly the good stuff, but maybe even the bad stuff, if I feel brave enough. Hope you guys enjoy! :)

Three Ways of Looking at Anger

            1

Searing heat against your skin,

About to burst like overcooked intestines.

A rotten tomato splatters against the

baked, gray sidewalk, the stench cloying and sickly sweet.

Treacle melting between greedy fingers, wasted.

The mountain tumbles in on itself,

shrieking in protest, as elegant deer

bound across it’s crumbling face

and are swept bloodily away in it’s cries.

            2

Eggplants sit meekly in the oven, promising

delicious energy and vibrant color.

Their unpunctured, violet skin tightens more and more with heat,

and they wait secretly to reveal the fearsome power beneath.

The smooth, snowy mirror invites sharp shoe-blades to dance

across its frozen surface, negligently drawing

its victims to its weakened, deadly center,

as icicles twinkle and chime in the warming sun,

awaiting their final plunge.

            3

A child hides behind his own shadow, stretching far before him.

Butterflies spread their frighteningly painted wings,

opening their “eyes” to see nothing, and

let nothing be seen.

The thundering storm whirls around its own grim, lonely center,

daring anyone to try and brave

the lightning and rain and howling wind to reach it.

Flaming salamanders arch their fiery backs

To sear the innocence of those who try to heal their wounded hearts.

A Jake Peterson Story

So... Here it is! My first post! I'm nervous. This is a momentous occasion and I don't wanna screw it up. It has to be funny and interesting and all sorts of cool and I don't think I can pull that off. Ah, screw it. Here's something notable that happened to me recently!

I saw these guys going down 151 a few days ago and was curious. I didn't know Dane county had their own bomb squad, although, now that I think about it, it makes sense. I really wanted to know where they were going and what was going on. There wasn't anything on the news about a bomb threat anywhere, so maybe they just got bored and decided to go out for a ride? :)

When I told my boyfriend about this later on, he just laughed and said that it was such a "Jake Peterson" story. Apparently on his high school soccer team there was a guy named Jake Peterson who just told short random stories with absolutely no point. The example he gave me was: "I saw a Mercedes today. It was going slooooooooow." And that's it. But my story had a point! I learned something new that day! And the bomb squad wasn't going slooooooow. They were stopped at a stoplight. Which is how I got this picture of them. Because I was also driving.