This next post on this list is about a moral dilemma.
Back in my youth, I sold and experimented with every drug you can name. Well, not heroin, but I do not like needles so that was out the door before it had a chance. The rest though I have done and sold many times. I am not proud of it, but I do not regret it either. I am a searcher, and I like to try new things and experience new things. Also, it taught me a lot about the world, myself, and especially that things are not as black and white as adults try to make them seem.
As far as a dillemma that comes up quite often is friends who still do some of these things. Now, I am not against marijuana at all. Its natural, and everyone should know that alcohol is worse for you then marijuana could ever be. Its these other drugs though. I am not going to say they are not fun, because they are, but they are bad for you and your health. I can feel the after effects to this day.
My dillemma is sometimes people feel I do not have room to talk against drugs since I did so many and sold them. However, I disagree, I think I am EXACTLY the person who should speak out against them. I have lived it, been through it, seen what happened to my life and others, and to be honest, I would say I am an expert on the subject.
I always thought school counselors were straight bullshit. None of these guys had been through some of this stuff, or even used a drug ever. They get what they read from books and try to help students that are struggling with whatever. Its crap. If I am struggling with something in life, I want to talk to someone who has lived through it and actually experienced it. Not some idiot with a smile and a tie trying to be my friend. So I feel I am qualified to give my opinion on drugs and drug use. As a matter of fact, there is a lot more things I believe I would be great on helping kids with. Ive seen it and done it all in a lot of areas. I think that is what makes a good counselor. Real life experience, not what you learned from a book while laying in your bed, no girlfriend, no friends, studying life through the words of some other smoe who hasnt experienced it either. The real counselors in life are the ones thats lived it.
So in conclusion, I think I am the best man at the job. I also know you do not tell them no to do it. You do not shun them. You do not do anything but offer advice, help, and lend an ear to them when they need you. Share your experiences with them and let them learn from your stories without you ordering them what to do. People never change because YOU want them to, they have to want to change. They will eventually learn how bad drugs are, or they wont and it will kill them. This sounds bad, but thats the facts and some people cannot be saved. All you can do is support them and be there friend, and share your experiences and hope they see the truth about things such as this. Sometimes all someone needs is an ear.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Entry 11
The next one on the list is about my name, where it comes from, etc.
Well, my name is Jerry Lee Young. Let me get this out of the way upfront....I hate it! Not just Jerry, not just Lee, not just Young....all of it. I really do, and always have. No paticular reason, I just do not like it.
As far as where it came from. Jerry and Lee I believe were my Great Granpas, or maybe Great Great. I am not sure, as I only asked once really about it. I am always proud to carry names of my family members, and even my sons middle name is my Grandmas maiden name. I think thats a cool ritual, but why the hell did my Grandpas have to have those TWO NAMES? Ughhhhhhh!
Unfortunately it is what I am stuck with. I am proud of my last name, just because I think you have to be. I never was until I seen it on my sons birth certificate, and especially when I seen it on his sports jersey. That definately made me proud beyond belief.
If I was able to change my name to something I wanted, I really do not know what it would be. I have thought about it a lot, but nothing ever sticks to me. I think its funny when someones name just does not fit them. I do not have examples, but I am sure you know what I mean and have thought that as well. I guess I really cannot see myself as anything else but a Jerry. Blah!
Well, my name is Jerry Lee Young. Let me get this out of the way upfront....I hate it! Not just Jerry, not just Lee, not just Young....all of it. I really do, and always have. No paticular reason, I just do not like it.
As far as where it came from. Jerry and Lee I believe were my Great Granpas, or maybe Great Great. I am not sure, as I only asked once really about it. I am always proud to carry names of my family members, and even my sons middle name is my Grandmas maiden name. I think thats a cool ritual, but why the hell did my Grandpas have to have those TWO NAMES? Ughhhhhhh!
Unfortunately it is what I am stuck with. I am proud of my last name, just because I think you have to be. I never was until I seen it on my sons birth certificate, and especially when I seen it on his sports jersey. That definately made me proud beyond belief.
If I was able to change my name to something I wanted, I really do not know what it would be. I have thought about it a lot, but nothing ever sticks to me. I think its funny when someones name just does not fit them. I do not have examples, but I am sure you know what I mean and have thought that as well. I guess I really cannot see myself as anything else but a Jerry. Blah!
Entry 10
This is number 7 on the list. To narrate a story about a person in your family.
It was a brisk January evening, and dark had fallen. A family of 5 sat in thier home not knowing what this night would bring. Something that would change their life forever.
This family had a 17 year old son. He was very handsome and very intelligent to boot. He also was in the choir at school who competed and won awards. He was brought up to be respectful and a hard worker, and he was everything a family would want out of a son.
I do not recall what he needed to go get, but he told his parents he had to go pick up something from the store. As he got into the Corvette that he was so proud of, he headed down the gravel road leading to their home.
His mother did not think this was the best car for a kid at his age, as it was a flashy sports car, but she had learned to accept it. He was pretty popular in town, not just because of who he was, but because of this flashy, red corvette. It was his proudest possession, and he had even posed for a picture in front of it for his Senior pictures.
As he turned onto the paved road, he noticed it was pretty foggy outside. He did not pay it no mind as he was going to get what he needed regardless. He turned onto an old highway he had driven a million times before, only a few miles from his home. I am not him, so I can not speculate what was going on in his mind, if his music was blasting, or anything else for that matter. The next episode would change everyones life forever.
About a mile up the road was a curve that curved to the right about 90 degrees. The fog had gotten thicker, so thick, that he did not see the curve and continued going straight right into a groupd of trees and was killed on impact. A lady that lived on the hill heard the crash, and ran down to the car but it was to late...he was gone.
I got the phone call, and at first thought it was my uncle who crashed as he and his son carry the same first name. When I found out it was my little cousin, I was crushed. I had just seen him a few days ago as we both went shopping at the mall. I bought a new winter jacket, and I still have it to this day and will keep it forever. It is the last time I seen him alive. There is so much more to the story I could share, but it really is hard to think about. The sad thing is, a year and a half later, his sister was killed in a car wreck as well. Two kids from the same mother. My two cousins. Both 17 and gone. To carry those caskets, to face my aunt and there is nothing you can do or say, just destroys everything you have inside.
What I am most proud of, out of all the writing I have ever done, is that I wrote a poem after my cousins Karlos crash which this story is about. It is engraved with my name on the back of his tombstone and will live forever. No matter if I go on to be one of the greatest writers of all time. No matter if I win awards, accolades, anything, none of it will ever matter or compare. The greatest thing I ever wrote will always be on that tombstone, for my cousin Karlo. RIP Karlo
It was a brisk January evening, and dark had fallen. A family of 5 sat in thier home not knowing what this night would bring. Something that would change their life forever.
This family had a 17 year old son. He was very handsome and very intelligent to boot. He also was in the choir at school who competed and won awards. He was brought up to be respectful and a hard worker, and he was everything a family would want out of a son.
I do not recall what he needed to go get, but he told his parents he had to go pick up something from the store. As he got into the Corvette that he was so proud of, he headed down the gravel road leading to their home.
His mother did not think this was the best car for a kid at his age, as it was a flashy sports car, but she had learned to accept it. He was pretty popular in town, not just because of who he was, but because of this flashy, red corvette. It was his proudest possession, and he had even posed for a picture in front of it for his Senior pictures.
As he turned onto the paved road, he noticed it was pretty foggy outside. He did not pay it no mind as he was going to get what he needed regardless. He turned onto an old highway he had driven a million times before, only a few miles from his home. I am not him, so I can not speculate what was going on in his mind, if his music was blasting, or anything else for that matter. The next episode would change everyones life forever.
About a mile up the road was a curve that curved to the right about 90 degrees. The fog had gotten thicker, so thick, that he did not see the curve and continued going straight right into a groupd of trees and was killed on impact. A lady that lived on the hill heard the crash, and ran down to the car but it was to late...he was gone.
I got the phone call, and at first thought it was my uncle who crashed as he and his son carry the same first name. When I found out it was my little cousin, I was crushed. I had just seen him a few days ago as we both went shopping at the mall. I bought a new winter jacket, and I still have it to this day and will keep it forever. It is the last time I seen him alive. There is so much more to the story I could share, but it really is hard to think about. The sad thing is, a year and a half later, his sister was killed in a car wreck as well. Two kids from the same mother. My two cousins. Both 17 and gone. To carry those caskets, to face my aunt and there is nothing you can do or say, just destroys everything you have inside.
What I am most proud of, out of all the writing I have ever done, is that I wrote a poem after my cousins Karlos crash which this story is about. It is engraved with my name on the back of his tombstone and will live forever. No matter if I go on to be one of the greatest writers of all time. No matter if I win awards, accolades, anything, none of it will ever matter or compare. The greatest thing I ever wrote will always be on that tombstone, for my cousin Karlo. RIP Karlo
Entry 9
This is the one I got stuck on last time that I forgot. This is a view from a different perspective. Sept 11th through a Birds Eye View.
As I flew over the buildings, all I could see was smoke roaring out of the side of each of them. I was to scared to land where I usually did each day to rest from roaming the city for food. I flapped my wings and flew a little further to a building down the way that had been untouched. As I perched up on the edge, I could people below scurrying and running. It seemed like nothing but mayhem. The sound of sirens echoed through the streets from many emergecy vehicles. It seems like every street in the burough had a few rushing down it towards the buildings that were on fire. I thought back to the sky I had been flying through all day, and how beautiful of a morning it had been, and now this would wash all that away. If only the people stuck inside had wings like me to fly away from the horror that was taking place. Unfortunately, they didnt, they only had legs for walking. I seen a few try to fly, but to no avail as they hit the ground below making such a scary thumping sound when they hit. The smoke was getting thicker and trailing towards the river and through the city. A few of my bird buddies spotted me and decided to join me on the edge of the building. They looked as shocked as me. As we sat there watching, we heard a rumble, and in an instant the first building began to collapse. It startled all of us as we took off through the air away from the buildings and away from the danger. People were screaming and running away as we flew overhead, safe from all the commotion that was going on below. The ash of the debris begin burrowing through the city streets, so we flew higher and farther away. Maybe if we had just headed south for the winter a little early this year, we would not have had to witness what happened that day. To stay out of danger, we never again went close to where it all happened, we flew further out into the suburbs to a tree that was a long way from the incident. Once again we went about our daily ritual of finding food, and now building new nests out here. I wonder what happened after that horrible collapse. No one spoke of it the rest of the day, but it was all on our minds.
As I flew over the buildings, all I could see was smoke roaring out of the side of each of them. I was to scared to land where I usually did each day to rest from roaming the city for food. I flapped my wings and flew a little further to a building down the way that had been untouched. As I perched up on the edge, I could people below scurrying and running. It seemed like nothing but mayhem. The sound of sirens echoed through the streets from many emergecy vehicles. It seems like every street in the burough had a few rushing down it towards the buildings that were on fire. I thought back to the sky I had been flying through all day, and how beautiful of a morning it had been, and now this would wash all that away. If only the people stuck inside had wings like me to fly away from the horror that was taking place. Unfortunately, they didnt, they only had legs for walking. I seen a few try to fly, but to no avail as they hit the ground below making such a scary thumping sound when they hit. The smoke was getting thicker and trailing towards the river and through the city. A few of my bird buddies spotted me and decided to join me on the edge of the building. They looked as shocked as me. As we sat there watching, we heard a rumble, and in an instant the first building began to collapse. It startled all of us as we took off through the air away from the buildings and away from the danger. People were screaming and running away as we flew overhead, safe from all the commotion that was going on below. The ash of the debris begin burrowing through the city streets, so we flew higher and farther away. Maybe if we had just headed south for the winter a little early this year, we would not have had to witness what happened that day. To stay out of danger, we never again went close to where it all happened, we flew further out into the suburbs to a tree that was a long way from the incident. Once again we went about our daily ritual of finding food, and now building new nests out here. I wonder what happened after that horrible collapse. No one spoke of it the rest of the day, but it was all on our minds.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Entry 8
I couldnt do nothing on topic 4, but I am watching a music competition on TV and just felt like writing a song off the top of my head just typing. This isnt on the list, but just something I decided to do to get another post in. Hmm, now a topic. I think I am going to write about this class, and make it like a poem or rap I guess, just freestyle typing.
I couldnt wait for the first day of class
Writing was my thing so I knew I would pass
Havent done creative writing in such a long time
Except poetry like this that always seems to rhyme
I mostly did non fiction and articles for magazines
Its been so long, so you know exactly what that means
I was scared Id be rusty, or have a writers block
And I wasnt good with dialogue of when characters talk
But I challenged myself to try and step out of the box
My first manuscript went over well and I was in shock
I was amazed at the respone, but the other writers as well
All their work amazing, they all had talent I could tell
I knew I had to step it up, maybe I am to hard on my self
But after reading their work, that is just how I felt
I didnt change my style, but I knew to bring out my best
Because the critique workshop is where it would be put to the test
Once again week 2, I got praises for my poetry I shared
So I felt I could hang with the others when we all compared
The talent in all of us is more then I could have ever dreamed
The support thats there between us makes us one hell of a team
I cant wait to read their work and share mine every week
Even when the teachers talking I am always taking a peek
I cant wait to read it, I just have to right when I recieve it
All of them whispering and asking how I percieved it
Ive loved it all so far, and I hope this class never ends
Not only am I reading great work, I am making great friends
Ones with a dream like mine, outstanding talent, what can I say
When its over Ill miss it, and I think we all deserve that A
I couldnt wait for the first day of class
Writing was my thing so I knew I would pass
Havent done creative writing in such a long time
Except poetry like this that always seems to rhyme
I mostly did non fiction and articles for magazines
Its been so long, so you know exactly what that means
I was scared Id be rusty, or have a writers block
And I wasnt good with dialogue of when characters talk
But I challenged myself to try and step out of the box
My first manuscript went over well and I was in shock
I was amazed at the respone, but the other writers as well
All their work amazing, they all had talent I could tell
I knew I had to step it up, maybe I am to hard on my self
But after reading their work, that is just how I felt
I didnt change my style, but I knew to bring out my best
Because the critique workshop is where it would be put to the test
Once again week 2, I got praises for my poetry I shared
So I felt I could hang with the others when we all compared
The talent in all of us is more then I could have ever dreamed
The support thats there between us makes us one hell of a team
I cant wait to read their work and share mine every week
Even when the teachers talking I am always taking a peek
I cant wait to read it, I just have to right when I recieve it
All of them whispering and asking how I percieved it
Ive loved it all so far, and I hope this class never ends
Not only am I reading great work, I am making great friends
Ones with a dream like mine, outstanding talent, what can I say
When its over Ill miss it, and I think we all deserve that A
Entry 7
Ahhh, I skipped number 4 on the list because I was on a roll writing. I guess I will back up and do that one now and that will be good for this evening. Number 4 says to describe a significant place from a different point of view.
Man, I sat here and after writing 3 or 4 in a row, I got to this topic and just went blank. I had a few ideas come to mind, and just couldnt pull nothing out of them from a different point of view. Funny how I can just write and write, take a topic and roll all night, and then just smash right into a dead end, writers block.
I guess I am ahead of schedule, so I guess I am fine for the night. I just have a bad habit of remembering assignments like this because its not brought up in class everyday, and with my son and everything else I seem to forget it. I did 3 or 4 tonight, so thats pretty good I guess. And now I am just writing this to write I guess and just express my thoughts, thinking maybe something will come to me just while I type all this mumbo jumbo, but no luck. I think its time to put up the laptop and wait for another day. I did these posts, and my thursday manuscript already today, so I have done a lot of writing already. Ok, bye bye. haha
Man, I sat here and after writing 3 or 4 in a row, I got to this topic and just went blank. I had a few ideas come to mind, and just couldnt pull nothing out of them from a different point of view. Funny how I can just write and write, take a topic and roll all night, and then just smash right into a dead end, writers block.
I guess I am ahead of schedule, so I guess I am fine for the night. I just have a bad habit of remembering assignments like this because its not brought up in class everyday, and with my son and everything else I seem to forget it. I did 3 or 4 tonight, so thats pretty good I guess. And now I am just writing this to write I guess and just express my thoughts, thinking maybe something will come to me just while I type all this mumbo jumbo, but no luck. I think its time to put up the laptop and wait for another day. I did these posts, and my thursday manuscript already today, so I have done a lot of writing already. Ok, bye bye. haha
Entry 6
Number 6- Describe a Picture in your life
Finally I get the chance I been waiting for. I was denied entry for years because of a past mistake. Here I was finally, after jumping through hoops, and this was my time to shine. The music was pumping in my ears, I was representing my hometown with my attire, and I was ready to take on all comers.
As I walked thru the door, I was just amazed at how many people were in this place. Thousands, on the same mission as me, to be a winner and take that money home. As I walked in between the tables, I could hear the clicking of chips echoing throughout the whole pavillion. This was amazing and finally I was going to get to sit among some of the best.
I finally found my table and took my seat. I showed the dealer my seat assignment and he handed me my chips. As he ruffled the cards, I began to shuffle my chips. I also took a look around to size up the competition. One woman, two older guys, and a handful of young guns. I try to get an idea of how they play just from looking at their personas and prescence at the tables. I always do this at first and then adjust as I see them play.
The clock begins and we are under way. All the chips are new, the felt is spotless, and the dealer is fast and efficient. I look at the felt and see it says WSOP. I have finally arrived. Maybe I am not in the big tourneys, but I am at the World Series of Poker, the biggest poker event in the world. I am doing chip tricks with WSOP chips. I am peeking at WSOP cards. This is amazing. I will never forget this moment and luckily they had a photography company taking pictures you could buy. Unfortunately I got pretty unlucky in a hand and busted out before the money. The experience alone was priceless, and I headed right to the booth of the photography company. There I was, as they showed me on the computer, chips in my hand, headphones on, and my Chiefs Jersey for my hometown I come from. There the memory was, in photo, to live on forever right on my dresser.
Finally I get the chance I been waiting for. I was denied entry for years because of a past mistake. Here I was finally, after jumping through hoops, and this was my time to shine. The music was pumping in my ears, I was representing my hometown with my attire, and I was ready to take on all comers.
As I walked thru the door, I was just amazed at how many people were in this place. Thousands, on the same mission as me, to be a winner and take that money home. As I walked in between the tables, I could hear the clicking of chips echoing throughout the whole pavillion. This was amazing and finally I was going to get to sit among some of the best.
I finally found my table and took my seat. I showed the dealer my seat assignment and he handed me my chips. As he ruffled the cards, I began to shuffle my chips. I also took a look around to size up the competition. One woman, two older guys, and a handful of young guns. I try to get an idea of how they play just from looking at their personas and prescence at the tables. I always do this at first and then adjust as I see them play.
The clock begins and we are under way. All the chips are new, the felt is spotless, and the dealer is fast and efficient. I look at the felt and see it says WSOP. I have finally arrived. Maybe I am not in the big tourneys, but I am at the World Series of Poker, the biggest poker event in the world. I am doing chip tricks with WSOP chips. I am peeking at WSOP cards. This is amazing. I will never forget this moment and luckily they had a photography company taking pictures you could buy. Unfortunately I got pretty unlucky in a hand and busted out before the money. The experience alone was priceless, and I headed right to the booth of the photography company. There I was, as they showed me on the computer, chips in my hand, headphones on, and my Chiefs Jersey for my hometown I come from. There the memory was, in photo, to live on forever right on my dresser.
Entry 5
This is 5 on the list. Using all 5 senses.
I see him scurry back and forth. For some reason he does not like me, and to be honest, I dont really care for him either. When I was young I did, but he is more of a pain in the ass now. The smell in this room is unbearable, even when at its freshest. If I wanted to smell animal waste, I would go to the shelter.
I chase him around the house just to irritate him because as a child, it seems like fun to me. He runs under the fridge that does not have the bottom of the front on it. I lean down and see his eyes, and they are the only thing I can see. I poke at him a little and try to pull him out. All of a sudden he scratches me and I yank back my hand. Little son of a bitch. I reach for me again, and I hear the hiss and he is obviously not happy.
I yell at him to come out. The more I yell and talk, the more he hisses. I try to get a broomstick out and push him out but to no avail. This seems like a lost cause. I decide to just let him be. The scratch on my arm hurts and I need a band aid anyway. I guess Simon my cat one this round, but payback will be coming his way. Damn cat.
I see him scurry back and forth. For some reason he does not like me, and to be honest, I dont really care for him either. When I was young I did, but he is more of a pain in the ass now. The smell in this room is unbearable, even when at its freshest. If I wanted to smell animal waste, I would go to the shelter.
I chase him around the house just to irritate him because as a child, it seems like fun to me. He runs under the fridge that does not have the bottom of the front on it. I lean down and see his eyes, and they are the only thing I can see. I poke at him a little and try to pull him out. All of a sudden he scratches me and I yank back my hand. Little son of a bitch. I reach for me again, and I hear the hiss and he is obviously not happy.
I yell at him to come out. The more I yell and talk, the more he hisses. I try to get a broomstick out and push him out but to no avail. This seems like a lost cause. I decide to just let him be. The scratch on my arm hurts and I need a band aid anyway. I guess Simon my cat one this round, but payback will be coming his way. Damn cat.
Entry 4
Well, I totally spaced out on my journal and forgot about it. Fortunately, I am back and plan on getting a couple of posts in this evening. I am going to continue down the list we were given, and this is number 3.
I had waited two whole days, and nothing had changed. I was pacing back in forth in the room, some out of nerves, some out of frustration. I was hopped up on hot choclate as I probably went to the lobby and drank at least thirty cups. I probably upset the front desk as I had gone in and out of the building a million times as well. Come to find out, they were sending us home for another week. You have to be kidding me.
We come in the next week, and the same thing. Now my nerves are not even bad, I am tired and frustrated beyond belief. I just want this to happen. Another two days are about to end and the same thing. Whats the problem? Finally they come in and give us choices. I jump on the first choice to take care of it now and my girl agrees.
In the flash of an eye, I am already prepped and taken back quickly to a room by myself. They explain I will have to stay in there for about five minutes until they are all prepped. This is where I lose it. My palms begin to sweet and my breathing becomes faster. They sat me in a rocking chair and I am rocking that thing like I am in a marathon race of rocking chairs. I keep looking up at the clock but its standing still.
After what seemed like an eternity, they come get me and take me in the room. I am excited, scared, nervous, relieved, extatic, I am a ball of different emotions. I hold my girls hand and hers are as sweaty as mine, but now a calm comes over me just knowing were together for this moment. Needless to say it did not take long and it was over. I looked at what we created and my eyes watered. I smiled and the biggest sense of pride I have ever had came over my whole body. I kissed my girl and also what we created. The greatest thing I have ever done or created in my entire life, and forever.
I had waited two whole days, and nothing had changed. I was pacing back in forth in the room, some out of nerves, some out of frustration. I was hopped up on hot choclate as I probably went to the lobby and drank at least thirty cups. I probably upset the front desk as I had gone in and out of the building a million times as well. Come to find out, they were sending us home for another week. You have to be kidding me.
We come in the next week, and the same thing. Now my nerves are not even bad, I am tired and frustrated beyond belief. I just want this to happen. Another two days are about to end and the same thing. Whats the problem? Finally they come in and give us choices. I jump on the first choice to take care of it now and my girl agrees.
In the flash of an eye, I am already prepped and taken back quickly to a room by myself. They explain I will have to stay in there for about five minutes until they are all prepped. This is where I lose it. My palms begin to sweet and my breathing becomes faster. They sat me in a rocking chair and I am rocking that thing like I am in a marathon race of rocking chairs. I keep looking up at the clock but its standing still.
After what seemed like an eternity, they come get me and take me in the room. I am excited, scared, nervous, relieved, extatic, I am a ball of different emotions. I hold my girls hand and hers are as sweaty as mine, but now a calm comes over me just knowing were together for this moment. Needless to say it did not take long and it was over. I looked at what we created and my eyes watered. I smiled and the biggest sense of pride I have ever had came over my whole body. I kissed my girl and also what we created. The greatest thing I have ever done or created in my entire life, and forever.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Entry 3
I have decided I am going to do two posts a week. If I feel froggy, maybe I will throw in extra. This should give me five to ten more posts then the 20 required. I am also not going to spell or grammar check any of them. Not because of laziness, but to me a journal is just free thinking and free writing, something personal and not for publishing even if you are going to share it with friends or teachers. I feel it should be raw, and like I said last time, just free flowing. So here we go with my second post for this week.
The second idea given was to describe if you ever walked out of a movie or stopped reading a book you started and why.
I have never walked out of a movie and maybe that is because they cost money, I am not sure. I have seen some pretty bad movies, but most the time I had rented them as most movies I really want to see I go to the theatre for. If I rent a movie, and its bad, I dont usually turn it off, but I do start doing other things like surfing the net or whatever comes to mind at the time.
Now as far as books, I do not read much, at least not fiction. Being a writer, that is kind of surprising to some, but it is just not something that interests me. I do read books from time to time, but they are usually funny books by like comedians, or their about real life things that have happened. I am definately more of a non fiction reader.
That being said, I remember putting down several books back when I was young. I even put one down and only skimmed through it for an assigment in college. If it is boring, then I just cannot get into it. The funny thing is, the two that stick out in my mind is Of Mice and Men in grade school, and 1984 in college. These books are seen as classics and some of the most popular books ever written. Well I say, they are not in my opinion. Yes, maybe they are original, or written well, but they just do not do nothing for me.
Of Mice and Men was just to boring and bland for me. I do not think I even got past the second or third chapter. I always hated having to read books assigned to me, and even at a young age I did not want to be forced to read books I was not into. I am pretty sure this is what made me hate reading in the first place.
1984 was just as horrible. I do like the premise of the book and what its trying to convey, but it was so dry it just could not hook me. Once again, it was something I was assigned to read, and I believe strongly when it comes to art which I think writing is, the beauty is in the eye of the beholder and not all of us are going to like the same things.
That being said, I do remember To Kill a Mockingbird in highschool. One of my all time favorite books ever written, and even the movie is one of the best adapatations of a book ever made. Yes, I read the book, and then I saw the movie. This is the one time I can remember being assigned something to read that I absolutely enjoyed. I do appreciate the fact that I got to read it because it was assigned because I would have never thought of picking up that book with a title like that, so I guess there is pluses in being shown supposive great books that are considered classes. Finally, one out of dozens of books assigned to me actually hit it out of the park with me and I enjoyed it so much.
I think for english classes where reading is involved, maybe they should suggest some of these books, and have a description or review of what it is about, but do not force kids to read it just because it is deemed a classic. This goes for movies, music, etc. All art has things that are called classics, and to me, they are straight garbage. We all have different tastes, and I believe it should be left up to the student or the reader to find things and read what they enjoy to read instead of having different books they will not enjoy shoved down their throats. Art is a beautiful thing is all forms, and the best part is dicovering which art you are attracted to, drawn to, and enjoy yourself. We are all different, and we should explore on our own what tickles are fancy so to speak.
The second idea given was to describe if you ever walked out of a movie or stopped reading a book you started and why.
I have never walked out of a movie and maybe that is because they cost money, I am not sure. I have seen some pretty bad movies, but most the time I had rented them as most movies I really want to see I go to the theatre for. If I rent a movie, and its bad, I dont usually turn it off, but I do start doing other things like surfing the net or whatever comes to mind at the time.
Now as far as books, I do not read much, at least not fiction. Being a writer, that is kind of surprising to some, but it is just not something that interests me. I do read books from time to time, but they are usually funny books by like comedians, or their about real life things that have happened. I am definately more of a non fiction reader.
That being said, I remember putting down several books back when I was young. I even put one down and only skimmed through it for an assigment in college. If it is boring, then I just cannot get into it. The funny thing is, the two that stick out in my mind is Of Mice and Men in grade school, and 1984 in college. These books are seen as classics and some of the most popular books ever written. Well I say, they are not in my opinion. Yes, maybe they are original, or written well, but they just do not do nothing for me.
Of Mice and Men was just to boring and bland for me. I do not think I even got past the second or third chapter. I always hated having to read books assigned to me, and even at a young age I did not want to be forced to read books I was not into. I am pretty sure this is what made me hate reading in the first place.
1984 was just as horrible. I do like the premise of the book and what its trying to convey, but it was so dry it just could not hook me. Once again, it was something I was assigned to read, and I believe strongly when it comes to art which I think writing is, the beauty is in the eye of the beholder and not all of us are going to like the same things.
That being said, I do remember To Kill a Mockingbird in highschool. One of my all time favorite books ever written, and even the movie is one of the best adapatations of a book ever made. Yes, I read the book, and then I saw the movie. This is the one time I can remember being assigned something to read that I absolutely enjoyed. I do appreciate the fact that I got to read it because it was assigned because I would have never thought of picking up that book with a title like that, so I guess there is pluses in being shown supposive great books that are considered classes. Finally, one out of dozens of books assigned to me actually hit it out of the park with me and I enjoyed it so much.
I think for english classes where reading is involved, maybe they should suggest some of these books, and have a description or review of what it is about, but do not force kids to read it just because it is deemed a classic. This goes for movies, music, etc. All art has things that are called classics, and to me, they are straight garbage. We all have different tastes, and I believe it should be left up to the student or the reader to find things and read what they enjoy to read instead of having different books they will not enjoy shoved down their throats. Art is a beautiful thing is all forms, and the best part is dicovering which art you are attracted to, drawn to, and enjoy yourself. We are all different, and we should explore on our own what tickles are fancy so to speak.
Entry 2
I am going to do the list of 12 in order that the teacher provided for the class. Like I said in the last post, I am making it a personal challenge to do all 12. When I write, I almost write from the hip. I start typing and it just flows and whatever comes out is what comes out. I might go back and correct things, change a couple words, but pretty much my writing stays consistent with what flows the first time. It feels more natural and heartfelt that way I feel. Almost like freestyle writing, and that is how I am going to tackle these different ideas.
The first one says if I was stranded on a desert island and could only bring 5 items, what would they be. So here we go.
I cannot remember how I got to this desert island, or what brought me here. As the sand moves through my toes as I walk the beach, I spot a medium sized box laying near a rock a few feet from the cascading water that is coming into shore in small waves. The sun has barely peeked over the vase tropical forest that lays just east of the beach. As I approach the box, I notice there is writing on the top of it. Luckily none of the water has touched the box, so whatever is inside has not been ruined.
I sit down in the sand, still dreery and confused on what I am doing here. As I read the writing it says, "Items you requested." Was it talking about me? Is this someone elses stuff? What is it doing here? Even if curiosity killed the cat, there is no way I am not going to peek inside. After all, maybe it holds a clue to what I am doing here.
I open the box and there is five smaller boxes inside. I open the first and find a mix cd I made some time ago. Obviously this box is mine because I can tell this cd is mine the moments I lay eyes on it. It is titled favorite songs, in my hand writing in black marker, and I could name all the songs on it in order. There is some scratches on the back from repeated use as I used to listen to this cd over in over in my car. I lay it back in its box as I proceed to see what else is inside.
The second box is heavier. As I open it, I see a CD player. I am so excited, I immediately check to see if there is batteries inside. Jackpot! There is batteries inside and they work. I dont know how long I am going to be here, so I need to ration out my music listening because there will be no more batteries on this island I am sure of. The cd player is kind of older, and probably because of the digital age and the IPOD craze, and even though I had one myself, I always appreciated the CD and supporting the artists. I put the CD in the stereo and turn it on. I am only going to play a couple of songs, as like I said, I do not want to waste what battery life I do have.
The next box is very, very small. I open it, and inside is a pen. I pick it up and write on the box to see if it works, and the black ink flows like new. I am now pretty sure what is in the next box, so I tear into that right away. Inside is 300 page notebook. Red in color, which is my favorite, and as I flip through the pages, the notebook is untouched with nothing but blank pages. I love to write, so this is perfect.
Finally, the last box I come to is the lightest of all. I shake it just a little to see if anything is even inside it. As I do, I can faintly here something moving back and forth. As I open it, I see a picture of me and my son inside. The one person that means everything to me in the world is here, even if not in human form. Just looking at that picture makes me know that I must do everything I can to get back to him. A tear drops from my eye, my determination has now raised one hundred times what it was.
As I look at the five items, and then back at my surroundings, I know how each will be put to use. I will use the pen and notebook to document my search for answers on this desolate place. I will use the music to calm me, and enjoy my downtime from trying to figure out how to get off this island and out of this mess. Lastly, the picture will be used to drive me to succeed in getting back home to my son and make me fight any adversity that comes my way in this quest. I will have to find or make other items from whatever the island can provide in its waters and trees, and I will get off this island. This box is only the beginning.
The first one says if I was stranded on a desert island and could only bring 5 items, what would they be. So here we go.
I cannot remember how I got to this desert island, or what brought me here. As the sand moves through my toes as I walk the beach, I spot a medium sized box laying near a rock a few feet from the cascading water that is coming into shore in small waves. The sun has barely peeked over the vase tropical forest that lays just east of the beach. As I approach the box, I notice there is writing on the top of it. Luckily none of the water has touched the box, so whatever is inside has not been ruined.
I sit down in the sand, still dreery and confused on what I am doing here. As I read the writing it says, "Items you requested." Was it talking about me? Is this someone elses stuff? What is it doing here? Even if curiosity killed the cat, there is no way I am not going to peek inside. After all, maybe it holds a clue to what I am doing here.
I open the box and there is five smaller boxes inside. I open the first and find a mix cd I made some time ago. Obviously this box is mine because I can tell this cd is mine the moments I lay eyes on it. It is titled favorite songs, in my hand writing in black marker, and I could name all the songs on it in order. There is some scratches on the back from repeated use as I used to listen to this cd over in over in my car. I lay it back in its box as I proceed to see what else is inside.
The second box is heavier. As I open it, I see a CD player. I am so excited, I immediately check to see if there is batteries inside. Jackpot! There is batteries inside and they work. I dont know how long I am going to be here, so I need to ration out my music listening because there will be no more batteries on this island I am sure of. The cd player is kind of older, and probably because of the digital age and the IPOD craze, and even though I had one myself, I always appreciated the CD and supporting the artists. I put the CD in the stereo and turn it on. I am only going to play a couple of songs, as like I said, I do not want to waste what battery life I do have.
The next box is very, very small. I open it, and inside is a pen. I pick it up and write on the box to see if it works, and the black ink flows like new. I am now pretty sure what is in the next box, so I tear into that right away. Inside is 300 page notebook. Red in color, which is my favorite, and as I flip through the pages, the notebook is untouched with nothing but blank pages. I love to write, so this is perfect.
Finally, the last box I come to is the lightest of all. I shake it just a little to see if anything is even inside it. As I do, I can faintly here something moving back and forth. As I open it, I see a picture of me and my son inside. The one person that means everything to me in the world is here, even if not in human form. Just looking at that picture makes me know that I must do everything I can to get back to him. A tear drops from my eye, my determination has now raised one hundred times what it was.
As I look at the five items, and then back at my surroundings, I know how each will be put to use. I will use the pen and notebook to document my search for answers on this desolate place. I will use the music to calm me, and enjoy my downtime from trying to figure out how to get off this island and out of this mess. Lastly, the picture will be used to drive me to succeed in getting back home to my son and make me fight any adversity that comes my way in this quest. I will have to find or make other items from whatever the island can provide in its waters and trees, and I will get off this island. This box is only the beginning.
Entry 1
Welcome to my journal for my creative writing class at Longview Community College. I will be posting stories, poems, thoughts, etc. from time to time on here because for one its required to write a journal, and for two because I love to write.
I was going to write in a journal, but this is much more convenient and produces less cramps in the hand. I will not even mention how horrible my handwriting is. Even on my report cards in grade school that was always my worst grade. How can they even count that as a subject?
I am just rambling now because this is just an intro post to this journal. Hopefully I can let myself go and come up with some great stuff for this journal. Our teacher gave us 12 ideas of things to write about, which we must use 5. I am thinking of doing all 12 as sort of a personal challenge, and adding some other things from time to time.
I hope this ends up being very productive and creative, and I especially hope it is what the teacher is looking for. Although this is an assigment, I am going to write for me which I find is always the best way to write.
For now, I am off to finish other homework, and maybe I will come back and post a few more entries before the day is over. Thanks for reading and enjoy the ride.
- J. Young
I was going to write in a journal, but this is much more convenient and produces less cramps in the hand. I will not even mention how horrible my handwriting is. Even on my report cards in grade school that was always my worst grade. How can they even count that as a subject?
I am just rambling now because this is just an intro post to this journal. Hopefully I can let myself go and come up with some great stuff for this journal. Our teacher gave us 12 ideas of things to write about, which we must use 5. I am thinking of doing all 12 as sort of a personal challenge, and adding some other things from time to time.
I hope this ends up being very productive and creative, and I especially hope it is what the teacher is looking for. Although this is an assigment, I am going to write for me which I find is always the best way to write.
For now, I am off to finish other homework, and maybe I will come back and post a few more entries before the day is over. Thanks for reading and enjoy the ride.
- J. Young
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