Renee's Writing
Talk Readtilmidnight
This group has been archived. Find out more.
Join LibraryThing to post.
1VetaTorres
just a thought for a story though i dunno if i'll write more
It’s strange when you look back at your life years later. I am 92 years old with all my marbles still intact even though I need a walker to get anywhere. When you look back at your life and realize how much you’ve done and experienced it hits you how old you really are. I’ve had and lost love, survived wars, witnessed the moon landing and now the most excitement in my life is the weekly bingo game. When you’ve lived to 92 death isn’t such a scary idea, I’ve lived long enough that if I were to leave this life it wouldn’t be a shame, death is only a shame when someone has their whole life ahead of them.
I find myself telling anyone who will listen my life story some find it interesting others fall asleep and drool, well you can’ t blame them they’re as old as me. So when a young girl came to write a biography on me I agreed readily.
It’s strange when you look back at your life years later. I am 92 years old with all my marbles still intact even though I need a walker to get anywhere. When you look back at your life and realize how much you’ve done and experienced it hits you how old you really are. I’ve had and lost love, survived wars, witnessed the moon landing and now the most excitement in my life is the weekly bingo game. When you’ve lived to 92 death isn’t such a scary idea, I’ve lived long enough that if I were to leave this life it wouldn’t be a shame, death is only a shame when someone has their whole life ahead of them.
I find myself telling anyone who will listen my life story some find it interesting others fall asleep and drool, well you can’ t blame them they’re as old as me. So when a young girl came to write a biography on me I agreed readily.
2ragulto101
Interesting story Renee. You know I have a great grandmother who lives in Philippines and she turned 104 this year; she was even on the News.
Here Check it out:
Groovy grandma turns 104
abs-cbnNEWS.com | 06/19/2009 12:23 AM
MANILA - There are still people who live for more than a century despite the myriad of diseases and health problems bombarding the Philippines.
Yesterday, Lola Petra Sanggalang Agulto celebrated her 104th birthday in Quezon City from the comfort of her flower-patterned hospital bed. Although bedridden, she can still speak and remember details. She even remembers that she was born on a Wednesday, June 17, 1905.
Agulto said she felt some pains around her body, parts of which are riddled in liver spots, and she also suffers from swollen feet. These are bearable, she said, if she gets to suck on candy. She was reportedly confined at the hospital just this year.
Agulto was widowed in 1975 and jokingly said she is now too old for other suitors. She has 3 children and numerous grandchildren.
Asked what her secret to long life is, she said: "I don't know, I just lived to this age." Report from Jorge Carino, ABS-CBN News.
If you want to see a picture of her you can go on abs-cbnNews.com, then there will this little space where you can type words. You have to type Groovy Grandma turns 104; then click on the blue words that comes up.
When I read your story it reminded me of her.
Reggie
Here Check it out:
Groovy grandma turns 104
abs-cbnNEWS.com | 06/19/2009 12:23 AM
MANILA - There are still people who live for more than a century despite the myriad of diseases and health problems bombarding the Philippines.
Yesterday, Lola Petra Sanggalang Agulto celebrated her 104th birthday in Quezon City from the comfort of her flower-patterned hospital bed. Although bedridden, she can still speak and remember details. She even remembers that she was born on a Wednesday, June 17, 1905.
Agulto said she felt some pains around her body, parts of which are riddled in liver spots, and she also suffers from swollen feet. These are bearable, she said, if she gets to suck on candy. She was reportedly confined at the hospital just this year.
Agulto was widowed in 1975 and jokingly said she is now too old for other suitors. She has 3 children and numerous grandchildren.
Asked what her secret to long life is, she said: "I don't know, I just lived to this age." Report from Jorge Carino, ABS-CBN News.
If you want to see a picture of her you can go on abs-cbnNews.com, then there will this little space where you can type words. You have to type Groovy Grandma turns 104; then click on the blue words that comes up.
When I read your story it reminded me of her.
Reggie
3VetaTorres
that's really cool that it reminded u of her, and that's so cool that she's 104!
I noticed her name, my great grandma's name was Petra Torres
I noticed her name, my great grandma's name was Petra Torres
4VetaTorres
what do u think of this character:
Opal Spelman;clever, simple, observant, playful 19 yr old in 1932. she has a boyish figure (i.e. not curvy), dirty blonde, freckles, gray eyes, toned, and tall.
or do u like this one:
Leona Hughes; down-to-earth, sarcastic, adventurous, hot tempered 21 yr old in 1932. she's slightly tanned, dark curly brown hair, curvacious, with emerald green eyes.
i'm not sure which to use as a main character...
Opal Spelman;clever, simple, observant, playful 19 yr old in 1932. she has a boyish figure (i.e. not curvy), dirty blonde, freckles, gray eyes, toned, and tall.
or do u like this one:
Leona Hughes; down-to-earth, sarcastic, adventurous, hot tempered 21 yr old in 1932. she's slightly tanned, dark curly brown hair, curvacious, with emerald green eyes.
i'm not sure which to use as a main character...
5nele95
Omg Renee your story is sooooooooo cool. dang 104 I wish i could live that long!
For the main character I like Opal Spelman.
For the main character I like Opal Spelman.
6ragulto101
same here; Opal Spelman.
7VetaTorres
ok cool that's what i was thinking, i like the name too, its kinda different.
9VetaTorres
yeah i went on babynames.com and then theres this section for writers where you can look at us census lists from all the way to the late 1800s. so i looked at like 1915-1918 and got a big list of names and found Opal, and then i looked at british surnames and found spelman
11VetaTorres
Opal Spelman and the Pearl Murder
“Why is it raining?” Opal Spelman shouted out the window of her new car. It was a 1932 Ford, two door, V-8 Open Model in the beautiful Washington Blue with a cute tan top. She had begged her father for it and finally agreed to buy it for her. And now on their maiden voyage Opal and her new baby were being viciously rained on.
“How in the heck am I suppose to get to North Charleston in this weather?” again shouting to no one.
Grumbling she slowly drove. She had seen a sign saying, “Welcome to Hanahan, South Carolina”; at least she knew what town she was in. The rain steadily worsened. As she hated driving in storms Opal decided to pull over at the nearest house. Minutes later a huge mansion appeared to the right, and she drove down a narrow road that was beginning to flood, but reached to house safely.
“Hello, I’m sorry but I was wondering if could maybe stay a few minutes until the rain lifts?” Opal said to the butler while she dripped water on the wood floor. She was beginning to regret her decision; she didn’t know these people, it was wrong of here to assume that the homeowner would let her stay. Opal turned back to the door, ready to leave.
“Miss Spelman?”
“Yes,” Opal answered as she spun around.
“Why is it raining?” Opal Spelman shouted out the window of her new car. It was a 1932 Ford, two door, V-8 Open Model in the beautiful Washington Blue with a cute tan top. She had begged her father for it and finally agreed to buy it for her. And now on their maiden voyage Opal and her new baby were being viciously rained on.
“How in the heck am I suppose to get to North Charleston in this weather?” again shouting to no one.
Grumbling she slowly drove. She had seen a sign saying, “Welcome to Hanahan, South Carolina”; at least she knew what town she was in. The rain steadily worsened. As she hated driving in storms Opal decided to pull over at the nearest house. Minutes later a huge mansion appeared to the right, and she drove down a narrow road that was beginning to flood, but reached to house safely.
“Hello, I’m sorry but I was wondering if could maybe stay a few minutes until the rain lifts?” Opal said to the butler while she dripped water on the wood floor. She was beginning to regret her decision; she didn’t know these people, it was wrong of here to assume that the homeowner would let her stay. Opal turned back to the door, ready to leave.
“Miss Spelman?”
“Yes,” Opal answered as she spun around.
12ragulto101
Opal has a baby? What happened? HOW did it happened?
Oh and when she was about to leave the mansion who called her from behind? The butler, or someone else?
Oh and when she was about to leave the mansion who called her from behind? The butler, or someone else?
14VetaTorres
the baby is her car guys, sheesh!
and not sure yet about who the person who called Opal is.
and not sure yet about who the person who called Opal is.
16VetaTorres
the baby is the car, there is NO DADDY!!!!
17ragulto101
ohhhhhh. I get it now; she calls her car baby.
19ragulto101
me too.
I went back to the story after reading what Renee said and I realize it said 'V-8 Open Model in Washington Blue'.
I went back to the story after reading what Renee said and I realize it said 'V-8 Open Model in Washington Blue'.
21ragulto101
yeah, i guess me too! *laughs*
22VetaTorres
omg u guys make me laugh. but do u think what i've written is a good beginning?
23VetaTorres
ok so i wrote this story for my english class this past year.
Egyptian Excavation
Hull, England, 1929
Evie Watson stumbled out of the University of Hul's library, her arms full of books, overcoat billowing in the wind and her hat barely clinging to her hair. She walked carefully down the steps in front of the library, she cold hardly see past the pile of books in her arms.
"Miss Watson!" someone yelled in the distance.
Evie turned quickly and tripped on the last step; her books were sent flying. She fell hard on her knees but held in the expletives that came to mind.
"Oh Miss Watson I did not mean to startle you, are you alright?"
Looking up Evie realized it was Professor Peterson of the Egyptology Department. He helped her up and started collecting the books that lay scattered about.
"I'm quite alright thank you Professor. What can I do for you?" Evie said as she bent to pick up the book nearest to her.
"I need your help, before you leave campus."
Evie's interest was aroused, "What do you need my help with?"
The professor looked shifty, "I'd rather not talk about it out here in the open."
"Of course, the library is just there. Shall we go?" Evie said.
"Too many people can over hear, my office is not far." He said checking his back.
"Well let's go before it gets too dark." Evie felt as if someone was watching them; not the most pleasent feeling and Professor Peterson's odd behavior did not help matters.
Egyptian Excavation
Hull, England, 1929
Evie Watson stumbled out of the University of Hul's library, her arms full of books, overcoat billowing in the wind and her hat barely clinging to her hair. She walked carefully down the steps in front of the library, she cold hardly see past the pile of books in her arms.
"Miss Watson!" someone yelled in the distance.
Evie turned quickly and tripped on the last step; her books were sent flying. She fell hard on her knees but held in the expletives that came to mind.
"Oh Miss Watson I did not mean to startle you, are you alright?"
Looking up Evie realized it was Professor Peterson of the Egyptology Department. He helped her up and started collecting the books that lay scattered about.
"I'm quite alright thank you Professor. What can I do for you?" Evie said as she bent to pick up the book nearest to her.
"I need your help, before you leave campus."
Evie's interest was aroused, "What do you need my help with?"
The professor looked shifty, "I'd rather not talk about it out here in the open."
"Of course, the library is just there. Shall we go?" Evie said.
"Too many people can over hear, my office is not far." He said checking his back.
"Well let's go before it gets too dark." Evie felt as if someone was watching them; not the most pleasent feeling and Professor Peterson's odd behavior did not help matters.
24VetaTorres
(egyptian excavation)
The sky was darkening, a storm was approaching. It was the beginning of February and it was a cool forty-five degrees. The wind was icy and cut through Evie's wool coat. She now carried half the books she had earlier been struggling with, Professor Peterson now carried the other half of the load. The books she had borrowed from the university's library were all pertaining to her work towards her master's degree in Egyptology. Her dissertation was about Ancient Egyptian Religion and Ceremonies. Professor Peterson was her advisor and had been helping her through the rough drafts.
It was natural that Peterson would help her. He had been apart of her life as long as she could remember. Dr Watson, Evie's father, and Professor Peterson were longtime friends and colleagues After he past away a few years ago, Professor Peterson had taken her under his wing.
The sky was darkening, a storm was approaching. It was the beginning of February and it was a cool forty-five degrees. The wind was icy and cut through Evie's wool coat. She now carried half the books she had earlier been struggling with, Professor Peterson now carried the other half of the load. The books she had borrowed from the university's library were all pertaining to her work towards her master's degree in Egyptology. Her dissertation was about Ancient Egyptian Religion and Ceremonies. Professor Peterson was her advisor and had been helping her through the rough drafts.
It was natural that Peterson would help her. He had been apart of her life as long as she could remember. Dr Watson, Evie's father, and Professor Peterson were longtime friends and colleagues After he past away a few years ago, Professor Peterson had taken her under his wing.
26VetaTorres
thanks :) i get good ideas but i can never follow through. i guess when i get the right story i'll be able to finish.
(egyptian excavation)
As they made their way toward the history wing of the university, Evie began to imagine possible reasons that would cause her mentor's distress and unusual behavior. Professor Peterson had always been a loud, exuberant, charming man, never secretive or quiet.
Still continuing their brisk walk toward the professor's office she took in his overall apperance. Along with his change in behavior, his physical form had also changed. Instead of the plump, smiling man she had once known, he was thinner, paler. His once raven black hair with only silver frost along his temples, now was overrun with silver flecks. The energy that had shone in him now was only a faint glimmer. The ominous feeling she had in front of the library was growing stronger with her realization that something was wrong with Professor Peterson.
They reached the intended office and dumped their loads into an armchair off to the side of the room. The professor sighed and sat down behind his ornate desk. The desk itself was cluttered with many of the artifacts he had recovered in Egypt that he was still examining: scarabs, idols, and amulets. Though the items were barely visible under the mess of paper work and books spread across the top.
Evie sat opposite him in a plush, high back chair, "Now Professor what is it that you need my help with?"
He sighed again. "I recieved a letter this afternoon. Here read it." Peterson produced an envelope out of the pile of papers.
Before Evie started reading, he said, "You know, of course, that I have just returned from my trip to Egypt, and while I was there I met a rather unscrupulous group of people. This is from them."
Evie was slightly confused, but very much intrigued, she opened the letter and read: YOU have taken something that is not yours and DO NOT understand. RETURN it if you cherish your LIFE and those of people CLOSE to YOU.
She looked up at Professor Peterson wide-eyed, the effect exaggerated her big blue eyes. He shied away from her gaze and pulled out a small card from the pile of papers.
"This arrived a half hour ago."
Evie took the card from him, it read: WE ARE WATCHING, START PACKING
(egyptian excavation)
As they made their way toward the history wing of the university, Evie began to imagine possible reasons that would cause her mentor's distress and unusual behavior. Professor Peterson had always been a loud, exuberant, charming man, never secretive or quiet.
Still continuing their brisk walk toward the professor's office she took in his overall apperance. Along with his change in behavior, his physical form had also changed. Instead of the plump, smiling man she had once known, he was thinner, paler. His once raven black hair with only silver frost along his temples, now was overrun with silver flecks. The energy that had shone in him now was only a faint glimmer. The ominous feeling she had in front of the library was growing stronger with her realization that something was wrong with Professor Peterson.
They reached the intended office and dumped their loads into an armchair off to the side of the room. The professor sighed and sat down behind his ornate desk. The desk itself was cluttered with many of the artifacts he had recovered in Egypt that he was still examining: scarabs, idols, and amulets. Though the items were barely visible under the mess of paper work and books spread across the top.
Evie sat opposite him in a plush, high back chair, "Now Professor what is it that you need my help with?"
He sighed again. "I recieved a letter this afternoon. Here read it." Peterson produced an envelope out of the pile of papers.
Before Evie started reading, he said, "You know, of course, that I have just returned from my trip to Egypt, and while I was there I met a rather unscrupulous group of people. This is from them."
Evie was slightly confused, but very much intrigued, she opened the letter and read: YOU have taken something that is not yours and DO NOT understand. RETURN it if you cherish your LIFE and those of people CLOSE to YOU.
She looked up at Professor Peterson wide-eyed, the effect exaggerated her big blue eyes. He shied away from her gaze and pulled out a small card from the pile of papers.
"This arrived a half hour ago."
Evie took the card from him, it read: WE ARE WATCHING, START PACKING
28VetaTorres
thank you i think this story is one of my better ones. :)
29VetaTorres
(egyptian excavation)
"My dear, please don't look at me like that. Am I to give in everytime I do something that others do not approve of? Or should I stand up like a man? I happen to be a rather proud man, Miss Watson, surely you know that." Professor Peterson said staring directly at Evie. His eyes ablaze, bring back some of the fire that was hidden beneath his worries.
"I do know that you are a very proud man, and it has often brought about problems." Evie said with a smirk coming to her small rosebud lips.
"So... Professor, what is it that you took?"
"Um, well it is a manuscript, a book. The only problem is that I cannot comprehend it. Its a form of early Coptic that I do not know."
"What are you going to do about returning it?"
Professor Peterson looked uncomfortable, "I don't need to return the book just yet. I haven't even studied it fully." He said like a four year old who doesn't want to share.
Nonplussed, Evie said, "Really, you think so? After receiving two threatening notes you're just going to sit here?"
"No.. I...Well..." the professor stuttered. "I should not be pressured by criminals, I am a scholar, not a thief!"
"I do agree Professor." Evie said mulling over the situation. "But I think they have proven that they are not to be ignored. What would I do if they hurt you, or worse, if they killed you?"
His face softened. She said, "Having no parents and you murdered, would be..." tears pricked her eyes. She quickly blinked them away.
"Evie, please don't be upset, nothing is going to happen to me. I'll begin preperations for my trip back to Egypt, right away."
"Your trip, Professor? It will be our trip to Egypt." Evie said suddenly.
"No, Miss Watson, you will not be going."
"Why not? I suppose you think I cannot handle going there?"
"It's not that, my dear, I just think that this is my problem not yours." Professor Peterson answered again not looking at her.
"You made it my problem when you told me what has happened. You're not going to return the book at all, are you?" Evie said, trying to catch the old man in his lie.
"I am appalled that you think so low of my character!" He said, a look of fake shock crossed his face and then he grinned, "You know me too well."
"Unfortunately, Professor, that is true."
Evie finally convinced Professor Peterson to let her go, after agreeing to learn the translation of the manuscript. Both agreed this should be done in Egypt, and soon, before anymore letters arrived.
Professor Peterson handled the entire transportation and sleeping arrangments. They planned to leave the next day, as soon as the next train from Hull to Dover left, where they would board a ship headed to Egypt. Once in Egypt they would uncover the true nature of the book while avoiding the dangerous men that wanted the book. Then they would quietly put the manuscript back where the professor had found it. The plan sounded well thought out and logically perfectly acceptable to Evie's mind.
"My dear, please don't look at me like that. Am I to give in everytime I do something that others do not approve of? Or should I stand up like a man? I happen to be a rather proud man, Miss Watson, surely you know that." Professor Peterson said staring directly at Evie. His eyes ablaze, bring back some of the fire that was hidden beneath his worries.
"I do know that you are a very proud man, and it has often brought about problems." Evie said with a smirk coming to her small rosebud lips.
"So... Professor, what is it that you took?"
"Um, well it is a manuscript, a book. The only problem is that I cannot comprehend it. Its a form of early Coptic that I do not know."
"What are you going to do about returning it?"
Professor Peterson looked uncomfortable, "I don't need to return the book just yet. I haven't even studied it fully." He said like a four year old who doesn't want to share.
Nonplussed, Evie said, "Really, you think so? After receiving two threatening notes you're just going to sit here?"
"No.. I...Well..." the professor stuttered. "I should not be pressured by criminals, I am a scholar, not a thief!"
"I do agree Professor." Evie said mulling over the situation. "But I think they have proven that they are not to be ignored. What would I do if they hurt you, or worse, if they killed you?"
His face softened. She said, "Having no parents and you murdered, would be..." tears pricked her eyes. She quickly blinked them away.
"Evie, please don't be upset, nothing is going to happen to me. I'll begin preperations for my trip back to Egypt, right away."
"Your trip, Professor? It will be our trip to Egypt." Evie said suddenly.
"No, Miss Watson, you will not be going."
"Why not? I suppose you think I cannot handle going there?"
"It's not that, my dear, I just think that this is my problem not yours." Professor Peterson answered again not looking at her.
"You made it my problem when you told me what has happened. You're not going to return the book at all, are you?" Evie said, trying to catch the old man in his lie.
"I am appalled that you think so low of my character!" He said, a look of fake shock crossed his face and then he grinned, "You know me too well."
"Unfortunately, Professor, that is true."
Evie finally convinced Professor Peterson to let her go, after agreeing to learn the translation of the manuscript. Both agreed this should be done in Egypt, and soon, before anymore letters arrived.
Professor Peterson handled the entire transportation and sleeping arrangments. They planned to leave the next day, as soon as the next train from Hull to Dover left, where they would board a ship headed to Egypt. Once in Egypt they would uncover the true nature of the book while avoiding the dangerous men that wanted the book. Then they would quietly put the manuscript back where the professor had found it. The plan sounded well thought out and logically perfectly acceptable to Evie's mind.
30VetaTorres
(egyptian excavation)
Dover Express
"You are in compartment 3C." The train attendant informed Evie. She thanked him and made her way down the narrow corridor.
"4C,4B,4A, ah...here we are 3C." She muttered to herself.
Professor Peterson had left her to find a fellow professor that they would be traveling with. The other professor had apparently worked on the dig with Professor Peterson, and had told the man about the events that unfolded after returning to Hull University. Hearing this he offered to return to Egypt and help with the translation.
Evie put her luggage on the rack above the seats. They were traveling coach, Professor Peterson had planned first class but every seat was filled. Not wanting to wait for another train he booked the coach tickets.
"Beastly place! Evie, did you know I have never traveled anything other than first class? Believe me I won't be doing this again!" Professor Peterson announced entering the compartment, with him a young man walked in. He couldn't have been much older than Evie, twenty-five, maybe twenty-six.
"Oh, my dear let me introduce Professor Tony Bellisario of the Languages Department at Harvard University. Professor this is Miss Evie Watson."
Professor Bellisario shook Evie's hand, "Please, just call me Tony."
The young professor smiled. The three sat down as the train began to move. They made polite conversation for some time before being absorbed into their own activities.
Professor Peterson flipped through a large book, reading different sections trying to find something that would help him translate the manuscript. Tony picked up the newspaper he had bought before boarding the train. Meanwhile, Evie tried to read a novel but could not focus. She took to observing her surroundings.
Evie looked at Tony Bellisario. He was tall; she estimated that he was six foot, with an olive complexion and dark unruly brown hair. One curl fell out of place, attracting notice to his deep cobalt blue eyes. His eyes seemed to gleam as he found articles that interested him. Evie wanted to ask what he was reading, but her polite reserve held her back, she did not want to seem too forward. She decided that he had a pleasent smile, it showed that he was genuinely happy.
Dover Express
"You are in compartment 3C." The train attendant informed Evie. She thanked him and made her way down the narrow corridor.
"4C,4B,4A, ah...here we are 3C." She muttered to herself.
Professor Peterson had left her to find a fellow professor that they would be traveling with. The other professor had apparently worked on the dig with Professor Peterson, and had told the man about the events that unfolded after returning to Hull University. Hearing this he offered to return to Egypt and help with the translation.
Evie put her luggage on the rack above the seats. They were traveling coach, Professor Peterson had planned first class but every seat was filled. Not wanting to wait for another train he booked the coach tickets.
"Beastly place! Evie, did you know I have never traveled anything other than first class? Believe me I won't be doing this again!" Professor Peterson announced entering the compartment, with him a young man walked in. He couldn't have been much older than Evie, twenty-five, maybe twenty-six.
"Oh, my dear let me introduce Professor Tony Bellisario of the Languages Department at Harvard University. Professor this is Miss Evie Watson."
Professor Bellisario shook Evie's hand, "Please, just call me Tony."
The young professor smiled. The three sat down as the train began to move. They made polite conversation for some time before being absorbed into their own activities.
Professor Peterson flipped through a large book, reading different sections trying to find something that would help him translate the manuscript. Tony picked up the newspaper he had bought before boarding the train. Meanwhile, Evie tried to read a novel but could not focus. She took to observing her surroundings.
Evie looked at Tony Bellisario. He was tall; she estimated that he was six foot, with an olive complexion and dark unruly brown hair. One curl fell out of place, attracting notice to his deep cobalt blue eyes. His eyes seemed to gleam as he found articles that interested him. Evie wanted to ask what he was reading, but her polite reserve held her back, she did not want to seem too forward. She decided that he had a pleasent smile, it showed that he was genuinely happy.
31VetaTorres
New writing:
Somewhere in the distance I hear music. Oh right, its my alarm, before I even let the song register in my brain I hit "snooze". Ten minutes later after completely going back to sleep I hear the music again. This time I let the music continue. as I lay there, in bed, I realize how warm and snug my bed is, and how soft my pillow is. I nuzzle my face into my scratchy yet soft pillow and peek at the clock, 6:20, better get up. I throw off the blankets and head to the bathroom. I turn on the light but don't open my eyes. As I sit on the toliet I squint and let my eyes adjust to the sudden light. I quickly wash my hands in luke warm water, dry my hands, and go back to my room. I stumble over my shoes that I wore yesterday and grab my outfit for the day off my chair and sit on my bed. I check the clock and it reads 6:26, four minutes to get dressed. I don't know why but I always make sure I am dressed before 6:30. I guess it's a habit I have developed over the years for not wasting time. As I ponder over my dressing habits I listen to composer Adrian Johnson who wrote the original score for the movie, "Becoming Jane". I love the music because it makes me feel some kind of emotion, yet it has no lyrics. Some songs make me smile and others make my heart break all without saying a single word, I find it amazing. After I finish tying my shoelaces I look in the mirror and readjust my shirt, turn off my iPod and check the clock once more, 6:31. "Right on time" I think and leave my bedroom and head for the kitchen. I heat the news on the T.V. before I see it as I walk down the hallway. I don't bother to listen, I don't have time to watch the news. Lights are on in the kitchen and I can smell burnt toast in the toaster,obviously, where else would toast be. My mom says "Hi" to me but I grumble back, which I suppose she has gotten used to since I am definately not a morning person. Funnily enough I'm not a night person, I am a midday kind of person I suppose. I love 11:00 to 3:00. Those are the best times to eat also. I hate eating in the morning which it why I drink breakfest. Instead of eating a piece of toast and ceral I drink a Slimfast. I'm not trying to lose weight, it's just that I can't stomache food in the early hours of the day. I grab the can of Slimfast out of the fridge: shake it, open, and stick a straw in it. I then head back to my room and sit down in front of my vanity. There I put on my make-up. As hard as it may be to believe I put make-up on for myself. I like the way I look with it rather than with out it. The same routine every morning: foundation, powder, blush, eyeshadow, and mascara. Once in a while I'll change it up and wear eyeliner but that's when I'm really feeling crazy. When I finish I check the clock again, 6:42. I go to kitchen and throw my can of Slimfast away and head to the bathroom. I turn the water on and run my toothbrush under it and then turn the water back off. I spend time making sure my teeth look and feel clean. I smile at myself in the mirror, check the time, 6:50, return to my room and put on my favorite pink lipstick and rub my lips together. I then grab my school and practice bags, say good-bye to my mom and get in my car.
"Shit its cold" I say to myself getting in my icey car, I put it in reverse and back out of the drive way blasting Kay Perry's "One of the Boys". Time for another lovely day at school, unfortunately.
Somewhere in the distance I hear music. Oh right, its my alarm, before I even let the song register in my brain I hit "snooze". Ten minutes later after completely going back to sleep I hear the music again. This time I let the music continue. as I lay there, in bed, I realize how warm and snug my bed is, and how soft my pillow is. I nuzzle my face into my scratchy yet soft pillow and peek at the clock, 6:20, better get up. I throw off the blankets and head to the bathroom. I turn on the light but don't open my eyes. As I sit on the toliet I squint and let my eyes adjust to the sudden light. I quickly wash my hands in luke warm water, dry my hands, and go back to my room. I stumble over my shoes that I wore yesterday and grab my outfit for the day off my chair and sit on my bed. I check the clock and it reads 6:26, four minutes to get dressed. I don't know why but I always make sure I am dressed before 6:30. I guess it's a habit I have developed over the years for not wasting time. As I ponder over my dressing habits I listen to composer Adrian Johnson who wrote the original score for the movie, "Becoming Jane". I love the music because it makes me feel some kind of emotion, yet it has no lyrics. Some songs make me smile and others make my heart break all without saying a single word, I find it amazing. After I finish tying my shoelaces I look in the mirror and readjust my shirt, turn off my iPod and check the clock once more, 6:31. "Right on time" I think and leave my bedroom and head for the kitchen. I heat the news on the T.V. before I see it as I walk down the hallway. I don't bother to listen, I don't have time to watch the news. Lights are on in the kitchen and I can smell burnt toast in the toaster,obviously, where else would toast be. My mom says "Hi" to me but I grumble back, which I suppose she has gotten used to since I am definately not a morning person. Funnily enough I'm not a night person, I am a midday kind of person I suppose. I love 11:00 to 3:00. Those are the best times to eat also. I hate eating in the morning which it why I drink breakfest. Instead of eating a piece of toast and ceral I drink a Slimfast. I'm not trying to lose weight, it's just that I can't stomache food in the early hours of the day. I grab the can of Slimfast out of the fridge: shake it, open, and stick a straw in it. I then head back to my room and sit down in front of my vanity. There I put on my make-up. As hard as it may be to believe I put make-up on for myself. I like the way I look with it rather than with out it. The same routine every morning: foundation, powder, blush, eyeshadow, and mascara. Once in a while I'll change it up and wear eyeliner but that's when I'm really feeling crazy. When I finish I check the clock again, 6:42. I go to kitchen and throw my can of Slimfast away and head to the bathroom. I turn the water on and run my toothbrush under it and then turn the water back off. I spend time making sure my teeth look and feel clean. I smile at myself in the mirror, check the time, 6:50, return to my room and put on my favorite pink lipstick and rub my lips together. I then grab my school and practice bags, say good-bye to my mom and get in my car.
"Shit its cold" I say to myself getting in my icey car, I put it in reverse and back out of the drive way blasting Kay Perry's "One of the Boys". Time for another lovely day at school, unfortunately.
32VetaTorres
does anyone even read this forum?? oh well I shall type for my own pleasure.
33SecretariatGirl
Love it!!!
You're great! You make an ordinary morning interesting....I love Katy Perry!
You're great! You make an ordinary morning interesting....I love Katy Perry!
34VetaTorres
aw thanks i wrote for school last year.
and I know i love her! she's unique
and I know i love her! she's unique
36VetaTorres
oh well generally after you read something you post something...
38VetaTorres
no worries, you just sound exasperated...
39VetaTorres
New:
There were four clocks hanging on each wall of the closet, in each of the four directions: north, south, east and west. Each clock looked different. The north clock was a wooden sun with the numbers painted in a rich blue. The east clock was of twisted wrought iron worked to look like vines with the clock face set in the center. The south clock was neon orange plastic in the shape of a pentagon with black numbers and hands. The West clock was a giant and round; it was tan and black and looked as if it was weathered by the sun.
It's strange to see these four clocks in a walk-in closet but to Maya it was just her mother's closet. Today, though, there was something strange about the clocks. She had been downstairs in the kitchen when she heard a ticking sound, she searched the house and found that it was coming from the master bedroom. She walked into the closet and all the clocks were running backwards, all four of them. She went to the closest one, the south clock, and tried to reset it. She checked her sell phone and changed the time. Maya put it back on the wall and watched as it reverted to the time the other three clocks were at. Confused, she tried to fix the rest of the clocks, and changed back to reverse time.
Maya stood there for what seemed like a long time until she heard the house phone ring. Just as she got to the phone it stopped. Frustrated she went back to the kitchen where she had been doing homework. As she tried to concentrate on Trigonometry, she could still her the annoying ticking coming from upstairs.
There were four clocks hanging on each wall of the closet, in each of the four directions: north, south, east and west. Each clock looked different. The north clock was a wooden sun with the numbers painted in a rich blue. The east clock was of twisted wrought iron worked to look like vines with the clock face set in the center. The south clock was neon orange plastic in the shape of a pentagon with black numbers and hands. The West clock was a giant and round; it was tan and black and looked as if it was weathered by the sun.
It's strange to see these four clocks in a walk-in closet but to Maya it was just her mother's closet. Today, though, there was something strange about the clocks. She had been downstairs in the kitchen when she heard a ticking sound, she searched the house and found that it was coming from the master bedroom. She walked into the closet and all the clocks were running backwards, all four of them. She went to the closest one, the south clock, and tried to reset it. She checked her sell phone and changed the time. Maya put it back on the wall and watched as it reverted to the time the other three clocks were at. Confused, she tried to fix the rest of the clocks, and changed back to reverse time.
Maya stood there for what seemed like a long time until she heard the house phone ring. Just as she got to the phone it stopped. Frustrated she went back to the kitchen where she had been doing homework. As she tried to concentrate on Trigonometry, she could still her the annoying ticking coming from upstairs.
