Friday, September 26, 2008

I'm back huuuhhhh

Okay I thought that I was going on a real vacation so I said I was going on blogation. The trips got canceled and so I am canceling my blogation. I may not write as much though. To me it feels like Saturday: I woke up late due to medication changes, I ate cold stroganoff with my fingers while I made scrambled eggs with too much cheese, I have no school, and I am going to a movie. Today is almost like Saturday with the exception that Sunday is not tomorrow. I like it. I know what I'm going to be for Hallowe'en and you don't. I don't know what Mom is getting in the mail for me but I think it is going to be good. I'm taller then her.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008


I just want you to know that I am joining my dad on his blogation. When I told my mom she was sad. Isn't that odd? It is to me. How could anyone enjoy reading my blog?

Here is something I want you to think about: Why did you read Harry Potter? Why do you like it? Tell me and I will see it latter. Fare well or I will get angry at you.

PS I would have already left but it isn't raining.

Friday, September 19, 2008


I did this poem for homework. Can't you just tell that I can't write an upbeat poem?


Land of …

Seashores, oily as a teen’s hair,

Vibrant forests with retreating borders,

Mystical towering mountains capped with acid rain,

Dirty rivers flowing with poisons,

Soon to be excavated plains of dead grass.

America, Land of…

Confused people who steal for loved ones,

People who need hopeful dreams of…

“The free and the brave.”

“God bless America,

My home sweet home.”

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


I'm sorry. Last night I wrote Things I like about books but forgot to tell you that I have reworked the outline. It looks much more promising and I can throw in some foreshadowing. I like foreshadowing. When I blog there is just so much I want to write that I end up getting side tracked from my original idea. (I didn't this time!)

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Things I like about books

When I started writing a book (now that I look back) I barely knew anything about it. If you read it you would be able to tell that my style of writing changed a lot. I tried to write down a story outline because I wasn't really sure what was going to happen right before the end. When I was half way through I read it over. It sucked. There wasn't anything interesting to catch the reader's attention. I told people that it would be for a very patient reader. Latter I realized that I'm not that patient. If I like the title of a book then I'll read the first paragraph. If it doesn't grab me I put it back. Back to my outline...nothing happened for most of the book. So I ditched the part where I introduce the characters. Sadly, but still a good thing, the unneeded boring part was cut. That was a good lesson for me. When I started writing I didn't have very many ideas so I was reluctant to get rid of the not-so-okay ones. My sister Libby started me on this whole writing a book thing. She would write (and she needed practice like I did) but she won't let me shape her ideas. I'm only trying to help her. They are wonderful ideas but, to be practical, they need shaping to work smoothly.

Things I like about books:
  1. I learn
  2. I forget that I have a life
  3. They make me tired
  4. I get to know someone else's thoughts
  5. It gives me ideas
  6. I learn about real life situations without living them
  7. I can care about the characters
  8. I need to finish
  9. It's a way to pass time
  10. They smell good
  11. They are a good thing to be obsessed with
  12. I can write my own
  13. They are simple to use (no stupid buttons)
  14. I don't have to please them ( I choose to serve them)
  15. They love me and I know for sure
  16. They are much more interesting then that algebra I was supposed to do
I'm sure there are more, I just can't remember them. Good night. (That's a sentence fragment!)

Monday, September 15, 2008

My voice is back! Funny that I didn't even realize that it was gone. You're probably thinking, 'How did she ever find out at all?' I'm not writing about my vocal cords. My writer's voice was gone for a day or two and I didn't know until it came back.

Oh no! The magistra has awoken. Haha she just found out her early bird student isn't up yet. Instead it's just me and littlest sis (who is watching TV. Wait and let me see what it is. Ah Dragon Tales. Hum diddly dumb.) Now Libby is up.

So my voice kept me up last night and woke me up this morning. I had planed to wake up early (9:00!) because I have an appointment with the Doc at 1:00. But instead I woke up at 6:00 (no I am not going to complain about how tired I am. It hasn't hit me yet.). You know it's funny how annoying my voice is because it comes on and I space out (I don't mind during grammar lessons). I was reading poetry out loud to help me memorize it and my voice came on, I spaced out, and continued read. I was working on two different things at the same time. How cool is that! I should probably get back to school before the magistra kicks me off. (That's what you get for buying a computer program for Algebra!)

The answer for my post True or False is: False, Lynn already fell for Arty. The magistra said she would try to keep me away from guys in school uniforms. (You can try*evil laugh*) I made myself smile. There was something else I wanted to post about but I (hate the caps on this computer) can't remember what it was. Ha! I remembered what it was (with some help). Darn, I can't any more and I'm serious. Okay I remember. I don't think I can continue the deviled eggs about the girl in the car. It's not interesting to me anymore. If you want I will tell you in a short Lynn version. I need to do school. Oh, I was looking ahead on the poetry mem. and there was this poem:

Persevere [Author Unknown]

The fisher who draws in his net too soon,
Won't have any fish to sell;
The child who shuts up his book too soon,
Won't learn any lessons well.

If you would have your learning stay,
Be patient--don't learn too fast;
The man who travels a mile each day,
May get 'round the world at last.

I thought it was cool until the magistra told me she was going to add some things to school today. The Aeneid would be nice but I think I might space out during grammar. Oh, well. I've wasted enough time doing this instead of school (and I have more to do this day and an appointment!).

PS I just found out that my IQ is 124. Is that good?

Saturday, September 13, 2008

I have to choose another title?

I have most of my ideas in bed. At night the house is quiet (sort of) and I have time to stop and think. Sometimes I have some in the morning. So I have decided that when I get my own house I will stay up late and tap into my most creative time. Oh, about my dream house, I'm not going to try to sound professional because it hurts my head. I'm glad my writers block is over.

My house is in Ireland (I was joking about China). As you walk up the path you will see that on the outside is white and you will start to hear loud music (:D). When you are on the large porch, where I spend my evenings lazying around, the music will be unbearable. It is so loud that it takes me awhile to hear you knocking on the door because there is no doorbell. While you are waiting you admire my flowers. All of a sudden the music is turned off and I answer the door, claiming that a sales person comes this time every week. I can tell that you don't believe me but I offer to show you around anyway. First is the living room which you saw over my shoulder. You notice how drearily blue-gray it is but, being related to me for to long, you don't comment. The ceiling is vaulted in the living room. From the door, to your left the wall is covered with windows. In front of you is furniture beyond that, a wall covered in book cases. You don't see the TV so you ask where it is. I smile guiltily and say that I can't remember. Then I tell you I want you to see something. Up the stairs behind the furniture are two rooms that have no wall to separate them from the living room. The view through the windows is wonderful but you can't help noticing the piles of papers covering the floor of my study/bedroom. (Thanks for the lemonade, Libby. It's the best I've ever tasted.) As we head down the stairs I tell you that I thought about jumping off the ledge onto the couch. You're shocked but I quickly say that I chickened out. I'm excited to show you the bathroom under my bedroom. It's olive green, spacious, and has a fish tank. Giggling is all you get when you tell me that you like my choice in colors. Next I show you down a hall that is right before the stairs. At the end is a kitchen and dining room combined. To the left is another hall which leads to four bedrooms. All of them are white and I explain that when I get a husband and kids they get to choose the colors. Above the rooms is a padio on the roof. Proudly I introduce you to my garden. We sit in chairs and catch up on each other.

Drawing pictures is easier. So back to ideas. I wrote The Wind Is Blowing this morning.

The Wind Is Blowing

The wind is coming
Go run and hide
The wind is coming
Try not to die

The wind is coming
And it's gonna be big
The wind is blowing
So dance your worry jig

The wind is blowing
The rain is here
The wind is blowing
The rain is fear

The wind is blowing
Come save the day
The wind is blowing
But it'll be okay

I wrote these awhile ago. (Don't ask me what any of them mean)

The Blood Of Thoughts

A wounded thought you once will find

The blood of which pools in the mind

Stopping the other thoughts from coming

While your original thoughts keep on drumming

Knocking the memories out of your head

Until the day that you are dead

(I don't have a name for this one)

I wonder what I think all the night long

Could it be another's song?

Drifting in this soothing state

Who is one to debate

Left or right, up or down

But I'll never wear a frown

Because this world inside my mind

Is better than any other you'll find

I Don't Want To Help Me

Strapped to a chair

I scream my own name

Why won't I come to help me

Lying in bed

I wish I were dead

Why won't I come to help me

In a room with a stranger

I try to answer what I can't

Why won't I come to help me

Maybe I'm strapped to a chair

Singing my name

That's why I can't come to help me

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

True or False

Lynn has such a big crush on Harry Potter that she claims she hates the books.

Well, what do you think? True or false?

Monday, September 8, 2008

Mine deviled eggs

People want me to give them some of my deviled eggs. Sorry, they're mine (which means that I haven't written enough). My stories are too long and complicated (and I haven't finished them yet). I could try a short story but.... I haven't a clue what will come out of that bran of mine if I didn't plan it out beforehand. I thought of this beginning while I was waiting in the car. It's filed in my bran under 'random thoughts that could make me famous some day if I can fit it into a story.' (I made myself smile) Here goes:

'Waiting isn't boring, it's just.... slow. Not that I don't mind slow. Waiting is uneventful. That's it: uneventful. No, it can't be uneventful because the leaves on that tree are blowing. I guess you could call watching them an event.' She gave up trying to describe waiting. Waiting was waiting and it didn't matter if she knew how to describe it or not. Instead she let her mind wander. Being a worrier, her mind went straight for all the possibilities of what could go wrong before her mom got back. 'Someone could open the car door and drive away with me. That would be an adventure.' Just to check that she hadn't jinxed herself, she looked over at the driver's seat. At first she didn't believe it. But soon she realized she had jinxed herself. Leaning through the open window was a man reaching for the keys. It seemed to her that she didn't even think before she decided that getting the keys and running would be the best thing to do. If that didn't work, she would find something to fight him with.

How (I hate the caps on this computer!) was that? If this was a book would you like to read more or do you have better things to do? Do you like my writing voice or does it need to develop? I would love some constructive criticism. Or just criticism would do........(criticism has too many eyes)

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Much ado about stuff you shouldn't care about

This year I have realized something very important: I'm just I kid. I don't need to find a job anytime soon. I need to get an education and experience. If only I could stop worrying about it and somehow get the ideas out of my head. If only I could write them into books but then I would get more to replace them. Life is a circle and I'm a square. Do you know that song It's hip to be a square? Well it's not. Sometimes I wake up and I smile because I like myself. I get up, make my bed, and take my pills. As soon as I see those pills on my dresser I don't like myself anymore. Old people are the ones who are supposed to take the pills but here I am, thirteen years old and taking Prozac. The commercials about depression freak me out. I feel alone even thought I know my family loves me and other people are depressed too. Actually, knowing that other people are depressed too is not a nice feeling. It's not like depressed people get together and have a party. Ether no one would come, no one would stay, or everyone would stay away from each other. Whatever the reason, the party would suck, wasting time, space, money, and time. I need to write about something else. I know! I'll write about my dream house for a writing assignment that I need to do or I'll stop developing my writers voice. Okay, my mansion is in China and I pay my sisters to be my slaves. I'm just kidding. Why would I want my sisters to make my bed? They can't do it the way I like it. And they would tattle about the men that come over at night. I made myself smile! I need to tell you about how I am when I have this house. Please remember that this is just what I see when I daydream. I'm twenty, a rich writer, and unmarried. I hide in my home because it is so beautiful. Dang! all I was missing was the a or I would have had it. Here is the real thing:

My Dream Home
My dream house is on a mountainside over looking a foggy forest. I can view this beautiful (Hay Mom, I spelled it right! Aren't you prowd of me? (I made myself smile again!) I've gotta put that on a shirt) forest through large windows that cover one wall in the living room.

All right! I'm done. Drawing pictures is soooooooo much easier (I spelled that right too (is that right to have two Os?)) You get the main ideas for now. I'll work on it latter. If I don't, you guys are my relatives so you can ask me at the next family reunion (I know that wasn't right). Hay Dad, how long do you think it will take Mom to find out that I posted something if I don't show her?

Friday, September 5, 2008


I've been trying to learn how to write a screenplay. Books are my best option so I got some from the library. The Complete Idiot's Guide To Screenwriting was not what I wanted. I want to learn how to write a screenplay not how difficult Hollywood is. Finally, I decided half way through the book to stop and start the next one. It looks promising. Oh, and I redid my bookshelf. Now instead of tripping over piles of library books I can look at my full book case and smile. If I could only read all of those books I would be even happier. My friend reads really fast and is smart but I slowed down when I started to write. I have realized that reading fast isn't that great. To be a writer you need to pay full attention to the plot, characters, and how the author ties it all together. My friend still writes really well. I don't know how she has time to do all the things she does.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Winter is coming. YAY!

Yesterday I was sleeping over at my older sister's house so I didn't start school. (She isn't that old, she's just older then me.) Today I did. Actually that is what I'm supposed to be doing right now. By the way, I'm home schooled so I get to sleep in, read what I want, and talk my teacher into things. Less homework, more lunch: just the way I like my day. And I don't have to worry about fashion or other teens being around me. I am so excited that the neighborhood kids will soon stop ringing the doorbell and winter is coming. Winter twilights are so beautiful. I painted my room that color. Winter evenings are the only times that I open my window all the way instead of peeking through the shade. When I peek through the shade any other time I am blinded. Too much sunshine and too much heat: not the way I like it. The faster winter comes the happier I'll be. The faster I get used to school the less my brain will tickle.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Pool of consciousness

When I daydream, it's like I am watching a movie that my subconscious is showing me. People sometimes say that my ideas are interesting. I just want you to know that it's not my fault I'm a daydreamer. The mind is like a pool. When I see my mind as a pool it is dreary, dark, and deep. That is just what I see. The surface of the pool is your awake mind. As it gets deeper you lose consciousness. Water currents move around down there and some rare precious times, deeper water will surface. Some people have clearer pools (not me). I wish I could jump in and get soaked through the bone with inspiration that I know is in there. Then maybe I could ignore the world. PS When you die the pool doesn't dry up, you jump in and never surface.

Monday, September 1, 2008

One of the thoughts I wanted got away

I haven't been writing my book lately because it wasn't going well. A week ago I decided to write down a book outline but realized that the first part of the book, the introductions to the two main characters, was boring. If the beginning of a book is boring then people won't want to read it and I will have worked for nothing. So I stopped writing for awhile and read books on how to write a book. They helped a lot. When I wrote the book outline I never finished it. The end of my book is the hardest part but I really wanted to figure it out before I wrote it. I don't think that is going to happen unless I have some huge dream that explains everything(they have come back and they are really annoying). Last night I was thinking about how to start the book and I had a wonderful period of time that was filled with words to write. Fool that I am, I went too far and couldn't remember the first sentence. I do remember that it was perfect. I am so angry at myself. I should tell that to my psychologist. Things I should tell her: I don't want to dream anymore, I feel angry again, and feeling happy is something I am willing to give up to ignore my stupid feelings. I should tell my doctor that I am willing to have a pimply face if I can have dairy in the mornings again. Can't you just tell that I don't do well when all I had for breakfast was a slice of zucchini? My sleep hasn't improved but I'm not as tired. I am annoyed.