Reel life

1. One of my favorite movies is Drive, because I love the romance, the aggression and Ryan Gosling. I think it's a beautiful story and I love the action that comes with it. The way it's filmed is like you are looking into a dream, especially when Irene and him are in the elevator kissing and after he kills the man that is in there with them. 

2. I don't care for scifi, or anything that isn't real because it isn't reality and I want to know reality.I don't want to get washed up away in a fairytale, I like to know reality and I think movies that have that are the best.

3. I usually watch a lot of movies in my room, on my laptop, but lately I have been really into watching Friends so I haven't been watching a lot of movies.

4. To watch a movie I need quiet and a snack or drink. 

5. The quiz told me that I am 67 %agreeable, 92% open to new experiences, 42% emotionally stable, 83% conscientious, and 50% extroverted. I don't really agree with the extroverted thing because I really am the quiet type but I loved the movies it picked for me. Some of them are When Harry Met Sally, Angela's Ashes, and Meet the Parents.

6. If my life story was made into a movie, AnnaSophia Robb would play me. The movie would be about a girl with dreams who is constantly knocked down by life's inevitable doom. The ending would be happy though because I like movies with happy endings.

Six word story

I am swimming in glue bottles

Writers as Readers

1. When I read I need my environment to be completely quiet or else I can't concentrate. I would prefer to have like cherry juice or coffee within reach of my hand, but if not I guess thats okay.

2. I love love love murder mystery books, or romance, or stuff that is really sad. I don't know but it just interests me, I love romantic books because I am a hopless romantic and that kind of stuff just makes me happy. I can't really explain why I love murder mystery or sad books but I think it's really intriguing to read into other people's lives.

9. "When I finished reading" Crank I was angry afterwards because the ending was really sad and the mom left her baby to go be a drug addict.

10. I feel like people can make their own decisions in life and if they are scared to read a book about witchcraft because they are afraid that they will become one with the devil, then they obviously are easily swayed and should have more of an open mind. I don't think a book like Harry Potter could make anyone convert to something like witchcraft unless that is your thing and you are a diehard fan. My grandma is super religous and believes in God and she read the books and it didn't change her, it is merely entertainment.

12. I think that if you do read more, it could help you with your imagination or finding new vocabulary, it just depends what type of writer you are and if something sways you or catches your eye then it could definitely help with your writing. Sometimes I pick up words or phrases from t.v. shows as well, so it depends on the person.

          

Memorable Passage

Something is smashing my chest- and anchor, gravity. Soon I'll cave in on myself. I stumble upstairs and yank on the jeans and tank top I wore yesterday. Then I'm out the door, up the street, around the corner to the bus stop. Dad calls my name but I don't shout back.

To me this passage reminds me of how I feel sometimes about going to school or just how I feel day to day when I am feeling really low. Like I just don't want to do anything because I feel like everything is weighing me down. Whenever I'm sad, I usually don't like to talk and so I like how the book says that she doesn't yell back.

This set of words caught my eye because I can relate and I like the imagery with the way the words sounded together.

Whatever

It all started with my mother making us go to church, I remember her waking me up forcing me to get out of bed and it made me hate going there, it was that kind of stuff that made me and my brother angry and it set up our lives for us. We were born to be angry and sad, and look how it turned out, two lost souls who don’t even know what to do with their lives. You shouldn’t make anything forced or children just want to rebel and create disasters. Every parent should know that, and I think my mom has forgotten, because now she just blames it on the wind. It catches me in an essence and makes me so furious with anger, I am my own person I am not a failure. I think about that all the time, how I don’t want to be a failure because so many have failed before me that it is just locked deep within me. I am left with the sadness and guilt I feel for not being where I think I should be, but none of this is my fault because I am just learning. I feel stuck which many others would say, but no I am actually stuck and I don’t feel like I can ever move. I don’t even talk, I don’t really like to talk because it gets me nowhere unless you just fake it. Like you can’t go anywhere without feeling like you need to create some social atmosphere that no one else is involved in just so you aren’t deemed weird or awkward. Like what is this world and why am I just now seeing everything, it’s so confusing and chaotic that I just feel like a volcano all the time pouring out everything I have and it just all blowing up in my face. All I have is myself, like if you really think about it, it’s all you have and that is who you have to deal with for the rest of your life so what are we really doing.

Newspaper stories

I was always the one to forget, but for some reason I could never forget that day. It was the most important day of my life, they day my life actually started. The day I met her at the coffee shop, I kept staring at her and she would just look away, blush and look down. It was annoying how she didn’t stare at me back. I wanted to see her as a whole I wanted her to look at me. So I did it, I got up and walked close to her table and she stared longingly at me. She got up and told me “If you are going to stare at me like that the least you can do is ask for my number.” I couldn’t forget this moment, so I had to write it down. I ran home and started writing and I still am. I lived in a one bedroom apartment on the third floor of an old complex in the middle of New York.

 

She came over, dressed in a red velvet cropped top and high waisted black pants. She was art, thank god I dressed up, or I wouldn’t even be a fraction to her masterpiece. She asked if I was ready to go, and we went to a beautiful art museum, and drowned ourselves in coffee and overpriced sandwiches at the one place I will never forget. It was one of those stories you read and think that it will never happen to you and when it does, you tell a million people and they can’t believe you were the person to have this sort of a fairytale. She listened to my stories and never questioned my lifestyle or anything, she just listened and that was the most romantic thing to me.

 

A few weeks passed and I hadn’t heard from her, I called her and went by her apartment a couple of times. I even spent hours at our little coffee shop, hoping she would show up. One day, I got the nerve to knock on her door, and it was the scariest thing I could have done. She opened the door, and looked surprised to see me, it was like she didn’t even know who I was. I told her our story and what we had done and how much I thought of her. She just stared casually like this happened every day, but she was so fascinated in my story. She had amnesia and a serious case of it, she told me that a couple years ago there was a boyfriend that was not such a wonderful person and there was one particular night that got out of hand.

I was perplexed at how amazing she was, how we fit together so well. I wanted to know more about her and she was the only person I did not want to forget, and I was the only person she had forgotten.

Short horror story

It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, and the voice on the other end asking for someone he was not. Slamming down the phone I walked downstairs to make sure all the doors were locked and of course they always were. My cat meowed silently behind me, I picked her up and carried her upstairs. The next thing I found was very odd, a single rose on my bed, I picked it up in pure horror and the next thing I knew there was a hand. A drunken voice said “So we meet again.” It was my husband after a very long night, “you scared me half to death!” I screamed and then he kissed me. I asked what the rose was for and he asked me what on earth I was talking about. He was a romantic but not lately, after we had been getting these strange phone calls.

 I heard a crash when we fell asleep, actually it was more of, I felt a crash and when I woke up again he was gone, and everything was gone. There was a lot of screaming and another man waiting at my door. I got up and took his hand as he led me downstairs and showed me what had happened. There laid me, and my husband the man that I assumed had been on the phone was in my house screaming at us. I wasn’t sure who he was or why he would be coming to our house, but I knew my life was ending. Asking for my love, telling me I deserved a better husband, we were crying, begging for our lives. I kept looking at my husband's confused face, and then he told me that he loved me. The whole time my silhouette body thinking of how things can happen so fast with no explanation. What my husband had said angered the man. Then I had recognized the man, he was my stalker, hopelessly in love with me and full of desperation. But he must have known that he could not have me, when he saw how much I was already loved, but by then it was too late. There was no more I could do, no more breath I could take, and then the knife came down, and he took off.