Enough for One Life

It's been a long ride through High School, with its ups and downs, twists and bends. Times when I was on top and times when I hit rock bottom. So, basically your average roller coaster, as long as it's a good one. If I had to equate my time at Lone Peak to a roller coaster I'd probably pick something along the lines of Winnie the Pooh. The one at Disneyland, where Pooh dreams of honey. 

Not that it wasn't eventful or exciting - it was definitely exciting to say the least. It just felt like Winnie the Pooh, a psychedelic, amusing track for me to relax on. Because, let's be honest - High School is a cake walk compared to the rest of our lives. No more relaxing for us. No, life is about to become a full-blown coaster that tries to knock your head out of your skull and force your lunch past your lips. So… something like: Winnie the Pooh does Meth, or something. Not that I'm planning on getting high, mind you. 

When I first signed up for this class, it was after Nelson stopped me in the hall with a boom box on his shoulder wearing gangster clothes. He urged me to take Creative Writing, which I couldn't resist. I'm a writer. Have been ever since seeing King Kong. I determined early in my life that I wanted to make film, and that writing a book would help me feed that addiction until I had the funds to make said blockbuster. 

This class wasn't at all what I expected it to be. When I first arrived, I thought it was going to follow along the same path as Creative Writing in Eighth grade. We were given daily prompts in horror, fantasy, sic-fi and romance genres and had to develop characters, plot, and story. I never once suspected that all we'd be doing this time around was writing poems. I'm not that good of a poet, as my blog can attest, but that isn't to say that I didn't enjoy this class. Sure, sometimes it felt like a sob-fest for people to cry in or a perpetual pep talk for people to be inspired by. I think it had a good mixture of everything. I could've done less with the religious mumbo-jumbo and the memoirs describing how much life sucked or rocked, though. Honestly, I enjoy the type of writing that employs none of that. The kind of writing that forgets about reality and travels beyond the norm - like fantasy or sic-fi. That's the rubric that I've fallen in love with. It's what first spurred my hand to create words on a page.

I guess I've always been a bit of an old soul. I don't relate easily to teenage behavior - like angst, addiction, or just plain stupidity, like the ones found in every single suicide. I cared and still care for none of it. People call me insensitive, impersonal, abrasive. And I can be at times. Really, I didn't relate because High School seemed to be everyone's life, where, for me, it was just another stepping stone. For me, life was found in my books, my family, my movies, my games, and anything else besides school. It was simply another ride to wait in line for and go on before jumping over to the next one.

Damn if it hasn't been fun.

   

 

Film Festival Movie

Just in case you missed it. 

My video was… okay.

Pacemaker

"Are you an interesting guy?"

That's what started this whole relationship, between my heart and I. 

I told him, "No, not really."

And he said to me, "I think you are."

I wasn't so sure. I mean - look at me. So, I asked him, "What makes you say that?" 

He smiled exuberantly. 

"You don't have a pacemaker. 

And I'm not talking about the one you wear to keep me pumping, the metallic hunk of junk clogging all the space in your chest. 

No, I'm talking about a pacemaker that everyone seems to have. 

One that ties them down to work, family, or whatever the crap else humans seem to care about. 

I don't see one on you. 

You can take risks easily. 

You dream big, I dream big. 

You like games, so do I. 

The sky's the limit with you.

So, I guess I just answered my own question: 

You are an interesting person. 

Let's hang out."

said my heart. 

 

 

INVICTUS by Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

I Remember...

I remember my first friend. It was at the beginning of school, a place I considered foreign and dangerous at the time.
I remember my first teacher, someone I had a crush on. Don't judge, you had one too, I know it.
I remember a simpler time.
I remember my crayons.
I remember the Hulk stickers I coated my bike with. I thought the training wheels made me look like the green superhero.
I remember the Darth Vader stickers all over my dresser.
I remember watching the Mummy with my baby sister on VHS. We loved it, but were terrified of it.
I remember going on the Mummy ride with my sister and thinking back to when we were young.
I remember my first bad grade…
…So do my parents.
I remember going to see King Kong. I remember the inspiration it gave me.
I remember writing my first variation of my sic-fi book. It was only twelve pages. I thought it was the thickest book I'd ever touched.
I remember publishing my first book. It was musty and hard bound.
I thought it was the thickest book I'd ever touched. I was so proud of my work.
I remember looking at my book later.
It's not the thickest book in the whole, wide world.
But it's mine.

Debut

I don't really know where the idea came for writing my book. I always had it in me to imagine great things. I created entire galaxies in my mind, conjuring up things from games and movies I'd seen. Skull didn't really come to fruition until my father took me to see the film King Kong back when I was in the third grade.
It impressed me that someone had the same form of logic that I did. That someone could create a movie where there was romance, adventure, dinosaurs, and action. What makes me laugh is that Peter Jackson got his own inspiration to direct film after he saw the original King Kong. And, because of that, he inspired me with his own adaptation to follow in his footsteps.
Skull has always been important to me. It's grown from a series of short stories to a full-blown novel full of everything King Kong had. I hope that one day I'll be able to share my own creation with the world on the big screen.

Shoes, Shoes, Shoes

Shoes. You want me to talk about that?
Well, that'd be a long story. I believe it was the first gift I ever received. And why not? Shoes help you walk, people. If not for shoes, we'd have to crawl like animals. But, you want to know what really interests me about shoes?
They're a part of you.
Just think about it - shoes follow you everywhere. You take them all over the place  - to the park, to the store, everywhere.
Shoes deserve to be treated right . You go throughout your life, forgetting things and ignoring others. But shoes never forget. Never forget.
They remember the first time you put them on, sputtering and complaining about how hard it was to tie them. They remember your first crush, your first 'F', your first friend, your first teddy bear, your first date, your first heartbreak, your first, your first, your first.
Because shoes never forget. And neither should you.