If you're looking for something to actually read, look below, because right now I'm (hey guess what) procrastinating! I'm supposed to be reading a book for school, but it's 440 pages long and despite the fact that I read nearly everything I can get my hands on, I do not want to cleave my way through 440 pages of a book called "Guns, Germs, and Steel: the Fates of Human Societies". Honestly. It's not even that bad. It's just that it's a textbook masquerading as a real book, and that's just not fair.
But hey, I read 60 pages today. I'm proud.
I just felt like complaining.
Hello people who I haven't spoken to (um, figuratively) in ages!
HOW ARE YOU DOING
*cries* please don't make me read this book.
Weird new Blogger format? Okay, then. I can deal with that. Bring it on, Blogger. Bring the change. I can take it.
I'm still not too terribly worried about posting a lot... But just so there's something here, I found this in my random archives of stuff. It's weird. I like it. I wrote it a long time ago. Well, like last year. Or this summer. So not that long ago. I'm rambling.
What Lies in Wait…
It’s getting closer. I swear, every
day, that thing – that monster – gets
closer to me. It’s like a lion, waiting to pounce. A big, gray, ugly lion with
teeth like a whale. A metal whale.
I’ve prayed every day. Every day, morning
to night. I mean, there’s not much else to do. I’m on the top. I’m the ugliest
– the one with the most scribbles, the most notes. And all of the notes on me are
completely irrelevant to Stacy’s writing. Oh the awful mess I’ve gotten myself
into. When I was packaged, all I could think was, I can’t wait for what my life
will be. And when I was opened by a writer – I can’t express the joy I felt!
Stacy loves paper like me. But that thing, that evil thing she owns. I don’t
know why such a kind girl would own one.
I’ve watched paper after paper go
through it’s maw. It’s eaten them up, torn them asunder, killed them.
Painfully, too. Stacy can’t hear them scream. But I can.
It’s awful. When I was young, when
I’d only been written on once, I saw my Uncle Curtis descend into the grip of
the beast. I couldn’t avert my gaze. It was horrible. Just plain horrible.
Stacy doesn’t think a thing of it.
She just – pop! – sticks my friends and family in the shredder and down they
go, down they fall, dragged to their deaths, agonizingly slow. Sometimes it
breaks, in the middle of a paper, and Stacy has to walk over and smack the
thing until it starts up again. It’s terrifying to watch.
But you know what’s more
I’m right next to it!
I’ve been here for a week. She was
looking for some old notes the other day, the ones with the ideas for the story
about the subway and the Nazi, and she moved my pile, which was far away on the
opposite side of the room. And she carried all of us, then put us directly next
of the shredder, on the top of a file cabinet.
If only she would file me away. If
only she had written something good on me. Not some stupid ideas about some kid
named Leo and the adventures he has riding the world on his magic motorcycle.
That may have been a valid idea, possibly, but the motorcycle talked. Who does that? Who writes a
story about a talking motorcycle?
Insane people, that’s who. Not that
Stacy isn’t amazing, she’s wonderful, but – oh no. No, no, no! Here she comes! Here she comes!
She’s reaching… reaching… oh. Okay.
Not my pile. Albert’s pile, though. She won’t shred Albert. He has some good
ideas on him. But – wait, no! There he goes! Oh, the horror! There he goes,
sucked into the eternal scrap abyss.
What a waste of a good life. She
recycles, mind you. But to shred, then recycle? It’s like beating someone up
then giving them some painless poison… it’s so cold-blooded.
Poor, poor Albert. I’ll miss him.
Wait, she’s reaching again – what
is it, cleaning day?
Is she headed towards me? She can’t
… Yes she is!
No – no, no! She’s picking us up! OH, THE HUMANITY!
Now, normal isn't a thing I want to be, definitely. But I don't mean normal as in NORMAL vs. WEIRD (because I'd much rather be weird) I mean normal in the regularity of my writing. I started Fidgenwindle in what, September? October? I'm not sure, I didn't check and I'm too lazy to check now. :)
Anyway, I haven't posted since then, and I'm not promising I'll post in the next four months, either. But I'm here now, and if anyone is reading this - HI THERE!! HOW ARE YOU?! (the voice in your head just shouted right? Right.)
Blargh. I have written stuff, but most of it is in notebooks and scattered through various sections of my backpack or desk or bedroom floor bookshelf...
But it's not like I don't have a reason!! I've been busy. I'm in drama club at my school, and we just finished our production of The Who's Tommy (yeah, not a show I'd recommend doing at a high school) and so now I'm a lot less busy and I may be able to actually write! *knocks on wood*
I actually did knock on wood there. Just so you know.