2009 May « Lyrics by Me

When I got home from school today a copy of Exclusively Chloe was waiting at home for me, fresh from the mailbox. And even though I knew the author was going to have a copy sent to me, it was still unexpected.
Three days this week I’ve gone to Starbucks and done some serious writeology. ie. writing THE NOVEL.
This Yes song that I’m listening to. (Long Distance Runaround, in case you were wondering.)
My book blog.
THE SEMESTER IS ALMOST OVER.

1 comment May 7, 2009

My Dream Self

The girl in my dream is all bones and smiling and laughing and evil.

Somehow I know she is evil, though she’s laughing with me. I don’t know what we’re laughing at. I’m not sure what’s funny.

The boys in the corner are tall and lanky and she sees me looking at one of them and she snaps at me. Words that don’t make any sense, that I know are lies. Dream lies.

My dream self seems to know this girl and be irritated with this girl who lies and is evil. My dream self knows she is lying but the lies bother her just in case. Because they might not be lies. My dream self wants them to be lies though, and in dream world sometimes wanting something makes it so.

I don’t know if wanting it makes it so in this dream because we don’t get that far.

My dream self grabs her green purse (since when do I have a green purse?) and hits the lying girl with it (since when do I hit people?) and then runs out of the train car (what?) and runs down the dirt road. She runs into the boy, the one she was looking at, and she hits him with her purse too and he starts to say something and she doesn’t listen. My dream self keeps running and the boy disappears, turning invisible. (My dream self knows this because she has eyes in the back of her head.)

Dream self is angry and everything is the same.

———————————————————————

The city in my dream is made of dirt and is in Utah. (I don’t know why Utah – a state I’ve never even been to.) It’s ran by an evil masterminded dictator who wants us to be buried until further notice.

I don’t know how it works, but somehow the city is buried and abandoned for years and years and everyone is asleep but somehow my dream self isn’t and my dream self is trying to save everyone because we are all dying.

Well. Not dying. More like fading into nothing. And my dream self goes to the evil mastermind dictator and talks to him and yells at him. My dream self locks him in a tiny little dungeon and finds the panel with the buttons to wake up the city.

My dream self wakes up the city made of dirt and everyone gets up and looks around and the city is alone and nothing else exists beyond the city and my dream self is looking for somebody, somebody specific, and when she finds him somehow the dream changes and there is no dirt city there is just a spaceship.

———————————————————————

In my dream I get fired because I can’t cover my friend’s shift and my manager is a fat woman who hates me. She is so fat she can’t get out of her chair. And the store I work at is made of glass.

My dream self yells at the fat woman and runs to my house, which is both in California and Arizona, and the car belonging to my dream self is full of water and soaked and to dry it out my dad fills it with a layer of snow.

It seems counterintuitive to my dream self, but she says nothing because maybe it will work.

Then my dream self misses the book event.

Conclusion: I belong in a mental facility.

1 comment May 4, 2009

Acknowledged

Writing prompt (from Twenty Something Writers, which I am a part of even though I’m not, you know, twenty):

Leave 5 of your most prized and cherished posessions to people who you feel deserve them. Who gets what and why? (Feel free to do more than 5 if you’d like)

I may have to do more than five…

If I were to die… (which is quite morbid and I hope to postpone for as long as possible).

…many moments later….

You know what, guys? This is getting ridiculous for me. I don’t have that much that matters that much to me that I think another person would appreciate. So instead I’ll just thank people for what they have given me.

Acknowledgements of my life, if you will.

Grandma, thank you for letting me be your sidekick, thank you for making snow cream with me and for giving me my first bible and for every other thing you’ve ever done that’s helped make me who I am today. Thank you for always being on my side, for always loving me, for never thinking I’m too crazy or insane or pathetic, for understanding.
To the four (or the three of them who aren’t me), thank you for being my anchor. Thank you for not blocking me out, thank you for being the best group in the entire world and for making me laugh and making me cry and making me want to scream and making me be there.
Mom, thank you for loving me even when I’m rotten. And I know I’m rotten to you a lot. Thank you for forgiving me every time I mess up again, for teaching me to cook, for telling me you don’t think adopted children are loved any less than biological children, and for understanding what I didn’t want to say when I needed you to.
Dad, thank you for letting me be crazy, for helping me understand what’s good and what isn’t, for giving me Don’t Panic, and for wanting me to be strong. Thank you for taking me flying, for building the tree house, for being more “here” than it would seem possible to be even when you’re in Germany or New York or Hawaii.
I leave the last spot open, as I always do, for someone yet-to-be-acknowledged.