Girl

And so the girl was scared. She wasn't so sure how she'd landed where she was, alone in the dark on the south side of Pinehurst. Neither was she quite optimistic about her situation from that point forward. Come on now, this was her hood. She'd grown up there. She flipped back her hair, which was a mess, tangled around her ears, just above her shoulders. From her peripheral vision she could see wisps of it pointing every which way, and some strands were stuck to her tear-stricken face. Not a good look, thought she as the expansive block before her grew shorter and shorter. If only she could find a sign, a bodega, get over onto Broadway. Though it was dangerous to be roaming on a Friday night, if she could find Broadway, she could get home. Come on now, this was her hood. As her clogs tapped on the uneven pavement, some car was playing hip hop, far off. She imagined the sound becoming closer, and quickened her pace towards it. She'd grown up here. It was all fine. The hip hop did grow louder, which made her heart pound, and her cheap hoops in her ear clang high-pitched. Headlights scared her off the road. Startled the girl. But as it would be, that SUV and the lights that threw her off 171st, threw her right in front of a taxi, on 172nd.

6pm

I'm going to walk and ow. Are you under me to walk? Come on. It's just a better of need... oh god... water, water. Yes, they - I - I want some. Please, can I have some cheese somewhere? Not him. I need a little bit of cheese please. Oh, put, put... they went to Shelter Island? Lili? Are you all right? You look unhappy. Right. She needs to hear. Please, just, there's really great food.  Kay? There's really good food. You find it for yourself. Good for you. Ooh, cool, sweet potatoes and onions? 

Bed

Hi. I am writing this post because I have time on my hands and I feel I should write something so I can publish this later on in the week when I'm too busy. But so far I haven't gotten any inspiration. So I'm just laying on my bed, with my laptop on my legs and my head propped up in a not necessarily comfy way. I just 'control-clicked'  necessarily because I can't spell. My bed is half made, with a comforter that is light and airy. It's my summertime  blanket. One side is a daydream summer blue between sky blue and normal blue. The other side is lime green. Then my various fuzzy pillows, covered in plastic things that are soft and curly like corkscrew hair. They are the same shade of blue as my blanket, and same green. There are some purple ones however. There is no order to the colors of the pillows as they sit on my bed. One of the purple pillows (lavender actually) is heart shaped. There is also a raccoon, silver-back gorilla, panda, powerpuff girls pillow, Nemo fish, pink monkey with long arms and a big bear named Professor Lili, back from when I was in the 3rd grade.

3/15/2009

Remember for that was, still in us today, everything is a relevant chapter. What we ignore is fatal because things happen for a reason and besides the greater fate, why should bad things happen but to save us from future harm? First grade is relevant to seventh, fourth to sixth. Life, a tower, not withstanding unless you use the foundation. Yet another reason to observe all.

Based upon old mistakes and crossed paths, i refuse to let myself change my mind.

Writing

Due to the twenty-first century, the ballet world and more, I never have time to sit down and write. Even now, I'm making this entry while running around doing things, doing the dishes, making my bed...

But I still end up writing in my head. While there is never time for me to sit comfortably at a computer or with a notebook and write, there is always time when  I am somewhere away from home, unable to write, but still wasting time. First: math. Math class is a HUGE waste of time, so I do some mental writing in there. Sometimes I put down some ideas, others are formulated in my head. Like in rehearsal. Another time when I could be doing about a billion more useful things. So I make my story outlines then. From character to character moving along in the story, so I have an idea of what the story is going to be like. On the subway, instead of staring out into space at Dr. Zizmore's rainbow ads, I contemplate the conflict of the story, and maybe start writing the actual text in my head. Then, once I have a bit of that that I like, I repeat it and reformat it, until I have the writing memorized. I do this when falling asleep as well. By writing in my head as I fall asleep, I am helping myself fall asleep faster by making my brain tired from formulating characters, plots and dialogue. I am also using time to my advantage. And now, I must go shower.