
2.
I remember a lot of writing that I have read
throughout the class, but my favorite would have to be a piece that Tristain
Deen did before he left; a little story that he titled “Noodles” about a bear
named Billy that wants to cook instead of real Bear things, so he is shunned by
his own family and he goes on to open up a noodle stand in a small village and
becoming very successful, winning back the acceptance of his family while
making a few friends on the way, and even a few trusty customers. I liked the
story because it was a total rip off of Ratatouille, but the process of
actually creating the story was hilarious to watch. This semester I have read
some great books, but none compare to how good I thought Looking for Alaska by
John Green was. The book is about a boy that goes to boarding school to
basically throw some excitement into his life, and ends up befriending a girl
named Alaska and a couple of other new friends named “The Colonel” and Takumi.
The book is full of lighthearted fun and heavyhearted tragedy, with as many
twists and turns and a roller coaster- definitely a must read.
3.
I can’t lie, whenever class started at the
beginning of the year I was a little pessimistic about making a blogger and
posting on it regularly, but throughout the course of doing so I found a sort
of comfort with it because I realized that it didn’t feel like I was doing
school work, it felt more like I was writing on my Facebook or Twitter. I have
thought of if I would continue to post my own writing on it, but I’m really not
sure if I want to put my actual writing public or not yet, but I am seriously
considering it.
4.
My journal has been a giant blob of papers and
old sticky notes that mark my grades for each section. Some of the things that
I wrote in there may actually be good, but honestly I couldn’t tell you. Most
of it is just pointless babble that refers to whatever subject we were given
that day and most of my free writes were just rambling thoughts that would come
to me at random, so the chances of anything ground breaking being hid away in
there are slim. As for continuing to journal, I have already picked up a spiral
notebook from the store and continue to write as often as possible and hope to
keep writing short stories that I can be proud of.
5.
I wrote an entry about an Eighth grade romance
in my journal a while ago in reply to a question we were instructed to respond
to, and the reason I chose this article is because right as I came across the
entry in my journal, the very girl from the story walked by the class, and I
thought that it was way too ironic to pass up, so here goes: “#28- In eighth
grade I dated this girl for about seven of eight months, but after subtracting the
annual biweekly break ups that sad number probably amounted to more like five
months, but she ended up breaking up with my for one of my very good friends
that I had actually met through her which unfortunately broke my little middle
school heart. After that, my summer consisted of nothing but Xbox live and
skateboarding by myself, thinking that distance would help my situation, but I
soon found out otherwise.”
6.
Notable
Favorite: King Leotus
was once a brave and valiant king that ruled over vast amounts of land with
thousands of people loyal to his command. The kings sword would cut through
enemy in battle as if they were butter, and his armor was made of tempered
steel and dragons bone so that no one sword would be so powerful as to
penetrate its barrier. The king was revered all over his majestic kingdom, and
feared by all others that crossed his path.
One day, while the king was at
his throne, brewing over his most recent victory, a door fell open silently as
to not be heard by anyone around, and a small black head of what appeared to be
a young boy popped through the passageway, analyzing the surroundings before
passing through. The king remained unseen by the boy and watched as he crossed
the corridor, trying best not to make the slightest noise. Before the boy could
cross the room the king let out a large “Halt!” The boy was stunned in his
tracks and appeared frozen in time for only a moment.
As the king swept his way toward
the child, he noticed a large bag at the boys shoulder made out of a wrapped up
bed sheet, and the king was instantly curious.
“Give me that bag.” Demanded the
king, his voice stern and full of pride from many past war cries. The boy
proceeded to unravel the sheet’s sophisticated knot the held it together, and
said nothing in reply to the kings demand. Inside lay three golden candlesticks,
and six silver pendants that looked identical to his. At second glance the king
realized that they indeed were his war pendants.
The king looked down at the boy
as he reached the verge of tears, afraid of what may lay next for him. The boy
was dirty, and very skinny. His clothes were withered and had been patched
countless times. The king dropped to one knee as to get closer to the child,
but said nothing, only looking from the boy to his stolen bag of items. The
king asked “Why did you steal my things? You are only but a small child.”
The boy replied through sobs “I
was hungry,” looking down at his bare feet “and I haven’t any money to buy
food.” The king looked into the boy’s eyes as he spoke, and could tell that he
was being truthful.
The king grabbed his most prized
medallion, and put it around his neck and tossed the rest of the bag into the
boy’s hands. “Stealing is not permissible in my kingdom,” said the king “and
his punishable by law. Although, not assisting a soul in need is worse, but I
do not want to catch you again, understand?”
The boy nodded his drooped head,
turned, and walked out of the king’s enormous manor. The boy learned from then
forth that you must earn what is yours, and not through stealing.
7.
I plan to move on to college writing courses,
including some creative writing I’m sure. When I’m writing it allows me to
completely lie to myself and put myself in something that is so unrealistic,
that in real life it would be considered ridiculous if only for just a few
moments; that’s what I get out of writing creatively. Creative writing differs
than the other different kinds of writing that I do in school in that I can
make whatever I create into my own personal piece of whatever I want, where as
in another class there are set standards for how you have to write a paper which
is just droning and boring.
8.
I hope that one day our names will be the ones
on the covers of book that are read by either few or many, either way it’s you that
gets something out of it which in the end is really all that matters.