The 3six5 is a chronicle of one year. 365 days, told by 365 people in less than 365 words each.
Today is my day.
Check it out here.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Twice the Writing, Half the Time
Writing one post a day was tough enough, and it's even harder to write one a day for two separate blogs while teaching science experiments/English. So I'm going to just redirect you to my project blog for the moment. Regular posting (instead of this sporadic nonsense) should resume presumably in a week, but more likely will take `2-3 weeks, since I've been posting the GPP stuff two weeks behind. Thanks for bearing with me!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Obviously
"Needless to say" is a ridiculous, pointless expression. It is always, unfailingly, inevitably (redundantly, tautologically) followed up by an explanation of what was so needless to say. Seriously, if it's needless to say, don't say it. If you have to explain it, then it's not needless, but necessary.
You don’t have to use idioms that make no sense (“Head over heels”? Isn’t that the normal state of affairs?). Just say what you need to say.
You don’t have to use idioms that make no sense (“Head over heels”? Isn’t that the normal state of affairs?). Just say what you need to say.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
50 Words on the Rocks: Short Stories to Sip On
The 50 Words Project inspired this blog format, and over at WEbook, its leaders have compiled the best submissions from the first 25 challenges.
Go on over and check it out.
There’s humor and horror, chills and thrills.
Some are simple jokes, stories that stand on their own.
Others could be the basis of an entire movie.
Plus, there’s 7-8 of my own stories hiding in the last several chapters if you care to search.
Go on over and check it out.
There’s humor and horror, chills and thrills.
Some are simple jokes, stories that stand on their own.
Others could be the basis of an entire movie.
Plus, there’s 7-8 of my own stories hiding in the last several chapters if you care to search.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
A Clear Sky
Tonight was the first time the stars had ever been so clear.
Today was a special day. A seven-year-old Sally stood in front of the school to share her dreams. "I want to be an astronaut," she began reading from her essay. The distinguished guest beside her had piloted two of NASA's missions already, and was here to visit his old elementary school. "I want to see everything that's out there."
Surely life hadn't seemed so simple back then, even to a second grader?
"Cool, I get a flightsuit!" exclaimed the exuberant fifth-grader. The first day of Space Camp was exhilarating, a flurry of goodbyes to parents and hellos to new friends and teammates. There was so much to learn for the Rocket Bowl on the last day. Team Intrepid was certainly going to win that competition. But in the meantime, there were simulators to try - the MMU, the 5 degrees of freedom chair, the 1/6 gravity chair. Space shuttle missions - Sally was going to be a mission scientist. And the zero-g wall! So much to do!
By seventh grade, the dream of becoming an astronaut had been pushed to the back. The desire was still there, but there were other things in the world that were so much more interesting. Friends, sports, and among academic subjects science, especially biology. But when night fell, she could still stare at the stars and watch for satellites, remembering what not so long ago was her only dream.
On the flat roof of a houseboat in the middle of the lake, surrounded by friends and family, fifteen-year-old Sally lay snug in her blanket. "Ooh, did you see that one?! That was a huge meteorite!" She smiled at the excited chatter of the six-year-old twins and scanned the sky for more, feeling more content than she had in a while. There was no light pollution out here in the middle of nowhere.
The stars had come to mean other things besides her dreams. They represented time spent with her dad, laying back in deck chairs in the wee hours of the morning, stifling yawns as they peered through the power lines for any signs of the Leonids.
When she was having trouble with adjusting to a new life in college, when she couldn't quite make it into whatever you tried out for, when work was getting tougher, sometimes all she needed was a friend to walk with her. At midnight, through the middle of campus, to try and find a terrace she had seen once before from which to gaze at the stars. She had to beware the sprinklers turning on as she walked through the grass, but otherwise, it bestowed a measure of comfort, a feeling of having your problems melt away. Honestly, they were so insignificant when you looked at the size of the universe and everything that could be happening - anything was possible out there.
Sally gazed out the window as the shuttle spun in its slow tango with the earth, bringing its partner into view. What were the chances? A neuroscientist was needed to study the effects of freefall on the brain? But it felt right, like this was where her choices had been leading her whole life. The stars were certainly clear tonight.
Today was a special day. A seven-year-old Sally stood in front of the school to share her dreams. "I want to be an astronaut," she began reading from her essay. The distinguished guest beside her had piloted two of NASA's missions already, and was here to visit his old elementary school. "I want to see everything that's out there."
Surely life hadn't seemed so simple back then, even to a second grader?
"Cool, I get a flightsuit!" exclaimed the exuberant fifth-grader. The first day of Space Camp was exhilarating, a flurry of goodbyes to parents and hellos to new friends and teammates. There was so much to learn for the Rocket Bowl on the last day. Team Intrepid was certainly going to win that competition. But in the meantime, there were simulators to try - the MMU, the 5 degrees of freedom chair, the 1/6 gravity chair. Space shuttle missions - Sally was going to be a mission scientist. And the zero-g wall! So much to do!
By seventh grade, the dream of becoming an astronaut had been pushed to the back. The desire was still there, but there were other things in the world that were so much more interesting. Friends, sports, and among academic subjects science, especially biology. But when night fell, she could still stare at the stars and watch for satellites, remembering what not so long ago was her only dream.
On the flat roof of a houseboat in the middle of the lake, surrounded by friends and family, fifteen-year-old Sally lay snug in her blanket. "Ooh, did you see that one?! That was a huge meteorite!" She smiled at the excited chatter of the six-year-old twins and scanned the sky for more, feeling more content than she had in a while. There was no light pollution out here in the middle of nowhere.
The stars had come to mean other things besides her dreams. They represented time spent with her dad, laying back in deck chairs in the wee hours of the morning, stifling yawns as they peered through the power lines for any signs of the Leonids.
When she was having trouble with adjusting to a new life in college, when she couldn't quite make it into whatever you tried out for, when work was getting tougher, sometimes all she needed was a friend to walk with her. At midnight, through the middle of campus, to try and find a terrace she had seen once before from which to gaze at the stars. She had to beware the sprinklers turning on as she walked through the grass, but otherwise, it bestowed a measure of comfort, a feeling of having your problems melt away. Honestly, they were so insignificant when you looked at the size of the universe and everything that could be happening - anything was possible out there.
Sally gazed out the window as the shuttle spun in its slow tango with the earth, bringing its partner into view. What were the chances? A neuroscientist was needed to study the effects of freefall on the brain? But it felt right, like this was where her choices had been leading her whole life. The stars were certainly clear tonight.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Blue
I can almost never turn off my mind. My brain is always thinking. It's part of the reason I wasn't very good at things like Guitar Hero or DDR (or DsDsR, the handheld homebrew Nintendo DS version).
It's the unconscious brain that's faster. When master athletes and singers and dancers are doing their thing, they aren't thinking anything - their minds really are a blank. In fact, thinking about it inhibits their ability to do what they're good at. The same is not true for beginners, which is perhaps why I am quick to pick up new things but slow to master them.
In any case, I have trouble not thinking. Once I realized that was part of the problem, I worked on it, and I got slightly better with the video games, but there's still thoughts hanging around in there that I'm trying to ignore. There are only a few things, then, that can clear my mind effectively.
It's the unconscious brain that's faster. When master athletes and singers and dancers are doing their thing, they aren't thinking anything - their minds really are a blank. In fact, thinking about it inhibits their ability to do what they're good at. The same is not true for beginners, which is perhaps why I am quick to pick up new things but slow to master them.
In any case, I have trouble not thinking. Once I realized that was part of the problem, I worked on it, and I got slightly better with the video games, but there's still thoughts hanging around in there that I'm trying to ignore. There are only a few things, then, that can clear my mind effectively.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Green
Sighing with frustration, he stepped through the dead leaves on the forest floor. The quiet was unsettling, but preoccupied as he was with everything else, he barely noticed. His mind was drowning in all his problems, scrambling for air and a breath and a chance to think about something else before the next wave swept over. He neared a fallen log, and wondered once again why on earth he had listened to his brother. The woods would hardly make him calm, he detested dirt and bugs and brown dead things.
Sighing with disgust, he inspected the fallen log for any signs of insect habitation. Satisfied, though still doubtful that his naturally carved sofa was really critter-free, he eased himself down. Surprisingly, his focus on ensuring the cleanliness of the log had cleared his mind somewhat. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, listening to the intermittent snatches of birdsong, the swirling rush of the stream in a desperate neck-and-neck race with the man-made trail, the reluctant crinkle of a leaf caused by a hare tentatively stepping out of a nearby bush. Apparently the forest wasn't so quiet after all. He wondered what else he had missed hearing lately.
Sighing with pleasure, he finally allowed himself to lose the worries that had been burdening him for the past months. The cucumber greens and dark ceramic maroons of the redwoods were rather soothing. Moving leaves up above made Shakespearean shadow plays on the fallen needles. He reflected for a moment on how the intricacy of the patterns mirrored life. Deciding not to dwell on that complexity lest he fall back into the dark navy ocean, he instead turned his attention to the roof of swaying branches and stared at the sky, surrendering himself to the pale, calm lapis sky.
Sighing with reluctance, he trudged back to his car. He had felt peaceful here, but it was time to return to work. Now, though, his mind was clear and he felt he could handle it. He supposed his brother must've been right. Maybe nature really did have some healing power.
*Note: I originally posted this as the first part of a short story, but soon decided it was getting rather bulky and unwieldy. So I got rid of that and just wrote the vignette that had been rolling around in my head every now and then these last few months. One of the perks of not having any readers, I suppose - until I get one, I can change things around as much as I want. ^_^
Sighing with disgust, he inspected the fallen log for any signs of insect habitation. Satisfied, though still doubtful that his naturally carved sofa was really critter-free, he eased himself down. Surprisingly, his focus on ensuring the cleanliness of the log had cleared his mind somewhat. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, listening to the intermittent snatches of birdsong, the swirling rush of the stream in a desperate neck-and-neck race with the man-made trail, the reluctant crinkle of a leaf caused by a hare tentatively stepping out of a nearby bush. Apparently the forest wasn't so quiet after all. He wondered what else he had missed hearing lately.
Sighing with pleasure, he finally allowed himself to lose the worries that had been burdening him for the past months. The cucumber greens and dark ceramic maroons of the redwoods were rather soothing. Moving leaves up above made Shakespearean shadow plays on the fallen needles. He reflected for a moment on how the intricacy of the patterns mirrored life. Deciding not to dwell on that complexity lest he fall back into the dark navy ocean, he instead turned his attention to the roof of swaying branches and stared at the sky, surrendering himself to the pale, calm lapis sky.
Sighing with reluctance, he trudged back to his car. He had felt peaceful here, but it was time to return to work. Now, though, his mind was clear and he felt he could handle it. He supposed his brother must've been right. Maybe nature really did have some healing power.
*Note: I originally posted this as the first part of a short story, but soon decided it was getting rather bulky and unwieldy. So I got rid of that and just wrote the vignette that had been rolling around in my head every now and then these last few months. One of the perks of not having any readers, I suppose - until I get one, I can change things around as much as I want. ^_^
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Writing Essays
I'm freaking out a little bit. I have a 10-page paper due tomorrow night, and as of now, I have written a total of 1.5 pages. That's good, that's 1.5 pages up from last night. Usually I don't procrastinate this much. By this point, I would at least have a full outline, 3 pages or so done, and an idea of where I'm going. The problem is that I'm trying to juggle a (thankfully no longer full-time) internship, an online class that usually has homework due every single day (for which I am writing this paper), and a biochemistry class that packs a whole semester into 1/2 the time (for which I had a huge midterm just two days ago). Still, crap! How am I going to do this?!
Edit: Okay, evening of the same day. Now I still only have 3.5 pages done, but I'm feeling a lot better about this. I think it's partly because I've outlined it, but mostly because I didn't bother worrying about a thesis statement or topic sentences.
This is the way you're supposed to do things, I suppose, but I normally have some sort of thesis to begin with. I will almost always go back and change it, because I'll inevitably develop a better argument as I write, but I usually need something to point me in some direction at the beginning.
Nevertheless, I don't have one now. Perhaps I didn't need it because the prompt is both very structured and very open. It's structured in the sense that there are specific topics I need to talk about, but open-ended because it is somewhat a report and relies on my applying parts of those topics to my own observations. Wait, hmm...I guess that's kind of how a lot of essays are anyways (applying what you've learned), so maybe a guiding theme would have been useful.
Either way, it's too late now, and I'll just have to analyze the topics, then analyze my analyses so I can figure out what my point is.
Edit: Okay, evening of the same day. Now I still only have 3.5 pages done, but I'm feeling a lot better about this. I think it's partly because I've outlined it, but mostly because I didn't bother worrying about a thesis statement or topic sentences.
This is the way you're supposed to do things, I suppose, but I normally have some sort of thesis to begin with. I will almost always go back and change it, because I'll inevitably develop a better argument as I write, but I usually need something to point me in some direction at the beginning.
Nevertheless, I don't have one now. Perhaps I didn't need it because the prompt is both very structured and very open. It's structured in the sense that there are specific topics I need to talk about, but open-ended because it is somewhat a report and relies on my applying parts of those topics to my own observations. Wait, hmm...I guess that's kind of how a lot of essays are anyways (applying what you've learned), so maybe a guiding theme would have been useful.
Either way, it's too late now, and I'll just have to analyze the topics, then analyze my analyses so I can figure out what my point is.
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