Journal

My Dream Bedroom

My perfect bedroom would consist of two dark red walls with a black lace designs on them and the other two half black and half dark red diagonally. I would have a bed that is really high and underneath it would be my desk and shelving. I would place my books on the shelves and my laptop on the desk. I would have a easel and large windows for lots of natural light to come so I can then draw/paint with ease. My room would be fairly large with hardwood floors and a decent television that then could be hooked up to a VHS and DVD player so I could watch all the Disney and Tim Burton movies I want. I would also love to have an antique typewriter that is in good condition so then I can actually use it. Also, a little place would be there where I could make tea or coffee while I'm studying. I would have an old boom box where I can play all the tapes and CDs I want on it. I would hang up some beautiful artwork on my walls and even some art I have created myself. Some vintage, Victorian era furniture would complete the room with a nice lamp and chair for my reading. What a lovely room that I wish I could have.

Journal #4

Mutated Eyes

"We got another one!" the assistant yelled into the old, rickety house that stood on dismembered hill. It seemed as if a storm was brewing heavily over it all the time."Another what?" asked the so called "mad" scientist but in truth her intelligence is extremely high and many just cannot comprehend her knowledge. With such high intelligence she is able to do many things or create many things that is beyond this planets understanding. Many claim she is not from here but the scary part is, she is.

"Human!" answers the assistant, Phillip. "Yes, of course I know that. What gender, age, parts! You know what I need to know... Just bring them on up and I'll have a look for myself." People from all over the world send bodies which posse no life to be repaired and even brought back if possible. Phil began to drag the body across the squeaky and rotting floorboards of the old house. The scientist is quite wealthy, yet here she stays in a run down house older than time itself. Alas she has her reasons for staying there for what she does is frowned upon by many; that life and death should not be artificially made. She had been doing this for so long that she can guess the height, age, weight, and even gender at times. She makes the guess of 5’ 9”, 22-25, 126-ish pounds, and male. After all the bangs and thuds, Phillip is finally at the top of the stairway, panting, with exactly what the doctor described yet his looks were quite exquisite. She checked his eyes for any signs of diseases but found nothing expect two stunning blue eyes. “My oh my. Look at what we have here. Pity he had to leave so soon.”

They laid him on the table then disinfected and preserved his body as best as they could. “Now lets see how you died.”  said the scientist. The tag simply read, ‘Lighting’. “Well then that’s it. Easy fix.” and with that she was off. She was using different tools and slicing open certain sections and adding metal in strategic ways. She was moving so fast and her assistant was trying to keep up but he stumbled and fell a lot in the process. Then completing him was with two metal rods sticking out of both sides of his neck. “Perfection at it’s finest.” she said proudly as the roof parted and she pulled a heavy chain that lifted the superb human into the dark night in which the storm has grown from slight rumbles to roaring thunder and crackling lighting. In no time lightning had struck the motionless body and it was brought back down for examination. She knew that all her other attempts had failed and she could only move parts of a body but never the whole thing and she hoped that this time it would be different.

Silence was the only thing in the lab. They waited for a bit and saw no sign of life. Then the mad scientist looked longingly at her collection. Rows and rows of glass tubes filled with everything from feet to whole torsos engulfed most of the lab. All this reminded her of her failed attempts of bringing the dead to life and she thought to herself, they were right. For the first time she began to sob. Through blurry eyes she saw a finger twitched and she ran to the body. Nothing else happened. When she was about to sob again she saw life. Beautiful mutated eyes stared back at her, one blue and one green. “IT’S ALIVE!” she cried out. “IT’S ALIVE!”

Journal #2

Rhyme and Reason

The book I would make required for everyone to read is The Phantom Tollbooth. The book makes one stop and think about what they do and how valuable time actually is and how it should be spent wisely. A new appreciation towards words, numbers, sounds, sights and so much more will be developed in one’s mind. In all honesty, it could make one realize or admire even the simple pleasures that life has to offer in all shapes and forms. It creates a world where there is a purpose for everything done and that will happen. It is full of adventures where kingdoms with kings and princesses and talking animals and things with life that you did not even know had any to begin with are just waiting for the next big or small thing to happen. The book plays with words and numbers in sarcastic but in truthful and beautiful ways. This book would change the world one page at a time with its simple words yet deeper and higher level thinking meanings. The morals within this book can be applied to just about any real life situation so then rhyme and reason can flourish throughout the land once more.

Journal #23

Solitary or Sociable?

Solitary and sociable are an example of basic terms for introvert and extrovert. Introverts are usually quiet and not a fan of large groups or social activities and more like to reflect on things/events by themselves. Whereas extroverts are more outgoing and like being with large groups and recharge and feel comfortable with social activities.

I personally view myself as an introvert given that I am quiet and shy and not one to shout to be noticed. I enjoy doing activities that do not include others like reading, writing, and drawing with either silence or having music play softly in the background. Lately, I feel a little overwhelmed with large groups/crowds of people because usually everyone is so much bigger and louder than I am. I am mostly my own person, not following the latest fashion or new trends. I do and pick things that I love and not what is popular or anything like that. In truth I could careless but sometimes there are new things that I like and I choose to like them because I can, not because it seems like I have to.

I do believe introversion and extroversion are a vital factor in this world. It creates diversity in many forms and in different variations of the some forms. Without introverts and extroverts everyone would be the same basically and a dull world that would be. There would not be as many point of views and thoughts that could be appreciated for how unique they are. Most likely there would be the same views but with some slight differences here and there. Overall the world is mostly balanced and has diversity due to introverts and extroverts being so different to also having many similar qualities.

Journal # 21

10 Little Minions of Myself

To have 10 clones of myself and retain their memories would be astounding and very helpful. First off I would have 5 of  them study each subject I have, History, Algebra 2, English, Biology, and Spanish, very intensely. Then later I will retrieve that knowledge and remember it for midterms and hope for a high B or an A. I would have another clone work with me or at a different time that me at my job. Then I could save more money faster for a car and Driver Ed classes and then eventually gas. The seventh one would read some Poe, Cummings, Shakespeare and the original Grimm  stories because I have been meaning and wanting to do that for quite some time. The eighth would draw with different mediums and finish writing some of my poems and learn all about art history. This one will do the things I love to do to calm down and let me mind wander, which is something I have been meaning to do as well.  My tenth and last minion of myself would learn all it could on microbiology, viruses, and HIV/AIDS. I’m learning some stuff and doing much in my microbiology labs dealing with HIV and AIDS and its fascinating, especially the DNA mutations(Delta 32, TG5 mutations), and I would love to learn more about it. The clones of myself would be very beneficial to me with expanding my knowledge and filling my mind with wonderful information.

Journal #18

Dream Escape

My dream island would consists of just the few things that make me feel at ease and happy. To start off there would be a room that would look small on the outside but in, it would contain millions and millions of books. There would be genres ranging from fantasy fiction to scientific papers even. Classic books of all kinds would be there and of course many being about poetry. Connected to this wonderful library of mine would be a coffee/bakery/ice cream shop but nothing like anyone had ever seen before. I could make myself any hot beverage with the freshest ingredients from coffee beans to herbs for tea. Fresh  baked goods would always be ready for my tasting, mostly chocolate related pastries. The ice cream part would contain exotic, unique flavors but of course the classic flavors would be there, too.

One might think, ‘How could this get better? Books and ice cream. What else would one need in life?’ Just wait it can be better. Now connected to these rooms is a drawing room lined with art supplies and writing utensils as far as the eye can see. Beautiful natural light pours in through huge windows, ceiling to floor despite the time of day or night. A rustic feel comes from the room but it stills feel light and organic. A writing desk and easel are where the magic happens. I can write and draw as much as my heart wants without any trouble or interruption. A majestic, wonderful place that would be that I can call my own.

Texting and Driving Poem

Blink of an Eye

A blink of an eye

Is all it takes

To decide yours and someone else’s

Fate.

Don’t be that fool

Who ruins it all,

Not just for you

But for everyone too.

Be in control

And know it can wait,

Focus on the present

Before it’s too late.

Imagine a world

Safe as can be.

Responsibility is the key,

Just wait and see.

Crash and bang

Could be the last sounds

You hear because

The message was just so dear.

Yet, if you survive

Then you must face

The consequences

And be a disgrace.

The face of death

Is what you’ll wear,

For your scythe

Could not wait

To the a life

Not planned to go.

Oh how you

Altered the life of everyone close.

The shameful thing of all

Is what you must say

To the family of the loved one

That cannot be replaced.

How would you feel?

Would you take their place?

Because you are the one

Who made the mistake.

Now you are left with

That thought in mind.

With a pain and heartache

Trail close behind.

You cannot escape it.

There’s no where to hide.

You will always remember

A blink of an eye.

______________________
1. Scythe- Grim reaper's staff.
Curved blade attached to a long
pole.

Journal #12

Rare

I rarely see the light of day. In the few times that I do get to see the light, I bathe in the warm golden rays of the sun. I take it all in with long breathes. I usually hide in the deepest part of a drawer or tucked away safely in a wallet. I feel as if I am a special secret that only a few people know about. Yet, wherever I may be, which hasn't been many places, I know I am appreciated due to my rareness. I do not recall seeing a relative of mine in a very long time. I fear they are no more but I still hope they are stowed away safely like I am. I have not been spent in ages. My owner now has either great pride or forgotten about me. I know many would like to be spent on something and meaningful, I would like that too but i do not think that is in my future. So I settle for little or simple things to be spent on. For example, ice cream on a first date or maybe something someone really worked hard on saving up for from working. It's those little moments that, that gives my existence a purpose. I may not live a very exciting life but it is one that is worth living for.

Journal #11

English, Really?

Struggling trying to figure out what class to take? That was how I was. Now just sit back, relax and let me help you make your decision a little more clearer.

English class may seem intimidating and pointless to many but not this english class, not at all. It will keep you on the edge of your seat, just waiting to hear what is going to happen next. The teacher, Mr. Juarez, knows how to grab the students attention and keep them wanting to learn more. Each story or Poem you read helps change your perspective in the best way possible. The class really makes you think and interpret things in a way you never thought you could. English class lets the creative side of anyone come out and play for a while. It makes putting a pencil to paper mean so much more. It gives you a chance to show who you are and what you can do in a beautifully way and that way is called writing. Writing is a way to help you leave your mark on this world and this class makes it seem that it actually means something, that there is a purpose to it all. Overall this class is a real page-turner, literally.

Journal #8

End of The Road

This world has gone to pure chaos. I used to have the strength to get by and make the most of this terrible world, not for me but for my son. He deserved to live his life not survive in it. He was the one thing that kept me fighting another day, to make this place better for him. He was always positive and full of so much hope even though we have lost the few who were dear to us most. Before and the start of all this it was just him and me but now it’s just me…

My son was the only thing I had left. The one thing that put a smile on my face and I cannot let that go, I will not. We had made it so far. I kept him safe and healthy and the minute I let my guard down, it was a minute too long. It’s all my fault. If I would of watch my surroundings more thoroughly this would of never happened. What’s the point of surviving when you lost the one thing that made you want to live?

When he was “transforming” I could not end his suffering. I could not let him go, not yet. There was still this part of me that thought he might get through this. He might be one of the few who were immune. I clung on to hope so hard and I did not let go. Once the breath left his body and all that remained was coldness I knew it was too late. Then a rasped inhale filled the room. I looked down at him, my baby boy, with blurry vision. He clawed at me and moaned in hunger. I ran out the room and locked the door. I have never cried so hard in my life. He was gone and I will never get my boy back. It was like a part of me died and turned with him. I am not the same anymore. I do not think I ever will be the same.

Whenever I left the house I could hear his moans echo through the empty streets. Our neighbors who some how managed to make it through this disaster looked at me different. They use to have warm smiles and hellos for me but now I receive stern looks and threats to my baby boy. I know it is not right for me to keep him locked in there but I do not want to be alone. It is selfish, I know but I do not want to. There is no point for me to keep trying to survive in this world if there is no future for him. All in all I know what I have to do.

Weapon in hand I walk do the locked door with my son on the other side of it. With a deep breath and tears streaming down my cheeks I turn the door knob. He turns and looks at me and tries to walk to me. He is weak and his flesh is rotting. I look into his eyes and I do not see him anymore. Eyes once warm and young are now cold and hungry. I take one more look and then do what I have to do. The right thing for him to be able to move on. His blood stains my hands. What have I done?

I am utterly alone now. I have no one. I have no more purpose. I am not a mom anymore. No mother should out live her son. It is not fair. This life is not fair. He deserved more. He was too young. None of that matters now, like I do not matter. I am at the end of the road...

Journal

Sweet Serenity Of Mine

• Friends, plus a little more (They know who they are)
• My books
• Writing
• Drawing
• My fluffy Jack Skellington blanket
• Music

My friends comfort me in so many ways it’s hard to say it all. They always have a warm embrace waiting for me when I need it most. They know when I am just having a not so good day and try to cheer me up with silly jokes, puns, etc… They know exactly what to say and when to say it is, it’s almost freighting.

Books, music, and writing help me escape to a place that I can call my own, away from all the chaos in this world. It is when my mind can wander freely and travel to fantasy worlds like no other. Music and sometimes books can be great inspirations for my writing, just a few sentences can get my mind racing with ideas. When I write it gives me a chance to well be me. I can say whatever I want and make whatever I want happen with just a few words written down on a page. Poems and or proses are my specialty but once in a while I write a short story. Writing is one of my favorite comforts and helps me express how I feel about anything which helps me very much get on with life.

When I put a pencil to paper there is no knowing what they will create. Lines, shapes, textures, colors, etc., just flow from me through my pencil (lead or charcoal or colored) to the paper. Sometimes I have a clear image on what I wish to create, while other times not so much, but it does not take me long to figure out what to draw next.  Drawing distracts me and clears my mind. I tend to over think a lot and drawing helps in so many ways.

Lastly, my fluffy Jack Skellington is like a warm soft hug that never fades away. Not only does the blanket have one of my all time favorite characters on it, Jack from “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” the blanket itself is extremely soft. Who doesn't love a fuzzy blanket to cuddle with? I know I do.

Journal #2 (Poem)

I Am From

Broken down houses fill the streets,

Slang and children run free,

No order in their lives

Sirens echo in the night,

I sigh and try to get on with my life.

I’m trapped in this place and there

Seems like no escape

Then I close my eyes,

My mind begins to wonder

To a place where dreams come true

And the favorite word is “Nevermore!”

In this place birds chirp sweetly,

Winds blow gently,

The flowers bloom beautifully.

Big, beautiful, beloved books of

Mine surround me in comfort

My books are my home.

Yet, only if my eyes are occupied

I can then be where I belong

I am whole

Only if my mind is free.

That’s when I can finally be free.

In this place of mine I am finally free

To be who I am,

Who I wish to be.

How I came to this place

It is hard to say.

A strange man once said

“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity”

I have come to realize the truth in his words.

That I, too have began to question my stability.

Over time I have become aware

Of the world I built and what I shared

How it does not matter

Where I am from.

But how I made that place better

For me, for once.

I achieved that…

That place where I am proud to be from.

A place that I can call my own

A place that I love

A place I can dream all I want.

No more sirens

No more children running free

Myself

My mind

Is where I am from

Where I must be…

• Imagery
• Alliteration
• Metaphor
• Repetition

(Quotes from Edgar Allan Poe, “The Raven”, and  a letter for a fan, www.brainyquote.com)

Journal #2

Dear World,

Hello. I would like to start off saying that I am no brilliant philosopher who speaks powerful and meaningful words nor a writer who could write a little and make those few words count. I am but a person with a thought and I just so happen to share it with you. All I ask is just to take a few minutes and read what I have to say. I would greatly appreciate it. Yet, if you do not want to read this then forget about this whole thing, delete it and I’m sorry for wasting your time.

As for the ones who stay continue on…

Many would probably write about life and morals everyone should follow or happiness and what it means, just opinions after opinions being shoved down your throat, but I do not what to do that. That is just rude I say. Yes, we are all entitled to our own opinions but that does not mean you have the right to force it on others. I do not want to push my opinions or views on you. I would rather have you develop your own morals, opinions, etc… instead. I am going to write a short story or poem (I have not decided yet but I will soon, promise).Take this mmm…. poem. Yes, a poem. Take this poem just as that a poem. I am not going to tell you what it means or how to interpret it or to even interpret it at all. That is up to you. All I ask of the brave reader reading this is to take a moment and separate yourself from the chaos of this strange world and read. Read for a purpose or for fun or if you have absolutely nothing better to do. Just stop, read, and think a little, maybe...

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

Is it because they’re both not made of cheese?

Or feathers could be apart or use on them?

What makes this two similar?

There are infinite answers.

With these infinite answers come infinite questions.

Who knew one simple riddle could turn into so much more?

Without even realizing it.

Yet, every answer and question to come up

Is but one’s own.

One will hear others answers and questions and

then would take it all in.

The answers begin to change and

Maybe the questions, too.

All that matters is what one thinks  

And that is certainly true.

Now once more.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

Journal # 20

Or Am I The Alien?

I have just discovered that the entire human race is a species different from me, human. When I first found evidence on this manner I paniced and nearly went in my pants. Somehow deep down I knew there was something that separated me and them. I had a good nights rest, well I tried to but so many questions were running through my head, before I take on tomorrow. I plan to go about my usual ways tomorrow so I do not draw attention that I know of them, in fear that they would do something to me if I knew the truth. Finding the truth is my main priority. I wish to know why they are here? Why am I the only human left? Am I going to turn into one of them? What if I am the alien since they are all the same and I am different? I said “Hello” to my neighbors and friends like nothing changed. Yet, when I found time alone with one of my friends I questioned and induced answers from them. I did it in a way they just seemed like random questions without a purpose but in truth they do.The more I discovered the more answers I had and new questions sprung up in my mind. I am not sure what my next step should be but, I do know that I plan to make sure I know all the facts first. For right now I can only come up with one reasonable conclusion. I am the alien...

Journal #17

Pinata

I awake from my sweet dreams, in a box, to find myself dangling from a tree on a windy day. The birds were chirping and the sun was shining and I knew today was going to be a good day. My stomach seems fuller than it was when I was in the box. I wonder, what is inside me? Before I realized anything else, screaming children run towards me. Their eyes are full of hunger and their bodies have so much energy. They focus on me as they lick their lips and mouths begin to water. A what seems to be a harmless little girl is holding a baseball bat and swings it menacingly. Panic and fear consumes me as I hear her sweet giggle turn into a sinister laugh. If I could sweat, my paper skin would be pretty soggy right now. My mind begins to race with so many questions. What are they going to do with that baseball bat? What do they want from me? Then it dawns on me, my stomach! It must be filled with something they want. Candy maybe? I realized I don’t really have a way to give them the candy but they have a way to get it out and I do not agree with that method . I try to break free from the rope that connects me to the tree, but it is of no use. The little girl inches closer and closer towards me. I begin to freak out in the wind, hoping it will set me free. There is no point in trying to escape now. This is so sweet dream but a terrible nightmare. I now feel like I have an obligation to full fill their happiness. I see her raise the bat and aiming at me. I close my eyes, ready to endure pain so they can have their happiness. The last thing I remember is the sound of the bat opening my insides and little treats floating to the ground.

Journal #14

        

Real Friends:

 Real friends should take care of each other by taking action first then ask questions, why, later. Despite what the situation, the friend tries to help out, comfort, etc., before they know all the details. They would do whatever was needed for that friend no matter what the cost. Real friends share a bond deeper than blood. They look out for one another like a sibling would. Chide worse than a parent would. Love more than a lover would. They are not afraid to stand up for one another or join each other in a crazy adventure just to cheer each other up.  Real friends would do whatever in the heat of the moment for a true friend. Yet, after it all they would still like to know the reason why their friend is upset after they cheer them up. True friends are becoming harder and harder to find in this world but, there are some still out there and worth the heartache. Overall, no one knows who there true friends are until a situation puts their friendship to the test and they make it to the very end.