Purple Prose Opening Sentence

Elizabeth Montgomery Rose Katelyn Smith stood upon the beautifully brown bowsprit of the xebec, hanging onto the closest rope for dear life to prevent herself from falling despairingly into the waves which crashed ruthlessly on the sides of the xebec like medieval army men ramming a castle with a tree trunk ruthlessly in order to knock it down, rather, though, that the waves were like those people running back and forth and body-slamming against the castle gates because that's more akin to the fluid, blue, liquid tumult of the sea, a very unconventional building practice since xebecs uphold no bowsprits of a normal tendency, only that Captain Von Barffle-Belch of the pirate company was happy to touch up fake ship parts to baffle the military cruisers, who thought that was very strange indeed, all things considered.

My Worst Nightmare

Torches lined the walls of an ancient Egyptian tunnel. Their flickering orange glow cast shadows across the faces of Elliot Moose and his friends. They were all dressed in saffari costumes, and each held a torch of their own in their hands. They had discovered this place and were searching for the anchient relics within it.

At the end of the tunnel they found a wall covered with hyroglifs. In the centre of it was a gold-plated lever. What else could it be but the switch that opened a secret door to treasures unknown?

Elliot leaned forward and pulled the switch, then everthing fell apart. It had been a trap! The entire tunnel burst into flames, enveloping Elliot and his friends in a blazing inferno from which there was no escape. One by one they fell to the ground, dead, until Elliot was the only one left breathing, writhing painfully on the floor.

Just then a group of gruff miners appeared at the enterance of the cave, just out of reach of the flames. With his dying breath Elliot reached out to them and rasped, "No. Leave. Save yourselves. Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah."

And then I woke up.

I had this dream when I was about eight years old, and to this day it remains the scariest dream I ever had. Relatively speaking. At the time I was terrified, but I think if I had it again I might just be amused. That's right Elliot, burn! BURN!

Yeah . . . I don't have very scary dreams.

My Cube

Say hello to me-- companion cube. If the cube game we all played has any truth behind it, then apparently that's what I am. I suppose it's my destiny to be roughly thrown through nauseatingly confusing portal sequences, used as a shield, jumped on, then incinerated by my only friend. I have a lot to look forward to. All kidding aside though, it was kind of freaky how accurate the cube game was for me.

First there was the plants. In my picture, healthy, strong, flowered vines are clinging to the entire surface of the cube. No plants grow anywhere else-- the cube is the only place where they are able to survive in the hot, dry desert. I love children, which the plants symbolize. I want to be an elementary school teacher, and a stay-at-home mom when I have my own kids. My image of the plants perfectly displays both my love for kids, and how good I am at working with them. Hmm.

Then there's the latter. It leans against my cube, which is as big as a shed, not normal companion cub sized, and leads to the top of it. However, it is made of metal, which has been heating up a lot in the sun, so it is very hard to climb. This shows how hard it is to become a close, valued friend of mine. I stick to the quality over quantity philosophy on friends, so I'm friendly to everyone, but choose my closest friends carefully.

Lastly, there's the storm, floating intense but condensed right above the cube, but not affecting it-- signifying just how I see my troubles.

Maybe the only reason this works is because when people try interpreting their picture, they twist it dry for the most ridiculous, obscure significations. I don't know. Whether it's a big, deep, inner meaning or not though, I sure had fun playing the cube game.

Why It's Good to Speak Well

The one thing that I absolutely cannot stand-- my greatest pet peeve-- is when I hear someone say "good" when they mean "well". I blame my mom-- she home schooled me for grades 3, 4, and, 5. She taught me GOOD grammar. She taught me grammar WELL. She did not teach me grammar good!

I hear people confusing these terms almost every day, and I physically cringe every time it grates against my ear drums. I just want to shout "WELL!" at them, but I know that if I did that every time it happened, I would soon be the most hated person in this school.

Good is an adjective people.

Well is the adverb.

You can't play sports good, or write an essay good, or see good with glasses on.

It pains me just to type these horrifying phrases.

My mom started going to college this year to become an interpreter (ASL), and one of the required courses for the program is English. So she goes to the class and what are they learning?

"This is a verb. This is a noun. This is an adjective. This is an adverb. etcn a. etc."

Seriously? These people are high school graduates, at the least. You'd think they knew this stuff. That's exactly what my mom was thinking to herself, until the woman next to her turned as said, "I shouldn't have to take this course. I did really good in English."

Well, obviously you didn't do WELL enough, if you're speaking like that. This basic level grammar course is exactly the level you're at.

It terrifies me to think how illeriterate our generation has become. And it's not just good vs. well that people have trouble with. Half the people in my moms COLLEGE level english class couldn't even wrap their heads aroun the subject of a command.

"What is the subject of "Sit in that chair."
"Chair?"
"No, it's 'You'."
"But you didn't say 'you'."
"It's implied. (You) Sit in that chair."
"But you didn't say 'you' the first time."
"That's because it's implied."
"... I don't get it."

Seriously? Do these people even know what "implied" means? Apparently not.

So basically, every time someone says something like, "I did really good on that last test!" it makes me want to rip my ears out. It takes every bit of control I have not to jump out of my seat, run up to them, and shout thorugh clenched teath: "You did WELL!"

I'd say my self control is nothing short of amazing.

I Was Just Thinking...

So I've been reading a series lately, called the Dresdon Files, and as I've been reading the books a lot of random thoughts have come to me.

The first thing that occurred to me was, how do the protagonists of long series constantly make it through each book when each book has a progressively more difficult  situation for the main character to be thrown in. I know that this isn't always the case, but I've finished three of the Dresdon Files books and in each book, so far, the main character, Harry Dresdon, has said that what he goes through is the hardest thing or scariest thing he's been through in his life. I doubt that pattern is going to change throughout the next ten or so books in the series. The reason I started thinking this is because in just the second book, the stakes were already as high, and the danger already as great, as I find it is possible to go. How the heck is Dresdon supposed to beat a bad guy any bigger, which I'm sure he'll have to do late on? Oh well, I'm sure he'll manage it. It was just a little thought I had.

The second thought that occurred to me, as I was reading the third book, was how far action can rise in the rising action before the climax. The Dresdon Files is a mix of mystery, action, and fantasy, so a lot of stuff happens. At one point in the book I looked at everything that had happened so far-- at all the clues gathered and questions answered or not and all the fights Dresdon had been in so far-- and I thought that the story couldn't possibly go on for any longer. This had to be the finale. This had to be the climax. Then I checked my spot and realized that I was only half way through the book. Not even. Talk about drawing in the reader.

So anyway, none of this has anything to do with anything, and maybe no one will get what I'm saying because they've never read the books, but what are blogs for besides randomly typing out whatever happens to be on your mind? So I hope my mind isn't to jumbled for you to follow ^_^ seeyanow!

How did I get back here?

beep...

Beep...

BEEP...

BEEP!

My hand shoots out and  turns off the alarm clock. It sounded like my old alarm clock... when did I plug that thing in. Oh, well, too tired to think about it. It's 6:30. Ugh, I have to wake up for school. Math, Writers Craft, then a test in Living and Working with Children. Can't I just sleep in a little longer...

I roll out of bed, directly on to my floor and slowly sit up. I slap on whatever cloths are at the top of my drawer and head downstairs to make my lunch. I can't find my backpack, so I just use my old one. My brother and sister are behind me as we walk out the door to get on the bus. I've hardly opened my eyes all morning, and when I get on the bus, I fall asleep...

I wake up about five minutes before we get to school, and when we pull up in the round-about, I gather my stuff together and begin walking to the front of the bus. My brother's voice rings out from behind me.

"What are you doing, this isn't our stop."

"What?" I ask tiredly as I turn to face him.

He rolls his eyes and scowls. "Wake up. This is the high school. We get of on the next stop."

The next stop. The elementary school. I look at him a little closer. Is it just me or is he a foot shorter than I  remember him being. Then the weirdest, freakiest idea hits me and I rip open my backpack, taking out my binder.

The very first page says Welcome to Grade 6.

By now the bus has reached the elementary school, and I doubtfully walk off.

And it turns out to be true. I'm on all the class lists and none of the teachers think it's strange that I'm in their class. I can tell by looking in a mirror that I'm at least two inches shorter than I am. Or was. Or will be. When school is done and I get back on the bus, I close my eyes and concentrate. How did this happen and how do I fix it?

Perhaps most people would see this as a grand opportunity. Perhaps other people would be thinking right now "how should I spend the day?", or "what should I eat, play, watch, and say, as I am given this grand opportunity to relive my childhood?"

Quite frankly, all I can think of right now is "wow this is weird what is going on this is soooooo messed up." After a few minutes of muttering that to myself and holding my head, I hear a loud sound coming from the front of the bus. I look up and see my sister engaged in a passionate argument against some other person. I am quite shocked to hear that they are hurling horribly foul language at each other, and can't help thinking to myself that my sister should know better than that. Of course, it is kind of strange because whenever they cursed, a censor came out of nowhere to drown out their words.

"You're such a BEEP," she says.
"Oh yeah, well your a BEEP," he says.
"I can't believe you BEEP said that to me," she said. 
 The censors keep getting louder and louder, then suddenly stop, and I feel a rough hand shaking me back and forth.

" What are you doing still asleep?" I hear my mom's voice asking. That alarm is so loud it woke me up from across the hall. Get to bed earlier next time."
With that she walks out of my room, flicking the lights on as she goes. I turn my head to my alarm clock. 6:35... and I still have to go to school...