Moving Day!

http://www.sanfrankiecisco.blogspot.com/ is moving!

We will be relocating just down the street to http://www.efballard.blogspot.com/. The reasoning behind this is: I started this blog a while ago.. after I watched Julie & Julia. I used my mom's email address. It makes it confusing to log in, using her email and password. But, you can expect the same updates and stuff from the new address.

See you there!

Stay beautiful.
Keep it ugly.

Ch. 2

Moving right along with DHAN. Who needs NaNoWriMo, right?

I wish it was November. I just really wanted to write this book. And anyway, if I get it done, then I can move on to another book for NaNo. I do want to do NaNo this year, and I bet I will, but the idea that I'm nursing for November isn't quite what I want it to be. My MC is a bit.. Mary-Sueish and that is bothering me. I don't have a full plot arc yet; I have it set up until the rising action is over, then there's this big gap where the climax and falling action should be, and then the ending is in place. This is a HUGE problem. You can't have a story with a beginning and end only-- you need a middle. Think about it! What would a PB&J sandwich be without the peanut butter and jelly on the inside?

But anyway. I bet I'll get a killer idea when November rolls around. And, if I don't, maybe I should wait until Camp NaNo comes around again. Or just write when I want to. But I like feeling the pressure of a due date, all those daily goals, weekly rewards, and the time when you type the last word and lean back and go, "Take that. I did it."

I remember when I first found out about NaNoWriMo. I was in that stage of young writerdom when you start things easily, but don't finish. I had about.. twenty to thirty open projects with nothing close to a climax, let alone an ending. I was wandering about on the forums of the sharing website I used, and found a link to NaNoWriMo. I had to be about ten or eleven at the time and I read about it and I thought, "Wow! This looks fun! I bet I could do that!" I told my mom about it and she laughed at me. "You'll never be able to finish!"

Take that, Mother.

Not only did I finish, I finished twice.

Anywho, DHAN is going well. Just finished the first chapter and I'm ready to start number two. It's about 14 pages now, which totals up to 5115 words. I'm in absolute LOVE with this project. It's like a new addition to the family or something. One thing I don't think people understand about writing is that, when you create something like this, it really becomes something like your child. You raised it from nothing and you don't want anyone to hurt it. You want to love it to death. Maybe I should word this in first person, not second, because that's how it is for me. But if anyone slammed my book, I'd probably cry, because it's like slamming a part of me, and my child.

My family as of now:
Give and Take (currently being reworked slowly)
Insomniac
DHAN

I should go get writing. You should stay beautiful.

Keep it ugly.

♥

9/11

I was three. At home, with my parents. My sister was about one and a half. My other sister was nonexistent. We were shephered out of the living room, away from our small television set, as the towers were struck and until they fell.

Life went on. I was oblivious. Preschool came and went; as did kindergarten. And then, we come to first grade at Van Allen Elementary with Mrs. Davis.

It was circle time. We all came to the carpet at the front of the room and she took her seat at the front. I remember, I sat on the edge, by one of my friends. She told us that we were going to make a banner for troops going to Iraq. I remember someone asking, "Why are they going?" "How long will they be gone?" And that was when I figured out what happened. As she told the story, in terms that would not harm a child, I learned that the Twin Towers fell. For a long time, I thought that they were still there. I learned that there were people who wanted to hurt us. It was there, in Mrs. Davis' first grade class, that I learned what happened. I also was told that the war in Iraq was supposed to end when I was in fourth grade. Well, I'm in eighth grade now, and it is still raging on in the Middle East.

For the first time on the ninth, Friday, in my ELP (Extended Learning Program) class, we watched the towers get struck, North first, South second, and we watched them burn. I was right up front. Then, after a few minutes of watching the scorching buildings, hearing only the static of silence, we watched them fall. Then, when it was over, a question was asked: "Does anyone have anything to say?" No one said anything. And I buried my face in my hands and I cried. I tried to gather myself, but it was so hard. It was the first time I've seen that footage. I had never seen it before, and it has been ten years. My best friend and I sat, side-by-side, both crying. Afterwards, we had to write about it. My hands were shaking and I wrote, "There are no words. The only one that comes to mind is complete and utter disbelief."

I've been told that I'm hopelessly emotional. I've been told that I cry a lot. I've been told that I'm very mature. All of these things are true. I cry at a lot of things, because there are certain things that move me. And I hate crying, but I cry. This day, even ten years later, moves me to tears because of all the lives that were lost. The sheer magnitude of the loss that America endured on that day. I didn't know anyone personally in those two towers, but I can say that just the idea that their children didn't get to say goodbye, that their wives and husbands will live on without them, that they died in such an awful way, and some were never found... it makes me cry just thinking about it. And why shouldn't it? Death is so final, so abrupt, that we could never comprehend what to do if it were to come for us. Would you sacrifice yourself, or another? Is that how I want to be remembered? Am I going to die today, right here?

Rest their souls, those that died. All 2,983 of you. You are not forgotten. In your honor, we became one, one nation, one race, one mind, one body, unified. You are missed. You are loved. You will never be forgotten.

Stay thoughtful.
Stay unified.
Stay commemorating.

Keep it ugly.

♥

You're not in this alone



Let me break this awkward silence


Let me go, go on record


Be the first to say I'm sorry


Hear me out,


And if you take me down


Or would you lay me out


And if the world needs something better


Let's give them one more reason now, now, now




We walk in single file


We light our rails and punch our time


Ride escalators colder than a cell




This broken city sky like butane on my skin


stolen from my eyes


Hello Angel, tell me where are you


Tell me where we go from here




This broken city sky like butane on my skin

Tell me we go from...


stolen from my eyes


Hello Angel, tell me where are you


Tell me where we go from here




And in this moment we can't close the lids on burning eyes


Our memories blanket us with friends we know like fallout vapors


Steel corpses stretch out towards an ending sun, scorched and black


It reaches in and tears your flesh apart


As ice cold hands rip into your heart




That's if you've still got one that's left inside that cave you call a chest


And after seeing what we saw, can we still reclaim our innocence


And if the world needs something better, let's give them one more reason now




This broken city sky like butane on my skin


stolen from my eyes


Hello Angel, tell me where are you


Tell me where we go from here




This broken city sky like butane on my skin

Tell me we go from here
 
stolen from my eyes


Hello Angel, tell me where are you


Tell me where we go from here

"Skylines and Turnstiles"

A Day of Remembrance

I know it's still the tenth, but I don't care. Let's make time today to remember the fallen. Remember the heroes, the victims, the leaders, the hopefuls. The ones who died for another. The ones who died in innocence. Have a moment of silence. It doesn't have to be much. Just take a little time for all those people who never got to say goodbye. All those people who were just going to work. All those people who never suspected anything. All those people.

I don't care if you believe in God or Allah or Budda or nothing at all. Give these people your thoughts. They didn't deserve to die.

Stay reflective.
Stay quiet.
Stay full of love.
Keep it ugly.

♥

Keep it Ugly

I dyed my hair.

Pink.

For many reasons that shall remain secret.

My life is perfect. I feel like this is a shot to the Man. It says, "Hey, guess what? I will not conform. I am an individual, not a clone for the whole. I am amazing, and with one look, you know that I know I am. Go ahead and judge, because you don't know me."

Pictures to come. Right now, I have to deal with some squabbling siblings.

Keep it ugly, my dears. Never let them take you alive.

:|

A few updates:

Really upset with the MCRmy right now. Leave Pedicone alone. He stole from the band, he got kicked out. He doesn't need death threats or hate. MCR has moved on, it's our turn to do so too.

KTWGS has a new title: Death, Heat, and Nirvana. Not the band. A nirvana is: a place or state characterized by freedom from or oblivion to pain, worry, and the external world. So, yeah. I do love Nirvana, the band, but I love the word too. It shall be refered to as DHAN if I get too lazy to type it out.


Working on a fanfic of my friend's story to pass time. Harry Potter marathon ensues.
 
Bored.
 
Keep it ugly.
 
♥