Remembering the Past (Dream Threads)

          It traumatized me for life. I was there when they died, in that house with them. I smelled the smoke, felt the heat of the flames that licked at my door. Their screams of shock and panic and pain filled the air, almost drowned out by the roar consuming the walls. I remember feeling trapped, like there was absolutely no hope of escape. Eventually the screams drifted off, and that silence was what had scared me the most. Then they came, those big men in the yellow and brown suits. Those men that carried me out, through the haze, and handed me to another man standing in the back of a truck. I screamed and fought, determined to get back to them, to go and see them, to find them so that the big men could pull them out, too. But what I didn’t know is that they had already found them. Now I linger in bed a little longer and will myself to remember their faces and love, even if it is only my imagination.

Deep Talks with Maya Angelou

3.       I believe that talking about ‘bad’ things definitely gives them power. Then again, talking about anything ‘good’ gives it power as well. When we talk about things – good or bad – it kind of gains this power. By talking about it, we are letting it spread out and become stronger in a way. Take rumors for example. Each time a person talks about a rumor, they might twist it one way or another. Then another person hears it, goes on to about talk about it, and soon enough everyone has heard different versions of this rumor. Depending on which version you have heard, that could change the way you see a certain person. Which is certainly giving the ‘bad’ thing power.

5.       On one hand, I completely understand where Angelou is coming from. If something extremely traumatic happened to me, I can totally see myself just shutting down and not talking. I have actually done that, just not for as long.

How much I talk depends on my mood that day. If I’m happy and excited or anything similar, I will chat away a hundred miles an hour. On the other hand, if I’m having a bad day, my headphones will be in, and I will not say a word for hours.

          I feel that by not talking so much and listening more, you can really understand a person. Just by listening to what they have to say can give you an insight to someone that you had not seen before.

          Speaking more has its advantages as well. By speaking more, you can become a ‘take charge’ kind of guy. Speaking often can also make someone seem friendlier and more approachable, which is (almost) always a good thing.

6.       Honestly, I really want to become fluent in several different languages. Italian, French, and German are just a few of the ones I want to study. I just really want to become bilingual, for one because I think it’s totally cool, and for two because it could really help. I plan on touring the world (or at least Europe) at some point in my life, so knowing a few different languages will be helpful.

Thinking that you will only need one language your entire life is dumb in my opinion. As the world’s melting pot, we have all the languages in the world. I mean, sure it would be helpful if everyone knew English, but that’s not going to happen. But if we go over to other countries and expect them to speak our language, I think that we can extend the same courtesy, even if it is basic understanding.

  

10.     Writing is one of the hardest things out there. Finding the inspiration or muse, coming up with the general idea, and getting down the basic plot might be easy, but it stops there. You have to come up with every detail, every weather pattern, every character, and then keep them straight. Fiction, Non-Fiction, it doesn’t matter. Whenever writing, you are creating an entire world, an entire universe, and only the author can keep everything straight and as it should be.

11.     Age does not determine learning capability. Growing up, I have constantly heard that “you learn something new every day” and I agree with that a hundred percent. Just because, in forty-some years we will not be able to figure out the newest technology, does not mean that we will not be able to learn something new. It does not matter what you are focused on, whether it be everyday life or finding the cure for cancer, you will still continue to learn throughout your entire existence.

Why I Added Colors To What Inspires Me

In life, colors really do inspire me. They set my mood, and decide how I am going to write. Looking at blues (and greens, and yellows, surprisingly) make me upset, like something completely depressing has happened. Reds, on the other hand, make me feel adventurous and dangerous, even if I’m nowhere close. I just find it crazy that a single shade can change the way we think or feel. It’s just exciting to me, knowing that with one color, my outlook on almost an entire day can change. Just like that.

Tea Stained and Light Willow; A Haiku - Colors

Tea Stained and Light Willow in these colors the forest grows with life and song made to love and hear

The Scream Machine - Colors

Hanging over the driveway was a single, worn, ratty piece of wood. The wind shook the sign, making it all the harder to read the scratch out words sprawled across it. If one was to look close enough, however, the words ‘Scream Machine’ could be read. Now, there was nothing dangerous or off about the sign itself, but what it stood for was another sign entirely. People flocked from all over whenever the sign hung. Because it meant that the old building was open for business. Screams could always be heard floating through the air along with the chatter of those waiting in line. Anticipation flooded everyone’s bodies as the stood, waiting either in costume or regular, everyday clothing. There was a bite to the air as arms were rubbed and feet stomped. Ahead of them stood an old warehouse that was, more often than not, left empty. But once a year, on one single day, it was open for the public eye. Lights flashed over the metal walls, screaks and blood curdling screams echoing off the tin. Inside, there were smaller, weaker walls built to confuse the mind and has convinced hundreds of people that they were lost. Rooms were added in, where monsters and ghosts and ghouls hid, waiting for the chance to jump out and scare the living daylights out of the inspecting folk. So, if one is planning on attending this year, just be prepared for the scare of your life. Because this, ladies and gentlemen, is The Scream Machine.

Harry Potter and the Little Wooded Stick [Objects (for inspiration)]

In 1997, the start of a new series of books was published over across the pond in London, England. In 1998, the same book was published here in the States. Then in 2001, a movie adaptation was filmed based on the novel. It was a start of a generation, the start to multiple books and even more movies. It was what eventually lead one woman to becoming a billionaire, with a fan base of millions. This book’s name, you ask? Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. One of my clearest, earliest memories is of sitting in front of the TV. I was maybe four or five, watching an old box-television. I remember the opening credits popping onto the screen, and wondering what the heck it was. So of course I watched it. And then fell in love. I was really young, though, so my love for The Boy Who Lived would surface a few years down the road. Fast forward to my Elementary school years. I devoured as much of the series as I could get my hands on, and my brain practically exploded. Fascinated with the idea of witches and wizards and magic, it took over my mind. At the time, I lived in Highlandville, Missouri, in a little house with a barn and a good amount of land. On top of that, I always wanted to go on an adventure, fighting dragons (and my brother and sister), saving people. I only saw one way to do both; pretending to have magic. There were usually three of us playing. Myself, my younger sister, and our little brother. We would trek outside no matter the weather, and go hunting. Not for animals, but for the perfect sized stick to be used as a wand. Our little sticks crawled all over the yard, right along with us. How we played depended on the day and if we were getting along or not. Waving the pieces of wood around, we would cast spells on each other then run away laughing evilly. It was a pretty good bonding experience, really. To this day, whenever I’m out walking around and come across the perfect hand-wielding stick, I have to resist the urge to pick it up and finish that last game we started, the last one that got paused to be restarted at a later date, but never did. So these fallen tree branches brought my siblings and I together, all based on the attention I paid to Harry Potter. They gave us hours upon hours of fun and laughter, and a love for seven books (and eight movies) that will last my entire life.

I Am... Bethany Ball

I Am Poem I am a daughter, a sister, the oldest of five. Raised in a small town with big city dreams. I am packing and moving with new sights to see, always dreaming and thinking of new places to be, but an overachiever that lacks motivation to do anything. I am hot chocolate and marshmallows, soft blankets and snow, saving moments in photographs that have nowhere to go. I am hoodies and leggings and dancing in the rain. Gritting my teeth to get through any pain. I am browned eyed and ditzy with emotions to spare. Seventeen, not too young nor quite old, only beginning my life, with a long way to go.