I'm tired.

I just don't want to be grieving anymore.

Jenny Holzer

Hi there.

Guess what?

Yeah, I'm in school again.

One of my teachers mentioned to me that she liked my blog, so .. I don't know, it's been in my head. And we have this project, where we have to research an artist and then write a reflection and present a presentation to the class. It's not due for a while, and I still don't know what I'm going to be doing for the project, BUT a certain awesome someone else mentioned to me the other day that I should post some of my "artsy" things. (They aren't mine, they'll come later, when i have more time and am at home) but since I A) have a project to organize, and B) need to put some art up here, I thought, Hey. Might as well.

So the first person that I was considering for this project was this girl named Jenny Holzer. I'm not going to post a link because I can't find one website that I like about her yet. There's plenty of information but as far as I can tell (as of now) she doesn't have an awesome website. ANYWAY. Holzer's work is mainly text about complicated and provocative subjects. Most her pieces are projections, either into water or on the sides of buildings, but she's also down stuff like this for websites and neon stuff.

 EDIT: She does have a more informational website: Here.



The thing that I like about her is that the words she uses mean things. Whatever it is that she's saying aren't things that are usually said out loud. They are things we think in our heads, things we read, or things we write but never things that we say. Never things that are so loud and so public. I love the inovation of putting these things-- these sayings-- in public places where everyone can see them. I like that they're so bright; you can't help but see them. You can't help but notice them. You have to think a little bit. I like that. Jenny Holzer makes the secret things public.

And the other person that I was thinking of using was Barbara Kruger. I don't know as much about her. Like Jenny Holzer I've been looking at for awhile and I've seen a couple of her websites. Kruger I'm not so sure about. I like the idea that she presents. She takes boring everyday photos-- black and whites from magazines-- and slaps a block of red with white words acrossed it.







(this was just too funny not to add)

Most of her work is political statements, hints like the american flag, or it's something about consumerism, which is cool I guess. All of her work seems to be satirical. She's poking fun at everything: the systems, the man, politicos, art, herself. I like the conflict in her art. Not only the stricking colors, but the way the words almost contradict or enhance the art.

QUICKIE POST

CAUSE I'M IN SCHOOL SHHHHH!!!

I just happened to check into my account (cause I'm cool and obsessed like that) and noticed that a certain awesome person posted a comment on one of my posts-- that maybe i should name this blog "The Silence is Deafening".

Yes! I like it! Approved!

Any thoughts? Like it love it hate it? I think I'll be keeping this for awhile. Unless I have a sudden flash of brillance in the next couple of days, (and those things are expensive, I'm trying to save 'em up for NaNoWriMo) IT STAYS!!

YYAAAAAY!! WE'VE BEEN NAMED!!! :)

King and Frankenstein

I'm assuming you've noticed the title change. I got sick of the "Within You" nonsense, so i decided to change it (finally). I'm working really hard to find a new, better one soon. But. No promises.

Also, I'm not done with the Stephen King book. I may have, sorta kinda, put it on "hold" for a few days while I finish another awesome book I'm borrowing from a friend. I'm ALMOST done. (In both cases) But today, during lunch, a friend of mine and I went to the library and I pulled down Stephen King's first book, Carrie from the shelves. I knew that I have alot of books to read before the chaos of NaNoWriMo (another entry for another day) but since I've been reading his memoir/how-to book, I figured I better try out one of his actual novels. I know that Carrie isn't one of his better known books, but I wanted to know how he started out. If I could compare myself to him when he was in my 'stage' writing.

UM.

Have you ever read Carrie?

No? Okay. I don't want to ruin it for you but let me just leave you with this; The first ten pages of the book... ARE ABOUT SOME IDIOT GIRLS FIRST menstrual cycle. WHAT?? WHAT?? STEPHEN KING! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WRITING ABOUT THIS? WHY ARE YOU--? WHAT??

My friend and I were seriously sitting there, in awe of what we were reading. It was insane. We could not believe it. Not only is that the first scene in the book-- which is more than enough reason for my to put the book down-- but a) the main character is obnoxious, dull and extraordinarily dumb-witted, b) one of the other antigonistic characters is named Sue Snell.  (Yes, that's right. You heard me) And then I guess the dumb-witted main character, Carrie, developes telekinesis and attacks her tormenters.... I just have no response to that. Not only is it weird but I feel like it's such a simple plot. Like, who cares. Nothing happens. Or more like, something happens, but there's only one thing. I know every thing that happens before I've even read the thing! A) Carrie developes powers. B) She gets bullied and decides she's had enough C) She goes crazy and kills people at her prom. Done! I didn't even have to read it. How can a book be sucessful if people already know what it's about? Stephen King is amazing. Becuase that's all she seems to do. He amazes. (I can tell you one thing, that's certainly how Maggie and I felt in the library: Absolutely fishing amazed.)

I'm also reading Frankentein by Mary Shelley through A.P English Literature. It's interesting, not only because M. Shelley was 19 when she wrote in (not far off from me :)... ) but becuase it's one of those books that full of lessons and meanings and morals. It seems like everything Victor Frankenstein says can be related to death. He's always going on about how death is coming, it's around every corner, that he lives a cursed existence and what not. That death is misfortune. It's implied that death is personified by the monster that he creates, a looming dark figure that is shunned by people and viewed as the greatest atrocity by its creator.

And today in driver's ed, we were talking about drunk driving. Accidents. Statistics.

So it's no wonder my mind is on death.

But there's another reason. I have this anniversary coming up. November 4th. And there was another anniversary that just passed. October 5th.

Death is hard. It's scary. It's another unknown variable in an already unknown life. It takes people away from you. People that you love. People that you rely on and care about and need. People that make you feel better when you're sad. People that make things real, that makes things meaningful. Death humbles heroes. It takes away the people that you've always thought were unshakeable. It turns the people that you've always thought were strong into shadow's of themselves. And it's scary. It's hard. It's painful and it's lonely and it will make you sad. But it's not death that is all these things. It is not the act of dying.

It's the aftermath. It's what is left behind. It's the hole that the dead person left. That is what's scary. That's what's painful. That's what makes you cry and your heart beat faster and your thoughts shy away. What will happen now? That's what we worry about. What happens after we're gone? Life keeps turning but they and you and we are know where to be found.

I can't stand that about death. The loneliness after some one dies. It's like that thing when a parent says to a kid you can't have it, and they just want it more. When someone you love dies, all you want is her. You know, deep down that she's the only thing that will make you feel better, and of course. That's the one thing you can never have.

I didn't want to make you guys sad, but it's something that eats at me sometimes. And this won't happen often, but the next couple of weeks are tough, and I'll be mentioning it. Not alot, because I have A TON of things to do and write about, but you know. I wanted to prepare you.

Okay. 'Night.

Julian Emery Brown

It's raining outside, the heavy droplets of water creating mud on the moor-roads, turning the gardens into mushy squishy mazes of wet earth. The water sits on the hedges, biding its time until too much water collects, and the drops slide down. The whole estate is a gray mist of moisture. The gates have been closed. The flowerpots have been brought in for fear of them being drowned. In the middle of the road, right next to the willow tree, a man is struggling in the mud. His foot is stuck, but he soon frees it and scurries for the cover of the front door.

Julian does not see this, though.

He is blind.

He sat at an open window, smelling the unique smell of heaven-sent moisture, hearing it's rhythmic music. He heard the faint squish as the man trudged up the hill, the barely audible swear as the man's foot was caught in the mud. He head the sucking squishes resume. If he shifted his hand a little closer to the window, he could feel the in-and-out of the air as the room and the rain breathed together. He could feel the soft misting of the rain as it landed and splattered outward onto his awaiting skin.

There was a faint smile on Julian's lips. He loved the rain. Not only for the miraculous smell of it, the strange sensation of so many gentle pinpricks of fleeting touch, but because Julian had studied biology with his tutor, Mr Jymes. Julian had learned that water was the source of all life; that long ago in the primordial soup life sprang into being, a scientific improbability, unbelievability and  miracle. Water continued that miracle, restoring systems and nurturing its children, it's charges. Whenever water poured from the sky like this, Julian couldn't help thinking that water was showing affection to it's creations. He felt like the water was saying, "Hello, there. You looked like you could use a little pick me up. Care for a drink?" He knew it was silly as a budding scientist to personify water that way, but give him a break. He was only twelve.

"Master Julian?" Mrs Graham called, "Master Julian!"

The aging lady burst into the drawing room, skirts flying. "Ah. There you are." She straightened herself and strode over to the boy. She slammed the window down and he startled. "You shouldn't have the window open. You'll catch your death. We've been looking all over for you."

"I'm sorry."

She grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. "Don't be sorry. Just come along; you're late for your piano lesson."

Julian sighed as Mrs. Graham towed him out of the room. Lucky that she thought he was capable of walking as soon as they were in the hallway. His arm hurt. He could hear her trooping down the hall and was quick to follow.

She stopped about 20ft down, past three doors on the right, he knew, and held a door open. He reached a hand out to the wall and turned on his heel when he touched the door frame. Mrs. Graham slammed it behind him.

"Hello, son."

Finally Something Literary!

Hey!

Guess what? I finally decided to pick up a book and it's a good one too! I'm very proud of myself. It's so literary. I was thinking of reading something for fun like finishing Eragon, but then I was like,
"Nahhhh. I should read that book by Stephen King."

So I did!

On Sunday night I cornered my parents into making a late night run to Borders (I say 'late night' but what I mean is, 6:30. When you have little siblings, and it gets dark out early, and the whole week was a busy chaotic mess, night tends to start about 4:45) and I managed to find On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King.

It's actually really interesting. The book is broken into sections, the first being an mini-account of King's memories growing up and getting into the writing business. The secound part of the book is about writing and what it takes to be a good writer (that's the part that I'm on. It's titled The Toolbox) and I assume that the third section is on the publishing/writing world.

I think the thing that I like about it is how informal and funny he writes. I've only read half of one of his lesser known novella's (the Langoliers) but-- lame as this may sound-- I've seen quite a few of his stories movie reproductions. The Stand, the Langoliers, Secret Window, The Mist, Dreamcatcher. And in each of his movies, he makes some sort of appearance. Usually it's just a quick cameo, but in the Stand he had was a minor character; a speaking role that was important to the plot. So I've heard him speak. He has this whine to his voice. And he speaks with a 'country' accent; he's from Maine, which I knew, but he also grew up in the lower class, moving around a lot with a single mother, which I didn't. When I was reading his memoirs, I could hear him speak. Seriously. It was like he was right next to me, reading over my shoulder. The man writes with such character! He's so personable! He shows everything as it is, he doesn't make a big deal over anything, but he gives it his own spin. He makes his life enjoyable by the way he writes.

That's what I want to do! I want to write like him, to make my experiences and memories better than as they are! I want to make girls and boys laugh out loud, and cry, and smile! He even makes his lesson's on the art of the written word amusing!

The timid fellow writes The meeting will be held at seven o'clock becuase this somehow says to him, 'Put it this way and people will believe you really know.' Purge this quisling thought! Don't be a muggle! Throw back your shoulders, stick out your chin,and put that meeting in charge! Write The meeting's at seven. There, by God! Don't you feel better?"
~ Stephen King, on passive voice versus active voice in On Writing,
pg 123

He makes what is being read entertaining, and that's what I worry the most about on my writing. Even if I write one hundred books, it doesn't mean jack unless people want to read them-- unless they are worth being read.
Right now he's talking about paragraphs and how they flow. How sentence length and composition can effect the flow of a piece. It's interesting, but sort of useless to me. At one point he says "The more fiction you read and write, the more you'll find your paragraphs forming on their own." I think that applies to me. I really don't care about paragraphs right now. I want the juicy stuff; bring on the things I don't know, Mr King! I'm ready and willing for the unknown!
(P.s. Did you see how this time, the post is more structured? I stuck to one subject. I didn't skip around like a fairy in a field, dancing in the own eddies of my mind. This time I kept it sweet and simple. Did you notice? Did you like it?)

Numero Tres

Oh! Hey!

Yeah, Hi, I just went to this fantastic restuarant, called El Mariachi. You ever been to Albany?

Well, the next time you go, you have to check this place out. It's great. My friend Brittni and I went there today for an early dinner. I had Rebosos con Mole, which is fried plantains (like bananas) in a tortilla with Mole ("MOH-lay") sauce. Do you know what Mole sauce is?

Only the GREATEST SAUCE IN HISTORY. It's mostly very light flavored chocolate, but it's got a lot of spices in it. It's spicy :) And I love it. And it's fantastic on banana things with crispy chips. My friend Brittni and I go there whenever we can. I have to admit I have acquired something of an addiction. Everytime we go there that's the only thing I really eat. That, and virging strawberry daiquiri's.

The first time Bri and I went there and we ordered the daiquiri's we were very excited. Brittni because she absolutely loves daiquiri's and hadn't had one in forever, and I because we were in Mexican/Spanish restuarant with awesome vibes. We got the drinks, and we took a sip, and after a minute we both paused. It was great, but there was something off about them. Naturally, we kept drinking. And drinking. We couldn't figure out what was wrong with them.

"Hey," I said to her whilst slipping, "Do you think... Is it possible that she didn't give us virgin daiquiri's?"

Brittni froze. She smirked. We locked eyes, then looked our drinks. "It's possible..." She said. But that made me nervous. Shouldn't we say something? She shook her head. "They probably use the same blender." Oh, okay.

So we kept drinking, thinking that if there really was any alcohol we'd eventually feel the effects. The food came, we ate the food, Alexa freaked out because of the beautiful mole, and eventually it was time to leave. The daiquiri's were gone. BUT THE MYSTERIOUS TASTE WAS STILL THERE.

What could it be? We wondered as we left (that's a lie. Neither one of us really cared/rememered until we ate there again, a week later) what it could be.

The answer?

LIME!

The next time we had them, they tasted way better, knowing what the mysterious taste was.

So you have to try it. This restuarant. The Mole. The strawberry-lime daiquiri's. But don't go to the other El Mariachi's ('cause I guess there's more than one). You have to go to the one on the corner of Swan and Hamilton. It's the best.

Adios!

This Will Be the 2nd

Hi again!

I'm so glad you could make it! You have no idea how happy it makes me that you decided to come back. And if you're new, welcome!

It's pretty much going to be the same thing as before. Feel free to give me feedback or critisism. I need it.

So, I really need a new title. I can't keep calling this thing "Within You". It sounds like some pansy self help book. What would I call it? What should it henceforth be named? I really want to call it something that references writing or reading or maybe one of my favorite books. Only problem with that being that I have A) No time to look through my bookshelves and B) No inspiration.

I've found out that writing a blog is a lot harder than it looks.

The other thing that I have to do is promote myself. Few if none (in my opinion) are going to stumble across this using the "Next Blog" button, so I really need to post my address whereever I can, get more followers and generally generate publicity for myself. Which is silly because let's be honest, I'm really just a teenager with an obession, and makes me feel sleazy because it requires me to sell myself.

But I've been trying to get my friends to read this, (via facebook and tumblr and deviantart) and so far I've got a few people looking. I've had a few a surprises and those surprises have caused me to look at them alittle bit closer.

It's like I'm walking through the forest, and I'm looking for a specific animal like a bear or something, and then there's commotion in the underbrush and I go over to investigate. It turns out to be a deer, but I've never seen a real live deer before, so I take some pictures. Now I'm looking for deers and bears.

Did you get the analogy? I'm looking for followers (bears) but as I'm looking for them, I find other people that are following me or leaving comments (deers) and now I'm almost more interested in finding deers. I mean, blogs for me to follow. There are alot of interesting people out there, you know.

One of the people that I've started following is this girl I know, named Kate. I didn't even know she had a blog! I didn't know she had an awesome, interesting blog! First thing I saw on her website was this:




Which looks pretty awesome. I've heard of Bob Dylan, but I know next to nothing about him. Didn't he write/sing that song "They Times They are a Changin' "? This movie makes me want to learn more about him. The idea that he could be so many people is unique and vibrant. It makes me want more. Did he have a multiple personality disorder? Was he secretly a fragmented individual? Or is the choice of direction a metaphor for the possiblities we all have inside of us?

Needless to say, "I'm Not There" is now in my queue on Netflix.
This morning I had a mini-panic attack. I HAVE SO MUCH TO DO. I wanted to make a bazillion posts and post them all at the same time. I keep getting ideas about what I want to write about. Like I have a rant I've been saving up, and I wanted to talk about the Flood in my Basement and how it's going to ruin Christmas. And the Muffin and Post-it analogy and also, perhaps most importantly, Bruce the Bruise.
But more than I have ideas to write do I have books to read. I really want to expland my reading tastes. I recently acquired The Road by Cormac McCarthy and I have at least twenty classics waiting for me on my selves. It just doesn't seem like I have the time.
:(
Yes, I know. I'll make the time.
Lastly, my little sister Clare turned 7 today. I couldn't help but feel a little sentimental. First we watched The Princess and the Frog --
(WHICH WAS ABSOLUTELY FREAKING AMAZING. I love Naveen. He's my new favorite prince. I love his character developement and personality. I'm a total sucker for french accents and jazz loving playboys. When the movie was still in the theaters I heard a lot of critism for it. Mostly about how it could be construed as rascist, and annoyance that Tiana wasn't technically a princess when Disney was labeling her as one. Tiana becomes a real princess in the end, but I liked the way she had to work for it. It teaches a better lesson to little girls all over the world-- not only that hard work pays off, but that if you really put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything. Because of that, The Princess and the Frog is officially one of my favorite all time Disney movies.)
-- and then the whole family went to her birthday party at the local bowling lanes. It was weird to see the different sides of her. Usually Clare is a happy-go-lucky kid, wrapped up completely in her own world. She often comes across as the stereotypical 'little sister', playing up the cuteness and innocence. But when we were watching the movie, my other little sister was constantly asking questions about things that had happened three minutes ago-- and Clare was answering with astute accuracy. I had never known that Clare was that observant. And then at the bowling lanes she was quiet. She socialized, but not like I expected her too. She was almost... hesitant. No, that's not the word. She almost seemed to ignor her friends. If they didn't come to her, she didn't go to them. She hung out with me and my sister Marie. (I also learned that she was a fantastic bowler)
I'm always surprised by the people around me. They're really a lot like characters in a book-- 2 dimensional until you say a certain thing and they reveil a little bit more of themselves. A good friend of mine once compared people to puzzles and how each moment you spend with them and each thing you know about them is a piece of that puzzle. You're always finding more pieces for their puzzle, but you'll never know the what the picture is about. It's funny how even a family member you've known for her whole life, even a child, can be such a complex puzzle.
How many pieces of my puzzle do you have?
At least a few by now. Blogs are funny-- You'll have so many pieces of me, but I'll have next to none of you.
Well, I have to be going. Books to read and deer to find. You understand.

First Up

Hi, there.

How are you?

You're well? Good. That's what I like to hear.

So. Uh, hi. Welcome to the Blog. It's called "Within You" but that is definitely subject to change, just because if your mind skims over it really quickly it almost seems religious, and I really don't want this venture to have any religious opinion on it, whatsoever period. Maybe I'll change it to "The Blog". That sounds cool, if not a bit lame. I'm sure there must be other blogs-- older blogs-- out there with that name. Like, maybe that was the first blog ever. Maybe whoever invented the blog was typing away at his computer and created the slang version of "web log" (blog) and was like,

"MUAHAHA. And I shall call this THE BLOG. And they will FEAR the MIGHTY AWESOMENESS of my BLOG. MUAHAHA. HAHA."

At least, that's how I picture it.

Naming blogs seem like a fickle business. I feel like it's like naming a book-- usually you don't name it until you're half way done. Unless you start out with the name and work from there. But usually that method seems a little lame (I'm liking this word tonight). Those blogs/stories would be something like "A Story of a Girl" or just "Name" --- like in this case "Within You" or "Alexa's Blog". (Feel free to read those " " bits with a snooty airy tone)

At this point, you must be wondering

"SO what's the point of this whole thing. What's this girl's deal?"

Well, this girl's deal is that she likes to write---

"OH GOLDFISH. Here we go again. Just another girl whining about the world and her life and her friends. OH THE DRAMA."

NO. No. No, that's not it at all. I've tried that road before. I've tried the whine-whine and the woe-is-me business and and the self-inflicted drama. Thank you, but no. I'm done with that. You will be pleased to learn that the pity and angst has been replaced with determination and ambition. I actually have a point for this.

It's writing.

Seriously. My life's dream is to be a novelist. Not even be a novelist, but to publish a book. I've known I wanted to do this for a really long time (long time) and I know for a fact that I have good ideas. My plots are golden. I'm confidant in my creativity, and in my need to realize my dream. I'm confidant that I'll get there, despite all the hoopla of every other 'misunderstood teenage writer' who shoots off bells and whistles every chance they get saying they're going to make it one day when they really suck. Unlike them, this is not a 'maybe-one-day thing'. Unlike so many others, this is not a 'I'm-gonna-head-on-up-tuh-the-big-city-an'-make-it' thing. This is a "I-want-this-so-I'm-going-to-WORK-AT-IT" thing.

(Yuh readin' me here?)

So I've researched the major parts of getting published (I've decided to forgo the whole self-publish thing. I'm ambitious but not that ambitious) like editors and publishing houses; literary agents and query letters. Actually, I'm still in the process of researching. Right now I'm trying to ingest as much information about this new world as possible. Read as many books, look at as many websites, etc. And I recently read this book about The Whole Process. It's called Writing and Publishing: The Ultimate Teen Guide (It Happened to Me) by Tina P. Schwartz and she mentions in the book that anyone wishing to better themselves as a writer should a) read a lot b) read a lot of blogs c) write a lot. She also mentions that writing a blog is a good way to promote yourself as a writer, because it gets your name out and makes your writing more accessible.

Well, that freaked me out quite a bit, simply because I don't have a blog. I don't even write everyday! How the hedgehog am I supposed to get my writing out to the world if no one even knows who I am?! How am I supposed to better myself if I don't write every day? How am I supposed to know I'm really good if the only people that I really let read my works are my friends?

[ Sidenote: HELLO FRIENDS! This is your official shout-out! :) Thanks so much for reading, if you love me leave a comment :D ]

So I said to myself:

"Ohmyjigglypuff, Alexa. You have to make a blog."

And I did. (slash am)

Because yes, I'm confidant in my creativity. Yes, I am confidant that I want this enough. Yes, I am even ready for the inevitable rejection. I know it's going to come, and I'm okay with that. Do you know why? Because I'm SEVENTEEN. Because I have THE REST OF MY LIFE if I need it. The other day when I was freaking out about all the things I haven't done in my life to prepare myself for the decathlon of writing and publishing a novel, someone said something along the lines of, "Chill out. You are only a teenager. You've got the rest of your life to do stuff and accomplish things."

Yes, but. But that is no excuse for putting off something I can get started on right now. Just because I'm young, doesn't mean I have anything less to contribute. Doesn't mean that I don't have to push myself to become better.

That's why I'm doing this. That's why I'm committing myself to this little insignificant blog-- even if no one ever reads it but my friends, even if no one ever reads it at all!-- I am going to keep it up because it will be making myself a better writer. I'm confidant that I am worth the work. My dreams are worth the effort. I want this; I'm willing to work for it.

Maybe I'm not the writer I think I am. But by the time I publish my book, if I keep writing this, and stick to the plan, I will be. Or I'll be better.

That being said, I don't want you to think that this is only a blog about me and book-ing. Everyone says "Write what you know" so that's what I'll be doing. I'll post ramblings like this, and poems and links/commentaries to articles and other blogs. I have some friends on Tumblr so I'll probs be posting links to their sites. Maybe I'll post some papers if I write any that I'm particularly proud of. I'm also hoping to post pictures I'll create with my Wacom tablet :) But mostly I'll just write. Hopefully it will be interesting enough to get some followers. Not exactly sure how to go about doing that...

What's that? You've got to go? Oh, yeah, I don't blame you. It is getting late, and I'm sure you have other things to do.

Thanks for your time. Hope to see you again.

Goodnight. Goodbye.