As I walked to breakfast this morning, after my eight o clock math class, I came across a letter that I had written, in my head. I felt as though all my sentiments had been copied and typed in neat times new roman 12 pt text and printed and pasted on the cafeteria doors.
Lady in Red, you took my thoughts verbatim.! (just felt the need to blog that!)
oh, and why does one promote a guestlisted party? what i mean is, if you are handing out invitations, and its A-listed, and everyone else isnt invited, then why are you pasting huge posters everywhere and advertising for the very everyone who you arent inviting??huh? food for thought...
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
excerpt from my novel... 01-01-08.
She sat quietly on one side of the gathering, at the end of the food laden table. Her mother stood by her left, dishing out kebabs and kafta onto a small paper plate, and her dad sat by her right, blissfully absorbed in clearing away the contents of his plate. It was a chilly night, but the heat from the roasting ram made the shawl she was carrying unnecessary. It was gone eleven, and beside the garden in the huge driveway, the boys were having what they called a fireworks war; two warring teams lobbing fireworks at each other.
Smilingly, she watched them, wishing that she had chosen to wear something a little more casual so that she could have joined them. She would feel ridiculous running around with them in the chocolate satin pencil dress that she had chosen to wear.
It was strapless, and clung to her jutting bones as tightly has her own skin would; she had specified that she wanted it that way a few months back when she sketched the design for the tailor who had sewn it. She had worn it with gold stiletto sandals, and couldn’t decide whether falling flat on her face would be more embarrassing than the dress ripping in half. That she would be turning sixteen in seven days in no way changed the fact that she had the body of an awkward, and very tall, eleven year old, and was the prime cause for her taste in clothes far more mature and racy than was common amongst her peers.
She had good features, she knew, a smiling, open mouth, bright, speaking eyes and fair olive skin, but she would never delude herself with notions of beauty or grace; attributes that she tried to compensate for with an excess of personality and what she hoped was intelligence.
Turning back to the table, she meekly took the plate that her mother handed her, full of extra portions as usual.. The night was so festive that she didn’t feel she had the courage to spoil it, with protestations or futile arguments; her mother knew as well as she that her weight problem was not as a result of her diet. Picking at her food, she listened with a half ear to the joke that was being told, and allowed her mind to wander.
She sat quietly on one side of the gathering, at the end of the food laden table. Her mother stood by her left, dishing out kebabs and kafta onto a small paper plate, and her dad sat by her right, blissfully absorbed in clearing away the contents of his plate. It was a chilly night, but the heat from the roasting ram made the shawl she was carrying unnecessary. It was gone eleven, and beside the garden in the huge driveway, the boys were having what they called a fireworks war; two warring teams lobbing fireworks at each other.
Smilingly, she watched them, wishing that she had chosen to wear something a little more casual so that she could have joined them. She would feel ridiculous running around with them in the chocolate satin pencil dress that she had chosen to wear.
It was strapless, and clung to her jutting bones as tightly has her own skin would; she had specified that she wanted it that way a few months back when she sketched the design for the tailor who had sewn it. She had worn it with gold stiletto sandals, and couldn’t decide whether falling flat on her face would be more embarrassing than the dress ripping in half. That she would be turning sixteen in seven days in no way changed the fact that she had the body of an awkward, and very tall, eleven year old, and was the prime cause for her taste in clothes far more mature and racy than was common amongst her peers.
She had good features, she knew, a smiling, open mouth, bright, speaking eyes and fair olive skin, but she would never delude herself with notions of beauty or grace; attributes that she tried to compensate for with an excess of personality and what she hoped was intelligence.
Turning back to the table, she meekly took the plate that her mother handed her, full of extra portions as usual.. The night was so festive that she didn’t feel she had the courage to spoil it, with protestations or futile arguments; her mother knew as well as she that her weight problem was not as a result of her diet. Picking at her food, she listened with a half ear to the joke that was being told, and allowed her mind to wander.
Monday, February 8, 2010
*Week 3, Valentines*
**On red label and purple BettyComeFMe stilettoes**
Friday night was the polo party at jireh suites... I must say, it was good... after the red label...:)
Sometimes, I really wish i was a guy, and could do guy stuff, like fighting in the club.
like seriously.... big shoutout to dj quiksilva...(Where dey do dat at????)
Anyway, thats about all about the party... i think i would have appreciated it more if i had had more red label.
**on how i now slack off on my schoolwork because i am too lazy to work during the day and too busy :) to work in the night.**
nuff said
**On wondering why my valentines day sucks each year**
thats not unique to me alone, why do guys suddenly get malaria on vals day>> ??
**on a party in the cafeteria, which is a part of this other party**
im still confused about this
**on demanding friends**
Well.....
**on jeezing in...**
WELL!
extremely random blog. posting my first Writing 101 in class writing excersise on wednesday... "who am I?"
Friday night was the polo party at jireh suites... I must say, it was good... after the red label...:)
Sometimes, I really wish i was a guy, and could do guy stuff, like fighting in the club.
like seriously.... big shoutout to dj quiksilva...(Where dey do dat at????)
Anyway, thats about all about the party... i think i would have appreciated it more if i had had more red label.
**on how i now slack off on my schoolwork because i am too lazy to work during the day and too busy :) to work in the night.**
nuff said
**On wondering why my valentines day sucks each year**
thats not unique to me alone, why do guys suddenly get malaria on vals day>> ??
**on a party in the cafeteria, which is a part of this other party**
im still confused about this
**on demanding friends**
Well.....
**on jeezing in...**
WELL!
extremely random blog. posting my first Writing 101 in class writing excersise on wednesday... "who am I?"
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