reflection

This was an intresting assiment, I may have not have written as much as I should have but I wrote when I could. One difficulty I had in writing these blogs was finding the time to write them. I love writing freewrite and all that I write starts out as a freewrite and I go back afterwards to do corrections. I loved the promts I found to do this and I believe I would love to continue this assiements and continue writing. I am sure with practice my blog entries would grow in numbers other then getting one or three a week. I also like the comments that I got and reading others blogs. I did find issues finding my peers blogs and only read blogs to people who comment to my blog postings and then read from people who commented them. I also found the formating a little weird and that I couldn't get a regular back ground to my typeing and the organizing of the blog confuses me. This was a fun assiment but it also kinda got pushed to the back burner of everything, I write every day but usually its in a journal or on microsoft word. But on google I rarely use it and only use google docs as a back up.

10/1

Use these words: Plastic Bottle, Hockey puck, dirty handkerchief, crumpled note, unhinged door. Ok I lied about not using Fan fiction characters, this was unplanned but this is what came out when I started writing. The Characters are from the anime Axis Powers: Hetalia and this is not based in the same universe as the cannon.
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Matthew sighed as he entered his dorm room, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder and his school bag by his side. Closing the door Matthew crossed the room and went to his side of the dorm that he shared with his twin brother. Setting his duffle bag heavily onto his made bed, Matthew sighed pushing his hair out of his face. Setting on the bed Matthew pulled his shoulder bag to his side and started going through it before realizing his duffle bag was to close to the edge. With the pressure of him sitting on the bed the duffle bag fell off hitting the ground with a heavy thud. A hockey puck rolling out of the side pocket, sighing Matthew fell back wondering if anything else could go wrong that day. A bang startled him out of his thoughts causing him to jackknife up.

“Yo Mattie you hear!” A loud voice called.

Matthew winced at the loud tone, and stood up resting his shoulder on the door frame of his bed room. In the living space of the dorm, he saw his brother Alfred moving around the room, dropping his bags and books as he went. Plopping on the sofa Alfred drained his water bottle and tossed the empty plastic bottle towards the trash. The bottle bounced off the wall and landed into the trashcan.

“Do you have to be so loud Al?” Matthew asked still leaning on the doorframe.

“I’m not loud, I’m just to awesome to be quite. Maybe you should be louder, people can’t hear you half the time.”

“Only because they are to deaf to hear me after talking with you.”

Alfred stuck his tongue out before turning to the TV, they had searching through the games under the small table between the sofa and TV stand.

“Don’t you have homework?” Matthew asked entering the room fully.

“Nope, finished it before practice.”

“With or without Arthur’s help?”

“I can do my homework without his help for your information.”

“Sure Al.” Matthew said before turning back to his room and grabbed his shoulder back.

Shouldering it Matthew walked through the living space towards the door.

“Where ya going Mat?” Alfred called from the floor in front of the game station.

“Someplace quit to study. Knowing you the volume will be all the way up.” Matthew said leaving the dorm before his brother could say anything else.

Walking through the dorm building Matthew left the building and went out onto the green lawn of the campus. The school was a high school or sorts but it was mostly used to get people from different countries together and form friendships all while learning together. Matthew and Alfred were from the United States, but Matthew preferred to be associated with their Mother’s country Canada. They found out about the school in their 9^th grade year of school and they thought it was interesting, and would give them experience with other people from other countries. They were now in their final year of school. The architecture was a mix of regions in hopes to help the students and staffs feel at home. Walking across the green Matthew looked for a spot to sit in the shade, a few students were outside most either still in class or in an after school program.

“Alfred.” A voice said causing Matthew to stop.

Looking to the side Matthew saw Arthur walking towards him.

“Alfred I was wondering…”

“I’m Matthew Arthur.”

“What? Oops sorry Matthew.”

“It’s alright, Al’s at the dorm.”

“Thank you and I do apologize.”

“It’s alright, it’s not like it’s the first or last time someone mixes us up.”

“So where are you heading?”

“Just looking for someplace to study.” Matthew said shrugging.

“The grove was clear last I checked.” Arthur said before hearing his phone chirp.

Digging through his bag Arthur pulled his phone out dropping a muddy handkerchief. Arthur read his text message and looked at the ground frowning.

“Sorry about that.” Arthur said picking up the handkerchief.

Noticing Matthew’s puzzled look he explained.

“Francis dropped it into a puddle when we were arguing.” Arthur said holding the dirty handkerchief up. “Any way you should try the grove.”

“Thanks Arthur.”

Matthew said waving good-bye and headed for the grove of trees, that was popular with students. Walking through the trees Matthew found a low stonewall and sat on it before pulling his books out and leaning his back against a pillar at the end of the wall. Pulling a notebook out and a clip board Matthew started doing his assignments enjoying the quite scenery. Half an hour passed and Matthew was doodling in his notebook when he felt something hit him. Looking down Matthew saw a crumbled up piece of paper on the ground. Frowning Matthew leaned down and picked up the paper. Opening it, he realized it was a note assigned to him; frowning Matthew looked around but saw no one. Reading the crumbled note Matthew frowned at its words.

Matthew,

            Met me in the library in two hours.

                                                            G.B.

Confused Matthew sighed guessing who sent the note, slipping it into his pocket Matthew stood up and figured he might as well drop his stuff off at his dorm and get something to eat before he goes to the library.

~two hours later~

Matthew stopped at the library entrance looking around for the person he suspected gave him the note. Not seeing them, Matthew entered the library. Nodding to the librarian Matthew quickly made his way to the history section having an idea where to find the note giver. The history section was large and had any topic you could think about from history. Moving to the Germanic section Matthew noticed white, changing directions Matthew approached the table sitting in the chair across from the Whitenette. Sitting quietly for a few seconds Matthew tapped the book that the man was reading, the man jumped started but quickly grinned upon seeing Matthew.

“You came!”

“Of course, but couldn’t you just came to me and ask?”

“What fun would that be?”

“You are so strange sometimes Gilbert.”

“I’m awesome like that.” Gilbert said grinning.

“So is there a purpose to this meeting?”

“Not really I wanted company while I did research.”

“Since when do you want company? You may act like you are a people person but you don’t like being around people that’s why you annoy them.”

“Your different you are quite and don’t talk about useless things. Take today in class for example we were suppose to talk about the formation and movement of Germanic tribes but instead we got into story time when someone almost unhinged the door.”

“May I ask who almost unhinged the door?”

“Who do you think, your idiot of a younger brother. He forgot the door opened the opposite direction and bent the hinges when he ran into it.”

Matthew laughed “Well at least you know his training in foot ball is going great.”

“Who cares about foot ball, we are in class for a reason not to have story time. The only good thing that happened was when the teacher had Alfred fix the door.”

Matthew smiled and leaned back in his chair “So what are you reading?”

Gilbert quickly perked up and started talking about the different German tribes that were around Roman times his face lighting up and his motions animated. Matthew shifted comfortably in his chair and listened glad he came. 

Rant

Hey everyone this is just me ranting and such, you may learn something about me in this but I need to do this. Maybe I will be able to finish a story after this. I love writing and I experince writers block just like everyone else. But one thing I hate more then writers block is being overwhelmed by plot ideas. This lasty week I have created six diffrent plot ideas for a site I go onto all the time called Fanfiction. For those who don't know what Fanfiction is let me explain. Its something someone does when they write something envolving someone else's characters that you do not own. I have been on a fanfiction website since July 14, 2012, it has helped me learn to write and expand on plot lines and diffrent styles of writing. I have a total of 26 stories posted on the site and more are in the making. But having Fanfiction in my head also makes my head cluttered due to my own characters and plotlines. I have been creating some of my plotlines or characters since 5th grade. One of my oldest characters is my take of the myth of the bringer of winter, his character is based off of a mix of legends about the bringer of Winter. His name is the norse version Jökul Frosti, his relationship with spring is similar but not quite to the legend of the Russian Father Frost. His personality is the mixture of the two above with the additive of Grandfather Frost and Jack Frost. But he isn't my only character, I also have a character named Väi. He is one of my most abused characters, when ever I have a bad day he always ends up suffering. I don't know why but when I feel sad I start to push that feeling onto him, he is one of my more depresing characters but his personality is kind and friendly. But with all these characters in my head last counted I had over 200 named characters I could think off the top of my head that are my own characters and at most that many I work with in fanfiction. I see insperation for all these characters every where I go. It could come from what I see, hear, or even an arguement I have with my sister. I love writing but sometimes I feel overwhelmed and just want to be by myself. Some may think I am crazy because I seem to have arguements with myself and whole conversations and I may be a little bit. But I talk to figure out conversations and I act out what my characters are doing. Thats why is anyone watches me when I start talking they can see i move from place to place and look as if I am holding things or I change the way I stand. This post was complety random but I need to put this out, my other posts have hinted to my characters. I try to seperate my personal stories from my Fanfiction so don't expect to see me talking about my stories in Fanfiction, I will only use my own characters through this.
Thank you for being patiant with this rant and hope I didn't bore you.
Ciao.

9/24

Prompt: You're in a room full of people and you're the only blind person there. Describe the room and the people in your mind.
A/N I chose this prompt because I figure it would give me practice for writing one of my characters who was born blind. Also just finished writing it and I didn't stick with what the prompt says my bad wasnt paying attention to what I was saying. 
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I lean against the wall, the cool hard stone pressed against my back and the air in front of me hot and stiffling.  People walk by me not seeing me or anyone else lost in their own worlds, they are to busy to stop and listen to their enviroment. They can't hear the splash of the fountains, or the pitched laughter of children. They can't feel the breeze thats steals its way into the building, making them shift their jackets without being aware of doing it. There voices a deafing sound constently overlapping and envolving all who were near by. At a kiask  a man from the sound of the voice and the heavy shift of his feet, dropped some of his change pulling out of his pocket. No one stopped, the sound of the man dropping to his knees making a muffled thud. One of the coins rolled to my boot, kneeling I felt for the coin. The coin was smooth with a textured surface and a bumpy edge, the size telling me it was a quarter. Stepping from the wall, I begain to dodge shoppers some not even bothering to apologize when they ran into me or I them. The man stands before I make it to the Kiask, I can hear moving to talk to the owner. With out a word I set the coin down near the man, then turn and walk away extanding my cane. the sight of the cane makes people avoide me, reminding me why I hated having the thing. Making me wish I didn't have to relly on this piece of plastic and medal to make sure I didn't trip over something. And make people realise I am not like them and they either see me as below them or they pity me. I am just like them why can't they see that? Why are they more blinded then I who by defination is blind.

9/22

In 400 words, write your ideal place.
A/N this is 399 words long so close enough.
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My ideal place would be wide and clear, nature all around me. There will be thickets of conifers scattered across the open fields of grass and snow. The wind will be clean and cool, and pull the snow from its slumber on the ground and dance across the air. Herds of deer would wonder from wood to wood, and the howls of wolves could be heard in the distance. There would be scattered villages with wood board houses and smoke curling from the chimney. The people would be a community living in a simpler time and welcome a friendly new face. There would be gathering around the fire and stories would be told and songs sang. Back to the country there would be signs of winter everywhere even in the depths of summer. The songs of winter will play year round and though the days could be grey, you can still see the beauty in everything. The forests will be quite havens to all who enter and be a completely different world. Everything would be quite and you can feel the beat of something ancient pulsing under your feet. Like a church the forest will give a presence of something greater then you and you will be safe in its recesses. Above you can hear the songs of birds, and feel the touch of the sun as it streams through the branches. The sounds of the beasts of the forest will alert you to their presence and if you are lucky could see the grace of an old stage, or the sight of a laughing wolf in the confines of the woods. As you walk further you can feel something guiding you, deeper into the forest to the heart. You can also smell the sharp scent of cedar and pine as you crush there needles under your feet, and the crisp smell of snow. In the heart you would find a massive structure of white marble. A city seemingly grown from the ground reaches towards the sky, the top of the highest tower gleaming in the winter sun. Around the city are empty fields and the boundary of the woods and city marked by white tiles of marble. The city is left empty and perfect the power of the world radiating from its walls, and if you are quite you can hear the knowledge of times long since passed. 

Look at a magazine and find a picture that appeals to you. Cut it out, paste it in your notebook and write about it. 
Picture is from Fairbanks Alaska and I do not own it. 

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 I am changing this due to the fact google images is easier to get then from a magazine. Now that I got that little detail out of the way, let’s begin. Please be warn I will properly make this more like a story and most of this will be a free write without me going back and rewriting it. 

The sun stains the sky with pinks and purples as it slowly sinks below the horizon masked by a screen of furs. Distant from the heavens is the cold ground, where ice creeks and groans as it spreads its deadly fingers across a glossy surface, and the slumbering trees. In the distance a abandon farm lies pass an iron bridge, that once carried the lives blood of the land. Closer was an impressive estate that even in its faded state still gives a glory that ravels the nature that slowly chokes it. In front of the estate lies a black river of ice that crumbles more and more each passing season. The people are gone, but the trees that slumber in there icy cocoons remember. They remember the laughter of children who skated across the frozen recesses of the pond, and the yells of mothers who beckoning their young ones in for night was near. The fathers came from the barns, and woods bundles of wood clutched to their sides. They remember the bellowing of cattle in the barn and the whinnies of the horses. But those are gone now the only sounds being that of a lone wolf, or the screams of a pheasant as a fox kills it. The pond is empty of children and remains pristine in its natural state, waiting for the thawing of spring. The trees bow their branches in the cold wind, that signals that winter has only begun and that the emptiness will remain. 

Sleepsong by Secret Garden (with lyrics)