Journal Report #5

At times I feel like giving up on writing.  On days when everything seems to go wrong and the only words I can muster to write feel like a mirror reflecting all my mistakes.  Or, when I cannot seem to describe a characters feelings except for through stereotypes and forced similes.  At times I want to do just about anything else, but than I read a book or hear a poem, and I realize that writing is worth it.  It's worth the hard times.  It's worth the pages and pages I know I'm going to throw away because if I don't I might just throw up.  Writing, like living, means taking one more step, staying up one more hour, and trying one more time.  Writing has brought me so many close friends, and is thing I think about the most when I go to sleep.    One more amazing thing about writing, each word I put down helps me learn more about myself.  Think on it.

Reading:

I finished Goliath.  What I found interesting is that although the storyline for Scott Westerfeld's Leviathan trilogy was not your typical plot curve, his characters made every page of those books interesting.  I feel in love with their dialogue, their personalities, and their voice.  A classic trilogy that I feel most junior high and high school kids will enjoy.

I also read Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse.  I love it.  The writing was beautiful and the story brought me to tears.  Something I loved was the growth of the main character.  Watching a character grow and learn through trying times always inspires me to do better.

I started Divergent, another dystopian, and so far so go.

Writing:

This weekend I attended a funeral at a Methodist church in Lee's Summit, Missouri.  As I witnessed the ceremony the thought came to my mind about a character who is addicted to attending funerals because he/she loves hearing about all the positive things in people's lives.  I decided to write about it.

The color black fills my closet.  Black suits.  Black shirts. Black slacks. And, most importantly, black ties.  I started collecting them a year ago, the day of my first funeral.  I noticed people walking into the church on a Thursday morning, and I though, Thursday, when did people start going to church on Thursday.

People gathered together in clumps, tears falling down their cheeks.  Hugs were exchanged.  Kind words spoken.  It almost moved me to tears.  After a few minutes, people made there way over to the pews and began sitting down.  I followed.

"Please Arise!" A booming voice fell from the ceiling.  It felt as if God were speaking to me.  A man in a suit walked towards the front of the chapel followed by a family.  The family sat down on the front row and the man began speaking.  "We gather together today to mourn the passing of our good friend Tyler, but more importantly to celebrate the wonderful life that he lived."  Celebrate, at a funeral.  This is new.  "Let us pray."  People all around me bowed their heads as the preacher began praying.  Not knowing what else to do, I bowed my head as well.

My Crazy Life:

So, like I said earlier, I attended a funeral this weekend in Missouri.  My roommates best friend from high school had passed away after fighting cancer for two years.  My roommate really wanted to go, but he didn't have a car and couldn't afford a plane ticket.  He asked me if I wanted to come, and I offered to let him use my car.  35 hours on the road in a 72 hour span.  You learn a lot about people when you spend that much time in a car together.  I suggest you do it sometime, or better yet stick a couple of your characters in a car together and have them take a road trip.  What do they talk about?  Do they get along?  Why? Why not?

Well that's enough for me.  Goodbye for now.