Joeducktape
Novelist
Hehehehehehe... MUAHAHAHAHAHA!
Posts: 307
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Post by Joeducktape on May 30, 2006 18:45:38 GMT -5
Write about your day as if you were someone else watching you live it. Try to keep it short; five paragraphs max. Have fun!
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Post by Crysi on May 30, 2006 19:23:32 GMT -5
Hah, I catch myself narrating my day sometimes... It's funny. Anyway...
Crysi woke up with a groan. She did not want to get up, but that was normal. She had just found a comfy position and could easily fall asleep again - but that was normal, too. She had stayed up all night talking to her boyfriend and having very profound conversations with him. All normal. After her usual five minutes of sleeping in, she dragged herself into the bathroom and got ready.
School remained interesting for her. In band, she managed to not murder everyone with the piccolo (although some people were further scarred), and no one knocked over her bottle of Dr. Pepper under her chair (which was for an event she wasn't even going to be attending). She gained a few more band awards, applied for the position of section leader, and generally enjoyed herself. Chemistry brought even more joy, which for once is not written in sarcasm. Achieving a B on her last test, Crysi also gained ten extra credit points by reciting the first ten alkanes and their formulas from memory in front of the class. This gave her a nice C overall, which was a great improvement over the F she was sure she had. Lunch brought a few stresses as she didn't know if she had a ride home, but all was solved in the end. Creative Writing was far more interesting than usual; she and her friend Heather wrote poems starting with the same line and were very amused. They all read a cute play, then took food to the office to store for the aforementioned event.
Satisfied with the way the day turned out, Crysi gave herself the luxury of sleeping after school. When she woke up, she had an hour to herself before she had to get ready for a band concert. As usual, she chose to spend that time on the computer. With a tummy full of dinner, she went to the performance, which was dull but still enjoyable. She returned home, played on the computer even more (messing with programming and such, for she is quite the nerd), and talked to her boyfriend all night once again. Thus is the substance of her life.
Hmm... I just realized. Did you mean to write it as a third person narrative, or as a first person account of the author's day? For instance, instead of how I wrote it, did you mean for me to act as, say, Mesh watching my day? Ah well. Something to try later, I'm sure.
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Elizabeth
Senior Writer
DANCE MONKEY!!!
Posts: 176
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Post by Elizabeth on May 31, 2006 19:02:09 GMT -5
Alright, so I nearly pushed a kid down the staircase before school even began, it doesn't matter to me at all, he deserved what was coming to him. Everybody does.
Nobody crosses me and lives to not regret it.
I am not an easily angered person but somehow Connor and Colton brought it out in me today....
So how was my day?
Murderous, I wanna kill somebody still, I can't focus on my homework.
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Post by xanthangum on Jun 1, 2006 21:27:11 GMT -5
She was completely crazy. I'm not kidding - this woman is wild. She started off the day completely normal, like all teenage girls, fixing her hair and perfecting her little emo outfit. Cute, she hopped on the bus and had a relatively average day at school. I do happen to enjoy how she grabs her boyfriend, though, to kiss him instead of letting him kiss her.
Bold, she took the stage by the time she got hope. She was witty, even making me laugh a handful of times. I watched as she stormed through downtown, quick and assertive. With her whirlwind decisions, the hot afternoon seemed to zoom by.
She lost her cell phone. That struck a note, but not as much as her climax.
There she was, just peaceful and regular, when she suddenly starts rambling to herself. About how she's nothing. About how she could be more. Then she begins addressing ME - as if she knew I was there. I confirmed she was insane when she tore out the front door and her white socked feet pounded her away down the sidewalk. Her screams echoed behind her.
A storm, of course, was brewing. Far too curious to stay behind, I followed at a weary distance. Her actions did not recieve calm responses from her neighbors - the weary townies tossed beer cans and muttered curses, flinging open windows and telling her to go home, that it was fucking raining, that she was annoying. But she continued storming the sidewalk until satisfied. She was fire fast and tore the grass up underneath her. Behind a flaring lightening sky, it was all sort of magical.
Now sitting near here in a deep, dark basement, I see that she has a flaring flame within her. I'm actually interested as she types away her poetry and scrawls out her stories, and now that I see that she makes her life into something - something worth watching.
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