Main Cabin Daily: 9/1/22

Song: Easy on me by Adele
Line: You can't deny how hard I tried
Note: Yes, I'm fully aware this is terrible. This DOES NOT refer to real life.
Words: 300
Deny

Maybe you would deny your love,
Going after some new girls now,
But you can't deny that I still love you,
No matter how many doors you slammed,
No matter how many times you declined my call,
The love inside will still shine.

Deny it, I know you would,
Deny it, It's what you'll do,
But you can't deny,
The fact I still love you.

You ran away, saying you never loved me,
But you can't say I still don't love you,
Because you want to deny,
But you can't deny the truth.

Deny it, I know you would,
Deny it, It's what you'll do,
But you can't deny,
The fact I still love you.

Maybe you don't remember,
The times before you saw her,
I'm here to remind you,
That her shine was once mine.

Deny it, I know you would,
Deny it, It's what you'll do,
But you can't deny,
The fact I still love you.

I tried so hard,
But you left me,
I tried my hardest,
But still it wasn't enough.

Deny it, I know you would,
Deny it, It's what you'll do,
But you can't deny,
The fact I still love you.

You knew I tried,
You knew I loved,
You knew I won't deny,
You knew about all this,
But you still deny.

Deny it, I know you would,
Deny it, It's what you'll do,
But you can't deny,
The fact I still love you.

Tell me you deny,
You can't change my mind,
Tell me you have new love,
You can't remind me more.

Deny it, I know you would,
Deny it, It's what you'll do,
But you can't deny,
The fact I still love you.

You can deny it,
But I never will,
Never stopped loving you,
But you stopped loving me.

See you again how can we not talk about family when family is all we got
Need 2 people to sing
Words 304

family is help.
We will never lose each other
After a friend it is hard to forget
You will never forget
But rely
Rely on your family
Talk about family
It Is all you got

when we are lost
Only have family
If it is all you got
Remember Remember
you can talk
You will not be judged
But if you are
Remember Remember
Everyone has different experiences
Remember

family is help.
We will never lose each other
After a friend it is hard to forget
You will never forget
But rely
Rely on your family
Talk about family
It Is all you got

we are
All alone
But then you Remember
You Remember
That you have family and friends
It is all you got but they are there
For you no matter what
Family and friends when you get separated
It is hard

family is help.
We will never lose each other
After a friend it is hard to forget
You will never forget
But rely
Rely on your family
Talk about family
It Is all you got


Split
One half
when we are lost
Only have family
If it is all you got
Remember Remember
you can talk
You will not be judged
But if you are
Remember Remember
Everyone has different experiences
Remember
Other half

we are
All alone
But then you Remember
You Remember
That you have family and friends
It is all you got but they are there
For you no matter what
Family and friends when you get separated
It is hard

“Look at what I could’ve been! Look at me! Or can’t you even bare to take a glance at what you’ve destructed? Tell me! And tell me the truth!”
“You’re being dramatic. Look, things happen all the time. People let go of each other. I’ve let go of you, why can’t you just let go of me? What’s your problem? Please, I know you know something’s wrong with you. It’s so obvious, the sight of it is almost blinding me!”
I cannot believe the words he is saying. What is he even talking about? He seems to think that I am a complete and utter failure. But if anyone is a failure, it’s him. If he had just been a little less careless, a little less of a horrible person, we could’ve had everything. We could’ve had a castle. Our parents loved us so, so, so much. They loved that we loved each other, and they would’ve done anything to continue seeing that. It’s so sad to know that they will enver get the grandchildren they wanted now, only a sad little version of them, maybe in the near future, maybe not. We had everything, and he threw everything away. What is his problem?

“I think you’re the failure here! I think something’s inherently wrong with you!” I scream at the top of my lungs, finally allowing myself to let it all out. What is wrong with him. Does HE THINK he can just go strutting around, doing that kind of behanviour with no consequences? Honestly, what in the heavens? What a spoiled little brat. What a little heart breaker. Does he like breaking other people’s hearts? Because he certainly broke mine and he seemed to like it very much. I can’t believe he finds it fun to ruin others lives.

Huff Cabin Daily
01/09/2022
Write about someone who’s lived in a bunker their whole life, and then finally gets to see the sun.

Twelve year old Emily Green was absentmindedly flipping through the pages of one of her books, even though she had already read it many times before. Finding herself quickly bored with the book, she looked around the room. As usual, nothing much to look at. Her whole family (Which was herself, her mom, her dad, her older brother Johnathan who was sixteen, and her little sister Nina who was nine) lived inside of a bunker that was underneath their house.
She and her family had moved underground nearly eight year ago, after there were warnings of a nuclear attack. The Government had said that scientists predicted it wouldn’t be safe to live above ground until at least fifteen years after the attack. The attack had happened when Emily was just four. Her sister had been just a baby, only one year old. Her brother had been eight at the time.
Emily only remembered bits and pieces of that day. She remembered the sirens blaring, warning all citizens to get to their bunkers for safety. And reminding them that the land would be uninhabitable for at least fifteen years and that people shouldn’t leave their bunkers until at least that much time had passed. And even then, to be careful when going above the surface for the first time.
So for the past eight years, Emily and her family had been living underground. Luckily, her parents had listened when the warning had first come out nearly a year before the attack actually happened and began building a bunker and stocking it. And so their bunker was stocked with enough food and water for at least twenty years (Her parents liked to be prepared.)
There wasn’t much in the bunker. There were four beds, an old crib that they had used when Nina was a baby, a table with five chairs, a small camping stove, shelves that were stocked with food and water, and then some more shelves that were stocked with books and toys and games to keep them all entertained. The family also had a battery powered radio that would sometimes play old stations, however usually there was nothing but static. Over the years her family had been careful to always keep track of the days so that they would know when it was safe to go outside.
Quite honestly, Emily couldn’t wait for the day to come when she could finally go above ground! She didn’t remember much about it since she was so little when she and her family moved underground. But there were still at least seven years before the land above would be inhabitable for humans. She would be nineteen by the time she went up there. But she was sure that it would all be worth the wait.
***
Seven years later. Emily and her family were still in the bunker. She was now nineteen. Nina was sixteen. And Johnathan was twenty three. It had officially been fifteen years, five months, four weeks, and three days since the attack. And today was the day that Emily’s parents had finally agreed that everyone could leave the bunker and see what had become of the world. Honestly, Emily was a bit nervous about what she might see… But she was also extremely excited!
Her parents went first, and opened the hatch at the top of the ladder that sat in one of the corners of the bunker. Then Johnathan went up, then Nina. And finally, Emily climbed up the ladder, just like she’d dreamed about so many times. And when she poked her head out, she found herself nearly blinded by the bright light that she found. The sun! She remembered the sun, how warm and bright it was.
After her eyes had adjusted, she looked around. She saw ruined buildings, but there were still trees and grass and flowers all around her. And as she looked around she saw that some of her neighbors and old friends had also emerged from their bunkers.
As Emily looked around, she smiled. She knew that it would be years before her neighborhood and her city was the same as it had been when she was four. But she knew that in time, with everyone helping. Eventually, things would return to normal. And she would be able to live the life that she had imagined for herself so many times in that bunker.

(732 Words!)

Huff Cabin Daily
01/10/2022
Journal about your experience with JWC so far!
(312 Words)

So far, my experience leading Huff Cabin for JWC has been amazing! When I signed up, I actually never expected that I would get to be the leader of a cabin! Originally, I signed up as a camper for Huff Cabin because I absolutely LOVE the Dystopian genre and I thought this would be a really fun way to improve my writing in that genre! Then, about a week after I had been accepted as a camper, Dawn messaged me and she said that the Huff Cabin leader had dropped out of JWC, and that they were looking for a new leader! She asked if I would be interested in leading Huff Cabin for this session and I said “Of course!”
Honestly, I’m really glad that I said yes to being the leader of Huff Cabin, it’s been a wonderful experience so far and all of my campers have been so amazing! My fellow leaders as well! I feel like by the end of this I’ll probably have some new friends that I met here and I’m really happy that I got this opportunity! Leading this cabin has been a lot of fun so far, and it’s also helped me grow! I have responsibilities during this session that a camper obviously doesn’t have! Like creating the weeklies and dailies for my cabin, and changing them every day/week. I really hope that I’m doing a good job and making this an enjoyable experience for my campers!
Also, through this session so far, I’ve already learned some new things! For example, the second main cabin weekly is all about using imagery in your writing, something that I don’t know a lot about and that I could definitely use some improvement on! I think this is a really awesome and fun way to learn new things while also making some friends along the way!

Daily January 11

Sitting next to me right now is a lined, A4 notebook. I think notebooks are hugely important to daily life, because you can write stuff down in any notebook, as long as it’s not full. Even then, sometimes there’s a corner of free space where you can scribble notes. Think about it - if you have a phone with you, unless it’s specifically your phone, you won’t be able to do anything with it, but notebooks are free for anybody to use. Unless it’s the kind that you can put padlocks on, in which case it might be trickier - but those locks are pretty easy to pick anyway!

Also, notebooks are easier to use than loose sheets of paper, especially if there’s not a desk or flat surface near you. And you can always flip back through the pages and look at things you’ve done previously, which you can’t do if you always use individual sheets of paper. Personally, I often like to flip back through my notebooks, even old ones I don’t use anymore because they’re full, to see what I wrote in them when I was younger. A lot of the time it can be embarrassing, but more often it’s really interesting to see the way I thought!

11th MC Daily
Pick a nearby object and explain why its important
Okkkkk I should really sleep now lol
226 words

In this room lay about a million different things. All different objects, all fragments of clutter contributing to the odd and slightly generic atmosphere of my room. But in this small space, to the side of my quilt covered bed, with it's back directly to my wooden set of drawers piled high with books, stands one of the most important objects of all. The electric fan. It stands taller than anything surrounding, towering over my bedside table and half empty washing basket. Perhaps it's height signifies it's importance, its vital role in every day life. The fact that it reaches higher than any other object must mean something. Perhaps the fan is just snobby and superficial, simply showing off, but I don't think so. It has proven time and time again of it's worth, to the point where I could never even begin to doubt its importance again. When the heat waves hit, and I am left in the lonely solitude of summer, the fan and the cool air from its spin are what keep me company. When I am overloaded, at a loss of what to do, its steady buzz provides a constant for me to focus on in the chaos, an everlasting rotation of its wings. That's why the fan is so important to me. It's more than just an object- it's a friend.

Main Cabin Daily
01/11/2022
258 words for Huff Cabin

The first thing that I saw when I looked around was my phone, so I guess that I’ll talk about that. I think that a phone is pretty important to daily life, especially in this day and age. With your phone you can connect with your friends via text message and phone or video calls, and during the pandemic when we couldn’t see each other in person, having a phone was really helpful because I could talk to my friends with my phone. I personally also use my phone for my small dog-sitting business to contact my clients and I have the Venmo app so that they can pay me online, which is usually more convenient for both me and my customers.
And with my phone, when I have a question and I don’t have immediate access to my computer, I can look up my question on Google and get a quick answer to almost every question that I have. A phone is also really important to me when I go out with my friends on my own. When I have a phone with me when me and my friends are at the mall or when I’m swimming at my friends pool, I know that if I need help, or I get separated, or there’s something that’s making me uncomfortable for any reason I can use my phone to call my parents or someone else to help me out.
And those are the reasons why I think the phone is important to daily life in the twenty-first century.

The Many Takes of Autumn Leaves
Continuously and cyclically, original pieces of art consistently follow a certain trend of having a slew of copies following their creation. Perhaps many centuries ago this trend was not as obvious as it is today – after all nobody was going to be able to copy a Van Gogh exactly stroke for stroke. However, now with the rise of digital recordings, images, recipes, videos, internet, and new technologies that allow for the mass producing of millions of frighteningly accurate copies of a single piece of art; it is blatantly obvious that copies have become a fundamental ripple effect of almost every novel creation. While some may claim that an original piece of art continues to keep a higher value in a world of copies, if the trend of original art causing the production of many copies continues then it would serve well for the value of the original and its copies to be re-evaluated. In today’s world of copies, original art has lost its value and become a muse to further inspire more copies and further creation while copies preserve the original art and go through so many iterations that they often can result in a completely new take or perspective of the original piece creating a constant cycle between original pieces and their copies.


While museums and art enthusiasts alike may claim that the original piece of art has a certain special sheen to it simply by being the original, the many different copies and iterations that are produced of an original piece of art have made the original’s purpose mainly to serve as inspiration for copies to be made. In fact, Edward Robinson, the curator of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York wrote that had envisioned his museum as, “a gallery in which children could grow up familiar with the noblest productions of Greece and Italy, in which the laborer could pass some of his holiday hours, and in which the mechanic could find the stimulus to make his own work beautiful as well as good” (Provan 329). The purpose of the art in the museum was and continues to be to inspire the receiver of the art and to encourage them to make art of their own including their very own copy of the work of art. Some may claim, Robinson was not including creating copies of art in his definition of having a receiver of the art “make his own work” however, the Mets museum at the time was mainly compromised of plaster casts inspired by other pieces of art across different parts of the world along with its completely original pieces (Provan 329). It would not be too far of a stretch to assume that Robinson would have included the idea of people making copies of the pieces in his gallery as the type of beautiful work that he hoped to inspire through the art in his gallery.


While originals may serve as inspiration for the creation of copies, copies also serve as an act of preservation and exaltation of the original. Alexander Provan, an editor of Triple Canopy, an online magazine about art and literature, notes, “An object uncopied is under perpetual siege, valued less for itself than for the struggle to prevent its being copied” (Provan 330). When an original piece of art is not copied it is put at risk of being destroyed or worse completely forgotten. Through it’s copies original pieces of art are preserved for the future allowing symbols of great history to still be captured in a physical or digital form. A great example of this form of preservation is King Uthal’s statue which despite being destroyed in an ISIS propaganda video was reconstituted using a 3D model copy made with some of technology’s newest innovations (Provan 336).

Though copies can serve as perfect replicas of the original art they can also function as new takes or spins on the piece with modifications. When making copies of art the artists don’t need to replicate the piece pixel by pixel or note by note instead, they can modify and, “assign their own significance to the work and put it to their own uses" (Provan 337). As time goes on great pieces of art continue to get reshaped and remade and copied in many different ways that allow the original piece to almost evolve in its environment. Yo-Yo Ma, a world-renowned musician believes that in order to have innovation in a culture that culture must find empathy through art (Ma 279). To copy art is to try to know it and understand the complex emotions and feelings transmitted through a common shared sense of empathy between people. And since empathy is a fundamental and necessary part of any innovation it makes sense that copy often leads to innovation and an artist’s own repertoire of originality. Ma highlights this in his own essay, Necessary Edges: Arts, Empathy, and Education when he writes of the story of how the, “slow, sensual dance,” called the sarabande originated in North Africa had been copied and spread across cultures with, “Each culture the music, investing it with specific meaning,” and eventually the slow dance from Africa would be played by Bach as a whole movement for cellos. This copying from Bach would preserve the piece long enough for modern day musicians like Yo-Yo Ma to still be playing the piece.

The copying and spread of original art leads to more originality and innovation. Autumn Leaves, a Jazz standard, is a prime example of this cyclical process that art undertakes. The first original Autumn Leaves was a very somber composition written in French with lyrics that seemed to allude to death and the music was not a strong part of the composition as it was more focused on the poetry itself. Then when the first fully instrumental version of the piece was made the song took a very slightly brighter tone and more musical and dramatic focus. Once the lyrics were translated to English musicians like Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole gave the tune a try. By then the composition only partially resembled its original with lyrics that gave the song a more wistful and nostalgic feeling of a summer love forgotten in autumn and the instruments playing more whimsical phrases to try emulating the magic of love. Eventually, tons of different musicians would try to cover Autumn Leaves each time giving it their own little spin leading to more than 1400 different jazz only version recordings of the song to exist (CRJ). There are so many different iterations of the same song that many do not even sound at all like the original Autumn Leaves to the untrained ear to the point that these copies almost exist as a completely new original piece on their own.

The value of original art is to be further copied, to continue to perpetuate the cycle of the copies eventually becoming their own original art only to inspire even more creation and copying. Original art that is copied remains preserved is and allowed to continue to grow and evolve wherever it is planted meanwhile, by not copying original art the original piece runs the risk of losing its legacy by selfishly hoarding its artistic potential all to itself.

13th Main Daily
Crazy creature creation! xD
445 words (got a bit carried away xD)

Do you ever feel scared when you’re swimming? Like a fin may pop out of the water out any moment, followed by a sleek body of grey, elegantly gliding through the water, spreading danger wherever it goes. That impending sense of fear is certainly not unfounded, but it is in fact misplaced. This is because it will not be, and it has never been, the sharks that will hurt you. Or even any other generic sea creature that will hurt you, for that matter. It will instead be… the Girappo.

The Girappo is a strange creature, the product of many generations of cross breeding between the unlikely species of hippos and giraffes, which seem to have evolved over time to become compatible in mating. Similar to a hippo, it has a stocky body with grey coloured skin, tinged with a bit of yellow from the giraffe genetics. One major difference is that the skin is not one solid colour like the usual hippopotamus, instead it is covered in brown spots of varying shapes and sizes comparable to paint splotches. It resides mostly in water and swampland, as you would probably expect, sometimes venturing out onto land for a change in appetite from the marine food to a more giraffe-like meal consisting of tree leaves and other plants.

The Girappo has the exact head of a hippopotamus, with the exception of the addition of giraffe ears at the back of the skull. The facial structure of the head remains the same as the hippo, including the mouth and teeth which are used at times to capture prey when hunting. Deep set in the top of the head are a pair of black beady eyes, situated high on the creature’s frame so that they can poke out of the water discreetly when hunting in waters and swamps, so as not to alert the prey of it’s incoming doom.

However, all the components of the giraffe and the hippopotamus that make up this new creature listed so far in the text, are simply minor in comparison to this last element. The Girappo’s body and head structure are both almost identical to the original hippo species, but the thing joining them together is most definitely not. The creature’s neck can measure anywhere from 80 to 120 centimetres long, a slightly shorter version of the typical giraffe’s neck. This adaptation allows the Girappo to swim deeper in the water instead of just on the surface, giving it a wider range to hunt for prey, and also to reach taller plants for food on land. This unique feature is what makes the Girappo, the Girappo – the magnificent creature it truly is.

Main Cabin Daily
01/13/2022
356 Words

I decided to create a combination of two amazing creatures! The cat…. And the majestic…. Turtle. And for lack of a better name. I am calling it…. The Caturtle. The Caturtle is a creature that has the shell of a turtle stuck on the back of a cat. Which, now that I think about it, the Caturtle sounds kind of weird and a little bit creepy. But oh well! I’m sticking to my Caturtle!
The Caturtle is a creature that can live on both land and in water, however due to the fact that the animal is half cat, the Caturtle usually prefers to stay on land whenever possible. The natural habitat of this fine creature is basically any kind of beach or river area. However, Caturtles can also be found wandering around suburban neighborhoods across the United States.
It is very difficult, nearly impossible, to domesticate the Caturtle and it is not advised to try and keep a Caturtle as a pet seeing as they need to live in a semi-controlled environment where they can always have access to water. So, the only domesticated Caturtles on record to date are the ones kept in zoos all over the country.
Another reason that Caturtles are difficult to domesticate is because they are also very sociable creatures and they need to be with others of their kind, otherwise they start to get sad and unhappy. So a pet owner would have to own two or more Caturtles to keep them happy.
In the wild, Caturtles live in small groups called “Cauldrons” and they hardly ever separate from each other. And when Caturtles are born, their mother stays with them well into adulthood, unlike many other kinds of animal parents.
The Caturtle was first discovered on a Florida beach several years ago by some curious beach goers who were there on vacation! They were of course shocked to see such a wonderful creature in the wild and one of the children shared a picture online. This picture then caught the attention of local scientists when it went viral! And that is how the Caturtle was discovered and named.

Daily - January 14

Dear Anne,

I’m sorry for constantly putting you in these awful situations just for the sake of my own plot. I hope I at least somewhat make up for it by the supportive people I surround you with, but even then sometimes they do betray you to propel the narrative forward.

I hope that you’re living the life of your dreams, maybe not quite what you always imagined your life being like, but you’ve had several epiphany moments over the course of my story, so even if what you have right now isn’t the perfect fantasy you had maybe five years ago, I hope you’re happy, and I hope you’re healing from… well, everything, I guess.

I’m sorry that practically none of my other characters trust you. It’s just the way that it went, I suppose: in my mind all of you have minds of your own, and if it were up to me, you would have more support than just one person who trusts you unconditionally. People who read what I write say that you should have dragged her down with you: they think if she’s willing to follow you and be on your side no matter what, then you should have corrupted her and turned her evil.

I don’t think you would do that, though. I think if something like that happened, you’d spend the rest of your life regretting it. You already regret all the times you’ve turned evil before - you always change your mind eventually, you always turn around and do the right thing, and you always spend the next couple of months fully hating yourself for everything you’ve done. And the thing is that all you ever wanted was love and affection. And you thought being a villain was more likely to give you that than being a hero.

You were wrong, of course. But it’s okay. After all, so many of the people who’ve hurt you claimed to be good. While trying to kill you, they claimed that it was for the greater good. And you know that isn’t true, you know that it isn’t always as clear-cut as that. You know sometimes evil masquerades as good and good can be hidden under several layers of self-defense.

It’s just a pity not everybody around you has had those same realizations.

Love, your author.

Weekly 2

Part One (133 words)


Visual

The bright rays of sunlight filtered through her drapes, flooding the room with light.

The light sparkled off the multicolored pebbles, sending rainbow beams in every direction.


Auditory

The sound of Zoe's gum popping broke though the deafening silence, causing everyone to freeze.

The engines roared to life, drowning out whatever Sarah was saying.


Olfactory

She opened the oven and the delicious smell of fresh baked cookies filled the air.

Sarah wrinkled her nose when the putrid smell reached her nostrils.


Gustatory

“Mmm,” she popped a grape in her mouth, the sweet flavor exploding across her tongue.

A cotton candy was like eating a delicious, sweet cloud.


Tactile

Her fingers closed around the smooth, cold metal.

She fingered the soft petal, then pierced it with her thumbnail.

Main Cabin Daily
01/14/2022
369 Words!

Dear Piper,
Firs toff, I guess I want to start this off by apologizing for putting you through so much throughout your two books. Mostly just to move forward with my plot points. But I want you to know that even though I haven’t finished your story and right now everything seems pretty bad (Because at this point it is) but I promise that by the end of your story things will get better. I have a plan for your future that I think you’re really going to enjoy.
Another thing that I want to say is that, I’m sorry for making you have so many issues with trauma and trust and things like that. I guess I didn’t realize how bad of a backstory I gave you until I read back through the first book that I used you in.
But I really hope that you feel like you have had good parts of your life, even if the main parts of the story that you’re in haven’t exactly been the best. I did start that collection of one shots that I hope have made your life a little bit better by putting you into some happier situations that I hope you can enjoy.
I also want you to know that you are appreciated by me and my best friend who are very invested in everything about your story. And also, that I do feel bad when I make really bad things happen. I know that doesn’t really make up for the fact that I did those things in the first place, but I really do try to give you an equal balance of good and bad things in your life.
I also hope that you like the friends that I chose to give you. I know that really, you don’t have a choice in your friends since I’m writing your story. But I sincerely hope that you are happy sometimes. I don’t think that I could be very happy with myself if you were miserable all the time with no relief.
I hope that after I’m finished with your stories that you can continue on and have a good life with your family!

Love your author,
Ash

14th Daily
Write a letter to a character of yours
391 words

Dear Wednesday,

I know that you are just discovering who you are as a person at the same time as I am discoveringavout all your quirks, habits and personality traits, but can I just say that I love who you are becoming so far? All your flaws and all scars make you a person with a such a heavy amount of depth, a beautiful backstory that plays into the person you are today. Your mind is so fascinating and unique, it certainly much more intriguing than mine. At least, it intrigues me- so much so that I wish I could sit down with you one late autumn evening, in your delicate little log cabin in the woods, and have an intricate discussion whose topic is you and you only, and your story, told by you and not me this time. I feel kind of guilty that I am constantly taking the words out of your mouth, telling your story for you when really only you can describe it is it truly is. I wish that just once, you could get the chance to tell me about it all yourself.

If we ever do end up having that conversation, I've got some things I would like to say as well. I think I would start by saying how genuinely sorry I am for everything I have put you through. It's very unfortunate that I like characters with tragic backstories, and I just happened to take that habit of forming them out on you. I would say, “oh, but look how strong all of that in your past made you now!” but I'm not going to, because I know how invalidating that is. I know, realistically, that you are not stronger now. You're the opposite- you're weaker, but you just hide it better. And well, that just makes me want to cry.

So I'll apologise, even though I know no apology will ever take away the trauma. But besides saying how sorry I am, can I just say how proud I am too? Just look at the person you've become. You astound me. You are this incredible, talented, phenomenal human being whose existence is so beautiful that it almost seems impossible.

Thank you. You have helped me find myself more than I ever helped you find you.

From,
you know my name already.

Daily 15. Journaling, I guess. 400 WORDS EXACTLY I'M SATISFIED

I've never tried journaling before, so this is going to be new. I guess I need to write about my writing and life. So, here goes nothing.
Well, how do I feel about my writing? Mostly embarrassed, really, in school. I don't know why I feel different sharing y writing online - I'm less embarrassed? Probably because I don't know who these people are - at least not personally. If I got the opportunity to meet them would it be different? I have no idea. Most of my writing starts off strongly and then I forget or procrastinate on it for one reason or another.
One of my favourite forms of writing is fanfiction. I'm writing it for myself and the community - so I'm less embarrassed about it. I don't really know. I often feel great at the start but then I stop because of the storyline or whatever. I find it hard to come up with ideas when I'm writing, so…

I guess I should move on to my life. My life is going pretty well right now. Apart from a few instances of “I FORGOT TO DO MY HOMEWORK I'M SO SORRY” it's been pretty good. But I also have my GCSE options coming up this year. I've already decided on four of my options and I'm fighting for which one wants to me my fifth choice. All I know is that my friends say I've probably taken too many humanities. Whoops. Anyway. I tried to go for options I wanted to do rather than options I don't want to do. But the, we're basically forced on with triple science (Chemistry, physics, biology) and I know I'm not that bad at science so I can't take Combined Science (Which would count for 2 of my GCSEs? I'm not sure) and I'm forced to do English and Maths. I need those to get into sixth form anyway - so I do need to try and work on it.

In other parts of life, Scratch Life, I guess.
I finally got around to stuff for a voice acting MAP, got a few things off my to-do list but still need to do two MAP parts. Look at me, procrastinating :3. Why' I don't know. I'm just so overloaded with Camps to plan and run, and oh. gosh.
I need a break.

I guess that's it for this journal. See you sometime soon. Bye.

Week Two (January 9th - 16th)
MAIN CABIN WEEKLY #2
YES! I DID IT! 3 HOURS BEFORE IT'S DUE!

PART ONE:
I decided to do option two of this part of the weekly and journal about my previous use with imagery and what I like to use it for. So off we go!
I learned about imagery a couple of years ago in my first year of middle school Language Arts, in sixth grade. I remember that I understood the usage of imagery pretty naturally; as I do with most Language Arts subjects. (Not trying to brag… Sorry if it came across that way) However, when it came to actually implementing imagery into my writing, I was having trouble putting it into places where it fit, sounded good and also didn’t sound forced. It took me about a year and a half to be able to do it fairly decently. And even now, I sometimes struggle when I’m required to put imagery into my writing. For some reason, I find them easier to use when I’m not required to do it though.
As for my favorite senses to write about, it’s kind of a tough question! I really like to write very descriptive scenes so I guess I could say that using visual descriptive imagery is my favorite! However, I also really like describing the things that my characters can feel as well as see. So I think that my favorite is a tie between sight and touch.
Now, do I think that I write imagery well? That’s also kind of a tough question because of course my first instinct is to say of course I write well! But, I don’t think that’s true in the case of imagery. I think that I could definitely improve my writing in this area, but I also don’t think that I’m completely horrible at it! I think that I can write it decently in a way that people do understand what I’m trying to convey when I write using imagery. But I don’t think that my writing is the best ever example of imagery. Especially as I tend to use the same words when describing a certain sense. Like I always use the same words for when my characters see something or hear something. That’s definitely something that I want to work on in the future to improve my use of imagery in my writing!
(381 Words)

PART TWO:
The two senses that I chose to focus on here were visual (sight) and tactile (touch)
I walked through the city, staring at all of the pristine, gleaming white buildings as I walked. As I walked, there was a slightly conscious part of my brain that was focused on all of the elements of my disguise. The slight itch of the threadbare black fabric rubbing on my skin as I walked; and the tiny wobble of the wig of dirty-blond-colored hair, resting on top of my real hair to conceal my identity from those who wish to harm me. The government being my main concern of course. As it was for all citizens.
As I walked, I was also constantly aware of my crossbody bag bouncing against my hip as I walked. In the main part of the bag that one could see there were some normal things; a fake ID card should I be stopped, some crisp, flaky bread as a snack, a clean notepad, and some pencils that were sharpened to perfection. Of course, that’s not all I was carrying. In a small, hidden, sewn inside compartment I had small slips of paper. Carefully and neatly written on these slips of paper, were several addresses that the Resistance used as “Libraries” of sorts. Places that had secret compartments or hidden rooms that the resistance filled to the brim with books. New and old, worn and shiny, fiction and nonfiction. Anything that you could imagine, we have a book for it.
I was going to deliver these slips of paper to our couriers. The couriers were the ones who delivered books to the public. The brave boys and girls were risking their lives every day. And the Resistance was ever grateful for their actions.
As I walked, I couldn’t help but run my hands across the smooth, bright white walls of the buildings I was passing; I loved the cool feel of the smooth surface. The surface in the Resistance’s underground headquarters was anything BUT smooth. I knew that I probably looked a bit odd, but I couldn’t help it! I hadn’t been outside in a very long time. Our leader thought I was too valuable, since I used to work for the Government. It had taken a lot of convincing before she allowed me to take on this job that was usually reserved for the younger children, as it was quite simple and there was a low chance of them being caught, or even having to talk to anyone other than the couriers. But since it got me outside headquarters, I was glad to take it!
As I came up to the neighborhood where the first courier lived, I discreetly checked the last page in my notebook, double checking the address. The houses were all identical, they had the same white colored walls, the same brick roofing, the same brown doors. It was a little scary honestly. Since they all looked identical, I checked the address because, you know, I didn’t want to knock on the wrong house…. That would be awkward… And potentially dangerous. Once I found the house, I looked around and made sure that nobody was around and watching me. Once I was certain that there was nobody around. I knocked on the door and waited for the courier to open the door.
It only took about two, maybe three minutes, for the courier (Her name is Madalyn) to open the door and when she did, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Madalyn immediately closed the curtains in her living room and locked the door.
“You have the new addresses?” Madalyn asked
“Yes. Right here.” I answered, opening my bag and reaching into the “secret” part of my bag. As I felt around the soft fabric I felt the smooth feel of the paper. I grabbed it and handed the folded up paper to Madalyn.
“Good. Thanks a bunch. You should probably leave before anyone gets suspicious.” I nodded and unlocked the door. Then I walked outside and moved onto the next address on my list.
(668 Words)

PART THREE:
(I’m just going to continue my story from the previous part because I can’t think of anything else original to write about, eheh…. Writer’s block is the best! /j)
After I left Madalyn’s house, I continued on my way to the next courier's house (There were three couriers in total that I needed to visit before the day ended and I had to get back to base so I wasn’t breaking curfew. Because that could get me into some big trouble with you-know-who) The next courier lived about eight blocks from Madalyn’s house so it was only about twentyish minutes away. As I walked I pulled out the bit of bread and cheese that I had brought along. It was nearing two o’clock so it seemed like it was a good time to eat while I was walking. I cracked a piece of the bread and it made a satisfying crunching sound as I did so. Surprisingly, it still smelled like fresh bread (Which is a delicious smell if you didn’t already know that) since it had only been baked in the morning. Still, it seemed like a long time had passed since then. But I wasn’t going to question it. Then I took a bite of food as I turned a corner, savoring the salty taste.
Once I reached the place where the next courier lived, I double checked the address on my sheet of paper and then started walking up and down the row of apartment looking houses to find his home. I looked up at the tall buildings. They were white of course, just like everything in this world. I don’t know why it has to be such a smooth and bright white color though. It always feels so blinding when you look at it for the first time, or if it’s been a while since you went outside like it had been for me. There was also a lot of chatter coming from the back of one of the full-size houses. Sounded like they might have been having some kind of get together. That could potentially be problematic since it was a larger chance of someone who wasn’t supposed to seeing me enter the house.
But my own personal opinions and worries about the color of buildings and get-togethers aside, I finally found the courier's house. But I had to wait for what seemed like ages because I had to wait for one of his neighbors to go inside.
Finally the neighbor went inside and I went up to Nathan’s (The courier) door and grabbed the smooth metal door knocker and knocked against the hard brown wood once, twice and three times. Then I waited for him to open the door. When he did, just like I had with Madalyn, I stepped inside the house and closed and locked the door behind me.
“I have the address.” I said simply as I closed the curtains of the front and side windows Nathan had in his house.
“Good. Give it over. You don't want to be here too long. People might find it weird since they’ve never seen you before.” I nodded and pulled the paper out of my pocket inside of my messenger bag and handed it to Nathan. He looked it over and then looked at me incredulously.
“Are you serious? This place is like two and half miles away!” He exclaimed “How am I supposed to justify going there if someone asks!”
“Well I’m sorry!” I yelled back “I don’t pick the locations I just deliver them!” Nathan looked ready to continue arguing with me but I crossed my arms and turned towards the door, opening it and walking out. As I did I turned around and said to the courier “Well I wish you good luck with your HUGE problem. Not like there’s anything bigger to worry about in this day and age.” Then I slammed the dark wood door, hearing the metal door knocker bang against it a couple of times as I walked away.
‘He is absolutely the most insufferable courier I’ve ever met’ I thought, opening my bag and looking at the address of the next courier. She was the last courier I had to visit today, but unfortunately, she lived about a couple of miles away. In the suburban-like neighborhood on the outside of town. I would have to really double and triple check the address for this one. All of the houses in that area of town look exactly the same. The same white, wooden walls with the same brown front doors and same windows with blue shutters. I personally find it to be very creepy. Everything looks the same there. I find it really disturbing and I try not to go there unless I have to. Like today.
As I walked towards the suburb area, I felt my shoe starting to rub uncomfortably against my heel.
‘I need new shoes’ I thought to myself . But of course, that wasn’t going to happen. We barely had enough funds to fund protective measures, much less something as trivial as shoes.
Once I arrived at the suburb area, I felt the regular feeling of uneasiness seeing the identical houses all with perfect lawns and no outside decorations. As I walked, I saw a group of school aged children walking in front of me. They had probably just finished school. As I neared them, I realized that they were singing something. I strained my ears to figure out what it was. I felt my stomach churn as I realized it was something honoring the leader of the city. The very person that everyone in the resistance despised. But I couldn’t blame these kids for it. They were just repeating whatever they heard in school.
Finally I came upon the house of the courier and she was the easiest one yet. She didn’t even have me inside, she just grabbed the address and gave me a quick salute before closing the door. It was over in less than five minutes. And then I was on my way back to base. Hopefully getting back before curfew.
Other than Nathan’s reaction today was a very successful day for the resistance.
(1,007 Words)

Total of 2,056 words

2nd Weekly
Imagery
1687 words


Part 1
194 words
Visual
-The sheep's fur was exactly like a cloud, soft cotton as white as snow.
-Now pristine clear, the window looked almost like a river, a reflection of the room inside appearing perfectly.

Auditory
-The storm has arrived, and slowly, the weather becomes an orchestra, the thrashing of drums of thunder resounding from above.
-The dreamcatcher danced in the breeze, it's feathers whispering to my ears.

Olfactory
-Sweetness overtakes my mouth, the chocolatey fudge of the brownies tasting just like home.
-The air tastes like the sea, the ocean held in the oxygen as I breathe it in and taste it in my tongue.

Gustatory
-The breeze reminds me of the fish and chips from the past, nostalgia taking over my mind, the ocean wind's scent exactly like the salty chips from my childhood.
-Smoke fills the room but somehow it seems to fill my lungs faster and I cough instinctively, tasting the pure bitterness of it on my tongue.

Tactile
-I can almost feel the stories held within the book, flicking through it's rough pages, feeling the dust tickle my nose.
-Enveloping me is a blanket as velvety as the most majestic stage curtains, surrounding me in comfort.


Part 2
674 words
The steady buzz of the car surrounds me, and I know we've started on the road. Excitement fills my bones, but also fear. I've always been slightly scared of the new.

“How long until we're there?” I ask, trying to not seem impatient, and failing. I can hear my mum try to hold back a sigh. She's too nice.

“About an hour and ten minutes. I know it's a long drive but it'll be worth it, sweetie,” she says in a tired tone from the front. Of course, I know she's right. I know it better than anyone. I don't care how long this drive takes- it could take 100 hours and 10 minutes and it would still be worth it. Because at the end of this drive, I'm getting something that will help me for the rest of my life. I'm getting a best friend.

Having said that… this fact does not make the drive any shorter. It's hard to entertain myself, as I can't play I Spy With My Little Eye or any of the other usual car games, but I have ways to keep myself busy. I turn on my phone, pointing it towards my face to unlock the ID. Headphones on, the buzz of the car disappears as a continuous tune fills my ears. It's a beautiful song, one that I don't recognise, but beautiful all the same. It doesn't appear to have lyrics, at least not yet, but it still sounds incredible. The beat reminds me of the ocean, each strike a crash of a wave against the coastline. It's been so long that I've been to the beach, (it's a shame we live so inland) but I can almost feel it all. The crunch of the sand beneath my feet, the contrast of the grainy particles against the cool smoothness of the water tickling my toes at high tide. The air tastes salty on my tongue when I stick it out to feel the light wind coming from my left side. I can tell which side it's coming from by the temperature of my tongue- the side that's the coldest is the side the breeze is blowing. Some people would find this strange, but I don't think I'm strange, just hypersensitive. I can tell the difference between the foam and the normal water when it brushes my feet. The foam arrives first. It feels lighter than the actual water, and slightly more… prickly, I guess? I can feel it disintegrate on my skin and turn to complete liquid in a matter of seconds, coating my feet on water which accentuates the coldness of the breeze which blows on them constantly. Crash crash crash- with each new wave comes a new wash of ocean. Crash crash crash… I am brought back from the sea and into the car with the thump of the beat still filling my headphones. The music is getting repetitive now, and I sigh, tearing off my headphones in impatience. We're still driving.

“How long until we're there yet?”

I can hear my mum hold back a sigh. “It's only been about fifteen minutes honey, so still a while to go, okay?”

I nod, not knowing whether she's looking in the rear view mirror or not. “Can we play I Hear With My Little Ear?”

“Sure honey,” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Do you want to go first?”

“Yes!” I say rather excitedly, glad to have something to distract me from the boredom. “I hear with my little ear… something beginning with… S.”

The word is static, but my mum will never get that. She never has to pay enough attention to sound to notice such a small noise like that, because she can rely on sight instead. But I can't- I'm blind. But maybe, just maybe at the end of this drive, I'll become a little less blind. Because when we arrive, I'm getting a guide dog. A dog- a best friend. Someone to be my set of eyes.


Part 3
I got a bit carried away here lol… the birth was meant to be a short opening scene for a bigger story but yeah haha…
819 words

“It's okay it's okay it's okay! We're gonna be there soon, just hold on!”

“AAAAAAAAAAH!” Her face is held in a permanent grimace, the pain evident in every ounce of her body. “It is not okay!” she half shouts, half whispers, her voice strained so hard it's painful to even listen to.

The Uber driver with the nametag Benjamin in the front pretends not to hear any of this chaos, opting to ignore it completely. Instead, he continues on the road, not even speeding slightly. A bit of an extra boost would probably be appropriate in this situation, but who cares, he can't afford to get a fine, not even for the life of a baby.

In the back, John Smith is at a loss of what to do with his panicking wife. Confused but having the right spirit, he begins to clutch her belly, holding it on the sides as if that will help slow the baby down.

“DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME! GET YOUR STUPID HANDS OFF OF ME! WHAT- WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!?”

“I- I'm sorry,” John tries to stay calm, somehow just managing. “I'm sorry, is there anything I can do honey? Anything?”

“YOU CAN GET ME TO HOSPITAL, YOU IDIOT!” Laury Smith yells in response, screeching like the tires of a car as another contraction set in.

There are several more minutes of screaming and screeching, before the Uber driver finally cuts in. Turning around, with his eyebrows scrunched inwards in visible frustration, he says, “You can get out now, we're here.”

“Oh thank you, thank you,” John mumbles over himself, fumbling in his pocket for his card. Finding it, he scans it in the back of the car above the air conditioning, (thanks to the new implanted transaction method), gives a quick nod and smile to the driver, before grabbing his wife's hand and stumbling outside.

“Oh my god, is the emergency room close??” Laury pants, holding her stomach with one hand while she walks, her other hand clutching John's, her newly done acrylic nails painfully digging into his skin and leaving marks.

“Yes, don't worry honey, we're nearly there, just a few more steps okay, hold onto me yeah?”

“Okay, okay,” Laury tries to breathe deeply but fails miserably, ending up hyperventilating with loud, heavy breaths instead.

Finally, the couple burst into the emergency room door in a panic. The long waiting line seated on the cold, blue lines of chairs all glance up at them simultaneously. John can't help but feel a pinch of embarrassment, but his attention almost immediately turns back to his wife. He turns to the triage nurse. “She's- she's going into labour,” he says, feeling as white as a sheet.

“Yes, I can see that,” the nurse says sarcastically, taking a look at Laury, whose face seems as red as a tomato compared to her sickly pale husband's. “Let's get you a bed,” the nurse says, a more serious tone in her voice this time.

The pair are ushered into the emergency room, and John is greeted by a series of beep beep beep sounds coming from all different directions. The speakers above start to crackle as they're walking. “CODE BLUE, I REPEAT, CODE BLUE. ALL ON CALL EMERGENCY STAFF TO WARD A4, I REPEAT, WARD A4. CODE BLUE. CODE BLUE.” The beeping is faster now. It's all a constant reminder that life can be taken away in a matter of a second, and this fact scares John to the bones. He glances at his wife again, who is gripping his hand so fiercely it's now beginning to bleed slightly. For a moment, he genuinely fears for her. He can remember the last time they were here. He remembers it all. The drive to the hospital, the feeling of being such panicked new to be parents, the chaos among the calmness of the nurses. The familiar beep beep beep. The look of disappointment, of devastation on the doctor's faces as the line turned flat. The baby, hooked up to so many wires and stickers that it's skin was barely even visible. Unmoving. Still. Not having even opened it's eyes.

In a flash, he's back to the now. John shakes his head, forcing himself back to reality. He can't focus on the past when there is a baby to be born.

He's in and out of reality for the next few hours. He tries to stay in the present, but the flashbacks just keep coming and coming. His wife is crying next to him. The nurses are shouting to push. Next thing he knows, there is a baby in front of him.

“Oh my god…” a tear slips down John's face while he's still in the present. He holds Laury's hand, no longer sure if he's the one giving her support, or if it's now the other way around.

“Let's name him Benjamin.”

Main Cabin Daily
For Huff Cabin!
01/17/2022
478 Words

At a first glance, fourteen year old Isadora might seem like the shy quiet girl who sits at the back of the classroom, doesn’t raise her hand, and pretty much just keeps to herself. But if you take the time to get to know her, which unfortunately not many people try to do, then you’ll learn that she’s actually really fun once you do! Outside of school she loves to talk to people and she’s also insanely good at art!
Isadora has honey colored skin and straight black hair that’s pretty thick. She usually keeps her hair tied in a braid or a bun on top of her head as she doesn’t really like having her hair in her face. She’s fairly lean with some noticeable curves. But she doesn’t really care much about how she looks or how other people think she looks in that sense.
On a typical day, Isadora usually dresses in jeans and a nice t-shirt. She’ll sometimes wear crop tops, but usually she prefers to wear a full size shirt. She also really likes denim overalls, so sometimes she’ll wear some of those as well. When she needs to be a bit more formal, for church or for another event that requires her to dress up a bit more than usual, she’ll wear one of her few dresses. Most of the dresses reach a little past her knees and are mostly a solid color. She doesn’t like wearing dresses all that much, but she will when she has to.
Isadora lives in San Francisco, California with her parents and her two younger sisters. Her sisters are named Katie and Amiyah and they are eight and eleven. She is a freshman in High School, and she does fairly well in school. Not a complete genius, but smart enough to get good grades in her core subjects. And of course, she excels at art. Her other favorite subject is English (Or Language Arts, whatever you want to call it), which she does fairly well in as well.
Isadora doesn’t have many friends, mostly because people tend to overlook her since she normally sits near the back of the classroom and doesn’t contribute much in mainy of her classes. However, she does have one very good friend. Her best friend, named Caroline! Caroline and Isadora have been friends since the start of middle school, sixth grade, and they do pretty much everything together. Unfortunately, most of Isadora's other classmates don’t really want to put in the effort to get to know her since she seems so shy.
However, Isadora’s okay with that. She doesn’t feel the need to be the “popular girl” in school who has a bunch of friends who only really like her because she’s popular. She’s good with just having one or maybe two friends who like her because of who she is!

18th Daily
Character Outline
322 words

Tory
Tory has a classic snobbish personality. He is a very political person, with some controversial conservative views that he sometimes likes to share with the wrong people. But even if it weren't for the politics, he would still be considered… dislike-able by the majority of people. His inconsideration for others is probably what brings him down the most. He loves to do whatever he wants with no concern for how it effects anyone else.

His favourite thing to do in the whole world wide world is go to Beverly Hills and spend all his dad's money there. All he has to do is make a click of his fingers and his parents come running. “Oh, what do you want darling?” his mother dotes over him, her kindness sickly overwhelming for her 25 year old son. “Oh, could you get my laundry done for me?” he'd say in reply, or, “Can you tell the chef to make me some brownies?” or more often than not, “can you get dear old Dad for me, please?” To which his mother would respond, “Yes! Yes, of course my sweetheart!” to all of them.

When his dad comes, it was a different story though. There is no questioning in this stage of spoiling. The dad already knows what his son Tory could ever possibly want… money. And so that's what he gets given. Hundred dollar Bill's handed to him on a silver plate.

Before ever even thinking of going to Beverly Hills though, Tory must first think of his appearance. That is the most important thing in life, after all. First, he gels back his hair with so much gel that he somewhat resembles Draco Malfoy. Rarely seen without a suit, he picks on if the many different pre-ironed, pre-matched tuxedos from his walk-in wardrobe. Then, for a final touch, he puts in his blue contact lenses because gosh, who would he be with brown eyes?