Jb Knows

A Teen Writer’s Trip to the Top

ImPROPer October 27, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — samke23 @ 9:31 pm
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I always end up with the handcuffs.

A simple sentence, sure to catch the readers attention. Even more sure when the ‘reader’ is someone randomly walking by. Especially so when that someone is your teacher.

When surrounded by thespians, a writer needs to do surprisingly little to blend in. Just write (and act out) a scene no holds barred. I’m talking about a scene of lust and murder. A scene where not only do you have to come on to your superior, but then commit some act of violence, whereas you are forced to throw yourself onto the ground.

I’ve joined in with catcalls as others changed outerwear for their characters. I’ve put on, removed and made many jokes about a pair of handcuffs. I’ve turned on lights, napped on couches and have climbed through windows on stage. Basically, I have become a drama kid.

What is the point of assimilating to the crowd? First off, it allows you to be an extra in so many more scenes. Secondly, it brings you closer to the class clown, the favorite, the beautiful. I have one person in mind. Not only is he an actor, but I see him as a respectable writer. I am not saying I have a crush on this person. No, that would not be the accurate categorization. It’s more of a casual, weird interested in said individual. And as to quote him (as I made a comment about his body, once again only to fit in) “Whoa, I’ve known you since fourth grade.”

 

If you can’t meet a deadline…

Filed under: Uncategorized — samke23 @ 4:11 pm
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No, I do not pay attention in English. I’ll admit to it. But that is not the reason I am currently failing. I’m failing because time is my worst enemy.

My teacher does not accept late work. For the most part, I understand this and I respect it. However, when the thing I cannot turn in late is what the teacher is basing the entire first card marking on, I’m going to be ticked. Especially when the project is something a respectable writer should not be doing.

Let me elaborate. Every year, as a student in multiple classes within the language arts department, I am stuck composing a book of poetry, Do not get me wrong, I love writing poetry. I don not even mind being graded solely on how well write, or my ability to stick to a form.

However, in no way do I condone mindless typing and binding of work. Finding picture in magazines (using someone else’s work to show of your originality.) and slapping them onto previously untainted literary art is just not right. Neither is putting a title on every poem, lest ye be marked down for not finishing the assignment. Not every poem can be titled right away. Sometimes it takes day, even weeks to think of a fitting title. So having a student label a poem five minutes after writing it is unjust and agaisnt any sort of writers code.

I do not fail from not doing the work. I do the work, as pointless as I find it. I have it done, just not with me. It was due at the beginning of the hour, as soon as I arrived. Unfortunately, at the time it was siting n my nightstand. I attempted to have my mother drop it off, but it never came.

So don’t call me a slacker. Do not say that I am under protest and wanted this failing grade. Just see it as another attack from time, another victim to the cause.

 

Inspiration October 26, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — samke23 @ 8:19 pm
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Where do I get my inspiration? Life.

Is there anything from my life that I wouldn’t right about, on the ground of it being to personal? Hasn’t happened yet.

Just yesterday I wrote a one act play on how I am cheating on my boyfriend. This is going to be a public piece of writing, as I have to perform it in front of the class. Not only does it bring up the fact that I am cheating, but it also implies that I have a crush on a certain close friend of mine, who just happens to be acting in said play.

I’ve written poems for class (and otherwise) about teachers that I’ve had crushes on.

There’s been many a short story based on a guy who a was obsessed with and constantly psychologically abused me. Heck, that was most of the literary work written in middle school, including those used for certain portions of standardized tests.

So, no, there is nothing that has been left unwritten, not scrutinized by the public eye.

For I am a writer. I can’t help it. If what you’re doing is so horrible that you do not want it written down, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it. I will not censor myself nor my writing for you.

 

Front Porch Poet October 23, 2008

Never was I a front porch poet
enthralled by setting sun
watching cars and people pass
as soon as suppers done.
Nor have I stared hard at the moon
going line by line
waiting for inspiration
a falling leaf to catch my eye.
The reason being simply
I cannot stand the crowd
a silent passer’s curiosity
at once becomes so loud.
A raised brow, a turning head
my ever rising fear
that my deaf words have fallen
upon a third, unkindly ear.
My writing, it goes quiet
yet not from lack of words
even the most hidden of poets
draw spectators in herds.

This was the first poem that was deemed acceptable by the writing community. And when I see writing community, I of course mean the wonderful folks at About.com’s poetry forum.