Dear Diana Wynne Jones,
I just had to write about how much I love your books. It originally started with Howl's Moving Castle which I bought after I saw the Miyazaki film (which also was wonderful). After that I went crazy and started reading every one of your books I could find. During my 8th grade year in school I read the all the stories of the Chrestomanci series, both Dark Lord of Derkholm and the sequel Year of the Griffin, The Homeward Bounders, the entire Dalemark Quartet, The Merlin Conspiracy, Castle in the Air, Archer's Goon, Dogsbody, Fire and Hemlock, A Tale of Time City, Time of the Ghost, Eight Days of Luke, and Aunt Maria. You were the author that got me interested in the fantasy genre. I love your creativity and your everyday thoughts and humor put in fantastic situations, especially your use of multiple universes in many of your stories and your different types of magic in the Chrestomanci series. I also like your characters, especially the flamboyant Howl and the vague Chrestomanci (I also like how you have him appear in his dressing gowns). Your innovative and yet easy-to-read style sets you apart. I hope that you will continue to create wonderful stories.
Most sincerely,
Oskar O.K. Strom
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
WA 3: D1
Dear Diana Wynne Jones,
I just had to write about how much I love your books. It originally started with Howl's Moving Castle which I bought after I saw the Miyazaki film (which also was wonderful). After that I went crazy and started reading every one of your books I could find. During my 8th grade year in school I read the all the stories of the Chrestomanci series, both Dark Lord of Derkholm and the sequel Year of the Griffin, The Homeward Bounders, the entire Dalemark Quartet, The Merlin Conspiracy, Castle in the Air, Archer's Goon, Dogsbody, Fire and Hemlock, A Tale of Time City, Time of the Ghost, Eight Days of Luke, and Aunt Maria. You were the author that got me interested in the fantasy genre. I love your creativity and your everyday thoughts and humor put in fantastic situations. Your innovative and yet easy-to-read style sets you apart. I hope that you will continue to create wonderful stories.
Most sincerly,
Oskar O.K. Strom
I just had to write about how much I love your books. It originally started with Howl's Moving Castle which I bought after I saw the Miyazaki film (which also was wonderful). After that I went crazy and started reading every one of your books I could find. During my 8th grade year in school I read the all the stories of the Chrestomanci series, both Dark Lord of Derkholm and the sequel Year of the Griffin, The Homeward Bounders, the entire Dalemark Quartet, The Merlin Conspiracy, Castle in the Air, Archer's Goon, Dogsbody, Fire and Hemlock, A Tale of Time City, Time of the Ghost, Eight Days of Luke, and Aunt Maria. You were the author that got me interested in the fantasy genre. I love your creativity and your everyday thoughts and humor put in fantastic situations. Your innovative and yet easy-to-read style sets you apart. I hope that you will continue to create wonderful stories.
Most sincerly,
Oskar O.K. Strom
Sunday, October 26, 2008
WA:2 D:3 (FINAL)
Toys of all kinds thrown everywhere.
Any kind of toy you could imagine: balls, dolls, trains, games, tops, anything!
This is where we find ourselves today. We have come to gather what we've understood about this place. The place we used to love, the place we made, the place where we are Trapped.
Many years ago we imagined this place...
They told us not to go there, we didn't listen...
They said it wasn't real, wasn't safe...
We never listen...
We awoke to the sound of the wind outside the Room. As we gaze from the old bed we can see it all. The entire room is all we have seen for some time now. On its round leathery walls hang the pictures we made before the pencil broke. Below the walls is the floor which has that familiar green carpet. We've always loved that carpet with its diamond pattern made of different shades of green. It reminds of the rolling green hills outside the Old place where we used to live. We love our many toys which we put on the carpet. We have many toys like the doll, the car, the cat, and the ball. Sometimes we rearrange them. When we look up we can see the ceiling where the funny yellow lamp that hangs down. We call it funny because it talks to us. Late at night when we try to sleep it whispers, "Why do you lay there?" We cannot answer sincerely so we always reply, "Silly yellow lamp...let us sleep..."
Other things we notice are the table in the corner. There is a little chair for us to sit in next to the table. That's where we made the pictures. We remember now how fun that was. When we first came into the room there was the pencil and the paper on the table. We spent hours drawing many pictures on the paper. The smooth paper that our rough pencil glided over as we drew...
But then we remembered...
We weren't supposed to be in the Room anymore. They warned not to go in there anymore. But we thought we knew better. It was too late. Although I ask him he never tells me how we got here.We're all alone now... we ask ourselves....
"Why can't we leave?",
"Because we don't want to of course!" , "Do you not remember the agreement?"
"But we are so lonely," , "Will They ever come back to us?"
We looked up at the clock. We have always hated the clock. The clock knows what we have done and reminds us how long we have been Trapped. Why won't the clock leave us alone... How long must we stay? The sound of clock is all we fear. Tick tock tick tock...The clock mocks us.
"How long must we stay?!"
"Let us go!" "Please let us go!"
"We're all alone..."
Finally we had had enough. For the first time we took our hand and made it into a powerful fist. We unleashed all our fury against the leathery walls. We pounded and screamed and spit at the terrible wall. We watched the clock as it moved. It's hands spread out of its face to gesture us to stop. We didn't listen. We never listen. We beat the wall with all of our rage and frustration but it would not even dent. Eventually we collapsed.
We do not know how long we lay there on the carpet. But we did lay. And as we layed we thought... We thought of the way to freedom... Yes, exactly. Freedom from the clock and the lamp and the Room. We thought of the Knife...
It was a long knife with a slightly curved blade. It had a green glass handle with harlequin pattern and a grey-white bone blade. The blade was carved with an eye that saw the way out. It would guide us through the terrible wall. Once we had thought of the knife we held it in our left hand.
Then it started...
We held up the Knife to the wall. We slowly walked towards our enemy and then we stroke our enemy down. We loved the sound that the Knife made on the leathery wall. It was like the sound of flesh being torn through but teeth. In that moment we were free from the Room. But we should have listened...
No sooner had we cut the scratch in the wall that the water began. At first it was slow. It made a new noise too. Drip, drip, drip... We didn't know what to do so we just listened to the drip, drip... We saw the drops form a puddle on the floor. Now it dripped louder! You could not imagine our joy as we saw the water drip and make ripples in the puddle. In the end we never realized what was happening. We just listened as the drip became a steady stream of the wonderful water and then became silent. We stood still as the water filled the terrible Room. We saw how everything in the room became wet. Some of the toys floated and the way they moved was fun to watch. We amused ourselves as the wetness came into our Room. And then, finally, the Room was full and when the sweet water finally filled our lungs, then, and only then, were we free. Free from the two lives, free from ourselves, and free from our own creation: the Room.
Any kind of toy you could imagine: balls, dolls, trains, games, tops, anything!
This is where we find ourselves today. We have come to gather what we've understood about this place. The place we used to love, the place we made, the place where we are Trapped.
Many years ago we imagined this place...
They told us not to go there, we didn't listen...
They said it wasn't real, wasn't safe...
We never listen...
We awoke to the sound of the wind outside the Room. As we gaze from the old bed we can see it all. The entire room is all we have seen for some time now. On its round leathery walls hang the pictures we made before the pencil broke. Below the walls is the floor which has that familiar green carpet. We've always loved that carpet with its diamond pattern made of different shades of green. It reminds of the rolling green hills outside the Old place where we used to live. We love our many toys which we put on the carpet. We have many toys like the doll, the car, the cat, and the ball. Sometimes we rearrange them. When we look up we can see the ceiling where the funny yellow lamp that hangs down. We call it funny because it talks to us. Late at night when we try to sleep it whispers, "Why do you lay there?" We cannot answer sincerely so we always reply, "Silly yellow lamp...let us sleep..."
Other things we notice are the table in the corner. There is a little chair for us to sit in next to the table. That's where we made the pictures. We remember now how fun that was. When we first came into the room there was the pencil and the paper on the table. We spent hours drawing many pictures on the paper. The smooth paper that our rough pencil glided over as we drew...
But then we remembered...
We weren't supposed to be in the Room anymore. They warned not to go in there anymore. But we thought we knew better. It was too late. Although I ask him he never tells me how we got here.We're all alone now... we ask ourselves....
"Why can't we leave?",
"Because we don't want to of course!" , "Do you not remember the agreement?"
"But we are so lonely," , "Will They ever come back to us?"
We looked up at the clock. We have always hated the clock. The clock knows what we have done and reminds us how long we have been Trapped. Why won't the clock leave us alone... How long must we stay? The sound of clock is all we fear. Tick tock tick tock...The clock mocks us.
"How long must we stay?!"
"Let us go!" "Please let us go!"
"We're all alone..."
Finally we had had enough. For the first time we took our hand and made it into a powerful fist. We unleashed all our fury against the leathery walls. We pounded and screamed and spit at the terrible wall. We watched the clock as it moved. It's hands spread out of its face to gesture us to stop. We didn't listen. We never listen. We beat the wall with all of our rage and frustration but it would not even dent. Eventually we collapsed.
We do not know how long we lay there on the carpet. But we did lay. And as we layed we thought... We thought of the way to freedom... Yes, exactly. Freedom from the clock and the lamp and the Room. We thought of the Knife...
It was a long knife with a slightly curved blade. It had a green glass handle with harlequin pattern and a grey-white bone blade. The blade was carved with an eye that saw the way out. It would guide us through the terrible wall. Once we had thought of the knife we held it in our left hand.
Then it started...
We held up the Knife to the wall. We slowly walked towards our enemy and then we stroke our enemy down. We loved the sound that the Knife made on the leathery wall. It was like the sound of flesh being torn through but teeth. In that moment we were free from the Room. But we should have listened...
No sooner had we cut the scratch in the wall that the water began. At first it was slow. It made a new noise too. Drip, drip, drip... We didn't know what to do so we just listened to the drip, drip... We saw the drops form a puddle on the floor. Now it dripped louder! You could not imagine our joy as we saw the water drip and make ripples in the puddle. In the end we never realized what was happening. We just listened as the drip became a steady stream of the wonderful water and then became silent. We stood still as the water filled the terrible Room. We saw how everything in the room became wet. Some of the toys floated and the way they moved was fun to watch. We amused ourselves as the wetness came into our Room. And then, finally, the Room was full and when the sweet water finally filled our lungs, then, and only then, were we free. Free from the two lives, free from ourselves, and free from our own creation: the Room.
Monday, October 20, 2008
WA:2 D:2
Toys of all kinds thrown everywhere.
This is where we find ourselves today. We have come to gather what we've understood about this place. The place where we are Trapped...
We awoke to the sound of the wind outside the Room. As we gaze from the old bed we can see it all. The entire room is all we have seen for some time now. On its round leathery walls hang the pictures we made before the pencil broke. Below the walls is the floor which has that familiar green carpet. We've always loved that carpet with its diamond pattern made of different shades of green. It reminds of the rolling green hills outside the Old place. We love our many toys which we put on the carpet. We have many toys like the doll, and the car. Sometimes we rearrange them. When we look up we can see the ceiling where the funny yellow lamp that hangs down. We call it funny because it talks to us. Late at night when we try to sleep it whispers, "Why do you lay there?" We cannot answer sincerely so we always reply, "Silly yellow lamp...let us sleep..."
Other things we notice are the table in the corner. There is a little chair for us to sit in next to the table. That's where we made the pictures. We remember now how fun that was. When we first came into the room there was the pencil and the paper on the table. We spent hours drawing many pictures on the paper. The smooth paper that our rough pencil glided over as we drew...
But then we remembered...
We weren't supposed to be in the Room anymore. They warned not to go in there anymore. But we thought we knew better. It was too late. Although I ask him he never tells me how we got here.We're all alone now... we ask ourselves....
"Why can't we leave?",
"Because we don't want to of course!" , "Do you not remember the agreement?"
"But we are so lonely," , "Will They ever come back to us?"
We looked up at the clock. We have always hated the clock. The clock knows what we have done and reminds us how long we have been Trapped. Why won't the clock leave us alone... How long must we stay? The sound of clock is all we fear. Tick tock tick tock...The clock mocks us.
"How long must we stay?!"
"Let us go!" "Please let us go!"
"We're all alone..."
Finally we had had enough. For the first time we took our hand and made it into a powerful fist. We unleashed all our fury against the leathery walls. We pounded and screamed and spit at the terrible wall. We watched the clock as it moved. It's hands spread out of its face to gesture us to stop. We didn't listen. We never listen. We beat the wall with all of our rage and frustration but it would not even dent. Eventually we collapsed.
We do not know how long we lay there on the carpet. But we did lay. And as we layed we thought... We thought of the way to freedom... Yes, exactly. Freedom from the clock and the lamp and the Room. We thought of the Knife...
It was a long knife with a slightly curved blade. It had a green glass handle with harlequin pattern and a grey-white bone blade. The blade was carved with an eye that saw the way out. It would guide us through the terrible wall. Once we had thought of the knife we held it in our left hand.
Now it began.
We held up the Knife to the wall. We slowly walked towards our enemy and then we stroke our enemy down. We loved the sound that the Knife made on the leathery wall. It was like the sound of flesh being torn through but teeth. In that moment we were free from the Room. But we should have listened...
No sooner had we cut the scratch in the wall that the water began. At first it was slow. It made a new noise too. Drip, drip, drip... We didn't know what to do so we just listened to the drip, drip... We saw the drops form a puddle on the floor. Now it dripped louder! You could not imagine our joy as we saw the water drip and make ripples in the puddle. In the end we never realized what was happening. We just listened as the drip became a steady stream of the wonderful water and then became silent. We stood still as the water filled the terrible Room. We saw how everything in the room became wet. Some of the toys floated and the way they moved was fun to watch. We amused ourselves as the wetness came into our Room. And then, finally, the Room was full and we were free.
This is where we find ourselves today. We have come to gather what we've understood about this place. The place where we are Trapped...
We awoke to the sound of the wind outside the Room. As we gaze from the old bed we can see it all. The entire room is all we have seen for some time now. On its round leathery walls hang the pictures we made before the pencil broke. Below the walls is the floor which has that familiar green carpet. We've always loved that carpet with its diamond pattern made of different shades of green. It reminds of the rolling green hills outside the Old place. We love our many toys which we put on the carpet. We have many toys like the doll, and the car. Sometimes we rearrange them. When we look up we can see the ceiling where the funny yellow lamp that hangs down. We call it funny because it talks to us. Late at night when we try to sleep it whispers, "Why do you lay there?" We cannot answer sincerely so we always reply, "Silly yellow lamp...let us sleep..."
Other things we notice are the table in the corner. There is a little chair for us to sit in next to the table. That's where we made the pictures. We remember now how fun that was. When we first came into the room there was the pencil and the paper on the table. We spent hours drawing many pictures on the paper. The smooth paper that our rough pencil glided over as we drew...
But then we remembered...
We weren't supposed to be in the Room anymore. They warned not to go in there anymore. But we thought we knew better. It was too late. Although I ask him he never tells me how we got here.We're all alone now... we ask ourselves....
"Why can't we leave?",
"Because we don't want to of course!" , "Do you not remember the agreement?"
"But we are so lonely," , "Will They ever come back to us?"
We looked up at the clock. We have always hated the clock. The clock knows what we have done and reminds us how long we have been Trapped. Why won't the clock leave us alone... How long must we stay? The sound of clock is all we fear. Tick tock tick tock...The clock mocks us.
"How long must we stay?!"
"Let us go!" "Please let us go!"
"We're all alone..."
Finally we had had enough. For the first time we took our hand and made it into a powerful fist. We unleashed all our fury against the leathery walls. We pounded and screamed and spit at the terrible wall. We watched the clock as it moved. It's hands spread out of its face to gesture us to stop. We didn't listen. We never listen. We beat the wall with all of our rage and frustration but it would not even dent. Eventually we collapsed.
We do not know how long we lay there on the carpet. But we did lay. And as we layed we thought... We thought of the way to freedom... Yes, exactly. Freedom from the clock and the lamp and the Room. We thought of the Knife...
It was a long knife with a slightly curved blade. It had a green glass handle with harlequin pattern and a grey-white bone blade. The blade was carved with an eye that saw the way out. It would guide us through the terrible wall. Once we had thought of the knife we held it in our left hand.
Now it began.
We held up the Knife to the wall. We slowly walked towards our enemy and then we stroke our enemy down. We loved the sound that the Knife made on the leathery wall. It was like the sound of flesh being torn through but teeth. In that moment we were free from the Room. But we should have listened...
No sooner had we cut the scratch in the wall that the water began. At first it was slow. It made a new noise too. Drip, drip, drip... We didn't know what to do so we just listened to the drip, drip... We saw the drops form a puddle on the floor. Now it dripped louder! You could not imagine our joy as we saw the water drip and make ripples in the puddle. In the end we never realized what was happening. We just listened as the drip became a steady stream of the wonderful water and then became silent. We stood still as the water filled the terrible Room. We saw how everything in the room became wet. Some of the toys floated and the way they moved was fun to watch. We amused ourselves as the wetness came into our Room. And then, finally, the Room was full and we were free.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
WA2: D1 Split
Toys of all kinds thrown everywhere.
This is where we find ourselves today. We have come to gather what we've understood about this place. The place where we are Trapped...
We awoke to sound of the wind outside the Room. As we gaze from the old bed we can see it all. The entire room is all we have seen for some time now. On its round leathery walls hang the pictures we made before the pencil broke. Below the walls is the floor which has that famalier green carpet. We've always loved that carpet with its diamond pattern made of different shades of green. It reminds of the rolling green hills outside the Old place. We love are many toys which we put on the carpet. We have many toys like the doll, and the car. Sometimes we rearrange them. When we look up we can see the ceiling where the funny yellow lamp that hangs down. We call it funny because it talks to us. Late at night when we try to sleep it whispers, "Why do you lye there?" We cannot anwser sincerely so we always reply, "Silly yellow lamp...let us sleep..."
Other things we notice are the table in the corner. There is a little chair for us to sit in next to the table. That's where we made the pictures. We remember now how fun that was. When we first came into the room there was the pencil and the paper on the table. We spent hours drawing many pictures on the paper. The smooth paper that our rough pencil glided over as we drew...
But then we remembered...
We wern't supposed to be in the Room anymore. They warned not to go in there anymore. But we thought we knew better. It was too late. Although I ask him he never tells me how we got here.We're all alone now... we ask ourselves....
"Why can't we leave?",
"Because we don't want to of course!" , "Do you not remember the agreement?"
"But we are so lonely," , "Will They ever come back to us?"
We looked up at the clock. We have always hated the clock. The clock knows what we have done and reminds us how long we have been Trapped. Why won't the clock leave us alone... How long must we stay? The sound of clock is all we fear. Tick tock tick tock...The clock mocks us.
"How long must we stay?!"
"Let us go!" "Please let us go!"
"We're all alone..."
Finally we had had enough. For the first time we took our hand and made it into a powerful fist. We unleashed all our fury against the leathery walls. We pounded and screamed and spit at the terrible wall. We watched the clock as it moved. It's hands spread out of its face to gesture us to stop. We didn't listen. We never listen. We beat the wall with all of our rage and frustration but it would not even dent. Eventually we collapsed.
We do not know how long we lay there on the carpet. But we did lay. And as we layed we thought... We thought of the way to freedom... Yes, exactly. Freedom from the clock and the lamp and the Room. We thought of the Knife...
It was a long knife with a slightly curved blade. It had a green glass handel and was made of bone. It was carved with an eye that saw the way out and would guide us through the terrible wall. Once we had thought of the knife we held it in our left hand.
Now it began.
We held up the Knife to the wall. We slowly walked towards our enemy and then we stroke our enemy down. We loved the sound that the Knife made on the leathery wall. It was like the sound of flesh being torn through but teeth. In that moment we were free from the Room. But we should have listened...
No sooner had we cut the scratch in the wall that the water began. At first it was slow. It made a new noise too. Drip, drip, drip... We didn't know what to do so we just listened to the drip, drip... We saw the drops form a puddle on the floor. Now it dripped louder! You could not imagine our joy as we saw the water drip and make ripples in the puddle. In the end we never realized what was happening. We just listened as the drip became a steady stream of the wonderful water and then became silent. We stood still as the water filled the terrible Room. We saw how everything in the room became wet. Some of the toys floated and the way they moved was fun to watch. We amused ourselves as the wetness came into our Room. And then, finally, the Room was full and we were free.
This is where we find ourselves today. We have come to gather what we've understood about this place. The place where we are Trapped...
We awoke to sound of the wind outside the Room. As we gaze from the old bed we can see it all. The entire room is all we have seen for some time now. On its round leathery walls hang the pictures we made before the pencil broke. Below the walls is the floor which has that famalier green carpet. We've always loved that carpet with its diamond pattern made of different shades of green. It reminds of the rolling green hills outside the Old place. We love are many toys which we put on the carpet. We have many toys like the doll, and the car. Sometimes we rearrange them. When we look up we can see the ceiling where the funny yellow lamp that hangs down. We call it funny because it talks to us. Late at night when we try to sleep it whispers, "Why do you lye there?" We cannot anwser sincerely so we always reply, "Silly yellow lamp...let us sleep..."
Other things we notice are the table in the corner. There is a little chair for us to sit in next to the table. That's where we made the pictures. We remember now how fun that was. When we first came into the room there was the pencil and the paper on the table. We spent hours drawing many pictures on the paper. The smooth paper that our rough pencil glided over as we drew...
But then we remembered...
We wern't supposed to be in the Room anymore. They warned not to go in there anymore. But we thought we knew better. It was too late. Although I ask him he never tells me how we got here.We're all alone now... we ask ourselves....
"Why can't we leave?",
"Because we don't want to of course!" , "Do you not remember the agreement?"
"But we are so lonely," , "Will They ever come back to us?"
We looked up at the clock. We have always hated the clock. The clock knows what we have done and reminds us how long we have been Trapped. Why won't the clock leave us alone... How long must we stay? The sound of clock is all we fear. Tick tock tick tock...The clock mocks us.
"How long must we stay?!"
"Let us go!" "Please let us go!"
"We're all alone..."
Finally we had had enough. For the first time we took our hand and made it into a powerful fist. We unleashed all our fury against the leathery walls. We pounded and screamed and spit at the terrible wall. We watched the clock as it moved. It's hands spread out of its face to gesture us to stop. We didn't listen. We never listen. We beat the wall with all of our rage and frustration but it would not even dent. Eventually we collapsed.
We do not know how long we lay there on the carpet. But we did lay. And as we layed we thought... We thought of the way to freedom... Yes, exactly. Freedom from the clock and the lamp and the Room. We thought of the Knife...
It was a long knife with a slightly curved blade. It had a green glass handel and was made of bone. It was carved with an eye that saw the way out and would guide us through the terrible wall. Once we had thought of the knife we held it in our left hand.
Now it began.
We held up the Knife to the wall. We slowly walked towards our enemy and then we stroke our enemy down. We loved the sound that the Knife made on the leathery wall. It was like the sound of flesh being torn through but teeth. In that moment we were free from the Room. But we should have listened...
No sooner had we cut the scratch in the wall that the water began. At first it was slow. It made a new noise too. Drip, drip, drip... We didn't know what to do so we just listened to the drip, drip... We saw the drops form a puddle on the floor. Now it dripped louder! You could not imagine our joy as we saw the water drip and make ripples in the puddle. In the end we never realized what was happening. We just listened as the drip became a steady stream of the wonderful water and then became silent. We stood still as the water filled the terrible Room. We saw how everything in the room became wet. Some of the toys floated and the way they moved was fun to watch. We amused ourselves as the wetness came into our Room. And then, finally, the Room was full and we were free.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Emotional Release D: Final
This week-end I have been very sick (and still am). Being sick can be a very emotional experience filled with the frustration of not being able to clearly think, walk, sleep, eat, etc. As I write this I am constantly sniffling, rubbing my eyes, going to the bathroom, sneezing, coughing, feeling weak, and of course being fairly annoyed with the situation. I also would like to say that having homework does not make this any better...
But that's besides the point...
In addition, this weekend I finally got a new computer which ordinarily would be awesome but the effect is weakened by the fact that every few minutes I find myself staring at my bed thinking about sleeping and then realizing I have to type this. I would not use the verb 'explode' to describe how I am writing this anyway (nor would I describe it as 'therapeutic'). In all truth I hope I never remember this weekend except for getting my computer and going on Skyline Drive with my Dad, (which is about 10000 times more therapeutic).
Hmm...
I also thought it might be fun to write pretty much exactly what I'm thinking about right now (mostly I wish I was not sick and I wish I had no homework.)
I hope that I will be well enough to go back to school tomorrow. I also can't tell right now if I'm hungry or not.
To get back on track:
Being sick is really irksome. You don't want to talk and can't talk right even if you wanted to because your throat's sore. You can't taste anything, which makes meals a little less exciting. You have to take vitamins and/or medicine and most of all you can't focus. One of the most frustrating things about being sick and having a sore throat is deciding whether or not to take cough drops. It's a no-win situation because if you don't take them your throat will still hurt and if you do you'll get a stomach ache. You also have to deal with being extremely tired but lying in bed all night because you can't sleep. This is usually because of either a sore throat or a stomach ache. Another wish I have is for a cure for the common cold.
Also, being sick is bothersome because I always have to either stay away from everyone or risk spreading your cold to my friends and family. I usually stay away and end up feeling sort of lonely and mad about the whole situation, (like now). In a way I guess writing this is sort of an emotional release but it's not enjoyable and really fixes nothing. Right now I'm thinking it'd be fun to put some onomatopoeia in to this like 'sneeze' or 'sniffle'.
Overall I feel annoyed at myself for not writing this before I got sick and wondering if I will feel well enough to go to school tomorrow. I'm not up to it at the moment... I really hate being sick the most out of the 'normal' types of inconvenience because it makes everything else seem worse than it actually is.
In conclusion, being sick is quite bothersome, annoying, perturbing, vexing, irritating, disturbing, and agitating. For many reasons I find that being sick is one of the worst conditions, especially for working, that you can have. I really want someone to end disease altogether so that nobody else will have to go through a weekend like this one. I hope I will not be missing anymore school this year. Anyway, stay healthy out there.
Oskar
But that's besides the point...
In addition, this weekend I finally got a new computer which ordinarily would be awesome but the effect is weakened by the fact that every few minutes I find myself staring at my bed thinking about sleeping and then realizing I have to type this. I would not use the verb 'explode' to describe how I am writing this anyway (nor would I describe it as 'therapeutic'). In all truth I hope I never remember this weekend except for getting my computer and going on Skyline Drive with my Dad, (which is about 10000 times more therapeutic).
Hmm...
I also thought it might be fun to write pretty much exactly what I'm thinking about right now (mostly I wish I was not sick and I wish I had no homework.)
I hope that I will be well enough to go back to school tomorrow. I also can't tell right now if I'm hungry or not.
To get back on track:
Being sick is really irksome. You don't want to talk and can't talk right even if you wanted to because your throat's sore. You can't taste anything, which makes meals a little less exciting. You have to take vitamins and/or medicine and most of all you can't focus. One of the most frustrating things about being sick and having a sore throat is deciding whether or not to take cough drops. It's a no-win situation because if you don't take them your throat will still hurt and if you do you'll get a stomach ache. You also have to deal with being extremely tired but lying in bed all night because you can't sleep. This is usually because of either a sore throat or a stomach ache. Another wish I have is for a cure for the common cold.
Also, being sick is bothersome because I always have to either stay away from everyone or risk spreading your cold to my friends and family. I usually stay away and end up feeling sort of lonely and mad about the whole situation, (like now). In a way I guess writing this is sort of an emotional release but it's not enjoyable and really fixes nothing. Right now I'm thinking it'd be fun to put some onomatopoeia in to this like 'sneeze' or 'sniffle'.
Overall I feel annoyed at myself for not writing this before I got sick and wondering if I will feel well enough to go to school tomorrow. I'm not up to it at the moment... I really hate being sick the most out of the 'normal' types of inconvenience because it makes everything else seem worse than it actually is.
In conclusion, being sick is quite bothersome, annoying, perturbing, vexing, irritating, disturbing, and agitating. For many reasons I find that being sick is one of the worst conditions, especially for working, that you can have. I really want someone to end disease altogether so that nobody else will have to go through a weekend like this one. I hope I will not be missing anymore school this year. Anyway, stay healthy out there.
Oskar
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Emotional Release D:2
This week-end I have been very sick (and still am). Being sick is a very emotional experience filled with the frustration of not being able to clearly think, walk, sleep, eat, etc. As I write this I am constantly sniffling, rubbing my eyes, going to the bathroom, sneezing, coughing, feeling weak, and of course being fairly annoyed with the situation. I also would like to say that having homework does not make this any better...
But that's besides the point...
In addition, this weekend I finally got a new computer which ordinarily would be awesome but the effect is weakened by the fact that every few minutes I find myself staring at my bed thinking about sleeping and then realizing I have to type this. I would not use the verb 'explode' to describe how I am writing this anyway (nor would I describe it as 'therapeutic'). In all truth I hope I never remember this weekend except for getting my computer and going on Skyline Drive with my Dad, (which is about 10000 times more therapeutic).
Hmm...
I also thought it might be fun to write pretty much exactly what I'm thinking about right now (mostly I wish I was not sick and I wish I had no homework.)
I hope that I will be well enough to go back to school tomorrow. I also can't tell right now if I'm hungry or not.
To get back on track:
Being sick is really irksome. You can't talk right because your throat's sore. You can't taste anything. You have to take vitamins and/or medicine and most of all you can't focus. One of the most frustrating things about being sick and having a sore throat is deciding whether or not to take cough drops. It's a no-win situation because if you don't take them your throat will still hurt and if you do you'll get a stomach ache. You also have to deal with being extremely tired but lying in bed all night because you can't sleep. This is usually because of either a sore throat or a stomach ache. Another wish I have is for a cure for the common cold.
Also, being sick is bothersome because I always have to either stay away from everyone or risk spreading your cold to my friends and family. I usually stay away and end up feeling sort of lonely and mad about the whole situation, (like now). In a way I guess writing this is sort of an emotional release but it's not enjoyable and really fixes nothing. Right now I'm thinking it'd be fun to put some onomatopoeia in to this like 'sneeze' or 'sniffle'.
Overall I feel annoyed at myself for not writing this before I got sick and wondering if I will feel well enough to go to school tomorrow. I'm not up to it at the moment... I really hate being sick the most out of the 'normal' types of inconvenience because it makes everything else seem worse than it actually is.
In conclusion, being sick is quite bothersome, annoying, perturbing, vexing, irritating, disturbing, and agitating. For many reasons I find that being sick is one of the worst conditions, especially for working, that you can have. I really want someone to end disease altogether so that nobody else will have to go through a weekend like this one. I hope I will not be missing anymore school this year. Anyway, stay healthy out there.
Oskar
But that's besides the point...
In addition, this weekend I finally got a new computer which ordinarily would be awesome but the effect is weakened by the fact that every few minutes I find myself staring at my bed thinking about sleeping and then realizing I have to type this. I would not use the verb 'explode' to describe how I am writing this anyway (nor would I describe it as 'therapeutic'). In all truth I hope I never remember this weekend except for getting my computer and going on Skyline Drive with my Dad, (which is about 10000 times more therapeutic).
Hmm...
I also thought it might be fun to write pretty much exactly what I'm thinking about right now (mostly I wish I was not sick and I wish I had no homework.)
I hope that I will be well enough to go back to school tomorrow. I also can't tell right now if I'm hungry or not.
To get back on track:
Being sick is really irksome. You can't talk right because your throat's sore. You can't taste anything. You have to take vitamins and/or medicine and most of all you can't focus. One of the most frustrating things about being sick and having a sore throat is deciding whether or not to take cough drops. It's a no-win situation because if you don't take them your throat will still hurt and if you do you'll get a stomach ache. You also have to deal with being extremely tired but lying in bed all night because you can't sleep. This is usually because of either a sore throat or a stomach ache. Another wish I have is for a cure for the common cold.
Also, being sick is bothersome because I always have to either stay away from everyone or risk spreading your cold to my friends and family. I usually stay away and end up feeling sort of lonely and mad about the whole situation, (like now). In a way I guess writing this is sort of an emotional release but it's not enjoyable and really fixes nothing. Right now I'm thinking it'd be fun to put some onomatopoeia in to this like 'sneeze' or 'sniffle'.
Overall I feel annoyed at myself for not writing this before I got sick and wondering if I will feel well enough to go to school tomorrow. I'm not up to it at the moment... I really hate being sick the most out of the 'normal' types of inconvenience because it makes everything else seem worse than it actually is.
In conclusion, being sick is quite bothersome, annoying, perturbing, vexing, irritating, disturbing, and agitating. For many reasons I find that being sick is one of the worst conditions, especially for working, that you can have. I really want someone to end disease altogether so that nobody else will have to go through a weekend like this one. I hope I will not be missing anymore school this year. Anyway, stay healthy out there.
Oskar
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Emotional Release
This week-end I have been very sick (and still am). Being sick is a very emotional experience filled with the frustration of not being able to clearly think, walk, sleep, eat, etc. As I write this I am constantly sniffling, rubbing my eyes, going to the bathroom, sneezing, coughing, feeling weak, and of course being fairly annoyed with the situation. I also would like to say that having homework does not make this any better...
But that's besides the point...
In addition, this weekend I finally got a new computer which ordinarily would be awesome but the effect is weakened by the fact that every few minutes I find myself staring at my bed thinking about sleeping and then realizing I have to type this. I would not use the verb 'explode' to describe how I am writing this anyway (nor would I describe it as 'therapeutic'). In all truth I hope I never remember this weekend except for getting my computer and going on Skyline Drive with my Dad, (which is about 10000 times more therapeutic).
Hmm...
I also thought it might be fun to write pretty much exactly what I'm thinking about right now (mostly I wish I was not sick and I wish I had no homework.)
I hope that I will be well enough to go back to school tomorrow. I also can't tell right now if I'm hungry or not.
To get back on track:
Being sick is really irksome. You can't talk right because your throat's sore. You can't taste anything. You have to take vitamins and/or medicine and most of all you can't focus. One of the most frustrating things about being sick and having a sore throat is deciding whether or not to take cough drops. It's a no-win situation because if you don't take them your throat will still hurt and if you do you'll get a stomach ache. You also have to deal with being extremely tired but lying in bed all night because you can't sleep. Another wish I have is for a cure for the common cold.
Also, being sick is bothersome because I always have to either stay away from everyone or risk spreading your cold to your friends and family. I usually stay away and end up feeling sort of lonely and mad about the whole situation, (like now). In a way I guess writing this is sort of an emotional release but it's not enjoyable and really fixes nothing. Right now I'm thinking it'd be fun to put some onomatopoeia in to this like 'sneeze' or 'sniffle'.
Overall I feel annoyed at myself for not writing this before I got sick and wondering if I will feel well enough to go to school tomorrow. I'm not up to it at the moment... I really hate being sick the most out of the 'normal' types of inconvenience because it makes everything else seem worse than it actually is.
In conclusion, I'm sorry if I rambled too much but being ill is definitely one of the most negative influences on my writing. I wish this topic had been on something outside of my world to distract me from being sick. I guess it could have been worse and I'm glad I'm not in any serious trouble.
Oskar
But that's besides the point...
In addition, this weekend I finally got a new computer which ordinarily would be awesome but the effect is weakened by the fact that every few minutes I find myself staring at my bed thinking about sleeping and then realizing I have to type this. I would not use the verb 'explode' to describe how I am writing this anyway (nor would I describe it as 'therapeutic'). In all truth I hope I never remember this weekend except for getting my computer and going on Skyline Drive with my Dad, (which is about 10000 times more therapeutic).
Hmm...
I also thought it might be fun to write pretty much exactly what I'm thinking about right now (mostly I wish I was not sick and I wish I had no homework.)
I hope that I will be well enough to go back to school tomorrow. I also can't tell right now if I'm hungry or not.
To get back on track:
Being sick is really irksome. You can't talk right because your throat's sore. You can't taste anything. You have to take vitamins and/or medicine and most of all you can't focus. One of the most frustrating things about being sick and having a sore throat is deciding whether or not to take cough drops. It's a no-win situation because if you don't take them your throat will still hurt and if you do you'll get a stomach ache. You also have to deal with being extremely tired but lying in bed all night because you can't sleep. Another wish I have is for a cure for the common cold.
Also, being sick is bothersome because I always have to either stay away from everyone or risk spreading your cold to your friends and family. I usually stay away and end up feeling sort of lonely and mad about the whole situation, (like now). In a way I guess writing this is sort of an emotional release but it's not enjoyable and really fixes nothing. Right now I'm thinking it'd be fun to put some onomatopoeia in to this like 'sneeze' or 'sniffle'.
Overall I feel annoyed at myself for not writing this before I got sick and wondering if I will feel well enough to go to school tomorrow. I'm not up to it at the moment... I really hate being sick the most out of the 'normal' types of inconvenience because it makes everything else seem worse than it actually is.
In conclusion, I'm sorry if I rambled too much but being ill is definitely one of the most negative influences on my writing. I wish this topic had been on something outside of my world to distract me from being sick. I guess it could have been worse and I'm glad I'm not in any serious trouble.
Oskar
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
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