Scribblings of a Frantic Author

[sound of a pen scratching along the rough surface of the paper]

So, for those of you who are aware of 4-H, you would know what a Record Book is.  And for those of you who are not aware of what 4-H is, then know that a Record Book is exactly what the name implies: a book a records.  And I mean any and all records: what you cooked for your first food and nutrition contest, how many hours of community service you spent at the local food pantry, how much leadership you gained while preparing your main project.

So, for all of us 4-Hers out there, Record Books are like the bane of our existence.  I'm not saying they're bad--quite the contrary for they help with a lot of college scholarships and applications when you actually need all those records later on.  But to say that they're helpful does not mean that they are not painful.  Because they are!  Pure, all-in-all, computer difficulties thrown-in pain!

Anyway, last night, we went to a Leadership Night and someone from our District's Office spoke on the new changes going into Record Books this year.  This woman was a very good speaker, and I enjoyed listening.  But, given that I didn't go to bed till 5:00am that morning [I'd been at a sleepover with some friends] and just had to give a presentation on a 4-H Teen Retreat with the afore mentioned friends [and if they're reading this, I just want to say that I love y'all!  Sorry for my grumpiness] I was tired and was moody--to put it loosely.

And about halfway into her long talk about all the new changes, I started scribbling on my paper of Summary of Activities and Accomplishments.  I must have been very spaced out, in light of what I scribbled very randomly.  I'm sure everyone thought I was taking very detailed notes [shhhh--don't tell].

Anyway, I have taken a best friend's advice and decided to grace you with these notations so you can see what a frantic author scrawls when very stressed out.  Here is a picture of my ramblings.

I started writing along the top of the page:

I ran, not looking back or glancing over my shoulder––never pausing for breath, forcing my lungs to expand and contract w/ burning pain.  I couldn’t stop.

Next part goes down the right side of the page:

Just had––had to keep going.  My side throbbed w/ a sharp ache.  Where––where the devil was the river?  A sharp hiss rent the air and I felt a fiery agony in my calf.  My leg gave way and I sprawled on my face, blindly scrambling and clawing to get back on my feet.  My breath came in gasps as I stumbled forward a few steps.  I could hear them––hear them getting closer.  

Now there’s a big arrow going to the middle of the page in between the boxes marked out for Personal Journal and the afore mentioned Summary of Activities and Accomplishments:

Hear them––the ones who wanted my blood, would do anything to kill me.  I HAD to keep going.

Then there’s an arrow to the bottom left side of the page:

Cursing, I kept going, pushing myself forward––always forward.  I could hear them growing louder––the pounding feet, clanking armor, and always the hiss of deadly arrows searching for my flesh.  And the baying of the hounds, getting closer––always closer.  And there was nothing I could do.

An arrow pointing to the top left side of the page:

I was giving up.  I had too.  I hurt––everything hurt.  I couldn’t go on––go any farther.  And they got closer––closing in for the kill.  

So there you have it: what I was scratching [un-edited] so furiously at during a speech on Record Books, of all things.  I really don’t know what inspired it––perhaps I will use it someday in a book.  But that’s what you get when I stay up late, have to speak for the program, and am very frazzled.  

Don’t know what it says, but I’m a writer––and writers are weird, at least in my opinion.  

Sincerely,

R.D.

Things to Do When You're Bored

[sits down and starts typing]

Is it a dreadful thing to be bored?  It depends on the type of boredom.  When I was little, there was no such word as bored, so I was never bored.  But what if you actually are bored?  There are various things that can conquer this feeling--blogging is one of them: hence this post, savvy?

So I'm here to tell you a few things to do when you're bored.

#1: Watch "Automatic Door Fail" on Youtube--nothing like watching a foreign engineering major trying to figuring out an automatic glass door.

#2: Go up to a random guy [preferably with longish dark hair] and ask him if you can hire him as your next party's Elvis impersonator.  Videotape the reaction.

#3:  Go to a department store and move all the "Caution: Wet Floors" signs to carpeted clothing areas.

#4:  Go to a different department store and set all the alarm clocks in the aisles to go off at ten-minute intervals.

#5:  Go up to a random person and ask them why "abbreviated" is such a long word.

#6:  Go to your local Walmart and, when an announcement comes over the loudspeaker, assume a fetal position on the floor and yell, "No, no!!!!  It's those voices again!!!"

#7:  Ask the checker at H-E-B why glue doesn't stick to the inside of the bottle.

#8:  Stand on a street corner and shout "Elliot" in a long, groaning, gravelly voice at cars going by.  See how many people get it.

#9:  Roll down your windows and blast "You Are My Sunshine" going down the center of Main Street.

#10: Go to Bath and Body works and make it a point to sample every single one of the perfumes.

So there you have it--10 things to do when you're bored.  And if you take my advice, you won't be bored anymore!

What defines you?

What word defines you?

Tomboy?  Writer?  Actor?  Reporter?  Stubborn?  Blogger?

If I had to choose four words, they would be: All of the above.  I am a writer, reporter, and blogger who loves to create stories from my head and put them on paper.  I love to act--to take on the role of someone other than myself--and people call me stubborn, which might be somewhat of an understatement.  I am a bit of a tomboy who doesn't usually like wearing makeup [big newsflash: some girls of this generation can actually survive without those outrageously expensive cosmetics].

Things around us--in our lives--shape what we are.  I live out in the country, some of you may live in the city.  That molds our characters: the sports we play, the activities we choose to do.  I often wonder how different I would be if I lived in New York.  Would I be enrolled in an elite acting school where I could further my career acting for Broadway?  What would I be doing?  What kind of friends would I have?  Now that I cannot answer you, for I do not live in New York--instead, I eke out stories on my laptop somewhere out in the Texas country about 45mins away from any good grocery store.

But if I did live somewhere else, would I be that different?   Would I be plastered with makeup every day, or would I even love to write?

For right now, however, I'm content to stay where I am--at least until college.  And yes, I am a writer, actor, reporter, blogger, and stubborn tomboy--much to my mother's dismay.  But above all, I'm a dreamer--a dreamer that cannot live life without the fabrications of imagination that strike inspiration at even the most impractical of times.

What are you?

Dreams...

What are dreams?  What is a dreamer?    Where would this world be if people did not dream outside the ordinary, conquer the inescapable,  and refuse the inevitable?  What would we be like today if none of the brilliant minds of times past and present had never dreamed up unrealistic contraptions, machines, medicine, and many other things that all make what we are in the modern world?

Now, when I say dreams, of course I mean physical dreams--aspirations that push you along the bumpy road of life, urging you to keep going to matter how hard you just want to give up and take the easy way.

But there are different kind of dreams as well: nightmares, hallucinations, visions--all when you're asleep. And I, as a person, have had some very weird dreams in the past: a few of which are best left unspoken.  In our sleep, our mind creates a whole new world that we explore.  Some of my dreams involve books I've read, or movies I've just watched.  But the strange thing about them, is that in dreams, it's totally normal to be sitting in new-space-like van during a 4-H dance/contest while watching giant helicopter hover outside your window.  (I did not just tell you my dream from last night.  Forget I mentioned it.)

So there are two kinds: physical and mental.  What are your physical dreams?  Ambitions that keep you striving to write that novel, try out for that musical, or practice that song till your fingers fall off?  What makes you keep going?

So join me, be creative, and dream!

What is Old School Ink?

[Sits down and begins to write]

So, what exactly is this blog for?  Well, for me it means to communicate and share with other people the adventures--and mishaps--of my life, as if I were some glamorous character in a book who always has adventurous escapades.  In this, I'm going to be posting a lot of my writing, all the stories of my imagination that are thought up late at night, when I'm supposed to be sleeping--or when I'm doing school.

What does the name Old School Ink mean?  Well, I, as a person, would probably be classified as "old school" by the "hip" generation of today.  I love reading old classic books, watching old classic movies, and wearing classic Chuck Taylor Converse.  And I love writing with a classic flare, so thence the add-on Ink.

So, welcome to my world!  A world of adventure, dares, and imagination.


Feel free to jump onboard.