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Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Short Story- The Dome

This is the short story I did for creative writing. It isn't even remotely close to my original idea, but after much debate, I decided I couldn't do it for a few reasons-

1. I wanted to be unrestricted in what I wrote, and I felt that this might possibly require more than thirty pages.

2. I ran into a character problem. I realized with what I wanted to write, I couldn't have Jackson Perth be the main character. It had to be another guy who I could create at the needed time.

3. I was time restricted.

I think that's really all. So, I came up with an idea that didn't meet this troubling criteria. No complicated plot, not a plethora of characters, and it was a simple idea that could be written in a decent amount of time, yet still satisfy the needs of my creativity. So, I hope you enjoy this, and critique me if you notice something that needs to be fixed.

The Dome

The night sky was humming with the sweet chords of jazz. Around and around, like an invisible snake, the notes weaved in, out, and between the stars. They danced with Cassiopeia and strode with Orion. They mingled with the air low and high all the way across the Milky Way. It was a sweet, inviting tune, beckoning any passerby to come in and enjoy what surprises it offered. The music hailed from a white dome. Resting on the hillside, it would seem strange to any passerby that a structure such as this should lay there, but those who built the dome all agreed that it was the perfect location. Serene, quiet, peaceful, beautiful, it was all here. The night was of a warm summer, just a little after sundown. You could still see all around where you might stand, yet it would be dark enough that a sign from a ways away would be illegible. This was a time when night the night was still very young, and when people were still wide awake barbecuing, playing, or just talking the night away on their front porches.

The dome was alive tonight. The lights were on, illuminating the dome like a light-bulb. And like moths, people were swarming the light-bulb, buzzing along the twisted paths and trails until they came to whatever door they ended up at. Like an army attacking a fortress under siege, they advanced with much anticipation. They opened the doors entered, streaming in like a strong current of water being released from a dam. The stream was relentless. It pounded countless faces through the auditorium's outer hallway, quickly stuffing it full. It seemed that the place would overflow with people.Everyone scurried frantically to the doors to the auditorium. Although it seemed impossible, the crowd finally got completely in the auditorium and dispersed into their personal seats. And despite the high number of people, everyone got a seat.

The inside, like the outside, was also white. It was a spectacular piece of work to look at, made from fine, polished marble, refined white wood, and other sorts of high-quality building materials. In the center was a huge hardwood floor of pure white and so clean and spotless as if it had just at that moment been nailed down. Around it were cushioned seats for everyone that had designs of dragons and serpents etched in.
 The borders were decorated with banners and flowers. They were carved with patterns of the stars and the seasons.

The architects who made the building took a lot of pride in it. Everyone took pride in it. They cleaned it daily so nothing could settle and become problematic such as sticky soda or rotting apples. Even when nothing had happened there for a week, the people still went in and swept for dust. Any animals or insects that got in were eradicated. Damages were fixed the day they were discovered. It was guarded all day and all night just in case vandals decided to do their dirty work on the place. (Which rarely happened, if ever.) The people loved this building and took great care of it.
 
This night was one of the many nights when all that great care became worth it. It was a very promising night as it was with the jazz playing, and it was about to get better. The jazz was being played by a live band as entertainment before the main event started. They normally played here on event nights, one part being for the money, but mostly for the music, the people, the place, and the event. With a lot of cheery enthusiasm, they played on and they kept doing so until a voice came over the loudspeaker.
"Eh-hem! Excuse me everyone," it said, "please settle down."

The jazz band stopped playing. The crowd hushed itself to complete silence. Even the crickets no longer chirped. Someone could've been mumbling to themselves and everyone would've heard it. It was as if the place was dead, yet, you could sense an excitement being restrained throughout the room, a feeling more evident than any cough, sneeze, or whisper that could've occurred, if there were any such noises in the air at the time. "All right then," the voice said. "Tonight, for our main event, we shall witness ballroom dancers perform to some of history's magnificent works."

Although it was still quite quiet, you could hear people whispering all around, talking about how exciting the show would be, what songs they hoped would be played, and other such matters. The voice continued. "If any of you have cellphones, would you please turn them off?"

The crowd obliged. All at once, hundreds of hands squirmed all over the place reaching for their talking bricks. Hundreds of little lights woke from their sleep only to be temporarily put out of commission. Those hands squirmed again to put the brick away, and it soon became silent again.

"Please discard of your trash properly."

After every event, there was very little trash to be swept or picked up, which made the janitors very pleased. They eventually came to assume that people would stay responsible and clean up after themselves, just as they had in the past.

"Do not make loud and disturbing noises."

Based on the fact that no mumbling or any other such noises were occurring, it was apparent to everyone that they would stay that way.

"And please, above all, enjoy the show!"

They always did. No matter what was happening there, whether it be music, dance, a musical, a speech, or any of the other various things that went on in the dome, they always enjoyed the show. 

The music began to play. As it did, the dancers slide from under the four main entrances on the bottom stage. They moved with gentle motion soft enough that they seemed to move in harmony with the light around them. They made no noise whatsoever. They made no taps with their shoes. When they jumped or swung their arms around, they didn't make any clapping noise.It was as if this dome was outer-space, where no sounds of any sort could travel. They were immediately dissipated after they occurred because the atmosphere of this place could not carry the waves for the noise to travel. Although outer-space was actually miles away in the sky, there certainly was a different property in the air tonight. Many might have called it different things, but most would agree that it was simply called magic. The dancers created a special magic in the air by their art. They told stories of timeless value and they presented universal ideas. They did all of this with just notes and movement, and nothing more. For all those inside witnessing this beautiful display, time stood still. It normally doesn't, but when something extraordinary or special happens, just like this moment, it can.

After some time of seemingly endless splendor, the final song ended. The dancers carried out their final movements, then they were still. For a moment, the audience was still quiet, still bound silent by that strange and wonderful magic. When the realization that it was over finally sank into them, they clapped. Hard. They all stood and cheered. They cheered and whistled their hearts out, filling the once silent stadium with enough sound to travel all across the county. As the echoes cleared, a man went to the center of the room, gripping in his hand, a microphone.

"Wow, what an excellent job dancers!" He said to the crowd. It was the same man that had spoken over the loudspeaker. "Weren't they just excellent?" The crowd replied by exploding with applause again. "That must be a yes," chuckled the man. "What we have witnessed here tonight is something very beautiful, and I just want to thank these wonderful dancers for working so hard to get it to that point. It took a lot to accomplish what they did tonight, and I'd like to congratulate them. It took time, effort, teamwork, skill, and love for the art to do all this, and we, if I may speak for the whole crowd, admire that."

The crowd confirmed the suspicion by making more grateful applauds.

"Thank-you for all being here tonight." the man said again. "We always appreciate large crowds on the nights of our shows. We will be doing the same show for the rest of this week and we will be doing a new one in about three. Have a good night everyone."

The crowd stood up, and with a slow but steady pace, they soon emptied out of the dome. They carried home the magic of that night, the performance where time stood still. They would carry it in their memories and cherish it forever.

After the crowd had left, the janitors cleaned up the place. Like always, there was not a lot of trash to clean up. No spills to mop up or food to dispose of. By the time they were all done, the dome was sparkling with a  brilliant white once more. They left the place too, locking the doors as they left.

On the hillside, the dome, loved by all, stood quiet, waiting for tomorrow and the magic that it would bring.


 Fin


As an after-note, there is a hidden message in here, something to learn from it. If you know what it may be, tell me. (There are never really wrong answers.)

Thank-you for for reading.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Short Story Idea + Character(s)

I had trouble coming up with a plot for my character. Based on who he was, it was going to be the journey from Wyoming to Australia, but the details and whatnot were difficult. Plus, that would've been a hard thing to come up with in thirty pages. So, I went to a rich resource, King of the Hill. The show is a view on everyday problems and American culture. So, looking at what I have for my character so far, (which will most likely change as my story goes) I came up with a pretty decent plot.

Jackson Perth, an ophiologist, lives on the second floor of an apartment located in the fictional city of Smithtown,  Utah. He has a few teenage out-of-high school neighbors who currently do not attend a college. He and his other neighbors soon get quite tired of the shenanigans of these teens. They want the landlord to kick them out, but he refuses. He doesn't want to lose his younger customers, but he realizes that he can't lose the other half. He tells them that they must figure it out themselves first. If they don't succeed, he'll fix it himself. They plan and try, but none of their plans work. Jackson, now seeing the need for the teens to stay put, finds an unusual way to figure out a plan. (a way that I sorta know of, but can't tell you of yet because it's a surprise.) The rest is how it is resolved.

That's about all I have that I can reveal without spoiling it, but I'll give you a hint. (It has to do with what he is.)

Thursday, April 7, 2011

THE FIRST MUSIC VIDEO IS DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's been weeks, but I finally finished writing the screenplay for a music video. The song is a favorite of mine. It is the Hollywood Undead song "Sell Your Soul." The music video displays the metaphor in the song as I perceive it. I have written about this song before, so anyone wanting to see where I'm standing with this song, go ahead and read it if you'd like. Comments and critiques are welcome. I need it so I can write these better, so I can improve the script itself, and so it looks good when I film it. (I don't know how it will be done, but writing them is only half the fun. Whether it be by me and/or some other person, I'm making it. And if anyone wishes to do it with me sometime...speak up.)

But anyway, here's a link-

http://aballhonorsmusicvideos.blogspot.com/2011/04/sell-your-soul-by-hollywood-undead.html

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Friends

For anyone who is reading this blog and wasn't at my house Saturday night, all you gotta know is that it was awesome. Aside from my cousins, I have never gotten that many people together to hang out before. I've always been a little shy and anti-confrontational (as you've heard many times), but after today, I think that will change. I realized just how easy it is to call someone and ask to hang out.

Ever since everybody started to leave, I was wondering why I hadn't done anything like this before. Like I said, the biggest group of kids at my house were my cousins. I never really went out their and tried to make a friend. (Well, as far as I can remember. Maybe I wasn't so shy in the third grade and lower.) All friends I had came by chance and/or because they asked ME if I wanted to hang out. I met Stephen on a walk around town. He was at a birthday party and if I'm not mistaken, he's the one that asked me to hang out. With Connor, I had a long conversation with him, and we soon became friends just naturally I think. Tyler became a friend simply because he was a cousin. Brayden became my friend because we had to go over lines for dinner theater and we both agreed that we should hang out sometime. (Although, I was the one who suggested that we go over the lines in the first place, so I guess that kinda broke the cycle.)

You, Serena, are the first one to ACTUALLY break this little chain. We were getting a long quiet nicely, and so I thought "why not?" I enjoyed your company, and I was actually kinda disappointed when you weren't there in class. There seems to be this energy about you, a positive energy. It's hard to be gloomy around you. You're one of those friends Jon Bytheway or a church leader would advise to be around because they influence you in a positive way. You make me want to be a better person. I'll admit it. The kitchen was a wreck before you came. I cleaned it up because I didn't want you and everybody else to think I was a slob. I ain't one, but it normally takes my mom asking me to clean it up. I did it willingly though. I also quote "King of the Hill" all the time, but I haven't around you because I know you would hate that show because of the immorality in it. I feel bad for watching it, like I committed a sin. Serena, thank-you so much for being my friend. I consider you as one of the best friends I ever had, even though I've only know you for a very short time. I'm sorry if it sounds cheesy, but I'm not lying to you in the slightest. You becoming my friend is one of the best things that has happened all year, a BLESSING even.

Alex, you and your sister are wonderful friends to be around as well. I hope you two can hang out again sometime! (And yes, I'll still have the sombrero.)

Again, I can't believe I didn't do this earlier! You've all made me overjoyed. I guess I'd forgotten how glorious a friendship can be. It's not I've been completely alone or neglected and whatnot. I haven't even been bullied since like the fifth or sixth grade, and I could care less about what those jerks said. I. It's true that Stephen was a bully. It's also true that Connor had his days of bullying, but we ultimately stayed friends. (He moved to Georgia though.) My cousin is one of the best friends I've ever had, but I only see him on weekends. My other cousins either live in Colorado, or I just don't see them often even though they live pretty close. My long-time friend has been great, but honestly.....it's hard to explain. Maybe it's because I haven't seen him in awhile. As for Brayden, he's...not the best influence in the world. Put him with a group of people, and he's better, but when it's just us two, he acts and says what he wants to say. My mom says she doesn't even know how we became friends. Seriously, if you do a thorough analysis on us, we are different in SOOO many ways. He spends money like it's nothing, and I prefer to shop at Ross. He hates "King of the Hill" with a passion, and I love it. (Which I actually feel bad over now.) He's outgoing, and you can see him in the halls hugging every third girl he meets. Until yesterday, a phone call would've made me hurl, but I called like three people I've never even called before. And honestly, he talks ways I just don't feel are right, ways that I would never dare speak.

But anyway, I'm getting off track. What I'm trying to say is that.........It's extremely hard to explain.

Oh well, here I go.

Go back to this sentence-

"I guess I'd forgotten how glorious a friendship can be."

I've seen all these people at school interacting with each other, and I wished I could do that. I do talk a lot and make comments out loud, and it's not like I've been totally alone in school, but I'd never had a one-on-one conversation for very long, and when I did, I was very...closed on my part. I wanted to form more friendships, friendships that were made within the school, not at Kaysville Junior (Austin) or Layton High (Tyler.) I wished for that but never had the guts to try and get it. And now that I have, I'm so grateful I did, because I befriended a group of great people. Thank-you all for being a friend. In return, I promise to do the same.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Venture Academy- Can't Live With It, Can't Live Without It.

(Warning- Anyone who went to Venture Academy and is reading this should know that although I'm being a little mean, I'm being honest. If a teacher is reading this, then I'm sorry to be so harsh, I'm sure you'll teach better throughout the years. If you taught English, then you're the exception. You were the best English teacher ever and you'll still improve!)

I moved to Kaysville right before I entered the seventh grade, but I wasn't going to go to Fairfield. I was going to the new charter school in Ogden- Venture Academy. The school was in Michigan too and even the former principal was coming here. It seemed like a great opportunity to a higher education.

By third term, I was a Fairfield Falcon.

This school was horrible on so many levels. So many, in fact, it's hard to say how many with just a single sentence. I have to in fine detail, starting with-

Science. If you asked me today what I learned in seventh grade at Venture, I couldn't tell you. I remember watching parts of the movie "Core," (awesome movie!) and I could also tell you that we were starting physics when I dropped out, but that's all. Two terms and I retained NOTHING! It was like grade-school science I think. We would jump all over the place in science, but we wouldn't learn enough.

An elective we took during the semester was anatomy. I know this isn't a core class, but it was taught by the same teacher. Now, I'm not saying she's a terrible teacher, but personally, I believe Mrs.Nelson was WAAAAY more experienced than her. (One reason being she's taught longer- I think.) As for the anatomy class, I can't blame her at all really. This is because the class she was trying to teach was a living Hell. It seemed as if all the worst kids in the school were dumped here and only three of us out of twenty-five were good. Just what did this class do to my poor science teacher every day? EVERYTHING! They talked to no end. They disrespected property, they didn't listen, they, they...man, they did so much, I feel a little overwhelmed just trying to describe it. The main point though was that they disrespected the teacher and drove her into insanity. She yelled a lot. I mean, it's like they had no respect for her. She had these reptile bodies soaking in oil, which probably cost a lot to buy. Well, this kid kept rolling one around the table, and on the first day, they were leaking. They got out of their seats and didn't give a care to what the teacher told them. We barely did any assignments. They used the computers for game usage. The list goes on and on and on and on. So, do I blame the teacher for my poor education? No, I absolutely do not.  It's not her fault that the kids were all jerks. Also, in her other classes, she had to take away every single article of supplies from the desks. People would rub their rulers against desks, make them super-hot, and burn each other with them. I'm not quite sure what they did with the markers, crayons, scissors, and glue-sticks, but they all got taken away. So in other words, it was the students fault for what happened, not my science teacher's.

Next is my math class. I was put in the easy class because I was apparently told to be in it. Clearly, it wasn't sufficient. I had almost no homework and when I did, it was EXTREMELY short and easy. I eventually got put in a "higher" class, but it was still easy. And I actually left shortly after, so it didn't matter anyway.

History was a little weird. We alternated with science and history every other term, so when I had science, I didn't have history and vice-versa. The teacher was a very friendly teacher, but I didn't agree with his style of teaching. He first had us do a "create your own colony" assignment which didn't really teach us about actually history, but rather a way to punish a thief in the most painful and torturous of ways. We then jumped right in to the Boston masquer. We didn't learn about anything else before, which was a bad decision in my opinion.

Let's see... ah, band! A fabulous class. Our teacher was the principal's wife, and she knew how to conduct and teach us. Art was fine. We also had a mythology class which was taught by the history teacher. (It wasn't that informative, but I did discover Monty Python and the Holy Grail.) In addition, we had a homeroom class that wasn't really homeroom and a certain all week event. And of course their's a lot of stuff that I want to discuss, but these are for another post.

Right now, I want to talk about all the good stuff that came out of going to Venture. This can be said in one word-

English.

I was in the best English class I have ever been in. I'm sorry if this breaks the heart of other English teachers, but Mrs.Malloy was the best English teacher EVER! She taught us how to proofread, first off all. She taught us how to correct and edit writing. She taught us how to write an effective essay, and she made us write every day. In other words, I credit her the most for creating my love and talent for writing. She also taught us how to analyze a book. We chose a selection of books on utopias. Mine was, by suggestion from my mom, "Fahrenheit 451." She got me interested in him because of the work I did on that book. We did some serious analysis, a whole packet even. She made us look deep into the message, and I can probably even credit her for rooting some of the interest of song analysis to her. She made us write an essay on utopias, and she made us do like, SIX EDITS! She taught me how to make something grand, not just acceptable or even good. She was also one of my most favorite teacher because of the person she was. She knew how to teach AND be kind and helpful at the same time. She took the time to really teach us, and I'm in her debt. (I better remember that for the future...or for when I'm in Heaven.)

Mr. Herringa was also good in having us read the wave. I was a little sad to find I wouldn't be in Mrs. Maloy's class that term, but oh well. He was a great teacher.

So, there you have it. That is how my life of writing really got started as I see it.

For future posts, I think I'll talk more about Venture.

See ya people next week! (I'll be on a road trip, so if I don't read your posts, that's why.)