behold, a post!

I have not written on this blog in over a year. I apologize for the long silence.

The reasons are simple, if a bit over-used and excuse like in nature. I will not claim I was too busy to post, or that I have had so much writing to do off the blog that I did not have the energy to come up with something else for here. I have not. My writing last year was minimal for school, and over the summer I did basically none.

Try as I might, I could not have ideas for topics. This is always my problem. That is why I like school so much: it gives me information and instructs me to compile it with some stuff of my own in a paper. Under the guidelines of assignment requirements, my technical writing skill and word creativity flourish.

Nothing excites my brain like fixing grammar, and exchanging over-used and weak words for stronger, more interesting ones. I love to walk through a sentence and figure out how to strengthen it and clarify its meaning. I enjoy changing words in hopes that my reader will catch my interest and want to keep reading.

Last year, none of my classes except my writing class assigned papers. In my writing class, we did not read or study anything except how to write, and my teacher did not assign topics. This made the class extremely difficult for me, and highlighted clearly for me that my major weakness came from a lack of ideas. By the end of the class, I hated writing and forgot why I ever thought I loved it. I just wanted to turn in my weekly assignments and be done.

All summer I did not write. I tried occasionally, but nothing came of it. I still lacked ideas, and without purpose there could be no words. Although life seemed normal enough, I knew I was losing my skill for lack of practice, and I felt a deeper loss from having no creative outlet. I cannot draw or play music or anything else artistic, and my creativity is minimal, making writing the only thing I have.

I started college a little less than a month ago, and I turned in my first college essay today. At first the task of writing scared me because I have had so little success the past several months. But as I sat there answering the questions in the assignment, something happened. I woke up. Everything around me came alive again. I wanted to communicate. I wanted to see things and write about them. I wanted to use words, and use them well.

This wish to learn and create and write has stuck with me all day. I do not see how I went so long without writing, and I hope I do not let it happen again. But topics are still my weak point, and that is where this blog comes in.

Your turn: if anyone still reads this thing, and I don't blame you if you stopped during my long unexplained absence, post in the comments something you want me to write about. I make no time frame promises, but I will try to get to everything as I  can. And I will try not to randomly disappear for months upon months without warning.

If nobody comments anything, I'll just keep doing school assignments and whatever nonsense my brain can cough up, but my writing really is much better when it has good ideas behind it.

Well, that's about it. Have an excellent weekend and I hope to see responses! =)


Happily writing again,
Kristin

in which I share an essay and give a plan of action

Greetings friendly readers of my blog!

I am sorry that I have taken such a long break since my last post. Sadly, it will probably be a long time before I post the next part of my story because I have reached another mental block where I completely hate it and feel like deleting everything. Rest assured I will not delete it, but I must let it sit for a while until I can revise it constructively.

In other news, I have decided to post my thoughts on random things for the next bit of time while I try to figure out what exactly to focus on in my blog. Expect to see more posts than recently (not too hard to imagine) and probably of differing styles as I will be experimenting like crazy!

Furthermore, I plan on posting some of my essays that I do for my writing class whenever I have or choose a topic of interest that turns into a halfway satisfying essay. Below is my most recently finished assignment in which I discuss one of my favorite pastimes. Enjoy!

Soli Deo Gloria,

Kristin

Daily Dance

At the threshold between the dining room and the kitchen, a young girl watches her family in awe. Dinner has ended and her older siblings move smoothly about in swift practiced maneuvers which bring brothers and sisters on crossing paths without collision. As the routine continues, the little girl pays close attention to everything knowing that someday soon, she too will help with the cleansing of the kitchen. Once they have put away the food and filled the dish washing machine, the real fun begins: hand washing dishes. More than just a necessary part of keeping a clean house, dish washing also helps the people who do it physically, relationally, and mentally.

Washing large dishes by hand benefits both the dishes and the person washing them. Many pots and pans do not fit in dishwashers, and even some dishes that do fit fade or bend out of shape in the high temperatures of the machine's cycles. By hand washing these dishes, a person can know for certain that the dishes will get clean with minimal damage. Benefits from this task expand beyond the preservation of the dishes: by immersing both hands in hot water multiple times a week, a person develops heat resistance which can prove useful outside the kitchen. For example, in my chemistry class last year I needed to move glass beakers with various fluids many times. Often the beaker had recently contained boiling water which heated the glass; one time other students had all the hot pads and I needed to move the beaker before everything inside burned and ruined the experiment. Because I had trained my hands to handle warmer dishes I could grab the beaker for a few seconds without dropping or spilling it and continued my experiment.

Due to the simplicity of the task, washing dishes alone gives the person a chance to think freely. For one thing, scrubbing dishes does not require much thought so instead of needing to focus on something specific for a bit of time students, parents, or whoever washes the dishes has a chance to think without any specific requirements. Personally many of my favorite writing projects began while I thought about anything random that came to mind while washing dishes. This task does more than free the mind though: the physical activity of scraping and scrubbing at the dirty dishes gets the blood flowing better throughout a persons whole body including the brain. Sitting somewhere just to think can give a certain amount of freedom to the brain, but not the same way as healthy exercise combined with freedom; these together make the perfect combination for contemplation and creativity.

People can enjoy cleaning dishes with others just as well as alone. For one thing, the task divides nicely between two or more people. After years of practice, my older brother and I have a perfectly synchronized routine where he washes dishes in the left of our double sink, sets them in the right sink to drip; from there I dry them and put them away. Often he can wash faster than I can try and place, so if his girlfriend visits and wants to help the two of us can dry without conflict. Because the task does not require words, we use this time for various forms of conversation: everything from mocking songs on the radio to debating what the Bible says about angels. Many of my favorite memories with my siblings took place in the kitchen with a red dish towel in my hand.

Possibly one of the best parts of cleaning dishes, finishing the job leaves the workers with the satisfying knowledge that they have accomplished something. Many things in life give less than solid results. Whether a school assignment or a work project, the daily activities of middle class families often leave a person wondering how the task turned out or if they might have done it better. Dishes, on the other hand, have two modes: clean and dirty. In a couple of hours or fewer, one person can transform counters with piles of dirty dishes into a sparkling room without a smudge in sight. This simple fact of having accomplished something often gives me a much needed break from my other work and allows me to return with a fresh perspective.

Society has lost sight of the value of simple, hard work. In a world where efficiency and machines have become the most important priority, many people forget the value of menial tasks. I freely admit that dishwashers often do a more thorough job of washing small dishes and flatware. But I feel no loss regarding the bigger items that cannot survive the machine's cycles. If not for those items, I would lose much satisfaction as well as time with my family and thoughts.

Chapter 2

Magical. Though a tremendous understatement of the ride Meredith gave them, it was the closest adjective Jacob could ever seem to come up with. Whether shooting straight up into the air, diving with folded wings, spiraling over the rivers and hills, valleys and forests that made up the country, Meredith maintained a smooth, swift gait. Crisp air rushed past them so fast their faces tugged up as they swooped down into a valley. So fast did they dive that although Jacob tried to close his eyes to keep out any debris, his lids lacked the strength necessary to push past the up-rushing wind.

After several minutes of flying wherever the whim of Meredith or Annie would take them, Jacob noticed a change in his companions as they began practicing routines. Every year, the village held a three day festival where the people celebrated their crops, freedom, and alliance with the dragons. During this festival, different departments of the small defense force would compete against each other in various challenges of skill, speed, strength, and wit. This would be the first year that Meredith and Annie could compete, and in preparation for the challenges, they practiced difficult maneuvers in what they referred to as “trick routines.”

Suddenly, as she was coming out of a spiraling sideways loop, Meredith's body stiffened and her wings beat with a different purpose. Troubled by the dragon's abrupt change of manner, Annie glanced around them in all directions for a threat. Although she saw nothing, Annie knew something about the area had changed in the last few minutes. “Get us out of here calmly, Merey,” Annie whispered, “we might be running from shadows, but better safe than sorry.” Meredith accordingly turned for home and flew as fast as she could in that direction. As they hurried directly for home Meredith suddenly let out a quiet, low moan: a warning to Annie. Heeding her friend's unease, Annie scanned the sky again; this time she caught a brief glimpse of deep red which disappeared in a storm cloud a good distance behind them.

“What's going on?” Jacob asked in a low voice, sensing Annie's extreme concern and Meredith's borderline panic. “Why is Merey so tense?” Annie took her eyes off the sky briefly to judge the fear level of her passenger. His eyes were wide open and his grip on the dragon's neck was tight, but he might get much worse if he knew how bad was the danger in the sky. Still, if the thing was a red dragon, and it was after them, the shock of it charging them might be worse if he did not expect it at all.

“We aren't alone in the sky, Jacob.” Annie watched him closely as she spoke, careful of how much information to give him. “I don't know if it's a dragon or not, but it is not the same color as any of our allies. We are trying to go home without any trouble, so be as quiet as you can and hold on tight. Merey will get us home, don't worry.” As she spoke these reassuring words, Annie could not help grimacing at how empty they sounded. How could she have been so stupid: taking a young boy out when she knew the fishermen last month had seen a dangerous red dragon by a neighboring village? How could she have brought him out here without being completely sure it was safe? If he died....

No, he would not die. Annie and Meredith were going to take him home. The dragon—for it was a dragon—appeared from another thick cloud, closer than before.

So several minutes passed: the dragon would disappear into the clouds only to reappear closer not long after. Before long he no longer vanished in the clouds, but flew steadily to the left and slightly above Meredith a few wing strokes behind her. With this superior flight path, he could easily outdistance Meredith's endurance; they must come up with an escape plan quickly.

Changing direction might help, short term at least. But Meredith already showed signs of fatigue, and the Red One could probably beat her in speed as easily as in distance. Perhaps they could turn and fight then? Even if they had not just put themselves through an exhausting practice, Annie and Meredith could probably not even come close against a red dragon with fire capabilities.

The red one moved in closer. Any moment now and he would make his move. Annie needed to make hers first, in a moment of sudden decisiveness she told Jacob to hold tight to the leather strap and not let go no matter what. Carefully she shifted back on Meredith. In combat training, they had practiced this move many times. The idea was that with some help from Meredith Annie could leap a short distance to an enemy dragon and fight him at close quarters where he could use neither claws nor fire. In practice against the defense force it seemed to work pretty well, but they had never tried it in actual danger. Annie, drawing her dagger, paid close attention to the rhythm of Meredith's wings and carefully rose to her feet. She bent her knees, whistled the signal, and on the next down-stroke made her leap.

She landed too far down his back, and before she could thrust her dagger into his neck where the scales were softest, he snapped his head back hitting her solidly with one of his dull spikes. Annie faintly heard herself yelling to Meredith to fly on without her, then everything went black.

The end of the beginning

Greetings to all!

Today I speculate on a topic which, although a blessing, often seems more of a curse. It swallows time, it exhausts the brain, it drags its victims from their fun activities, and oppresses them with tasks of its own. Yes this thing....this terrifying, energy consuming thing....

is often called: School.

 I enter this school year with mixed feelings, as usual. School brings with it interesting reading material, mathematical facts that I would have never figured out on my own. I get to see on a weekly basis some friends of mine that I only see in classes and therefore have spent the entire summer without seeing them. Education brings guidelines for how to improve skills, many of which will prove extremely useful later in life.

But still....
School means several fewer hours of reading Oliver Twist. It means responsibilities and limitations that have not been in place for the past few months during the summer break. Instead of reading for several hours, then doing some chores, and just taking things as they come with plenty time for contemplation; deadlines, tests, and confused study bring structure to a student's daily life.

Welcome senior year of highschool! I know you will be challenging, but I look forward to the adventure. Between the stress, the material, and the daily devotions, I know I will learn much this last year before college.

On a side note: now that all of my classes have started, I will try to fit regular blogging into my routine. However, for the first month or so posts might be even less frequent than they were during the summer when I had no excuse. My apologies for being so inconsistent. I really do appreciate you reading my random thoughts and ramblings here and will try to act accordingly.

Soli Deo Gloria,
~Kristin

Time: Where Is It Going?

"This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays kings, ruins towns,
And beats high mountains down." {The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien}

My eldest brother got married on Saturday, many of my friends are starting college, and now my senior year of highschool has begun. So many changes! No way we're all this old. 

Those of you who have older siblings probably know what I mean when I say that taking classes that I remember my older siblings taking is so weird. They were so mature, so smart, so grown up...they couldn't possibly have been the same age I am!

Is all this weird for anyone else, or am I just strange? :P Comments make my day!

In other news, I've finally made a deal with the characters in my story who were giving me problems, so the next few chapters are happily under construction. I hope to post the next chapter before the end of the month. 

Soli Deo Gloria,
~Kristin

A Not So New Obsession

Language, grammar, organization. Words. As I have been preparing for school and cleaning my room this last week, I have needed to reorganize my books. Is it strange that I bought a twenty year old unabridged dictionary when I saw it for five dollars? Or that a pocket Merriam-Webster Dictionary lives in my backpack and my desk? Not to mention the rhyming dictionary and the dictionary/thesaurus on my bookshelf. For some reason grammar, languages, and words in general have always fascinated me.

What about you? Does anyone else keep a potentially ridiculous number of dictionaries around? What about pick up a grammar manual and get so caught up in it that you lose track of time? I like comments  and hope to hear from you!

Soli Deo Gloria,

~Kristin

Note: all pictures were taken by me with my camera. I have not stolen them from anywhere :P

Explanations, Plans, Apologies, and More

 Happy Monday! 

The title neatly lays everything out, so I think I'll do things in that order.

Excuses:

Since my characters are giving me trouble, my SAT prep is a bit time-consuming, and I have completely lost track of time many times in Moby Dick or Oliver Twist, the next chapter of my story has not made very good progress. Even worse, I have neglected my blog and left you all with nothing to read.

Plans:

I am currently working on two posts: one of them is the second chapter to the story I posted in my last post, and the other is a response to a post by a fellow blogger.

Apologies:

Sorry for the tremendous gap between the last post and this one, I could have at least given you some sort of a writing update!

More:

Hmm...it would be rude to leave you with nothing but excuses, apologies, and plans, wouldn't it? Well, I cannot give you any good writing from my recent work, but I can give you a story I wrote last summer for a writing class I took. We were told to choose a well known fairy tale or nursery rhyme, and rewrite it from an unusual perspective. Enjoy!

Soli Deo Gloria,

~Kristin

Trial of the Hag

“Miss Hagella will now come to the stand. Tell the jury what happened deep in the Forest on the day in question.” The witch calmly responded with her story:

“You should first understand that life has not treated me well. And so I found myself living in the woods with nothing but my stove, broom, and baking supplies. I did what any skilled baker would do: I set to work baking large sheets of gingerbread and made myself a house. Not the most weather-proof shelter as one might expect, but it kept out most of the rain. Piece by piece I added to it: decorated it with candy, water-proofed it with icing, added gutters and windows; pretty soon I had a nice little cottage that only needed a few daily repairs. Fate seemed to smile on me for the first time in years, until that dreadful morning.

“Yes, one morning when I woke the sun already shone through my sparkly sugar-windows. A strange sound, such as I had not heard in years drifted to me with the wind. Voices? 'I must be crazy!' I thought to myself. 'Surely nobody would wander this far into the woods!' I opened the door a crack and peeked out, sure enough two children danced about, laughing to each other. I smiled, remembering the old days when I regularly saw other people, happy people; but then I saw what pleased them! My house, my beautiful house! Those greedy children were yanking down my shutters, pulling off my decorations! My little side door with the licorice and caramel-apple knocker, gone! Before my very eyes they yanked out my windows and devoured them! Certainly I could not let this vandalism continue. I quickly formed my plan: I would cage them, only for a short while, so I could repair my house. Then I would bake something for them to eat, as apparently they possessed good appetites in order to produce such damage.

“I leaned out and called to them. They stared at me for a minute, I dare say they had reason! Could anybody live in the woods without proper soap or new clothes and maintain a child-friendly appearance? Truly, I had become a rough looking person, but my words and voice eventually charmed them inside. I penned the children into a corner with my heaviest candy-canes, hoping that would contain them long enough for my repairs and baking. It did not. The oven heated, and I bent over to put in my new shutters, when I felt two small pairs of hands shove me. I lost my balance and fell head first into the oven! They slammed it shut behind me, bent on baking me! With my legs I pushed against the oven door, but they leaned against it, gleefully 'taking care of the mean old witch!'

“Fortunately, witches have quick minds and high heat tolerance, while children have short attentions spans. It occurred to me to lie still, so that they would believe I had died and would leave. My plan worked, and I escaped, but only after suffering severe burns, and losing everything I owned! There was no time for me to pack supplies, I could not even grab my broom! In such an unprepared and hurried manner I fled those who tried to take my life, and sought refuge further in among the trees.

Eventually I found a stream, and followed it until I came to a path. Despite my independent nature, I knew I could not proceed without provisions, so I journeyed for several days. At last I reached a town, starving and thirsty I went to the first building I saw and knocked upon the door; out stepped a police officer who arrested me on the spot for child abuse and attempted murder! Apparently those brats told their parents that I caged them and intended to bake them. Me! The outcast who wanted only to live in peace! If those children are not punished for their vandalism, their theft, and attempting to murder me, while I rot in prison for crimes I did not commit, then justice does not prevail! Your honor, I beg of you, do not sentence a poor, innocent woman to a sentence she does not deserve. Please!”

Now that both sides of the story are known, which party wronged the other? Did Hansel and Gretel truly act in self-defense, or did they attempt murder? Judge well, your honor.