Title[less]
Rochelle laid on her bed in silence reflecting on her current situation. It was 12:35am on a Saturday morning. She just could not fathom what had happened to her only 8 hours before. Her heart had been torn straight from the center of her body. Essentially, she felt as if her entire internal structure had imploded.
Over and over Rochelle kept repeating the events in her head. Normally, a concept is easy for her to grasp but this one was just too much. There was nothing logical about it, there was nothing to think through. What happened, happened. There is no way to change past events. There is no possible way for her to get him back.
Rochelle couldn’t help but think about the day before. She had been wandering around her neighborhood in Essex, Vermont. From time to time she would grab her sketchbook and find anything beautiful in the area so that the image could forever be burnt into her memory. She appreciated the small, simple things around her. Ancient trees, sunny skies, and even that one old couple that she always finds in the park. They sit silently on the bench overlooking a large pond, always grasping hands, eyes burning with the love and passion of 60 long years. The Liebers, as Rochelle called them, were her unknowing models. Always, she would find them on that bench and she would sketch something new each time. All she wanted was to be like the Liebers; she wanted to fall deeply in love with someone, someone to spend her life with. She believed she had found him.
Rochelle and Alex had been together for three years and they were deeply in love. Alex had even given Rochelle a promise ring. He swore his heart to her, as did she hers to him. While at the park watching the Liebers she began to stare at that beautiful golden band around her finger, deciphering the meaning behind it, dissecting every possible reason as to why she deserved such a gift. Such a meaningful promise.
She was meant to meet up with Alex that night right there in the park after the Liebers were gone. They were to meet right at the bench overlooking the pond. At first Alex seemed fine. He was joking and laughing with Rochelle. It was like any other day. He hugged on her, he kissed her.. He made her feel like she was the most beautiful girl in on the planet; He called her a southern belle. Everything seemed perfect.. Then, Alex changed. He stopped talking and scared Rochelle to death.
“Im Sorry Chell, I just cant do this anymore. I’m so sorry. It just.. Wont work. I cant be tied down like this. I’m 17 years old, I cant worry about the woman I’m going to marry. I can worry about the rest of my life. I need to worry about the present…”
The words spewing from his lips were like 1000 small daggers piercing through her heart at immense speeds. She couldn’t focus on anything all she could think of was why. “Why would he do this. How could he do this. He swore to me, he wanted to marry me. How could he hurt me so.. After everything we’ve been through. He was my comfort. He was my suit of armor. He was my escape. My salvation…”
“Rochelle.. I still love you.. I love you. That can’t just disappear. I just cant be with you. I’m sorry Chellie..”
That was it.. Rochelle broke down. She felt as if a bomb had gone off in her brain, reducing her entire body to nothing but a gelatinous mess on the ground. There was nothing for her to do. She broke down, and he walked away.
Laying there in her bed now at 1:30am Rochelle couldn’t handle it anymore. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She broke down crying endless rivers of tears that sprawled out and enveloped her entire body. It was impossible for her to stop. When ever she would try, the tears would come out even stronger, like whiplash. 2:30, 3:30. The hours flew by like minutes. All Rochelle could do was lay there curled in her bed sobbing like a child who just lost their first pet. Finally at 4:30 with her favorite teddy in hand she drifted off to sleep.
For the next few days all Rochelle could think about was him, and what happened. She could barely function. For days, she was a recluse. She wouldn’t speak and she couldn’t eat. It made her nauseous. To Rochelle her stomach felt as if there were hundreds of needles poking at its lining. The lack of food hurt less than the stabbing pains of the needles..
Back to school. It was such a hellish place. Day in and day out Rochelle had to bear seeing Alex over and over. She tried to speak to him, they swore to be friends. They swore to be close. All he seemed to do was look away. That’s all he seemed to be capable of. It didn’t make any sense . None of it did.
[this isn't done yet! >.< i couldn't figure the rest yet :( ]
Friday, May 29, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
The Other Wife pg 1. Change of Perspective
As we walked into the restaurant the maitre'd suggested a fine spot to sit right next to the window. It looked beautiful and I really wanted to sit there.
"Come on Marc, It'll be like having lunch on a boat on the water.." I was heading over towards the window when suddenly Marc tightened his grip on my arm severely. It was frightening in a way. Never have I felt him grip me so hard. So just as he had wanted we walked over to the middle of the room in the center of all the people. I was a bit uncomfortable but Marc wanted that so, of course I listened.
"I'll tell you darling. Let me order lunch first. Would you like the shrimp? Or the eggs in aspic?" He was smiling at me in such a way that I couldn't disagree.
"Whatever you like, you know that."
I let him order my food for me. Again. But i suppose thats ok. Afterall, he is my man and I need to do what he wants. After ordering Marc looked at me with those big eyes of his; I was completely infatuated. Then he commenced to tell me that i had put on weight! Ha! How rude! But, i can't say anything to him about it. He would get angry with me and in the middle of a restaurant.. That wouldn't be the best thing.
"Why did you keep me from taking the place next to the window" I asked Marc. It was quite frustrating. Apparently, We were about to sit next to is ex wife. I had never met her before but I feel that she knew who I was. She was watching us and I just tried to avoid her eyes. I had no idea what to think.. Just fifteen months aggo she had been my husband's wife.
"Come on Marc, It'll be like having lunch on a boat on the water.." I was heading over towards the window when suddenly Marc tightened his grip on my arm severely. It was frightening in a way. Never have I felt him grip me so hard. So just as he had wanted we walked over to the middle of the room in the center of all the people. I was a bit uncomfortable but Marc wanted that so, of course I listened.
"I'll tell you darling. Let me order lunch first. Would you like the shrimp? Or the eggs in aspic?" He was smiling at me in such a way that I couldn't disagree.
"Whatever you like, you know that."
I let him order my food for me. Again. But i suppose thats ok. Afterall, he is my man and I need to do what he wants. After ordering Marc looked at me with those big eyes of his; I was completely infatuated. Then he commenced to tell me that i had put on weight! Ha! How rude! But, i can't say anything to him about it. He would get angry with me and in the middle of a restaurant.. That wouldn't be the best thing.
"Why did you keep me from taking the place next to the window" I asked Marc. It was quite frustrating. Apparently, We were about to sit next to is ex wife. I had never met her before but I feel that she knew who I was. She was watching us and I just tried to avoid her eyes. I had no idea what to think.. Just fifteen months aggo she had been my husband's wife.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Theme Changes
There really is not much that I could chance in my theme at all. I was really quite content with how i wrote and my sort of 'style' so, i just decided to stick with it.
In his comment, Joe mentioned that my introduction was just a little bit choppy and confusing so. I attempted to straighten it (along with some other parts in the story) out. After all, the story needs to make sense.
Aside from following that little bit of advice from Joe, I decided that a lot of the detaiols are mentioned and occur just int he way they were chrased so.. I think it'll be ok.
In his comment, Joe mentioned that my introduction was just a little bit choppy and confusing so. I attempted to straighten it (along with some other parts in the story) out. After all, the story needs to make sense.
Aside from following that little bit of advice from Joe, I decided that a lot of the detaiols are mentioned and occur just int he way they were chrased so.. I think it'll be ok.
Theme #7
Amber Pokorney
Theme #7
Art Show/Honors Art
It is that time of year again, the middle of May. My birthday is coming up and so is my other favorite event. The district art show. This year, is a special one to me though; I’m turning 16 and, I’m in honors art with Mr. Miller. It may seem strange but, I am more excited about the show than my birthday. I have been waiting 10 years, since kindergarten, for this very May.
I had just moved here away from my family and best friend in Florida in February, 1998. By the time May came around I was so excited that I would be turning six years old. After all, once you hit that point you’re totally a big kid right. For my birthday I had a Sailormoon themed party and my grandma bought me one of those cool translucent gameboys. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, especially with the addition of Pokemon Red for me to play.
Only a few days later my grandmother decided to take me over to the high school to see the art show. She knew how much I loved art even at that young age so, she felt it would be a wonderful thing for me. I was as excited as a six year old could be when she told me we were going. The show was in the high school, like it still is, and being so young my imagination went wild when we got there. The school was monstrous in size I though and all of the ‘big highschoolers’ looked like grown-ups to me.
Right as we go to the show I took off down the stairwell in the circle gym to these gargantuan panels at the far side of the floor. I knew the work over there was done by all of the high school art students. It was so strange over there though; there were no other little kids like me. Everyone analyzing the high school work was so much bigger than me. All of the other children seemed frightened to go over there. I don’t blame them though; some of the work was pretty intense. But none of the work frightened me; I was completely enthralled by it. All I wanted was to be a part of it.
The show ran for two days (just as it still does now) so, I even had my grandmother take me back the following evening just so I could see all of the artwork again. This time, I paid closer attention to detail and I started to notice that each panel had a sketchbook in front of it. Being a curious little kid, I started looking through every last one. Some of them were colorful and cheery while other, were dark and covered in broken glass or mirror shards. It still didn’t frighten me; it was even more alluring the second time around.
While I was standing there completely enveloped by colors, textures, and patterns of all the art I came to the realization that, I wanted to be one of those ‘big art kids’. Because of my slight eavesdrooping I learned that the art teacher's name was Mr. David Miller and that I would need to be a sophomore to take his class and earn a panel of my own.
Since that first art show in kindergarten I’ve been waiting patiently in anticipation for my sophomore year to come. Now, that year is coming to an end and the show is in roughly two weeks. Over the course of this school year I have been buzzing around like a worker bee; stressing and creating some art work that I am extremely proud of. Of course, I am not happy with everything that I have done this year but, what artist truly is? If an artist was to be completely content with all of his work, he would not be much of an artist at all. It is natural for an artist to be unhappy with the work he has produced and, I fall into the category of artists who feel that way. But, as stated by Sol Lewitt in his ‘Sentences on Conceptual Art’, “Perception is subjective.” Even though an artist may hate their own work another being may find it to be completely astounding and thought provoking. It all depends on your perspective.
Right now, I am stressing and these next two weeks are probably the most important for me this year. I need to crank out some of the best work that I can in order to prove myself to Mr. Miller. I have worked as hard as possible this year to reach the goal I have had for 10 years. In the Wissahickon Art Show, honors art students are given anywhere from one half to three panels in the show to display their work. I am aiming for two. This year, I have reached my goal. This year, it’s finally my turn to shine.
Theme #7
Art Show/Honors Art
It is that time of year again, the middle of May. My birthday is coming up and so is my other favorite event. The district art show. This year, is a special one to me though; I’m turning 16 and, I’m in honors art with Mr. Miller. It may seem strange but, I am more excited about the show than my birthday. I have been waiting 10 years, since kindergarten, for this very May.
I had just moved here away from my family and best friend in Florida in February, 1998. By the time May came around I was so excited that I would be turning six years old. After all, once you hit that point you’re totally a big kid right. For my birthday I had a Sailormoon themed party and my grandma bought me one of those cool translucent gameboys. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, especially with the addition of Pokemon Red for me to play.
Only a few days later my grandmother decided to take me over to the high school to see the art show. She knew how much I loved art even at that young age so, she felt it would be a wonderful thing for me. I was as excited as a six year old could be when she told me we were going. The show was in the high school, like it still is, and being so young my imagination went wild when we got there. The school was monstrous in size I though and all of the ‘big highschoolers’ looked like grown-ups to me.
Right as we go to the show I took off down the stairwell in the circle gym to these gargantuan panels at the far side of the floor. I knew the work over there was done by all of the high school art students. It was so strange over there though; there were no other little kids like me. Everyone analyzing the high school work was so much bigger than me. All of the other children seemed frightened to go over there. I don’t blame them though; some of the work was pretty intense. But none of the work frightened me; I was completely enthralled by it. All I wanted was to be a part of it.
The show ran for two days (just as it still does now) so, I even had my grandmother take me back the following evening just so I could see all of the artwork again. This time, I paid closer attention to detail and I started to notice that each panel had a sketchbook in front of it. Being a curious little kid, I started looking through every last one. Some of them were colorful and cheery while other, were dark and covered in broken glass or mirror shards. It still didn’t frighten me; it was even more alluring the second time around.
While I was standing there completely enveloped by colors, textures, and patterns of all the art I came to the realization that, I wanted to be one of those ‘big art kids’. Because of my slight eavesdrooping I learned that the art teacher's name was Mr. David Miller and that I would need to be a sophomore to take his class and earn a panel of my own.
Since that first art show in kindergarten I’ve been waiting patiently in anticipation for my sophomore year to come. Now, that year is coming to an end and the show is in roughly two weeks. Over the course of this school year I have been buzzing around like a worker bee; stressing and creating some art work that I am extremely proud of. Of course, I am not happy with everything that I have done this year but, what artist truly is? If an artist was to be completely content with all of his work, he would not be much of an artist at all. It is natural for an artist to be unhappy with the work he has produced and, I fall into the category of artists who feel that way. But, as stated by Sol Lewitt in his ‘Sentences on Conceptual Art’, “Perception is subjective.” Even though an artist may hate their own work another being may find it to be completely astounding and thought provoking. It all depends on your perspective.
Right now, I am stressing and these next two weeks are probably the most important for me this year. I need to crank out some of the best work that I can in order to prove myself to Mr. Miller. I have worked as hard as possible this year to reach the goal I have had for 10 years. In the Wissahickon Art Show, honors art students are given anywhere from one half to three panels in the show to display their work. I am aiming for two. This year, I have reached my goal. This year, it’s finally my turn to shine.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Theme #7 -- sorry! No title yet!
Amber Pokorney
Theme #7
Art Show/Honors Art
It is that time of year again, the middle of May; The time of my birthday, and also the Art Show. This year, is a special one to me though; I’m turning 16 and, I’m in honors art with Mr. Miller. It may seem strange but, I am more excited about the show than my birthday. I have been waiting 10 years, since kindergarten, for this very year.
I had just moved here away from my family and best friend in Florida, February, 1998. By the time May came around I was so excited that I would be turning six years old. After all, once you hit that point you’re totally a big kid right. For my birthday I had a Sailormoon themed party and my grandma bought me one of those cool translucent gameboys. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, especially with the addition of Pokemon Red for me to play.
Only a few days later my grandmother decided to take me over to the high school to see the art show. She knew how much I loved art even at that young age so, she felt it would be a wonderful thing for me. I was as excited as a six year old could be when she told me we were going. The show was in the high school, like it still is, and being so young my imagination went wild when we got there. The school was monstrous in size I though and all of the ‘big highschoolers’ looked like grown-ups to me.
Right as we go to the show I took off down the stairwell in the circle gym to these gargantuan panels at the far side of the floor. I knew the work over there was done by all of the high school art students. It was so strange over there though; there were no other little kids like me. Everyone analyzing the high school work was so much bigger than me. All of the other children seemed frightened to go over there. I don’t blame them though; some of the work was pretty intense. But none of the work frightened me; I was completely enthralled by it. All I wanted was to be a part of it.
The show runs for two days so, I even had my grandmother take me back the following evening just so I could see all of the artwork again. This time, I paid closer attention to detail and I started to notice that each panel had a sketchbook in front of it. Being a curious little kid, I started looking through every last one. Some of them were colorful and cheery while other, were dark and covered in broken glass or mirror shards. It still didn’t frighten me; it was even more alluring the second time around.
While I was standing there completely enveloped by colors, textures, and patterns of all the art I came to the realization that, I wanted to be one of those ‘big art kids’. From hearing people speaking at the show I learned that the teacher’s name was Mr. Miller and that I would need to be a sophomore to take his class and earn a panel of my own.
Since that first art show in kindergarten I’ve been waiting patiently in anticipation for my sophomore year to come. Now, that year is coming to an end and the show is in roughly two weeks. Over the course of this school year I have been buzzing around like a worker bee; stressing and creating some art work that I am extremely proud of. Of course, I am not happy with everything that I have done this year but, what artist truly is? If an artist was to be completely content with all of his work, he would not be much of an artist at all. It is natural for an artist to be unhappy with the work he has produced and, I fall into the category of artists who feel that way. But, as stated by Sol Lewitt in his ‘Sentences on Conceptual Art’, “Perception is subjective.” Even though an artist may hate their own work another being may find it to be completely astounding and thought provoking. It all depends on your perspective.
Right now, I am stressing and these next two weeks are probably the most important for me this year. I need to crank out some of the best work that I can in order to prove myself to Mr. Miller. I have worked as hard as possible this year to reach the goal I have had for 10 years. In the Wissahickon Art Show, honors art students are given anywhere from one half to three panels in the show to display their work. I am aiming for two. This year, I have reached my goal. This year, it’s finally my turn to shine.
Theme #7
Art Show/Honors Art
It is that time of year again, the middle of May; The time of my birthday, and also the Art Show. This year, is a special one to me though; I’m turning 16 and, I’m in honors art with Mr. Miller. It may seem strange but, I am more excited about the show than my birthday. I have been waiting 10 years, since kindergarten, for this very year.
I had just moved here away from my family and best friend in Florida, February, 1998. By the time May came around I was so excited that I would be turning six years old. After all, once you hit that point you’re totally a big kid right. For my birthday I had a Sailormoon themed party and my grandma bought me one of those cool translucent gameboys. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, especially with the addition of Pokemon Red for me to play.
Only a few days later my grandmother decided to take me over to the high school to see the art show. She knew how much I loved art even at that young age so, she felt it would be a wonderful thing for me. I was as excited as a six year old could be when she told me we were going. The show was in the high school, like it still is, and being so young my imagination went wild when we got there. The school was monstrous in size I though and all of the ‘big highschoolers’ looked like grown-ups to me.
Right as we go to the show I took off down the stairwell in the circle gym to these gargantuan panels at the far side of the floor. I knew the work over there was done by all of the high school art students. It was so strange over there though; there were no other little kids like me. Everyone analyzing the high school work was so much bigger than me. All of the other children seemed frightened to go over there. I don’t blame them though; some of the work was pretty intense. But none of the work frightened me; I was completely enthralled by it. All I wanted was to be a part of it.
The show runs for two days so, I even had my grandmother take me back the following evening just so I could see all of the artwork again. This time, I paid closer attention to detail and I started to notice that each panel had a sketchbook in front of it. Being a curious little kid, I started looking through every last one. Some of them were colorful and cheery while other, were dark and covered in broken glass or mirror shards. It still didn’t frighten me; it was even more alluring the second time around.
While I was standing there completely enveloped by colors, textures, and patterns of all the art I came to the realization that, I wanted to be one of those ‘big art kids’. From hearing people speaking at the show I learned that the teacher’s name was Mr. Miller and that I would need to be a sophomore to take his class and earn a panel of my own.
Since that first art show in kindergarten I’ve been waiting patiently in anticipation for my sophomore year to come. Now, that year is coming to an end and the show is in roughly two weeks. Over the course of this school year I have been buzzing around like a worker bee; stressing and creating some art work that I am extremely proud of. Of course, I am not happy with everything that I have done this year but, what artist truly is? If an artist was to be completely content with all of his work, he would not be much of an artist at all. It is natural for an artist to be unhappy with the work he has produced and, I fall into the category of artists who feel that way. But, as stated by Sol Lewitt in his ‘Sentences on Conceptual Art’, “Perception is subjective.” Even though an artist may hate their own work another being may find it to be completely astounding and thought provoking. It all depends on your perspective.
Right now, I am stressing and these next two weeks are probably the most important for me this year. I need to crank out some of the best work that I can in order to prove myself to Mr. Miller. I have worked as hard as possible this year to reach the goal I have had for 10 years. In the Wissahickon Art Show, honors art students are given anywhere from one half to three panels in the show to display their work. I am aiming for two. This year, I have reached my goal. This year, it’s finally my turn to shine.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)