love, read, write

Thanks to your so-generous help in finding the title of this goal, I haven't come up with one yet.
This year, most of the information will be on a site I created. Writing is different than reading, because you revise your writing, but you don't revise your reading. So I can't post the same story again and again every time I make a change to the writing. It would be hard. So I made an info site, at https://sites.google.com/site/lovereadwriteinfo/ so that you could do a lot of stuff there, where I posted my writing.
In blogger, I found that you couldn't upload any documents, which I find inconvenient, so that is why I made the info site.
If you go to "contact," you can suggest this year's blog goal title.
If you go to "project documents," you can see the latest version of each of my writings.
If you go to "blog," you'll find yourself back here.
If you go to "Journal" you'll find a daily (or almost daily) post on how my blog goal is going.
If you go to "2011 Untitled Tasks" you'll find a list of the stuff I'm doing to achieve my goal.

Thank You and Have A Nice Day.


{^copyright 2010 from Allison Jiang who has come up with it originally from computer screens after you order something online but then she decided to use it on Buzz, Facebook, etc. so now we have copyrighted it into her hands when used in Buzz, Facebook, etc. (other social networks)}

As A.A.Milne writes in The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, "Many happy returns of the day to you."

The New Year of 2011, as the title of this quite important blog post says begins with a rather important resolution.
Perhaps, if you went to last year's 1.1.2010 blog post, I wrote about my first assignment of the year.

Of course, the CoUnTdOwN 4 BoOkS goal that was set for the sole and only year of 2010 (if that makes sense) was to read, at least, 55 books. Of course, it was all calculated when I knew that there were 52 days in a year, and I thought to myself that why not make it just even, round up, just for the sake of it, thinking, it may be a challenge when I read more than one book a week, just 3 books worth, because i'll have a goal that much higher and that much better.
And so here we are, in the new and fresh year of 2011, new resolutions to follow, new rules to make, a fresh start to continue making your new self as you do every year. That means, another goal for this very blog to follow. Yes, indeed, this blog you are reading, unfortunately, must let go of the former goal of CoUnTdOwN 4 BoOkS.

Of course, I might as well continue my CoUnTdOwN 4 BoOkS goal, but then it would be boring, and tiring, and dragging along in my head as some another assignment I dread to do. After all, you can get just a bit sick of things after a while, in this case, a year.

And, I remembered,
Happy Birthday to this Blog.

And, as to continue my wonderful (ahem ahem) speech...
where was I?
Oh, yes. So, you can get a bit Sick of Things, after a year or so.
And so, I've come to a very important decision.
This is the year, of Writing.
Well, Of course, I do write on my own, even without a goal to myself...
But I've set a goal in which I am making right now in this very brain that I have right in my head.
Yes.
Now, where was I...

Yes. This goal, being made up this moment (well, maybe not to you, since you might be reading this a while after I post it), but I have come to a very important decision, as I have declared earlier, that this is a Writing Year.
Of writing.

I shall try to:
Write one chapter book (e.g.  The Twenty Dollar Lie)
AND
Write another 12 Rather Short Stories.

This may be an easy goal, of course, so I may modify it as the year passes, so you might want to bookmark this page in case it seems to change as the year passes.

It may change from "Write another 12 Rather Short Stories" to "Write another 12 stories" to "Write another 12 Chapter Books," but that may be a bit too tiring, since a professional author may write one chapter book within a year or two.

Or, It may go the Opposite, as quite the contrary.
I might write "Write one chapter book (e.g. The Twenty Dollar Lie)" instead of the usual, "
Write one chapter book (e.g.  The Twenty Dollar Lie)
AND
Write another 12 Rather Short Stories."

But who knows, since the future is always a mystery.
As the saying goes,
"Yesterday is History. Tomorrow is a Mystery. Today is a Gift. That is why it is called Present." --Anonymous

Yes.

So, if you have not still understood what this rather confusing sort of blog entry was trying to clarify,
this year (2011)'s goal is to:

Write one chapter book (e.g.  The Twenty Dollar Lie)
AND
Write another 12 Rather Short Stories.

Yes, indeed.
A rather good goal, since last year (technically yesterday)'s goal was to read at least 55 books, so this year is to write at least 13 pieces of literature, whether prized or not. Of course, I can't say to write 55 pieces of literature because that would be an awful pain in the neck, especially to one who spends many hours on writing one story.
coughmecough.

Yes, and the reason it has to be 12 stories, is because I must need time, wherefore since I am in the dreaded level of Middle School (as though not as dreaded as this High School they speak of, oh, and College). The reason is, because i need time, so there are 12 months in a year, so therefore must be 12 pieces of writing, one per month. (:

Now that I think of it, this goal must have a title, as to be easily identified when being written of in this very blog. Since last year's was CoUnTdOwN 4 BoOkS, this year's must be something spectacular. It can't have "Countdown" in it, since I've already used that one, nor can it have a number "4" in it, either, since I have also used it, OR "books," which will be a hard one. But now that I think of it, this year's goal doesn't have as much to do with books as last year, so it might not be as important to include it in this year goal's title. How about 2011 Fresh Writing? No. Too... not good. Just doesn't sound right.
How about... hm... hmmmm. tink tink tink... must...think...

Let me think. Yes, thank you.
Should it have writing in it? No. since last year's didn't have "reading" in it, this year's shouldn't have "writing" as well...
Since Reading:Books as Writing:Literature (I guess), shouldn't we have some sort of word relating to the term "literature" in it? No, sounds too teachery and schooly, if you know what I mean. We must get as far away from that as possible, in case some reader may mistake this blog as some sort of teachers blog, in which this is very not.
Hmmmm, so "literature" is out of the question.
Maybe... Oh! Literature Log.
I've gone to www.thesaurus.com to look for some synonyms of notebook, in case I may kind of synonimize "Writer's Notebook," if you know what I mean...
But that has "literature" in it. But... I like the alliteration... must consider.
I shall add it to my Considered list.

Ooooh! I found a word called wordsmith and I think its rather wordy and witty. Wordsmith! Now, that's one witty word. (: Let me look up the meaning...  Ok. Author.
Wordsmith Wordbook?
Wordsmith's Wordbook?
Wordsmith Wordbook Wish? I like that one, but it's a bit lengthy...

Let me abandon the whole wordsmith idea for this moment.

oh, look. I give up.
Well, of course not, if you really don't want me too.
Why, thank you.
Of course, of course..
but...
well, what I meant is...
well I'll aim to try.
But I can't come up with one!
Why, that's a good idea.
Yes...
Uhhuh...
Yep. Wonderful! Splendid.
Okay, thank you.
Yes, I must be going, too.
Yes, bye.
Bye.

Well, why don't you come up with one? Yes, you.
Well who else is reading this?
The person next to you, you say?
Oh.

Well then both of you come up with something, and please EMAIL it to me at celinerulez@gmail.com or countdown4books@gmail.com but I'd suggest celinerulez@gmail.com because I really think that's better.
Because.
Why? I don't have to tell you if I don't want to.
Yeah.
Okay. Good.
Anyhow, so I've modified the above Long Paragraph to
Well then both of you come up with something, and please EMAIL it to me at celinerulez@gmail.com because I really think that's better.

What? Well first of all if you don't have a computer you wouldn't be reading this anyway?
Well it's obvious, isn't it? How would I not know?
Yes, of course. If you don't have a computer, then you wouldn't know this webpage existed, then you wouldn't even be wondering how to email me altogether!
Yes, a very smart conclusion.
Why, thank you.


Oh, you're there, aren't you? I forgot you were there. I'm sorry.
Anyhow, I must be bugging you much, since you're squirming in your seat waiting for this page to end. So here goes...


So, may I wish you a merry New Year, as the new and fresh year of 2011 begins and unravels its mysteries in which we have not unveiled will come to occur at an alarmingly surprising rate.

Let me tell you, time flies if you think of the past and time slows if you think of the future. Just think of tomorrow if you want time to slow and think of yesterday and how the week has passed if you want to make time feel fast.
And before you know it, another minute has passed as you are confusedly thinking of this ponderous sentence/paragraph I have typed. (: Glad to confuzzle you.

Yes, as I wrote a few thirty minutes ago, Happy New Year!

Many happy returns to you,
Celine, Administrator of Love, Read, Write!


P.S. Any modifications of 2011 goal is shown as edited here, in the following text:
None, so far.

P.P.S. I haven't come up with a title yet so this post doesn't have a label yet so you better come up with a title fast!

 
Okay you're probably all freaked out, like "what's this!?" and stuff,

But I found out you can post stuff from Word. So I decided to test it out.

Basically, I wrote a story called Survivors.

But it's not about surviving in the wild and all that.. it's something different.

You'll see. Here is the Prologue and Chapter 1. Kinda freaky, eh?


 

 

 

  
 

 

 
Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…

The tense silence hung over the classroom, leaving an atmosphere of anxiety and awkwardness.

Tick… Tock.. Tick… tock…..

Mr. Hendrickson walked around his desk for the, perhaps, millionth time.

The small watch on his pale, skinny wrist ticked, tocked, so loudly, as if it was on speakerphones. The silence magnified the volume of the ticking.

All you could hear was the ticking, the furious pencil-scribbling noises, and the occasional flip of page.

Mr., Hendrickson looked up from his watch and scanned the room. He smiled. So far, so good.

    Beads of sweat were working their way down Robert's face. He breathed out. In. Out. In. Out. He counted to ten. That was what his therapist had told him to do, when he was nervous. No breakdown.

    His eyes scanned down the page. No way he was going to finish this Examination. And it was the first Examination. What would the second Examination be like? How many were there? How could he survive? Nobody knew what happened to you when you failed. He'd never seen anybody but the Passers come out.


 
    At first, Michael had rolled his eyes. The old paper and pencil method, eh? But then again, his arm would have major pain after the first Examination.

    He had nearly fallen out of the seat when he saw the packet. Was studying able to be competent to this? He had passed the Enrollment, so nobody here has memory chips. No cheating. Surely studying for years would pay off.


 

 
    Hendrickson smiled. He looked at his watch, and clapped his hands together, so loudly, half the room jumped out of their seats. A girl in the back began sobbing.

    "One minute. Finish up." He looked at his watch. He frowned.


 

 
    Nobody ever got the answers. They were "graded," and the Passers' names were just posted on the wall. The others, well, nobody knew, unless you were one of the Officials.

    Robert tried to imagine himself as an Official. He shuddered. Was it possible? Though… he had passed the first Enrollment.

    He looked up. Was this Hendrickson an Official? Probably not. They were strictly confidential, weren't they?

    He observed Hendrickson. He was looking at his watch. Old fashioned, designed just to tell time, and maybe an alarm included, by the thickness of it, he could tell. Suddenly, a flicker of anger, of his true self, flickered on his face for a moment. It scared Robert. He looked away. He could feel Hendrickson's eyes on him. He shuddered.


 

 
    He clasped his hands together, louder this time. Nearly everyone jumped out of their seat. Only a certain number of people did. He took note of those people.

    "Please leave your desks, walk out of the room, and go to room 342B. 342B. Leave immediately."

    His icy voice sent shivers and shudders all of the people's bodies. They left the room, the only sign of their presence represented by mere pencil marks.

It was unreasonably quiet in the room. A room, with an old fashioned doorknob. A stupid kid had stepped in front of it, stomped, yelled open, until someone muttered, idiot and opened the door.

Robert looked around. He was the only Chosen from the Hicklefinn School of Technological Education and Philosophical Sciences. H-STEPS. No, wait. His eyes paused on one kid, with a yellow shirt, green pants… familiar.

"Michael Jamison," he whispered, shuddering for the third time this day.


 

 
Michael's ears perked up. He heard that voice before. He vigorously scanned the room. He stopped when he saw a boy who seemed familiar. His glare was what reminded him most of that kid in H-STEPS… no. That was impossible. His parents had told him that he was the only special one in his school, the only Chosen, the only one with the chance to become an Official if he passed the Examinations. No. It was probably another kid from another school, who just looked like him, right?

But… he couldn't help it. He just knew it was him. Just knew. Should he talk to him? He didn't have any of his friends around right now, so might as well make some…but that was nearly impossible. He'd already given a bad impression upon him, hadn't he? Or was he as desperate as Michael?


 

 
Was it possible? He had to check. Last time, he was informed he was the only Chosen. Was this possible? Did the Michael kid have an identical twin brother who goes to a different school? Or was this some pure accident, was he not supposed to be here?

But they had that elaborate check and detailed Enrollment, even that laminated ID card that had the endlessly long code inscribed into the small software chip in the ID card, impossible to reproduce a copy and register another person.

The only conclusion was that they had lied to him. But why?


 

 

 


 
Hendrickson came to the room a few hours later and broke the awkward silence that lingered for too long.

He wordlessly gave each person a cup of water and a small packet containing a small blue pill.

"'s this a SPill?" a kid asked.

Hendrickson smiled at the nickname and said, yes, it is, now take it; you'll need it.

Each kid took one SPill, and it confused Robert, why'd they need a SPill? Were they really going to not sleep for the rest of the Examination? Suddenly, as Hendrickson reached him, he hesitated. Was this really a SPill? What if… As if he had read his mind, Hendrickson glared at Robert and murmured to take it; it's really a SPill.

Robert shuddered at the icy, soft tone of Hendrickson, and it eerily reminded him of snakes.

He hurriedly took a cup and accidentally spilled it.

Hendrickson's eyes flashed a deep anger, so inhuman Robert backed away in surprise and fell to the ground next to where Michael was.

Suddenly, Hendrickson smiled, his usual "bored" face on display, his lips pursed, as he muttered, "come with me."


 
They walked along long, snaky hallways, the walls a dull gray with random splotches of red, which honestly freaked Robert out. He nervously glanced at the back of Hendrickson's pitch black hair, and it felt like looking at a sleeping lion.

Each step, each new hallway they turned to, it felt longer, and longer than ever, like an hour, another hour, another hour passed.

Each hour, his mood felt sourer and sourer, and he began to wonder where he really was going.

"Where are we going?"

Suddenly, Hendrickson stopped at the nearby door and opened it. "In."

Inside was a small dorm. With a few beds and a door that Robert naturally thought of as the bathroom.

"Go into the bathroom, change into these."

"Why?"

"Just-" his eyes flashed red "-go. Hurry. I'll force you into them if you don't." His threatening voice urged him into the bathroom as he blindly grabbed whatever clothes Hendrickson had given to him.

He wished it looked the same as the ones he was wearing right now.

His hands suddenly felt warm, as if the clothes he was holding was changing shape. He blindly searched for the light switch as he closed the door shut.

There was no lock.

"Oh, well…" he muttered.

He noticed the clothes were the same duplicate as his clothes, just as he wished. "Cool."


 

 
The suspect opened the door. Good, Hendrickson thought, he doesn't look any different.

"Wash your hands," Hendrickson snapped. He'd learned a while back that talking nicely never worked. "And wash your face."

The kid backed away into the door, looking small and afraid. "Kids…" he muttered.


 

 
Michael was worried. Of course, not of the kid; just that, what happens if he made a mistake like the other kid, Robert? He knew it was Robert, the minute he had hesitated. Robert was the careful one, making practical decisions, smart and all. He was brave and kind, one of the reasons why he had more friends than Michael.

But he wouldn't make such rash mistakes like Robert. Of course not. He'd never dare to make a mistake. Anyhow, he had a sick feeling in his stomach that maybe, Robert wasn't going to return for the rest of the Examination.

It surprised him especially, therefore, when Robert walked in. But he looked different. He didn't have that calm, peaceful, knowing face he'd always put on in H-STEPS. He looked a bit surprised, taken aback, maybe, and definitely confused. When Hendrickson gestured towards the direction of Michael, Robert obediently went to where Hendrickson was pointing.

Next to me, Michael realized.


 
He had to tell someone. Of course, Hendrickson could probably read minds, so he had kept his face as confused as possible, farthest away from horror as possible, trying so hard not to think of what he had seen. Hendrickson was smiling when Robert had walked out of the bathroom, as if he knew. But that was impossible. He wasn't an Official, was he? Of course not. Impossible. But…

"Hey."

"What?" Michael snapped.

"Whoa, calm down, man. Look. There's people staring at us," Robert whispered. "Hey people, stop staring at me. Nothing happened to me, just go talk to your friends or whatever."

The whole room seemed to let go of the tension it had held for over an hour or two.

"What?" Michael repeated.

"Look, man, don't you go to H-STEPS?"

"Yeah, you, too, right? You're Robert Anderson, right?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"You know, you're so famous…" he gritted his teeth.

"Look, sorry man, if it makes you sad. I didn't mean to um, get you mad that time. It's okay... You're Michael Jamison, right? I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it's okay, I guess. Just sort of, never mind. So, what were you gonna say?"

Robert looked around as if he was going to tell Michael something so secretive, so important, that nobody else could hear.

"Okay," he whispered. "How long have I been gone?"

"Um, like ten fifteen minutes, why?"

"Oh, okay." He glanced up at the ceiling and slapped his cheeks some.

"What?" Michael looked annoyed.

"We walked for like –"

"Wait, you and who? Hendrickson?"

"Yeah, me and Hendrickson, we walked for a long time, for an hour, it seemed, but I guess like five minutes…"

"And?"

"The hallways were so long, almost evil, and it made me feel strange. It felt like hours until I asked where were going, and suddenly he just opened like a random door and told me to go in.

"And so I went in, and like, it's all dark –"

"Why you telling me this?"

"Just –wait. So I went in, and it's like all dark, and I could see it's a dorm. With like bunk beds and a bathroom, and he tells me to go into the bathroom and change into new clothes."

"Wait, you're wearing the same thing!"

"Yeah, so as I'm going in, I haven't seen the clothes yet, and I think, 'gee, I wish these clothes looked like the ones I'm wearing right now, so nobody, you know…' and my hands get all warm and the clothes feel… different. So when I turn on the lights –"

"They look exactly like yours?"

"Yeah. So I'm like, 'weird…' And when I walk out, Hendrickson like yells at me to go back in and wash my face and hands. So I walk back in, and I look at the sink, and when I wash my hands, the soap, man, it hurts! And the soap made red bubbles. Is that possible? Like my blood! But I didn't have any cuts. And when I washed my hands with water, it hurt bad. Like seriously. So when I wash my face, I'm all scared, so I go to the shower to see if there's any other kind of soap. You know, a bathtub? So I open the curtains and I see–"

Robert stopped. Suddenly, his head hurt, his head hurt bad. Like it was bleeding, a lot. Like he was dying, as if suddenly, he had been shot in the head. His head hurt, and he lay down, fainted.

"Robert!" Michael screamed in terror. Blood was dripping from his hands, clutched on his face.


 

 
From VRoom, Hendrickson smiled. "No suspicion… no suspicion…" He laid back in his seat and rested his feet above the controls. "No suspicion…"

He eyed the screaming kid leaning over the suspect. "Michael Jamison," he read the ID screen, smiling. "Michael Jamison."


 

 

 

 
(anyone who wants the original updated Word Document please contact me at countdown4books@gmail.com or celinerulez@gmail.com. Thank you)