I have had the hardest time thinking about what to write for this blog. I wanted to be poignant, witty, make people eager to read my blog. But I can’t think of anything. I suppose that’s okay, I suppose that blogs are meant to introduce the person writing them in some way. Everyone wants to feel close to something and that’s why people read blogs at all. (Unless your teacher says you have to.)
I like to add my own clips to movies. If I think a movie or a television show didn’t add the correct emotion or that something in the delivery was lacking, sometimes for no reason at all, I add my movies scenes. I love doing it too. It makes me feel more for the people I’m watching and I think it’s good practice to enliven all types of characters, not just the ones I create. Sometimes I even like to take the point of view of the bad guy or the not-quite-so-bad-but-still-pretty-mean guy.
Entry 1: Random pieces I was inspired to write from Stranger than Fiction
Nothing had ever sounded so final as the slap of the manila folder on that desk. Harold looked forlornly back at the professor, wishing that somehow, in some way, he could tell Harold what to do next. Harold knew that his fear was on him then. If he left for one night as Professor Howard read that story, would he die before he knew how? In the morning would he wake up dead? Harold dismissed the idea and let his rational thoughts return to him. You can’t wake up dead, he told himself. With that he forced himself to turn and leave the office.
In this next part I changed the characters and tried to create a new scene stemming from the dialogue of the movie.
“Who in a choice between pancakes and living would choose pancakes?” He demanded. Lolita lowered her eyes. It was a moment before she spoke.
“Well, that depends on the quality of the life and the quality of the pancakes. Just how many pancakes are there? And how big are they?” She asked seriously. Harold looked at her as though her head had just spun round on her neck.
“Please, tell me you’re joking.” His voice was strained; finally, he sighed. “Never mind, I’m going to pretend you’re joking.”
“If it was only a couple of pancakes…” Lolita clicked her tongue before meeting his eyes once more. “And if I choose life, can I still eat pancakes sometimes?”
“Stop. Just stop.” Harold rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes. His point, at least the way he’d seen it, was gone. Somebody might choose pancakes over living, specifically, a certain blond, naïve waitress might. Lolita raised her hand to her lips with a small blush.
“I guess I wasn’t helping you that much, was I?” She mumbled.
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My Visual DNA
Random 1
I have had the hardest time thinking about what to write for this blog. I wanted to be poignant, witty, make people eager to read my blog. But I can’t think of anything. I suppose that’s okay, I suppose that blogs are meant to introduce the person writing them in some way. Everyone wants to feel close to something and that’s why people read blogs at all. (Unless your teacher says you have to.)
I like to add my own clips to movies. If I think a movie or a television show didn’t add the correct emotion or that something in the delivery was lacking, sometimes for no reason at all, I add my movies scenes. I love doing it too. It makes me feel more for the people I’m watching and I think it’s good practice to enliven all types of characters, not just the ones I create. Sometimes I even like to take the point of view of the bad guy or the not-quite-so-bad-but-still-pretty-mean guy.
Entry 1: Random pieces I was inspired to write from Stranger than Fiction
Nothing had ever sounded so final as the slap of the manila folder on that desk. Harold looked forlornly back at the professor, wishing that somehow, in some way, he could tell Harold what to do next. Harold knew that his fear was on him then. If he left for one night as Professor Howard read that story, would he die before he knew how? In the morning would he wake up dead? Harold dismissed the idea and let his rational thoughts return to him. You can’t wake up dead, he told himself. With that he forced himself to turn and leave the office.
In this next part I changed the characters and tried to create a new scene stemming from the dialogue of the movie.
“Who in a choice between pancakes and living would choose pancakes?” He demanded. Lolita lowered her eyes. It was a moment before she spoke.
“Well, that depends on the quality of the life and the quality of the pancakes. Just how many pancakes are there? And how big are they?” She asked seriously. Harold looked at her as though her head had just spun round on her neck.
“Please, tell me you’re joking.” His voice was strained; finally, he sighed. “Never mind, I’m going to pretend you’re joking.”
“If it was only a couple of pancakes…” Lolita clicked her tongue before meeting his eyes once more. “And if I choose life, can I still eat pancakes sometimes?”
“Stop. Just stop.” Harold rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes. His point, at least the way he’d seen it, was gone. Somebody might choose pancakes over living, specifically, a certain blond, naïve waitress might. Lolita raised her hand to her lips with a small blush.
“I guess I wasn’t helping you that much, was I?” She mumbled.
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