Dan's Real Life Questions

Dan asked questions so here are some that I picked and answered.

3.  If I were to write for a newspaper I would write little short comics for the funnies.
8.  The books I would suggest for Marie would be either Shelter or Hatchet.
11.  When I was little my favorite hiding spot was in a cloths hamper.
15.  I make stuff out of pipe cleaners such as hats, flowers and figures.
16.  I have a mix bag of tricks between art and writing.
17.  There is too many things that I would like to have on a perfect day to list them all.
18.  For all that I have for a pick up line is a joke, " Hey baby are you an angel because I'm allergenic to feathers", case in point I don't have any.
22.  Life is full of disappointments, but its how we deal with the disappointments in life that make them easier to deal with.
23.  My friend Josh fell for my X and to just sum it up one breakup and one turn down but a lot of awkwardness.
24.  When I was little my grand father always called me Munchkin.
25.  The only time I made my bud jealous was with a video game.
26.  Love is an ability everyone should cherish.
28.  With love it takes me forever to get over some one.
30.  I'm ok with bowling but I hate it.

Why I Am

  I write because the experiences I've had in my life.
I write for the comedic jesters and the horrific tales.
I write from an adventure to an endeavor.
I write stories about overcoming overwhelming obstacles.
I write stories of one changing the world around them.
I write the fates of my characters and the world around them.
I write to create new worlds beyond imagining for the world to see.
I write to give inspiration to those of the next generation.
I write for the yearning to be a hero myself.
I write for the rain that gives me peace.
I write for the music that gives me energy.
I write for the stories that have given me inspiration.
I write for my past and wish for a better tomorrow.
I write to see my heroes through till the end.
I write to feel the struggle the pain.
I write to see sun after the storm and the devastation.
My writing is an extension of myself an extension of my being.
My writing describes my family and friends as they are behind the mask.
My writing is myself without the mask I hide behind or the jacket I hide in.
My writing is A part of me overcoming an obstacle I have faced.
My writing is my life.

To my pen pal and to my creative class

To my pen pal i write

"Its been a long year over here and i'm sorry for not sending you a message sooner. I'm sorry to hear about the internet problems you guys are having over there hope It gets fixed. In the mouth that has passed I've looked back at my mistakes and thought about what my future holds. Thinking about things between school and home, what jobs I should consider or shoot for, and about my friends i'm not going to see again. As they say in life you gotta roll with the punches. My stories have turned darker but my ideas grow brighter as I go on writing so I think they wont be so dark as i go on writing. I've hit an art block or in other words i can't think of anything to draw but to kill time I redraw old characters. I hope your school year has been great and that you may get the chance to come over here and visit and I hope we can keep in touch that is if you get this email due to the internet acting up. Its been a wonderful year for me and I hope that it was for you too. Hope to hear from you soon!"


  To this class i'm glad I met all you writers and artists who sketch your stories and write your pictures. I'm glad I took this class and only wish it was longer. I haven't gotten all your names down and that is a shame in its self. I wish I could write like all of you but I have one more write for all of you.


 You are the ones who struggle but break through all barriers in your way.
The ones who carry burdens others can not.
The ones who live their own life their way in their own style.

 You are all artists that express through words from the heart and beyond.
The ones who create the books and the pages with in them.
The ones who use the page as a canvas to write our stories upon.

  You are all people who create new worlds.
The ones who make the stories for the next generation.
The ones others wish to be.

You are the ones I know.
The ones I will miss.

Pinyin Nervous

  Jackie a MSU transfer student taught us how to write and pronounce nervous in pinyin. nervous was spelled jinzhang in pinyin. Besides the faces activity we did we talked about how classes works and how lunch works. we were able to go see Gammle and Vehill's class rooms along with mrs. Ward and or my Morris depending when you met her. The two students we showed around were Jack and Jackie. Jackie's favorite movie was frozen, but I didn't catch jack's. I think that class gave them a more en joyful experience about american high schools.

Collage

 

Post from a email

This is what my friend sent me from china.

I'm sorry that I didn't write back to you until today.I really feel your home  and your grandparents' home are very warm and cozy.I very like them.

In fact,my English is just so so .But what is the most important thing is that I lack confidence .So I speak to foreigner much less.I am very greatful to you for your encouragement.

And I am not sure that rawr means friend.If it means friend,I agree with you that rawr is like loud,like a lion's or tiger's loud growl.Rawr will remind us when we make a mistake and will help us when we get in trouble.I also think friends like sunshine.They will give warmth ,energy and encouragement to us when we face with difficulties.And we will never be alone because they will accompany us.What do you think?

And I tell you a happy thing that my friend and I climbed mountains .Altough we felt very tired, we were proud of us and very happy.Let me show you some pictures:  

 

And this is me.

colors of life

   My life started out as a healthy green. Like the grass I grew taller and taller. In bliss unaware of the world around me I grew in a shelter. Cared by hands of my mother and left to dry without my father. Brought up by a hard working grandmother and grandfather.

   As years passed the green leaves of my early years started to wilt and fall into my Grey middle school years. From the trees I passed to the concrete I walked apon into those silver soulless bars they called doors. Time seemed to move slower and slower as each day passed. Every class the same faded grey as the next. Breaks we got felt so shorter and shorter as if we had no time at all.

   As more time passed my family hit its blue period starting with my parents splitting. The fights continued the resolve was all but none. My father kept going back and forth hate then love then hate again a cycle that hasn't stopped nor may ever stop. Not much later my grandfather died bringing the hole family closer together and some further apart.

   Now I enter the stage with red curtains trying to entertain with the art I make. From sketches to writing the ideas go on. From poetry to stories I make to characters and places I create. I can see my future in the spot lights and my past in the shadows behind about to collide. Another event to happen another play to act.

Jacket Of Rags

   A jacket worn and torn that I've used through my life.
At first it seems nothing special.
Nothing but a piece of cloth with holes torn through it.

With stitches ripped and parts cut open.
A Jacket with many names but new isn't one.
It once had life but now only a shell for those who wear it.
It gives without knowing the gifts of feeling warmth and home.
The gift of lifting some burdens with ease.
The gift of memories from loved ones past and now.
It cant let you see the future, but the gift to see the past.
The memories of joy and sorrow.
Always loyal always there.
It stays with those who want it.
Growing older but always getting smaller.






   Black and broken covered with shine and dull.
It cuts me from the world around it.
It sends me to another place I could only dream of.
It gives voice to another place.
A place of overflowing joy and places of overwhelming sorrow.
A land full of action's rawrs and a valley's empty silence.
Rivers of peace and sights of emotion.
I can't see but i can hear these places with detail.











   The reason I chose these two objects is because of the impact they've had on me over time. The headphones represent my love for music and the inspiration that music has given me. The jacket was a gift from my grandfather during my sixth grade year at middle school. The jacket has so many memories in it I could never bring myself to get rid of it. Its a reminder of how easy life can be given and taken away. It also reminds me of the joys you can have in life. The joys of experiences I've had over my short life even a many sorrowful ones as well. Some I wish I could forget and never remember the sorrow they have and can bring me. My memories of my friends and family are stitched into that jacket and i wouldn't dare cut a single thread.

I am.

  I am the one who plays with bricks of plastic.

The one who runs in the rain and takes cover when under the sun.
The one who sees everything as a new adventure.

  I am the one who waits for the one that never comes.
The boy who yells but is silent among the screams.
The boy that tries but always fails.

  I am the one that twists metal to make form.
The one who uses lead to sketch a story.
The one who uses ink to write a story.

 I am the one who lives in a broken family.
The one who is broken.
The one who is filled with rage.
The one that must move on.
The one that must let go.

  I am the one who watches stories be written.
The one who watches them end.

  I am the one who feels joy.
The one who feels fear.
The one who feels hate.

  I am the one who fears the stage.
The one who fears loss.

  I am the one behind the curtains.
The one who is lost.
The one who is forgotten.

  I am the one who regrets.
The one who wishes.
The one who wouldn't.
The one who couldn't.

  I am the one who questions whether i'm happy and if this is what i wanted.
The only one that can answer that in the end.