Time Travel

^This post is titled Time Travel, because I made this post about a week ago and forgot to publish it. 


My postings have been rather wimpy lately, if you haven't noticed. I've been pretty busy. I took the ACT two weeks ago and I had to read a rather large (rather boring) book, but it did help, I must admit. I've been editing. And my first semester of school has proved to be more challenging than I'd originally thought it would be. Especially online French, gag me. But, alas, it is done.

I'm not very sad to see it go. I think Google Translate needs a break from all my translating. 

I passed French with an 85% - but it's an Honors class, so it is bumped up to a 95%. I am perfectly happy with that. I am overjoyed. I still want to learn the French language, but I would rather have my eyes gouged out with a spork than finish the next semester of that online class.


In other news - the final editing of Riley Girl has drawn to a close.
The first thing I did was go through the book with a neon pen (I've learned that pencil does not really help the editing process because after 300+ pages, the marks tend to blend together). And then I go back through my actual word document and edit there. But, sometimes I can't understand what I was trying to fix.
Sometimes, the words I write don't even make sense.

 ^ She wasly? I tend to create new words when I'm exhausted.

When I first started editing, I only changed a few things, but by the end of my book every page looked like I had scribbled over it with a black pen in a bout of extreme anger or madness. It was a great time.

Add the fact that I don't have a Y-key.

I was a hot mess by the time I finally finished. 

 But, I finally finished editing my book. And the grand total of words and stuffs is below:

97,221 words. I don't even know that many words. Hopefully my book will be for sale soon, but until then, I'm taking a small break from novel-writing. I think I'll stick with short stories for awhile.

In other news, I've been really busy with basketball. It's actually been really fun. The girls on my team are awesome and I love posting pictures of the funny faces they make.

And taking their small mammals on walks through the streets of our town.

And I totally just remembered my other theory. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about - I'm referring to a post I made a week ago about Color Theory. I had another theory, but I forgot it. But now I have recalled it.)

The Pizza Roll Theory:
It is the simple idea that you can smell and determine what type of pizza roll you are about to consume. *Note: this theory only works when using a Combination of different pizza rolls. If you use all pepperoni, it does not count.

As usual, my friends don't believe anything I think and decided to test it themselves.

 They decided that you can, in fact, use smelling to determine whether the pizza roll is cheese or pepperoni -- quite grudgingly, I might add.
My friends think I'm weird and don't like to encourage my oddness. 

And then we went to the park!


Making friends is one one key aspect I enjoy in my basketball career, or lack thereof. I also get to witness some pretty cool sunsets during the bus rides.

Beautiful, no?

Look what happens when you turn it sideways:

It looks like space. And the pink stuff is a planet.

I would like to touch on something sad. Now that the first semester of school is over, my short stories class has run its course. I love that class. It was probably the most influential class -- on my writing, that is. It really helped me with my creativity and mechanical skills. I can now almost write in third person. I loved my teacher and my classmates. I think we really drew together as a class.
We also made a book of short stories together -- the BOSS. (Book of Short Stories).

We're really creative and stuff.

To end the class, we went out to eat for ice cream. It was bittersweet, but the perfect way to end a great semester.

I'll miss that class, but it will always be evident in my writings. And for that, I'm thankful.

APOCALYPSE UPDATE

UPDATE FROM CANADA
Everything is in ruins. Canada is in devastation. The moose have begun forming their own government; we are waiting for their next move.

THE MOOSE HAVE BEGUN HERDING THE HUMANS. I HAVE BEEN SEPARATED FROM MY FAMILY. I CANNOT SEE THEM, I CAN ONLY SEE ANTLERS.

A FRIENDLY GROUP OF VIGILANTE MOOSE HAVE TAKEN ME IN. 

AT DAWN, WE RIDE.

UPDATE FROM GREAT BRITAIN

WE HAVE RUN OUT OF TEA

I REPEAT

WE HAVE RUN OUT OF TEA

ABORT

ABORT

UPDATE FROM IRELAND

There are flesh eating Leprechauns everywhere.

We are throwing potatoes at them but it’s no use.

We are going to die.

UPDATE FROM ILLINOIS

THE SNOW PLOWS HAVE TURNED ON THEIR MASTERS

TROLLS ARE INVADING FROM MICHIGAN

THE GOVERNOR HAS JUMPED SHIP

THANK GOD

*note - I only made up the last one. 

Street Basketball

In my life, I have made up many games. Fun games, dumb games, lumber games. Games involving humans or brooms. Games in which life has meaning or in which I can pretend to be an Indian or a lion. Recently, whilst I was sitting on the bench during a basketball game, I started talking to an amusing ginger girl named Cass. Cass, you see, understands my motifs in creating games for myself and between the two of us, we might just have created the most exciting and entertaining game of all games. 

Street Basketball . . . of death. The following is an atrocious power point that contains not only the best game ever but also awful grammar and mechanics. 
Just click the link (it will take you to my slideshare website so you can view the power point) and enjoy. 

Street Basketball

My Theories

In my life, I have developed many theories that I know in my heart - and my soul- are true. If I had a soul, they'd be true there, too.

1) THE COLOR THEORY
   The color theory or otherwise known as color-smell-theory is the perception that all colors have a smell. This theory has been argued and thought upon since the beginning of creation but, nevertheless, it has been proven by a flame-haired sixteen year old girl who went to a Lutheran preschool.

And at this Lutheran preschool, there was this color chart. I can still picture it in my head. It had 8 colors on it - each one shown as a picture of something that color. For example, purple was a picture of dancing grapes. White was laundry sheets, I think. Let me present to you a crude drawing of what the chart potentially could of looked like:

^Why must the black border be there, computer? Why?

^Also, notice how the Lutherans spell 'Colours'

The chart, and my teacher, taught me that not only did colors have a hue, but they also had a smell. And not necessarily linked to the pictures, either. It's like . . . you smell something and you're like 'Oh, that's definitely green'. Colors have smells. I can go outside and smell green. But I cannot put my face up to someone's shirt and be like 'Blue, I know it's blue' because that is ridiculous. That's something completely different. Colors have a smell, people. But something that is blue does not just smell blue, is just is blue. That is fabric die, my children. 


I think I have just succeeded in not making any sense at all.

2) Theory Number 2

I had another theory, but I forgot it. 

Well . . . 

3 Women Trying to Make a Video About Cooking

Poems

I just wanted to share two of my favorite poems. As of today.


Miniver Cheevy 
By: Edwin Arlington Robinson

Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
         Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;
He wept that he was ever born,
         And he had reasons.

Miniver loved the days of old
         When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
         Would set him dancing.

Miniver sighed for what was not,
         And dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,
         And Priam's neighbors.

Miniver mourned the ripe renown
         That made so many a name so fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
         And Art, a vagrant.

Miniver loved the Medici,
         Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly
         Could he have been one.

Miniver cursed the commonplace
         And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the mediaeval grace
         Of iron clothing.

Miniver scorned the gold he sought,
         But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,
         And thought about it.

Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
         Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
         And kept on drinking.






Richard Cory
By: Edwin Arlington Robinson


Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
'Good-morning,' and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head. 





I had to research the poem Richard Cory for Enriched English -- and let me tell you, it was intense. First I had to give a background on the poet.

Edwin had it rough, man.

Let me break it down.

1) His mother didn't want a son so Edwin was pushed to the side.
2) At the age of 11 he wrote a poem that said the following: 'Sometimes I wonder why I was even born'. I mean -- he was 11. I can understand a 14 year old saying that today, but it was like 1904 when Edwin was 11.
3) His older brother died of drug overdose.
4) Edwin had to drop out of Harvard to take care of his mother, who also ended up dying.
5) And then, to top it all off, his brother Herman stole Edwin's love, Emma.

Seriously, Herman?

That's just uncalled for.
Anyway, that's just what I was thinking about.

You can think about it if you want.
Or you can think about popsicles, because that's what I'm thinking about now.

One-Liners

I've been going through some of my old and new projects. I've composed a few dozen first lines from every story I've written. It's really enjoy most of the things I used to work on. The things from way back are interesting read because they seem almost innocent.

It was before I had taken years of  upper English and developed grammar and mechanics. It was before I knew was symbolism or how to construct inter-woven plots and metaphors. But, they are not bad stories. In fact, most of my favorite ideas are the stories I came up with when I was 11 years old.

I think it just shows how far my writing has come since then. I wanted to share some of these one-liners with you -- starting from my earliest stories to the ones I am working on now.

In the year 2227 the world began to end. - from Prisoner of the Moon (2006)

Kaitlynn Nelson carefully smoothed back her light blond hair that was pulled into a tight bun. -from Iris (2007)

Bright red and blue lights reflected off the slick pavement that flew under my rapid footsteps. - from Riley Girl (2008) 

I shivered slightly in the chilly October night. -from Whispers of the Past (2009) 

It was like a dream. -from Re Surfacing (2009)

“I don’t want her to die.”  - from Sloan (2009)


Police sirens, the most annoying sound in the world. - from Masked (2009)


I look back at my life and feel so many things. - from A Leap of Faith (2010)


The man on the television reminded me of my fourth grade Science teacher. - from The End (2011) 

The rain pours down from the sky, unrelenting. - from Rain Falls Down (2011)


I keep my hands at my side, waiting. - from Canaan (2011)


It’s really hard to describe the sunset tonight. - from  Repressed (2011)

Courage is hard to come by – many people go their whole lives without a touch of bravery. - from The Jabberwocky (2011)


The camera slowly focuses, the scene emerging from the blurry darkness. - from The Project (2012)

It is dark. - from Nameless (2012) 

I found out I was dying when I was six years old. -from Broken Heart (2012) 

Her shadow flitted over the pavement, breaking up the yellow sun on the sidewalk. -from Okay (2012)

The monster stands with a gun in his hands. - from How High We Are (2012)



I hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane, people.

News

I have been editing non-stop. I am almost done with Riley Girl.

Also, I may have just gotten the opportunity for a REAL live EDITOR to look over my book.

Is this real life?

The Rap War

  Last night, I had a two and a half hour long basketball practice. I was pretty tired after it and my foot hurt really bad for no reason at all (it likes being difficult) so I decided to take a long shower to relax. 

  I tend to sing in the shower. It's the only place besides my car, Karen, where I ever even try to sing. I would relate myself to the Sirens in Grecian mythology -- the creatures whose beautiful songs led sailors to their deaths. But my voice just causes people's ear drums to explode. 

 I tend to stick to singing in the shower or my car.

 I started off singing 'Skinny Love' by Bon Iver and 'Stubborn Love' by the Lumineers which are my two favorite songs at the moment. I then went to praise and worship songs and somehow I found myself singing a rap song.

 Do not ask me how that happened. 

 But then I realized the lyrics were awful and I was like 'self, why are you singing this? why? why can't you sing a good, clean rap song that's funny or about kittens or something' and then I was like 'yeah, I can make up a great rap!'

 And then I started rapping and I put this status on facebook:

I was just telling of the awesome, eye opening rap experience I had, but someone took it as a personal challenge. This person was my friend Job. Like from the Bible.

(Clarification. My friend Job is not from the Bible. He is from the country. His name originates from the Bible. Just wanted to clear up the confusion -- if there was any. I'm not judging you or calling you stupid, but it's a Tuesday. I'm slow on Tuesdays.) 

Anyway my friend Job came into ACS (homeroom) and challenged me to a rap off. I refused to sing so we wrote it on the board. 

 Mine are the top two in blue and Job's is the one in black.

 My friends were not sure who the winner was. So we left school and called it a draw, but then I got home from basketball and saw I had a text from Job.
And it was a rap.
I took it as a challenge.

 (ur a sinner. but if it was u kno i would be the winner. CROWD: [ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh])

First off, this rap makes no sense. Yes, I am a sinner. I acknowledge that. The phrase but if it was makes no sense. If what was? Is he referring to me as an it? Because that is just plain insulting.

Before I could respond, he sent me yet another text.

 (Just when u thought i was done i came back. it aint over. im here to attack. cuz ur rhymes are lame. u think this rap battles a game? if u think that then)

U think this rap battles a game? Obviously not. A rap cannot battle anything. If there was a apostrophe in there I would realize he meant 'you think this rap battle is a game) but no, he threw grammar out the window and just caused yet another round of confusion.

So I responded with this:

 (Oh burn you think dat crowds on yr side. Bro they leading u straight to demise. Yr mouth goes to a frown yah boy im going to town. CROWD: buuuurrrrnnn)

Ignore all my previous hypocritical grammar comments.

 Job was quick to respond, sending the following:
(Alright i see how it is gab. Of course thats all u had. That rhyme was drab and all i read was blab blab. But even if u goin to town u takin a cab [drop mike in face and walk off stage])

Up until this point, I was pretty impressed with his skills, but this turned to a new stage in the battle.

 (well considering yall just used one rhyme that whole dang time i just say step back keep that nonsense at bay u got no idea what yourself into so step back and listen to these sweet rhymes imma give you)

That^ was my ingenious response. I was falling hard, fast. I waited for his rebuttle, my fingers trembling at the keyboard nervously . . .

And then I got the text from Job that would change our battle forever . . .

(Two lines ur not a riley ur a DuMonde. Its already over move on. [haha this is my favorite one yet...cuz it strikes close to home])

My own book turned against me.
I surrendered and bowed to Job's rapping skills.

And so ended the rapping battle of 2012.

10 Billion Things About Me

10 Billion Things About Me

I felt the need to make a post about me. 10,000,000,000 things about me. I'm shooting for at least 12.

Why, you ask?

My English teacher thought our autobiographies were pitiful and said we don't know ourselves very well.

I took it as a challenge.

1) My name is Gabriella Sloan, which means strength of God. I would like to think I get my strength from God and not from myself, but I am a very flawed individual. 

2) I grew up on a farm with my four aunts. As a result, I think I can hold up in a fight. 

3) I drank horse de-wormer when I was three and the only thing I remember is watching Free Willie in the hospital room. 

4) I refused to learn how to read as a child and refused to sleep by myself until I was 11 years old. 

5) I started writing when I was about 6 or so. My first ever story was about raindrops and hearts. I finished my first novel a few days after my 15th birthday..

6) I have always dreamed of helping people, but with a focus on teenagers. I love trying to help people work through their problems, but sometimes I have a problem with listening. 

7) (this one is odd) When I was 8 I looked into a mirror and didn't recognize myself. I can't picture my face in my head -- I always find myself looking at my reflection and not being sure if it's me. Whenever I think of myself, I always have dark brown hair and eyes and a round face. 

8) When I grow up, I want to get married to someone and stay married to them for my entire life. 

9) I love cookie dough and icing even though I shouldn't eat it because of my lactose intolerance. 

10) I always sing when I drive. 

11) I really want to prove that I can do whatever I want to in my life. I want to be a writer and have people read my books and learn something from them, even if they hate the actual book.

12) I write poems. 

I might know who I am yet, but I know where I've come from and the things that make me happy. 

And for now, that's enough. 

Those Awwwwwww Moments

^ look at that title ^

You know what I'm talking about.

Don't deny it. Especially you, Male Reader. Those moments make you legit to girls. Just saying.

Today has been full of those moments. Admittedly, some were in anger but most were the cause of happiness. I just got done reading the emails from the kids who are reading my book and a few of them made me unbelievably happy. I have included them below -- if you do not want anything spoiled DO NOT read the comments. If you don't care, read ahead.

(Caution: Spoiler Alert) 

I'm really liking this book! It's one of the best books I think I've ever read, and I'm not just saying that! It was so funny when Simone said she had been with Phillip and then her mother said that Zoe had wanted to marry him and then thought that Simone and Phillip are getting married! I thought I was going to burst out laughing in front of the entire class. Anyway, the story is great! Keep writing, it might get you farther than you think in life. Great job!

We are only on chapter four but I love it so far!!!!! You are a really good author you should write more books!!!

(End Spoiler Alert)



Lemme back up just a tad. Pretend we're jumping into a blog time machine! That was really dorky. I'm so sorry. 

Let's just agree to rewind back to last night's basketball game, okay? 

 This week we have 5 games. So far we've won one tournament and our next one starts tomorrow  Yesterday was not a great day for me, just because I was being a grumpy-butt. But I got really excited for the game (even though I couldn't play because apparently I have no sports physical) and on the bus ride we passes a windmill farm!

 It made me very happy. It was beautiful. Like a vertical Christmas tree.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed cheering on my team to victory. My goofball friend Annie had to sit and do stats with me and we counted how many times our coach used the word 'okay' during half time.

44 times.

I asked him on a scale from 1 to 10 how mad he would be if we counted how many times he said "okay". He said 11 so I said "good thing I've never done that".

He was very convinced.

 In the girls bathroom of the school we were at, they had this quote thingy on the wall. It's very distracting. And why is it in the bathroom? That's what bothered me the most. I feel like it's encouraging talking whilst in the bathroom, which is just awkward if you ask me.

I guess I'm just not an innovater.

Okay, fast forward to this morning. We had family pictures and I had to go get yet another sports physical. The photo shoot was mainly for my newborn brother, Owen, so Addison and I were exiled to the van for most of the time. I drove us to McDonald's. It was an adventure --
1) I've never gone out of my small town before -- I had to go through three stop lights!
2) I've never driven a van before!
3) I've never driven with an infant in the car . . . well, my friends have the maturity of my 2 year old sister, so scratch that last one.
4) I was too scared to park in the McDonald's parking lot so I parked in the empty Dollar General parking lot like a mile away and had to drag my sister across the lots.

I got a smoothie but then everyone kept looking at me like I was the scrounge of the earth or something. I realized they thought she was my daughter. It didn't help she decided to call me 'Mommy' the whole day.

We went and played in the van after that.

She's hilarious, if you ask me.

I went and got my physical (which took approximately 7 minutes) and then headed to basketball. The girls informed me I had missed 20 solid minutes of running. I felt relieved and kind of bad.
After we got done with practice, our coach talked to us seriously.
A serious talk.

It was actually probably the best motivational speech I've ever heard. I won't try to write it, because as everyone knows I am an awful formal writer. But he talked about playing with intensity and pride. Life goes to fast. We should look back and think we have nothing to regret.

I really should take that to heart.


After I got home, I had to work on my poster for Enriched English. I had to compare McCarthyism and Arthur Miller's The Crucible. I've been plugging away at the project for a few weeks now and all the sudden I looked down and realized --

  -- I switched tenses halfway through the poster.

 I thought it wouldn't be that bad. I did a ton of work -- it couldn't be in vain.

 And then I realized the sections that were the same tense did not make sense. I'm talking about actions that occurred 50 years ago. Why would I ever write in present tense?

 So I had to go fix them all.

 One of the not thrilled 'Awwwwwww Moments'.

 But then I realized that I was using Elmer's stick glue and that stuff sucks. So it was all good.

And I fixed it! Yay!

 And I even had time to make a little craft with stickers!
Stickers! (Why am I hyper? It's 9 PM. Sigh).

But then I realized it looked like the word 'gabble' instead of 'gabbie'. So I glued it on the back of my poster so I wouldn't look like a complete idiot when I present my poster. Don't worry -- my teacher already knows of my idiocy.
She has embraced it.

To end my night, I got to snuggle with Owen. 

Another priceless 'Awwwwww Moment' has gone by folks.

Owen wishes you a good night and prayed you will never switch your tenses.

Did you catch that? ^

All right, I'll stop trying to be funny. Night!

-Gab

#Busy

I just hash-tagged a post title.

I'm falling apart.

In reality, I'm busy. And not just like busy. But like this:
BUSY.

So lemme just apologize right now for a few things:

1) I haven't posted that much lately (not necessarily my fault -- we've had no Internet because our home was being worked on. This isn't technically my fault, but I could have spent a little time preparing for future blog posts which I did not do in the slightest).

2) My grammar is atrocious. I went back to some previous posts and I can't even stay in the correct tense. I have failed you. Don't grow up to be like me, children, writing willy-nilly, verifying adjectives and conjunctions, and raging havoc upon the blogger world. I'm a twisted soul.

3) My trying to be funny. I'm really weird and my jokes don't make sense. Just smile and nod. Or light your computer on fire.
Either option works well.

So. What was I posting about? Get it together, Sloan. 

I'm busy. I have a new brother. Enriched English. I started basketball last week. We practice about 6 days a week for about 2  hours a night, which isn't that bad but when it's over I'm exhausted. I'm dead after practice. And it's emotionally draining.

I love basketball. But I can barely use a pencil without impaling myself. I have no hand-eye coordination. I don't even have hand-hand coordination. I can hardly tie my shoes.

I want to do well in basketball. It's the only sport I've ever liked. Ever. In 16 years, it is the only sport I have really wanted to be good at. I don't mind losing, because somebody had to be the loser (and it's usually me) but in basketball I want to DOMINATE.

There's a small problem.

You know that one kid in school during read-aloud who just read so slow? That one kid that nobody wants to read because it is literally painful to sit through.
I'm like that kid in basketball. Except worse.
Like how-are-you-still-in-school-you-learned-how-to-read-a-decade-ago-you-were-a-mistake.

It's not like the coach is mean or my team members or anything like that. I have two awesome coaches. Off the chang coaches. (I probably shouldn't use that term because I have no idea what it means . . . wait, just Urban Dictionaried it. I'm good). The girls on my team are hilarious. The problem is I ruin everything. I can't make a shot to save muh lyfe.

So I try not to shoot, but then I don't do anything so I'm not valuable even in the game. So I get taken out. I sit on the bench. I get nervous of messing up. I air ball. I decide never again to shoot a basketball. I get frustrated and start to foul. I feel like an idiot. I go to my car and cry like an even bigger idiot.

It's a reoccurring process. I'm trying to break it because I want to have fun. I want to be good. I want to try really hard.

It'll hopefully get better as the season progresses. I just gotta get over myself and realize that it's supposed to be about having fun and not about winning. But, the sad thing is -- it is about winning in the real world. Very much so. Either way -- I need to relax and enjoy it. I'm not going to be a basketball star later in life.

Another thing I've been up to is:
EDITING.

I've been editing like no other. All I do is edit, edit, edit. In Chemistry (just kidding, Mom, if you're reading this. If you're not reading this, I'm not kidding), during lunch, while I sleep, and into the late hours of the night I edit. I want to get my book over, done, bang, by the end of November. It is dead to me.

Not really, but you can only read something you wrote so many times before you want to rip it into shreds. It's a hard feeling to explain, really. I love my book. I wrote it because I loved the story. And many people tell me they love it. And I don't think it's bad - in fact, I'm very, very proud of how hard I and others have worked to make it what it is today. I couldn't ask for more supportive helpers and my love for writing.

But I've read it a billion times. I mean, I've read Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins at least 100 times. For fun. But Riley Girl is mine. Riley Girl won't ever be good enough for me. I'll always find errors or try to fix it. I have this idea of it in my head that will always be changing and growing as I develop into a better writer.

But, I love my book. And I just want it to be for sale. I want to see others read my passion and tell me if they hate it. Tell me what I can do to be better. I want to know if I can make it in the crazy world of fiction and novels and typing-till-your-fingers-fall-off.

Plus, now I edit everything.

Even menus.



I have no idea how to end this post.
So here are some pictures of a ball war I had with my cousins. The little monkeys whipped those plastic spheres at my apple-like skin.