The piece I wrote and presented at the Young Writers Camp '07, during the "Writer's Slam" session. No one was slammed, however. Disappointingly. Hehe.
A breeze blew. Fluttered, went the leaves. Gazing at them, I paused...then reflected. With silent, disenchanted melancholy, I thought about how easy it is to lose yourself in the abyss that is your thoughts.
Hehehe. What rubbish that was, all in the name of showing off to others how "powderful" your "Engrish" is. I am, after all, not like Alvin* or Owen*. I do not use big words, as it can be telling of me- since the size of your words is proportional to that of your ego.
But what am I saying? I do not like to criticize people. However, for the purpose of my story, I'll be glad to make an exception.
The story begins on a cool, breezy night. Don't worry, no big words coming up. He stared into the sky, with nervousness. His hands were shaking. He had a date.
Something, no, someone caught his eye. Was it her? He grew even more nervous. He threw the date he had into his mouth and began to chew on it. It was sour, he nearly vomited, but he was glad.
His parents didn't let him have any dates, and he relished any chance of eating them.
Anyway. He spotted his girlfriend, and breathed a sigh of relief.
"You're late!" he said with joy. She looked confused. "I'm so happy you're late!" he said. "Huh?" she replied. "I was beginning to worry you were too...obedient. I need an unpredictable girlfriend!"
So, she dumped him.
But, thankfully, that's not what happened. They had a nice date together (a much sweeter one, not as sour) and then they parted ways.
I told you earlier that I was going to criticize someone, right? So let me tell you about the "he" I was referring to previously.
His name was Michelle (you know, French) and he was one of the most skillful debaters around. He specialized in insulting his opponents into submission, and skilled he was at that.
There was once he was asked what was his opponent's next move. He dryly remarked, "I don't really care, for his smartest movement is a bowel movement."
How conceited!
Well I'm sure you'd be glad to know that he died one day, after a date. His girlfriend announced that she was leaving him, and he died of a heart attack. After losing a debate.
So.
I hope that this story will cause you to reflect and think. And if you didn't understand it, you haven't thought hard enough.
__________________________________
* Alvin & Owen refer to two people present at the Writer's Camp who were known for their penchant of using big words. No offense intended. Really.
_____________________
A breeze blew. Fluttered, went the leaves. Gazing at them, I paused...then reflected. With silent, disenchanted melancholy, I thought about how easy it is to lose yourself in the abyss that is your thoughts.
Hehehe. What rubbish that was, all in the name of showing off to others how "powderful" your "Engrish" is. I am, after all, not like Alvin* or Owen*. I do not use big words, as it can be telling of me- since the size of your words is proportional to that of your ego.
But what am I saying? I do not like to criticize people. However, for the purpose of my story, I'll be glad to make an exception.
The story begins on a cool, breezy night. Don't worry, no big words coming up. He stared into the sky, with nervousness. His hands were shaking. He had a date.
Something, no, someone caught his eye. Was it her? He grew even more nervous. He threw the date he had into his mouth and began to chew on it. It was sour, he nearly vomited, but he was glad.
His parents didn't let him have any dates, and he relished any chance of eating them.
Anyway. He spotted his girlfriend, and breathed a sigh of relief.
"You're late!" he said with joy. She looked confused. "I'm so happy you're late!" he said. "Huh?" she replied. "I was beginning to worry you were too...obedient. I need an unpredictable girlfriend!"
So, she dumped him.
But, thankfully, that's not what happened. They had a nice date together (a much sweeter one, not as sour) and then they parted ways.
I told you earlier that I was going to criticize someone, right? So let me tell you about the "he" I was referring to previously.
His name was Michelle (you know, French) and he was one of the most skillful debaters around. He specialized in insulting his opponents into submission, and skilled he was at that.
There was once he was asked what was his opponent's next move. He dryly remarked, "I don't really care, for his smartest movement is a bowel movement."
How conceited!
Well I'm sure you'd be glad to know that he died one day, after a date. His girlfriend announced that she was leaving him, and he died of a heart attack. After losing a debate.
So.
I hope that this story will cause you to reflect and think. And if you didn't understand it, you haven't thought hard enough.
__________________________________
* Alvin & Owen refer to two people present at the Writer's Camp who were known for their penchant of using big words. No offense intended. Really.
2 comments:
To be perfectly frank I think this is one of those pieces that do better when you read them aloud.
Yes. I wrote it with me presenting it in mind. Think of it that way. =)
Post a Comment