within56hours

[within56hours]

56 Hours Gone

23 March 2015

Post all written outputs. Make sure links work. Finalize blog. Check, check and check.

Goodbye, tumblr.

[within56hours]

My Notebook

Gritty photos of the notebook I used throughout the semester.

[within56hours]

Time

She knows all the lands But streets of New York weave though Her brown, wrinkled hands

A haiku.

Written on: 17 March 2015

Written by: MJL

Photo: A painting by Andrew Wyeth, Christina Olson.

[within56hours]

Wuthering Heights

Rain on the prairie Blades of grass bow down to pray Vultures come to play

A haiku.

Written on: 17 March 2015

Written by: MJL

Photo: A painting by LS Lowry, Wuthering Heights

[within56hours]

Spring

Fawns sprint to the stream Maddened to taste their first Spring Where the trouts do swim

A haiku.

Written on: 17 March 2015

Written by: MJL

Photo: A painting by Thomas Hill, Deer in a Landscape

[within56hours]

Lavender

Clouds hover too close Fairies dance in the meadow Roses droop and droop 

A haiku.

Written on: 17 March 2015

Written by: MJL

Photo: Sophia Zhou

[within56hours]

Moonshine

Wolves howl at the moon Children sleeping in their room The sun shall rise soon

A haiku.

Written on: 17 March 2015

Written by: MJL

Photo: Freddie Ardley

[within56hours]

Autumn ‘89

“You guys know the haunted house at Cromwell Street?” Tim asked his friends. “Yeah,” one of the twins yawned “but it’s not haunted!” “It is too!” Tim insisted. Before the two could start fighting, the other twin asked which house they were talking about. “The one beside the cemetery. Duh!” Amy said. “They say the old man who lives there exhumes dead bodies on Halloween night.” Tim said in the spookiest voice he could muster. His friends looked at him with disinterest, apart from one of the twins, whose hands were getting clammy. It’s Halloween night and they were stuck at Amy’s house because they decided that trick-or-treating wasn’t “cool” anymore. “I’m bored!” Brad complained. “That’s why we’re going!” Tim exclaimed. By past ten, the cellar door creaked open. Tim slipped in first, followed by Amy, Brad and then the twins. “I knew this was a bad idea!” one of the twins whispered as darkness engulfed them. Brad turned on the flashlight. It flickered off and died. Suddenly, the overhead lights turned on. The boys screamed. “Hush!” Amy laughed. “I found the switch.” Barrels lined the wall. Within minutes, they were drunk. “Where were you?” Tim’s mom shouted. It was way past midnight. “Just out. With friends.” He said and ran to his room. Two weeks later, as Tim ate his breakfast, a local news reporter announced that a cannibal from 109 Cromwell Street was caught.

“Investigators say Mr. Eddie Blackwell preserved the bodies inside wine barrels in his cellar.”

A 250-word flash fiction.

Written on: 11 February 2015

Written by: MJL

Photo: Skyler Brown

[within56hours]

Parody: All About That Bass

Because this song’s all about that fake ‘bout that fake feminist This song’s all about that fake ‘bout that fake feminist It could’ve been about female rights (female rights) But it’s all about that fake ‘bout that fake

Yeah, the critics say you’re a hypocrite So you just shake it, shake it Like all the “cool” kids do You say it’s just wrong to focus on body size Yet that’s what you do throughout your video

I see you’re trying to make people love themselves We know that SH- ain’t real C’mon now make it stop If you got beauty, beauty just raise ‘em up ‘Cause every inch of you is perfect From the bottom to the top

Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t listen to your mama so much She says you should base your self-worth off size and pleasing boys You know you’re only mimicking those “silicone Barbie dolls” But if that’s what you’re into then go ahead and move along

A parody written solely for my Creative Writing class.

Written on: 4 February 2015

Photo: Meghan Trainor’s single

[within56hours]

Seventeen

1.      Sleep

2.      Drink milk

3.       Eat. Defecate. Sleep.

4.       First day of preschool.

5.       Met my first best friend.

6.       First day of elementary school.

7.       Role playing with my brother and sisters.

8.       I caught dragonflies with my guy best friend.

9.       Read Nancy Drew; had our first pet, guinea pigs.

10.   Transferred to a new school; dubbed quietest girl in class.

11.   Dad bought us our first dog, as compromised, was named Johnny.

12.   Formally introduced to Psychology; spent my afternoons with friends in the library.

13.   My first bouquet of red roses; my first novel by my favourite writer.

14.   I wrote my first poem; I attended my first funeral; I was very unhappy.

15.   I met someone who taught me how to be happy again; I graduated from high school.

16.   Began my first day of college; was confused and alone again; met new and wonderful people.

17.   I finally have a clearer picture of my future ahead and I am learning to love myself.

A self-reflection exercise.

How it works: We were asked to number our paper from one to our current age. On each number, we were to summarize our entire year with the exact same amount of words that the corresponding year consisted of. 

Written on: 8 January 2015

Written by: MJL

[within56hours]

Coffee Shop Conversations

“It bucks me up” were the first words I heard that came out of his mouth as I listened in on snippets of his conversation with the guy in a striped blue shirt. I remember there weren’t many people then. You could hear the clock ticking when the barista mutes the TV. I remember burning my tongue then as I concentrated too intently on eavesdropping, and I would have burned my tongue twice just to hear his voice longer. But coffee shops were never meant for lonely people.

Half a year passed. People come and go. I spent most of my days listening to classroom lectures while birds hopped about the windowsill. Most nights, I read. Half a year passed, and though people come and go, I’ve learnt that some places remain. There’s something sad about revisiting them when you’ve left so long ago and you realize that nothing’s changed but you. They become akin to gravesites, like memorials to younger, sadder you – if you’re lucky enough anyway.

The first time we sat down together, a couple sitting three tables from ours were arguing in what may as well have been Chinese. Silverware clattered like church bells; wooden chairs scraped on wooden floorboards. A year ago, I would have found these sights and sounds far too fascinating to ignore. Today, all these were but distant to me, apart from when the man sitting three tables down decided to paint his wife’s face with bruises. As the door swung shut with a groan, Darren from behind the counter sighs, “it’s very tense around here today.”

Written on: 27 November 2014

Written by: MJL

Photo: Vincent van Gogh’s Cafe Terrace at Night

[within56hours]

Childhood

Pink ribbon buried in ebony hair. Hair cut short with my mother’s shears. Yellow shirt trimmed with pink, faded in the camera’s flashing light. Overalls that was a size too big. 

These are four accurate descriptions of me almost a decade ago. It was most likely my father who captured this photograph, and if he had taken it three steps backward, I reckon we would have seen my untied shoe laces and my fingers fidgeting like flamingo feathers as well. My hair has grown longer now; darker too. My mother had finally quit her habit of cutting it herself when I turned nine, amid my relentless complaints. These days, pink ribbons are no longer anywhere in sight. My cheeks are a little less round and my lips are now prone to cracks. Yet to this day, if one would look close enough, they’d notice my scar has yet to heal. My lips have yet to smile. My eyes have yet to shine. -MJL

Written on: 25 November 2014

[within56hours]

Universe

The stars are like your eyes They glow softly as Saturn’s ring. The trees are like your limbs They sway softly; weakly flailing.

Black holes seen from telescopes They pulse like your heart: a witch’s curse. Don’t you lose any hope For you see, you are the universe.

Written on: 20 November 2014

Written by: MJL

Photos by: Skyler Brown and my amazingly talented friend, Celeste Ferrer.

[within56hours]

01 March 2015

Create blog. Customize. Post first update.  Check, check and check.

Hello, tumblr.