Felicity

it's a coin toss.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY you never did bite, or crunch for that matter. You dd fire the shit cannons tho.

ok quick preview these are four moments from my life creatively written in a variety of forms and structures. Wanted to put them here in case anyone else wanted to chime in on what I wrote as well. This will also include the reflective commentary I had to write about each piece too THIS IS GONNA BE LONG YOU ARE FOREWARNED THIS IS AS CLOSE TO A TL:DR AS YOU GON GET Creative C.V The new child could not tell what the man in white was saying. A family of four sat in the doctor’s office. That day he had been the bearer of bad news. The newest addition to this family had been dealt a bad hand. Not the worst, with the right support he could live perfectly fine. The mother was worried, as mothers tend to be. The father was grim, as stoic men are meant to be. The little girl was curious, as children always are. The baby boy was unaware. Unknowing. He wouldn’t know much for several years. In this moment he was blissfully ignorant. Still, the news the doctor had would be one of the roots of the child’s life. A thousand minuscule differences in his life, a hundred minor issues to overcome and a handful of things he could never know. One big bloody problem. --- My small hands shoot up into the air, pumping with pride. My lips split apart into a toothy grin as I cry out. I won! I beat the big bad boss! The fight had been gruelling, so many deaths, so many retries. My 12 year old skill had been tested to its maximum in this finale but that hadn’t stopped me. Through perseverance I had focused on the bosses every movement. I rolled, guarded and attacked with precision and surety and as a reward for my effort I now enjoyed the final cut scene. It’s sad though, after all the time I had put into the game, now it’s over. Of course, it’s a fucking cliff-hanger. A cliff-hanger I would not see the continuation of for 5 more years. Regardless I absorb the ending in a way I’ve never done for anything before. I am enraptured by this finale and as the tale draws to its momentary conclusion a new, fierce little love is born. A newfound admiration for what these games, before a source of mindless fun, could be and what they could achieve. I would go on to play almost every game in that series and I would then play them all over again on a harder difficulty. --- You step out onto the playground. It is bizarre and entirely new. You see children rush out to play on the pitch, outlined with chalk, and on the simple climbing frames scattered about. You do not know what to do and you look down to the ground, making a show of looking at your shoes. What else were you to do? Moving schools had been a whirl of confusing new meetings. You had left your old friends in favour of a fresh start at a better school. So much was simply new and as a budding creature of change that was scary. Terrifying. You are saved from your lonely little island of insecurity as you hear a voice and see a hand. The voice and the hand belong to the same person. In both is an offering. One of food and one of companionship. You accept both offers. “Um, hi, I’m Adam.” “I’m, uh, Conor.” If there is a god and he saw that moment, he probably would have taken pity on Conor. You would henceforth be friends. This isn’t for the better for the first few years, let me tell you. You will be a terror for that poor young boy whilst he will be an inspiration to you. Not exactly a fair trade. You’ll be a mean little bastard. He’ll be forgiving though and then, well, then you’ll get one step closer to being me --- Nine students sit in an empty classroom. Seven boys, two girls. In the hands of five of them are cards. Each of them chatter as the game progresses, some are more talkative than others. “Next game still Three Down?” One person asks innocently. “Nah, Cheat.” Another demands eagerly. “Cheat games never end…” The sombre reminder calls back memories of a very long, systematic game. Not that it would matter. One young man, Adam, is sat quietly contemplating the game over black spectacles and through spikes of long, lanky hair that obscures his vision. He only chimes in occasionally with a snarky quip or a clumsy comment. Most of his attention is on the game at hand. As is the nature of the game, Adam is utterly screwed by Lady Luck. Despite his efforts he picks up the pile of cards, again and again. Soon the only players in the game are him and Conor, the resigned butt of every joke. This is the most interesting part though. Who can escape the jaws of failure? Who can play the other the most? It probably won’t be Conor. Adam considers his hand shrewdly. He has the joker. He can use that to devastating effect. He just has to let the pile build. Several turns pass. The joker is played and whoops of laughter at the long haired young man’s opponent fill the room. Conor is, naturally, disgruntled. A few more turns pass. Adam feels a card slide onto his knee. He discreetly picks it up and surreptitiously glances at his benefactor, who is obscuring a grin with his hand. Adam smirks with a note of smugness that was disgusting to his opponent. “Another joker?!” More laughter fills the room. Adam laughs the hardest of them all, revelling in the bold move. He is getting closer to winning but his hand is not empty yet and, oh no, he can’t play… Another card is placed on his knee. When the third joker is played Conor protests. Loudly. “What the fuck Adam?!” The crafty young man finally picks up again. Turns pass. The pile builds. The room erupts with more laughter. “Honestly, I had another joker!” No card was placed on his knee though. This time there was no benefactor other than his own deft hands. Reflective commentary. First, in regards to moment 1 I decided to use the detachment of third person to touch on the emotions of each person in the doctor’s office. This is a moment I have only been told of and so the importance is based in the emotional aspect. Thus I eschew descriptive detail in preference of a focus on my family as well as touching on the impact it has had on me. I’ve used the doctor and his bad news to get across to the audience that something is bad, informing them without damaging any sense of immediacy through detailed explanation. In doing this I also tried to play on the reader’s sympathy by talking about my family in turn, maintaining a short clipped pace with a split sentence that creates the feeling of a snapshot look at them. They provide the touchstones to understanding the situation. The final line “One big bloody problem” is a strong, short finale to the passage that sums up the nature of the problem without spelling it out. The adjectives are something you’d more commonly hear used to describe something that is just an annoying hassle and convey exactly that to the audience. The audience can surmise that this is a problem but not a terrible one and they can also decide for themselves what it may be, leaving them thinking about the piece for a little while afterwards. Next, this second piece uses first person because this details an experience that is subjectively important to me. Playing a game is an ordinary thing but by using the first person perspective I can more directly impart to the audience what I took from that moment. I imparted some sensory details by describing some of the games mechanics but I left a lot out so that an unfamiliar audience could still connect to what I’m trying to say even if they haven’t played many games themselves. I refer to myself and describe the moment in the past tense, thinking of my “12 year old skill” to help orient the audience. I am looking back on the moment rather than writing during it. I considered doing that but I felt the audiences understanding of my age at the time was easier and more important to convey. For my third moment I experimented a little with second person. Most of it really is second person, spoken as though the audience is in the same shoes as myself at the time. However the final line of the piece directly refers to “me” and this last line twists the audience’s perspective on the scene. The final line now suggests that this was one long piece of dialogue or a letter, as though talking to myself. This both expresses a desire to talk to myself in the past, the long asked question “If you could tell your past-self anything, what would you ask?” we’ve all probably asked helping to further connect the audience to the moment emotionally, and also hopefully inviting the audience to be more active as they think the piece through again, looking at it again with the new information. This is an attempt to engage the reader in a more indirect way when compared to my other two pieces prior. Rather than making the piece more accessible I made it more interesting for the audience to take part. Finally, the last moment. Similarly to the first moment it is in third person. The two are distinct in that the fourth moment has a greater emphasis on descriptive details and focuses on a single subject, myself, rather than an ensemble like the first. I put more effort into building a sense of tension through structure and described my actions more to try and make the game itself more engaging. I use rhetorical questions to compound on this further. I also use the emphasis on description to lead my audience by the nose. I’m in constant control of what they’re thinking about by setting precedents and bringing details to the forefront of their attention, being given the joker, and then specifically leaving out a detail, subtly grabbing the joker myself at the end, to then reveal it later for a greater dramatic effect. In general there’s a streak of dramatic flair to this piece that I use to try and make it a little more comedic, such as the exaggerated dialogue that stads an undescribed exclamation, this lets the audience engage with the piece a little by imagining the tone of the reaction themselves. Further, the fourth moment plays off of my third. Both include Conor and, when read together, sets up a pre-existing idea of Conor before the fourth moment starts that informs the audience going into the moment. I decided on a mix of comedic and serious tones in my moments as a result of reading Stephen King’s “On Writing”. The writing in the creative CV of this book varied. Sometimes it was serious and sombre and sometimes it was quite comedic with a dry sense of humour I enjoyed. I wanted to incorporate some of this variety into my own work to try and help distinguish each moment. This also helped inspire me to try and differentiate each moment more beyond changing the form between first, second and third and to try and twist these forms towards a specific aim.

Dio tbh.

Doesn't even matter. I'm still going to wake up everyday, still going to eat breakfast, still gonna go through my daily routine. Whether I'm an animal or not.

I'm sorry you can't find peace from this tumult. I'm afraid there's nothing we can do. I'm confident you have the strength to find some resolution though Wendel. People are strong, so are you.

Not enough.

Psn actually runs a fair amount of sales year round and older titles tend to go pretty cheap in case youre looking to round out your library with some classics.

oh btw Fable 3 was shit. Either you're loved by ghosts or hated by people unless you spent a lot of time on real estate. After killing your fuckin father figure. Feelsbadman.

she reminds me more of jarvan.

we need this to work again

in the shower i dwell on the inescapable realism and crushing defeat that is life, love and everything in between with a stark, bleak outlook that would be terrifying to behold. whilst singing to Taylor Swift. #showertunes

Last year I took some babies from a candy.

Cindy clapped in delight at Marius' show. With every pair of her hands she ended up being a small chunk of applause by herself in the crowd. "That's fantastic!" She said. Cindy felt like a little kid watching the little show. Well, she was still a kid but, a littler one. "You're as skilled as the stories say!"

Cindy wanted to ask more but the smirk just made her feel more embarrassed and, well, Rame was speaking. She still terrified Cindy. Better to wait her turn... Cindy's hands though were still spinning in the rafters of the auditorium.

Cindy sat up so quickly one might have heard her spine pop in protest. Her hands whirled up, spiralling into the sky and fanning each other as though in shock and awe. Cindy tried to squeal but had forgotten to actually open her lips, resulting in a muffled squeal and cheeks puffing up, framing wide eyes that made her seem very much like a gagged squirrel. "Ohmigoshohmigoshohmigosh" She blurted. "Coerators?! Ohmigosh I can't believe it aaaaaaah" Poor Cindy then remembered that she was actually speaking, went deathly pale in horror and then very light pink as an embarrased blush fought its way onto her face. "C-can you sp-speak to other animals of your species?" Wait, what? Why did she ask that no what stop. Sure, she'd always wondered but why was that the first thing she asked? Lords above she could feel the blush burning on her cheeks.