Angst and Lots of Poor Writing

July 1, 2009

Suddenly it is summer in Colorado. This is good news bears except for the fact that I have a heatstroke every single night while trying to fall asleep. (This is mainly because we refuse to use our air conditioning. We ain’t got no money!)

Have you guys read The Pioneer Woman’s blog? She dresses her dog Charlie in sundresses and sweatpants. And then posts photos of him. So obviously, best blog ever. You should visit it. Except you have to promise to return to mine at some point. Even though she’s much funnier. And has better pictures. And is a better writer. Please come back.

Our utility bill is $14,000 this month. This is because we’ve been watering our weed-infested lawn a lot. The weeds are quite green though, if I do say so myself. Upon receiving this bill, I have realized that I couldn’t care less if our lawn is brown and dead because it certainly doesn’t seem worth it to spend a bazillion dollars on grass. I would rather spend a bazillion dollars on nightgown dresses and Doritos.

So, I saw My Sister’s Keeper. And yes, I obv cried. However, they changed the entire book. Important things. Twist-like things that make the book memorable. Why do movies always gotta change everything? I would be really annoyed if I wrote a book and someone wanted to turn it into a movie but change every important and meaningful thing about it. Whatever.

Denise and Kate -- Friendsies.

Denise and Kate -- Friendsies.

So I would like to give a shout-out to my friend, Kate. Mainly I am doing this because she asked me to. Kate and I were roommates for two years in college. We were the kind of roommates who got along well because we mostly watched TV and ate chips. Also, we would chat on AIM while sitting three feet away from one another. Bosom buddies, really.

It was with Kate that I watched the series finale of “Friends,” and it was Kate who helped me get through statistics class (Worst class of my life. Tell me one person who cares about statistics. If you care about statistics, maybe you should go visit Pioneer Woman’s blog. And stay awhile.).

It was into Kate’s and my dorm room that I walked after taking a shower one Tuesday. I found her watching the television and crying because a plane had just flown into one of the Twin Towers. Crazy.

Anyway, Kate is legit. Hi, Kate. You better be reading this. Otherwise, I just spent an entire couple of paragraphs being nice to someone who doesn’t even read my blog. Rude.

Here’s something else: I found an old notebook from my high school writing class. It’s an excruciating read. I think you should share my horror.

I thought this line was pretty deeply moving and indicative of myΒ teenage angst:

Fade to black, rhythm turned back. The night has gone. My song unsung.

And then there’s the one in which I lament my long life and dashed dreams. I am maybe sixteen:

Jaded anger—unseeing, unforgiving. My thoughts turned cold, frozen in the span of eternity. My hopes—once vibrant—now crusted with age.

In this one, I show off my descriptive skills:

The water is not exactly blue, but more amethyst, and it reflects all the colors imaginable.

I think this one was the result of my mother not letting me stay out as late as the rest of my friends. Difficult time of life. I’m still trying to recover:

All of the good times that turned bad, all the peace that turned into chaos, all of the sweet that turned sour.

And finally, the best of the bunch. Again, I’m working with descriptions here, visually bringing you into the story. I am a craftsman of words—my passion is my art, my art is my passion. Please, hold your applause until the end:

It is so hot today that my skin is no longer skin, but a clammy, sweaty pile of … stuff. It is so hot today that my hair is soaking wet, and I haven’t put any water on it.

Seriously? Really? I was in high school—I should’ve been a much better writer by then. Luckily, I’ve totally improved. It’s like now, my words are rocks skipping on a kind of blueish, more purpley, amethyst-like pond of bitter-sweetness.

How embarrassing.

Have a great day! (I’ve heard it might be hot. Your hair may mysteriously end up soaking wet…)


14 Responses to “Angst and Lots of Poor Writing”

  1. Micah said

    Those are hysterical. I almost died. Regardless, I’m pretty sure you were ten times the writer I was in high school. Even with the “sweaty pile of…stuff.”

  2. Ashley said

    I am SO HAPPY you shared that with the world! Someday I will share with you my poetry from a college class I took. The best part was doing an interpretive reading of our classmates’ poems for our neighbors down the hall. Perhaps that was the beginning of my OMT skillz.

  3. Jill said

    We should post videos of some of your plays. Also painful. Although, I could never write as well as you did in HS.

  4. Lydia said

    Hey wait, did you win a magazine contest in high school? Just goes to show you have to accept the bad with the good sometimes. =)

  5. bonnie said

    You are too cute! Adolescent angst is so powerful and real at the time. That is why I love teenagers so much. Thanks for sharing…and yes, you were a beautiful budding writer back then.

  6. agapelovelle said

    you should see my journal writings back then. your entries are way more decent! hahaha. πŸ™‚

  7. katherine said

    Oh good times!! Thanks for the shout out Denise! Love ya πŸ™‚

  8. Micki said

    Denise! Gotta love those old writing notebooks! I bet by the time our 20-year UST reunion rolls around we’ll be looking at the Aquin going “My God, did I seriously write that?!” Anywho, I too have the embarrassing poetic past. Yep, I did write a poem with the title, “My Daddy Taught Me How to Eat Artichokes.” W-O-W. I’m blushing from embarrassment right now. Keep up the writing! πŸ˜€

  9. denisemorris said

    I would love it if you shared all of your writing journals as well. I think we could get some really good/crappy stuff.

    Micki–I have already looked back at a few Aquin articles. Horrible. πŸ™‚ Please share your artichoke story with us–I think we’d all appreciate it! πŸ™‚

  10. Natalie S. said

    Wow Denise some of your former stuff was very boarderline “Dashboard Confessional” haha. Im pretty sure that at the time it was very moving and emo. I used to write some of the same stuff.

  11. denisemorris said

    Ha! I did like Dashboard. Screaming infidelities and such. πŸ˜‰

  12. Becky said

    Better than the PW’s blog is her recipes. They’re amazing! You should try them.

  13. LeAn said

    Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my dear Lord. Oh gosh. I almost cried laughing as I read your eloquent, enthralling writing samples.

    But please know I was laughing not at but WITH you. You see…I have some journals dating back to when I was, like….12. And they continue through high school. Annnnd I can totally relate to feeling embarrassed as I read them…props to you for posting your masterpieces online. Sometimes I want to burn mine, but always refrain when I remember that someday it’ll help me understand my own melodramatic teenage daughter.

    I used to think that my diaries, like Anne Frank’s, would surely be read (with great awe and admiration at such wit and wisdom) by my posterity. So I emoted as much as possible. One of my favorite lines (written in response to my brother annoying me or something) was “Oh, the nerve!” Such emotion. Such depth.

  14. denisemorris said

    LeAn–so awesome. I think maybe you should publish your diary like Anne Frank’s. I mean, perhaps you will inspire the world with your outrage at the nerve of some people! πŸ™‚

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