Static Waves

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. The crescent waves crashed softly against the shore, creating a subtle roar that echoed in the early hours of the morning. I gazed out into the quiet, a somber drizzle wetting my dress. A foghorn sounded and corrupted the calm. I closed my eyes at the familiar sound, a song that few of us knew. My mother told me England was no longer safe for me when she sent me off to live with a family I had never met in a country I had never known. England had skies quite like this one that were grey and unwelcoming. The soldiers began marching through the streets, their brows furrowed and their uniforms crisp. There was breaking glass, screams, and the sound of an angry jet engine in the evening sky. My beautiful home had been corrupted by hate. 
I stayed many nights on that hulking boat, the young children screaming for their mothers prevented me from sleep and created midnight-tinted bags under my chestnut eyes.  I used to have my mother's eyes, warm and innocent. It seemed as if now, mine had turned the opposite. When the boat lurched into the dock, America welcomed me with open arms that I reluctantly ran into. I am indeed thankful for my new home, my teachers are kind and the family I stay with is joyful and beautiful. After dinner, we gather around the hulking oak radio and listen to stories of the courageous western cowboys. I pray my father will be as brave as them.  I pray that I will be brave, too. 
Even though it seems as if I should be happy, I find myself at the cloudy port every Saturday morning, before the daylight warmth touches the sky. I sit on the edge of the creaking dock, my legs swaying off the side. My shaking hands reach out into the fog, the musty spray splashing on them. I let out a longing sigh that echoes across the ocean. I hope it reaches home. I think that maybe if I kept things to myself I'd be better off. I was such a joyful child, but now I feel weak and worn-as if the happiness I once had has been ripped out of my chest in one swipe. Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.

Famous First and Last Lines

Famous First Line: "The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel."

This is the first line of the novel Neuromancer by William Gibson. He was born on March 17th, 1948. Neuromancer  is a science fiction novel that was published in 1984. It was the first book written that depicted the era of Cyberpunk: future societies where technology has advanced, but crime and corruption have as well. The main character, Case, is an unemployed hacker who is contacted by Armitage who wants Case to steal online data for him. He eventually breaks into Wintermute, an artificial intelligence program which ends up becoming too powerful. 

You could not pay me all the money in the world to read this book. I have absolutely no interest in "Cyberpunk" or dystopias. I know that this was the original start of that idea, but I have read too many dystopian novels to be interested in yet another one. I only picked the quote because of the beautiful imagery. If I had known the novel's background would be as awful as it was, I would have just picked something else. 

Famous Last Line: “Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.”

This is the last line of The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. He was born on January 1st, 1919  and died on January 27th, 2010. The Catcher in the Rye was published in 1951 and was originally written for adults, but teenagers read it as well for its coming-of-age theme. The story follows Holden Caufield, a teenager who has escaped his prep school for an adventure alone in New York City. He questions what his purpose in life is, if he belongs, and the concept of loss. In the last pages of the novel, he examines how fragile humanity is, and he decides that it is better to keep his feelings and experiences to himself. 

I read this book last year in English 3 and I loved it. I immediately recognized this quote. It gives me chills every single time I read it. Before I read the book, my English teacher Mrs. Bright-Kaufman gave me the idea to read this novel at all different stages of my life. After I finished it, I definitely see why she said that. I plan to buy this book and read it next before I leave for college. 

My Favorite Quotes

My Take on Horoscopes

I am very interested in the zodiac, mostly because I find it to be very accurate. I obviously take it all with a grain of salt, but it is fun to see what all is true. Daily horoscopes are much less believable to me than the overall personality traits of the signs.
I am a Cancer born on July 21st. If you are born on or close to the end/start date of a sign, you are on a cusp. For instance, the cutoff for Cancer is the 22nd of July. Since I am so close to that, I am a Cancer/Leo cusp and take on traits of both.

Aquarius - January 21 - February 19
Strengths
- Witty
- Clever
- Humanitarian
- Inventive
- Original
 Weaknesses
- Stubborn
- Unemotional
- Sarcastic
- Rebellious
- Aloof

Pisces - February 20- March 20
 Strengths
- Compassionate
- Adaptable
- Accepting
- Devoted
- Imaginative
Weaknesses
- Oversensitive
- Indecisive
- Self-pitying
- Lazy
- Escapist

Aries - March 21 - April 20
Strengths
- Independent
- Generous
- Optimistic
- Enthusiastic
- Courageous
Weaknesses
- Moody
- Short tempered
- Self-involved
- Impulsive
- Impatient

Taurus - April 21 - May 21
Strengths
- Dependable
- Persistent
- Loyal
- Patient
- Generous
Weaknesses
- Stubborn
- Laziness
- Possessive
- Materialistic
- Self-indulging

Gemini - May 22 - June 21
Strengths
- Energetic
- Clever
- Imaginative
- Witty
- Adaptable
Weaknesses
- Superficial
- Impulsive
- Restless
- Devious
- Indecisive


Cancer - June 22 - July 22
Strengths
- Loyalty
- Dependable
- Caring
- Adaptable
- Responsive
Weaknesses
- Moody
- Clingy
- Self-pitying
- Oversensitive
- Self-absorbed

Leo - July 23 -August 21
Strengths
- Confident
- Ambitious
- Generous
- Loyal
- Encouraging
Weaknesses
- Pretentious
- Domineering
- Melodramatic
- Stubborn
- Vain

Virgo - August 22 - September 23
Strengths
- Analytical
- Observant
- Helpful
- Reliable
- Precise
Weaknesses
- Skeptical
- Fussy
- Inflexible
- Cold
- Interfering

Libra - September 24 - October 23
Strengths
- Diplomatic
- Graceful
- Peaceful
- Idealistic
- Hospitable
Weaknesses
- Superficial
- Vain
- Indecisive
- Unreliable

Scorpio - October 24 - November 2
Strengths
- Loyal
- Passionate
- Resourceful
- Observant
- Dynamic
Weaknesses
- Jealous
- Obsessive
- Suspicious
- Manipulative
- Unyielding

Sagittarius - November 23 - December 22
Strengths
- Independent
- Adventurous
- Friendly
- Optimistic
Weaknesses
- Unemotional
- Unreliable
- Bores Easily

Capricorn - December 23 - January 20
Strengths
- Responsible
- Patient
- Ambitious
- Resourceful
- Loyal
Weaknesses
- Dictatorial
- Inhibited
- Conceited
- Distrusting
- Unimaginative


I am the poster child of Cancer! I am a maternal and caring person, with emotions to spare. I am very sensitive and moody as well. Once someone gets to know me, I open up, but I tend to be shy around people I have never met.
If you ever wonder how well you and me will get along (according to our zodiac signs), keep reading. I have found that as a generalization, I get along with certain signs and bump heads with others. It's either a coincidence or I really just don't mesh well with certain personalities.

Aquarius: My mom is an Aquarius and we definitely have our moments of tension. Since I am such a protector, it bothers me when people don't wear their heart on their sleeve, and this sign usually doesn't. I'd give my compatibility with this sign a 4 out of 10

Pisces: I love Pisces! I get along with them really well. They are very creative people. I think the only thing I've noticed about them that I don't like is their indecisiveness. 9 out of 10

Aries: I always have to tread lightly with this sign. I find myself trying to take everything they say with a grain of salt and appreciate their brutal honesty, but sometimes its way too brutal for my emotional self. 2 out of 10

Taurus: I get along with Taurus alright. They are generous people and enjoy having "stuff". Many of my Taurus friends will often pay for my food and buy me things when we go out. They are a bit too materialistic for me. 5 out of 10

Gemini: I don't know any Geminis personally. If you're a Gemini come talk to me! ? out of 10

Cancer: I definitely get along with my own kind. The only bad thing is that when a Cancer is in their "shell", it is hard to get them out of it. The protector in me is bothered by people not opening up to me. 9 out of 10

Leo: Leos are very likely to be debaters or celebrities because of their confidence. I admire them, but I don't get along with them very well because they are quite loud and over-the-top. 4 out of 10

Virgo: Virgos make great teachers! They are amazing listeners. They are the voice of reason and sometimes that can make people upset with them. 9 out of 10

Libra: Libras make awesome friends. They are hilarious. But often they do not follow through with promises and handle conflict by completely shutting others out. 6 out of 10

Scorpio: I love their sense of humor! They are dark, sarcastic, mysterious people. They aren't always open through which bothers me. 7 out of 10

Sagittarius: They are fun people and they always encourage me to try new things and be adventurous. I would never date one though, because they are not very committed and tend to be so carefree that they stop taking care of themselves. 6 out of 10

Capricorn: Capricorns are very logical and I always go to them for advice because I think 100% with my heart and they think 100% with their head. Opposites attract. 7 out of 10

Writers as Readers

1. When I read, I always need a comfortable space. I am a fast reader, so any distraction and I can miss pages of plot by the end of the book. I always read in my bedroom with soft music. I love playing music that reminds me of the characters and their stories. I enjoy natural light, so I will also read outside in the hammock we have set up in our backyard. I will either fix myself a hot drink or I will snack on Cheese-Its or something of that nature.

4. One of my best memories connected to reading is being so immersed in the Maximum Ride series. I remember being at church during youth group on Wednesday nights, racing around with my friends and pretending we were characters in the book. We would imagine that we had wings and that we were part of an experiment to genetically mutate children. I always played my favorite character, Iggy. There was something about him that I fell in love with as a reader. I remember being so connected with those books. They were my entire childhood up until 8th grade.

11. I think the reader is the most important thing to consider when writing. You want to get your idea across, but you don't want it to be too personal or abstract to where your writing is not relate-able. Sometimes people will leave out key details about a story because they already know the situation or the people in it. I always try to ask myself about what someone would think or still want to know if they had never read the piece.

13. I think I might write a book one day. If the proper plot an inspiration comes to me, I think I could definitely succeed as a writer. At this point, I've started a lot of prompts for possible ideas, but I have a hard time organizing my thoughts so it is not easy for me to come up with a plot that people can follow. My "About the Author" would probably say "Laura Payne grew up in the town of Springfield, Missouri, where she developed her passion for literature. She graduated high school with over 6 English credits, and was active in Speech and Debate and theater. She currently lives in an apartment on the west coast, where she spends her days writing and playing with her fat cat."

The Catcher in the Rye

I read "The Catcher in the Rye" last year in my English 3 class. It is a pretty fast read, but it is one that I think that no one should go without reading at some point. There is not much of a plot; its mostly just the main character, Holden, ranting about growing up.
I fell in love with Holden. His spirit captivated me as a reader. He makes observations about the world and its injustices in a way that is so relate able to teenagers and adults alike. He runs away from his private school to try to experience what the "real world" is like. He vocalized almost everything that I want or think and he expresses his opinion about the pressure that is placed on teenagers to figure out what they want to do or be.

"But what I mean is, lots of time you don't know what interests you most till you start talking about something that doesn't interest you most. I mean you can't help it sometimes. What I think is, you're supposed to leave somebody alone if he's at least being interesting and he's getting all excited about something. I like it when somebody gets excited about something. It's nice."

I love the little observations he makes. I am a people watcher and I adore seeing people being passionate about something. It was comforting to see a book published in 1951 validate everything you feel.

The last line of the book left me with chills.

"If you want to know the truth, I don't know what I think about it. I'm sorry I told so many people about it. About all I know is, I sort of miss everybody I told about. Even old Stradlater and Ackley, for instance. I think I even miss that goddam Maurice. It's funny. Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

If I Were In Charge of the World

If I were in charge of the world
I'd cancel intolerance,
ignorance,
sickness, and also
Donald Trump.

If I were in charge of the world there'd be longer sunsets,
shorter school days, and
good cafeteria food.

If I were in charge of the world
you wouldn't have poverty.
You wouldn't have stress.
You wouldn't have envy.
Or "do your math homework."
You wouldn't even have math.

If I were in charge of the world
a gooey brownie with ice cream would be a vegetable.
All religions would accept each other,
and a person who sometimes forgot "please"
and sometimes forgot "thank you"
would still be allowed to be in charge of the world.

Pillow Talk

Most nights begin like any other in my little house on Evans street. There is nothing glamorous or special about my ratty old shirts and shorts I sleep in. My hair is up in a floppy bun, auburn curls slipping out and making my hair look like wildfire. I turn on Netflix to watch my embarrassing array of docudramas, my eyes drooping and popping open when I hear the tri tone of my text ringtone. Most of my texts come from my best friend Caleb, who is off to college in Arkansas. We talk about how our day went and the new people hes met, a laugh occasionally escaping my mouth.

I exhaust myself into sleep. My mind is silent until the hours or minutes or seconds before I wake at 5:30 A.M. Suddenly, a splash of color appears behind my closed eyes. A scene is painted. There is the calm sound of grumbling waves on the sandy shore, the sun beating down. I recognize two faces, but I seem to be watching the scene from some sort of window above the earth. Mitchell is running through the sand, frantically kneeling by a lifeless body.

I recognize the dark hair.
I know that small frame.
I've seen those closed eyes in slumber,
but never like this.

The paramedics arrived, pumping the chest of my best friend. I remember several thoughts running through my subconscious. The words I spoke to him in the waking world were the same as the ones in my dream. Those were my last words.

No "I love you"
No "I'll miss you"
No "I'm sorry"

My eyes shot open, my heart pounding at full speed. My throat felt like I had been screaming to wake up. Reality hit me like the waves on the shore from my dream. Immediately I grabbed my phone to see if Caleb was okay. I remember worrying about him all that day until he woke up and replied. I took that morning to think about life and how fragile it is. That dream will always be in the back of my mind, haunting me with the thought that life can be over in a matter of seconds.
                              

The Owl and the Crow

The old owl said to the black, young crow,
there are many things I've yet to know
the owl is wise, but even so,
the crow does not believe him.

The young owl wondered what was right
when he was lost in the dead of night
should he land, should he take flight?
The owl's now old, but out of spite,
the crow does not believe him.

The sun has set on a winters day
the owl's too old to stalk his prey
and he wonders where his next meal lays
the owl is frail, but to his dismay,
the crow does not believe him.

The crow goes swooping through the skies
screeching out his battle cries
not a care if he lives or dies
and the wise old owl lets out a sigh
for the crow would not believe him.

Author's Note: inspired by Caged Bird by Maya Angelou

The Anatomy of a Dream

I like to think that dreams are symbolic. I usually search what the meanings of objects or people in my dreams are if I remember one that stands out to me. Sometimes, my dreams are very realistic, and others are completely insane. The first dream I ever remember in full detail I had in 4th grade. I won't go into details because it was quite lengthy, but it involved a merman pig that was buying flowers in an underwater supermarket. In the most recent dream I can remember, my best friend died. That just goes to show how much the subject of my dreams change. Because of my interest in dream interpretation, I have acquired some interesting object meanings through the years. Most objects are pretty self explanatory. For instance, if you dream of an oxygen mask, it means you are feeling suffocated. If you dream of fruit, it means you are feeling energized or healthy. If you dream of death of any sort, you feel as if you are losing someone or possibly a part of yourself. 
I personally believe that lucid dreaming and astral projection are possible. Lucid dreaming is not a spiritual experience, it is just a matter of connecting your body and your mind while you are sleeping; most of the time, the two are separate while you are asleep. I personally have not had the concentration to lucid dream in addition to the fact that I have been too scared. With things like that, you have to be in the correct mindset, and I am a person who is always worried or stressed about something. 
Astral projection is even harder to do than lucid dreaming. I think that only very spiritual people are able to do it, considering it is a journey into the spirit world. Astral projection is another thing that I am too afraid of. I have heard of people going into sleep paralysis from it, and honestly it is not worth the risk in my opinion. Even though I have never experienced it myself, I have met people who have and who have described their experience in great detail. 

Writers Dreaming

1. In I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou writes,  
"The caged bird sings
with fearful trillof the things unknownbut longed for stilland his tune is heardon the distant hill for the caged birdsings of freedom."
By this, she means the caged bird really only sings because it is longing to escape. The poem also states that the caged bird does not really even sing; it lets out a fearful trill or a scream. She writes about the contrast of the free bird and how independent it is as opposed to the caged bird. I think that as long as a person has it worse than someone else, even a little bit, they will always long for the better thing until they can obtain it themselves. A lot of people have dreamed of freedom, especially if they have something holding them back in life, whether that be disability, gender, race, sexuality, or any other minority, struggle, etc. Unfortunately, the reality is that not everyone can live to see a day when they are truly "free", and many generations will have to suffer their lives in a "cage" before later generations or groups can be free. The positive to this is that once they are freed, they can be free forever, and that's when hope becomes a huge motivator for those who are suffering.

5. When Angelou was sexually assaulted by her mother's boyfriend and he died a day later, she did not talk for five years because she thought that her words could kill. I would personally never do that because I've always been someone who is open about their struggles and I am honest about who has hurt me in the past. For instance, I was bullied in elementary and middle school for my hair and my last name. I always immediately reported the people who taunted me, and I proceeded to send an email to my friends and family about "ginger suicide rates" with statistics I got of of Wikipedia. As funny as that is now that I look back on it, I am still kind of that way now, just less extreme. I am pretty confrontational when I hear of someone talking behind my back or doing something to hurt others. 
When I relate myself Angelou's muteness, I do not think I talk too much. I am shy around those who I don't know very well, and I am definitely the "listener" of my friend group as opposed to the talker. I adore listening to people. I have actually asked homeless people to tell me their life stories in exchange for money. I have learned so much about humanity and how everyone has a different personality to bring to the table. I have also learned what types of personalities I do not get along with and how to coexist with them. 
Many of my closest friends are very outgoing, and I like to think I get along with almost everyone because people respond very well to interest in what they have to say. My ability to listen is also a reason why I want to be a psychologist. I think it is a skill that I have perfected, and it is really the only part of my personality I pride myself on. 

Dream Threads

The silhouette was staring at me; I tried to speak but I was paralyzed. I lifted my eyes to the figure, my entire body trembling with fear. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and caught sight of the creature. It was tall, towering over my short frame. Its warm, rank breath warmed my frigid face, the stench bringing hot tears to my tired eyes. There were thick clumps of hair all over its burly figure, coarse and unruly. I took in a sharp breath, my mind moving at a million thoughts a second. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that when I opened them it would finally be gone, or at least be less intimidating. My fists clenched as I prepared myself for the reveal. My eyes shot open, strength flooding into my body and creating a pulsing adrenaline. The figure was still there, grumbling, viscous, ready to charge.
I suddenly felt an air of familiarity. Had I seen this being before? It seemed so distorted in front of me, but in my mind, it felt like an old friend. I turned my gaze to the floor, a glint of glass in the shadows caught my eye. Clutched in the creature's hand was a bottle of brown liquid, the open top exposing a putrid smell. I took a step forward and placed a shaking hand on his unshaven face. The scruff of his beard tickled my fingers. I stared into his bloodshot eyes. They were golden brown like mine; the only human thing about him anymore. I quickly tore my hand away, an intake of breath bringing the feeling to my legs. I lost him so long ago, each drink pulling him further from reality, turning him into the creature he had become. This was not the man I had once loved. I burst out of the splintered wooden door behind me, my feet rough against the sidewalk as I made my escape.  

Descending Sun

What a vast, blue day it was. I looked up, the fluffy clouds floating lazily along the skyline. I heard downy birds chirp merrily from their nests, the sun beating down from the afternoon sky. I watched the fish in the pond, their glittery fins creating ripples that corrupted the deep abyss. A sudden voice startled me and drew my attention away from the peaceful scene.

The boy with the green eyes stood across from me, his slender frame creating a sliver of a shadow on the ground. He wore wrinkled swim trunks, his pale toes submerged in the lush grass that stretched as far as the eye could see. A grin was on his usually somber face as he laughed, breaking the walls he had built up for so long. The warm breeze tickled the tree tops, a whisper that blew from the gaps in the leaves. Time passed.

The sunset painted a red glow in the sky as we dined on the finest cherry popsicles. The heat of the day had changed the color of our light skin. The last monarch flew by, as if granting permission for the cicadas to begin their evening symphony. My hair had dried from our swim in the pond, and it now matched the tint of the sunset. I waved to the boy, a melancholy goodbye leaving my popsicle stained lips.





As I walked home, black coaxed the sun out of the sky. The stars began to come out, shining brightly atop the dark background. The air adopted a chill, forcing me to slip on my windbreaker. I could hear the tap of my bare feet against the pavement as I hummed softly, harmonizing with the song of the bugs in the trees. A dog barked from the house next door, welcoming me home from my adventures. Midnight settled upon the earth as I closed my eyes and drifted into a soft slumber, the stars kissing me goodnight. 

Changing Seasons

Winter's Arctic Flow lays a chilled

Velvet Frost across the world

the Luminous Lavender Smoke rises from the houses below the mountain range

the first Hidden Lilac of spring peeks beneath the snow of the majestic

Purple Mountain

in its Always Timeless fashion, the sun sinks into the earth, serenading it with the Deep Rhapsody of Night 

Author's Note: Inspired by a seven color paint swatch.

Amethyst Haze/Canyon Echo

Amethyst Haze

Jewels of the morning 

Amethyst kisses the fog

Rising in the haze

Canyon Echo

Echoes of the past

Fill with the joy in my mind

I wish to go back

Author's Note: These haikus are inspired by two paint chips.

Morning Light

Meeting the sunrise,
Opening the eyes of the day
Rising, the sun kisses the horizon, ending the
Night.
Indigo turns to marigold, later turns to 
Now
Golden flecks of light shine through every window

Leaving yesterday's fears in the past
Igniting the present's
Gifts.
Happy, are those who
Tread in the morning light.

Author's Note: This acrostic is inspired from the name of a yellow tinted paint. 

By The Pond/Deep in the Woods

By the Pond

They lived in the house by the pond. The little family led a simple life, but it was not one void of adventure. 

The toddler dipped her tiny toes in the water, the heat of the summer sun grazing her brown, frizzy curls. She slipped into the water, laughing as she swam from lily pad to lily pad, nothing stopping her from being whoever or whatever she wanted to be. Her giggles filled the open air, beckoning her father from their home. 

The stern man watched from the creaking old porch, the lines on his face turning upward into a smile that revealed itself from behind his beard. He closed his eyes, humming a song that his own father taught him when he was growing up. Like a shot, he rushed toward the water, watching the ripples his daughter's body created. With a toothy grin, he jumped in, becoming the little boy he had almost forgotten. He swam toward his daughter, their smiles almost as bright as the sun that warmed the afternoon. 

Not many visitors came by the house by the pond in the years to come, but on that day, the whole world could hear the hear the laughter of the hardened man and his beautiful daughter.

Deep in the Woods

His glittering brown eyes shot open, the sun illuminating the flecks of gold. A plethora of thoughts rushed into his throbbing head. "Where am I?"

His fingertips touched the tender sore on his right cheek, the taste of blood in his dry mouth. He took a sharp inhale as he grazed his surroundings. Thick three trunks and emerald leaves were planted sturdily in the ground. He shivered, the chilly air grazed over his tattered tuxedo, a limp rose boutineer in his pocket. A memory slammed into his head. 

Music, dancing, the bass beneath his feet, the feeling of a soft hand in his and a full heart. Pain, the taste of salty tears, the gruff jeers of "queer, fairy, gay." The slap of a strong hand. 

A flush of anger flew into him, bringing a red glow to his face. He immediately shot up, ignoring the pain that corrupted his head. Determined, he ran from the woods into the clouded light of the city that rejected him.

"I will win."  

Author's Note: These are both fictional stories inspired by the Disney paint chips.