Memorable Passage

“At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. "Your favorite colour . . . it's green?"

"That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange."

"Orange?" He seems unconvinced.

"Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once."

"Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you."

But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces."

Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.”

― Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

This really hit home with me, I did something like this when my uncle was on his death bed. He couldn’t remember me or anything about himself. So I spent my last 10 minutes with him telling him everything I could remember about him. I told him all of my favorite memories with him and everything he accomplished with his life.

Quote Post

-Anonymous 

"Writers as Readers"

When I read I can pretty much do it anywhere. The most preferable way to do it for me, is alone in a high place like a tree or on my house. No matter what i need music in my ears to help completely  block out the world. I absolutely can not read in silence. I enjoy eating while I read but I never fully get into it because I’m so worried I’m going to get food on it.

One of my best memories connected to reading is making one of my best friends with a book. I don’t remember which book it is now but we both wanted the same book and we would always get to the library at the same time and head to where the book should be and find out that it had just been checked out. So we conspired together to get the book before anyone else could, and that’s how we became best friends.

A book that I couldn’t stop reading was the 5th wave, I couldn’t stop because it was an exciting read the whole time you never knew what was going to happen next. Even when I had to put the book down I never stopped thinking about it, I would try and guess the possibilities of what was going to happen. Then I wouldn’t be able to focus because I needed to know what happened. The Daughters of the Moon series is a very hard couple books to get through because they’re essentially the same thing over and over.

I can’t remember which book I read first because I’ve always read more than one book at a time, so it’s between When You Take a Mouse To School, I’ve Got a Wocket in my Pocket, or Green Eggs and Ham. These books stand out to me because they’re the first books I read all by myself.

I think someone that reads a lot can be a very strong writer but then again I read all the time and I’m a terrible writer. I’m much better at editing someone else's writing, in fact I enjoy editing. I think this is because it’s essentially reading just with a separate goal in mind. I think if you pay enough attention to sentence structure and themes you might be able to directly or indirectly put it into your work but i feel that you really have to be paying attention to it.

If I ever wrote a book someday it would be a very short fictional story, it might take some of my past experiences and put a dark twist on them. On the “About the Author” I would want it to make me seem as mysterious as my book. So it would just have very basic facts that you could learn just by googling me. For example, Katelynn is from a tiny town near Arkansas, she isn’t married but does have a lot of animals. It would be very simple and I probably wouldn’t have a picture of myself either.

Being caged 

You can be caged by many things, mentally and physically. Mentally you can let bad experiences or other upsetting conflicts trap you. They never let you move on. For example, I was just confronted or rather accused last night of things I didn't do. It's my mental cage because it's very hard for me to just forget it and move on. When you're caged you do whatever is necessary to escape, I'm the same way. I do whatever I can to get rid of this problem. I calmly talked to the accuser and worked everything out. I have now escaped my mental cage. I only wish all my mental cages were so easy to escape. 

Writers Dreaming

3.)    Talking about bad dreams or bad news or other bad things does give them too much power. Just thinking about them gives them power, they can haunt you or hang over you all day everyday if you allow them to. That is the only way the have power over anyone. When you have a nightmare it generally will fade away and be forgotten if you just stop thinking about it, but if you decide to tell someone about it, it usually sticks with you for a while after that.

5.)     I personally feel I could live without talking for several years, I don’t talk much now as it is. I’m not shy or anything I just don’t talk too much unless I’m required to. If I talked less and listened more not much would change. I might notice more changes in other people, I might notice of someone else is more quiet than me.

6.)    I’m comfortable using both English and Spanish. I would love to be fluent in Chinese or Japanese. I have family that lives both in China and Japan and I know it’s cheesy but I think it sounds cool. I do not agree that speaking English is enough because we live in America, why should everyone else have to learn our language because we’re too lazy or lack the effort to try and learn ours.

7.)    I’m the kind of person that can remember the exact conversation i had with you 2 years ago, but not remember what I ate this morning. I can also recognize your face but if I have to put a name to your face I’m going to fail miserably. I think it is a good thing for me not to remember much of anything, because there's a lot that I’d rather not remember. The fuzziest times of my life are when I’m young and there a couple of months from about 2 years ago that I can’t entirely remember, all I recall when I try to remember was that it was not a good time in my life. The clearest times are all my good memories, I put a lot of focus into remembering my good days and try to forget my bad days.

9.)    When I need to occupy my small mind I climb a tree or I climb the house. I focus a lot better when I’m higher up, or looking down on the view below. My biggest distractions are my phone or my book.

11.)    I think the older the get it does get harder to learn new things but not because of the age, I think it’s harder because you don’t have as much time to focus on what you want to learn. You might be more focused and not distracted but it’s still hard if you don’t have the time. It is true that younger people or even kids learn a little bit faster. I tutor and autistic 5 year old and he has learned more spanish in the 2 months that I’ve been teaching him than I did when I took a class for a year.



Dream Threads 

The faint sound of people busting inside the strange house, reached her from down in the basement. She silently crept up the stairs and watched the FBI swarming into the house taking everyone older than 18. She softly stepped back and cringed when the step creaked underneath her. She froze when the agent took a step towards her. She held her breath and quickly worked her way back down the stairs with no other unwanted noises. She tried to calm kids as a sound like thunder made its ways to their ears. “Ssh they’re leaving now it’ll be okay.” Giant eyes met hers as they heard the step creak. She closed her eyes and stepped to the door, she spun quickly and ushered them back into the secret room she closed the door tightly and quietly picked up the book shelf and placed it in front of the door. She then returned to her post by the door. It opened so slowly she shifted impatiently, they finally took a slow step through the door and then one more. One more step and the agent would be in the perfect position there, as she jumped she realized there was another agent coming down the stairs too late. She knocked the first agent out as the second tried to grab her, she spun around prepared to fight him too but he brought his rifle up and smacked her with it. The taste of iron assaulted her tongue before she blacked out.

Gray Gray and more Gray

He stared down at the worn pillow, it was so clear where he rested his head no matter how much he fluffed the pillow as soon as he laid it back down on the bed the indent reappeared. Flopping down onto the pillow he shifted till he was comfortable. He stared at wall for a while then shifted his gaze to the cell door. His lawyer promised him it wouldn’t be too much longer before he was free, it had only been a year, he knew he was lucky. Some men in here stayed wrongfully imprisoned for decades. He gave a long sigh, he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. It was so hard to sleep in such a dreary place, the brightest thing was his prisoner's garb, gray and white. Everything else was a darker grey or black. He listened to the quiet grumbling of the prisoner in the cell next to him, he liked him. He was here because he punched a guy too hard and accidentally killed him. If you ask me the guy he killed deserved it, he abused his girlfriends and raped them. He was doing everything he could to get him out. He already promised as soon as he was out that getting him out would take his first priority. He glanced up to the tiny square otherwise known as a “window” the sun was already rising he groaned and stood up ready to get this day over, one day down not too many more to go. He would get through this.