It's the last day of 2015, and it's been one hell of a year.
A lot of things have changed.
I graduated high school and started university, which means living away from home and the city I've grown up in. Learning to be independent and proactive has been an interesting process.
I made a lot of new friends, and realized that a lot of old ones weren't really friends at all. It's hard getting around the fact, but I know it's just a part of growing up.
I opened up about a lot of personal things that I've been keeping to myself for a while, and it's still an ongoing process. It's hard, these are things that I only ever really spoke about vaguely before. But I'm trying, and my friends and family have been nothing but supportive.
Creatively, clearly, I've been very slow about. This blog, which I've had since grade 8, has been updated less and less frequently as the years go on. Nowadays, it seems like I'm lucky if I post once or twice a month. I'm not even sure how many of you still go on this blog to read what sporadic things I have to say.
That being said, there's been some new exciting things going on.
As I'm writing this post, I'm finishing up North by North, writing out the finale of this all. It's a little strange to be sitting here, putting in the final words for this journey that's taken me and G over 4 years to finish. But I think it's a good time to do this.
This has also been the year that I've gotten interested in interactive fiction. From there, I've been developing a passion for game design and development of the story kind. I completed one interactive fiction story for my final project in writer's craft in May, which was an interesting run.
However, there's a brand new game that I've been developing for the past month or so, and I'm finally ready to start the coding and writing aspects of it. It's way more complex than my first story, with different endings and exploration and themes. It'll be difficult to fit it into my school schedule, but I'm determined to finish it!
If you want to take a look at my finished game, and keep updated on the new project, take a look at my Gamejolt or itch.io profile. I'd appreciate any and all gameplays and feedback!
Finally, after some deep thinking, I've decided on retiring this blog.
It'll remain up on the web, of course, I'm too attached to this blog. It contains a lot of writing I'm proud of (and not so proud of), and it goes to show the development of me as a writer from age 13-18. In a way, this has been my somewhat public diary, filled with a lot of memories and emotions.
But I think it's time to move away from these and start anew. I'm a much different writer and person now than I was back in grade 8, and I wanted something to reflect that.
I've started a new writing blog, which is currently filled with select pieces from this blog and other writings I have. But soon, I'll slowly develop it with current pieces that are reflective of me as a person and a writer, as well as information on my games.
If you care to follow my new journey, my new blog is here.
To all of you, thank you so much for your support. There are some of you on here who have been following me since the very beginning, which absolutely boggles my mind. It has been the weirdest, most fun 5 years on here that I could ever ask for, and I will always appreciate any time you take to read the rambling of a growing teenager. You've all watched me grow up through my writing and thoughts, and here I am, now an almost-not teenager.
I still have a lot of growth to do, I think this year has taught me that the most. But I'm excited for these new steps forward, and I hope to see you there with me, even if it's to just check in once in awhile.
Happy New Year, for 2016 and onwards.
I wish all of you the best. You deserve nothing less.
Sincerely,
Kienna (aka Kiki)
Mindscape Exploration
Poetic and photographic musings of a teen. (Moved to ghostingwords.tumblr.com)
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Sunday, December 20, 2015
This is Gospel For the Fallen Ones
So this is what you meant
when you said you were a child,
you’re like a party and
she threw me -
you’re like a party and
she threw me -
I didn’t even have to ask
“Are you insane like me?”
Cause she’s the kind of girl
who’ll smash herself down in a night,
stealing kisses from your misses and
who’ll smash herself down in a night,
stealing kisses from your misses and
leaving out the backdoor.
You got a fast car
and she’ll be the one
to come up to meet you,
to come up to meet you,
leaving me to my own devices.
Won’t you just give me a second darling
to clear my head,
the world spins by me too fast
when all of your flaws and all of my flaws
are laid out one by one.
are laid out one by one.
In a few weeks I will finally get time,
but would you know my name then?
but would you know my name then?
This is more of a creative exercise than anything, since I've been trying to work around a creative block I'm still trying to pin down.
It's based off of a prompt, asking to put your music on shuffle, and taking the first lines out of the songs that come out. Obviously, some of the lines have been adapted and shifted, but the general gists of them remain.
The songs featured in this (in order) are: This is Gospel, It's Time, Kids, Party, Gasoline, Patron Saint, Girls Like Girls, Miss Jackson, Fast Car, The Scientist, Pompeii, Unfinished Business, 19-2000, Flaws, What You Know, and Tears in Heaven.
impromptu prompts: star stitched eyes
I’ve never
wanted you
to look at
me like I’m
the sun,
because at
our smallest components
we are
indistinguishable
from stardust.
from stardust.
But names and
the light
stitch your
eyes
blind,
to forget
that we’re more than
just lonely beings
just lonely beings
floating in
the dark.
Those sparks between us
aren’t
starts
of fires,
just the
shared electricity in
our empty
atomic space
that keeps
us from breaking into near nothing.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
impromptu prompts: after the storm
after the storm
I wished myself to
water
to meld
with the puddles in sidewalk
cracks
I guess I was never
meant to turn myself to
stone
as attempts to reach
upwards were struck down by
static
head ringing
with the absence of resonating
thunder
-----------
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hello from university! it's been so long since I've touched this blog...
I've been trying to write more often, I've started NaNoWriMo in order to give myself motivation to create an interactive fiction game adaptation of a short story I wrote.
I've also been doodle/poetry journaling in a little moleskine I got over the summer, and it's been a goal to create at least one page of something every day. granted, I haven't been the greatest at it....
but they do come up with some interesting prompts, and so I'm starting a series on this blog called "impromptu prompts" which will just be expanded versions of thoughts I have in my moleskine.
Monday, July 6, 2015
tourist thoughts - dream/landscape
smog the colour
of tourist romanticism
in yellow and pink and orange
sunsets found
in cigarette smoke hearts where
the stubs and ashes still glow
hot waves against
pavement and pylons
constructed
dream/landscape of 2 tonnes of
white lego block
towers built up by many
hands reaching up with
cameras and iPhones to grasp
tightly onto something fleeting
fast passing moments
carried by taxis
and idealism
Hello! (This blog has been very quiet, along with all of my other creative things, oops.) I'm currently in New York now for a vacation with my mom, and I've had a lot of fun just letting myself be a tourist here. It's also gotten me inspired for the first time in forever. I'm going to be here until Saturday, taking photos, and maybe writing some more poetry.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
imperfections: (im)perfect
The final part of the anthology.
This piece was written as a slam poem, and performed at a school poetry slam.
Paired with this poem.
This piece was written as a slam poem, and performed at a school poetry slam.
Paired with this poem.
-------------------------------
in elementary school,
I learned to
be perfect at grades,
to choke down
instructions in pills
made of chalkboard dust
that dulled crayon colours
on the canvas
into black and white numbers
on the lined page,
to accept that less than 100% was to be
less than perfect
less than whole.
and I was addicted
to the taste of empty praise
so I could forget
the pill got stuck in
my throat every time I got A’s and
smiley faced stickers on my homework page with
“great job as always”
because I was perfect
in middle school,
I learned to
be perfect at socializing,
to spend hours in the bathroom
staring at my reflection fixing
my hair, skin, teeth
until my face became the mirror itself
so I could parrot my classmate’s words and their laughter
and slot myself in their numbers
to never be the
odd one out.
I anchored myself
to a social structure
and sank into the deep
of conformity
weighed down by the burdens of a million smiles
because I was perfect
in high school
I learned to
be perfect at hiding things,
to stifle sobs behind doors
and bury shaking hands underneath long sweater sleeves,
to grit my teeth and lie
“I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine”
but my heart was the eye of a hurricane
made of procrastinated essays
and report card grades
pushing me off a pedestal I had made
for myself
and I was trying to convince everyone
that I was just flying not
falling
crashing into a million pieces of ceramic
BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING PERFECT
a few days ago
sitting in earth and space class
I learned
that when a nebula lets go
of its restraint,
all stardust and void colliding
inwards in the flux of its own gravity
it does not die -
it changes into stars,
into galaxies.
so I took a breath
and let perfection go
because I am imperfect.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
imperfections: bow
Part 2 of "imperfections"
Paired with this poem.
---------------------------
my heartstrings are strung
too tight
and every chord
plucked threatens
to break
to snap
my first lover played
me like his piano
ribcage bruised against
the pedal
so when he left
the steel strings
were frayed
and I never thought
I could be played again
but you learned
instead to pull
across gently
with your bow.
and you don’t expect
the notes that
come out
to be beautiful
and you don’t flinch when
it screeches instead
you just keep
on playing and
that’s enough.
I have never been
my favourite song
but you have always
listened.
Friday, May 29, 2015
imperfections: variations on the colour blue
I had forgotten I had written this.
This is part of an anthology of poetry called "imperfections" I had to compile for writer's craft, in which I had to juxtapose my poetry with a published poet's work.
This is one of the 3 pieces I wrote, meant to be paired with this poem by Andrea Gibson (a slam poet who I greatly admire).
This is part of an anthology of poetry called "imperfections" I had to compile for writer's craft, in which I had to juxtapose my poetry with a published poet's work.
This is one of the 3 pieces I wrote, meant to be paired with this poem by Andrea Gibson (a slam poet who I greatly admire).
--------------------------------
blue is the colour of
3 in the morning
alone
where sleep doesn’t reach
because blue is the colour of
the hospital gowns and bedsheets
that my veins
accentuate,
lying beneath
memories marked with
the scars of IVs
dripping chemotherapy
and the remainders
of surgical thread
running along my shoulder blade
because blue is the colour of
the forget-me-nots
in my hair
whispering in my ear
to always be thankful
for being a survivor
because
you’re not expected to win
against the disease
if the disease is made of
your own cells
because blue is the colour
of the ink that
slips out of the
hollow in my throat
onto the page in
scrawls that
bruise my fingers
and dyes my bones
in words that I don’t
know how to say other than
Mom Dad
I’ve never been afraid of dying
I’m afraid of living with it again
because blue is the colour of
the lake, the ocean,
the waves that pull
at my feet
trying to lull me to
the peaceful deep,
but I am afraid of drowning
myself along with the thoughts
the demons
and so I stay awake with the sting
of salt on my scabs and
scars
and the taste of
loneliness thick on my tongue
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