Childhood

In my oppinion, we completely over protect our children.
Growing up as a child, my mom kept an eye on me, but let me figure stuff out for myself, and I really think that is the way to do it.
Sure I broke a few bones in the process but I learned about gravity, and the stability of thin tree branches rather quickly.

It irritates me, when I hear a mom say "Don't do that" or "Be careful" when a child is simply playing... Yeah be cautious but not to the point of it being rediculously over the top. Especially when dealing with a boy... Boy's are supposed to get dirty, and hurt themselves- fall from fences, or play cruel pranks. For example, when my sister had her first boy, when we'd play- she'd always tell me to be careful with him. He's not a priceless glass vase. Like, boys are supposed to wrestle and fight and grow up sort of dirty. At least in my oppinion. Although as a counter arguement, her second boy- we were wrestling and I accidently threw him into a heater- and burnt his side pretty bad. But it was all in good fun. She was not too happy with me, but my brother and I laughed about it- even right when he hit the heater; cause we both knew what it felt like.
My brother stuck his fingers in a vacuum cleaner and had to get stitches on his fingers, while I pulled an iron onto my back and burnt myself real bad. It's just something guys have to do. At least that's what I believe... But I did grow up on a farm- which sort of bred me to be tougher... I think.

When I have kids... I'll make sure they have their fun, but I won't baby them. Boy or girl they are playing sports, and taking some form of karate. I really don't want my kids being defenceless. But I know if I have a girl, I'll be a hell of a lot more protective and will probably keep a closer eye on her than say if I had a boy.
I have this plan... If I have a girl- the first time she goes on a date, when the guy comes to pick her up- I will ask him if he has a condom.
and if he says yes, I'll ask "Why? Do you plan on sleeping with my daughter?" and if he says no. I will reply with "What? You're planning on getting her pregnant? Can you really support her at your age!?" and really make sure he knows what he is in for... Maybe my childhood did mess me up... But either way- I think I'll be a good dad... Just not yet.

Free Write

The other day... perhaps a few weeks ago? I'm not too sure how long it has been- but all I know is, it is still on my mind. A girl. A certain girl. Got me so negatively flustered that I actually punched a door... It isn't like the door did anything to me but I still had to release the energy I felt...

It got me wondering, why is it that one person can have such an extreme effect on me... Or anyone for that matter. Why is it we openly dive into something knowing there is such a chance for an unpleasant outcome? Why is it, that we will consciously think about something or explore it, knowing it will upset us? I wonder if, three thousand years ago- women still had this ability to make a man do insane things... Or a man could have this effect on a woman? That's just the wonderous thing about humankind; curiosity, and how we let it get the best of us. I assume that even three thousand years ago, a human could no doubt abuse someones emotional/mental state so bad, that they would act out of character... Hmm, humankind.



Emotions are everything apparently... Everything we do, is based on emotions. Nomatter how much we think about something; we usually act based on our emotional wants and needs. The media makes money and produces products hoping to influence our states of mind. For example... a love story, a romantic movie. Many people will go see one to laugh and enjoy the love and heartbreak that the couple in the film experienced, but leave at the end, envious that the couple worked out for the best- knowing that's how every romantic movie works. They leave envious and wishing they could find that one true love... Is there just one true love? Or perhaps many... Most of my writing is a reflection of my experiences or my oppinions on love or permiscuity, because it is something that facsinates me. I find a story simply isn't interesting unless it can pull at heartstrings a bit, negatively or positively...

Personally, I love to pull at strings in a negative way... I really like to make people feel regret or disgust. For example in one of the many novels I am working on; a man hits an old woman while he's driving and if he backs his truck up, he'll rip her in half... so he has to kill her by shooting her. I let one of my friends read it, and with the detail I put in it, my friend said it made her feel sick to her stomache, and I got a sense of pride... In a very twisted way.



I was in my room, reading 'The Darkest Knight' It's a comic book about Green Lantern and The Flash, and I got to thinking about that certain girl and I had to stop reading due to lack of concentration... So I wrote her a letter, because writing is perhaps my strongest aspect, one that she rather enjoys... But in the letter I had some vulgarity, but later apoligized for it in the same letter stating "That I was angry, but it was only temperary and you should not be offended... and if you are, I apoligize..." and I wondered how even though she emotionally hurt me, how I still cared about how anything I said, would make her feel... Hmm, will humankind ever not care about what they did... and if so... Would they still be human?

Sigh, she looked at my hand the other day and frowned at me... Stating I shouldn't have done that [Punch a door] and she said I was stupid for doing so. and I took her patronizing concern and noted it... For what reason did I note it? It seems that this isn't so much a journal entry, but a slew of questions... Questions that my mind keeps dispencing, and questions that my hands can seldom keep up with... When it comes to the oppisite sex, if I truely care about them... My hand can seldom make my irratic lust-broughten thoughts and make them into a linear sentence that can physically be written down on paper... Sigh..
I feel my rant is done...

The Irony of Education

I can't exactly point out one reason as to why we take education for granted; but perhaps it could be because not that we are spoiled as a society because even those who do not own much [physically]tend to miss class and school... But perhaps it's because we are arrogant as a society and feel that education or learning can wait for us. Or maybe we feel that learning is always taking place- so why go to school?
Perhaps it's because we think *what* we learn in school, is not going to pertain to anything we will do outside of it. Like knowing how to find the area of a bus or how to find the parabole in the route of a taxi might not help some people outside of school- so they choose not to learn it.

I think north america has a more "laid back" view of education and what is going on, while other societies tend to be more direct and serious about learning- I can't pin point one overall reason as to why we take advantage of education but we most certainly do. Petrhaps that is why our economy is so bad? Probably not, just simply venting...

"The Pen is Mightier than the Sword" Journal 2

The Pen is Mightier than the Sword
　
　
In this journal, the questions were asked "What issues or topics are you interested in exploring in your writing? What changes do you feel are worth making?"
And to respond, in full honesty; I'm not quite sure.
　
I haven't exactly picked my brain about the sort of topics that I think need adressing, or certain changes that need to be made. I simply write, and use my gift of writing to express emotions and communicate what I am feeling or thinking. Many of the characters I create do face problems- real world problems, such as alchoholism or perhaps permiscutity [that being a problem, is completely debatable] but it is only because I am familiar with these situations. Perhaps my characters problems, could make someone sit back and think about a drinking problem, or if they should really be hanging out with a certain girl- but it is not a consious objective of mine, to make someone think. So if they do think- after reading something I have written, and it helps them change, even on a emotionally molecular level, than they are by far welcome, even though it is indirect, I will take full credit in helping them.
　
I know I could sit here and write for hours about how topics need to be addressed, such as racism, or world rights, or the womans movement or even drinking and driving- About how all those above topics affect everyone around me, and I could write about how much I care- and how much I think that all those topics should be addressed through writing- or just simply addressed. But I hate to lie.I don't care all that much about many topics, and I'm not trying to be selfish or rude, or unjustifiably mean; but I am trying to be honest.At this point in my life, the most important things in my life have nothing to do with other's who have no influenced me directly. And I really choose to not write about real world issues that need to be touched upon, like the declaration of human rights does. I just write for me and perhaps for keeping my sanity, and emotional state at a bareable level- maybe that last reason, is me writing to help other people, but besides that; the pen is mighty- but through the eyes of this individual, living his last year in highschool- so is the sword.
　
　
Eric Varga

What Do I Really Know? Journal 1

Journal # 1“Write what you know”The first rule of writing is to “Write What You Know.” What do you know? What are the experiences, settings, topics, issues, genres, themes and characters that you feel you can comfortably write about?What are the experiences, settings, topics, issues, genres, themes and characters that you are interested in enough to research in order to write about them more effectively?What are your limitations? In other words, what topics do you feel unknowledgeable about and think you should avoid?



Write what I know... Simple enough task. But in all honesty, what do I know?

It is not so much, that I write what I know, but I write what I think I know- Or maybe just what I feel. If I have an idea, I write about it, whether it just be a character sketch, an idea for a setting, even a bit of dialogue that I think would go great in a story. Sometimes I find myself writing an entire prologue to a story, that I haven't even fully thought of or explored mentally.
I enjoy writing about a character that I can relate with, or a character that I know I'd hate out of prose.
But being an aspiring screen writer, dialogue is what I enjoy writing the most and have no problem researching everything from format, to how many pages, to the static and dynamic characters I should, and want to place in the play. Not so much research as check the internet, but just dwell in the deepest parts of my mind, and find what really makes my characters tick. Asking myself 'Why are they like that', not just simply saying 'They are like that.'

I'm not quite sure, where my limits are as a writer, because I have never tried to push past them- but I think as I get deeper into the course, I will find myself in dispositions where I *Must* push past my limits, are at least venture further than I'd normally like too... I am a writer, that takes serious situations and puts a comic spin on them- even to the point of it just being twisted; But I am comfortable with that.

I think, what I am least comfortable with- or maybe I am just a foriegner to it; would be holding onto one idea and sticking with it. I often stop what I'm writing to write something different instead of perhaps making that new idea, a part of the *current* project. It's sort of like- to use an analogy- that I look at a branch, and instead of looking at the rest of the tree, that I assume that, that one branch *is* the tree. And I move on bored, instead of taking the time to explore the entire picture, instead of that one puzzle piece.

One topic, I know I am not going to do well with would be non-fiction. I have tried and it just seems to bland. Perhaps because I know it has already been writen (history) and I am afraid to put my own spin on it- feeling I could perhaps weaken the actual topic. Maybe?
I'm not too sure, what I mean but I know I am extremely uncomfortable with writing anything Non-fiction. So I would be more than happy to avoid it.

Character sketch

Sara opened the door of the rusted-out pickup and began to search frantically. She was searching for that note, that note that Wally gave her that one night. That one night Wally's pickup broke down on the side of a back highway for four hours; the first time Wally kissed her, after about thirteen minutes of barely any conversation. Putting her hand under the seat, she felt around for anything that felt like it. There it is. She pulled the paper out and looked, it wasn't the note he gave her, not at all. She thrust the condom wrapper back under the seat and climbed into the driver's seat, scanning the truck. The inside was in just as bad of shape as the outside. Where the outside was rusted, the inside was adorned in stains; some Sara didn't even want to think about how they got there. Or what they were from. The truck reaked of alchohol and shame, but she ignored it- she needed to find that note.
"Where the hell is it?" Asked Sara aloud, glancing down at a bag almost under the passenger seat. His gym bag. Sticking out from the top she could see his workout atire; a sweaty t-shirt with the sleeves torn off instead of cut, and some plain black shorts. It wouldn't be in there. Moving over to the passanger seat, Sara almost tipped over a coffecup in her hurry, barely noticing. Reaching under the seat, she pulled out a slew of wrappers and bottles, beer cans and an old baseball cap, printed on the back were the words, Pheonix Coyotes. His favorite hockey team. She leaned over further, reaching deeper and felt a box- pulling it out she revealed the source of the first condom wrapper, along with some of it's long lost brothers and sisters. Men. The glove compartment. She opened it up and saw nothing she needed, just a script he had written. Pulling it out and glanced at the cover, it was dated, May 21st, 2009. His birthday. Why would he be writting on his birthday? He never takes the time to enjoy his day. She opened to the middle of the script and started to read.

Amy: "You know we can't tell anyone about this, I could lose my job... Although we could consider it one of our teacher to student privlages..." Touching the pencil behind her ear, trying not to star at Jerry's transbulging-"

Sara stopped reading, a look of disgust flashed across her face and perhaps a bit of excitment. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the sight of something else in the glove compartment. A flask. It was encased in leather, embroided on the side with the words 'For the good times, and bad. Old friend.' I wish he'd stop drinking so much- especially in the truck. She scanned the dashboard, only two things on it. A speeding ticket and his hat. She hated that hat, but he loved it. The only reason he bought it was that he said it made him look like an old school detective from the 40's. She had to admit, when he wasn't shaved- which was often and when he put that hat on and lit his ciggarette, he did look like he was from the 40's. A real badass.
She picked up the coffeecup and smelt it; coffee, black and it was definately spiked. The cup was over half full. Maybe he passed out halfway through it. She almost didn't notice a small piece of white parchment fall out from under the cup. The note! Sara opened the tiny piece of paper and read it aloud.
"Dear Sara, if you are reading this, it means that I have finally gotten the balls to run away for a while. I'll be back before you know it. I'm sorry, I love you always." By the end of the note, tears were filling her eyes. "You finally did eh? You finally ran away you coward..." She was crying harder now- her eyes were red and her head hurt. She had an itch between her shoulderblades that she knew she could never scratch.
"What the hell are you crying for now? You're always so bloody sensitive." A familiar voice spoke up behind her. It was casual and had a sarcastic tone. It always had a sarcastic tone.
Sara spun round, whiping her eyes. There he was, tall and mostly shoulders with a three day beard. "Wally!"