Andromeda_Song's Xanga

3.4

Fri, 13 Jun 2008 05:31:04 GMT

After school one day, Kimmi said she'd meet me later at the Corner. I saw her drag Tom off as I closed my locker door. I didn't expect to see Chris behind me, though I should've guessed something was up. He offered to give me a ride, and I gladly took up the offer. As I sat in his car, talking and smiling. The warm air and sunshine made everything dream-like, and if my eyelids weren't so heavy I would've realized the street he was driving on. He parked behind a trendy little cafe that was far from the Corner Plaza of mini-shops and eateries.

"Ok, so I know you have an hour and a half before your parents start the tracking device in your microchip, but I wanted to take you here. They have this killer dessert.."

And I just smiled and waltzed in beside Chris. We took a seat next to a window, and briefly blurred through the menu. A hamburger, a turkey club, a soda pop-- I didn't really care; I was too giddy at the novelty of being taken out to eat. I loved the cozy setting, the diner theme this cafe took, and the wait staff was friendly enough. A nice girl with red curly hair took our orders, and Chris and I chatter while we waited for our food.

"So what's this to-die-for-dessert you speak of? I feel the heart attack already coming." I giggled.
"It's the sweetest thing you'll ever meet, for one."
"And two?"
"Two-- well, it tastes best with a something to accompany it. Like a brownie."
"So it's a ice cream?"

The waitress comes back with our sandwiches, and a ice cream sundae. I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the brownie, and I looked up at Chris to see him giving the waitress a wink. I unfolded it, and it read:

You're the sweetest thing I've met,

Andrea Cupcake!
Be my girlfriend?

And I swear I blushed a deeper crimson than Harvard.

Dude, has it been a while since I last wrote or what?
Shall we continue? [rhetorical] D
So I went and edited some entries. Note the tags. lol. I'm gonna continue where I left off; I've gotten past the writers block. The rest of the story will be up tomorrow. For now, I think some sleep is due..

3.5 Dreams in a bottle- Kurelas

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 05:16:37 GMT

I had another dream last night. It was Andromeda. These days, my thoughts seem to be gravitating more and more to this girl whom I haven't seen since graduation. But in this dream, I saw a sleeping Andromeda on the ever-empty blue line train. She was sitting in the opposite corner with her head leaning on the window. Even though I didn't recognize her at first, as I approached her I made out a really chic outfit with a white skirt and red blouse.

"Heya Andrea, it's been a while hasn't it?" I asked her. She didn't move. It's as if she didn't even notice that I was there. "Andrea, can you hear me?" as I tried to rouse her up. I touched her cold and lifeless face and checked for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

"Maverick station, Maverick." the mechanized voice seemed to taunt me with the monotony of every syllable. It had started raining. Doors open, and before I'm able to move, swarms of wet high schoolers flood into the train. Within moments, the train was jam packed and moving off. "Wait, wait, there's an injured person on the train, let us pass!" but it was useless. The boisterous chanter droned out my voice like a gorilla stampede in the congo jungle.

I turn back to Andrea, and I noticed something different about her. Small black spots began to appear over her body. Taking her hand, it was like gangrene infesting, accumulating and decaying. The black spots began to grow larger and larger until I was no longer holding a human hand. “Wood Island Station. Wood Island.” The mass of decayed flesh had begun to crumble into pieces as I tried desperately to cling on. As train doors open, the school kids all dissipate. I'm left alone with the heap of what was once Andromeda. Andromeda. Gone. Forever.

-

One thought. One feeling. One defining emotion. Helplessness. I woke up to a sense of total and complete helplessness. I could do nothing to prevent her death. I wasn't able to get her out of the train. I wasn't able to prevent the decay of her bones. There was not one thing I could do except accept her fate. Helplessness.

Normally dreams like that would have never bothered me to such an extent, but on that night, my life changed. A girl who has trouble accepting herself; someone with no real friends or future prospects, Andromeda may have very well been just an archetype of a simple story. But this was different, because I could feel it. This was a message in a bottle (or in my case, a dream). She was definitely reaching out to me.

-

Andromeda. If you can hear me, know that I'm coming for you. I'm not there yet, and I'm still a little helpless but I can promise you that it won't always be like this. If you need me, I'll be there for you. I won't give up and you won't disappear. I won't let you. I promise.

--------------------------------------------
-I don't like the original dream thing we had in 2.3 or something. It's too blatant and noob. We'll get rid of that part and incorporate anything salvageable in here. it's still a work in progress.
-3.4 has to be where Chris disappoints and hurts Andromeda. It'll probably be a longer chapter, ne?
-You've been writing in your notebook, if it's okay with you, i'd like to read it.
-This chapter is a re-connector of sorts. College has been rendered our two protagonists completely isolated from each other so that new characters could be introduced. I think it's time that we bring it back together.
-It's still a work in progress, but this dream that Kurelas has... it has to be gruesome and scary in a way. He needs to be scared to the point of inspiration. He must really hear something special from Andromeda... even if she's not explicit in her actions later on. There must be a sort of inside joke kind of intimacy that exists even though they're practically strangers after all time they've spent a part.
-The setting is based upon the blue line. You see that, ne? Again, it's all a work in progress but what do you think of the whole idea?

2.30 Aoi no Sora

Fri, 25 Jan 2008 05:32:05 GMT

I ended up giving more than a year of my life to her before we called it quits. Right before her 20th birthday, we started to get into meaningless fights every other day. Usually about how I stopped calling her everyday to ask her how she was, or her excessive need to constantly buy new dresses, or me forgetting to shave before our dates. Stuff like that. After awhile, we just stopped communicating to avoid the conflict altogether. So by the time we were about to end it, the decision was mutual.

_________________________________________________

hmm. recently, i've been having serious writer's block/ lack of inspiration. it's hard to come up with anything these days, ne? how are you feeling about it these days? i can only perceive the lack of writing to come from the fact that i'm also not writing right now, ne?

so, i'm going to forget this entry for now and try and get inspired first. =P

3.3

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 05:12:07 GMT

      I was impressed. I had fun yesterday at the mall; shopping around for new clothes and candy is like therapy, regardless of how unhealthy. We drove back to my house, two minutes before 8 and my father --unsurprisingly-- was already standing on the doorstep. He thoroughly ignored Kimmi's wave, but he couldn't ignore the handshake Chris gave when introducing himself. I couldn't believe he actually wanted to meet my father.

      My parents, however, were not as impressed. Chris, apparently, was unfit for me and gave my mother bad vibes. They don't really even know him yet, I thought. If they did, they'd realize he's a pretty humorous guy. Maybe they'd even admire him for his grand articulation. I laughed. If he had a chance in their perfect palm-pilot calendar.

      Just at that moment, Chris messages me online. I didn't see him on earlier, but I go to his message box. We talk for an hour, starting with nothing in particular and ending with a heated debate over the ethics of Dr. House before I had to log off. I haven't had such a lively conversation in a long time, and I was glad Chris wanted to talk to me.

       School on Monday dragged on by like every other day. After school though, Chris was in his car outside of the front doors. Next to me, Kimmi giggled and chanted "Ooh I think he likes you, ooh I think he likes you," and I lightly punched her in reply. Dragging her alongside me I approached Chris. He said he was waiting for Tom, but he wouldn't mind giving me a ride home.

       I hopped inside, with the four of us in the car again, it felt like something was finally going right. Like the pieces all falling in place.

3.2 (Arrival of the Weekend)

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 23:46:44 GMT

"Remember, you know my mom said I need to be back by 8PM. No later."

"All right, all right Andrea. Sheesh. You gotta chill every now and then. And today is a "now"."

        I look over Kimmi's face. Mischief is written all over it. I would've raised an eyebrow, and warn her again if she hadn't pushed me into the car. She twirls the car keys around her fingers as she walks over to the driver's seat. After she starts the engine, I turn the radio on and lean against the soft leather cushion. She hums along as she drives to Tom's house.
        She parks in front of their driveway and beeps the horn. Then she turns and looks at me straight in the eye.

"Andrea, Tom's bringing along his friend. Chris is a nice guy; he doesn't go to our school but he's known Tom since like, forever. Don't raise your eyebrow at me; it'll be fun!

        Tom opens the door saying, "Aw, no shotgun for me huh. Hey Andrea. Have you met Chris? He goes to a different high school, but he's in the same grade. Not half as smart as you though."

"Hey man, I don't do that bad. Andrea, nice to meet you."

        I turn around to shake his hand, and wave at Tom. Maybe this won't be so bad. Better than moping around the house all day. I turn the volume up and smile all the way to the mall. We get there without trouble, and the moment we walk through the doors Kimmi bursts,

"Andrea!! We have to go into Aeropostale. You'll totally love what they've shipped in this week!!"

She herds us all into the store, and starts grabbing clothes immediately to try on. Giving a wink to the employee, she shoves me into a fitting room with a pile of clothes.

"I want you to try every single one of them on. Even the skirt Andrea. And you must come out so I can see!"

        We were lucky there weren't people waiting for us to get out of stalls. Grudgingly at first, I ended up trying on all the clothes. Each time me and Andrea would come out and compare the new outfits. The boys eventually started to add their comments as well. No icebreakers needed --Kimmi can be such a genius sometimes.

        Next stop was the Godiva boutique, where I couldn't help but go googly-eyed over the new chocolates.

"Find something you like?" a pleasant voice inquired.

"What's there not to like? Godiva is ... heavenly." I replied. Then I blushed, realizing too late it wasn't a salesperson who asked.

"Let me treat you to something." I shook my head, rejecting Chris' offer.

"Okay then, a round of drinks for everyone. Four Chocolixers please," he ordered. For the first time, I observed Chris. He had wavy brown hair styled into a carefree mess, matching his shining, light brown eyes. His shirt hinted a good build, and matched the semi-baggy pants, cut right above his brand new shoes. He looked good, and he was proud of it. Chris turned around and winked at me. Tom walks over and claps him on the back, then grabbed two drinks. Picking up the remaining two, Chris walks over to me.

"All right, milk or white chocolate?" he smiled.

I smiled back, and savored every sip of my White Chocolate Raspberry Chocolixir.

--------------------------------------------------------------

~Andrea's hopeful here. Not so much for a good boyfriend than just a good time.

~Kimmi's also really confident, ne?

~Chris chooses to spend more time on looks than studies.

3.0 (Kimmi Call)

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 23:20:55 GMT

"Hey. Are you okay?"

      After listening to Kimmi string out every detail on her date with Tom, she finally takes note of my unenthusiastic responses.

"I'm just... swamped Kimmi. Mind if I give you a call later?"

"What's wrong? Your parents can't be that upset over your report card. You're still the number one candidate for Valedictorian..."

"Yeah.. maybe it's just my time of the month. I'm sorry, I'll talk to you later okay?"

        I hung up. It wasn't my time of the month. It wasn't my parents. No; they only lightly remarked that I was close to perfect A's; I was much more disappointed than they were. I couldn't figure out why I felt so down. Why am I in such a bad mood?

        I pick up a book, but couldn't process the words. After the third attempt to understand the text, I put on headphones. That's better. I drifted off to sleep.

        Someone wraps their arm around my waist, and I turn, staring at his face. My lips move, and I take a step back. He says something in return, but I don't want to listen.

         I wake up, confused. I try to recall my dream, but I only feel sadness.

"Hello? Sorry to bother you again. I need help with my homework."

"Kimmi--"

"All right, I didn't call to ask for help on homework. K, maybe I will later on, but I'm worried about you Andrea. I know something's bothering you. So. Tell."

"Nothing's wrong. Well, I don't know what's wrong. Just a combination of little things, I guess. Don't worry about it. I'll be better by the weekend. Wanna do something? Hit the mall?"

"All right, missy. But promise you'll be better. You know what, I'll make sure it's better. Gotta start on the dratted history now, I'll see you tomorrow. Ciao~"

I could hear her smirk over the phone.

-------------------------------------------
Hey Josh. I think it'd be easier for us to understand each other if we included our intentions for what we wrote.
It'd also be like a self analysis to check ourselves on what we write (ask 'do we really need this?' 'what will this action do?' 'what imagery will this word give the reader?').
And yeah, I need help in making what I write flow better a lot. So, keep an eye for me, k? Thanks.

~ Kimmi likes talking about herself a lot, but she cares about her friends too. Unfortunately for Andrea, she's also boy crazy. She takes action in what she does. She's active, likes to gossip, kinda like the high school preppy girl.

~ Andrea doesn't really know what's wrong herself. She seems to be a bit depressed (which many people can relate to). But she tries to hide it from her friend. Maybe she really thinks she will get better.

~ This dream is ominous of the date Kimmi is setting her up for on Saturday. Kimmi has good intentions, and she really thinks Chris will make Andrea feel better (remember, she's boy-crazy). Too bad Chris is gonna be a stupid jerk.

Hurt -edited and finished.

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 05:53:28 GMT

--this is after Art class. before the dreams.--

        I stepped into English class and took my seat in the back corner, where the teacher often overlooked students, as usual. I took out a notebook -one I use for every class to scribble a mix of notes and doodles. But something was different. Where is Kimmie? What? She really is talking to Tom. Wow, I didn't think she actually would have the guts to. But it was about time, since she's been gushing all over him for two whole weeks. It was a record, to be sure. That's all that will be coming out of the phone for the next to weeks. I let out a sigh.

        Wait, if she's sitting in Kurelas' usual spot, then-- Oh crap. He's gonna take Kimmie's seat. I hope he doesn't try talking to me. Sure, he's cute, and pretty popular, but look at all these girls starting to smile. Now their mouths are moving faster than chipmunks. Girls fawning over boys gets so exhausting so fast. Ugh.

"Looks like my seat was stolen." Kurelas shrugged, a bit sheepishly.

        I shrug, noncommittally. ******Not part of here, but I can so imagine Andrea starting to chew on her pencil absentmindedly. Not like gnawing and biting the eraser off, but just something to do while she's thinking. WHICH Kurelas finds cute, later on. XP *********** I try to think of something to draw, but nothing's coming to me. I usually find a focus easily, but I spend time thinking about each detail before I sketch it out. Details are important; I need to picture the exact motion, expressions, colors, tones, everything in order to start the draft. It might take me a while to envision it, but when I see the big picture, I swear it's worth the wait.

       But I can't think of anything right now, so I doodle on my notebook. Meaningless circles, but the infinity sign is a soothing symbol to trace, over and over again. Every now and then, I jot down some words, to make it seem like I'm taking notes. For English though, I don't really need to pay attention; I've already finished the book. Good reads shouldn't take forever to read. They should be gobbled up, then saved, to savor for later. That's how you reach from this end to the next, and you move on to another cycle, reading something else, learning something else, doing the same action, but not exactly the same thing...

"What are you drawing?"

       Startled, I lost my train of thought. I look down at my notebook. I don't even know what it is.

"I don't know. Looks like.. trash. I wasn't really trying to draw anything." I start to crumple the paper, but Kurelas takes it from my hands.

"Looks sort of like.. squished pies. or.. melted chocolate. or sh-- hey! Jeez, no need to get angry. It's not like I'm grading you; you won't get punished for messed up work. Though, you should watch out for the chocolate: it'd make you fat."

        I turn around, and shred the paper, crumpled the pieces into a ball and threw it in the trash. How could this kid manage to piss the hell out of me? I wasn't aiming to draw anything; the infinity signs just overlapped. And I'll eat whatever chocolate I want. I'm sorry I didn't thank you for the Godiva, but you're not gonna get it now.
        Kim's still babbling away to Tom, she'll probably ask him to go to the movies if he doesn't. I'm gonna go home, before my parents add anything else to make up for my lack of +'s on my report card. Stupid kid.

"Wow, what's her problem?"

2.29- Aoi

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 05:48:29 GMT

Go BU, Go BU!
Sing her praises loud and true!
We'll fight for our alma mater,
On to sure victory!!
Fight! Fight! Fight!
Go BU, Go BU!
Down the field to score anew!
Our hearts are with you as you meet the foe.
We hail you, Ole BU!

I love Boston University. I got accepted with a 70% scholarship to the School of Management. If anything, it's a large school with plenty to do. It's right next to the MFA, Fenway Park, and it's right in the middle of Boston. But the best assest of BU? The girls. All joking aside, BU and BC have gained a reputation for the sheer volume of beautiful women that attend those two schools. And before the second semester of my sophomore year was over, I thought I snagged the best one out there.

"Eto...sumimasen. Nihongo o hanashimasu ka?" was the first thing she asked me. With her hair in a tight bun, and tiny rimless glasses, I didn't think much of her at the time. She had a cute voice, and she was really into wearing blue. Blue North Face over a blue sweater and a white tank; if it were warmer, she'd probably be wearing a blue skirt too. I almost doubted if 'Aoi' was her birth name.

I remember initially thinking she was a lost tourist looking to catch Daisuke pitch or something, but I foolishly told her that I didn't speak any Japanese. In that moment, not only had I totally forgotten two semesters worth of intensive Japanese, I'd also forgotten that I had taken them. But after correcting myself, I found out that she recently transfered from a local college in Osaka. She was lost, looking for Warren Towers to deposit her scarce baggage. I didn't have classes for another week so I helped her settle in. And naturally, we became friends.

After a while, I realized that Aoi was quite the 'extra' in extraordinary. When she didn't feel like impressing anyone, she could easily fade into the crowd of 30,000 undergrads. But when she was in the mood, she was an absolute bombshell. When we went out on our first date, I was blown away by how different she looked. She let out her long straight hair, put on a little bit of eye-liner to complement her eyes and wore her favorite blue dress. She was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd seen yet in my life..

On the weekends, we'd go shoot pool at Big City sometimes, or otherwise dine in the many restaurants and cafes scattered all around campus when we tired of the BU cafeteria (which students frequently did). Although her family regularly sent her money every week, I usually picked up the tab-- except for the "special" days (like my birthday). I think she ended up spending her disposable income on clothes. Even now, I can't say I've ever seen her wear the same thing twice, except that one snazzy blue dress.

2.21 Hurt (cookie chapter)

Mon, 14 Jan 2008 04:27:29 GMT

When I got home that day, I had a craving for chocolate chip cookies. Maybe it was the horoscope that I read from the school's newspaper, or perhaps it was the brevity of the time we had for lunch, but for whatever reason I really needed to eat chocolate chip cookies, immediately. I walked to the fridge with some anxiety and opened the bottom compartment. Nothing to be had. Before I looked up to open the freezer, I decided to pray with the intensity of a new Born-Again for some cookie dough. Empty. Cold, empty space with not even some ice cubes to keep the ice-box company.

Just then, my father came in with some groceries. It was like an iced bottle of water just dropped in the Sahara desert; rare in actuality, but perfect timing for the obscenly desperate. Like a pregnant woman with absurd cravings at four in the morning.

"Umm, did you buy any cookies, dad?" Please. Please please please say you did. Even though my dad had never once in his life bought cookies. I wanted to hold on this one obscure hope. My mouth was dry, and I was clinging on to his every word.

"Actually Andrea, it's a funny thing. I was at the super and they had this great deal for Nestle's insta-bake cookie dou- Hey! You're supposed to bake that first!"

He ended up getting pretty mad at me. I ate so much frozen cookie dough that afternoon that I got food poisoning and missed out on dinner and the following day's breakfast and lunch. But honestly, right after eating all that cookie dough, I felt so happy. I was at total peace, like a switch flipped on in the back of my brain that allowed me to die and go to heaven, without dying.

My father never bought cookie dough again. Always pre-baked.

For Sophia

Fri, 11 Jan 2008 23:18:49 GMT

Yes, so I read the post and I'll get right to addressing it.

Every comment, criticism, opinion, observation that you have whether it's about the bigger picture or the smaller details or about the writers (you and me), I want it all. Last night was interesting because I remember being really hyper and excited and I think I was driven by that excitement. So, what I mean to say is that even with that attitude of extreme optimism, I want your criticism. I want your down-to-earth perspective. So, please don't feel like you have to hide anything from me, be it a "dampening of hopes" or realistic concerns.

To address what I was typing yesterday, I don't actually think this story will be published any time soon. Not as it is, anyway. And as you know, it's really hard to change and grow and improve writing style overnight. But as for my optimism last night, I think it's based upon the fact that even though we are still so inexperienced and young in this field of work, we are still creating; we are still changing daily and our works reflect that. By now, I'm sure you know that it's infinitely easier to create something than to criticize something. I know you know it because of how considerate you were being by withholding your concerns until you deemed appropriate.

That being said, I still want all your honest feedback and concerns. It is because you are honest that I can trust you in any capacity. So, last night when I asked you and you didn't give me any real comments, I was a little jittery. Because it is your opinion that matters the most to me in terms of this project.

One last thing. Please post everything here. I'm not sure why you posted what you did on Angel_ Of_ Prophecy. =P Anyways, that's all. I hope to talk to you again soon.

-Josh

P.S. Thanks for sticking with me on this. I'm glad we can work on this together because it gives me an excuse to communicate with you on a more regular basis.

P.P.S. I like what you write. I only wish you would write more. It's not so much a criticism that you're not doing enough, but more... I want to read more of what you have to write because it's different, refreshing and creative in a way that is very different from what I write. My hope is that you don't fear writing something that is "bad" and posting it as an idea. Or said another way, perhaps being even more bold in writing down what you are thinking. Because all writing, whether novels, theses, research papers, expositions, or whatever is just a compilation of an individual's thoughts, right? And even just this act of putting down thoughts into ideas becomes at least practice for the future works (and at most, a masterpiece in it's own right).

In short, for this story I like the thought processes as well as the content that are coming out of your head so....write down everything that you're thinking (be it a polished thought or not). =D