My bio page

So, this was actually an assignment for English. But I like it. So, of course, it's going on this blog.
I was supposed to put my heart in it. This little poetic thing basically sums me up. Enjoy!

My name is Marissa

My name is Marissa.

I had a fairly normal childhood.

At least, as normal of a childhood as one can have with an older brother.

Of course, I suppose older brothers are normal, right?

They’re mostly all annoying at some point or another.

We did a lot of things though, my siblings and I.

Of course, I was just little. When I got big enough to really remember, they were all grown up. I still remember a little bit though.

We played cats, and orphans, and mountain goats, and wizards. 

One thing you should know about me: I have an imagination. I could spend hours as a little girl playing in my room with just myself.

Of course, I had friends too. But they didn’t always play the way I liked.

Maybe some people would say that I have too much of an imagination now. I get distracted easily. I still play by myself.

Maybe this is why I like to write. And I do. Write that is.

Fantasy mostly. Sometimes science fiction. But mostly fantasy.

When I write fantasy, I get to make up my own world. There are no rules, no laws, nothing to get in my way. My imagination’s my limit.

I like music too. But not the music that most people like. Sometimes I feel like words can get in the way. (Not while I’m writing of course. Just when I’m listening to music.)

I do listen to “popular” music. Sometimes.  Taylor Swift, One Direction. But I prefer to go my own direction.

Nobody wants to listen to my iPod on shuffle. You’ll find John Powell, Howard Shore, Klaus Bedelt, Alan Silvestri… “Nerd” music. Well, I suppose I am a nerd. And proud of it!

I guess you could say I sing to my own tune.  I try not to care what other people think. But words can hurt me too. Sometimes I think people forget that. My friends say things, and they hurt, and I wish they could see that.

My parents are good. They teach me things. Right from wrong, and how to do stuff.

I earn my own money. Sometimes it’s hard. But I like it.

I work with the old people.

Sometimes I look at them, and wonder what they were like when they were younger.

Some people look at them and see them as people near the end of their lives.

Useless now that they’re worn out.

I look at them and see a person sculpted by a lifetime.

They’re so much wiser than me. And when they tell me stuff, I listen.

Sometimes I feel like I have 35 grandmas and grandpas.

But right now I only have two grandparents. My dad’s parents.

But we don’t see them a lot.

My mom’s parents got divorced. Twice. And Max just kind of left.

That’s my grandpa, Max.

He’s a grandpa to me by blood, but not by heart.

He doesn’t want to get to know me, so I suppose I’ll never know him.

He says he’s never coming back to Utah.

That makes me sad. I want a Grandpa.

I met him for the first time at my Grandma’s funeral.

She was the only Grandma that lived near me.

She moved here a few years ago.

And then she got sick. So I guess I was happy when she passed. She had fought for a long time, and then she got to stop.

It’s only been 5 months, but I already forgot what she smells like.

I feel like life is too short to be sad.

I mean, if we get to choose how we feel, why don’t we choose to be happy more often than not?

There are lots of things that make me happy.

Music, chocolate, cats, yellow, teddy bears, snow, fall leaves, caramel milk, flowers, bird chirps, words, school, pens, sunshine, trees, blankets, fuzzy socks, pinecones, yogurt for breakfast, weekends…

And the list could go on.

So why, with so many good things around us do we ignore the happy things, and focus only on the negative?

Seems silly to me.

But I guess, easier said than done.

Because it takes work to be happy. I guess everything good takes work.

If we were all happier, would there be fewer wars? Less hunger? Less poverty?
I think so.

But what do I know?
Maybe more than some people think.

LOTS of excerpts. YAY!

So, this is a lie. This are random tidbits from a book I am currently working on. Yes, I abandoned Reverie. No, I put it aside until I'm ready for it. Anyway, this does give away the ending of the book, so SPOILER ALERT!! I just had some ideas floating around, and figured it was a good idea to get them on paper. So...here ya go!

Excerpt 1:

Lark stopped and turned around. “Captain?” she said hesitantly. Mark turned to face her.

                “Yes Lark?”

                “I love you.” Then she dropped her torch. Mark opened his mouth to answer her, but the fire had already built a wall around her. He dropped his torch too. Then he closed his eyes and whispered.

                “I love you too.”

Excerpt 2:

“Sir? May I come in?” the commander nodded.

                “I fear you come bearing bad news.” He said, sighing heavily.

                “Yes sir, I have.” Captain Arna ducked inside the tent. “I am afraid that the members of the SITU have been declared killed in action. This includes Captain Mark Seber, Agent Lauren Mallows, Agent Tobin Mace, Agent Henri…” The commander droned him out,  and closed his eyes.

                “Thanks you Captain Arna, that will be all.” He said. The captain nodded and stepped back out.  The commander couldn’t believe it. The members of the SITU. [insert names of country]’s golden soldiers. The heroes of the year. All dead. Gone. He sighed again and pulled out some paper to write his condolence letters.

Excerpt3
 

Mark sat down wearily on the bench and put his head in his hands. The grief pushed down on him like a ton of bricks. Up until this point he hadn’t been able to cry. But now it all rushed at him at once. A man does not like to be seen crying. Especially not the country’s newest hero. But he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He didn’t even care if anyone saw him.

He got off the bench a knelt in front of the memorial. It was a marble tombstone, surrounded by flowers, with benches on every side. People had come and put little trinkets at the base. Flowers, blankets, notes. Mark ran his fingers lightly across the letters spelling out the names. They lingered on Lark’s name. He traced each letter carefully with his finger. L. A. U. R. Then he dropped his hand again and looked away.

Why did he have to survive? Why couldn’t he have died under that rubble? He heard footstep behind him. He took a few deep  breaths and struggled to stop the tears forcing their way out of his eyes. But he didn’t turn around. He stayed there, kneeling in the dirt.

“Captain?” His heart stopped. He was afraid to look. “Is that you?” There must be something wrong with his hearing. That was all. Besides, lots of people called him Captain. “Cap?” He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. He slowly turned his head, his brain swimming. He couldn’t quite comprehend what he saw. Lark’s worried face broke out into a look of relief. “Oh Captain!” She hobbled quickly  towards him and knelt down next to him, embracing him and soaking his shirt in her tears. He hugged her back  and breathed in the scent of her hair.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming.” He whispered, holding her tighter.  She was sobbing too hard to answer. He finally let go of her and took hold of her hands. “What, how?” He stuttered. Lark sighed.

“I don’t know.” She answered truthfully. “All I know was that I was stuck under that rubble for what seemed like days. The stone protected my from the majority of the fire. When I heard people up above, I tried to call for help, but no one heard me.  A few days later a forest dweller found me. How,I don’t know. But he did. I was feverish, and starving, and dehydrated, and well, injured.” She looked down at her leg. For the first time Mark noticed it. Or rather, the lack of it. A wooden prosthetic was in its place.  Lark continued. “He took me to his healer who nursed me back to health. I assumed that everyone else had died. But I came into town with the family I was staying with to help them sell some things. I heard rumors that you were still alive, and I had to find out for myself. I heard about the memorial, and decided that it might be the best place to look. I suppose I was right.” She smiled up at him. He laughed and hugged her tight.