There was little to no reason to believe that he couldn’t win her over once more, but he wouldn’t allow himself that bit of happiness.
So he kept in contact, but kept his attraction in the back of his mind. And the years and months in between the first relationship and the inevitable second attempt were spent talking.
Building upon the seed of love that he had no knowledge of just yet.
The Boy began to wonder why girls just wouldn’t take to him.
Why his hopeless romantic ideals just wouldn’t apply to his life.
But along with the wondering, The Boy noticed something.
His mind was playing with him. Or so he thought.
The Boy kept returning to The Girl, to help with her problems or to simply talk.
No matter what happened, his attraction to The Girl kept returning.
At first he wrote it off as a simple bit of hormones.
But it became to frequent to be just hormones.
And slowly.
He realized.
This was much more than hormones. The Boy was a young man who had commonly wrote off those who believed in love.
And here he was, believing that he could have been in love.
And so, the chase began.
The Boy began trying all he could to win The Girl over.
Stories.
Hidden questions.
Constant communication.
And the few times he tried to ask her the wonderful question, she shot him down.
But simply because The Girl found that The Boy could find someone better.
And that frustrated The Boy.
There was no way that there could be anyone else.
The Boy and his friends had begun to realize this.
Nathan Hermanson
Mr. Hatz
AP English Language and Composition, Period 4
August 28th, 2009
The Realization
“The pen is mightier than the sword.” Edward Bulwer Lytton said some time ago, at a time where literature and intelligence were highly sought and cherished. A time when truly great writers were as common as teen stars are in today’s world and they made it known through their constant publications (just as the teen ’stars’ do as well). Good literature, whether it is a fictional piece or a well-written essay, can engross even the least interested with great writing. And I believe that writing has become my passion. What I am good at. It took me 15 years to realize this, but as this essay flows out of the gray matter between my ears, through my fingertips onto the ever-elusive computer screen in front of me, I realize that this is where my life is going to take me.
It was probably a cold day. I was, as per usual with my life, tired, starving and whiny. The computer screen most likely was my only source of light at the time. There is no doubt that I inevitably had no ideas running through my head. A slight burn presumably plagued my eyes. There was most likely the usual round of distractions going on in my little corner. Music, whether melodic or cacophonous, would be ringing out of my speakers. Something would be on the large television behind me, some type of local sport or mindless programming. And that is when it would begin. I would proceed to type away, somehow producing passable work as my fingers do their magic. The ideas would come without warning, introducing themselves with an odd familiarity and they would instantly be put to their purpose within my work. This is what would normally happen on any weekday. But this occasion would be different. This time, I would realize something. This was my calling.
Without any sense of true accomplishment, I would begin to pick apart my work, noting many of the errors and begin to pull myself down. People would be happy with my work, but the important thing is that I wasn’t. In my mind, the story, essay or mindless blathering, in front of me was nothing but trash. Something that should never be read, let alone written. Something that one would be embarrassed to have written. But on this occasion… I am happy with my work. And my mind echoes the praise of three consecutive English teachers. “You will one day be the writer you strive to be.” The praises of both friends and family, and the two true critics I hold near and dear, they all come to me in a wave of enlightenment. And that’s when I realized. I had found my calling.
Like the pitcher who has discovered his strikeout pitch, the artist who has discovered his style, the singer who has found his genre, I am elated. The rare smile comes across my face as I read what I have produced and the praises of others. When before I was lost, a child without their parents in a market; I am now a confident man, with a purpose. All my years of considering different careers, and in one quick bit of writing, I discover my life, and I’m happy. Since that moment, the skill that others may abhor and others believe themselves to fully understand, has become mine. It has become my life and will forever remain my life. This type of moment, an epiphany, is something that most go through. The realization that you are good at something is one of the notches in this thing we call life. But it always comes back to one thing. Our lives can be defined by what we decide to do and what we want to do. Writing is my medium, my hopeful career, and my claim to fame. And with time, others can discover their passion, where they stand in their lives as well.
“The keyboard is mightier than the pen, which is mightier than the pencil, which is inevitably mightier than the sword.” said young writer Nathan Hermanson. In a time when literature can be scoffed at and mindless tales of terribly misconstrued fairytales take the forefront above great tales. In a time when truly great writers are as rare as good music, a writer or any other artist may discover that their talent is something to hold onto. Through this discovery, people begin to realize that this is the type of moment that all others must go through, the realization of talent. To discover what is next in their lives, where they are going. Because when that is found out, life just comes along a lot easier.
So there we have it. After tinkering with the page template a little and messing around with some interesting stories, I have created a sample page of the Chula Vista High School newspaper, The Spectrum. Hope you enjoy it.
Anyways. Lately, I’ve been trying to sleep more. In doing so, I have made myself sleepier. And I may or may not have missed some homework. But luckily, I am quick and I did it before assigned classes and made sure it was productive work and not just mindless blathering.
But what I want to know is. What do you guys want to see? I am looking to write something new for the time being. Don’t worry, I have been doing bits of work on the collection here and there. But what do you want to see from me? I will start a little poll somewhere on the page. I don’t know how exactly this works but yeah.
Well there is the poll. Leave the comments here or on whatever other site you can contact me on.
Anyways, here’s a little something I thought of today in class.
Back to His Roots It was a unusually damp evening in the usually dry house of Tony Silveretti. Tony was a quiet man. Rarely did he have friends over, and even rarer was the meeting and appreciation of new people. He was a somewhat portly man, his face rounded out by the extra pounds and his cheeks often reddened by his sudden hyperthermia. He didn’t dress well, wrinkled t-shirts and a pair of shorts became his daily outfit, and he simply wasn’t confident. Tony only had two friends. Rosa Silveretti, his sister, and Gordon Dempster. Rosa and Gordon were engaged, had been since two summers ago, but due to their constant caretaking of Tony, their wedding simply couldn’t get off the ground. They weren’t complaining, but they constantly worried. The two of them loved Tony’s company and found him to be quite lovely when he was around them. But for some reason, which the two of them could not find out, Tony could not break his shell around others.
Rosa and Gordon decided to throw a party. At Tony’s. Without his knowing. They both thought of it as a means of breaking that tough shell of Tony’s, but not only to break said shell, but to break the news that they were moving forward with their wedding. Tony arrived around 7 P.M. The partygoers at 3 P.M. And so, by the time Tony had arrived; Rosa, Gordon and dozens of strangers had the party well underway. And not only that, but excluding Rosa, most of these partygoers were already quite drunk.
After a fit of anger, Rosa managed to calm Tony down and get him to join the party. And so we return to the beginning of our tale. It was an unusually damp night in the usually dry home of Tony Silveretti, and Tony wasn’t happy. With a drink in hand, Tony came to terms with the fact that the people in his home weren’t going to leave soon and he might as well make the best of it. While it wasn’t something he was comfortable with, he began to mingle. Women pushed him aside, men at times laughed and Tony wasn’t feeling a bit better.
His frustrations came to a point at around 9 P.M. He had wandered to his backyard, and he spent some time staring into the sky. Very philosophical like. A group of men had caught wind of the party’s host and his unfortunate inability to do any sort of socializing. They began to heckle poor Tony. Common jabs at his weight, his shy attitude, his clothing. Tony decided to humor them, returning their jabs with some clever remarks, some of which they laughed off and others they were confused by. Not a smart lot.
It came to the point where they questioned his being there. Their argument being, “No one likes you, bud. Not like ya have much to like.” At which point, Tony rebutted with, “Of course there is. I even think a few girls here might have actually taken a liking to me.” Mr. Silveretti was done with the clowns and figured that would be the end of it. So he turned away and headed back to the house. And that’s when they did it. And before I continue, it should be made known that Tony Silveretti, above all else, hated to be wrong. He had to be accurate, correct, simply put, he was a borderline perfectionist in that department.
“Well, Tonz. (One of those ridiculous nicknames… pronounced Tone-zuh.) You’re wrong. Everyone at this party has put in a bad word towards you.”
Y’see. It wasn’t so much that they continued to insult the poor man. But the fact that they said he was… wrong. And much like the Marty McFly of old, who was consistently queried as to whether or not he was a fowl, something plucked at Tony. He turned to his “friends”, with something new in his eyes. “Is that right…? Well. I put up with your fun and games… up to now. You have ten minutes to get off my property or you’ll regret ever waking up this morning…”
As much as these fools wished to insult him, something in his voice told them he was being completely serious. And that scared them. To their core.
Tony took a step forward, and the men disappeared into the house, and from the sounds of it, out the door. A smile appeared on Tony’s face and he turned to his fence. Hopping over, he began to walk from his home, leaving it behind and headed towards his new life.
Weeks after, Tony Silveretti was mentioned in papers as a criminal. An effective one as well. He hit three major locations in three successive days. Needless to say, Rosa and Gordon were succesful in their attempt to change this man. But not in the way they wished to.
——-
Well, that all started with the line about Marty McFly. Loved Back to the Future. And it expanded into… this. I might play with Tony’s character in the future and I understand the ending was a bit weak, but I had fun with it.
Tell me what you think.
Annnnyways. That was a nice bit of writing… I’m off to eat…
I do some of my best thinking at the oddest times.
Today, while on the way to the movies with my girlfriend (note: A source of intimidation and a bit of fear sat in the drivers seat. Her father.), I noticed a man on the phone. An Asian middle-aged man, yet wrinkled already. Stress? It would seem so. The man seemed bothered as he murmured into the phone at his side. He stared off towards what seemed to me to be nothing. I began to wonder about this man and of course my creativity took it ways it shouldn’t have gone. First, I imagined the nagging voice of his wife (of somewhere between 20-30 years) telling him that he wasn’t even close to where she thought she dropped her purse. Then immediately it switched. Maybe a mobster? Some sort of criminal. Arguing with a lackey or something of the sort. It would explain the nice watch he had and the nice phone as well. In the end, I floated towards… maybe he’s just ordinary. And I’m just too damned deprived of ideas and writing that I’m giving him interesting qualities. So be it.
The movie I ended up seeing was (500) Days of Summer. A romantic comedy… that isn’t exactly a love story. Tom Hanson (protaganist) feels that he won’t be happy until he finds the love of his life. Summer Finn (love interest!) has never believed in love (commonly reffering to it as a myth). Boy meets girl. Love is planted in boy. Girl, interested, yet firm in her belief, fails to fall in love. And so, we join Tom Hanson in his journey towards discovering what exactly should be done with his situation and his life.
Both actors give amazing performances and the editing in the movie is really well done. (Neat scene in the movie which shows how his expectations of a day don’t match up with reality, despite wishing it did.) The soundtrack is pretty badass too. Aheh.
I suppose both the man on the phone and Tom Hanson inspired me to write this… morning?
I bid you adieu, might post some more later in the day.
So. Nathan Hermanson is back.
In a small way.
My computer is down and I resort to using my mother’s laptop to appease my writing needs.
The Padres are actually doing well in this first week of the year, surprisingly so.
My hair is short.
I love wearing this hat.
Naet isn’t that lonely.
Hm. Might write me a review tomorrow. Killzone 2 or something. Who knows, I miss writing those types of things.
Writing a short story collection that is on hold because of computer being down. Sucks.
And then there was one. One reason. One excuse. One stupid reason for the writer’s absence. His lack of creativity? Possibly. His school work? Probable. His laziness? Definitely.
So here we are hm? Finally back to writing. Finally starting to force myself to balance 10 things at once, on a pinky. Ah. This is the life. Based on what I just said, you might think me crazy to be writing and such when I have so much else to do. But I laugh. I laugh at that. I am at my best when under pressure. I write essays minutes before they are do and sha-bam. Perfect scorez left and right.
So. I guess it’s only fitting that I write now, when I’m under all kinds of pressure already. Just… fits y’know?
Let’s see. What to talk about…
Ooh. I’ve got a little comic project going. You can find it here. :B It’s called Easter Eggs. It’s a little gamer comic. (So original aren’t I?) And it’s written by me and drawn by my good friend JAMIE. O:
Karma has been kind of on hold for a while… we just haven’t gotten to writing. I’ve told Kennith (co-author) that I’m ready to write, he says we’ll write, and then we don’t. D: So… I hope to get that started up again soon…
The baseball playoffs have started! O: And of course. My San Diego Padres were still cleaning (or more like dirtying…) the basement at years end. And to make matters worse, the Dodgers won the divison. If you didn’t know. I hate the Dodgers. With a passion. And not only did they win the division… they beat the Cubs in the first round and have a good chance to make it to the Series. Sigh. Why do my sports teams hate me?
Chargers suck. Plain and simple. They have not performed up to the level they should be and if we lose once more, you can write us off. We’re 2-3 and have lost games in the last seconds and losing to teams like… the Dolphins… and Denver. Panthers! Mind you, those teams are much better this year… but still. Disappointed.
School has been terrible. Only good thing is that P.E. has become laughably easy. My P.E. class spends its days in this gym-like area and plays basketball/volleyball all day. No running. No stretching. No push-ups/sit-ups. Just jog a lap and play basketball. Ah. I love passing the P.E. test. Other than that, no fun. Math is getting head-scratchingly hard, my AP class is being gay (though I should be fixing that soon) and I’m just not doing as well as I should overall. English… I think I’m fine with that. Speaking of which…
I wrote an essay on my grandmother’s passing. She was a great inspiration when she was around and it was a great loss to not only my family but to the general population. She was a great woman. Anyways, I wrote the essay (if you’d like to see it, please ask) and was overwhelmed by the reactions through the family. Most had said they were in tears or tears had welled up their eyes and that it was very well done. The only reason the family had read it was because my mother wanted me to send it around. When I did… I could have never expected what I got in return. I love you Grandma.
Le’see here… what’s new in the world of gaming for lil’ ol’ Naet? How about a little game called… LittleBigPlanet?! That’s right. Those of you who know should be “:O” right about now. Those of you who don’t… go outside right now. Okay. Out there? Now. Find the closest blunt object, make sure it doesn’t have any nails or any other foreign protrusions, and now… hit it against your forehead. Nice and shaken up? Good. Come back in. Now. LittleBigPlanet is a game on the PS3. The game is basically a workshop that hands you the tools to make some amazingly creative levels and gadgets. It’s amazingly well-done and the bit that makes this game even better is the ability to share these levels that you have designed with others around the world. There will be a Youtube-like community for these levels and gadgets. The amount of amazing levels and gadgets around this community is already overwhelming and will be amazing once the game is happening. “But Nate! How in the world could a community be already overwheliming if it isn’t out yet?!” I’m glad you asked. MediaMolecule (the creators) opened up a private beta and… well… I happen to have the beta. And LittleBigPlanet looks to be a truly revolutionary game. It places unlimited opportunity into your hands and let’s you run with it. If you haven’t heard of it, look it up or come by my place. I’ll be more than happy to introduce you to this world.
You play as a species of Sack People. Sackboys and sackgirls, they are made of burlap sacks with a little zipper in the front. They protray a wide array of emotions and love to jump. They have an affinity with swinging and spending time with other sack people. They love to have fun and traverse through various levels, collecting score bubbles and racing to the end. They are… the only inhabitants of LittleBigPlanet and I’d have it no other way.
One last thing about LBP (yes… LittleBigPlanet). It might seem hard to make levels and such but once you get into it, it isn’t that bad at all. Just a bit of effort, the right amount of creativity and a tiny bit of patience and you should have a decently fun level on your hands. It’s amazing how they made it so easy and fun to do it all.
Hm. What else shall I write about kiddies?
I haven’t written much fiction in a while. I feel so lame. But it’s not like my mind hasn’t been at work with new ideas and such. It has. Too much. But it has. For example, the intro to today’s post? I wrote it on my graphing calculator during my math class. Hehe. So just be on the look out. I’ll probably be posting new work in here. I just hope I haven’t lost my talent.
Y’know the worst part of starting this project again is? No recognition. I’m tellin’ you. I should be on CNN and Early Show’s around the world. Pshaw. I don’t see anyone else writing 1500 words a day. Ha-rumph. Sure, there are probably people writing gallons more than I do a day, but exactly 1500? I doubt it. See. I have a goal. I have something to look for. They all just overachieve. Psh. It’s all about achieving what you set out to achieve… or something.
I kid you. Don’t start out with your pitchforks and shovels. I kid.
And now comes the awkward part at the end of posts where I sit and ramble on, stumbling about topics and such.
It’s so odd. To call this Day 1 when I have over 60 other posts of 1500 words just sitting around over in my last attempt. And to be writing so much differently from my last Day 1. Ah. The good old days. Such a naive Nate was the Nate of Day 1, Attempt 1.
SO LIKE. I WAS A SCHOOL RIGHT? WHEN LIEK MY FRIEND OSCAR COMES UP AND IS LIEK. “WELL HAY NAET. WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO 1500 WORDS A DAY?” AND I WAS LIEK. “YOUNG MAN 1500 WORMS A DU-” AND THEN RACHEL POPPED OUT OF THE GROUND AND EAT OSCAR WITH HER TOENAIL. SHE THEN THREATENED TO SEND ME INTO THE ABYSS OF HER TERRIBLE TOENAIL. BUT I STOPPED HER WITH MY HAIR AND ESCAPED. THEN I WAS LIEK. OH YEH. I NEED TO WRITE. And here I am.
NOWNOWNOW. One new feature that should be frequent on the blogz. Drumroll please. *DRUMROLL*
Youtube Feature by Naet!
So basically I’ll do my own version of features on Youtube but it’ll be things I like. And it should feature a little review of the Youtuber and what you should watch of them.
Today’s Debut Feature? Pomplamoose.
A two artist band who handle the entire song by cutting and pasting the sounds together. Jack Conte and Nataly Dawn are the two artists who had esatablished themselves on Youtube before they joined together to create tha amazing beauty that is Pomplamoose. Their music is… really well done for an indie group and I have to say Nataly’s voice is great, Jack’s enthusiastic performances are always fun to watch and their videos are edited well. Check them out if you are a fan of music.
Those are my two recommendations… but I love them all. Check all of their stuff out!
And now we reach that fateful part of the evening where I bid you all adieu. Have a good night my precious little orange peels.
Oh. And by the way.
I’m back. (If that wasn’t already glaringly obvious.)
So. We’re back on the air, ladies and gents. Just want you all to know. I’m back in school. I’m hanging out with the same awesome people. Y’know. Houk, Oscar, Jaime, Rachel, the usual. If you don’t know who they are… then you obviously aren’t cool enough.
But seriously they are the cool people at school.
I HAVE SOME OTHER COOL FRIENDS. AMAZING FRIENDS ACTUALLY.
But they don’t go to school with me… D;
ANNNYWAYS. I am liking school so far and can’t wait to be working on 2039203 things at once. It’ll help for me to focus moar and prioritize.
Oh. One thing to say. I hate waking up at 5:00. Jeez. It’s so… early… and I’m so… tired… Hehe.
Dundundundundundundun. Miss me? I missed me. But guess what? All is well. I’m back. And this time I start over. When? You’ll have to wait and see. Just know… I’m back and I’m here to talk about the world. Not just my life. That didn’t seem to work. So. Back to Day 1. I failed the first time and here I am to try once more. Tha’s right. 1500 2.0
