writing, books, and school.

have you ever tried to write a creative flash fiction story before...
no, i bet you haven't.
well i stink at it. like, seriously stink at it. all of the other kids in my class have these amazing ideas and write these seriously creative stories. and I'm here like, oh hey, i took this class for fun, not because i have any creative writing talent whatsoever.
I've been sitting here at my computer (of course with the tv on) all night trying to write something. but everything i can come up with so basic. 

and what especially sucks is that i have these dreams that i totally could be making into creative story, but i either can't remember enough of them to write about them, to i just don't know where to begin. 

(go ahead think I'm weird but i know we all have weird dreams, it just happens)

i think I'm just destined to read books for the rest of my life, not edit them, because as i found out, I'm not very good at that either.
hence why i decided my area of study in my major is going to be literature studies.

i was looking though the classes i would need to take and I'm actually quite excited for it.
don't get me wrong i know its going to be really hard and a ton of reading but I'm excited for it. some of the classes i will be taking will require me to read from authors like Jane Eyre, Edgar Allen Poe, John Milton, and Shakespeare. they have whole classes devoted to teaching about him. by the time i graduate i better have a freeking huge library. (i mainly want to study british literature, its so interesting and writers are so much more, well british...)

i have all of my classes picked out for next semester, although its totally stressing me out because 1) i will be taking 6 classes and 2) i have to sign up for my classes at midnight tonight.
the way they let people sign up for classes is in waves according to the number of credits you have accomplished.
technically i am a junior, so you would think that i could sign up early.
wrongo...
i have to wait till the third wave, which is midnight tonight.
for the most part, i know most of my classes will be open, i am only concerned for two of them, Spanish and a kickboxing class i want to take.
so here i am, staying up for a whole other hour just to sign up for classes.
luckily i mapped out when and which classes i will take last week, so hopefully it will all go smoothly.

college is a great thing, but at the same time, its a vortex that sucks in all your time, money, attention, and social life.
plus, they make you carry around all of these heavy books, which we then put in our backpacks. which in turn is actually bad for our backs because we try to compensate for the weight by hunching, which is bad for us. so therefore school is bad for us.

(don't you love my reasoning)

uggh.. just wish me luck.

ally

poetry

so if you have been keeping up with my blog at ALL, or know me, you will know i am in a creative writing class. we recently just finished our poetry section and i figured i should post some of my pieces. not because they are amazing, but just to post them. 

(plus i know i have like one follower, so might as well right? HA)

so ill start you off with something easy, a Haiku. 

(its only three lines!)

I really like to shop,

it brings me so much happiness.

—my wallet hates it—

and since this one has to do this shopping, i will now share with you my sonnet about Nordstrom. 

(this is a shakespearian sonnet, which means it has to follow a specific pattern. it was freeking HARD!)

Nordstrom

By Allyson Rengifo

Inviting, constantly calling my name,

it holds the key to my wallet and heart.

How could you not know of its fashion fame?

The alluringly glamorous isles of art

that make my heart powerfully cry out

songs of pure happiness. Who wouldn’t love this?

I remember when I could run-about

the store, buying everything with sheer bliss.

Rounders packed full with oodles of clothing,

Controlling myself—a difficult deed—

That would oft times leave me with self-loathing.

You would think that I would learn to take heed.

This store will probably put me in debt,

but it’s a debt I will never regret!

Oh, how I absolutely love shopping,

nothing can make me happier. I am

saddened by the money I am dropping.

These prices hit me with one big ka-blam.

I just can’t say no to all the shoes,

which I will surely one day, for sure, need.

Without them I will be singing the blues,

fact, it is unmistakably guaranteed.

I just want that beautifully crafted blouse

that fits me oh so well! But at that price,

I might as well be buy’n my future spouse!

Occasionally these things make me think twice.

I always end up swiping that black card.

I should really stop, but it’s just so hard.

Now i will share my first attempt at writing a rhyming poem, i don't know why, but for some reason i cannot rhyme. 

(i am particularly fond of the part about bilbo baggins.)

Attempt I

Allyson Rengifo

I sit here in my bed,

trying to conjure up

rhymes from inside my head.

Nothing comes, but I can’t let up,

not when there is a grade at stake.

This poem I must make.

But how am I to do this,

when the only words I can think of are

Wizards, dragons,

and the story of Bilbo Baggins.

How sweet would it have been,

to be able to wield a sword,

fight a battle and win,

meet a fancy young lord,

and end up happily ever after.

But words, I cant seem to capture.

I can’t yield a sword and

Lords, kings, and dragons don’t exist.

I cannot rhyme to save my life

And all I feel from this is anger and strife.

lastly, i choose to share my place poem, mainly because the other ones are too personal and there are specific people who i don't want seeing them. someone who will remain unnamed. but also because this is the first poem i had to write, and it is probably by far my favorite. 

My Place

Allyson Rengifo

This is my new home,

where I reside with three others.

We all have our spaces

and yet

I have no place

within this space.

There are students,

in every direction.

Yet, there is no one

near me.

I am alone,

as I usually am.

two sisters hide behind

their closed doors,

I hear their laughs,

drifting through the hallway.

The other is a mystery,

almost never around.

I have a room,

that looks like all the others.

Worn and used furniture,

walls smothered with patches:

Brighter patches, darker patches,

rough and smooth patches.

Few adornments

hang on the walls.

sad and lonely

against the barren barriers.

A rainbow array of clothes

lay scattered about.

Shoes piled like hills lie

under the bed that

is too tall for me.

I welcome the sunlight.

I often leave windows

and doors open

to let in the cool autumn air.

Fresh bursts of sunlight

make this a happy place.

A place where, in time

I will find my place.