Olive Music

January 3, 2012

Portfolio 3

Filed under: Uncategorized —— oliviaacevedo @ 5:01 pm

Retrospective:

This class was a great experience for me. I never considered myself a writer but I always had the desire to become one. I never thought I had the potential nor the inspiration to write anything worth reading. I’ve found with this class what I’m passionate about writing which is apparently the dead and supernatural. It was an odd but interesting discovery.

Music has always been my first passion and I have always wanted to write my own songs. No matter how much I tried I never found that the songs I wrote showed my full potential. I took exercises we did in class and applied them to music, for instance the poems were easy to add a melody to. What helped me most was having feedback from fellow students. Whether constructive criticism or words of encouragement, I enjoyed the fact that I could better myself through it.

My take away from this class is that I can and will begin writing music and maybe even continue writing short stories. I’m glad I took this class and even more glad we had an encouraging professor to guide us.

 

Untitled (short story)

I was only fourteen when I died. I used to think I was immune to all the crazy things I heard about on the news. Clearly I was wrong.

I was your typical wounded fourteen-year-old. My parents abandoned me before I can even remember, I had been a foster child my entire life. The only thing I knew was running away from my so-called “homes”, fighting with my so-called “parents” and being thrown into some other stranger’s care.

I met my best friend on one of the many nights I had decided to run away again. My foster dad came home and headed straight to the bathroom to hit the needle, as usual foster mom went ballistic. I was no where near prepared for another night of screaming and broken furniture so I climbed out my window with no intentions of returning anytime soon…or at all. I walked to the little kiddy park a few blocks down and sat on the swings until the sun came up. Around five in the morning I figured I should probably leave the area before my foster parents realized I was gone. Walking out of the park a guy around sixteen or seventeen came up and asked me for a light. Human interaction never really was my thing so I dismissed him pretty rudely. Didn’t stop him from following me down the block trying to get my name though. I wasn’t in the mood to fight him so I let him strike up his conversation. Turns out he was a foster kid and he was running from an insane family too. He was like an open book this kid; I’d never met anyone so eager to talk. I can’t lie though it was a bit refreshing having someone I didn’t have to explain myself to what with foster parents always asking, “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet? Don’t you like your new home?”

We walked around aimlessly for a while, he told me about his crazy religious foster parents who spoil him to no end because they think he’s the messiah or some shit. They cry when he acts out and then force him to go to church the next day. He got arrested for possession a couple of times, they told him he needs to repent and the only high he should be feeling is from the love of God. Nutcases apparently. So I told him about my drug addicted foster father and my psychotic foster mom. That’s not something I normally share with complete strangers, or anyone for that matter but I was oddly comfortable around him. I felt sane for the first time in a long time.

We walked and talked until it started to get dark again. It was around five in the evening when we realized neither one of us had eaten yet so he took me to a cute little cafe. He was a sweet kid, didn’t let me pay for a thing. Eventually he said he had to go home or his parole officer would have his ass. Earlier that day I had no intentions of going back to that hellhole but he convinced me. Something about him made me need him, and I felt like he needed me too. It was the start of a not so beautiful friendship.

I hadn’t realized how far we had gotten from home, turns out he only lived a few blocks from my hellhole. We took a short cut through an alley I was always too afraid to go through alone. The alley was a hell of a lot longer than it looked, I was starting to get nervous. Shit really hit the fan when some creepy older dude popped out of nowhere and started whispering to me about how sexy I was and how I should let him take me home. I didn’t have to think twice after that, I broke into a run followed by my newfound friend until we saw the streetlights. Once we caught our breath, we both bust out laughing. I think it was the best laugh I’d ever had in my life. Little did we know…

I completely regretted my decision to come back home after an hour or so, more yelling, fighting, questioning. Normally I’d just leave again but I couldn’t abandon the only friend I’ve really had. He said he’d see me tomorrow and for some reason I believed him…his promise kept me going. So I sucked it up, went to my room and ignored the noise.

I sat staring out the window for hours daydreaming about what my life would be like if my biological parents loved me enough to keep me, or at least make an attempt to find me now. I wondered what they looked like; did I look more like my mother or my father? Did they love each other more than they loved me? Are the still together, happy with a family that never included me?

Movement outside my window interrupted my thoughts. Eagerly hoping it was the boy I’ve become so familiar with so quickly, I walked to the window but the person was gone as abruptly as it came. This eerie feeling came over me sending a shiver down my spine, but I chalked it up to exhaustion and went to bed. Mistake number one.

The next day was Saturday; I didn’t get a number or anything so I didn’t know how he expected to get in touch with me but it didn’t take long to find out. I woke up to the doorbell ringing and my foster mom yelling up the stairs for me. I was too disoriented to wonder who was at the door being that I had just woken up but as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs I was wide-awake. There he was, smiling his huge smile in the most obnoxiously charming way possible. I had never been so glad to see someone at the door.

This happened every Saturday morning for the next couple of weeks. He was the best friend I always wanted; I wasn’t my normal cynical self around him. I was happy. I was naïve. Some weekdays he’d come pick me up from school and we’d walk around and talk for a while. One Friday after school, I can’t remember the date, it was getting dark and I noticed a man walking close behind us. I didn’t pay him any mind though, I felt safe with my best friend next to me. I can’t say that I regret trusting him so much… but I do regret not trusting my better judgment when I was with him.

It was getting dark and we were on our way home when I saw the same man walking towards us from up ahead. I didn’t think it was odd until I recognized him as the man we had run into in the alley way the first night we met… the same man, I realized, who was standing outside my window that night. It occurred to me that my friend probably hadn’t made the same connection I did. I didn’t know what to think. The man was to close he’d be able to hear me if I said anything. So we kept walking… I stopped breathing.

Next thing I knew I was on the ground, my friend looking down at me with regret in his eyes. A blow to the face and everything went dark. Next thing I knew I was laying on the cold ground in the dark with a swollen face. The realization of the fact that my new best friend had betrayed me hit me harder than the blow to my face. I was disappointed in him, but more in myself for being so stupid. I was so numb I couldn’t even cry…I was scared out of my mind but I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t believe I had let this happen to myself. I didn’t matter to me that he seemed to regret his decision to set me up I hated him. I was too angry to feel anything else.

The second I decided he was the biggest piece of shit I had ever come across in my entire fourteen years of life, the door opened and a light came from the top of the stairs. I forgot about my anger and damn near pissed myself with fear. I couldn’t move. Even if I could, there was nowhere to go. I was trapped, all because I trusted this idiot boy. Flashes of fear and anger as I heard someone climbing down the stairs. Two sets of footsteps. Was that fucking traitor there too? I should kill him. Why me man, why fucking me?! Someone’s crying. What the hell is going on? Halfway down the stairs the footsteps stopped and I saw the silhouette of a person being thrown down the stairs. The other set of feet went back up the stairs and slammed the door shut.

It was him; a rush of simultaneous relief and disgust overcame my whole body. I suddenly found my legs, stood up and started throwing anything I could find at the boy who made me trust him. He stood there silently taking all my blows until I paused long enough to let him explain.

He told me he and the mystery man had been working together for a while; his job was to lure young girls like me into his home. After that he hadn’t the slightest idea what the man did with them, he was being paid generously so he never asked questions until now. He had gotten too attached to me, he questioned the man and followed him home until the man got fed up and threw him in the basement with me.

I was fuming. I couldn’t believe he was giving me an apology speech when we were both locked in a goddam basement. But I was glad I wasn’t alone…partially because he made me feel safe, mostly because I’m an idiot. I forgave him because for once in my life I couldn’t be self-absorbed. No matter who’s fault it was, we were in this mess together and we needed each other. There was no sense in being angry with him, especially when I saw how scared he was for not only himself but me too. I could see how sorry he was in his eyes and I couldn’t hold it against him, not in a situation like this.

The door opened and we both reached for the other’s hand. I don’t remember much after that besides watching the mystery man slit my best friend’s throat and chop him into pieces. Then it was my turn…I was frozen. I let the man have his way with me and then I was dead.

Now here I am, the ghost of girl who watched her best friend die before meeting the same fate, waiting for my chance at revenge against the man who killed me.

The Walking Dead

It was the darkest of nights you could possibly imagine in a cold, wet forest where the trees covered the sky. Ophelia wandered aimlessly, pondering the latest events. No more than twelve hours ago she was to be wed to prince Lawrence. He was perfect, everything she had ever dreamed of. Her father had chosen the perfect suitor. She thought it was too good to be true… She was right.

Lets rewind to earlier that day …

She looked beautiful in her white dress. She was happier than she could have ever anticipated, the perfect bride, sitting in her dressing room waiting for her moment. The door opened and in the blink of an eye she was being held at knifepoint. Looking into the eyes of her attacker she knew her fairytale was over. Now here she is, wandering the forest, the corpse of Ophelia in her beautiful white dress. The Walking Dead.

She roamed for a while until a breeze sent a smell her way, the sweetest scent she had ever come across. She followed the charming aroma to find a hunter at work. Acting on impulse she charged at the man and before she knew, she had torn his flesh with her teeth and eaten his insides. Realizing what this meant she immediately formulated her plan of revenge.

There had always been talks of the Walking Dead in the city she was from but she thought she knew better than to believe old myths. Now that she was living this so-called myth, she saw it as the greatest blessing in her life…or death. But she had to be careful, the people of her town all knew the myth of the walkers so they knew very well how to get rid of them. A blow to the head and that’s the end of a walker. She needed back up, an army.

She searched the forest until she had bitten enough of the living to make a small mass of walkers. She led them into the quiet part of town to gather more for her army. When she felt she was satisfied with her numbers she went in search of the one who attacked her. She knew she had to remain hidden until her target was found, not an easy task when leading a small army of walkers. They remained in the shadows until they reached the church where, not so long ago, Ophelia was to be wed, the very church in which she was killed. She could see through the stained glass windows that the wedding had not been called off. No one had noticed she was dead. Confusion …

As it turns out, being dead improved her detective skills. Her attacker was a peasant; an evil, miserable nobody, and she had tried countless times to take Ophelia’s place as Prince Lawrence’s bride. Ophelia could see that the woman at the alter held an uncanny likeness to herself when she was living. The peasant woman had altered her appearance to resemble Ophelia in order to take her place as Lawrence’s wife.

Her rage was unmatched; she barged into the church prepared for a fight. The guards took action immediately; the others hesitated with fear but fought against Ophelia’s army as soon as they sensed the threat. In the chaos of the battle Ophelia wanted nothing but to find the bitch that took her life. Tearing people limb from limb as she walked, she made her way towards the alter where she found the man of her dreams protecting the woman he thought he loved. One look at Ophelia, dead as she was, he knew it was she. He let down his guard and looked to the stranger he had been protecting first with uncertainty, then fear, disgust, and then rage. He stepped aside to let Ophelia rip the woman to shreds and devour her insides.

When Ophelia was satisfied, she turned to Lawrence, lunged at his neck and sunk her teeth in as deep as she could. Now they were both walkers…walking together for all of eternity. The Walking Dead.

December 21, 2011

PORTFOLIO

Filed under: Uncategorized —— oliviaacevedo @ 2:04 am

Before this class I never thought of myself as much of a writer, but after these blog posts I see that there is more to writing than precise wording and witty phrasing. I thoroughly enjoyed writing about music and the reason I chose the two posts that I did is because I feel that my passion for music was clearly depicted in both of them. The feedback I received from you and my peers was encouraging. It felt good to have you all agree with my criticisms and relate to my opinions. Aside from that, I do think there is always room for improvement and I probably could have been clearer about certain things and I could have said a lot more and branched out more into different genres. I think I was too afraid to cover more information because it was slightly overwhelming to put it all into words.

As for my poems, I chose these (aside from them being the only two I posted) because they are the first pieces of poetry I have ever written. I’m extremely proud of myself for being able to follow a structure and also for showing emotions I wouldn’t normally show in an everyday situation. A lot of the reasons I was encouraged in poetry are the same reasons I was encouraged in my blogs. It feels good to get good feedback on work that might not be your best.

I believe that these short stories have shown the best of my work, I’ve done drafts upon drafts and these two are by far my favorites. This class has pushed me to my limits but of course I believe I have a lot more growing to do.

Blog post #1

So Maybe I’m a Little Critical

Hi, I’m Olive. I’m probably one of the most dramatic people you’ll ever meet and I’m in love with all things music and theatre related. I wouldn’t exactly call myself a musician, I know I’m not the best at what I do but I like to think I know the difference between good and bad music. I know, I know to each his own and all that. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not quick to judge and I’m extremely open minded musically but the truth is, the majority of music our generation listens to is absolute trash. Some might say I’m a snob but I think I’m just highly opinionated. At some point raw talent mattered less and less and it all became a popularity contest. The amount of talented artists who don’t make it in the music business is completely unfair.

Aside from talent, in a lot of cases (hip-hop specifically) we’ve lost even the substance of music lyrically. To quote one of my favorite hip-hop artists A Tribe Called Quest, “If only you can see through your elaborate eyes, only you and me hun, the love never dies” and to quote Lil’ Wayne, “I hit the strip club and all them b*tches find the pole” um… what? -_- Now I’m not going to lie to you, of course I listen to the music I’m talking about; I’ve learned to appreciate music solely for beats at this point. What I’m saying is if these sick beats were accompanied by equally sick lyrics the music would be a lot more aesthetically pleasing. Like The Weeknd for example, a relatively new hip-hop/R&B artist I’m not sure a lot of people have heard about. I’m currently playing his song “The Birds” on repeat <3

So that’s not to say all of this generation’s music is terrible. Two of my top five favorite artists started out their careers in this generation, Amy Winehouse (R.I.P) brought back the jazz tones we were so close to losing and Adele is blessing us all with her incredible voice. So who’s to say pure talent doesn’t count anymore? The point is artists who are less appealing and controversial to the media aren’t getting the credit they really deserve. If you’re not making a spectacle of yourself like Nicki Minaj, Katy Perry and Lady GaGa (all of whom I’m actually a fan of) you’re not getting as far. So yes, the less popular will have to work a little harder but I think its 100% worth it. Good music is what gets me through life, I don’t know what I’d do if it died out.

On a closing note, if you’re interested in good hip-hop, give my friend NyboЯ a listen [[www.NyborStuj.tumblr.com]]. I’m featured on a song or two so you’ll get to hear my talents as well. Hope you like it 🙂

Blog Post #4

Cash Rules Everything Around Me – C.R.E.A.M.

Have you ever gotten lost while listening to your favorite song? So mesmerized by the lyrics and the emotion the artist put behind it? I guess we all have, but what rarely crosses our mind is the image an artist must maintain in order to be successful. Today, the music industry is more superficial than ever, but appearance has been one of the most important parts of an artists career since artists began being shown nationally and internationally on television, and in magazines. To the record industry an artist is a cash flowing product first and an artist later. If Elvis’ appearance didn’t match his soothing vocals, record executives would have thought twice about signing him. This also goes with some of the biggest names in music history, Michael Jackson, the Beatles, Prince, Whitney Houston, and Mariah Carey, just to name a few. This trend followed into the 21st century with artists like Lady Gaga, Nicki Minaj, Drake, Justin Bieber and Katy Perry. Some would argue that when money is involved, talent takes a backseat to good looks.

Appearance may be nine tenths of the law, but we can’t forget about sales and ratings. When I was sixteen I auditioned for American Idol, clearly I didn’t make it very far. What surprised me most was the flamboyantly dressed drag queen who made it further than I did. I’m not quite sure the man in drag had talent, but he would definitely attract the attention of viewers at home, which means ratings. Controversy sells just as much as sex, and Jordan sneakers on a Saturday.

Combined, appearance and ratings or sales go hand in hand. Adele is the perfect example. She doesn’t fit in with the Gagas and Beyoncès of the industry because she is not “slim enough.” I can’t tell you how many times Adele has been judged by her appearance and not by her soulful voice and heartfelt lyrics. Because she doesn’t spark controversy, have a famous hair cut, or wear produce as apparel, she is pushed aside in order to make room for those who do. Luckily, Adele’s talent doesn’t go to waste, once people look past the superficial things and hear her music she’s appreciated. Adele is also on her way to being the top selling artist of 2011, with her album “21” being more than three times platinum (she is a musician, her job is to sing not to look like your fantasy). Although Adele faces much criticism, she proves that entertainment, sales, and appearance take a backseat to talent.

With one person breaking the trend, I hope it continues. This may encourage those with talents who don’t fit the “norm” to reach for their dreams.

Poem #1

Untitled

Help me get rid of this pain in my chest

This life is becoming too much for me

Spinning in circles my head is a mess.

 

It’s been far to long since I’ve laid to rest

Piles of papers are all I can see

Help me get rid of this pain in my chest.

 

Work, work and more work; oh God there’s a test?

Nine hours a day no time to study

Spinning in circles my head is a mess.

 

Burnt out, is the semester over yet?

Is this really worth a college degree?

Help me get rid of this pain in my chest.

 

My mind is broken, a leaky faucet

Dripping and dripping it drains all of me

Spinning in circles my head is a mess.

 

Desperation kicks in; temptations set

This life is becoming too much for me

Just one little fix, that isn’t far fetched…

Help me get rid of this pain in my chest.

Poem #2

Untitled

I don’t want to write a love poem,

I’m not sure what love is.

Instead I’ll write a hate poem,

‘cus they kind of go hand in hand.

I hate how quick we are to use it,

We sound so ignorant.

Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,

You can’t mean it, you don’t know what it is.

 

How will we know if we’re in love?

Don’t tell me you just know.

This isn’t just some fairytale,

Your actions DO have consequence,

And your lies can fuck us up.

Untitled (short story)

I was only fourteen when I died. I used to think I was immune to all the crazy things I heard about on the news. Clearly I was wrong.

I was your typical wounded fourteen-year-old. My parents abandoned me before I can even remember, I had been a foster child my entire life. The only thing I knew was running away from my so-called “homes”, fighting with my so-called “parents” and being thrown into some other stranger’s care.

I met my best friend on one of the many nights I had decided to run away again. My foster dad came home and headed straight to the bathroom to hit the needle, as usual foster mom went ballistic. I was no where near prepared for another night of screaming and broken furniture so I climbed out my window with no intentions of returning anytime soon…or at all. I walked to the little kiddy park a few blocks down and sat on the swings until the sun came up. Around five in the morning I figured I should probably leave the area before my foster parents realized I was gone. Walking out of the park a guy around sixteen or seventeen came up and asked me for a light. Human interaction never really was my thing so I dismissed him pretty rudely. Didn’t stop him from following me down the block trying to get my name though. I wasn’t in the mood to fight him so I let him strike up his conversation. Turns out he was a foster kid and he was running from an insane family too. He was like an open book this kid; I’d never met anyone so eager to talk. I can’t lie though it was a bit refreshing having someone I didn’t have to explain myself to what with foster parents always asking, “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet? Don’t you like your new home?”

We walked around aimlessly for a while, he told me about his crazy religious foster parents who spoil him to no end because they think he’s the messiah or some shit. They cry when he acts out and then force him to go to church the next day. He got arrested for possession a couple of times, they told him he needs to repent and the only high he should be feeling is from the love of God. Nutcases apparently. So I told him about my drug addicted foster father and my psychotic foster mom. That’s not something I normally share with complete strangers, or anyone for that matter but I was oddly comfortable around him. I felt sane for the first time in a long time.

We walked and talked until it started to get dark again. It was around five in the evening when we realized neither one of us had eaten yet so he took me to a cute little cafe. He was a sweet kid, didn’t let me pay for a thing. Eventually he said he had to go home or his parole officer would have his ass. Earlier that day I had no intentions of going back to that hellhole but he convinced me. Something about him made me need him, and I felt like he needed me too. It was the start of a not so beautiful friendship.

I hadn’t realized how far we had gotten from home, turns out he only lived a few blocks from my hellhole. We took a short cut through an alley I was always too afraid to go through alone. The alley was a hell of a lot longer than it looked, I was starting to get nervous. Shit really hit the fan when some creepy older dude popped out of nowhere and started whispering to me about how sexy I was and how I should let him take me home. I didn’t have to think twice after that, I broke into a run followed by my newfound friend until we saw the streetlights. Once we caught our breath, we both bust out laughing. I think it was the best laugh I’d ever had in my life. Little did we know…

I completely regretted my decision to come back home after an hour or so, more yelling, fighting, questioning. Normally I’d just leave again but I couldn’t abandon the only friend I’ve really had. He said he’d see me tomorrow and for some reason I believed him…his promise kept me going. So I sucked it up, went to my room and ignored the noise.

I sat staring out the window for hours daydreaming about what my life would be like if my biological parents loved me enough to keep me, or at least make an attempt to find me now. I wondered what they looked like; did I look more like my mother or my father? Did they love each other more than they loved me? Are the still together, happy with a family that never included me?

Movement outside my window interrupted my thoughts. Eagerly hoping it was the boy I’ve become so familiar with so quickly, I walked to the window but the person was gone as abruptly as it came. This eerie feeling came over me sending a shiver down my spine, but I chalked it up to exhaustion and went to bed. Mistake number one.

The next day was Saturday; I didn’t get a number or anything so I didn’t know how he expected to get in touch with me but it didn’t take long to find out. I woke up to the doorbell ringing and my foster mom yelling up the stairs for me. I was too disoriented to wonder who was at the door being that I had just woken up but as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs I was wide-awake. There he was, smiling his huge smile in the most obnoxiously charming way possible. I had never been so glad to see someone at the door.

This happened every Saturday morning for the next couple of weeks. He was the best friend I always wanted; I wasn’t my normal cynical self around him. I was happy. I was naïve. Some weekdays he’d come pick me up from school and we’d walk around and talk for a while. One Friday after school, I can’t remember the date, it was getting dark and I noticed a man walking close behind us. I didn’t pay him any mind though, I felt safe with my best friend next to me. I can’t say that I regret trusting him so much… but I do regret not trusting my better judgment when I was with him.

It was getting dark and we were on our way home when I saw the same man walking towards us from up ahead. I didn’t think it was odd until I recognized him as the man we had run into in the alley way the first night we met… the same man, I realized, who was standing outside my window that night. It occurred to me that my friend probably hadn’t made the same connection I did. I didn’t know what to think. The man was to close he’d be able to hear me if I said anything. So we kept walking… I stopped breathing.

Next thing I knew I was on the ground, my friend looking down at me with regret in his eyes. A blow to the face and everything went dark. Next thing I knew I was laying on the cold ground in the dark with a swollen face. The realization of the fact that my new best friend had betrayed me hit me harder than the blow to my face. I was disappointed in him, but more in myself for being so stupid. I was so numb I couldn’t even cry…I was scared out of my mind but I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t believe I had let this happen to myself. I didn’t matter to me that he seemed to regret his decision to set me up I hated him. I was too angry to feel anything else.

The second I decided he was the biggest piece of shit I had ever come across in my entire fourteen years of life, the door opened and a light came from the top of the stairs. I forgot about my anger and damn near pissed myself with fear. I couldn’t move. Even if I could, there was nowhere to go. I was trapped, all because I trusted this idiot boy. Flashes of fear and anger as I heard someone climbing down the stairs. Two sets of footsteps. Was that fucking traitor there too? I should kill him. Why me man, why fucking me?! Someone’s crying. What the hell is going on? Halfway down the stairs the footsteps stopped and I saw the silhouette of a person being thrown down the stairs. The other set of feet went back up the stairs and slammed the door shut.

It was him; a rush of simultaneous relief and disgust overcame my whole body. I suddenly found my legs, stood up and started throwing anything I could find at the boy who made me trust him. He stood there silently taking all my blows until I paused long enough to let him explain.

He told me he and the mystery man had been working together for a while; his job was to lure young girls like me into his home. After that he hadn’t the slightest idea what the man did with them, he was being paid generously so he never asked questions until now. He had gotten too attached to me, he questioned the man and followed him home until the man got fed up and threw him in the basement with me.

I was fuming. I couldn’t believe he was giving me an apology speech when we were both locked in a goddam basement. But I was glad I wasn’t alone…partially because he made me feel safe, mostly because I’m an idiot. I forgave him because for once in my life I couldn’t be self-absorbed. No matter who’s fault it was, we were in this mess together and we needed each other. There was no sense in being angry with him, especially when I saw how scared he was for not only himself but me too. I could see how sorry he was in his eyes and I couldn’t hold it against him, not in a situation like this.

The door opened and we both reached for the other’s hand. I don’t remember much after that besides watching the mystery man slit my best friend’s throat and chop him into pieces. Then it was my turn…I was frozen. I let the man have his way with me and then I was dead.

Now here I am, the ghost of girl who watched her best friend die before meeting the same fate, waiting for my chance at revenge against the man who killed me.

The Walking Dead

It was the darkest of nights you could possibly imagine in a cold, wet forest where the trees covered the sky. Ophelia wandered aimlessly, pondering the latest events. No more than twelve hours ago she was to be wed to prince Lawrence. He was perfect, everything she had ever dreamed of. Her father had chosen the perfect suitor. She thought it was too good to be true… She was right.

Lets rewind to earlier that day …

She looked beautiful in her white dress. She was happier than she could have ever anticipated, the perfect bride, sitting in her dressing room waiting for her moment. The door opened and in the blink of an eye she was being held at knifepoint. Looking into the eyes of her attacker she knew her fairytale was over. Now here she is, wandering the forest, the corpse of Ophelia in her beautiful white dress. The Walking Dead.

She roamed for a while until a breeze sent a smell her way, the sweetest scent she had ever come across. She followed the charming aroma to find a hunter at work. Acting on impulse she charged at the man and before she knew, she had torn his flesh with her teeth and eaten his insides. Realizing what this meant she immediately formulated her plan of revenge.

There had always been talks of the Walking Dead in the city she was from but she thought she knew better than to believe old myths. Now that she was living this so-called myth, she saw it as the greatest blessing in her life…or death. But she had to be careful, the people of her town all knew the myth of the walkers so they knew very well how to get rid of them. A blow to the head and that’s the end of a walker. She needed back up, an army.

She searched the forest until she had bitten enough of the living to make a small mass of walkers. She led them into the quiet part of town to gather more for her army. When she felt she was satisfied with her numbers she went in search of the one who attacked her. She knew she had to remain hidden until her target was found, not an easy task when leading a small army of walkers. They remained in the shadows until they reached the church where, not so long ago, Ophelia was to be wed, the very church in which she was killed. She could see through the stained glass windows that the wedding had not been called off. No one had noticed she was dead. Confusion …

As it turns out, being dead improved her detective skills. Her attacker was a peasant; an evil, miserable nobody, and she had tried countless times to take Ophelia’s place as Prince Lawrence’s bride. Ophelia could see that the woman at the alter held an uncanny likeness to herself when she was living. The peasant woman had altered her appearance to resemble Ophelia in order to take her place as Lawrence’s wife.

Her rage was unmatched; she barged into the church prepared for a fight. The guards took action immediately; the others hesitated with fear but fought against Ophelia’s army as soon as they sensed the threat. In the chaos of the battle Ophelia wanted nothing but to find the bitch that took her life. Tearing people limb from limb as she walked, she made her way towards the alter where she found the man of her dreams protecting the woman he thought he loved. One look at Ophelia, dead as she was, he knew it was she. He let down his guard and looked to the stranger he had been protecting first with uncertainty, then fear, disgust, and then rage. He stepped aside to let Ophelia rip the woman to shreds and devour her insides.

When Ophelia was satisfied, she turned to Lawrence, lunged at his neck and sunk her teeth in as deep as she could. Now they were both walkers…walking together for all of eternity. The Walking Dead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

December 14, 2011

The Walking Dead

Filed under: Uncategorized —— oliviaacevedo @ 5:22 am

It was the darkest of nights you could possibly imagine in a cold, wet forest where the trees covered the sky. Ophelia wandered aimlessly, pondering the latest events. No more than twelve hours ago she was to be wed to prince Lawrence. He was perfect, everything she had ever dreamed of. Her father had chosen the perfect suitor. She thought it was too good to be true… She was right.

Lets rewind to earlier that day …

She looked beautiful in her white dress. She was happier than she could have ever anticipated, the perfect bride, sitting in her dressing room waiting for her moment. The door opened and in the blink of an eye she was being held at knifepoint. Looking into the eyes of her attacker she knew her fairytale was over. Now here she is, wandering the forest, the corpse of Ophelia in her beautiful white dress. The Walking Dead.

She roamed for a while until a breeze sent a smell her way, the sweetest scent she had ever come across. She followed the charming aroma to find a hunter at work. Acting on impulse she charged at the man and before she knew, she had torn his flesh with her teeth and eaten his insides. Realizing what this meant she immediately formulated her plan of revenge.

There had always been talks of the Walking Dead in the city she was from but she thought she knew better than to believe old myths. Now that she was living this so-called myth, she saw it as the greatest blessing in her life…or death. But she had to be careful, the people of her town all knew the myth of the walkers so they knew very well how to get rid of them. A blow to the head and that’s the end of a walker. She needed back up, an army.

She searched the forest until she had bitten enough of the living to make a small mass of walkers. She led them into the quiet part of town to gather more for her army. When she felt she was satisfied with her numbers she went in search of the one who attacked her. She knew she had to remain hidden until her target was found, not an easy task when leading a small army of walkers. They remained in the shadows until they reached the church where, not so long ago, Ophelia was to be wed, the very church in which she was killed. She could see through the stained glass windows that the wedding had not been called off. No one had noticed she was dead. Confusion …

As it turns out, being dead improved her detective skills. Her attacker was a peasant; an evil, miserable nobody, and she had tried countless times to take Ophelia’s place as Prince Lawrence’s bride. Ophelia could see that the woman at the alter held an uncanny likeness to herself when she was living. The peasant woman had altered her appearance to resemble Ophelia in order to take her place as Lawrence’s wife.

Her rage was unmatched; she barged into the church prepared for a fight. The guards took action immediately; the others hesitated with fear but fought against Ophelia’s army as soon as they sensed the threat. In the chaos of the battle Ophelia wanted nothing but to find the bitch that took her life. Tearing people limb from limb as she walked, she made her way towards the alter where she found the man of her dreams protecting the woman he thought he loved. One look at Ophelia, dead as she was, he knew it was she. He let down his guard and looked to the stranger he had been protecting first with uncertainty, then fear, disgust, and then rage. He stepped aside to let Ophelia rip the woman to shreds and devour her insides.

When Ophelia was satisfied, she turned to Lawrence, lunged at his neck and sunk her teeth in as deep as she could. Now they were both walkers…walking together for all of eternity. The Walking Dead.

November 7, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized —— oliviaacevedo @ 11:32 pm

I was only fourteen when I died. I used to think I was immune to all the crazy things I heard about on the news. Clearly I was wrong.

I was your typical wounded fourteen-year-old. My parents abandoned me before I can even remember, I had been a foster child my entire life. The only thing I knew was running away from my so-called “homes”, fighting with my so-called “parents” and being thrown into some other stranger’s care.

I met my best friend on one of the many nights I had decided to run away again. My foster dad came home and headed straight to the bathroom to hit the needle, as usual foster mom went ballistic. I was no where near prepared for another night of screaming and broken furniture so I climbed out my window with no intentions of returning anytime soon…or at all. I walked to the little kiddy park a few blocks down and sat on the swings until the sun came up. Around five in the morning I figured I should probably leave the area before my foster parents realized I was gone. Walking out of the park a guy around sixteen or seventeen came up and asked me for a light. Human interaction never really was my thing so I dismissed him pretty rudely. Didn’t stop him from following me down the block trying to get my name though. I wasn’t in the mood to fight him so I let him strike up his conversation. Turns out he was a foster kid and he was running from an insane family too. He was like an open book this kid; I’d never met anyone so eager to talk. I can’t lie though it was a bit refreshing having someone I didn’t have to explain myself to what with foster parents always asking, “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet? Don’t you like your new home?”

We walked around aimlessly for a while, he told me about his crazy religious foster parents who spoil him to no end because they think he’s the messiah or some shit. They cry when he acts out and then force him to go to church the next day. He got arrested for possession a couple of times, they told him he needs to repent and the only high he should be feeling is from the love of God. Nutcases apparently. So I told him about my drug addicted foster father and my psychotic foster mom. That’s not something I normally share with complete strangers, or anyone for that matter but I was oddly comfortable around him. I felt sane for the first time in a long time.

We walked and talked until it started to get dark again. It was around five in the evening when we realized neither one of us had eaten yet so he took me to a cute little cafe. He was a sweet kid, didn’t let me pay for a thing. Eventually he said he had to go home or his parole officer would have his ass. Earlier that day I had no intentions of going back to that hellhole but he convinced me. Something about him made me need him, and I felt like he needed me too. It was the start of a not so beautiful friendship.

I hadn’t realized how far we had gotten from home, turns out he only lived a few blocks from my hellhole. We took a short cut through an alley I was always too afraid to go through alone. The alley was a hell of a lot longer than it looked, I was starting to get nervous. Shit really hit the fan when some creepy older dude popped out of nowhere and started whispering to me about how sexy I was and how I should let him take me home. I didn’t have to think twice after that, I broke into a run followed by my newfound friend until we saw the streetlights. Once we caught our breath, we both bust out laughing. I think it was the best laugh I’d ever had in my life. Little did we know…

I completely regretted my decision to come back home after an hour or so, more yelling, fighting, questioning. Normally I’d just leave again but I couldn’t abandon the only friend I’ve really had. He said he’d see me tomorrow and for some reason I believed him…his promise kept me going. So I sucked it up, went to my room and ignored the noise.

I sat staring out the window for hours daydreaming about what my life would be like if my biological parents loved me enough to keep me, or at least make an attempt to find me now. I wondered what they looked like; did I look more like my mother or my father? Did they love each other more than they loved me? Are the still together, happy with a family that never included me?

Movement outside my window interrupted my thoughts. Eagerly hoping it was the boy I’ve become so familiar with so quickly, I walked to the window but the person was gone as abruptly as it came. This eerie feeling came over me sending a shiver down my spine, but I chalked it up to exhaustion and went to bed. Mistake number one.

The next day was Saturday; I didn’t get a number or anything so I didn’t know how he expected to get in touch with me but it didn’t take long to find out. I woke up to the doorbell ringing and my foster mom yelling up the stairs for me. I was too disoriented to wonder who was at the door being that I had just woken up but as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs I was wide-awake. There he was, smiling his huge smile in the most obnoxiously charming way possible. I had never been so glad to see someone at the door.

This happened every Saturday morning for the next couple of weeks. He was the best friend I always wanted; I wasn’t my normal cynical self around him. I was happy. I was naïve. Some weekdays he’d come pick me up from school and we’d walk around and talk for a while. One Friday after school, I can’t remember the date, it was getting dark and I noticed a man walking close behind us. I didn’t pay him any mind though, I felt safe with my best friend next to me. I can’t say that I regret trusting him so much… but I do regret not trusting my better judgment when I was with him.

It was getting dark and we were on our way home when I saw the same man walking towards us from up ahead. I didn’t think it was odd until I recognized him as the man we had run into in the alley way the first night we met… the same man, I realized, who was standing outside my window that night. It occurred to me that my friend probably hadn’t made the same connection I did. I didn’t know what to think. The man was to close he’d be able to hear me if I said anything. So we kept walking… I stopped breathing.

Next thing I knew I was on the ground, my friend looking down at me with regret in his eyes. A blow to the face and everything went dark. Next thing I knew I was laying on the cold ground in the dark with a swollen face. The realization of the fact that my new best friend had betrayed me hit me harder than the blow to my face. I was disappointed in him, but more in myself for being so stupid. I was so numb I couldn’t even cry…I was scared out of my mind but I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t believe I had let this happen to myself. I didn’t matter to me that he seemed to regret his decision to set me up I hated him. I was too angry to feel anything else.

The second I decided he was the biggest piece of shit I had ever come across in my entire fourteen years of life, the door opened and a light came from the top of the stairs. I forgot about my anger and damn near pissed myself with fear. I couldn’t move. Even if I could, there was nowhere to go. I was trapped, all because I trusted this idiot boy. Flashes of fear and anger as I heard someone climbing down the stairs. Two sets of footsteps. Was that fucking traitor there too? I should kill him. Why me man, why fucking me?! Someone’s crying. What the hell is going on? Halfway down the stairs the footsteps stopped and I saw the silhouette of a person being thrown down the stairs. The other set of feet went back up the stairs and slammed the door shut.

It was him; a rush of simultaneous relief and disgust overcame my whole body. I suddenly found my legs, stood up and started throwing anything I could find at the boy who made me trust him. He stood there silently taking all my blows until I paused long enough to let him explain.

He told me he and the mystery man had been working together for a while; his job was to lure young girls like me into his home. After that he hadn’t the slightest idea what the man did with them, he was being paid generously so he never asked questions until now. He had gotten too attached to me, he questioned the man and followed him home until the man got fed up and threw him in the basement with me.

I was fuming. I couldn’t believe he was giving me an apology speech when we were both locked in a goddam basement. But I was glad I wasn’t alone…partially because he made me feel safe, mostly because I’m an idiot. I forgave him because for once in my life I couldn’t be self-absorbed. No matter who’s fault it was, we were in this mess together and we needed each other. There was no sense in being angry with him, especially when I saw how scared he was for not only himself but me too. I could see how sorry he was in his eyes and I couldn’t hold it against him, not in a situation like this.

The door opened and we both reached for the other’s hand. I don’t remember much after that besides watching the mystery man slit my best friend’s throat and chop him into pieces. Then it was my turn…I was frozen. I let the man have his way with me and then I was dead.

Now here I am, the ghost of girl who watched her best friend die before meeting the same fate, waiting for my chance at revenge against the man who killed me.

October 17, 2011

Filed under: poems —— oliviaacevedo @ 10:45 pm
DISCLAIMER: I'm suffering from serious writers block,
I'm not even sure this is a real poem.
Enjoy my mess.
-----------------------------------------
I don't want to write a love poem,
I'm not sure what love is.
Instead I'll write a hate poem,
'cus they kind of go hand in hand.

I hate how quick we are to use it,
We sound so ignorant.
Don't say it if you don't mean it,
You can't mean it, you don't know what it is.

How will we know if we're in love?
Don't tell me you just know.
This isn't just some fairytale,
Your actions DO have consequence,
And your lies can fuck us up.

October 11, 2011

Filed under: poems —— oliviaacevedo @ 6:09 am

Help me get rid of this pain in my chest

This life is becoming too much for me

Spinning in circles my head is a mess.

 

It’s been far to long since I’ve laid to rest

Piles of papers are all I can see

Help me get rid of this pain in my chest.

 

Work, work and more work; oh God there’s a test?

Nine hours a day no time to study

Spinning in circles my head is a mess.

 

Burnt out, is the semester over yet?

Is this really worth a college degree?

Help me get rid of this pain in my chest.

 

My mind is broken, a leaky faucet

Dripping and dripping it drains all of me

Spinning in circles my head is a mess.

 

Desperation kicks in; temptations set

This life is becoming too much for me

Just one little fix, that isn’t far fetched…

Help me get rid of this pain in my chest.

October 3, 2011

Cash Rules Everything Around Me – C.R.E.A.M.

Filed under: music —— oliviaacevedo @ 1:37 am

Have you ever gotten lost while listening to your favorite song? So mesmerized by the lyrics and the emotion the artist put behind it? I guess we all have, but what rarely crosses our mind is the image an artist must maintain in order to be successful. Today, the music industry is more superficial than ever, but appearance has been one of the most important parts of an artists career since artists began being shown nationally and internationally on television, and in magazines. To the record industry an artist is a cash flowing product first and an artist later. If Elvis’ appearance didn’t match his soothing vocals, record executives would have thought twice about signing him. This also goes with some of the biggest names in music history, Michael Jackson, the Beatles, Prince, Whitney Houston, and Mariah Carey, just to name a few. This trend followed into the 21st century with artists like Lady Gaga, Nicki Minaj, Drake, Justin Bieber and Katy perry. Some would argue that when money is involved, talent takes a backseat to good looks.

Appearance may be nine tenths of the law, but we can’t forget about sales and ratings. When I was sixteen I auditioned for American Idol, clearly I didn’t make it very far. What surprised me most was the flamboyantly dressed drag queen who made it further than I did. I’m not quite sure the man in drag had talent, but he would definitely attract the attention of viewers at home, which means ratings. Controversy sells just as much as sex, and Jordan sneakers on a Saturday.

Combined, appearance and ratings or sales go hand in hand. Adele is the perfect example. She doesn’t fit in with the Gagas and Beyoncès of the industry because she is not “slim enough.” I can’t tell you how many times Adele has been judged by her appearance and not by her soulful voice and heartfelt lyrics. Because she does’t spark controversy, have a famous hair cut, or wear produce as apparel, she is pushed aside in order to make room for those who do. Luckily, Adele’s talent doesn’t go to waste, once people look past the superficial things and hear her music she’s appreciated. Adele is also on her way to being the top selling artist of 2011, with her album “21” being more than three times platinum (she is a musician, her job is to sing not to look like your fantasy). Although Adele faces much criticism, she proves that entertainment, sales, and appearance take a backseat to talent.

With one person breaking the trend, I hope it continues. This may encourage those with talents who don’t fit the “norm” to reach for their dreams.

September 26, 2011

Filed under: music —— oliviaacevedo @ 4:19 pm

Its not easy to put yourself out into a world of established musicians who are sure to judge you. I’m not a very shy person but when it comes to singing I get extremely self conscious. A lot of my friends have just recently started to hear me sing. When it comes to performing, I’m a complete mess. I have no energy on stage, I completely lose myself. I one hundred and ten percent admire all of the artists and upcoming artists who can do things like this with confidence. So to challenge myself, I’ve recorded this video for you guys, something I wouldn’t normally do for complete strangers. Let It Be – Across the Universe Version I’d love to hear your feedback. Hope you like it 🙂

Music isn’t just about the sound, there’s a lot of emotion and passion that goes into a good artist’s work and it takes a whole lot more to broadcast those deep feelings to people you don’t know let alone the ones you do. These components not only make for better songs but also an appealing vocal arrangement. Adele’s newest album “21” sends us such a powerful message about her past breakup. She sings her entire heart out into that album, just hearing her words you can almost literally feel her pain. Its hard for me to perform songs I’m not personally attached to, I can hardly imagine how it would feel to pour my entire heart out for the world to see. Artists similar to Adele deserve more credit than they get. Like Duffy for example, her song “Mercy” might be the only song a lot of people know but in reality she’s highly underrated. She has a great voice for one and she’s just as passionate in her music as Adele. Then we have artists like Amy Winehouse, who’s talents are completely overrated based on how the public views them. Amy Winehouse, in my opinion, is one of the greatest singers of our time and yet, before she died, she got so little credit because she was addicted to drugs and that’s all our media focused on. If you ask me, the media is what’s ruining our music industry.

Granted, its not easy to find artists who aren’t well known so here are some suggestions as to how you can go about it if you’re interested: browsing youtube for people who cover other artists songs because a lot of them have their own original songs as well. Also, Pandora is great because when you listen to a certain artist’s playlist they also throw in a few artists similar to them you might also be interested in. I honestly wish more people knew to do this, its not a question of how terrible one’s taste in music is, its about not knowing where to look for better music. So hopefully you’ll take my advice and tell your friends as well.

September 20, 2011

Don’t forget the lyrics!

Filed under: music —— oliviaacevedo @ 4:47 pm

I’ll start off by saying I realized I wasn’t entirely clear about where to find NyboЯ and what song I’m featured on. So heres a direct link to “Élan Vital” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27KGOAROLiU and feel free to subscribe to her youtube channel for more. I’ll be featured on a few of her newer tracks as well so stay tuned for those.

Now for the good stuff, I’ve been thinking seriously about everything I said in my last post (hence why this post is so late) and I wanna elaborate more on my own preferences lyrically speaking. I know I said lyrics lately lack substance and I stick to that statement completely but I also believe some of these artists who rap about nothing can be intriguing. I realize that might be difficult to understand so I’ll show you what I mean. There’s a group a lot of you may have heard of called OFWGKTA which stands for “Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All”. As you can probably tell by their title, they’re a bit off the wall. The group is made up off artists ranging from R&B singers to rappers and producers etc. Now the most popular, I think, of this group would be Tyler, the Creator who is possibly the most vulgar rapper I’ve ever come across. He raps about all the raw, disgusting (for lack of a better word) thoughts we all have but would never make public. Lyrically, he’s different; I can’t say I’ve ever heard another rapper like him so my point here is that he puts his own private thoughts into his lyrics and that is what makes it intriguing, its real and it says something about his character whereas artists like Kanye West rap about cars and money and being “gangster” and tell no story about who they are or what they think. Its like reading a book with no plot or storyline. Don’t get me wrong, Kanye West produces some of the best beats of our time but we’re talking lyrics for now.

Going back to artists with lyrical substance, J. Cole is one of my favorite rappers right now because of this reason specifically. Listening to his music you get a feel for how he grew up, where he’s been in his life whether  its about family, love or the things he’s witnessed. So again, its a matter of putting your heart and soul into the music so the listener feels where you’re coming from. I think good music has a certain impact on the life of the listener and that’s what I think music is lacking nowadays. Some artists forget that they should relate to their fans as well, a lot of us listen to certain songs at certain times because they reflect how we’re feeling at the time but I’m not sure any one of us Plain Janes can identify with lines like “bought the chain that always give me back pain” (Kanye West, Monster).

Somehow my posts have become all about hip hop but I haven’t forgotten about all the other genres out there. Stay tuned, next week I’ll give you guys something new… and I might surprise you all with a little video as well 😉

September 11, 2011

So maybe I’m a little critical…

Filed under: music —— oliviaacevedo @ 4:16 am
          Hi, I’m Olive. I’m probably one of the most dramatic people you’ll ever meet and I’m in love with all things music and theatre related. I wouldn’t exactly call myself a musician, I know I’m not the best at what I do but I like to think I know the difference between good and bad music. I know, I know to each his own and all that. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not quick to judge and I’m extremely open minded musically but the truth is, the majority of music our generation listens to is absolute trash. Some might say I’m a snob but I think I’m just highly opinionated. At some point raw talent mattered less and less and it all became a popularity contest. The amount of talented artists who don’t make it in the music business is completely unfair.
          Aside from talent, in a lot of cases (hip-hop specifically) we’ve lost even the substance of music lyrically. To quote one of my favorite hip-hop artists A Tribe Called Quest, “If only you can see through your elaborate eyes, only you and me hun, the love never dies” and to quote Lil’ Wayne, “I hit the strip club and all them b*tches find the pole” um… what? -_- Now I’m not going to lie to you, of course I listen to the music I’m talking about; I’ve learned to appreciate music solely for beats at this point. What I’m saying is if these sick beats were accompanied by equally sick lyrics the music would be a lot more aesthetically pleasing. Like The Weeknd for example, a relatively new hip-hop/R&B artist I’m not sure a lot of people have heard about. I’m currently playing his song “The Birds” on repeat <3
          So that’s not to say all of this generation’s music is terrible. Two of my top five favorite artists started out their careers in this generation, Amy Winehouse (R.I.P) brought back the jazz tones we were so close to losing and Adele is blessing us all with her incredible voice. So who’s to say pure talent doesn’t count anymore? The point is artists who are less appealing and controversial to the media aren’t getting the credit they really deserve. If you’re not making a spectacle of yourself like Nicki Minaj, Katy Perry and Lady GaGa (all of whom I’m actually a fan of) you’re not getting as far. So yes, the less popular will have to work a little harder but I think its 100% worth it. Good music is what gets me through life, I don’t know what I’d do if it died out.
          On a closing note, if you’re interested in good hip-hop, give my friend NyboЯ a listen [[www.NyborStuj.tumblr.com]]. I’m featured on a song or two so you’ll get to hear my talents as well. Hope you like it 🙂

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