Rewritten story from Friday in ‘Noble’ style

The ‘Noble’ style in the book seemed to use words that were sometimes overly complex without necessity, and made the simple recount appear to be a Legendary story. It also often referenced medieval times.

In the Feast Hall, during High tea, a young chap, perhaps of ten years old, was ingesting a specialty in the region: steamed pork and hardened milk sandwich, or as the people of the future would know it, a ‘ham and cheese sandwich’. His outer garment was too tightly pressed on his inner, with the whitened cloth of his torso stalking through the gaps his iron ore buttons formed. Young squires of the third battalion paced the royal corridors, uttering sounds from mouth to mouth while feasting on roasted Quail. One of the Squires accelerated in velocity and thrashed against the scapular of the young chap, who was entitled Wilbert.

That’s all I managed to write.

Andre Martinovici 10J

Advertisements

Exercises in style piece- Jason Li 10L

The style I tried to use was the onomatopoeia. I feel like I needed a few more onomatopoeias.

Raucous in the dining hall. Zing! A button flies off a blazer too tight but still done up. The possibly year 10 student wearing the blazer is chomping away at a possibly ham and cheese sandwich. Sounds of shoes clapping away as students blabber and enjoy their own sandwiches. Crash! Somebody smashes into the aforementioned student knocking his lunch to the floor. The student gasps and turns to shout but the culprit already zipped away. Squelch, splat, squish, the sandwich is already obliterated under the thundering feet of students rushing to class. “Pfft,” the student swears under his breath. Sighing, he goes over to a friend hoping to get some sympathy.

Two hours later he is daydreaming about defending himself against the events that just happened. The teachers monotone voice calls out his name twice. The second time he groans as he is slapped out of his dream and replies groggily ‘Pardon Sir?’

Expectations

How do you live with yourself, with your own expectation, and those of others, to be better than you are when you know that you just can’t be any more?.  I spend a lot of time going over things over my head, no one knows me better than myself and yet, I cant fathom why that’s a curse. Actually I totally do, I’m selfish, setting high expectations while being too lazy to reach them and by far, I think I can be the biggest prick that I know. I have some serious issues. But let’s not psychoanalyse everything about me, just the matters doing my head in. 
Being such a self aware person, it’s easy to spend hours on end hating myself. Hating my circumstances, hating the way I am, hating that self righteousness that don’t I deserve better? Surely I deserve better than being in that dead end of a path repeating every year, from the holidays where I wasted my times of self improvement, to the weeks in the term where I regret everything. I.Despise.Myself. The way I am; my body? My family? The religion I was born into? …..the way I look. And being terrified of not being smart enough.  It seems like one of those vague dreams where I was doing well…(in primary school) being happy with my results, study habits, being naturally smart. And as of now, being surrounded by the genii of our school. Why did I get in? I am yet to prove that intellectually I belong there, and this is what I am left with. My amazing legacy, the trace of extra/co-curricular activities I participate in. My friends and family ask me multiple times why I am so involved in what I am and you know what, I’m just a scared and trapped little attention whore. I’m writing this for attention, in fact. And I LOATHE knowing that about myself. 

I’m definitely digging myself a grave, while simultaneously trying to build my way out of it. I’m in a loop with myself and I don’t just want out, I wanna blow the whole freaking joint up.  But you know what, back to self hating, I can’t get past the fact that I’m nothing compared to what I keep building myself up to me. Every moment to myself thinking about I recently did, every glance at my reflection in the mirror. SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE THROWING UP WHEN I SEE ME. it’s like a nightmare where you keep wishing it to go away and sometimes you forget about things, let yourself go.mbut you know what, you just let yourself go im the middle of the sky and now you’re pummelling back into the real world with your heart and mind in two different places. Brewing apart in the free fall,  and looking for a recluse, a hiding place. But you can’t hide from yourself.

Well that’s enough for now. If I ever have such a deep moment of self hatred I’ll be sure to pop it down. But for now, that’s all. And sorry if this is a roller coaster, in fact, more like multiple roller coasters  and you’re jumping inbetween trying to get your head around what it is im trying to say. I guess this is more for me than anyone else. 

Writing Prompt: Parody – Satire at Its Best/Worst

The Internet has allowed the rise of a large numbers of parodies of popular ‘memes’ including songs, videos and other images that have spread through social media and become ‘viral’ simply by slightly changing an original idea and riding on its coattails. Parodies are often seen positively for being humorous and breathing new life into something that is already well-known and widespread, yet at their core they lack artistic integrity and change little, shadowing the achievements of others for recognition and attention.
In the world of writing, the concept of a parody is generally regarded unfavourably, yet elements of satire are common as authors challenge societal views and values by drawing upon pre-established conventions to create contrast. Satire itself is often imbued with humour as writers poke fun at what we often accept without question, provoking thought by masquerading as something that seems familiar.
A good example of this I recently came across were a collection of Japanese satirical ‘corporate slave fairy tales’ that effectively use parody to draw attention to Japanese society’s often unhealthy obsession with work (to the extent that the word karoshi meaning death from overwork is officially recognised in many English dictionaries). Familiar childhood fairytales become poignant criticisms, comparing idealisations with harsh realities.
American author Kurt Vonnegut is also well-known for his use of satire and black humour to support his views while simultaneously making his novels enjoyable and entertaining to read. Slaughterhouse-Five is one of his best known novels for going against the conventions of war novels, exploring the horrors of war from the perspective of Billy Pilgrim, a soldier who experienced the firebombing of Dresden, becoming ‘unstuck in time’ and reliving his past and present experiences as a comically bad soldier who seems to have survived by chance alone. Vonnegut favours humour – often of the bleak and depressing kind – over gritty realism to focus on how war has become perverted into a display of glorified nationalism and heroics instead of reflecting its true nature.
So if you find yourself stuck for ideas of what to write, as I have recently, using satire and writing a parody can be a way to ease yourself into creativity, or expressing your views more tangibly.

Writing exercises in style (using Raymond Queneau’s book)

There is a very good book in our library called Exercises in Style by Raymond Queneau. It contains the same story written in a wide range of styles. It even includes pig- and dog-latin!

For a writing activity this Friday I’ve pulled out some of the styles and whacked them into a slideshow. I’ve also written a short piece in the ‘notation’ style which is the first one in the book.  The idea is to look through the features styles in the slideshow below – or ask to look through the book (which I am holding onto at the moment) write the ‘notation’ story below in one of the styles. Have fun!

The story (in ‘notation’ style, ie stipped to the bare essentials which means you need to flesh it out, provide details, etc.)

Exercises in style – Raymond Queneau  –  My example for the exercise:

In dining hall, during lunch. A student possibly in year 10 whose blazer is too tight but still done up, the white of his shirt visible between the buttons. He is eating a sandwich, possibly ham and cheese. Students walking around, chatting, eating their lunches. Someone runs past the aforementioned student and bumps him so that his lunch falls to the floor. The student wants to shout out but the running student is gone. He bends to pick up the sandwich but it’s too late; it is squashed under the feet of rushing boys. He swears under his breath. His is unhappy but not used to standing up to others. He sees a friend and goes over to him, hoping to get some sympathy.

Two hours later he is daydreaming in class. In his dream he defends himself against all the unjust bullying and accidents he’s experienced. The teacher calls his name twice. The second time he looks up and says, ‘Pardon, Miss?’

MHS activities… Regrets…

Sensation. One by one they lurk within me, the neurons of the sensation of regret. A rather chilly and blustery April night it is, and these obnoxious neurons mildly loom, yet ever so consistently. Perhaps one February day they impulsively loom ever so belligerently, and another so serenely, like tonight.

The journey of seizing opportunities to co-curricular activities at my forthcoming to Melbourne High School has not been fulfilled. Despite immersing myself in a number of these privileges engulfed in jingoism, ebullience and ecstasy, I wish to declare many more activities that I wish to immerse myself into. Why am I not in them? Do not ask.

Debating… jetzt drei Jahre. Sorry,  ‘three years now’ I meant. I’ve recently been teaching myself to think in German in order to improve my German – not a bad idea hey? Well, snapping back to reality… Three years have I chickened out of debating. Debating – such a marvellous privilege that I progressively decide to discard! Oh, I cherish those names in the 2013 year book associated with FULL COLOURS for… DEBATING. This applies to my current Mathematical Methods tutor… A legend of a man who grasped every opportunity available during his MHS journey. And now it’s been three years that I had been so elegantly adjacent to selling myself to book a tryout, then last-minute reconsidering to shun. Why? I’m stupid… What to do for next year?????

Singers – such a renowned audition choir! Year 9 – joined Unicorns late so couldn’t audition. Year 10 – audition failed. Year 11 – FORGOT to attend an audition. What a joke. What else must I say? Now that the choral conductor has claimed to me that Unicorns is ‘full’, there is no way back. Ugh…

Musical – Maybe not know… But WHYYY not in year 9 and 10? I could’ve done effervescently sung on stage while ebulliently mingling with the lovely ladies. An awful lot of effort, time and work I am aware, although that doesn’t form an excuse not to get involved in my junior years. Regrets! And yes, by now you are reinstating to yourself the knack of pessimism that overruns this piece… You know how I feel aye.

The months go on, and what else am I looking for? Well, today I did attend economics club and book club with my name recorded. That’s a start… nevertheless… CONSISTENCY, I beg for your forgiveness! Somany other clubs have failed to respire in the midst of my presence. Philosophy association, reptiles and amphibians, political interest group, heritage club… Eh the list goes on.

Oh and also, the French horn is decreasingly looming away from my interest due to the stripping of time. Nevertheless, I wish to be in orchestra and Tattum Band! Gotta work harder or what? Time is time. Life goes on then.

Many more will inevitably fly past, however the best way I am able to approach this is to implement Mad-Eye Moody’s “Constant vigilance” to the bulletin, and perhaps interaction with the figurative heads of those clubs. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!

An April Night

To whom it may concern,

As the abyss of time inevitably drags me further away from youth and closed to the unstoppable misery of death, I have decided amid utmost spontaneous ness to write somewhat of an ‘auto-biography’ of myself, reflecting on the past, present and future.

My name is Akarin Siriamphone, and here I am, – sitting behind the computer screen, fingers frolicking upon the keyboard, on the last Sunday night of the term 1 holidays. I am currently a 16-year-old high school student studying at the prestigious Melbourne High School, a privileged set bent on optimism at its highest as well as plights of egotism and discomfort, which I had never predicted beyond my forth coming.

The past is the past. My first two years at Melbourne High School unravelled much effervescence and chauvinism, yet much gloom and dismay. Regardless of how precocious, sociable, sporty or musical I may have been, I must admit that this journey has illuminated me to extend beyond reach. The social environment deluged me in such an overwhelming manner, throwing me off the edge of my optimistic expectations. I lived out why Jekyll and Hyde described, “I was living in a world of grey each day, just like the one before…” – being the unique misfit I was, MHS annihilate my hopes of reposing in utopia, completely flipping my perception into pessimism. Things did not turn out well.

Nevertheless, opportunities emerged into vision, many of which I had immersed myself within. These decisions of mine continue to stretch into history as some of the most ebullient and unforgettable marks that had ever been planted into my mind, notably the developed passion of cross country and choosing to play the French horn.

Now that the abyss of time carries those gloomy and cherished experiences further and further away from where I am now, it also pulls me closer to some of the most crucial moments of my life (that I consider at this point in time anyway). The most predominant thought lingering in my mind in the time being is my PSYCHOLOGY 3/4 SAC on Wednesday. Something I wished I’d spent more time preparing for over the last two weeks of term 1 as well as the glamorous holidays…. As they say, “Quem não vive para servir não vive para viver” (“Those who don’t live to serve don’t serve to live.”). As a VCE student, I must struggle and strive to knick-knack myself in my studies to my utmost potential, and not yet have I reached the pinnacle. However, the pinnacle will sparkle and shine when the time comes… And when will it come ? Well, I don’t need you to tell me.

I hope to achieve an outstanding ATAR of at least 98.00, and to complete a double degree in Law/Arts at Monash, or possible Law/Politics Philosophy Economics at ANU. Although my studies inundate my mind right now, I am aware that the stretch of time emanates beyond me, where the many experiences of time are yet to engulf me.

Many mysteries lie ahead of me as life persists to afflict obstacles yet unravel many exquisite experiences. I would like to thank my parents, cousin, teachers and friends who have accompanied my side by side through this raucous adventure over the years. And for now, I vow to the, my studies, to exemplify improvements and success. Only then will my contention recite to me, “I SAW, I CAME, I CONQUERED’,

By Akarin Siriamphone, 12/4/2015, 23:35.