“Can you hold my coat? I’m going to just walk around for a bit,” she said, handing off her long, black jacket to her husband before he had a chance to respond. Continue reading
Yeah, I’m a mega-nerd, as mega-nerdy as they come.
Text alignment isn’t just for right-aligning headers and center-aligning titles and tabbing over for paragraphs and such. You, the creator, can utilize it as a stylistic tool in your writing. Continue reading
One. I’ll pluck a strand of your hair and compare it to honey,
light brown and translucent in the sunshine.
Two. I’ll fall in love with a bad song you recommend, only because you love it.
Three. I’ll take you somewhere I love because I want to show you where my soul goes to hide. Continue reading
She walks into the lunchroom, feet following the rhythm of those of the three girls who walk in by her side. Veering through the mess of chairs and tables, this quartet makes their way to their favorite lunch line, with their favorite lunch lady.
“Ew, there’s water on this plate!” wails one of her friends.
“Oh my god, that’s gross…” agrees another.
She picks a wet plate up with two fingers acting as tongs, her nose wrinkled distastefully.
“This fork is bent!” Disgust has crept into her voice. Continue reading
Sitting in class, I hear the teach say do silent work; you can use headphones if you’d like. I pull them on and work silently for a few. But silence is curiosity suppressed and I look up. Continue reading
So quick backstory. This is Earth, about a thousand years later. We’ve averted the global warming crisis of 2032 and 2503, but because of this, Earth is now an inhabitable wasteland, save for its middle atmosphere, where humanity now lives. Having built a floating city using anti-gravity technology developed in 2380 when humanity tried to flee the Earth in search of another planet to habitat. Now. Life on a floating city in the future sounds great and all, but remember: Humans live on resources, and there are none in the atmosphere. Or so we thought. That’s why the majority of the humans in here operate in the mines, large chunks of land that were blown off the surface and caught in the Floating City’s anti-grav field. Continue reading
Happy first anniversary to Never Stationary!
Exactly one year ago today, I stifled my self-consciousness and started this blog. A year later, I am still churning away at the press and we haven’t seemed to lose steam. Of course, my last few posts have been few and in-between, but please forgive me, as my knees are practically giving in under the amount of work and effort that first-semester senior year requires of me.
We’ve come a long way, yes we have. My first few posts were rather structured: if I published a poem, it had to rhyme. I tried to write at least every other day, following writing prompt guidelines very closely. My primary sources of inspiration were writing prompt websites.
Now, I write free-form poems. Sometimes I publish three posts in a day, and sometimes I’ll go two weeks without posting anything. I pull ideas from tumblr pages and who knows where. Writing has become a whim, a crutch, a go-to de-stressing activity, and I know that I am a better person because of this blog.
Now for some rumination of my own:
Keeping a blog is strange. I don’t check my stats (which indicate how many hits this site gets per day) super often, but somehow over 365 days, I’ve accumulated 404 followers. THAT’S LIKE 1 PERSON A DAY, DONTCHA KNOW? I don’t know who they are or if they know me personally, but it’s super strange to know that my posts show up in the feeds of over 400 people.
I find that the feedback I get is invaluable. People from all over the internet comment and give me advice about how to improve my blog. A couple of months ago, I shut down my blog for a few days to reformat the site. Does anyone remember novice me, with the purple background and lack of pictures? Now, we’ve got a sleek, black new background, with pretty pictures to lure readers. The picture becomes the focal point; it draws people in.
Honestly though, the greatest part about this blog is not that random people in my life find out about it and somehow read through all of my posts, but it’s that I can read back through them myself.
Coming back to the name of this blog, the central theme that pretty much every post revolves around: Never Stationary!
Every post is reminiscent of a different time in my life. Every day is a different attitude, with a different voice, and no matter what the post, some aspect of that day is reflected through the words. Reading back on a dark day, I can scrunch my nose and smirk at how I thought my life was a mess at the time, and see how I eventually got over it. That way, when it seems like everything that can possibly go wrong is going wrong, I’ll be able to calm myself down.
Oh, I don’t know, readers. This blog is such a central part of my life, yet it’s also allowed me to branch out in ways that I never would have imagined. Who knew that I’d also join my school’s newspaper and become a music columnist? Who knew that I would have encouraged my friends to also start blogs for themselves? I can think of four instances where people have seen my blog and decided to create one too. My own sister decided to follow suit. She kept it up for months; I am so proud of her.
Of course, those that like writing for the purpose of writing should not just blog. I love this website to death, and I am absolutely content with my work on here, but I am the way I am today also because I write privately. These private journals are nothing like this site; they are ranty, they are irrational, and they are incoherent. They are angsty, they are emotional, and they are more than 50% of the time in all caps. I would not be able to post a fraction of those entries on this site. One issue that constantly plagues me is whether or not I should be posting more personal entries. Ought I to mention names? Should I write about my friends, the way that I used to? (This Kid I Know, anyone?) I have continually felt conflicted because it causes controversy in my life, do you know? People get upset and constantly misperceive my intentions. But the thing is…I don’t really care anymore. Obviously I don’t want people to think badly or take away the wrong idea when they read my posts, but I don’t want to let that sort of fear limit me and what I write here. I don’t want to write timidly in fear for what could happen, because then I create arbitrary and self-defeating barriers. That’s the opposite of what I want this to be. So, that concept shall stay in the back of my mind as I post from now on.
If you’ve not closed out of the window at this point, congratulations on getting this far!
Thank you for reading :) – Catherine
In your English class, you’re motivated by grades. There, it is essential to present a perfect canvas, concealing grammar errors and run-on sentences.
“Perfecting the personal essay is an art.”
Butt free writing constitutes a form of art in and of itself; I see nothing wrong with its public display. Spelling errors and skips in logic are flaws that serve a purpose in writing: they demonstrate authenticity.
If your goal with writing is raw emotion, there’s no reason to write your heart out and then cut all of the juicy portions away. Unless you’ve got a target audience, we shouldn’t try to restrict what is worth saying. Here on the internet, with a blog like mine, there are no academic or creative restraints. We primarily pursue innovation.
Accepting flaws is something that we should all attempt; there comes a time when your heart is saran-wrapped and perfectly packaged, but at the same time suffocating and refusing to be concealed. If our hearts are inherently scarred, a bit cracked, and fragile, why do we need to hide that?
It’s the same concept as consistently presenting yourself in a dress suit. Why not sweats? Why not ditch the earrings and pull on some fugly Ugg booties?
Or maybe I’m just being lazy today.
I won’t bother speaking about the color of her eyes, as they are irrelevant. I won’t bore you with the typical blue oceans or pools of chocolate brown, as she can’t control her eye color. I won’t bother telling you how her eyelashes are unnaturally long, or how they bat and flutter little Eskimo kisses. No, I won’t enlighten you with any of that.
Her eyes widen when you speak to her. She can look you at you straight, without breaking eye contact for over eleven seconds, as most lawyers do with their jury to establish a personal connection. Some people let their guard down in the first few moments, but quickly resume passiveness as they fight the insecurities and vulnerabilities inherent in human nature.
When she’s struggling to find the perfect word, she’ll look up and slightly to the right, sifting through her brain. When she’s skeptical, she’ll grimace with the right cheek, and there will be a crease in the eyelid as it scrunches up with incredulity.
She doesn’t like to look down when she talks with people, and she despises looking away from them as they walk towards her in the street. She hates the way people turn their faces into masks, devoid of emotion. She hates how some are utterly unable to maintain eye contact, as if the glare were so intense it burned their retinas.
She is the literal embodiment of the sun, and it’s pretty clear once you look into her endless eyes.
Rumspringa: a period of adolescence during which a youth temporarily leaves the community to experience life in the outside world.
He was a little different.
If people were different platters at a buffet table,
He would be the plain pastry near the edge,
With doily underneath, looking frilly and fancy.