April 16, 2008
English IB Free Write
Final Draft
I always said that I'd never believe in high school romances.
I mean, they just plain out sounded silly. Love was, and is, such a powerful emotion – to the point where it was hard to sum it all up into a short and sweet definition. So how could people claim to fall into that deep spiral of happy endings and melancholic moments while they were still kids? Several days ago, I wouldn't be able to even begin fathoming how or why. But now… Now, I think I can relate to the lovesick a little better. Love… such a terrible illness, and far too easy to catch.
To your average adolescent, international students usually pose as more attractive beings than the everyday classmate. Last month, I would've told you that long-distance relationships rarely ever worked out, and it was useless to cling on to such hopes and dreams. I don't really know what about him caused me to abandon the ideas I'd built up over the years. It may have been his brilliant smile, his dashing good looks, or his carefree attitude… or, perhaps the most likely, his undeniable talent for music.
He had transferred into our class through his school's study abroad program, and at the time I wanted everything and nothing to do with him.
"Herro. I am Sato Takai." The boy introduced himself, and the class welcomed him with a round of warm applause.
I was impressed at how he entered the classroom with a shy grin on his face, and then easily slipped into the everyday routine of an American student. He conversed with everyone in a mix of English, general sign language, and his native tongue, Japanese. He wasn't afraid to meet people or experience the lifestyle and culture we take for granted, and I was jealous of the others that were able to fool around with him on a regular basis.
One day, on my way to meet my friend at the music room, I decided to stop at one of the practice rooms to drop off my bag. Usually, no one was up there after school, spare a few of the seniors that needed to practice for their college auditions. One was free to wander through any of the rooms in the building without having to worry about meeting up with anyone, or intruding on a lesson. The doors were somewhat soundproof, so I knocked, as basic manners insisted. There was no reply, so I turned the handle and let myself in.
"Ah! I'm sorry!" I flushed, and quickly shut the door, letting my hand rest on the handle, and tried to make sense of the situation.
It wasn't as if I had stumbled upon anything embarrassing, but… it was more surprising than anything. The room held various percussion instruments that students needed clearance to enter, so there was rarely, if ever, anyone inside. But as fate dictated, Sato was sitting at the drum set with a pair of worn sticks in his hands.
"Um… Did you need…?" He carefully pushed open the door and I shuffled a few paces back, eyes focused on the ground. "I am done now, so…" And there it was again – that warm smile, and simply sweet words.
"I…I was just going to drop my bags off," I mumbled, glancing up at him, "Sorry if I surprised you…"
Sato opened the door a little wider, and I slipped inside, letting my bags fall in an ever-so-familiar corner. There was an awkward sort of silence, and I worked up the courage to speak again.
"Do you play?" I asked, motioning towards the drum set. It was quite obvious that he did, but for conversation's sake, such questions were sometimes needed.
"Yes… Yes, I do." He glanced over at the set, with its two toms, pearl snare, and three brass cymbals, and nodded, the smile that never seemed leave his lips growing a little. "I am… ah… nandake…? Ah, drummer for my school's band."
"Would you… play something for me?" I scratched my head, and I could feel my cheeks beginning to burn. It was always difficult to ask someone to play something on the drum set, since it often felt empty without the rest of the band as back up – I knew that all too well, since I had more than once been placed in that position. But, I truly wanted to hear how he played, since music is often the easiest way to connect with a person's inner self.
"Oh… Yes. Okay." Sato gave me a thumbs up, twirled one of his sticks, and hopped over to the instrument. Once he settled himself in front of the drums, it seemed so incredibly natural. Before he even began to play, it was as if that was exactly where he belonged.
He lifted his stick as I wandered to an extra chair, and sat as he prepared himself mentally. His dark bangs covered his eyes as he took in a deep breath, slowly released it, and tapped the snare drum a few times. Which, to my amazement, was immediately followed by a blast of sound and intricate rhythmic patterns. It was a mix of bright cymbal, mellow toms, and crisp snare – and the fastest I'd ever seen someone's sticks fly across the drumheads.
With a flourish, Sato finished with a ritardando accompanied by an immense crescendo. By the end, my ears were ringing and my heart was racing and my eyes were glued on the thin boy that sat in front of me, smiling as if the feat he just performed was a completely normal happening. My words caught in my throat as he closed the hi-hat and turned to face me, his eyes questioning, yearning for a response.
"That was… That was…" I stuttered, knowing that I must've sounded like a complete fool. But after an exhilarating performance like that? It had to be natural to have vocabulary malfunctions. "Amazing… Absolutely brilliant… I… I… Wow."
"Th-thank you." He rubbed his head and nodded, and I noticed his cheeks were blushed red.
"Honestly, it was really… impressive." Smiling, I stood, and moved closer to the drum set. There were fresh dents on the heads and new scratches on the cymbals, and it was still hard to believe that he was capable of something so great. There was a pause as I tried to find other simple phrases I could use to praise him, but he stopped me and nodded.
"I am happy you liked it." His eyes sparkled as he bowed slightly, and smoothed down the back of his hair. "I haven't been able to… oh, practice a lot lately, so…" The boy chuckled and thrust his hands in his pockets.
"Well, feel free to come here and play anytime you want."
He said he would, and our conversation drifted off onto a random tangent and grew from there. In that room, I watched him smile and laugh and learned of all his experiences and classes thus far. I felt a warm emotion swell in my heart, and I knew I had fallen hard and fast for his easy-going charm.
In the end, Sato took my advice, and I started to meet him up at the music building after school, and even during a few of my breaks between classes. He would always be in that room, either sitting around doing homework, fiddling with the various percussion instruments, or pounding away on the drums. It was always easy to tell when he was inside, since life seemed to fill the rhythms and patterns, and things that ought to have been ridiculously complex sounded so sweet and clean. Whenever there was a break in the sound, I'd let myself into the room and watch him play, or help him with his papers. The room was always filled with laughter or music, and time always seemed to speed straight past us.
Eventually, days turned into weeks, which turned into months, which brought end to the third quarter. Though I desperately tried to ignore it, the truth was impossible to run from… Soon, Sato would be back in Japan, and I could only hope to see him again. The realization that he'd soon return home began to dawn on him as well. His end of the conversations had started to vary more than usual. He either completely dominated our discussions, or he said nothing at all, and simply smiled and laughed.
The two of us were in the practice room, sitting on the floor, trading notes, and laughing at the weirdest things. Our paper and textbooks littered the ground as we studied for our final exams, which were due in a few weeks. He twirled his pencil and I flipped through books, our brains beginning to feel fatigued and sleepy. Then, in unison, we both fell onto our backs, too tired to process equations and definitions. He laughed and I rolled over to him, and we stared at the ceiling, inspecting the dots in the tiles. We simply remained as we were, and it was the first time in a long while the room was silent and still. The seconds ticked away, and my vision began to blur as my consciousness faded in and out.
When I came to, Sato's cheek was brushed up against the top of my head, and our hands were entwined, and I could see the slow rise and fall of his chest as he continued to doze. I could feel my ears begin to burn as the scene worked itself out in my head, and began to hope that no one had entered while we were asleep. It wasn't as if anything had happened – I wasn't a deep sleeper, and he wasn't that kind of boy. But it would be easy for a random passerby to mistake an innocent situation for something it most definitely wasn't.
After a minute of fretting, I took a deep breath and cleared my mind, banishing my overactive imagination into a faraway corner. A soft smile tugged at the corners of my lips and I snuggled closer to him, letting my forehead rest on his shoulder. I could feel him stir, and watched him as he woke, giggling as his face turned a bright pink before he let out a small laugh and gripped my hand a little tighter.
Sato kissed my forehead, then brushed his lips against mine, and suddenly the world came to a halt. I couldn't help but let out an embarrassed chuckle as he pulled away, and I knew both of us were searching for a way to scale the language barrier in order to say exactly what it was that we felt. We held one another's gaze for a moment before he whispered softly in my ear, his breath tickling my skin.
"Thank you for the memories.
And I think…
I've fallen in love with you."
Whenever I write a story, the characters and events that take place all need to be things that I can easily familiarize with. That's why if one were to go through my old documents, while there may be a touch of the supernatural here and there, all of the tales my words tell somehow reflect the trials of adolescence. With that in mind, it was hard for me to put this story onto paper. I was totally thrilled to finally have a free-write assignment, but as soon as I sat down to form my thoughts into coherent sentences, the plot didn't end up flowing as well as I had originally intended.
One of the comments I received from my peers suggested that I add in another moment between the two protagonists (Sato and, though her name is never mentioned, Lili), but after re-reading my paper I decided against it. As many writers have done in the past, and as both stable architectural shapes and forms of power prove, an object is most stable when supported by three sides. In this, there are three moments – the first glance, the initial meeting, and the realization. Between the latter two, I mentioned that Lili and Sato simply spent their days in the practice room, goofing off and enjoying life. And, in my mind, that's exactly what happened – nothing more, nothing less. They spent their afternoons as good friends would: studying, practicing, and chatting with one another. There were no "cute" moments until the very end… No epiphanies or inconsistencies in their daily routines until the school year came to a close.
As far as style goes, there were a handful of things that I had chosen to use. The most obvious being that I never once named the narrator, and never described how either of them looked. All I did was set the scene in that practice room, and chose to leave the rest of the mental illustration to the reader. Since it's a tale of an innocent teenage crush, most of the readers should easily be able to relate to it. That being the case, I didn't want to bind them down with the two characters' physical appearances.
English IB Free Write
Final Draft
Falling for the First Time
A fictional short story
A fictional short story
I always said that I'd never believe in high school romances.
I mean, they just plain out sounded silly. Love was, and is, such a powerful emotion – to the point where it was hard to sum it all up into a short and sweet definition. So how could people claim to fall into that deep spiral of happy endings and melancholic moments while they were still kids? Several days ago, I wouldn't be able to even begin fathoming how or why. But now… Now, I think I can relate to the lovesick a little better. Love… such a terrible illness, and far too easy to catch.
To your average adolescent, international students usually pose as more attractive beings than the everyday classmate. Last month, I would've told you that long-distance relationships rarely ever worked out, and it was useless to cling on to such hopes and dreams. I don't really know what about him caused me to abandon the ideas I'd built up over the years. It may have been his brilliant smile, his dashing good looks, or his carefree attitude… or, perhaps the most likely, his undeniable talent for music.
He had transferred into our class through his school's study abroad program, and at the time I wanted everything and nothing to do with him.
"Herro. I am Sato Takai." The boy introduced himself, and the class welcomed him with a round of warm applause.
I was impressed at how he entered the classroom with a shy grin on his face, and then easily slipped into the everyday routine of an American student. He conversed with everyone in a mix of English, general sign language, and his native tongue, Japanese. He wasn't afraid to meet people or experience the lifestyle and culture we take for granted, and I was jealous of the others that were able to fool around with him on a regular basis.
One day, on my way to meet my friend at the music room, I decided to stop at one of the practice rooms to drop off my bag. Usually, no one was up there after school, spare a few of the seniors that needed to practice for their college auditions. One was free to wander through any of the rooms in the building without having to worry about meeting up with anyone, or intruding on a lesson. The doors were somewhat soundproof, so I knocked, as basic manners insisted. There was no reply, so I turned the handle and let myself in.
"Ah! I'm sorry!" I flushed, and quickly shut the door, letting my hand rest on the handle, and tried to make sense of the situation.
It wasn't as if I had stumbled upon anything embarrassing, but… it was more surprising than anything. The room held various percussion instruments that students needed clearance to enter, so there was rarely, if ever, anyone inside. But as fate dictated, Sato was sitting at the drum set with a pair of worn sticks in his hands.
"Um… Did you need…?" He carefully pushed open the door and I shuffled a few paces back, eyes focused on the ground. "I am done now, so…" And there it was again – that warm smile, and simply sweet words.
"I…I was just going to drop my bags off," I mumbled, glancing up at him, "Sorry if I surprised you…"
Sato opened the door a little wider, and I slipped inside, letting my bags fall in an ever-so-familiar corner. There was an awkward sort of silence, and I worked up the courage to speak again.
"Do you play?" I asked, motioning towards the drum set. It was quite obvious that he did, but for conversation's sake, such questions were sometimes needed.
"Yes… Yes, I do." He glanced over at the set, with its two toms, pearl snare, and three brass cymbals, and nodded, the smile that never seemed leave his lips growing a little. "I am… ah… nandake…? Ah, drummer for my school's band."
"Would you… play something for me?" I scratched my head, and I could feel my cheeks beginning to burn. It was always difficult to ask someone to play something on the drum set, since it often felt empty without the rest of the band as back up – I knew that all too well, since I had more than once been placed in that position. But, I truly wanted to hear how he played, since music is often the easiest way to connect with a person's inner self.
"Oh… Yes. Okay." Sato gave me a thumbs up, twirled one of his sticks, and hopped over to the instrument. Once he settled himself in front of the drums, it seemed so incredibly natural. Before he even began to play, it was as if that was exactly where he belonged.
He lifted his stick as I wandered to an extra chair, and sat as he prepared himself mentally. His dark bangs covered his eyes as he took in a deep breath, slowly released it, and tapped the snare drum a few times. Which, to my amazement, was immediately followed by a blast of sound and intricate rhythmic patterns. It was a mix of bright cymbal, mellow toms, and crisp snare – and the fastest I'd ever seen someone's sticks fly across the drumheads.
With a flourish, Sato finished with a ritardando accompanied by an immense crescendo. By the end, my ears were ringing and my heart was racing and my eyes were glued on the thin boy that sat in front of me, smiling as if the feat he just performed was a completely normal happening. My words caught in my throat as he closed the hi-hat and turned to face me, his eyes questioning, yearning for a response.
"That was… That was…" I stuttered, knowing that I must've sounded like a complete fool. But after an exhilarating performance like that? It had to be natural to have vocabulary malfunctions. "Amazing… Absolutely brilliant… I… I… Wow."
"Th-thank you." He rubbed his head and nodded, and I noticed his cheeks were blushed red.
"Honestly, it was really… impressive." Smiling, I stood, and moved closer to the drum set. There were fresh dents on the heads and new scratches on the cymbals, and it was still hard to believe that he was capable of something so great. There was a pause as I tried to find other simple phrases I could use to praise him, but he stopped me and nodded.
"I am happy you liked it." His eyes sparkled as he bowed slightly, and smoothed down the back of his hair. "I haven't been able to… oh, practice a lot lately, so…" The boy chuckled and thrust his hands in his pockets.
"Well, feel free to come here and play anytime you want."
He said he would, and our conversation drifted off onto a random tangent and grew from there. In that room, I watched him smile and laugh and learned of all his experiences and classes thus far. I felt a warm emotion swell in my heart, and I knew I had fallen hard and fast for his easy-going charm.
In the end, Sato took my advice, and I started to meet him up at the music building after school, and even during a few of my breaks between classes. He would always be in that room, either sitting around doing homework, fiddling with the various percussion instruments, or pounding away on the drums. It was always easy to tell when he was inside, since life seemed to fill the rhythms and patterns, and things that ought to have been ridiculously complex sounded so sweet and clean. Whenever there was a break in the sound, I'd let myself into the room and watch him play, or help him with his papers. The room was always filled with laughter or music, and time always seemed to speed straight past us.
Eventually, days turned into weeks, which turned into months, which brought end to the third quarter. Though I desperately tried to ignore it, the truth was impossible to run from… Soon, Sato would be back in Japan, and I could only hope to see him again. The realization that he'd soon return home began to dawn on him as well. His end of the conversations had started to vary more than usual. He either completely dominated our discussions, or he said nothing at all, and simply smiled and laughed.
The two of us were in the practice room, sitting on the floor, trading notes, and laughing at the weirdest things. Our paper and textbooks littered the ground as we studied for our final exams, which were due in a few weeks. He twirled his pencil and I flipped through books, our brains beginning to feel fatigued and sleepy. Then, in unison, we both fell onto our backs, too tired to process equations and definitions. He laughed and I rolled over to him, and we stared at the ceiling, inspecting the dots in the tiles. We simply remained as we were, and it was the first time in a long while the room was silent and still. The seconds ticked away, and my vision began to blur as my consciousness faded in and out.
When I came to, Sato's cheek was brushed up against the top of my head, and our hands were entwined, and I could see the slow rise and fall of his chest as he continued to doze. I could feel my ears begin to burn as the scene worked itself out in my head, and began to hope that no one had entered while we were asleep. It wasn't as if anything had happened – I wasn't a deep sleeper, and he wasn't that kind of boy. But it would be easy for a random passerby to mistake an innocent situation for something it most definitely wasn't.
After a minute of fretting, I took a deep breath and cleared my mind, banishing my overactive imagination into a faraway corner. A soft smile tugged at the corners of my lips and I snuggled closer to him, letting my forehead rest on his shoulder. I could feel him stir, and watched him as he woke, giggling as his face turned a bright pink before he let out a small laugh and gripped my hand a little tighter.
Sato kissed my forehead, then brushed his lips against mine, and suddenly the world came to a halt. I couldn't help but let out an embarrassed chuckle as he pulled away, and I knew both of us were searching for a way to scale the language barrier in order to say exactly what it was that we felt. We held one another's gaze for a moment before he whispered softly in my ear, his breath tickling my skin.
"Thank you for the memories.
And I think…
I've fallen in love with you."
~~~
Falling For The First Time: Reflection
My Reasoning Behind My Words
My Reasoning Behind My Words
Whenever I write a story, the characters and events that take place all need to be things that I can easily familiarize with. That's why if one were to go through my old documents, while there may be a touch of the supernatural here and there, all of the tales my words tell somehow reflect the trials of adolescence. With that in mind, it was hard for me to put this story onto paper. I was totally thrilled to finally have a free-write assignment, but as soon as I sat down to form my thoughts into coherent sentences, the plot didn't end up flowing as well as I had originally intended.
One of the comments I received from my peers suggested that I add in another moment between the two protagonists (Sato and, though her name is never mentioned, Lili), but after re-reading my paper I decided against it. As many writers have done in the past, and as both stable architectural shapes and forms of power prove, an object is most stable when supported by three sides. In this, there are three moments – the first glance, the initial meeting, and the realization. Between the latter two, I mentioned that Lili and Sato simply spent their days in the practice room, goofing off and enjoying life. And, in my mind, that's exactly what happened – nothing more, nothing less. They spent their afternoons as good friends would: studying, practicing, and chatting with one another. There were no "cute" moments until the very end… No epiphanies or inconsistencies in their daily routines until the school year came to a close.
As far as style goes, there were a handful of things that I had chosen to use. The most obvious being that I never once named the narrator, and never described how either of them looked. All I did was set the scene in that practice room, and chose to leave the rest of the mental illustration to the reader. Since it's a tale of an innocent teenage crush, most of the readers should easily be able to relate to it. That being the case, I didn't want to bind them down with the two characters' physical appearances.
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