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Post by steven on Mar 13, 2009 19:14:39 GMT -5
Lately Steven had been even more scatter brained and distracted than usual, and that was definitely saying something. Sure, he was a smart guy, but he usually floated off in his little land of make believe and drawings, and so much more. He was an artist, though, so most didn't question it. His teachers, however, did. Well, not his art teachers, they all understood, but his math teachers? His science teachers? They weren't so understanding. And sure, he understood that he did kind of need to know that stuff to get through high school, but it was so boring to him! He had trouble concentrating. And it didn't help the matters that he actually had a very high IQ, because he couldn't blame the face that he had no clue what was going on in his math class on that. It was all him this time.
He walked into the library, his eyes looking like some kind of kicked puppy. He knew he was going to flunk math this year, he just knew it. He'd never get to be a Senior! They'd hold him back and make him a Junior for the rest of his life! The very idea was revolting..he wanted to be done with High School so he could go on to college and then start his real life! Not that he really needed much schooling to be an artist...but he wanted to have a good education. He wanted to be a good artist that everyone loved, he wanted his stuff up in art museums. That was why he went to this school, after all.
He walked over to a table, and set his bag down quietly, as to not make any noise. He hated when people glared at him for making even the slightest noise...like making a chair squeak or sneezing, and so he tried not to be too loud. Which was hard sometimes...even though he wasn't a very loud or outgoing person, or anything like that, not in the least. But he liked to crack his knuckles loudly, or hum while doing his school work, and the library made all of that impossible with out having people look at you like they want to eat your brains out. Sadly it was also the quietest place in school, and the only place he could study without being distracted by something or another.
He reached into his bag, and took out his math book, still trying to be his quietest as he zipped it up, and placed the book down, opening to the page he knew he was going to have to study...even if everything on the page made him kind of want to bang his head against the table and scream WHY ME?!. Of course he didn't do that...he just continued studying the page, with a look of concentration on his face. He cleared his throat, without thinking, and made himself not look up to meet the angry glares that he knew where waiting for him, as he pulled out a fresh piece of paper and a pencil from his bag. Oh, how he hated math.
count: 535
lyrics; without you I'm nothing - placebo
tags; open!
outfit; click
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Post by sarahnobles on Mar 13, 2009 19:27:55 GMT -5
Amelia was probably the only person in the library who would jump up and down in joy if she heard a loud noise. If she heard anything it would be the first time in her life, because Amelia is deaf. Unfortunately not only is she deaf, but mute. It rather annoying, being unable to talk. It made conversation with the people who could hear difficult. To solve this problem at school she was forced to write every response down, unless the other person knew how to sign.
Maybe her lack of hearing was one reason she enjoyed spending time at the library. She wasn’t missing out on anything here; no one was really listening to anything. At most they talked in hushed tones. Today however she had a purpose for being in the library. The sophomore had been assigned a report comparing two different fables. So she had to pick out two fables, by different authors and then compare them. Three pages, double spaced. Amelia was not a writer, she was an artist. Hence the drawing major, not a writing major. Her English teacher didn’t seem to care, he was more worried about plagiarism. In her arms she lugged her purple notebook (her ‘speaker’ so to speak), her sketchbook (incase she needed a break from research), her English textbook and notebook. Tucked behind her hear was a pen, this particular pen only wrote in black ink, but she forgave it because it was a Spongebob pen. When she pressed down little Spongebob would light up. Yes, yes she is a fifteen year old high school student who is obsessed with Spongebob. Could you really blame her though? The yellow dude was adorable!
The brunette weaved her way through the rows of shelves and tables and took a seat at one behind another student. It wasn’t someone she knew, which was a shame. She could use an excuse not to work on her report. Putting down her bundle of books she sat down and pulled her pen from her behind her ear. Opening the notebook she wrote a heading and then stared down at the blank paper willing an idea to come to her. Fables….who wanted to read about talking animals? Well, she would, but still…
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Post by steven on Mar 13, 2009 20:28:22 GMT -5
Steven stared at the blank page for a few seconds, before glancing over at the book. It still looked so confusing! He tapped his pencil for a moment, before remembering that that annoyed a good amount of people on earth, and stopped, instead moving his pencil down to the paper. He could do this! It was algebra, for crying out loud. Freshman did this! Yes, he was a Junior, and still doing algebra. Algebra 2, but it was still algebra, and it was still supposed to be easy, was it not? He raked a hand through his straight brown hair, hair that he was very proud of even if it was kind of plain looking, and looked around the place. Everyone there seemed so intent on what they were doing...probably because they actually knew what the hell they were doing, and Steven had no clue.
He slammed his pencil down on the table, then looked around once more. He felt...unsettled, it was odd. Usually he was a very mellow guy, but at that moment all he wanted to do was scream, or something. Instead he just picked up his pencil, and started sketching on the page that was meant for his math homework. This wasn't all that weird, though, he always doodled on his pages...what was odd was the fact that the boy was taking up the whole page with his drawing. He didn't even think about what he was drawing, but a few minutes later he knew what it was when he realized he'd sketched the exact table he was sitting at. He was drawing himself standing on the table, screaming like a crazy person...the thought made him smile. But just as he was about to start on the actual self of the drawing his led snapped.
"damn..." he muttered, unzipping his bag and looking through it. just his luck; no pencil sharpener, or spare pencil. He always carried spare pencils! This was really not his day. He glanced behind him, and saw a girl. She seemed nice...maybe he could ask her for a pencil sharpener...even though he did kind of fear people. Talking to them, at is, not the people themselves. It was the talking that scared him, the thought of having to open his mouth and make words come out. Whenever he talked he somehow ended up making a fool of himself. But he really wanted to do that sketch...
He tapped the girl on the shoulder, wanting to badly to close his eyes and get it over with, but knowing that would probably just be weird... "Hey." He said, in a soft tone, biting his lip. His eyes were wide, like a small child, who saw a stranger come up to them and offer them lolli pops. "Uh...pencil sharpener. Do you have one? A pencil sharpener. For my pencil?" He held up his pencil, with the broken lead, feeling like an idiot. Why was it he couldn't ever talk to people without feeling like that? Or acting like that? Sometimes he hated himself.
count: 514
lyrics; without you I'm nothing - placebo
tags; Amelia
outfit; click
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Post by sarahnobles on Mar 14, 2009 11:01:03 GMT -5
Amelia was a doodler as well, however most of the time her doodlers required more then just the corner of her notes. A simple stick figure quickly became a detailed portrait when art took hold of her. Her math notebook had more art in it then her sketchbook, her math notes where squeezed in a few lines in between pictures of students, Spongebob, and objects in the classroom.
At the moment the sophomore had just opened her textbook and was bent over reading the small side notes beside a story about a donkey and a farmer. She sighed and laid her cheek against the book. Half-headedly she began taking notes. After about ten minuets she decided a break was in order. How could she do a report if she was half asleep? However deviating from her school work made her feel guilty. Maybe she could design a cover page? That idea was a good compromise, she could draw and do school work, well sort of. She flipped to a new page and began a rough sketch of a donkey with long ears drooping towards the ground. A pencil would make this much easier to do, but all she had was her Spongebob pen. She was at this for a good fifteen minuets before a shadow crossed her page shortly followed by a gentle tap on the shoulder. She turned out, surprised, but thankfully not startled.
Amelia was beginning to believe their where only three sophomores in the entire school. Everyone she met always looked two years old then her. This student looked like a senior, or maybe he just seemed tall because she was sitting. Then again he looked as nervous as a freshman. He was biting his lips and his expression told he was definitely not happy. She shook her head sadly side to side, no she didn’t have a pencil. It was unusual for her two, normally she had a case with her, but she had some to the library strictly to work. Of course now she was drawing. She turned back around and picked up her smaller notebook, her ‘speaker’. After scribbling quickly on it she held it out to the other student.
They might have a pencil sharpener at the reference desk?
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Post by steven on Mar 14, 2009 20:44:13 GMT -5
Steven couldn't help but look confused as she shook her head. Was she one of those people who were totally against talking in a library? Or maybe she just had an overly loud voice and was afraid to whisper? Both of those sounded kind of odd...even in a library most people whispered. It was only loud voices that weren't really welcome. He was even more confused when she started writing, and held what she had been writing on out to him. What was this? He didn't really know, but he wasn't about to ask. That would just be rude, and you could call Steven many things, most of them not so nice, but rude was certainly not one of them. He was actually a very sweet, and kind guy, even though he was probably a bit odd.
What she wrote almost made him hit himself on the forehead. Of course! How could he have not thought about that? He wanted to thank her, but he didn't really know how. Maybe she couldn't hear? Maybe she was deaf? And maybe she couldn't read lips, either? He didn't really know, but if he had a working pencil he would have probably written a response. He racked his brains for a moment. Back in Elementary school he had learned the entire alphabet in sign language...and a few little phrase type things. He could really only remember the sign for 'old', though...hmmm...he knew that he'd learned thank you. Wasn't it just touching your lips, or something like that? Didn't it something resemble blowing a kiss? He wasn't really sure, but it sounded right. He really hoped she was deaf, and new sign language, and didn't think he was some freak who blew people kisses for telling him things he probably should have known already.
And so he did exactly what he thought he remembered was the sign for 'thank you', and walked over to the reference desk, quickly seeing a mechanical pencil. Great. He had to make noise...but there was really no avoiding it. he couldn't exactly do his math in pencil...or finish his drawing. And so he ignored the glares, and sharpened his pencil so it was just pointy enough, but not so pointy it might snap again. As he walked back to his seat he saw the girl who had helped him out...he found himself wanting to know exactly why she had written her answer...he was highly interested in her. So despite the fact that it was absolutely nerve wracking he picked up his thinks, swallowed in a nervous way, and walked over to her. "Hey, mind if I sit here?" He asked, whispering, and gesturing toward the chair at the last moment, remembering that it was plausible that she couldn't hear.
count: 483
lyrics; without you I'm nothing - placebo
tags; Amelia
outfit; click
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Post by sarahnobles on Mar 14, 2009 21:47:13 GMT -5
Amelia couldn’t help but smile at his gesture. She wasn’t entire sure what it was supposed to be. Was he blowing her a kiss? Either way she took it to be something positive. He turned around and walked towards the desk. She shook her head and turned back to her doodling, woops, I mean cover page.
Amelia could read lips, it was basically the only way to survive in the hearing world. She would love to able to speak, but couldn’t, so she was forced to settle with writing which as the nervous upperclassmen discovered, was a little odd. She hated being mute more then being deaf. Especially here at Chicago where no one in the school could sign.
A hand appeared in her peripheral vision and Amelia turned around to see who was beside her. She relaxed once she realized it was just the upper classmen. She had missed his hello, but had seen the words sit here and his gesture. Nodding she pushed her books over so they where in front of her and he would have a space to work. While moving her books she hastily placed her textbook over her language arts notebook, embarrassed by her donkey. It wasn’t a bad picture, but it probably looked weird that she was drawing a random donkey suffering from depression. She appeared weird enough with her art’s help.
Judging by his face though she had no need to be embarrassed. His nervous features made her want to give the poor kid a hug. She wouldn’t bite, there was no need to be so worked up over asking to sit next to her. It wasn’t as if they had no room. In an effort to put him at easy she wrote a brief note for him, her sponebob pen lighting up as she wrote and gave him her notebook.
Im Amelia. Drawing major. You?
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Post by steven on Mar 14, 2009 22:23:10 GMT -5
Steven sat down, relaxing a little bit. The girl seemed nice...he didn't even think that she was the least bit odd, for being deaf...or seemingly deaf. He was assuming she was. But he knew he was a pretty odd guy himself, or at least most people told him...he liked to think it wasn't exactly a bad thing. Steven picked up the notebook and read it, smiling a little bit. She had a nice name, and she was a drawing major just like himself.
I'm Steven, he wrote, with his freshly sharpened pencils. drawing major, as well. You have a pretty name. he smiled at her, as he pushed the notebook towards the brunette. He felt kind of nervous..what if she wasn't even really deaf? What if she was just one of those people who refused to talk, or whatever, and he was seeming like a total idiot? How embarrassing. He kind of wanted to ask her if she was deaf, but knew that would be extremely rude.
He placed his notebook and math book down on the table, looking at his drawing. In the amount of time he had been in the library that stupid drawing was all he had got done. He ripped it out, and crumbled it up, trying to be quiet while doing so, as he threw it in his bag. He had a feeling this girl never got glared at for being loud in the library...as he thought that a smile twitched at his lips, but he wasn't going to say that. That could be considered rude by some, he was guessing. He knew he wouldn't like it much if someone made that kind of joke around him and he was deaf...actually, he wouldn't much like being deaf at all.
count: 311
notes; sorry about the shortness >.<
lyrics; without you I'm nothing - placebo
tags; Amelia
outfit; click
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Post by sarahnobles on Mar 18, 2009 17:03:40 GMT -5
There was nothing wrong with being a little odd, it’s called a characteristic. Being unique just meant Steve had a personality unlike half the student population. Amelia smiled at his note. He wasn’t the first to write back to her instead of speaking out loud. Amelia always assumed they didn’t think she knew how to lip read-which she did-, but considering they where at a library it was possible he just didn’t want to disturb anyone. She wondered if he that’s why he thought she was quiet. Well, Amelia wasn’t about to correct him. There was no need to point it out, at least not at this moment.
Hi, Steve. Woot for the drawing majors! We can take over the world lol
Her brown eyes watched him crumble up a piece a paper. The glimpse she caught was just long enough for her to realize it was a sketch, a very rough unfinished sketch. It would be too forward to ask him why he throwing it away, but she was so tempted. Amelia put her heart into her art, to throw a piece away it had to either be damaged or destroyed. Even the pieces she disliked where carefully preserved and her favorites framed and hung around her house or currently her dorm room. Of course finding space to hang art on her walls was difficult considering every piece of the wall that wasn’t blocked by furniture on her half of the dorm room had white paper covering it so she could draw on the walls. Throwing away her art was like tossing an old friend out onto the streets. Okay, maybe she is a little overdramatic, still it was a shame to see what could be an amazing work of art go to waste.
Not to be nosy, well I am being nosy, but whats wrong with your picture?
OOC: Short and crappy my bad sorry
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Post by steven on Mar 20, 2009 16:25:40 GMT -5
Steve was surprised...she was being nice to him. Not that everyone was mean to him, but a good chunk of people were. Then again, she did look very nice, but he knew that looks could be deceiving...he looked down at the notebook, snapping out of his thoughts as he realized that she was saying something...well, writing something. He kind of wondered how her voice sounded in her head...like, when he thought, the voice in his head was always her own...but what did the voice in her head sound like? Not that he was about to ask..it was an odd question, and it might have been considered rude, so he decided he'd google it later. Google solved everything.
It's just something I started drawing...but I don't want to finish it, he wrote, shrugging a bit. It was no big deal to him...he always started things, then lost interest, or thought of something better to do, or realized he'd messed up and had to start over, or realized it was a stupid idea. Sure, he loved art, but he didn't see the point in keeping something around that didn't need to be kept. It was just clutter, to him. He did have quite a few paintings and drawings up on his walls, but he didn't keep all of his art work. He gave some of it away, and he threw some of it away, and he did whatever else he could think of to do with it. In his mind not everything was meant to be saved. Plus his place was messy enough without a bunch of stray papers everywhere.
plus it was just a rough copy, I can always start a new one some other time, if I feel like it.
count: 311
lyrics; without you I'm nothing - placebo
tags; Amelia
outfit; click
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Post by sarahnobles on Mar 25, 2009 20:25:21 GMT -5
Amelia was born deaf so she has never heard how a letter is pronounced. She can't comprehend how words are more then just shapes of lips, their only images to her. Either written text or moving lips. She doesn't hear any voice in her head when she thinks, if she did she would consider herself insane that is if she even recognized it was a voice. It would be surprising if the words where recognizable as words, how would Amelia know it was just random gibbering if she has never heard the ‘oo’ in ‘u’.
If people where mean to Steve he needed to assert himself, he needed act confident. He is a person, entitled to the same rights as everyone else. No one has the right to talk down to him, its up to him to stand up for himself. Of course Amelia didn’t have that problem to often. She was friendly and confident which got her though most social situations. In grammar school she had a few bullies and enemies, but who doesn’t?
Oh, that’s sort of sad. I guess I’m just weird, I save all my art even if it isn’t finished.
Amelia wouldn’t call herself a pack rat, just….well…with papers maybe, but everything was neatly stored. It wasn’t just thrown in a box and shoved under her bed. Ah well, to each her own. Eventually her would be forced to sort through her art and get rid of some, but more then likely the ‘trash’ would just end up in the attack with her Dad’s old bowling ball from God knows when. Her best pieces would be on tour, around the world. Her own art gallery with people traveling miles just to see one of her pieces in person. This was her dream, her goal and she was going to make it happen. No matter how many pieces found their way to the attic.
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