Bratty And Chatty

Not Only Young But Also Fun. English Major at The University of British Columbia in need of an outlet for her unfinished written work and just for fun writing! Hope you enjoy reading it as I enjoyed writing it! Please send me a message with any impressions, notes, or interest in collaboration.

[brattyandchatty-blog]

I Want To Write

I want to write. But not just anything. I want to write the words I want to hear. The kind that makes someone feel something. Something that will speak to someone and show them exactly what they’ve been trying to say. Some sort of document or paper or book that states exactly what I wish someone like me could happen upon and find all the meanings they’ve been looking for. I want to write something that will make people sigh and say things like “that’s literally me” or “thank god someone gets it.” I want it to relate one heart to another heart, change someone for the better, or make them feel included and welcomed for being who they are. That is what I want to do in this life: write something that means something to someone. Not in its wonder or technique, or displays of my talent, but in the simple relatability of it’s being. Mind to mind. Spirit to spirit. The exact account of how I feel and the jumble or beauty and tragedy of life and how we go through it. That is what I would like to write, but I can’t. 

I’ve tried so many times. I have started and stopped and started again. I have one million failed introductions and middle bits that I hope to fit along somewhere. Some of them portray me as a great, scholarly writer with perfectly constructed sentences and intellectual argument, and others where I just throw words on paper and try to make sense of them. But nothing seems to work! I can’t seem to find what I am so desperately trying to produce. Maybe that's the point of it all, maybe I am not supposed to write it. If someone could've said what we’ve all been dying to wouldn't they have already? 

[brynwrites]

Writer Follow Train!

I’d like to follow a few more writers on tumblr since my dash is chilling out.

Since I imagine there are other people out there with the same desire, instead of listing specific criteria that might be different for others seeking new writer mutuals, if you’re interested in this please reblog with these things:

1. A random non-writing related fact about you.

2. Your age bracket. (Or at least note whether you’re an adult or a teen.)

3. Your favorite genres to write.

4. The name of your current wip and a link to the page or a post describing it. (If you have more than one wip, mention the others at the end of the reblog. If you don’t have a page or post yet, you can always slap a quick blurb into a post or link to the place the page will be soon!)

5. How far into the outlining, writing, revising, or publishing process you are.

6. A link to a recent wip related post you’d like others to see.

7. Optional: A picture you associate with your wip (the setting, the MC, etc. You can explain why you chose the picture or leave that up to the reader’s imagination.)

I’ll reblog with my own answers for a reference!

Note: Don’t wait and hope other writers notice you. If you reblog this, go look for a couple other writers to follow, and then comment on their wip related things. Be brave! We’re all dorks and nerds here anyways ;)

[brattyandchatty-blog]

1. I have a background in dance and theatre

2. Im 21! so #adulting

3. I love romance and YA! hoping to move into fantasy once I get a really good idea

4. My current WIP is my online series “Better Than Planned” Its a piece I started in high school and have finally gotten around to revising it and recognizing it’s potential. I am posting it on tumblr and you can find the first instalment here: https://brattyandchatty.tumblr.com/post/186222821620/better-than-planned-pt-1

5. I am doing it piece by piece until I get bored of it! Plan is I have no plan, something I’m trying to get over my over stressing and planning 

6. https://brattyandchatty.tumblr.com/post/186169538280/got-any-grapes is a post I would love to elaborate on or inspire another work! 

[brattyandchatty-blog]

Better Than Planned pt. 1

Conventions of the Cafeteria 

As a true teenage girl filled with true teenage angst, Daniella’s wardrobe consisted of various shades of her favourite colour: black. From her sweaters to her sneakers, there was not a speck of another colour in her dresser or closet. But this did not keep Daniella from having clothes every girl would desire. She knew what was trendy and she experimented with fabric and pattern. The last thing Daniella wanted was to blend in. Black was her staple, her character. Some even said that her blood ran black through her veins. 

Daniella was a wonder in heels. Not only did she glide through school in the trendiest clothes, she spoke to no one. Hair always done, makeup professional, she stole the attention no matter where she was without one word escaping her lips. No one knew where she came from; she showed up on the first day of the tenth grade with her a perfect sneer on her face, long blonde curls pulled back, and the reddest lips you’ve ever seen. Gossip spread through the school like wildfire. Was she a diplomat’s daughter being punished with public school after a crazy summer in Rio? Some guessed she dressed in all black to mourn her recently deceased parents while she lived off of her trust fund. Some theories were insane; an ageless vampire, a model in witness protection, a government spy.  Some girls followed her home once, desperate for something they could tell everyone at school, and were shocked by how incredibly normal her home seemed. Yes, she lived in the most expensive part of town, but it wasn’t dismal or overly extravagant. It was a warm, beautiful home with flowers in the garden and a doormat. A puppy sat in one of the windows, there was no wrought iron fence to keep out guests, and her mother even greeted her at the door. Two years had passed and still no one knew much more about her.

There were very few attempts made to contact Daniella herself for information. The strange thing about Daniella was that she cast such a strong aura of “don’t talk to me” that no one ever really did. Even the kids who made it their business to get in people’s faces stayed out of her way. Yes curiosity got the best of some, and they were met with very flat answers; never a smile, never an insult, she simply answered the questions however she wanted and made it very clear that they wouldn’t be getting anywhere. It wasn’t like she was silent in her classes either, she answered questions whenever there was a participation credit, and contributed to group projects, but that was always where it stopped. Looking at her, you would immediately understand. Whatever world Daniella belonged to was flawless, interesting, and nothing like Wallace Road Secondary. She was surrounded by idiots, and she clearly knew better than to waste her time on any of them, until I got there.

It was the first day of the twelfth grade, which should probably be the most exciting first day of one’s high school career. Although, it really wasn’t for me. I was starting a new school and while everyone else was chatting away about their fantastic summers, I was making sure I didn’t get stuck next to the kid who smelled like bubble gum vape and B.O. for the next semester. At my old school, I was the friendly girl. I dressed in pastels and I never missed out on an opportunity to crack a good joke. At Wallace, I had every intention of remaining that girl as I sat in home room. I got there early so that I could pick out a good seat. If I were still in the 8th grade I would’ve showed up at the last second so that no one thought I was too eager, but the beauty of the 12th grade is that you finally realize that people really don’t care. My new classmates filed in behind me and I tried to casually assess them. Who should I approach to try and become friends with? 

It’s amazing how you can walk into any school and pick out which group everyone belongs to within seconds. The artsy girls walk in in oranges and denim with larger frames on their glasses and some sort of fringe variation cut into their hair. I’ve always wondered if it was a requirement to own at least one pair of pointed shoes to be able to sit with them at lunch, but it would probably be rude to ask. Then come the smart kids, the geeks, the future employers, all dressed for the private school they want not the public school they’ve got. Then the inbetweeners, the slackers, the stoners, and the shy kids, all of them entering at different moments between too early and right on time (except for the stoners who are often late on the first day). And finally we have the group I will certainly fall into; the well-polished, on time but not rushed, army of pretty overachievers. Yes, we will annoy you when we ask you to vote for us in our run for class president, and yes your mother will love us.

Two tall, freshly tanned girls sat to the left of me. To let them know I’m approachable, I pushed my hair off of my left shoulder and flashed them a smile. They grinned back and I was able to get a good look at them. The first girl had her hair straightened and her plum dress reminded me of the yellow dress I have on. Very simple and flattering but gives the allusion of a careless beauty. It’s always a sign when that two people are meant to be friends when they have similar styles. 

“Hello,” said plum dress’s friend, clearly the more confident of the two, “I’m Grace Kim and this is Sheila,” As she said this she gestured to Sheila with a wave of her hand. Grace’s dark hair fell past her shoulders in waves and her smile was bright.

“No last name, Sheila?” I joked, I could already tell that I’d be sitting with them at lunch, “I’m Penelope Johnson, but I’ve always gone by Penny. I just moved here from the East, sucks that it’s my last year, but the winters won’t be as rough.” 

“Sheila Shevchenko, Grace probably can’t say it,” laughed Sheila, I could tell she practiced that laugh. No one laughed that pretty. Still, I respected it, I respect anyone who puts that much effort into their perfect self. 

“Where are you from back east?” inquired Grace, “New York? Quebec? Newfoundland?” 

“Toronto,” I said with a shrug, I knew she knew I was from Toronto, I was far too kind to be a New Yorker, I didn’t have a French Canadian accent, and no one actually lives in Newfoundland! Still, she was doing a very good job at seeming interested in finding out about me, so I continued on, “Yeah, grew up in the ‘burbs, not that different from here, but I’ll get way less use out of my parkas this winter.”

“Have you ever been to Victoria before? Like was your first day here the first time you’ve seen the island? In BC?” Grace said this like she found it unbelievable, to be quite honest I didn’t know much about Vancouver Island before my family packed up and left, but I didn’t want to sound snobby.

“No, I visited Vancouver during the Olympics, but we never had time to see the Victoria, I can’t wait to go exploring on my own sometime, so far everything’s been super beautiful,” Maybe I had lain the praise on a little too thick, but I could’ve said anything and Grace wouldn’t have noticed. As I spoke, a tall blonde girl walked in. She wore dark eyeshadow and a long, black dress. It was one of those new, trendy low back strappy dresses that everyone wanted for the summer. When she walked in, everyone stopped speaking and waited for her to choose her seat. There was no denying that she was beautiful, but I wasn’t quite sure that her entrance should’ve left everyone at a loss for words. Clearly it was her first day too, leaving me very disappointed. 

How was I supposed to be the new cute girl with a model in my homeroom? There was only one seat left, the seat to my right. I had hoped to steal attention today, make some kind of a splash, but now I felt like I missed the memo. I felt like a fool in my simple dress. Never the less, a new opportunity presented itself to me. We could be a power duo! What’s second best to being the most talked about girl in school? Being her best friend. 

So, I tossed my hair off of my right shoulder, and turned toward my new pal. To my surprise, she didn’t even glance my way. Instead I felt very strongly that it would be a bad idea to introduce myself. We clearly formally belonged to the same kind of circles; this girl was fashionable, pouty, and you just knew she was important without her saying a word. I could not give up on my attempt to make her acquaintance without a fight. Again, I turned my head towards my neighbour and I gave her my biggest, Academy Award winning smile. Again, she did not seem to care. 

“Hi, I’m Penny,” I tried anyway, if she ignored me now I had Sheila and Grace as witnesses and you just know they’d whisper about her rudeness to anyone who would listen. 

“Are you new?” said the girl, holding intense eye contact with me as she awaited my answer. I was very intimidated, but determined not to let it show, I held her gaze. From the silence around me I knew the whole class was listening. Grace and Sheila may not have even been breathing. 

“Yes,” I answered as quickly as I could, “I just moved here from-”

“Toronto,” she cut me off, “Yeah, I can tell from your voice. I’m Daniella.” And with that she turned and faced the front, making it very clear to me that introductions were over. Confused as hell, I turned to Grace and Sheila, but I was met with two sets of wide eyes. I could now see that Daniella was clearly not a new student, but I had no idea who she was beyond that. Before I had time start up a new conversation with them, our teacher entered the room and class began.

* * *

I was right about Grace and Sheila asking me to lunch. After homeroom I discovered that I not only had one but two other classes with Daniella. In those classes, she made a point of sitting as far from me as possible. Being the calculated, careful person I was, I ran through our conversation over and over again in my head, trying to find what it was that I said wrong. The only conclusion I could come to was that she thought she was too good to speak to me, which is very disappointing on your first day. Maybe it’s uncool for new students to introduce themselves to every person they can on their first day; clearly this town was very different than the one I was used to. 

Some things remained the same no matter where you were; I was not surprised when Grace and Sheila lead me to the cafeteria. In the Cafeteria I was greeted by 4 more Graces and Sheilas. Cathy, Jenna, Alice, and Avneet eagerly slid to allow room for us in their table. I was flooded by questions about Toronto, music, and my plans for the future. Finally, things I was prepared for started happening. These girls were trying to figure out if they wanted to be friends with me just as much as I was trying to figure out if I wanted them as friends. 

“Did you have a boyfriend in Toronto,” said Jenna, I could tell she was the gossiper of the group. The way she leaned in and looked at me quizzically hinted that she was looking for something worth telling people about me.

“Not when I moved,” I replied, a simple no would’ve answered her question perfectly fine, but then I totally would’ve lost my edge. Now I’ve left and opportunity for speculation. “Do any of you have boyfriends?”

Immediately the girls started laughing and poking Grace. Being outside of  the joke was very tough. All these girls were so comfortable with each other and friendly that they didn’t even need to speak to laugh with one another! 

“No, we don’t” shouted Grace, excitedly, “I mean, I have been talking to a guy this summer, but it’s no big deal.”

Grace continued to smile at her friends and pretend to be embarrassed that they had given her secret away. We all could tell she was excited about it. The problem with high school girls is that they put too much emphasis on girls who have boyfriends. It is ridiculous because any girl with a boyfriend becomes way more popular, when those girls can be just as great on their own. Either way, even I wanted to hear about Grace’s bae; I was all about independent women, but I was also a sucker for romance. Before I could ask however, the conversation moved on.

“So, I heard you spoke to the queen this morning,” said Jenna, leading the conversation away from Grace.

“Sheila?” I guessed, even though I knew she meant Daniella. Finally, some answers about the girl that silences everyone. 

“No, Daniella,” said Jenna, then she narrowed her eyes at me, “I heard she actually introduced herself.” 

“Yeah,” I said, glancing sideways at Sheila and Grace, “Okay, so what’s the big deal? Who is she?” Suddenly, I felt nervous. Did I really mess up so badly by saying hello? I cracked a nervous smile and considered burying my face in my lunch. 

“Well…” Avneet hesitated, “no one knows. She just showed up one day like two years ago, and no one learned anything more about her. She’s never had a friend, not that she’d have any trouble finding one, and she’s never been involved with anything-”

“That’s not true!” interrupted Jenna, “Maryanne dances with her in the ballet. She’s the only one allowed to wear black tights and ballet slippers to class.” 

“Right,” agreed Avneet, “anyway, since she’s been here, all anyone’s wanted to know is who she is. I’m sure there’s a lot of kids at this school with no friends, but none of them look like her.” 

All the girls nodded in agreement. I was left more confused after the explanation. Two years have passed and still nothing? That means she had no online profile, no plans on the weekends, and uninvolved parents. My mother could find out more gossip than anyone I know while volunteering with the PAC. Either this girl’s mom has never worked a garage sale or it is very different here than at my old school. There were no secrets where I was from. Everyone knew everyone. As much as I wanted to ignore Daniella and make my own name in this school, I knew I wouldn’t be able to shake this curiosity. And so, I revisited my previous plan; I was going to become best friends with the most talked about girl in school. 

[brattyandchatty-blog]

Got Any Grapes?

“All they had was lemonade

All I wanted was grapes”

There was a song. There was a song about a duck. There was a song about a duck and a lemonade stand that went viral sometime in my youth. I listened to it once or twice, remembered seeing there was a part two and three. I laughed at that little duck, sung its tune in my head once or twice. I might have told a friend about it, encouraged them to watch the silly little videos, but that was it. I forgot about it eventually, much like most of the popular content online, it was popular until the next video came along and we all watched that and told our friends about it and it was like the song about the duck never even existed. But then, years later, meme culture brought the duck back. Something along the lines of “if you remember this you’re old” or “remember when everyone was obsessed with this.”  I too had a brief moment of nostalgia, may have even cracked a slight smile for the good, old duck song. I rewatched all three parts, and started to favourite tweets about it, but then as per usual it was once again forgotten  quickly as it was remembered. And I too thought I would forget that little duck, that he would slip away from my thoughts once more, and I would move on to the newest dog with eyebrows, or feel old about something else. But that wasn’t the case. This time I did not forget. When the rest of the world waddle-waddled away, I all I could think about was grapes, grapes, grapes. 

I started out singing the song in my head when I took the train to work. Normally I’d play music, but when I moved home for the summer my head phones got misplaced in the still to be organized boxes and luggage. The fact that I knew they were in there kept me from buying new ones, but the trivial task of looking for them was the reason I road with my thoughts. It was fine, I could utilize this time to really think about things, find out what I really wanted. I’ve always been a thinker, which is what made me such a good philosophy student, and an annoying friends. I looked far too into things, and picked a part their motivations. I was in a constant state of wondering why people did what they did; I myself was not able to escape my query. What was the underlying purpose of my actions? What was I hoping to accomplish when I posted a photo or smiled at a stranger. Some things were easier to determine then others, or at least easier to reason. Other things wracked my brain for days or weeks until I moved on to something else. But nothing before was like the duck song. I have never encountered such an ear worm turned obsession. 

It wasn’t all so deep. It took a long time for my tweets to go from just tweeting a simple phrase, “hey! got and grapes?” to “maybe I’m the duck! I can’t stop looking for grapes in all the wrong places!” and so so many tweets alike in between. I compared the duck’s final question of “got any lemonade?” to my love life and always wanting what I can’t have. The way I like someone until they like me and then it turns out I didn’t want that at all! I referenced that Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant film when I said, “I’m just a duck standing in front of a lemonade stand, asking for some grapes.” Not even my late night depress-y tweets gained as many concerned DMs as my duck tweets. And I made many desperate, late night depress-y tweets. The duck song was taking over my whole social media presence, and really, it was taking over my life. 

It wasn’t uncommon for my twitter to experience a theme takeover. I’d overly tweet about my tragedy on the dating scene one day, or I’d even go weeks writing about how I could not stop texting my ex. I’d create graphics to further the comedy of my content, and I’d even watch them spill into my conversations with my friends. It wasn’t a secret that I would take topics and ideas and run with them until I was over it. The problem was, I wasn’t getting over it. There were days I’d be simply cleaning the kitchen and I’d turn to my sister and say, “when life gives you lemonade, ask for grapes!” almost out of no where, sometimes I was surprised I even thought of it. I’m not saying that the song was making me crazy, or that I was crazy, but there were moments when I felt a little crazy. Moments when I could not stop myself from relating the duck to all aspects of my life, which really said a lot about my life.