Post by aundrea gabrielle cannes on Aug 14, 2009 14:43:53 GMT -5
*as far as I'm concerned, you're
just another picture to burn!
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Aundrea had never been one to just sit around and do nothing, so when her last creative writing class let out and she had free time, the last place she expected to find herself was back at her cabin, especially considering the sun was still out and shining brightly. Still, however she'd promised herself that eventually she would clean her half of the large couselor's cabin that was currently covered with many of her things including her jewelry, clothes, and toiletries. Drea collected item after item, placing it in its proper bag or case, smiling at the progress she was making, but inside cursing herself for creating such a huge mess that would take a while to clean. That was valuable time that she could use to swim or go walking along the trails or maybe even do some writing. During class, she spent so much time helping the campers that she never really got a chance to work on any of her own stuff. It was one of the few things about camp that bothered her, but it was just a small price to pay to be able to escape her father and his new wife and surround herself with so many talented musicians. Aundrea would just have to find a way to get some songs accomplished before she went home.
About an hour later when Aundrea could at least see the floor, she fell back onto her bed, letting her tired body rest. Who would've known that simply folding and hanging clothes for a while could be so tiring. It was probably because she had so many clothes to deal with. Still, despite how tired she was Aundrea wasn't going to stay cooped up all day in her cabin. She reached for her notebook, smiling as a new chord played in her head. She just needed to change clothes then find somewhere quiet to get some writing done. Her current t-shirt and jeans were great for being in the many air-conditioned buildings, but for the outdoors it was probably not so smart. With clinging skinny jeans and an a equally clingy t-shirt, Aundrea was asking for something bad to happen. She settled for a pair of demin shorts and a loose white top, one of her favorites. Once her black converse were laced up and tied tightly just the way she liked them and her curly hair pulled back mostly with her bangs still freely flowing in her face, Aundrea grabbed her cabin keys and walked out. Locking the door behind her, she set off for a location to think.
Drea absolutely loved the camp grounds because there was a variety of different places to go in order to escape. She didn't want to be too far out so that she felt completely seperated from everyone else, but she needed some serenity and peace if she planned on getting anything accomplished. She'd only been walking for a few minutes when she came across the pavillion, the small area with picnic tables. It was good enough for her and she was tired of walking so she settled herself on one of the tables, kicking her feet freely as they dangled over the edge. She tapped her pink feather pen against her bottom lip, trying to come up with a concept to go along with the melody in her head. Aundrea started humming along, hoping that getting the sound out of her head would help with the writing process. It wasn't helping, but she was having a good time and since she was alone why not let go? No one was around to see her beating randomly and occasionally shaking her curly hair when the music in her head picked up in tempo.
Pretty soon after she'd started humming, Drea found herself patting her legs to the beat and the table beside her as if they were the drum part. In a matter of a few minutes, Drea had become a one person band. She hoped none of the campers or fellow counselors walked by to break her concentration or think she was crazy. She wasn't typically one to care what others thought, but she knew her random beating on the table and humming would probably make her seem a little bit crazy. It was no secret that she probably wasn't the most sane people at Camp White Orchard, but if she was going to be perceived as crazy she didn't want it to be because of the way she came about writing her songs. She really wished she'd brought her guitar with her, but she would have to make due with what she had. Drea couldn't help but smile as the song came to an end and she finally stopped beating. Even though it was still without lyrics, she had most of the music itself down. She would just have to remember it until she could get back to her cabin and write it down.
tagged:demi with zachery
note: short, sorry
outfit:at the top
word count: eight-hundred twenty-three
lyrics:taylor swift
