Post numero 100 - Ask me something! (by next Monday)
So I can say I finally made it to 100 posts. But, truthfully, it doesn't feel any special. Yes. Gorillas high-fiving sharks is completely normal - right, and my name is Stefan (and it's not).
Also, I've delayed on posting because I have no idea what to say (even though a lot of things are happening that can be considered good).
I've planned out the next chapter for Year Zero and have went further on to fleshing out the future parts of the story. I've also arranged the site in a way so (I hope) it would be easier to navigate. These past few days I've also edited bits of the chapters that bothered me - and now to write, write, write!
...if it was only that easy to plop down on my chair and "write like hell." Yet, I can't, at least not so tomorrow because I'll be going somewhere with friends.
Oh. Here's something funny though. Click!
Amazing isn't it? I knew PCs were evil.
Okay, I have no idea what to write and my thoughts are scrambling around like a series of fire drills have gone off and all they can do is panic... *thinks*
So, if you like, suggest a post idea or ask questions and I'll answer them like an FAQ or interview. There's no limit to how many questions you can ask since I have very few readers (but awesome people nonetheless). Though, I suggest not asking (if you're even interested) in what will happen later on in the YZ0 story. BUT, you can ask a question directed to the characters if you like (lol) or of the other characters (in the steaming pile of FAIL Love of Fate was).
Dmitri & Alice: (simultaneously) Hey!
Authoress: (cowers) Don't worry you guys, you'll make a comeback after the world fights the demons in Russia.
Alice: But that's too far!
Authoress: Well you try and multi-task young lady between two different worlds and multiple perspectives!
Alice pouts, the authoress sighs, Dmitri watches Scrubs indifferently. Alice glares at Dmitri.
Alice: Do something won't you?
Dmitri: Eh...I don't want to. If she gets angry she might change my name.
Alice: (waving arms around wildly) So?
Dmitri: (deadpans) I was referring to you.
Alice: (smacks forehead) I was being sarcastic. Besides, she liked your name better than mine in the first place. It was bound to change sooner or later! And for your information Dmitri you -
Authoress nabs Alice, covering her mouth with her hand.
Authoress: Quiet! (looks around) You can't say that... Readers are present.
Dmitri sighs, shaking his head.
Anywho... You can ask about life, personal questions, my writing, my favorite color >.> I can trust you all to be creative! Like asking me hypothetical/abstract/conceptual questions instead and my answer will be an interpretation of said question.
If I don't get any questions that's fine (though I will be wasting this prime opportunity of a post title ---> Laelah 101 *cough* lame *cough* but it's bloody accurate (and I thought it was funny in a desperate way))
All right. I think I've had enough fun with this post. :)
Three cheers for creativity! Woo!
EDIT: 6/29/09 Fixed the 'Click!' link. >.>
Sunday Scribblings #169 - Glass eyes
Silent Hill music and creepy dolls just go hand in hand.
By day you can't see what comes out at night. The moon is our ally as the sun is yours.
Through our glass eyes we see the future. At first it is hopeful - to finally get out of this cage - and then it turns to dust. What merriment we did share diminishes throughout the night when you are dreaming of much better things.
+ + +
Oh ambitious child, take me out once in a while. Seat me upon the chair fastened by reeds and poppies. Put a clean apron round my collar and set the table to sup. A breeze would tip this artificial body over, soiling the fabrics you've carefully dressed me in. I'm sad and disappointed because I can only wait. Dirty and alone, you set your tea down and pick me up, brushing the dirt away and smoothing my hair. Oh how you love me ambitious child.
Oh ambitious child, you really love me so, don't you? Even if you've grown so high and so pretty and tall. You'll take out me once in a while won't you? I know you will and I'll wait for as long as you like. I know you're busy but I know you think fondly of me. Of course you do, I'm kept high on the shelf next to your precious books, which I guard while you're away. I know you'll come back for me.
Oh ambitious child, please change the view will you? In front of me has been a painting which I disapprove of. It's dark and gloomy and you too have changed. Oh child, bring me down. I can comfort you. But all you've done is cry angry tears and slam doors and walls. You go outside but you never take me. Child, what has happened to you?
Oh ambitious child, do you hate me? My hair hasn't been combed and my dress not properly fluffed. A filter of dirt is over my eyes and I can't see a thing. Everything is so blurry and I am so confused. I can't watch over you anymore and you never taking down that painting only proves it. Oh child, I know you're lost and your tired and angry and hurt. It's been a week since you've been here, in your room - have you abandoned us all child?
Oh ambitious child., do you know how long it's been? I can barely see you but I know it's you. Smoothing my hair and straightening my dress...did you know I fell over while you were gone? I'm sorry, but I was so sad. I'd thought you left us. Oh child, you've swept the dust away! Oh child, you still love me, I know you do. Now you've set me down again, next to all of our little things... Do you remember? We used to have so much fun... Shall we be going outside? Oh, how long it's been...
Oh ambitious child, I despise you so. You've locked us away in a tiny dark box. In this darkness all I can see is that painting on your wall. That's all I can see. And the more I see it the more my hatred grows for you. Oh child, you foolish child. You've scorned us all.
I hate you.
+ + +
Jolting upright in bed, she flicked the lamp on, the covers up to her chin.
She'd heard voices and dreamt of a figure at the end of her bed. She'd remembered it to be small, and having two shiny eyes like a cat's. The cat... It leapt up to her side, snuggling near her legs, purring. She sighed, relieved. Petting the cat's sleeping head, she motioned to turn off the lamp when she noticed that her closet was open an inch or two. Slowly getting out of bed, the cold floor sending a chill up her spine, she closed the closet only to find that it couldn't close.
She kneeled down, her hands gingerly touching the tiny plastic hand jutting out of the gap. Opening the closet door, it revealed the rest of the arm. But that was it. She took the arm and flung it in the box - barely noticing it was open. Pulling the box closer to her she found it full of all her childhood toys except for her doll. And this arm was hers.
There was a note, scrawled on the cardboard with a red crayon - it too was missing from the box. It said, the writing of a child -
She'd heard voices and dreamt of a figure at the end of her bed. She'd remembered it to be small, and having two shiny eyes like a cat's. The cat... It leapt up to her side, snuggling near her legs, purring. She sighed, relieved. Petting the cat's sleeping head, she motioned to turn off the lamp when she noticed that her closet was open an inch or two. Slowly getting out of bed, the cold floor sending a chill up her spine, she closed the closet only to find that it couldn't close.
She kneeled down, her hands gingerly touching the tiny plastic hand jutting out of the gap. Opening the closet door, it revealed the rest of the arm. But that was it. She took the arm and flung it in the box - barely noticing it was open. Pulling the box closer to her she found it full of all her childhood toys except for her doll. And this arm was hers.
There was a note, scrawled on the cardboard with a red crayon - it too was missing from the box. It said, the writing of a child -
love me. hate me. abandnon me. seek me out in the everlasting darknes -
but yuo cant save me
but yuo cant save me
She pushed the box away and closed the closet, throwing the arm to the wall, waking the cat. She couldn't sleep, can't sleep. This couldn't be real. Creak... It was her door. The cat at her feet, she opened it, peering out into the dark hallway. She didn't need the light to know what was on the wall.
Garbed in a coat, she rushed out the hallway, the cat close behind. On the wall of the living room -
Clang! The kitchen. The cat dashed from the sound, yowling. She entered the kitchen, a single pot on the floor, a hand clutching a red crayon jutting out. On the cupboard was the unfinished phrase -
love me. hate me. abandnon me. seek me out in the everlasting darknes -
but yuo cant save me
but yuo cant save me
Garbed in a coat, she rushed out the hallway, the cat close behind. On the wall of the living room -
yuo cant save me
Clang! The kitchen. The cat dashed from the sound, yowling. She entered the kitchen, a single pot on the floor, a hand clutching a red crayon jutting out. On the cupboard was the unfinished phrase -
yuo cant sav
With the lights on, she took the crayon watching the fingers unwind. She lifted the pot. In it, sprawled on the floor, was her little doll. A shard of glass and inch or so away from the body. When her hand neared it's disheveled curls the doll turned its head to face her, staring at her through one cracked glass eye - the other was unharmed in the fall.
"Oh ambitious child," it said, a tape-recorder voice, flat and monotone, "you foolish child. You scorned us all." It blinked. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you..."
It's voice continued to repeat in broken-record fashion. With the flat side of the pot up, she brought it down with all her strength. The voice faded, stopped, it's painted mouth stuck in a grin. It's eye was missing. It rolled to her feet, the iris staring up at her face. She kicked it away.
Taking a glass of water with her, she returned upstairs, unsure of what she had witnessed. Crash! The glass dropped, nicking the floor with the shards.
Over the headboard of her bed, scrawled with crayon was the word -
"Oh ambitious child," it said, a tape-recorder voice, flat and monotone, "you foolish child. You scorned us all." It blinked. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you..."
It's voice continued to repeat in broken-record fashion. With the flat side of the pot up, she brought it down with all her strength. The voice faded, stopped, it's painted mouth stuck in a grin. It's eye was missing. It rolled to her feet, the iris staring up at her face. She kicked it away.
Taking a glass of water with her, she returned upstairs, unsure of what she had witnessed. Crash! The glass dropped, nicking the floor with the shards.
Over the headboard of her bed, scrawled with crayon was the word -
giulty
My, that doll has to learn how to spell.
Secret Letters
I've been listening to The Village soundtrack for awhile now... It's actually all I've been listening to.
You would've understood me, had you waited for the day when your memory willingly returned.
Dear...Would you take to heart what I told you? What everyone told you? No. I know you better than anyone else and isn't that a little sad?
I know you'd tell me, "It's isn't sad at all. One person is enough."
Well, I confess, one person isn't enough to shoulder your burden...
Do you remember the day we met? How about the days after? The years following... I can't think of anything now - but I'm not sorry.
It started off with you telling me nothing before you opened up and told me your past -
Had I known then that what kept your heart closed was a heavy lid meant to cover up the black hole that was your heart. Had I known that everything you told me made me pity you rather than love you more as a friend. Had I known everything I know now, it might not have ended this way - might not - but this illusion you set for yourself had to end some way. Except in this ending, I won't be there in your future.
I pity you. I pity your existence. And these tears that never stop falling is a symbol of how much pity I feel for you. Yet...you take them as drops of love - while I take them as drops of shame - shame that I couldn't get you to hate me enough before I left forever.
Don't you understand?
That you carry too much of your past that it stops you from living in the present, for the future?
Do you know?
That you carry around a mask and a magic wand - seeing and making the things that only you want to see and believe?
And these clothes you wear are an illusionist's clothes. You don't exist. You don't even want to exist. I bet you've asked yourself - "Why exist when there's nothing to exist for?"
I think it's for the better that you don't follow me. Don't think of me. Don't even think to see me when I'm not there.
I will never be there because I personally made sure that I never would, ever again.
Still, even if you read this letter, you will never understand. But words say more than our speech. And this is what I've wanted to tell you -
Close off not the present and look to the sun. Live in it's light and walk where you want to walk. You can never stay in the shadows, haunted by your past regrets and burdens - they have ceased to physically exist - those hurts - the day after they healed. The only problem is that you kept them in your head - letting them take over every nerve and synapse in your body leaving you on guard 24/7. That isn't living. Yet, you walk among us all.
So look back and tell me - tell it to my cold, dead face - of the memories we shared. Tell me if they meant something. Or did you wipe them off your shield?
You forced the hand that led me to take my life. If that isn't enough for you to realize your mistakes than I don't know what else will.
I am not sorry.
For Carry on Tuesday #6.
I've got nothing to say...yes I do
First of all - a tag
Rules:
1. Link the person who tagged you.
2. Copy the image above, the rules and the questionnaire in this post.
3. Post this in one or all of your blogs.
4. Answer the four questions following these Rules.
5. Recruit at least seven (7) friends on your Blog Roll by sharing this with them.
6. Come back to BLoGGiSTa iNFo CoRNeR (PLEASE DO NOT CHANGE THIS LINK) at http://bloggistame.blogspot.com and leave the URL of your Post in order for you/your Blog to be added to the Master List.
7. Have Fun!
Questions & Your Answers:
1. The person who tagged you:
2. His/her site's title and url:
3. Date when you were tagged:
4. Persons you tagged:
1. findingmywingsinlife
2. http://findingmywingsinlife.blogspot.com/
3. 6/20/09
4. (I don't specifically like to tag people but here goes...)
Mmm Bunnies
Jehsyka
Helen
...and anyone else who'd like to do this (I tried). *head desk slam* I'd upload the gif of an angry PC user doing the head slam thing but I'm too lazy to go searching in photobucket. o_o
In other news...Father's Day was fun. We went out to eat Chinese and I took pictures (if only I could find the cord for my camera I'd upload it). Then, the day after, I cleaned my room where I ran into a sharp corner and nicked my knee. After that, the day after, my whole body was aching (and it still is, barely). And then I got to writing. Speaking of writing--->
I've been meaning to do that (b/c Mmm bunnies does those spontaneous update things on her sidebar and I don't want to mimic her but it's pretty handy instead of posting here whether I updated the story or not) but I couldn't look at the computer screen without cringing at the words I'd typed so far. Also at the playlist I was arranging in itunes (yes, I'm rambling since it's been four days since posting). *eye twitch*
And now I'm going back to working on the next chapter. It's shorter so I might be able to get it in by the end of the week (and that's me being hopeful).
So here's something awesome to end this post with: one word so little time
I love that site and if you want to stretch your writing muscles visit it and try it out (if you haven't already). There's a couple of instances this past week where one word (the site) got me writing again after stopping for awhile because something doesn't sound right.
And that's it for me. Just three more posts and it'll be 100!
one-shot spam must end
My god. It feels like a long time (okay maybe a day or two) since I posted something that's actually from me and not from my characters.
It kind of feels like an eternity because that's all I've been thinking about...stories, stories, stories, characters, characters, characters, plot, plot, plot, write, write, write...STOP. Just for a little bit. And it feels like I'm not living any life and my body is only a husk where all my other selves can move in...and the not cool part is...they don't have to pay rent becuase there isn't any.
But, since I've told Mmm Bunnies to keep writing (in several spam-like comments) then I won't stop either. :)
So here's something I wrote about an author unconsciously making a deal with the devil in order to finish her manuscript in time which I wrote just earlier in my confuzzled state (thank you Jehsyka for that awesome word - a mixture of "confused" and "puzzled") To read it click ----> the 13th hour.
Google Docs comes in really handy so hooray for Google! *claps* But, my timed break is almost over.
So, in a nutshell what I wanted to say was -
I love writing and I'll never give it up.
I love drawing. I'll never give that up too.
I love listening to video game music no matter what anyone says.
I love reading, especially the blogs of internet friends.
I love blogging.
I love blogging at nighttime (duh, it's the best time to blog).
I love how I sound so positive in post!!! (ah! tone down the hyper!) and I forgot to add "this" before "post!"
But...I hate how the word love in my perspective means less than what others perceive it to be. So replace all those "I love" to "I really like" but it isn't as catchy.
And there we go...just a couple more posts and I'll have 100 (4 more I think).
And a now quote from a short novel I finished today - Dawn by Elie Wiesel (the very same who wrote Night, yes you know the one) -
And...how can I end a post without a cat picture?
:-(
It kind of feels like an eternity because that's all I've been thinking about...stories, stories, stories, characters, characters, characters, plot, plot, plot, write, write, write...STOP. Just for a little bit. And it feels like I'm not living any life and my body is only a husk where all my other selves can move in...and the not cool part is...they don't have to pay rent becuase there isn't any.
But, since I've told Mmm Bunnies to keep writing (in several spam-like comments) then I won't stop either. :)
So here's something I wrote about an author unconsciously making a deal with the devil in order to finish her manuscript in time which I wrote just earlier in my confuzzled state (thank you Jehsyka for that awesome word - a mixture of "confused" and "puzzled") To read it click ----> the 13th hour.
Google Docs comes in really handy so hooray for Google! *claps* But, my timed break is almost over.
So, in a nutshell what I wanted to say was -
I love writing and I'll never give it up.
I love drawing. I'll never give that up too.
I love listening to video game music no matter what anyone says.
I love reading, especially the blogs of internet friends.
I love blogging.
I love blogging at nighttime (duh, it's the best time to blog).
I love how I sound so positive in post!!! (ah! tone down the hyper!) and I forgot to add "this" before "post!"
But...I hate how the word love in my perspective means less than what others perceive it to be. So replace all those "I love" to "I really like" but it isn't as catchy.
And there we go...just a couple more posts and I'll have 100 (4 more I think).
And a now quote from a short novel I finished today - Dawn by Elie Wiesel (the very same who wrote Night, yes you know the one) -
"Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true... The tragedy of man is that he doesn't know how to distinguish between day and night. He says things at night that should only be said at day."
And...how can I end a post without a cat picture?
:-(
poolside
++After this I'm getting back to writing YZ0 >_>'' I'm also a Castlevania music nerd...
Wandering the crystal blue, you wonder sometimes if what belongs there is true. It could be a beautiful hapless dream - of delusions in the light of boredom. Momentary visions of what cannot exist - at least of what we can't take into our own hands and control. So it doesn't exist.
As for the reason why this boat rocks so much is because of the effect water has on solid objects. You can't fully grasp water - unless it's frozen - so we gave it this dreamy mysterious quality. It is nothing but an ethereal form - ephemeral. It can't exist. Nothing real exists there.
So what is it then? This face I see staring back... Is the sea just a mirror? A dark, dark, petrifying mirror that shows us the past? the present? future? I look deeper and deeper, catching my sleep-deprived face in the water, holding it for awhile in my brain - a snatch in time in the ever flowing water. It eventually fades with the tiny waves and ripples. Do I exist?
In this merciless body of water. I certainly can't stand in it else I want to drown. So I'll exist, only temporarily, only long enough till exhaustion racks my frenzied limbs when trying to swim to shore - when there isn't one in sight - and I have enough oxygen in my lungs to scream in the empty blue up ahead. Instead of sending some form of help - some form of solid ground for my feet to stand on - it echoes the sound. Mocking, mocking, mocking...my cry of helplessness in this human-dominated world...
I don't exist.
I don't exist.
I don't exist.
I don't exist.
I don't...
...
...
..
..
.
.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I immediately opened my eyes, the blinding rays of sunlight scorching my periphery.
"Get on out of here! Out! Out! OUT!"
Oh crap. I fell asleep again didn't I? It must've been or else I wouldn't have been caught.
"Quit lookin' at me like that kid. Don't make me sic the dogs on you." He was literally red as a tomato. If I wasn't in danger - like, actual danger 'cause those dogs are vicious - I'd laugh. "GET OUT!"
I scrambled out the pool, the swimming tube under my arm. Right when I was at the gate the sound of barking was right behind me so I ran the hell away from there. "Sorry Mr. Wazowski! I'll never do it again! Promise!"
That wasn't his name. I just called him that for the heck of it.
"Never do the same thing twice," that's what someone smart said to me. And it's right, in a way. I shouldn't do the same thing twice...
I'll bring friends. Next time.
"Isn't that a little stupid?" they'll probably say.
No. So I'll say, "Dude. He has a freakin' pool."
So next time it is.
Wandering the crystal blue, you wonder sometimes if what belongs there is true. It could be a beautiful hapless dream - of delusions in the light of boredom. Momentary visions of what cannot exist - at least of what we can't take into our own hands and control. So it doesn't exist.
As for the reason why this boat rocks so much is because of the effect water has on solid objects. You can't fully grasp water - unless it's frozen - so we gave it this dreamy mysterious quality. It is nothing but an ethereal form - ephemeral. It can't exist. Nothing real exists there.
So what is it then? This face I see staring back... Is the sea just a mirror? A dark, dark, petrifying mirror that shows us the past? the present? future? I look deeper and deeper, catching my sleep-deprived face in the water, holding it for awhile in my brain - a snatch in time in the ever flowing water. It eventually fades with the tiny waves and ripples. Do I exist?
In this merciless body of water. I certainly can't stand in it else I want to drown. So I'll exist, only temporarily, only long enough till exhaustion racks my frenzied limbs when trying to swim to shore - when there isn't one in sight - and I have enough oxygen in my lungs to scream in the empty blue up ahead. Instead of sending some form of help - some form of solid ground for my feet to stand on - it echoes the sound. Mocking, mocking, mocking...my cry of helplessness in this human-dominated world...
I don't exist.
I don't exist.
I don't exist.
I don't exist.
I don't...
...
...
..
..
.
.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I immediately opened my eyes, the blinding rays of sunlight scorching my periphery.
"Get on out of here! Out! Out! OUT!"
Oh crap. I fell asleep again didn't I? It must've been or else I wouldn't have been caught.
"Quit lookin' at me like that kid. Don't make me sic the dogs on you." He was literally red as a tomato. If I wasn't in danger - like, actual danger 'cause those dogs are vicious - I'd laugh. "GET OUT!"
I scrambled out the pool, the swimming tube under my arm. Right when I was at the gate the sound of barking was right behind me so I ran the hell away from there. "Sorry Mr. Wazowski! I'll never do it again! Promise!"
That wasn't his name. I just called him that for the heck of it.
"Never do the same thing twice," that's what someone smart said to me. And it's right, in a way. I shouldn't do the same thing twice...
I'll bring friends. Next time.
"Isn't that a little stupid?" they'll probably say.
No. So I'll say, "Dude. He has a freakin' pool."
So next time it is.
i dreamt of a town...
I know that there was something - some kind of purpose - to these dreams I'd had for the past few weeks. A town, somewhere along the shore that called to me like a ghost of a memory I once had.
It was of course of a friend whom I knew and played with as a child. It was of course of a friend, whom I knew, had died. It was the night that showed me his face for multiple times and it is the night that I blame for my unwillingness to sleep. And the thought of it all is absurd.
I asked a friend to drive me there, that little town, for the weekend.
It hadn't changed much, not from what I remember of it. There was also that same smell, probably the smell of the smokestacks of the factories or the fish market - at best a mixture of both. But that wasn't the destination I had in mind.
What I thought of was the lighthouse. Burned by the accidental fire that later killed my friend. It was rebuilt - of course it would - built all shiny and new. It was insulting in a way and I wished for this contraption to collapse.
"What are you looking for?" she said to me. For the past minute or so, I'd done nothing but stare at this damned lighthouse - seeing...remembering the charred remains that took him from me. "Fae. Fae!"
I closed my eyes for only a moment, feeling a wave of dizziness rack my brain. Then there was his face and then a scream - and in my groggy state, I couldn't tell whether that scream was real. All that I know was that it echoed in the blackness and I was out like a light.
I woke in a cold sweat. My clothes damp and restricting. But amidst this I knew what he wanted me to do - what I repressed because of the fire.
I wasn't in a hospital of any sort, just the first aid room in the lighthouse. I rose to my feet feeling the previous drowsiness and heaviness melt away due to the adrenaline rush of realization.
I failed once. Failed to be there for him lost in my grief that later resulted in my moving away. And what I left behind was the only light he left in that tragedy.
Bursting past the doors and ignoring the concerned cries of my friend hurrying behind me, I jumped down to the shore, the sand softening the impact. It was all too familiar because we'd walked here many times, too many times that we gave every sea-creature and stand-alone rock a name. But I had forgotten those now and they too had moved on with the deliberate passage of time.
And there it was - the hollow in the rock as I remembered it which I struck with another sharper rock in order to loosen it. Once done, I took the cover of the hollow and brushed the sand off the cool surface of the lunch-box I predicted was there. My friend had appeared at my side by the time I had this rusted box in my hands.
My heart beat frantically, the face of the boy and his voice clear in my mind, as I opened the box to find a few keepsakes and a scrap of stationary. Among the keepsakes were old toys and baubles, items I remembered that we found or salvaged, giving each and every one of them a significant meaning that only a child can grant. I'd forgot about that too and I despised that fact that he - having haunted my dreams for who knows how long - wouldn't just remind me instead of me having to dig deep through my memories of the days I didn't want to remember.
I then took the paper, unfolding it to reveal his handwriting and a poem that struck a chord in my strained heart-
i dreamt of a town
and a face with a frown
and -would you guess-
his face wasn't all too pleasant
i couldn't see
what was to become of me
of the hellfire-like emotions
slowly consuming me
if this is to be
what i shall leave
as the last proof
to prove my sanity
then - so be it
and so my friend in the dark
i bid you good night
and weep for your loneliness
because it's all too clear why you appear to me and me only
we are the same
too much alike
too hauntingly alike
that i'd rather never see you again...
I lowered the letter to my lap, letting whatever tear fall where they may. The boy was laughing at me now. Laughing a terrible laugh that echoed like a never-ending spiral over and over and over...
Closing my ears against this broken-record of laughter, the paper blew into the wind, landing and eventually submerging into the watery deep lost for eternity.
It was of course of a friend whom I knew and played with as a child. It was of course of a friend, whom I knew, had died. It was the night that showed me his face for multiple times and it is the night that I blame for my unwillingness to sleep. And the thought of it all is absurd.
I asked a friend to drive me there, that little town, for the weekend.
It hadn't changed much, not from what I remember of it. There was also that same smell, probably the smell of the smokestacks of the factories or the fish market - at best a mixture of both. But that wasn't the destination I had in mind.
What I thought of was the lighthouse. Burned by the accidental fire that later killed my friend. It was rebuilt - of course it would - built all shiny and new. It was insulting in a way and I wished for this contraption to collapse.
"What are you looking for?" she said to me. For the past minute or so, I'd done nothing but stare at this damned lighthouse - seeing...remembering the charred remains that took him from me. "Fae. Fae!"
I closed my eyes for only a moment, feeling a wave of dizziness rack my brain. Then there was his face and then a scream - and in my groggy state, I couldn't tell whether that scream was real. All that I know was that it echoed in the blackness and I was out like a light.
+ + +
I woke in a cold sweat. My clothes damp and restricting. But amidst this I knew what he wanted me to do - what I repressed because of the fire.
I wasn't in a hospital of any sort, just the first aid room in the lighthouse. I rose to my feet feeling the previous drowsiness and heaviness melt away due to the adrenaline rush of realization.
I failed once. Failed to be there for him lost in my grief that later resulted in my moving away. And what I left behind was the only light he left in that tragedy.
Bursting past the doors and ignoring the concerned cries of my friend hurrying behind me, I jumped down to the shore, the sand softening the impact. It was all too familiar because we'd walked here many times, too many times that we gave every sea-creature and stand-alone rock a name. But I had forgotten those now and they too had moved on with the deliberate passage of time.
And there it was - the hollow in the rock as I remembered it which I struck with another sharper rock in order to loosen it. Once done, I took the cover of the hollow and brushed the sand off the cool surface of the lunch-box I predicted was there. My friend had appeared at my side by the time I had this rusted box in my hands.
My heart beat frantically, the face of the boy and his voice clear in my mind, as I opened the box to find a few keepsakes and a scrap of stationary. Among the keepsakes were old toys and baubles, items I remembered that we found or salvaged, giving each and every one of them a significant meaning that only a child can grant. I'd forgot about that too and I despised that fact that he - having haunted my dreams for who knows how long - wouldn't just remind me instead of me having to dig deep through my memories of the days I didn't want to remember.
I then took the paper, unfolding it to reveal his handwriting and a poem that struck a chord in my strained heart-
i dreamt of a town
and a face with a frown
and -would you guess-
his face wasn't all too pleasant
i couldn't see
what was to become of me
of the hellfire-like emotions
slowly consuming me
if this is to be
what i shall leave
as the last proof
to prove my sanity
then - so be it
and so my friend in the dark
i bid you good night
and weep for your loneliness
because it's all too clear why you appear to me and me only
we are the same
too much alike
too hauntingly alike
that i'd rather never see you again...
I lowered the letter to my lap, letting whatever tear fall where they may. The boy was laughing at me now. Laughing a terrible laugh that echoed like a never-ending spiral over and over and over...
Closing my ears against this broken-record of laughter, the paper blew into the wind, landing and eventually submerging into the watery deep lost for eternity.
finally
So it's finally over.
Even though school ended a couple of hours ago, I've been sitting here stewing over plot ideas and thinking about absolutely nothing while listening to music...also I have to mention that it's terribly stuffy and hot (and it'll get even more horrible later on in the summer).
I don't know how I did this year. All I now is that it would probably be best if there was that non-existant reset button at the ready. But I can't do that because then that'll mean that everything I'd have written because of my troubles and everything that I've read would be erased. Also, what I changed about my room would disappear and I'd also have to relive getting these damn braces. Dammit all. :) But I mean this in a good way. So things haven't been well. So things are ruined and they should stay that way right? Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on what I do further on.
All I know is that I'm a year from graduation and the happy face I saw dancing around in sixth period today shouting that it was "one more year till we go into the real world" I couldn't have felt more worried. Then I realized that if I thought about it too long I would never get my essay done on time (but I did finish it and got to writing bits of the next chapter).
I don't want to dwell on the future because it doesn't exist yet and I also don't want to go all paranoid and try to avoid it in some way like Holden Caulfield (Catcher in the Rye).
I'm rambling but I'm feeling slightly more focused now that this is out of the way. So, here's a random cat picture...
M-Mr. Fuzzles?
Even though school ended a couple of hours ago, I've been sitting here stewing over plot ideas and thinking about absolutely nothing while listening to music...also I have to mention that it's terribly stuffy and hot (and it'll get even more horrible later on in the summer).
I don't know how I did this year. All I now is that it would probably be best if there was that non-existant reset button at the ready. But I can't do that because then that'll mean that everything I'd have written because of my troubles and everything that I've read would be erased. Also, what I changed about my room would disappear and I'd also have to relive getting these damn braces. Dammit all. :) But I mean this in a good way. So things haven't been well. So things are ruined and they should stay that way right? Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on what I do further on.
All I know is that I'm a year from graduation and the happy face I saw dancing around in sixth period today shouting that it was "one more year till we go into the real world" I couldn't have felt more worried. Then I realized that if I thought about it too long I would never get my essay done on time (but I did finish it and got to writing bits of the next chapter).
I don't want to dwell on the future because it doesn't exist yet and I also don't want to go all paranoid and try to avoid it in some way like Holden Caulfield (Catcher in the Rye).
I'm rambling but I'm feeling slightly more focused now that this is out of the way. So, here's a random cat picture...
M-Mr. Fuzzles?
I think I did fairly well today
(that up there is the actual coat of arms for the place I'll be borrowing for the later parts of the story when we finally get to set foot on Russian soil - I'll probably use this or just make my own from it so there's no legal stuff (if I have time)) So click for the - surprisingly - fast upload for the time being ( or I thought it was).Tomorrow is the very last day of school and I can't wait...though I wish that the last week didn't have to be Finals week but the week before so people don't freak out. :)
But besides that, and me not having anything to say...for how many days has it been? Not sure but I have to do something -right- now so the post ends here...
shall be back after these messages...bzzzzzt
Sorry, I think I'm funny so nevermind that possibly disturbing statement.
Here's something good. I love this song and imeem rocks for the Repeat button (except for the part where you have to make an account to listen to some artists) >.>
Holy hell I got a chapter done. And the weekend is looking up.
Yesterday, because of the day before, my frustrations simmered to a low boil (and it was a chance for everyone to see my little friend there who is both good and bad - in the fictional sense) and I got one of those year-end essays done. Now with one more to go I'm going to finish that right now... :|
Yesterday, because of the day before, my frustrations simmered to a low boil (and it was a chance for everyone to see my little friend there who is both good and bad - in the fictional sense) and I got one of those year-end essays done. Now with one more to go I'm going to finish that right now... :|
totally uninspired and half dead
so what do you do when you're uninspired and bogged with end of year essays? write in small letters and procrastinate (obviously because you are to lazy to use the shift key every time you start a new sentence)...
at least tomorrow there's ice cream in class to look forward to... with liquid nitrogen
i'm still writing, little by little. have been trying to write out a page a day but that isn't working. can't even bear to lift a pencil and draw but it's different when i use a tablet and draw on the computer (but everything comes out stupid so it doesn't matter)
i have to catch up on everyone else's blogs by the way...
oh here's something good: i'm doing a literary analysis on stoker's dracula. i really meant that in a good way since the topic is much more interesting than the list of suggested topics we were given for the final exam... in forensics
i know what you're thinking "how is dracula (this highly sexualized novel) related to forensics in anyway? at all?" i don't know. so, to distract thee from this question...
here's a good example of how i've been feeling this whole damn week!
totally uninspired and half dead but not dead enough that i'm a zombie...hopefully
yes fellow (or not) procrastinators i'm about ready to give up to those things that eat you from the inside out and i actually believe that it'll be better off that way. sigh. hopefully that's just my stressed out self talking because normally i'd keep going... now why should i again?
everyone else proceed to blog and such and such. i know i get extremely off and weird when confronted with negativity so i'm going to stop before this post is totally blown off proportion of what i intended it to be.
so goodbye good luck and may this procrastinator get off their lazy arse and do some work for once.
ahh, decisions decisions... i feel like a trapped animal even though i'm capable of opening the door...give me death, liberty, cake, freedom! oh, anything besides work! *sarcastic face*
:D
think p o s i t i v e.
...yeah, I have no thoughts to document.
Ch. 1 is up! :]
Man. I write long chapters...
...yeah, I have no thoughts to document.
Ch. 1 is up! :]
Man. I write long chapters...
the cruel old woman
I never got to post this - so here it is... A poem I think from sometime in June?
i dreamed a dream where everything had gone away and they didn't say good-bye. all that was left was a cold-hearted spinster of a woman who refused to look the other way.
they all said good-bye
they all bade farewell
but the cruel old woman didn't spare a passing glance
and continued her way
i dreamed a dream where everything disappeared and left behind an outline of dust. all that was left was a cold surface and the dust that surrounded the objects that didn't last for forever as i had imagined.
they all said good-bye
they all bade farewell
but the cruel old woman didn't spare a passing glance
and continued her way
i dreamed a dream where everything crumbled to dust and blew away in the wind. all that was left was the residue on the hands that held it all, clutched at it till forever crumbled along with it. all that was left was a defenseless cold heart more vulnerable than i ever wanted it to be.
they all said good-bye
she bade farewell
they bade farewell
she said good-bye
she then stared straight at her cruel old self
but the cruel old woman didn't spare a passing glance
and continued her way
i dreamed a dream where i cried for myself for being too much like that cruel old woman - that stubborn stoic independent woman who's also bitter and despondent - if i let go of those dear to me.
we all said good-bye
we all bade farewell
unconsciously to the cruel old woman
and we continued our way
and all that was left was a path of light for the cruel old woman to follow, a light that reached into the heavens and she refused to look the other way.
i dreamed a dream where everything had gone away and they didn't say good-bye. all that was left was a cold-hearted spinster of a woman who refused to look the other way.
they all said good-bye
they all bade farewell
but the cruel old woman didn't spare a passing glance
and continued her way
i dreamed a dream where everything disappeared and left behind an outline of dust. all that was left was a cold surface and the dust that surrounded the objects that didn't last for forever as i had imagined.
they all said good-bye
they all bade farewell
but the cruel old woman didn't spare a passing glance
and continued her way
i dreamed a dream where everything crumbled to dust and blew away in the wind. all that was left was the residue on the hands that held it all, clutched at it till forever crumbled along with it. all that was left was a defenseless cold heart more vulnerable than i ever wanted it to be.
they all said good-bye
she bade farewell
they bade farewell
she said good-bye
she then stared straight at her cruel old self
but the cruel old woman didn't spare a passing glance
and continued her way
i dreamed a dream where i cried for myself for being too much like that cruel old woman - that stubborn stoic independent woman who's also bitter and despondent - if i let go of those dear to me.
we all said good-bye
we all bade farewell
unconsciously to the cruel old woman
and we continued our way
and all that was left was a path of light for the cruel old woman to follow, a light that reached into the heavens and she refused to look the other way.
Not feeling any better today...feels as if my heads about to explode. :|
Of rants and poetry and aquariums
Think happy thoughts
to pave the path of a fitful sleep
Dream the dreams that a child makes
to rekindle the light
at the end of the tunnel
Honestly, I'm dead tired. Yesterday I took a nap in the afternoon and didn't wake till an hour before midnight. And I don't mean just wake up and go back to sleep but I was WIDE AWAKE. Holy spitfire seahorse on a chicken wing... *shakes head* Wait a minute there's nothing holy about that! [/end lameness]
So I ended up staying up till 5: 30 or 40 AM before I could sleep...for one hour. During that time however I listened to music, typed up some Year Zero related stuff and read some chapters of The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (I ended up finishing it today and it wasn't that bad :D It isn't boring like some classmates of mine said >_>)
Oh. I finally stood up for myself for once in English class. God. I have a normal English class (b/c I used to have Honors English in the past or, if you want to take it a step higher, would have gotten to AP if I wanted) and I question how my teacher can bear with some of the students in that class on a daily basis because if you stay there too long, it just turns into a madhouse full of children and you too go mad. Exaggeration? Maybe, maybe not. It could also be my exhaustion talking but I really meant what I said. :)
But yes. We were supposed to answer some questions for the assigned chapters in Gatsby (which I finished in time the period before. As mentioned earlier, I read ahead so I asked for the questions that we were supposed to get tomorrow) and I was asked whether they (the person behind me) "could see the questions." All right. I'm a nice person and I didn't know what to say anyways since I was focused on something else. So I give the paper, she looks at it. Asks me to point out a couple of words that she can't decipher (because my writing is a mixture of cursive and print on a right-slant I'll have to post a sample some day) until she finally gives up.
"Can I see your paper?" she asks another student.
'Why? Isn't that it there?" they reply.
"Yeah but I can't read this s***!" She hands me the paper. "Here you go, thank you."
I thought: Your welcome... Not.
Minutes later, another person asked for the same paper (who happened to sit next to the one behind me. Yes, they were friends) and I said something along the lines of, "No because you won't learn anything that way. Sorry."
She asks, "Why didn't you say that earlier?"
"Because I just thought of it."
'Wait. What did she say?" says the one behind me.
And so she repeats what I said and they laugh.
Now my thoughts on this were: Can you be anymore immature? At least I'm honest.
In the sense that I don't talk behind other people's backs and curse at teachers for "bein' stupid." I hear too many things in that class that is beyond stupidity and immature that its insulting. I know teenagers can be smarter than this. But this...this is the stereotypical teen you see in those adult-oriented movies with crude humor. And I've asked myself in that class what the world later on is going to be like when it's these same people who're going to vote and have families. :| But I'm getting ahead of myself. Like in the novel:
to pave the path of a fitful sleep
Dream the dreams that a child makes
to rekindle the light
at the end of the tunnel
Honestly, I'm dead tired. Yesterday I took a nap in the afternoon and didn't wake till an hour before midnight. And I don't mean just wake up and go back to sleep but I was WIDE AWAKE. Holy spitfire seahorse on a chicken wing... *shakes head* Wait a minute there's nothing holy about that! [/end lameness]
So I ended up staying up till 5: 30 or 40 AM before I could sleep...for one hour. During that time however I listened to music, typed up some Year Zero related stuff and read some chapters of The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (I ended up finishing it today and it wasn't that bad :D It isn't boring like some classmates of mine said >_>)
Oh. I finally stood up for myself for once in English class. God. I have a normal English class (b/c I used to have Honors English in the past or, if you want to take it a step higher, would have gotten to AP if I wanted) and I question how my teacher can bear with some of the students in that class on a daily basis because if you stay there too long, it just turns into a madhouse full of children and you too go mad. Exaggeration? Maybe, maybe not. It could also be my exhaustion talking but I really meant what I said. :)
But yes. We were supposed to answer some questions for the assigned chapters in Gatsby (which I finished in time the period before. As mentioned earlier, I read ahead so I asked for the questions that we were supposed to get tomorrow) and I was asked whether they (the person behind me) "could see the questions." All right. I'm a nice person and I didn't know what to say anyways since I was focused on something else. So I give the paper, she looks at it. Asks me to point out a couple of words that she can't decipher (because my writing is a mixture of cursive and print on a right-slant I'll have to post a sample some day) until she finally gives up.
"Can I see your paper?" she asks another student.
'Why? Isn't that it there?" they reply.
"Yeah but I can't read this s***!" She hands me the paper. "Here you go, thank you."
I thought: Your welcome... Not.
Minutes later, another person asked for the same paper (who happened to sit next to the one behind me. Yes, they were friends) and I said something along the lines of, "No because you won't learn anything that way. Sorry."
She asks, "Why didn't you say that earlier?"
"Because I just thought of it."
'Wait. What did she say?" says the one behind me.
And so she repeats what I said and they laugh.
Now my thoughts on this were: Can you be anymore immature? At least I'm honest.
In the sense that I don't talk behind other people's backs and curse at teachers for "bein' stupid." I hear too many things in that class that is beyond stupidity and immature that its insulting. I know teenagers can be smarter than this. But this...this is the stereotypical teen you see in those adult-oriented movies with crude humor. And I've asked myself in that class what the world later on is going to be like when it's these same people who're going to vote and have families. :| But I'm getting ahead of myself. Like in the novel:
"Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone...just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages you've had."And just like the protagonist, as an individual I (and I find it terrible that I sound very vain and horribly judgmental right now) am very tolerant, open-minded and listen more than I speak. These traits may denote a mild-mannered person but it's conflicting when you know that there are two sides to everybody. What I've seen and heard is only one side of the people in that classroom and I don't have the right to say that out loud because it isn't true. It isn't as if I've talked to each of them personally, getting to know them, you know the whole notepad and pen shizz that newsreporters do. I can't give facts. I can only speculate and theorize. And because of my initial dislike for teen subcultures and labels, I cannot bring myself to understand half of the terms that the youth today use to substitute for another word... :| and most tend to be inappropriate... All right. I'm going to stop and rest.
But, simply, I feel like the kid outside the aquarium. I find the creatures inside fascinating so I take a footstool and reach for one, finding that it slips through my fingers. I try and try and try but each evade my grasp until an adult scolds me and takes me to the sink so I can wash my hands. When the adult leaves, I try again but to no avail.
"I want to know what it's like," the child says. "I want to have one just like it. The very same one, that colorful one right there." But the one the child pointed out was too expensive and not meant for children.
Forgive me it appears that I've ranted... :|
