Ephemeral Wings

one word: bundle

2010-01-30T18:14:00.000-08:00

a bundle of wishes, that's what I am
the incarnation of mankind's deepest desires

of carnal lust I am
of hope and love I am
of sorrow and despair I, too, am

a bundle of wishes, that is what some call me
so, to whoever's listening please come set me free

“There is a marvelous peace in not publishing. I like to write. I love to write. But I write just for myself and my own pleasure.”

2010-01-28T18:31:00.000-08:00

Rest in Peace J.D Salinger

Eew

2010-01-25T00:34:00.000-08:00

So, in my short to find some funny donut pictures earlier. I found something i thought I'd show for the sake of making a somewhat random post.

...Yeah.

Ants are annoying...like onions hanging out in the fridge

2010-01-24T21:54:00.000-08:00

Hullo bloggers, just felt like posting a few words since I'm procrastinating at the moment.

For the next two days I have finals (which I'm not as worried as I should be) and then it's the new semester with new semester classes. It's been wonderfully rainy and windy, though I could without the damp shoes :) Oh and next week on January 31 (Sunday) I'll be going to an Anime Convention - which will be pretty sweet as it's my 1st one >.< It's a wonder how positive this post is compared to everything else. >.> Though it could be all these ants biting here and there that might have had something to do with it.

Yes. The house is being overrun by ants anytime a bit of food is left or maybe even a crumb. It isn't even that the house is terribly messy but more like they're living inside/under the house...much like the unlucky people who get stuck with beehives and have to call an exterminator (which I don't think will happen anytime soon for us so we have to deal with it).

... Well...there is a certain person who should be a bit considerate about food. Especially if it involves onions in refrigerators...uncovered or improperly put away. Sure, there isn't a one "right" way to put away onions but they should be sealed in some way that doesn't let the stink out. I've told them once or twice but it isn't enough. On this blog though, I will say it once.

Do NOT leave onions uncovered in the refrigerator. PLEASE. Put it in a baggie w/ a zipper or use a container like tupperware. If the onions just sit there it'll stink to high heaven, affecting any open drinks or soft foods like bread.

I swear to you bloggers that I had a donut in there I was hoping to save for lunchtime. So when I got it, I noticed the onion stink - which wasn't there before so it was put in when somebody cooked that evening. :| And so, I smelled a bit of onion and thought that it should be okay...but when I took a bite... I was wrong. So terribly terribly wrong.

For the sake of donuts everywhere, do not leave onions hanging out in the fridge. Or outside, in case the ants want'em too.

Hey, it isn't like I'm a little on the chubby side but I prefer my donuts onion-stink free. :U

The joys and wonders of 1st person one-shots

2010-01-17T00:23:00.000-08:00

Finals are coming up and I'm a little anxious, to tell you the truth. And, not to mention, I feel like everything is about to change. The whole week is going to be weird, I just know it.

At the moment, I should be working on what I have to get done by the time the semester's over and on studying too, but, I feel like jotting down a few words to loosen the mind. I really don't want to do anything, it's a three day weekend! But, I have to or else ._.

So here's something for/from the pseudo universe of The Wingless.

Word of caution: Some existentialist-type stuff ahead. o_o Or just psycho-stuff idk.

- - -

"Do you believe yourself to be real?"

"Do you think for other people?"

"Do you do things for the sake of yourself?"

The questions they asked me were mere buzzes in the back of my head. I haven't been able to hear ever since I woke up. Even that, I'm not sure of. Maybe, I've been awake the whole time but just haven't realized.

"Am I real? Or am I a fake?"

"It's cold. It's thick. I can't move my hands."

"I see red."

Did I do something wrong? Even though... I'm not sure what wrong is. But I know, that on their faces are the faces of anger and dislike. I don't want to look at them. They make me think of bad things. Negative things... Of the times, the time, when I figured out -

That everybody hates me.

"What is worth? What is a name?"

"My name means nothing. But somehow they found me."

"There's a hundred other people with this name."

But within closed eye, I am able to see, my fabrications of their faces, just like I do with everybody else. People, as you know, wear masks. So I see masks, nothing but masks, and they float around like phantoms. The masks frown at my unwillingness to speak.

"Do you remember the feeling? The smell of smoke..."

"The feeling of deciding another's fate..."

"How it slaked your desire to feel important?"

This voice was empowering. It gave me direction.

"But once isn't enough."

"You cannot be satisfied with one."

"You must take another and another, until your hands overflow with the fates of others -"

It gave me confidence, gave me meaning and truth - that's what I told myself - but inside, I knew, that what I was doing was wrong in the society we live in today. Yet, even then, I asked myself, why should I listen? Why should I follow their rules?

I am nervous. My hands are shaking uncontrollably.

"-and till then will you feel better."

I shake my head. I can hear them shout and scream hateful things at me.

"That is... Until you get the feeling again."

I open my eyes. A heavy hand slammed the desk before me. Upon impact, my eyes were drawn to theirs, thick folds accenting the bridge of the nose, narrowing the eyes. They looked upon me with the eyes of judgment.

"How could you deny what you've already testified?" he asked me, impatient, "And what countless witnesses have already said? Just tell us why. Why did you do it?"

I covered my face to hide those eyes. I knew this would happen, that others would look at me like I didn't belong. Like I truly did something wrong when it was just something I wanted to do. What I felt I had to do. My feelings had to be put into place somehow. I just didn't think that it would end up like this.

Earlier... I said that people had masks. I am not an exception. This particular mask moved according to the tone of the voice and what they said. To me, the mask smiled:

"You can't escape it."

"It's a need, your personal drug. And it cannot go unsatisfied."

"You want to kill. You -"

- - -

"-must kill. For the sake of myself I must."

The child before me was not in the right state of mind. Their hands shook, their eyes wild and wide... I pitied this child and what they went through to end up in such a state.

"I...wanted to kill...in order...to feel...real."

"I felt real. I want to be real. I want to exist."

"I wanted to do something that mattered."

I looked at my companion and saw my reaction mirrored in their eyes. Shock and awe. I turned back to the child, shivering in their seat. It was all too fluid to be fake, too smooth to be a ruse.

They looked especially troubled.

"I don't want this," they said quietly, "I don't. I don't want to kill...anymore."

- - -

...The pseudo-universe, in my eyes, is crazy. A lot of weird things happen, a lot of deaths, a lot of events having to do with morals and etc. etc. And I'll say that they derive from my experiences and my thoughts...and apparently my art too, as it's being affected by this delightfully f-ed up thinking of mine (as somebody commented personally a few days ago). So I'm going along with it, as you could probably tell.

I've also discovered the wonderful world of 1st person, and how easier it flows on the keyboard. it just so happens that when I write in 3rd person, my head hurts after a while because, with the way it is, my mind has been unable to "sit still" as of late (which is troubling). o_o Some last thoughts...

I think writing a happy ending will be the toughest thing I will ever do (it will happen, just expect the world to end by that time). :)

Just awesome :D

2010-01-04T16:46:00.000-08:00

I got back from school just a few hours ago. Surprisingly enough, I didn't fall asleep in class given that I only slept for an hour or so (I really detest screwy biological clocks). Anyway, all throughout (while I did do my work), I was thinking of a concept for another short story/or long one depending on how much content I want to add as they are somewhat personal - but with a twist so it's more tragic than it seems. But, as it has appeared to me in my present shortcomings, it really is much easier to think about an idea rather than execute and finish it.

But this year, I wanted to make it a priority, now that I have a small idea on what to do after graduation. No, I will not be going straight to a university but take classes on Art and work on building up a portfolio. Then I can go to an Art school.

My hopes for last year (since I got Art class) was that I'd learn the fundamentals. But, that isn't what we got. My school is an underrated school. It's fairly old too as it's currently getting a much needed face lift that shall be ready by next year. So Art class has cut down, especially on what is 'supposed' to be learned. I was hoping to cover shading, figures, observation techniques etc. etc. but what was I to gain from expecting so much? Not a whole lot, but a little something here or there.

Ah well.

So, I wrote this poem on the concept I mentioned before I went into Rant mode - which I do when I get a fresh thought and I follow it. I wanted to personify wishing stars. Here I question the idea while giving a base intro and all but I wanted to give them the traits of a fast-living human, like the reckless types who 'live in the moment.' In a way - as I've written dabbles here and there - these stars are beings of desire as they have short lives. 'Beings of desire...?' It's tricky as most of the wishes people wish for aren't greedy or anything like that. People actually wish for good, don't they?

Okay, so these stars are bipolar (in a way). :) But that's me poking fun at the subject because I'm wondering which approach I want to take when writing because there are three scenarios that I can take, maybe even more than that.

And, I should mention, that this concept is something I overuse, ever since 'fate' and 'destiny' always seemed to mingle with the word 'star' or 'stars.' Angels is something I've long overused since people with wings fascinate me.

Etoile

Stars, the light of our wishes

Good and bad, drift in unlimited space;

Our imaginings, the sky a reflection of our collective minds.

Whether angel or devil

Of ghost or of soul,

Do your beliefs lie

Among the millions of colored lights?

Whisper along a wish,

To pass the time, bored;

For stale life loops as if in lazy slumber

For the lives that pass through it have their own missions.

So the changing atmosphere

Affects us all. Mercurial in temper

Or cool and calm in a fervent summer

A tempest rages war within us -

A mess of emotions - parleying stress

Mentally and physically
To the struggling host body.

And thus these lights

Become the carrier - the symbol - of our escape,

Our safe place; our dreams.
And our hopes.

Is it childish?
As they distract from earthly things
And lift the burdens we can only carry
With our less than capable shoulders
During the times when we are not at our best.

Then, is there not another possible world
Among these lights?
In the blackness do they dwell
Lighting whatever they can
Within the malign conjurings of the human mind -
The human will.

Are not the stars capable of feeling too?

As they are beings fashioned of our thoughts and devices
Their lives are reckless and brief.
Their cross, glued to their backs, tied down by linings of gold;
Tiny persons ask for freedom
From the suffocating dark.

But of angel or demon
Of good or evil intent, if freed
Is unknown, as their development lies
Within the wishes we wished.
What creature does that supplement make them?

I'm not sure whether to continue this or if the cut-off point is there... But there's more to come.

I hope you enjoy this song as much as I do. :3

Back to School (in 2010)

2010-01-04T01:49:00.000-08:00

I don't know what I was thinking but I'm sure I was out of my mind.

No I won't be leaving this blog. I've put my time and thoughts into it and I've gone too far to delete it now.

So...hopefully this shall be a better year (even if only a little bit) in life and creative endeavors.

The 5-shot I posted was something based on my thoughts and...guess what? I finished it. If I can finish that then surely I can finish the other projects I've left laying around.

I won't call this a resolution but I will call it as a goal.

For everyone who still checks back and reads this, thank you. I probably don't show it much in my (presently) negative posts but I truly appreciate blogging communities.

Well, that's about it. I'm supposed to have school in...7 or so hours and I'm totally not thinking about it.

The Wingless pt.5

2010-01-04T01:34:00.000-08:00

It was a box. A box with many locks. And inside were wondrous treasures, sleeping - waiting, for the owner to call upon them.
These treasures change the world, how you perceive it to be, how you react.

These treasures are what make a person...?

Like an onion skin, your reactions have many layers. There are likes and dislikes. Hates and not hates. Reasons for being and reasons for doing. To believe and have faith... To choose the latter, less desirable but independent road...? Either way, as a person, there is something we abide by.

It gives direction and is affected by how others perceive it as such.

To accept these observations as your 'true belief'... Does that make you a victim to society?

We can't really fly. I know. We all know. We 'fly' through airplanes - technology. - but there is no freedom in that hunk of metal. We are fragile creatures and die easily. We can be picked off like flies.

But we very much want to fly.

We're only human. And in order to 'fly' there's a little something we need.

Is that something called love?

The Wingless pt.4

2010-01-04T01:32:00.000-08:00

I awake to the sound of water. It drips from the ceiling, flooding the floor that I lay. It had struck me many times round the eyes. I imagine the water to be very cold.

Above me seem to be prisms of glass. Around me are shards of glass, protruding in a jagged-like fashion. Sure to be dangerous if I ever get near them.

My hand unfurls, revealing the key I had - apparently - held onto for dear life. The embossed surface had pressed deep into my skin, leaving a very annoying itchy pain. I scratched, wondering why everything had a slight blue-ish hue. But I, in my monochrome color scheme - as far as I could see - was unaffected by the blue. I'd imagine me similar to a newspaper cutout on a blue piece of construction paper...

"Who are you?"

"Why am I here?"

"Why is all I am able to feel is pain?"

I was at the mercy of the mysterious pain in my chest.

"Who am I? I am you."

"Another you, created by you. But I am not you."

"I'm someone else entirely. I am who you could've been."

A searing pain only felt from the inside - a burning, a deep deep pressure - a reverse branding (if you will). The air is being knocked out of me. I can't breathe.

"I am the you who opened the Box."

"I am the you who isn't hurt all the time."

"I am the you - the only one - with true wings."

I utter a sharp cry, some remark against the voice - my voice - that I haven't heard for a long time. I was rendered unable to make coherent sentences.

I made myself the embodiment of my confusion, my anger and my illusionary - if not half - dramatized pain.

- - -

Is this real?

- - -

The last thing I saw was the crystalline ceiling before it faded... I closed my eyes once again.

- - -

It was box. An ordinary box. It was the box I put my heart in, my colors. So now I have no heart.

I had my heart in a jar.

I had my mind in a jar.

I dug needles into every pore, every cell. It convulsed for a short time but it stopped eventually.

Soon enough it was numb to the outside world.

After all, they were in jars. A mere vessel for a bigger more dumber host.

This is an experiment (or it was).

Now it's out of control.

And all I see is the deceiving monster in the mirror. I created it. It created me, which came first...?

- - -

Blackness. The Void. A spotlight shines down upon me, alerting me awake. I took a sharp breath, wincing, unaware that the pain was gone. I peered down saw the tatters that were this shirt, saw the faux valentine heart over where the real one should be - just like a brand or tattoo. It was being pierced by needles, like Cupid's arrow.

I sit up, finding an object in my pocket. Reluctantly, I took the blocky object out into the light. It was a box, a tiny palm-sized one, the decorations similar to the key... Which suddenly I removed from my other pocket.

"Sing a song, a song of light --"

"-- Make the demons scurry home into the depths of delusion --"

"In order to gain reprieve, from your restless dreams."

Easily enough, the key was for the box. It opened, revealing another. I had to use the same key. It too revealed another box. I used the key for it too. And begun a chain of three to four boxes, a box inside another box, the same key for everything till... I reached the possibly last box, where the key was too big.

The box was at least half a thimble in size and was unlike the other boxes, all pretty and decorated. It was a solid dark red color, lined with fine threads of gold. I examined the thing up and down, side to side and found a gold word... But it disappeared before I could make sense of it (since it was very small after all).

Just then, the box opened and out of it I took a scroll of paper.

It was blank but, given a few seconds, words came, as if being written and erased in real time.

"This is a story."

"That is a gift."

"Shelter not the soul --"

"...in your imaginings."

"But give unto thee, what others have given already."

"Otherwise...you shall remain --"

"...among the wingless."

The Wingless pt.3

2010-01-04T01:30:00.000-08:00

In this sleep there was a flower. I saw a blue flower, the rose on the crest. But it wasn't a real flower. No, it was a glass flower.

She said she liked roses.

She said she liked them even with the thorns.

She said it was a beauty that pricked people to teach them that it was only a rose and nothing else. But she cannot help but get caught up in what people defined the rose, the symbol that a rose stood for.

She said too that she liked fairytales.

So she began thinking of her life as a fairytale. And someone, somewhere, will hear this plea and save her from her delusional powerlessness. Yet, she'd refuse the help given even of those whose hearts were captivated by her strange feigned innocence, caused by her ignorant self - the person she thought she wanted to be.

She said that she was insane.

People are driven to tears because of her. They don't know what to think of her, like she doesn't know what to think of herself.

So she stays, cocooned in her shell. A glass flower whose petals shatter so easily, yet grow so fast. Even engulfing the broken pieces, bringing them closer to the sleeping one inside.

She is aware of her present state, yet cannot do anything about it. Her world had gone out of control and she let it. Now it wants to protect her forever, regardless of the outside world and it's whims.

- - -

She knows she is weak and wants to be protected.

She knows she can be strong and resilient.

She knows she is cowardly.

She's aware of her delusional self.

She's aware that she rationalizes a lot.

...

And she just realized that, well, she's made herself incapable of feeling.

It sounds so silly.

She knows that this is only a story.

Don't worry, it is.

The Wingless pt.2

2010-01-03T14:29:00.000-08:00

A letter came today. It was sealed with a pretty blue wax seal, a rose crest seen only in my own imaginings. I've imagined myself many times receiving a summons of this caliber to some far away town or kingdom and the results were none too desirable. Either I play the role of the Royal Fool or be a debtor for the king. Both ways I am hated and mocked. Both ways I wear some ridiculous humiliating garb that secures my role. There are no gray areas, no wayward paths or holes I can hide. Only, I fulfill the duty set out for me day in and day out.

And I watch myself live out a miserable existence, fantasy world or not. I've seen myself do so many times, thus, making me even more unhappy with my present situation - which can only be described as a blur, a gap in time, my time.

But it arrived so abruptly, this letter, disturbing the bland daily life I live. Monochrome and silent. Mouths move but no words are heard, for everyone has deaf ears. Save me, who sees nothing but this grayness, blandness, and I feel... I feel... Well, I feel absolutely nothing. What I touch, what I see, everything that should have some sensory-related response does not perform as it should.

I can walk on solid ground because I think of solid ground. And everything I 'touch' is like touching air because I thought of touching 'air'. The grayness around me is possible because I've eliminated - repressed - all the drops and bits and splashes of color I thought I didn't want.

But now I want it back.

And I got this letter in return.

The blue rose letter I've seen so often in my dreaming.

The blue rose letter that has so often led me onto the path of a capricious, authority abiding, submissive fool.

Yet it guarantees my salvation.

I've stared long enough at what I held in my hands. I bit my lip, breaking the seal as I lift the flap of the envelope. It suddenly felt heavy.

But first, what happened around me, the monochrome began to blur. The house I crafted from my thoughts slowly disintegrated, like a wisp of smoke. And though the 'solid ground' had disappeared, I had yet to fall into this devastating blackness - the result of repressing the colors I once held dear.

I proceed to remove the item in the envelope. It was an ancient key, designed after the windows in the cathedrals I liked so much, the ones in the pictures of the place in Europe I've always wanted to go to. In other words, an antique.

The envelope disappeared, burst into blue flames right before my eyes as I fell upon the ground clutching my suddenly pounding chest.

Burning, no, agonizing pain - I felt - was pushing against the bones under the skin. Breathing is hard. Seeing is hard. tears were spilling out like raindrops. And the thunder - my voice - echoed loud around me.

I closed my eyes to this pain, this noise, found that it simmered to a low thrumming - similar to a hummingbird beating it's wings until... There was peace.

The Wingless pt.1

2010-01-02T05:48:00.000-08:00

It was a box. A box with many locks. And inside were wondrous treasures, sleeping - waiting, for the day when light shines upon them once more. These treasures were quite capable of changing the world. Aware of the dangers, the horrors that could be, that might occur, there was no satisfying the curiosity that pricked this tired mind like needles.

Midnight

2009-12-23T02:02:00.000-08:00

I'm going to make an effort to post a little bit more. If not about me then about something else.

Who knows, I might start a spontaneous one-shot.

Midnight

Of day and night you change to a person you don't want to be.

Sad, for there is no reprieve, nor is there any exit as far as you can see.

Come toll, the midnight bell

Signal the change thou cannot quell

A person otherworldly brought on by delusion; an imaginary scene

Of whom vowed to protect thee, a promise made as if in a dream

Toll, toll, the midnight bell sings

A presence unwanted and wanted, but out it careens

Living among us in the everlasting world

Of delusions and illusions, as real as real can be

Attachment won't kill you (yet)

2009-12-20T17:22:00.000-08:00

What I've been dreading for this year and half of the next -- because I get out of school in June -- is that I'll never see the people whom I've hung out with (and just now as well)...but there are other worries that I need to document.

This is officially a vent as this has been something on my mind as of late --

I know that life will go on and all sorts of things but life sucks...a lot. Especially when you're not 18 and your parent insists that they hold your hand all the way, bribing you with the benefits of a job they have and the companionship of a woman whom I probably should despise...for being six years older than me...and being married to said parent. :|

I'm having my doubts people -- about that union (that's already documented and official) -- and it made me realize how much of a skeptic I am, or have grown to be.

As kids we listened and did as told. If there was something that caught our eye on the flashing picture square with little people in it (a.k.a the tv) we emulated them, or their likeness. And we thought nothing of it. it was just something we did and thought was right or felt good. That blindness, to the consequences, was something only a kid could do since they haven't quite developed their moral system. Someone had to do it for them, until they could think for themselves. Of my childhood I'll tell you this much:

1) I dressed up as a little princess and held a little party when the dad was away at work. The entree served was no entree but a tray of hastily mixed Quik mix. We gathered in my brother's room (one was living with us that time) and listened to the music of the game he was playing in the other room via receiver and radio. He was notably annoyed. When the time came for the dad to come home, I pushed my guests out the back door while I rushed out the front door, hid behind a dumpster, and (like a stalker) watched him walk from his car to the front door of the apartment. I don't know till this day whether he saw me or not (I was wearing a pink Cinderella dress after all -- it was for a life size barbie).

2) I put a chicken egg -- the ones from the carton -- under a bird plush toy to see if it would hatch. There was even a nest I made of cotton balls. I honestly thought a chick would hatch. When a considerable amount of time passed, I was impatient and cracked the egg open. I noted the white embryo and said that a chick was going to hatch from the egg eventually! If only there was more time... haha of couse not. I was so optimistic about it too.

3) There was a time when a brother and I made a dollhouse (a simple blocky two story one) out of yugioh cards, paper and tape. The windows were saran wrap covered squares and the carpet was some thin spongy stuff that was used to keep decorative objects in place on a slippery surface. Beds were the tops of small boxes stuffed with cotton and the pillows were the round things in jewelry cases to put rings in. The characters we used for this house (and even for chess and a tactics RPG like game) were little toys and figurines, like a mini Pikachu and even a little troll thingy with the hair standing up...among other knick knacks. The toys were leftovers of a very present-filled Christmas. I don't remember the little details of the house now, like how the hell lights were incorporated into that thing but lights were there. Too bad that it was destroyed (probably by him or by the mom, not sure, I don't want to ask). The time spent with this house was time spent away from the mom, who pretty much dominated the house. It was an escape when the video games were taken away.

Of the things I tend to remember from those years were negative visions of my mom (and dad, but mostly my mom) and the embarrasing moments that bring shame to me. I barely remember the fun things. It's always the bad things.

I've tried to think of something else, or not think about it at all, but when the subject comes as to how my life was basically screwed over and turned into a confusing living hell...well, I blame the mom. Then I blame myself because I blame someone who was going through some problems that I could never comprehend (but did she have to resort to hitting their kids or unusually punishing them for miniscule things?). Why am I doing this in the first place? Why should I think of my past if it bars me from moving forward? Living in the present...whatever happened to that?

What I've been asking myself... is this:

"What am I guilty for?"

I do not cling to faith. I am a skeptic. I trust very little but have a love for mankind and their advances. I also despise mankind for their flaws. It balances each other out. I believe that we are delusional in the sense that we give things, objects, ideas more meaning than they should have. And we blindly go along with it. I disagree with logic being rationalized by untouchable things, so demonstrated by math and lab science.

"What are numbers? What are particles?" I know particales are what makes us but we have to imagine that they're there UNLESS you have the tehnology to see them. As for numbers...well...I have nothing for that. Putting that aside, it teaches you to think logically and that certain things have certain answers, guaranteed answers probably, but that's just me theorizing.

Anywho, though I like what life has to offer (if you're willing to keep with the program) I don't see the point in it if we die and rot in the ground (or are burned to smithereens if you so prefer). (That's why people have "faith" for).

Isn't that called nihilism?

I don't agree with that too.

There is a point in life and that point is what you make it out to be. Your actions do do something to you and other people.

There's another -ism for this but I can't recall it now.

...
..
.
.
.

Vent aside. Ideas are abstract (and I prefer abstract ideas). But it'll kill you. It isn't real. You can't touch abstract ideas. You can keep creating it on and on and on and it'll never end. People will take whatever idea there is, from whatever source -- it doesn't matter -- and morph it to whatever they Will it to be. In a way, we are our own Gods. We govern our life and whatever path we take. We judge others and they judge us...to name a few. If it's so, there isn't any point to wallow in abstractions (to wallow in a false reality -- in our past since it exists in fragments of memory).

So...

Live.

Whatever happens happens -- just let it be and deal with it however your able with whatever you're already supplied with.

...but it doesn't mean that real life attachments can't "kill" you either.

It's all just a matter of time.

Just saying *shrugs*

Plans and Spam comments...

2009-12-10T17:08:00.000-08:00

First things first...

I put the word verification on...again after receiving spam comments that linked to porn sites. That is not okay with me at all. :| So, word verification for now (I don't like it myself) but it's working. I haven't been having spam as of late so I'm content. Someday, the WV will go away. Hell, I might take it off after this post to see if they post spam again -- shall report on that later.

Second...

It's really really cold in California and I could never be more happier about it, if only it wasn't a nuisance to bundle up in two sweaters and gloves -- it's even more annoying when you're walking and your ear phones fall off every so and so number of steps (because I walk home everyday and I walk very fast). My fingers feel like they're going to fall off every time I take off the gloves...and that the wind is mad at me since it's practically lashing out at my face :| Haha, what a bad joke. ^^

Thirdly...

I'm feeling somewhat better about the whole split persona thing. Turns out, I'm just delusional :D no, no, it's just me being confused and anxious. I'm not sure what about but it is confusion that's for sure. No point in me whining about it, but there are times where I can't help but do something because it bugs me.

For example today, in Art class, two people had to clean up after the whole table. We were working with water-based clay so there was residue that dried onto the table top. This was to be cleaned with sponges. Basically the girl who cleaned my side of the table did not do such a good job as the sponge was barely even wet so the residue was spread around in circles pretty much. And this was a black table so it was bad...like snail trails.

I litereally felt my eye twitching as it dried and, not wanting to lash out at the girl since she didn't want to do it in the first place, I got up and attempted to clean it. I cleaned it enough to make it less of an eyesore but it was not enough. My fingers were twitching then. Nervous habit. >> I couldn't even look at the other people at the table.

I guess I'm one of those people that have to have things in a certain way or else they won't function "right." It doesn't happen a lot though, only because there haven't been instances on this particular scale that happened before so I can't know for sure. (Or maybe I'll never know).

Fourth...

Silent Hill: Shattered Memories for the Wii is...a MASTERPIECE (for a game). :)

My god, I finished it last night and I cried (I got the good ending, I believe). The Silent Hill franchise rocks dammit. It just does. Sucks though that the main and most awesome composer ever resigned from the company, Konami, so there probably won't be any more SH games (just maybe). Whatever he goes out to do, the best of luck to him.

IMO, this is pretty biased since I'm a fan but, oh well. This is the interwebs after all. :)

download link

^ Just one of my favorite songs to listen to at the moment (I'm going to find a way to rip the soundtrack instead since I have it and all so I can share it with you blogging people).

Fifth...

I'm working on reviving Little Miss Murder. As well as something totally unrelated (but as more of a stress reliever).

I had some plans for that story, even though it is experimental in regards to story telling and something I did in my spare time. Mmm... I'm not too confident about the next chapter because of me being too technical with my writing lately so it reads out to be a bit cluttered (darn essays :) ) rather than smoothly as one would read a narrative. (Honestly now, since when did my narratives "flow?" I'm really not sure what expect from my writing. So far, I'm assuming that to be my style -- unorthodox -- since I can't plant my butt on a chair long enough focussing on one sing;e thing.) Blog posts are different since my mind is able to wander...like now.

I'll be looking over it some more before I make it official.

Sixth...

Winter break is coming up and it's going to be...cool (another pun?) My brothers will be coming over to visit and it'll be a videogame filled two weeks. That's going to be fun. :)

Also, I'm making a cookie pizza to bring for a potluck in Anatomy next Friday. Half chocolate chip and half sugar cookie. I'm not sure how that's going to taste/turn out but if it does, I'll make some mention of it...with pictures.

Stupid dreams...stupid me as always

2009-11-30T18:07:00.000-08:00

(I'm most likely going to write a one-shot about this later)

It's disturbing actually. In it, I was running away from the dark but I couldn't since it was everywhere and everything. Even if it was light out, there was always a way for the darkness to follow and scare me.

Put's a whole new context to someone afraid of their shadow...I guess.

Anyway, this is absolute nonsense. I can't stop thinking about it though. Everytime I have to go outside either it be the hallway or the restroom...anywhere! It..just creeps me out (creeps us all out) since whatever the hell is scaring me all the time is me (or another me, the me I don't want to remember because almost everyone I knew when I was that old me associated me with a certain scary movie that I absolutely can't stand).

It's ironic that I like scaring people (or surprising them in a way).

Haha, so I'm scaring myself. Karma, much? (Man, I'm screwed :p )

Argh, I'm so stupid sometimes. Who knows, my personas may stem from my immaturity and aren't really "real" and is my excuse to "relive my childhood." There's a lot of possibilities. Me being a delusional SoB is one of them.

(she/he wants to talk so I'm letting them -- and I did see one earlier tonight)

2009-11-29T01:21:00.000-08:00

Mother dear I saw a falling star
To-night I wished with all my heart
That you vanish forever

     Father dear I saw a falling star
     To-night I wished with all my heart
     That you are smashed into tiny pieces

          Brother dear I saw a falling star
          To-night I wished with all my heart
          That you rot from the inside out (to feed the insects, you see)

     Sister dear I saw a falling star
     (And what a marvelous sight)
     To-night I wished with all my heart
      That you live a thousand years before you return to dust

Ah me, did we tell ourselves that we saw a falling star?
(It streaked across the black in a slow gait -- was it even a star at all?)
To-night I wished with all my heart
That I die the most horrible death, for wishing the most vile things of people around me.

     I do not deserve to live
    (but I'm still here no matter how many times I wish I was not).

I don't like this game anymore.

I like Crunch bars...apparently

2009-11-01T11:42:00.000-08:00

To get that cosplay post out of the way...

How is everybody?

Just last week, first quarter ended so we had to rush on tests and the like. Surprisingly, I think I did pretty well, but you know how hoping goes (that later on you did worse than you thought). Then, three weeks later, right before Thanksgiving break (a week long break - huzzah!) we'll have a district assessment (and the three weeks after that and so on... I believe I've ranted about this before...if so, sorry for being repetitive). All in all, I'm not partial to tests.

To tell you the truth, there have been times where I could have blogged about something...but I chose not to (stupid me). I really should try to blog more...

It's (somewhat) unrelated, but it's funny.

The reason I haven't been blogging are two things: school and video games.

School is self-explanatory. This is my last year, everything has to be in order to graduate. This enables the imaginary Stress-o-Meter in my brain to rise, rise, rise...almost enough that the meter is at it's breaking point. Playing games helps, but that means less time for drawing and writing (well, I can't really say writing since I've been writing random ballads and poems, with some related to a particular story etc.).

I feel like I should delve more into the games I'm playing so I might do a post on that since I just finished playing Fire Emblem : Shadow Dragon. :| A loooot of things I want to rant about that...but that's my gamer side talking. :D He's angry, he's German, he's a gamer and he likes Crunch bars!/bad inside joke.

This could just be another figment of my imagination since childhood. The personalities I mean. Talking to yourself doesn't mean that there's another you, nor does it mean that you're crazy (doesn't it?).

Anyway, now you know why I'm anti-social (haha). I'll introduce you to these de-lightful people later when I figure out why they're here in the first place (and the reason besides, "They're here because I believe they're here."). Well, I'm off to be my own psychologist since there is no time (or money) to see a professional one.

Sorry if my first post back is a bit on the negative side.

Where I babble about Cosplay...and Life

2009-09-25T22:04:00.001-07:00

I can't remember when I last posted something not writing-related...

Well, school is going along okay. Also, I have been getting into poetry lately (because we're reading Beowulf in class) and that's certainly interesting. A lot of papers have accumulated since I wrote my first lyric poem and am thinking of getting a separate binder to put them in, instead of cramming it down notebook sleeves.

Here's some news: I'm going to be 17 next Saturday and I'm not sure whether I should be excited or...not excited. It's only a number but I'll be that much closer to being seen and accounted for as an adult (as it so happens, it's likely I'll have to buy insurance for myself soon - give or take several years since I plan to go to some college). And...frankly... I'm not liking that. Only because I'm still undecided as to what I want to do, well, I am (somewhat), but it seems more like a dream to me (by that I mean to draw or become an illustrator of some sort).

So yeah... I'm pretty anxious about it and no matter how much I try to not think about the future - just all the possibilities and all - I can't (or I obsess about how much I can't suppress the fact that I am worried).

But, to go to a lighter topic, Halloween is on a Saturday this year! I plan to dress up and possibly take pictures! After weeks of thought it's official that I'll be cosplaying this year as...

Miharu Rokujou from Nabari no Ou ( or Ruler of Nabari)!

I watched the anime and loved it. I'm planning to read the manga soon since the manga is always better and is much longer than the animation.

Anywho... It's going to be my first time cosplaying (though I doubt I'll be going to an anime convention anytime soon - b/c it's a given that people will recognize you and stuff which makes dressing up more enjoyable since you're around fellow fans).

Unlike some amazing people out there who make their own costumes I have to go shopping for the pieces - I've even changed the costume up a bit so it fits my body type. In the cosplaying world (yes, I've about googled my fill about this subject) specific details are a plus BUT because of my height - and the nature of his clothes (a bit loose up top since his body type - like most anime characters - is impossibly small and lean) I'm sure it'll look awkward if I had gray trousers with an oversized jacket. If it's anything, I've changed those trousers to somewhat short shorts and hopefully knee-length socks (or higher). So, it would almost be like the female version of him but also not because of this picture...

...yep.

Shopping around - got to keep to a budget you know? - is going to be a pain because I've made it mandatory on myself to assemble the pieces I already got/have (sweater, dress shirt) with the ones I need to see if it fits with everything else... I'm just wondering how I'm going to sneak the shoes in... >.>

In hopes of moving on from me talking about my costume it's a decent anime about modern ninjas. Way, way shorter than the ever-so popular Naruto and ten times more emotional.

And just mentioning emotional, I must mention as well that I cried (hence why I'm a fan).

All in all I liked it but it's not for everybody (like...boys for example because shounen-ai is hinted - boy's love - even though it isn't like that >.> well, not in my mind...not sure about everyone else).

Maybe it has a lot to do with a woman being the creator/ artist? (b/c it has that emotional element to it that's kind of downplayed in regular shonen stories).

What else to mention...?

Oh, I know it's autumn and all (hooray) but my room is still stupidly hot (and I'm not partial to heat). So I've been camping up in the parent's bedroom since it's much cooler - and I said this to explain why I haven't been on the computer much...at all.) I have been online for special instances however, like school stuff and updating my fictionpress account - just throwing it out there /fail

Right now, if it came up, I'm using my dad's laptop so thank it people because it made this post possible xD...and Kanye bites donkey-butt for his remark (now he's a meme - lol - but some people disagree it seems:)

From: urlesque
Yo, Kanye, I'm really happy for you. I'm gonna let you finish, but LOLcats had the best internet meme of all time! Oh, AND, Rick Astley is never gonna give you up!
by:// pepper - Sep 15th 2009

xD Anyway, I hope everyone's doing well - I can see you're all posting though! I wish I had some time to look over them but I have to get to work on homework - my anatomy class is oh so tedious (tons of notes, tons of drawings to go with the notes, and review questions that number to approximately 3 to 4 pairs of hands...at least!).

Okay...now back to looking up info on Beowulf for that essay...

K.WEST: YO, LAELAH, I'M REALLY HAPPY FOR YOU AND I'M GONNA LET YOU FINISH BUT GILGAMESH WAS ONE OF THE GREATEST EPICS OF ALL TIME!!

... /phael

Memes are hilarious.

Sunday Scribblings #177 - Adult

2009-08-27T23:15:00.000-07:00

...A short using some characters from "Ephemeral Wings"

“Luck be the Lady”

“Sarra,” someone said to the blonde, “sometimes you can't see what's in front of you if you don't open your eyes.”

“What? I can see just fine, thank you... Have you seen this yet?” She gestured to the side of the rickety carriage, her outstretched fingers catching every bit of the seaside air. “It's so blue...and vast! Though, I wonder what's beyond that horizon... When the sun sets, where does he go?”

“He?”

“Sharem, a sparkling angel, the angel of the setting sun...” She sat back, clutching her cloak about her, shivering.

After awhile, they queried, “What are your thoughts on heaven? I'd like to know.”

A smile graced her pale thin lips. “It's a warm place, a wonderful place where there is no suffering. A place where you go when you're tired.”

Curiously, they asked, “Are you tired?”

“No. Just sleepy. We've been on the road for three days, feels like we haven't gone anywhere though...”

“And...?”

“Except seeing the ocean again of course. This is the second time I've seen it... The first time. I remember being so afraid. It was, in truth, a very black day. Because of our born abilities we were pursued and imprisoned, sold. A few years passed during my imprisonment when the forces of the kingdom were torn asunder.” She paused. “Just think... Fighting your own people, how would that feel? Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that we were released but our escape wasn't easy. In those changed men's eyes was a dark power – I remember, someone I cared for very much tried to reason with one of the soldiers and the end result was his life. But it was also that same day when I was finally free. Meeting these kind people, these wanderers that took me in, I was so happy that I knelt and kissed the earth... Can you imagine it? A damp taste that lingers on your lips, the redeeming taste of rain and fresh soil – that was true freedom.

I do hope that he found that warm place. When I tire I want to see him there. It wouldn't be the same without him, plus, we made a bet.”

“Are you sure this friend wasn't a cheat?”

“He would kill you for saying that. No really! I mean, sure he gambled, but it was for entertainment... I'm positive.”

“Doesn't sound like it. Tell me about your friend then. The destination is still far off. We have plenty of time.”

“You sure are a curious stranger. I don't even know your name, nor have you shown your face. I don't see why I should tell you about him.”

The said stranger reached into the folds of his cloak. “Sure are a picky woman... Fine. Why don't we make a bet. Heads or tails. Tails, I'll tell you my name. Heads, you tell me about your friend. Ready – ”

“Wait! If it's Tails you have to show me your face. You can give me a fake name if you wanted to.”

“Heh. Smart move. Fine. Tails, I show you my face – ”

With the flick of a thumb, the coin spun high in the air. Sarra caught the gleam of silver, watched the stranger's confidant hands catch the coin and flip it face-down. How...familiar it all was.

“What is it?” Sarra managed a breath, a puff of air materializing in front of her. The stranger failed to move, sitting as still as a statue, hand clasped over the coin. “What's wrong?” she asked, suddenly aware of the ever lowering temperature.

“... Sometimes you have to open your eyes,” they said, “because you close them without knowing at times. It's a reflex of your conscience.” The stranger held out his clasped hands. “Will you risk it all on this one coin-flip?”

“What am I risking?”

“That is not mine to answer.”

The carriage shook violently. The once calm waves violently crashed onto shore, foam rising up and down the sand, engulfing any living creature. Thunder and lightning, like cymbals, roared in the heavens – signaling the coming of a grand maelstrom. Sarra peered outside, struck dumb by the weather, the suddenly dark atmosphere and the flag waving far down the road.

“Open your eyes,” the stranger said but she paid them no attention.

The flag was carried by soldiers on horseback – similar to those she had recalled not to long ago. Pairs of red eyes flashed through dark stained helmets, an acrid smell was approaching fast – iron and gunpowder. Loosening her grip in absolute terror, her cloak was torn from her body by the vicious winds. Lightning flashed quick, transforming the burgundy cloak to a bright glistening red –

Sarra...

“Have you found your answer?”

Are you alright?

The soldiers were mere meters from the carriage. She turned to find the stranger's hands open already.

Sarra...

“You said this was my decision – ”

“You decide too slow.”

“But still, you said – ”

“Crybaby. It's simple.” – he tossed the coin to her – “I cheat.”

With that, the stranger leapt into the maelstrom –

Hey...

Sarra...

Hello?

Wake up sleepyhead!

...

“She sure likes to sleep in...”

“Tell me about it...”

It was bright. Instinctively she covered her face with her hands. Instantly she felt a warm spot on her cheek. Blinking, it slid as she turned her body, pushing away the blankets.

“What is that?”

“Sarra?”

She paused, absorbing whatever information she could get from her dream... Delicately she held the coin in the sun, looking at it skeptically as though it might disappear any second.

“Sarra...Are you alright?”

Her voice was soft, on the verge of tears, “Tails... Double. I won.”

Seniority~

2009-08-27T17:02:00.000-07:00

Favorite song at the moment...

The Saltwater Room - Owl City

?!Por que?!

It's only been the second day and it's...great.

Here's my schedule:

1 - American Government/Drafting
2 - English 4
3 - Anatomy & Physiology
4 - Algebra II
5 - Art I/Economics
6 - Horticulture

* the classes after the / are the classes I'll have in the Spring Semester

Alright. I know I've mentioned something about me not being a Math person but it's really weird that a Senior should have Alg II in the first place. >.>

I have a theory on why I despise Math but I'd end up typing two or two hundred paragraphs of me putting my hatred/dislike of Mathematics in layman's terms. BUT, being that this is the only class I really need to focus on (since everything else, even English, is fairly easy stuff) that's enough to motivate me to even want to learn about stuff I may/may not use later on. :) I decided on Illustration as my major (finally decided and I feel better about it).

So, to my First Day of school -

I've covered the whole Mother Nature sabotaging me part in the last post so I'll just move along (so I can get some work done).

First of all, I almost panicked because I wasn't sure where my class was so I had to ask a teacher...and...wow. D: For that brief second, I was reminded of Grey, the protagonist from Year Zero. Of course, it was a tiny voice at the time but as I walked away I couldn't help but mentally slap myself.

You know on every first day, you look for people you know in your classes. Whether you want to or not, it's what you do. You can't help it since it is a new year and all. :) Walking in first period (and I wasn't tardy, woo!) I felt awkward. I mean, you see empty seats and a sparse amount of people and they're all looking at the doorway. But, fortunately, there was someone I somewhat knew and that made it better.

Second period, not so lucky. Though I do have some people from last year's English class but it isn't like I talk to them frequently.

After second, we have a ten minute break called Brunch... In which I met someone too (and that made me happy).

Third...was interesting. The teacher's kinda cool - like the intelligent-cool teacher everyone has mixed reactions about - though the introductory speech dragged a bit. And me, being a fool and sleeping two or so hours before having to wake up, was nodding off. That is the last thing you want to do ever when you have a teacher like this guy - there's that fine line between lenient and strict.

Fourth I coincidentally have the same teacher I had when I took Algebra II during Sophomore year. D: Yes. I have failed this damn class for two years straight but do take into account that some serious family crap was going on and I nearly bombed all my classes then. Sophomore year and partial of Junior year is something I'd rather not remember.

Anyways, pretty basic stuff... NOT. I'd hate to get all girly on you guys but there was this German exchange student who everyone (mostly the girls) freaked out over. (Damn my modesty or lack of caring/shallowness) Simply put, he was just really really pretty...for a dude. Not just that, he was tall and had a really deep accent. It sucks how many of the girls paid more attention to him than the Chinese Exchange student. I was also reminded of a character, who, if they lived here, on Earth, would probably be German...

After was lunch. It was a sad lunch. xD I walked around in the halls just looking for a spot to sit - and was perusing to see where my next class would be when... HOLY -- Sorry people, I have this fixation on awesomely styled hair (it's 'cause I'm strangely attached to my hair - it's fairly long now atm >.> it's something from my childhood when my dad used to cut my hair and it made me sad as to how straight and short it was always cut. It was also the era before I had bangs). But yeah... Sadly, I think I'm hated by this person (or just awkward on some levels - again, something happened between the both of us during Sophomore year - yep, right when I was feeling my lowest). We aren't on speaking terms but :) "Thank you" is what I'd say if I ever get the chance (like never)... Though I doubt they'll know why I'm thanking them.

So after, looking around, I found a good spot to sit, read some chapters of The Brothers Karamazov till the bell rang and along I went to...

Art class! In which the teacher was new and originally came from Germany with English as her second language. And people were rude enough to make fun of her without her knowing. It was just a lot of introductions again. I was hoping that we could do some drawing excercises - like shading, shapes etc. but that didn't happen. I was disappointed but today we got working (somewhat). I'm still nervous about drawing with people next to me though...

Sixth period is Horticulture...more like Landscaping. Fortunately, I am not alone. :) Fun times. We basically pulled weeds, raked, swept, hosed down windows... It's just awesome. Not to mention we get to plant stuff later on. I think it's epic that this is a year-long class! What a way to end the day right?

So there.

First days are always awkward. Actually any "First..." thing is. It's almost like it's built right into the word itself. There's the general nervousness, the excitement, the letdowns and the relief you feel after the day is done.

I may sound as if I'm talking/typing right out of my arse, but it's my last First day on the school I've attended to for three years. In those three years I actually liked this school. Also, it's somewhat reassuring that two of my half-brothers walked the same halls and fields. But now it's being torn down and redone. I feel that at the end of the year I will lose something and gain something in return. I'm unsure as to how large this thing I lose will be, I mean, what if what I gain and lose don't equal up? It wouldn't seem very fair.

Anywho, there's my fear for you. One of my fears. The other fear are the words I will never say to the people I will never, most likely never ever ever see again.

Oh and the answer to this riddle was...

A writer's notebook! /fail

An inability to sleep it seems...

2009-08-27T02:33:00.000-07:00

Look away! Aaah...it burns.... (damn the cuteness/creepy cat)

Hi people!

It's a record 2:35 am and it's officially the second day of senior year...
Fantastic...

But seriously, the first day went alright - better than I expected anyway being it my last first day (and it's a big deal since this'll be the last year before the school is entirely rebuilt and everything is shiny and clean and neat and "futuristic") - but it could've been better if Mother Nature didn't decide to pay me a visit on the same day. I would've been fine if it was...say...next week...but no. It just had to be this week and on that day - Wednesday (which I consider to be the butt of the entire week) - and I am abusing italics it appears!

Anywho, I'm going to try to sleep (I get an A for effort) and maybe tomorrow I can blog about my impressions. There were certainly some interesting things I noticed and such and such that I can't think of at the moment...

Till later today then! (if I don't fall asleep in the afternoon...again)

Undecided

2009-08-18T20:49:00.000-07:00

They're afraid of what they don't know. Humans are creatures of understanding, even the children. You, compared to them, Solan are a freak. You house items in a barrel chest. Your cylindrical shaped head only contains a thin-lipped mouth with no eyes, ears, nose nor hair. Like a mannequin you are—a doll if you may—only stouter in height and twice one's width. Your arms are also twice their supposed normal length reaching below the knees. The arm down to the wrist resembles a hose, while your hand is indeed a human's, it is not, with the middle and ring finger joined together.

“That's why they're afraid?” he said then.

Precisely.

...I have no idea what to say, guys...

Frankly, I'm stuck as to whether I should vent or not.

...
..
.

So, how is everybody?

Sunday Scribblings #173 - Nowhere

2009-07-30T20:09:00.000-07:00

For the SC prompt— Where in the world?

Mars was on the run again.

He previously decided to hide in a room, but despite it's normal appearance, it wasn't.

It was a quaint room with a crackling fire and plush sofas set around a coffee table. It was oh so similar to home that he made himself comfortable accordingly... Then things spoke. Even the most ordinary objects suddenly drew sharp breaths, scolding the very sight of him. They even went as low to criticizing him for having a face when only the Matriarch—if he recalled correctly—and her Knights were the only ones allowed faces. It was then and there that he decided to run for his life and not look back—

He was in a hallway, wide and empty. To the side of him were three-story tall windows, triangular-shaped, like arrowheads lined up a few inches apart. Each shimmered as if made of crystal, enhancing the sight of the garden behind it. Mars followed this path, hoping it would lead him to that garden. He hoped that entering the garden would end this terrible dream because that was how the majority of his dreams ended in the past—

He always ran, it seemed, always ran from something. If he were to look back, whatever landscape was left was encased in ice and the ice didn't show any notion of stopping unless it engulfed everything in it's path. And always there was a light he ran to, and beyond that light was the warmth of a garden in summer. Staring up at the sun in the sky, the blinding sensation subsequent to that would wake him...

The hall was unusually quiet, it had been for the ten minutes or so the second he darted out of that room—if not ten then something close to it. There was no way of telling time in this infernal place. Adjacent the triangle windows were rows of doors. And with those rows of doors—all equally tall but more narrow—were patches of bare wall. On those patches were clocks, all different sizes and shapes and colors, and all with no face, just the numbers and the second hand ticking away. All those monotonous ticks and tocks, put together with the patter of his feet on the polished floors—it all couldn't have been anything else but a dream!

A Riddle!

2009-07-28T13:20:00.000-07:00

"I know not what is ahead of me.
I am capable of understanding and time-traveling.
I am also bound by a twisted array of what's imaginary and real -
What am I?"

In which the writer speaks to her other self

2009-07-22T18:34:00.000-07:00

I must be crazy to start writing spontaneously from a list I made up yesterday. A total number of 32 titles - unless I add more of course. I call it the "Possible Title List" because I was thinking up of a good title for that vampire story (so far still unnamed). I said to myself, because I was getting possible titles for everything else BUT that story, "Why not write them out?" And I did.

One of those titles was -

The Castle of Cloud/Klaude/Klaude's Castle

So now you know why I had that piece up in the past post. Now for the angry part.

"Why did you start this now?!!?" *headdesk*

Now for the excuses part.

"Just to start writing so I can follow up with the unfinished chapters in the other stories."

Now for the "You idiot" part.

"Still, you should've left it as a one-shot, you idiot."

And then for the "Wait a minute" part.

"Wait a minute, it isn't like I knew it was going to blow out of proportion. Besides, it's for fun. It has no deadlines or anything of the sort."

"But so is everything else you started - except that one thing a year ago... Still. you should've waited maybe, or thought it over. Working on three stories while having to cough up drawings? What are you doing to yourself?"

"Doing what I love of course. Writing, drawing... I know it should matter because everyone else I know has their futures laid out for them while I don't. One's getting married, the others going to community college to study, another is moving out and another is probably going to go nowhere (no offense whoever I'm talking about, I'm pulling out examples from my currently dead brain). The uncertainty, of course it scares me, but I can't sit here and worry about things that don't exist!"

"Your point?"

"So... My way of coping - way of staving off the worrying - is to write what I've always wanted to write about, whatever comes to mind, whatever troubles I'm going through - every single thing that I see and hear goes into my writing somehow. It's the medium that I'm much more comfortable expressing myself freely."

"...you do know your setting yourself up for a great fall? Those worlds you've created, yes, those you hide yourself in, eventually it'll consume you whole and what will happen then?"

"That's why you're here. you can stop that from happening."

"But you don't listen!"

"Okay. Yes. I admit, I write sometimes on impulse -"

"Sometimes?"

"Hey, you've got to give me some credit now. I write because I want to and I can. Sometimes it's impulse, sometimes it's obligation or determination to see those chapters accumulate in your documents folder or get to a certain scene you particularly like."

"...okay."

"But talking about writing is so much more simpler than actually doing it. It's actually - everything, life, drawing, writing...not so much writing, just some specific stories are giving me trouble at the moment - starting to collapse, like the floor just...dissolved, or is dissolving slowly. I feel I need guidance, yet I don't want it."

"There's an easy solution."

"What?"

"Get out more. Walk the block - and not in your head or just down the stairs - actually go outside, wear pants and shoes and walk. The thing when writing, everything consumes you even if there is no specific rise in word count. The worlds, the characters - their voices, desires, loves and hopes and their fate - you hold them all in your mind and that wears you out. Before you know it everything mixes together, becoming a single monstrous entity that you carry like Atlas and the sky. So, mentally, you get crushed and maybe you can take the pressure but it eventually gets to you. You know your limits but even then you disregard that - thinking you're invincible - and push the envelope. And it's all for the characters."

"I love them all, shouldn't that matter?"

"Yes. but, love itself is like fiction. It isn't a physical like a person. It's an idea, an emotion - a character - and is malleable. It's definition is different for everyone and is used in different ways. Love is indirect. Adoration is a bit more closer to being clear with what you say. Think of it like this: Love is to Adoration; Beautiful is to Attractive; Movie characters to the Working man, you know, that guy working down the block at the construction site. You don't see them whistling."

"Now it's my turn to ask your point."

"Of course you love your characters. You made them. But you can't physically show them you care and vice versa. They don't exist so your love is, as it's multiple definitions, very empty. You're only saying it to give them more meaning."

"And...?"

"That'll kill you. You fear Death. I know you - I am you - and you don't want to die not doing anything."

"Sure. But the mad part of being a writer - the madness of being "brave" - is to face your fear."

"Oh. Right. Like being "brave" in writing is helping you in real life."

"Okay. I'll consider that -"

"It's true!"

"Alright. But I don't want to live in real life..."

"There's your problem."

"But it isn't like I know that. Since we're being honest, I envy everyone else who isn't missing out on...on whatever this time of our lives is supposed to be... BUT, I do not envy the things that some people do to themselves just to "live" among other teenagers. At least, what I'm doing, isn't so life-changing as, say, having a baby when you're seventeen."

"..."

"I don't want that kind of "real-life." My "real life" is different. Besides, this is summer. My last summer as a k-12 student. Next year it'll either be "college kid" or "freeloader." You'll just have to see - that's what everyone says."

"... Being uncertain is killing me."

"And I embrace being uncertain."

"This is giving me a headache."

"I know - I'm you remember?"

"Why the hell be a writer? There's the options of being an illustrator...or a psychologist. Ach, this ache is killing me..."

"Haven't I already covered that?"

"In a nutshell, please."

"I'm insane, duh."

Klaude's Castle

2009-07-22T13:02:00.000-07:00

I said I was going to write today so here I am trying to start it off with a one-shot (or something of the sort). There will be an actual blog post soon (if I manage my time right). So here you go, a story written right on the spot out of a list I have of titles along with their possible stories.

. . .

Klaude's Castle

Act I, Scene I

Where the heroine dreams up a name.

There's a land far from our reach where magical entities reign. Where people are able to harness such energies as their craft and other such entities created by magic are the norm. Those people are called magicians and this world is called Acadia. Though each individual has these powerful elements under their control, they are given a set of rules to follow.

Some are plain ridiculous, such as:

1. No wooden houses, furniture, or other perishable (burnable) objects allowed in public or in the home. If one desires to have such objects in their possession, one must file for a permit (in which a fee is administered, for the permit and for how many objects of such perishable nature are under the owner's possession). If one were to be found with perishable objects, they shall be fined - 1,000 crowns worth for every single piece (that includes wooden chips).

2. Do not run with staves or any such magical object with a temper (translated: do not run with magical objects in public - if you're by yourself that is fine (but that too isn't recommended)).

3. No enchanted pointy objects (like scissors - unless you are a hairdresser).

And the list goes on and on... But, there are some rather serious rules too. For example:

1. Absolutely no descending to Mortal grounds without a specific reason filed to the Council. Everyone (of considerable status) is given one day (seven in Mortal time) for the entire year (once every 52 days). If and ever that time is not enough, you must have a permit (and reasonable answer/request as to why).

2. No consorting with the Mortals or bringing one along. You will be arrested and the Mortal will be executed.

3. Absolutely no displays of magical power when among the Mortals. You will be arrested and convicted for Treason (meaning, you will be executed no matter what).

And that list goes on as well.

But that list is nothing to the Mortal world, nor do they acknowledge the fact that such a list exists. They do know that there is a certain magician (for the magical world they are somewhat aware - awareness has been going down since the Resurgence) causing trouble in the land and that there might be the Mortal world's prince held captive there, stolen from the castle a year or so ago. And as the Queen bore two sons, the other prince is safely guarded while numerous armies sought the magician whenever he decided to appear.

This business however, is unseen by the Council (who are, ironically, supposed to be able to See everything) and goes unattended. Normally, this would be a cause for concern if only, say, their world was in the midst of a war... And they, coincidentally, were.

Magicians, in truth, had no interest/business with the Mortals but this magician made it his business for reasons unknown. Besides staving off the armies on a semi-regular basis (or anyone that was sent or willingly volunteered - the fools) the magician roamed the lands in his equally moving castle (or floating castle since it's enormous shadow could be mistaken for the clouds constantly present in the sky).

No one knew the magicians' name - not his real name - but he was definitely a man, and quite a looker by rumors and such. Others said he was ugly, grotesque, a despicable man who liked to drink as much as he liked the young women. Then there were those that said he was absent-minded, a dreamer, someone who rarely smiled but if they did then your heart would stop in an instant - it doesn't help when the women are the ones gossiping about this peculiar magician but rumors are rumors and should be considered...to an extent.

This, all of this, she knew. The list, the existence of the world beyond and of the magician. She also knew of the captive prince and of the war - she believed the theory that the clouds were there because of the war - and she knew something about this magician that the others didn't (though she herself did not know the importance of it).

This magicians' name was Klaude - pronounced as one would say "cloud" - and she found this out in a dream.

Remember when I said I wasn't going to post cat pictures...

2009-07-21T17:33:00.001-07:00

...yeah.

So I spent the whole afternoon fixing the blog up and I needed a cat picture to cheer me up (that is my excuse).

Yes. I was going to write - I even planned on it and had all my notebooks and docs out - but I underestimated the power of the blogger template and I couldn't rest till I had just the right one (or close to it).

...Currently I'm tired :) and should've slept a long time ago.

That'll be all (I hope) for the blog re-vamp (for a considerable amount of time that is). >.>

There's no nav bar! I had to take it out or else the template wouldn't look right. Click on blogger instead.

In which I'm a bit overwhelmed...

2009-07-18T20:36:00.000-07:00

...and am lazy enough to not think of a more imaginative title.

So I'm sitting here thinking of a rant I could type up. A few seconds later, I change my mind - "who would want to read a rant," I query, "I do doubt that I'll make much sense." So this won't be a rant (hopefully) - and it's not directed at anyone here either (many of my rants aren't anyway). :)

Sunday Scribblings #172 - The Plan

Why not write? Just write.
Technical terms literally cramp my style - my voice -
You're killing Art did you know?

Overly literal
Overly realist
Sometimes over-thinking situations can land you in the gutter - how very sad -

To you
From me
A present of everlasting scorn - Happy Birthday -

Here's my broken piece of Art
wrapped all nice and pretty and scented of the most pleasant smell -
It's just what you wanted isn't it?

Loosen up
Chill out
Make the best of your time instead of moping about -

Quit marching around -
only one of the many participating in Their Grand Plan -
Get the hell out of that gutter and move the way you want to

We all have a song, a beat, we move to
We may not agree but we walk a similar path -
Don't ask questions about Art

Just Do It.

I suppose I'm fairly upset because 1) I keep writing for ch.7 of YZ but it FAILS every single time and I have to start over 2) I'm caught between wanting to draw because I've got some people counting on me now (three or four - including myself since that was my first career choice) 3) It's super, super, super HOT and dry and we're trying to save electricity by not turning on the AC.

I'm caught between a crossroads and I'm not sure what to do. One side says write, the other says draw, going forward means I'm stalling till I get to another crossroads and, who knows? That might be the last time I get to stall my way through? *sighs*

Anywho, I found this site where a published writer gives advice (here). I thought it was pretty helpful. :) Oh. And here's something I'm reading at the moment.

One last thought - I was thinking of starting a sketch blog of some sort. you know, take pictures (or scan but mine isn't working) of things that were drawn and post it for everyone to see. I really do draw a lot but never upload them to sites like deviantArt if it isn't finished in some way. And I do not like uploading sketches either - it looks like crap since it's like an online gallery/portfolio.

Ah, there's my thoughts for tonight.

In which I talk like a pompous dolt.

2009-07-17T16:01:00.001-07:00

I keep springing these cat photos don't I? On the next post I'll try not to place a cat photo - note I said try.

Another break - again - since all I seem to do with my free time is watch Comedy Central (it's one of the few channels available for some reason) and write. Okay, so maybe I read here and there and do other human stuff - but, nevertheless, it is somewhat boring (when I put it this way).

Despite my mind wandering off into the various worlds on paper/monitor, there isn't a lot I can say/show before people freak out.

Act 1 -

In which I answer the question honestly.

"So what did you do this weekend?"
"Hmm, let's see. First I interviewed a psychopathic serial killer. Then I killed some people after breaking into their houses at, what, 3-4 am - can't remember - anyway, chopped the kid up, sewed'em back together... Ehh. Let's see, what else? Oh! I also managed to go to the airport, get seriously bored, troubled, then board the plane -"
"... What?"
"The plane thing? Oh I'm trying, honestly, but my handwriting's crap - can't read a thing..."
They leave.

Act 2 -

In which I give myself less credit and answer in half-truths.

"So what did you do this weekend?"
"Ate, slept, drank and wrote like hell on my computer till it was five in the morning."
"That's nice."
"Indeed."
"Anything else? Did you ever go outside maybe?"
"I think I did but I can't remember."
"Ookay... I'll see you later."

There has to be something wrong when you fail to recall the last you went outside - or, fail to mention it (or forget to and remember it a second too late)... >.> So answering in half-truths has become a habit of mine, at least when I talk in person.

You consider things like what is being talked about and from that you can guess what not to talk about when you're around them or you just know instinctively (randomness is okay! ...in small doses esp. if the person is naturally serious). When asked a question you answer knowing what would be right and wrong and all that stuff. >.>

This over-thinking thing makes me feel awkward because then I have nothing to say that they want to hear. I'm just the strange brooding person sitting far far away laughing to herself because one of her characters said something funny... >.> Now isn't that nice? Lol.

But I'm probably doing that because wherever I go I have my stories in mind - even when I'm in the company of friends and family - people in general - I have my eye out for things like traits of their appearance and/or character or maybe things I might be able to use (like window shopping). When and if I ever get to say... some place I've never been to before, I'd probably take a good look around and take pictures of the places and avenues where such and such character might go - or if one of those places looks like a place in a story. In fact, that's the only reason why I bring a camera along. :) I think taking pictures of people is generally creepy (if you don't know them) and scary (because of my tendency to over-imagine scenarios like their faces changing to something else).

That's the writer talking. If I was...a photographer I wouldn't have a problem with pictures because I would have a different mindset. >.> But if I was still creeped out by faces I'd make it an art to take out their faces or take pictures of flowers instead.

I'd like to spend more time musing and going several directions with these thoughts but wandering isn't going to do me any good. I said that I'd try (again) with ch. 7 of YZ because it keeps coming out wrong (maybe if I change the layout of the text document) and also work on ch. 5 for LMM since there's a part where I'd like to get to.

That is all true (hopefully) because even when I'm blogging, I have to consider the readers and whether my rambling won't offend in some way.

Next time... I might have to define blog. It's been a year or so since I started this blog or started blogs in other sites (which is something I could address as well) and even now I'm still unsure on WTH a blog is.

I believe that was a warning, an implied one for that matter since I go overboard sometimes (sometimes). >.<

Back from the hospital!

2009-07-15T17:09:00.000-07:00

So this past week, I've been lamenting over my sore arms.

On Monday was my physical exam - on which I was told I needed a total of five injections. On that day I got three - two on my left arm, one on the right - and for the whole day I was tired (not to mention it was unbearably hot). And today I got the last two and you know what? That HPV shot hurts like hell! What? Do they use a larger needle? D: Anywho, I'm done ranting about that.

That was pretty much what I wanted to say as for today.

Well that and I'm sleepy. Later I'll check out everbody's posts and reply to comments - all that stuff you know. :)

...That was a pretty useless post.

Creepy angel statues are my friends...

2009-07-11T22:27:00.000-07:00

A very image heavy post...and the pictures are big (the ones I took so don't bother clicking if your computer's known to be slow).

Haserot statue somewhere in Ohio I think... Click for original source

I don't know about you but cemeteries and statues fascinate me. If ever I went into a cemetery (which I have) I would take my camera...but I'd rather not. People might think it disrespectful (and it probably is)...

The perspective...

I've always liked angels too. Just thinking of people who could fly...? Pretty neat stuff. Anyways, I'm taking a break again. Chapter 7 of YZ is really getting to me even if I had it all written out - yes, my writing is semi-terrible but readable (it sounds retarded so don't even bother reading it >.>)

I finally put a shot of my writing up! I've been meaning to do this for awhile.

So why do I have pictures up? Well I finally found the usb cord for my camera so here's some more pictures - like my desk >.>

Post-its!!! And miscellaneous junk in the back. And no, Waldo isn't there but that sounds like a good idea.

A close up of some sorts...and my awesome purple/mauve pencil. It's name is Callie. Say hi.

I like cats... lol and the mouse has dirt on it...eew *cleans it*

So there you have my desk...now for my desktop -

It's fairly cluttered...lol and chapter 2 of LMM is finished already.

And now my desktop wallpaper (featuring a random doodle and excerpts from the Heaven's Night one-shot) -

I thought it was cool and I was bored. >.>

Now for some LMM stuff because Luna's "Shameless self-advertising" section on her blog inspired me (which has nifty icons that link to her stories - as you can probably see on my sidebar). I took pictures and...you'll see. Again, when I should've been typing ch.7, I focused on LMM. >.> no worries, after this, I'm typing at least a page or two before I sleep...

Hey, it's Haserot again...and my writing. I write like that to scare people. >.>

That...took awhile just posting all this up. >.>

Sunday Scribblings #170 - She

2009-07-09T22:21:00.000-07:00

For the sake of something not as long-winded as the last post - It was unexpected but I suddenly wanted to explore some Victorian era stuff. Try and figure out who the narrator is. :)

She was all many hoped to be.

A beauty of fair skin and fair hair, tender caresses and a voice comparable to the lutes of the angels. She too had eyes of the ocean, dark and mysterious and wise and intelligent. She had a strong countenance, poise, and the inbred honor many coveted and desired.

There was a slip in her armor, a little hole - a pinhole if you will - right in the middle of the chest. This hole led to her heart, but even then, there were a series of locks in order to fully access it all. But her heart was a puzzle, designed for only a certain somebody of her choosing. I figured that out because I solved it. But I wasn't the one who was supposed to solve it. It wasn't my right.

In the shade of night, she was sorrowful.

Despite her light appearance in public, she seemed a different person come nighttime and I would follow the fair lady because I was worried - fair ladies shouldn't go out at night. Of course, I wasn't the one she wanted to solve the puzzle so I let her alone to her business, watching wherever she went a good distance away before silently escorting her back to her house. I watched till she drifted to sleep.

Of course I would never gossip about the fair lady, I was too busy being worried. And every night she would go somewhere and return in the wee hours of day. And every time she returned, she had a tremendous look of sorrow and longing. But when the sun rose and the lady was prim and proper, resigned and studious, the looks weren't the least bit visible. Still, as much as that reassured me, it was only temporary. The look come one sunrise, remained, and she would constantly wake sorrowful and teary-eyed. So now I had to bring it to myself to never leave her her out of my sight.

She was a puzzle.

Of the days that followed my horrendous revelation, the pinhole remained but her heart became more confused - the puzzle much more complicated then before. There were new little twists and turns, areas or doorknobs that lead to nowhere in particular, and certain sections of complete darkness where you had to tread further till light was restored. But, even after all that, I was not the one the lady wanted to be the one who solved the puzzle so I resumed as before, keeping my distance, watching and worrying.

It was important for a lady of her status to maintain appearances, and she suddenly began neglecting that. Her social obligations sooner were no more worth to her like a coin to millionaire. I was fearful. The puzzle too grew even more complex, springing little traps meant to keep out anyone else but the person she wanted to solve the puzzle. She kept a blind eye to me. It simply wasn't my right.

In the luminous sun, she was sickly.

There was grand talk about her and she fainted and was carried home. I followed and watched her rest as motionless as a corpse. But the fair lady was alive and well, only weak and needing of much rest. I was surprised as to how the news of her fainting spread like wildfire. Of course, I was angry but I daren't hurt the lady in her current state. Sometimes acts of reckless abandon never helped. Right then the puzzle gained another curious layer that, just like her armor, had that pinhole point of vulnerability.

In the nighttime, the lady stirred, looked at the clock and dressed for the nightly venture. As much as I wanted for her to stay and rest, I daren't interfere. She was pale as a ghost. Storms ravaged her once peaceful oceanic eyes, and her stature was similar to that of an old woman in need of a cane. The shawl she usually wore was askew, and her fair hair too was unkept and wild. There was anger or resignation on her face, but I knew she wanted to burst into tears and hide away. And again, I was not the one to solve the puzzle. It appears as though she had forsaken me all together but I kept on, trailing her in the shade, awaiting her return. It did not happen.

She was dead.

She who many wanted to be,
She who stood straight and tall,
She who looked upon others with fairness,
She who was birthed honorably,
She who was raised nobly,

She was dead.

And she died a woman in the dark, resigned to her fate. A supposed "fallen woman" because of her high birth. And even then, in those last moments, she kept her eyes averted from me - I, the only one who had the key to her suffocating heart. She passed away an ignorant woman.

Still, though she scorned me before death, I watch over the fair lady's grave and tend to it when the need arrives. And as her heart was a mystery to others, the news about her spread and was extinguished as quickly as one's cold breath in winter. Day and night, I tended to her grave. Day and night, I realized how her heart kept it's hold on me. Day and night, I reminded myself that I vowed never to leave her side.

Ever had one of those moments...

2009-07-09T21:13:00.000-07:00

...where your muse takes you rollerblading? But you have no idea how to roller blade so your muse lets go of your hand and you crash into a big wet pile of leaves? Though you can't deny that while your muse was with you, you were enjoying the ride. You know...the wind, the breeze, a feeling similar to flight - cloud nine - before you realize that you don't want to move your knees else you'd lose balance and fall.

Well, after that fall, you're exhausted. And if you didn't have knee pads you'd have nicked your knees, or if you skidded across the neighbor's lawn, you'd have grass stains - or both. All in all you're tired and beaten, fumbling with the straps of the confounded contraption on your feet, and you curse for it seems that your muse has ditched you so it wouldn't appear to be the one at fault.

So where does that leave me?

Late last night, my muse gave me those roller blades. It was a fun ride that lasted...hmm...from sometime past midnight to 7 or 8 in the morning. And what I got was chapter seven in longhand and a sense of accomplishment for finally starting and finishing it.

So I closed the notebook and decided to sleep. Didn't work out. I ended up getting something to eat and later drank a gulp or two of sour milk... *shivers* Terrible stuff (and it wasn't even past the expiration yet). So I settled for oatmeal, after washing down the milk with flat coca-cola (it was better than nothing) and returned upstairs where I watched the news and Dr. Katz. Interesting morning? Quite. Later I turned off the television, opened the blinds (it was surprisingly cool and windy today) and read several chapters of Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones before finally sleeping.

...And here's something I should mention, yet I shouldn't, then again I feel I should.

I read aloud with the stereotypical British accent. Actually, whenever I talk (and there were instances at school) that accent slips out sometimes and I'd get these confused stares or laughter or questions. >.> Anywho, reading in that accent was kind of appropriate since...she was a British author...but anyway, it was a fun morning. BUT, I was told to wake up "early" because that day I had to go and get my senior photo taken...which led to my mother and I going around town to eat something, window shop and watch Year One (the one with Jack Black and Michael Cera) before heading home with dinner and a smoothie... Of course, I wasn't totally zombified due to lack of sleep - there was a time where I hadn't slept for thirty to forty somewhat hours and I was as lame as a manila folder taped to a beige wall...

So it has been a full day and I'm going to read in my faux accent and sleep - and then type out the chapter starting tomorrow.

And for some personal thoughts...

Lately I've been yearning to return to my fantasy writer self and have, all during Year Zero, been dabbling with the world of a project I started in middle school - the title of my blog - Ephemeral Wings. I suppose it's my life project because it was the first serious thing I tried to do after writing a horrid fanfic and even more terrible beginner stories... But now, after years of contemplating and putting it off because it just didn't seem original enough.... I started writing a few days ago and found myslef more involved and in love with the story.

And then, with that love churning out more ideas and making me type, I realized that that story would have to have sequels. Then that led me to Year Zero and that it too would have to have a sequel to it too since there are certain characters I want to explore. But I suppose I'll have to ask the readers about that - if they would like a full out sequel or one shots regarding a single character (good thing Wordpress has polls). But that's far off in the future...

Then that led me to the vampire story - but that won't have a sequel, oh no - but it became a longer project when it was first conceived in the dregs of summer 07.

And then there are the other projects under my belt - especially one a friend/fellow author suggested.

As I list everything out it all sounds plain overwhelming and stressful and complicated with all these characters wanting their story told, but, the more I laid out Ephemeral Wings and the more I worked on Year Zero, the more it became apparent to me that some of those characters were merely a deviation of the original characters I planned for my original story. And with all the years of not working on it, those characters changed and made their own paths the more I read and drew, taking in differing influences all the while.

So, in the end, there might not be a lot on my plate after all. I'm learning to choose my battles carefully now because I thrived on what was "in" at the moment.

Here's a visual -

Holy crappleberries Batman! It's a three-slayer cake! nom nom nom?

I am cannibal cake no more! Huzzah! *laughs in a triumphant and dramatic way*

...That cake is pretty creepy but it would be awesome to have one just like it one day.

Laelah 101

2009-07-07T06:36:00.000-07:00

All right so on the last post I asked for questions and here are the answers -

From Mmm Bunnies:

What's the timespan for Year Zero?

Technically two months for the main events - it starts in mid-May, goes through the whole of June and ends a couple of weeks in July.

What is your favorite color?

Purple, white, gray, red, blue... Cool colors mostly but purple has been my favorite ever since I started using crayons.

What do you usually wear? (Ex: Jeans & t-shirt, dresses, leotards, etc.)

Comfort is what I think of first both outside and at home. Outside I normally wear jeans (not that I have much of a choice since I live in a male-dominated household - has six step-brothers, seven if you count the adopted one who lives abroad, and two step-sisters who also live abroad) and loos shirts or tank-tops with a jacket/sweater. I do like girly clothes and would like to wear skirts (the long kind since it's tedious when you have to buy pants) or dresses so I settle for camisoles. And on my good days out or to school I wear blouses with the sleeves tucked to the elbow.

Where do you find your user avatar/icon/thingies?

Here mostly and sometimes here. Or I crop pictures - but that takes a lot of time and I'm lazy.

Random-ass questions pulled of the internet:

When are you most alert? Morning or night?

Nighttime. I'm fairly nocturnal come summertime. Plus, I like the eerie silence sometimes - though creepy - it's soothing. plus, people are less likely to bother you about anything... Though you have to watch out for those dark hallways though...

Do you prefer to be inside or outside?

Depends. If it's hot, I'll stay inside. If it suddenly began to snow or rained, I'll go out for a walk or two around the neighborhood. I don't get out much so I prefer inside naturally. Now, if it wasn't such a hassle to go outside I would go out more frequently (not that there's much to see).

At what temperature are you most comfortable? When you are hot, cold, warm?

Warm. But it depends too, especially if it's winter you'd want to be warmer. If it's hot you'd want it to be cold. :| I'm indecisive and it's become habit to assess both situations.

Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?

Closed... Don't want things to come out there you know? >.>

Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel?

...No. But my mom's been known to do that. I think there's a bag full of them tucked somewhere...

Do you like to use post-it notes?

I do. In fact I've been using sticky notes to help with outlines for the chapters and such. The bright colors help me focus on that needs to be done.

Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?

A bear. A big rolling bear. I can't stand bees or insects or anything with more legs than necessary. Hell, bees fly too. Who would avenge me after they fly away? Actually, how?!

Do you always smile for pictures?

With braces? No. But it's getting easier. I actually want to smile and laugh in public without covering my mouth. >.>

What is your biggest pet peeve?

Probably people slamming doors/cabinets/drawers of any kind. Even moreso than my dislike for annoying pushovers...

Do you ever count your steps when you walk?

I've tried and got distracted, then tried again. I ended up forgetting the number I left off on when I turned around to see the other end of the street.

Do you ever dance even if there's no music playing?

If I'm in a good mood...I might do that but stop immediately because I know how silly I look.

Do you chew your pens and pencils?

Nope. That's another pet peeve. You let someone borrow your pen/pencil and then they return it with bite marks... I let them keep it. I'm not really a germaphobe. I just don't like having something that was once in someones mouth or gnashing at it with their teeth - my imagination tends to overreact about these kinds of things.

What is your Song of the week?

The Used cover for Burning Down the House by Talking Heads. The original sounds so...weird. Loved it after watching Transformers 2 with friends... It was an all right movie. >.>

Do you still watch cartoons?

Heck. Yes. But not so frequently atm.

What movies could you watch over and over and still love?

Silent Hill, Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle...a lot if I had the time.

Can you change the oil on a car?

I can try. I've seen my dad enough to not try it for myself.

Ever gotten a speeding ticket?

I don't own a car so no.

Ran out of gas?

By being literally exhausted that you can't move anymore - then yes.

Favorite kind of sandwich?

A friend made me try this - it was just lettuce, cheese, ham, in halves of a croissant. Good stuff.

What is your usual bedtime?

...Lately, sometime deep in the morning hours.

Are you lazy?

Must that really be answered? >.>

Afraid of heights?

Used to and now I can enjoy rollercoasters! Woo! *half-hearted smile* Another pet peeve: rollercoaster pictures. You're caught up in the moment and your screaming face is caught on a camera and is shown at the end of the ride... What is riding a rollercoaster supposed to be glamorous?

Sing in the car?

I have.

Dance in the shower?

...Tried.

Dance in the car?

Kind of nicked my elbow that time and I suddenly felt dizzy.

Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

A florist. Then I wanted to be a psychiatrist before I changed to psychologist. Then an artist for my writer friend. And then I wanted to be a writer. I changed again but this time to an Illustrator (but that doesn't seem to be working out). And now I'm back to just writing. It's too stressful to think about what you're going to be doing in the future.

Do you believe in ghosts?

I don't, yet I do. Either way, anything dead or anything we perceive as dead is creepy.

Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

Too many to count.

Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

Holy... YES. >:-|

Take a vitamin daily?

Yep.

Wear slippers?

Absolutely. You try wearing fuzzy socks (this was during winter) and walking on a wooden floor. It almost never ends well.

First concert?

A Britney Spears one with my cousin who didn't want to go alone. It was fun and it was a school night too. For the rest of that week I was so exhausted that I couldn't hold a pencil right.

Ever won a spelling bee?

In the fifth grade... They tried to trick me with a silent letter I think. I was so nervous.

Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

Plenty of times. I also cry when I laugh really hard. It gets worse when they join in because I won't be able to stop laughing!

Who would you like to see in concert?

The Used, Muse or Nine Inch Nails... That'd be awesome.

Can you swim well?

Just barely. I can float as long as I don't panic... *panics then drowns* I stay at the shallow end only because I have issues with deep water.

Are you patient?

Yes but I snap at times and it isn't pretty.

Do you want to get married?

Not sure yet.

Do you have kids?

o.o No.

Do you want kids?

>.>'' Still undecided...

Do you miss anyone right now?

Now? I can't really say no so sure why not? I miss a lot of things.

Wee! A Personality Test!

Apparently my personality type is:

Quiet, reflective and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which they strive to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless a strongly-held value is threatened. Usually talented writers. Mentally quick and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.

Some careers that would fit me are:

Writers, artists, counselors, social workers, English teachers, fine arts teachers, child care workers, clergy, missionaries, psychologists, psychiatrists, scientists, political activists, editors, education consultants, journalists, religious educators, social scientists.

I'm more:

Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling and Perceiving.

How strange that that personality test got me spot on. o.o Okay, that was a lengthy post... Will probably post something else soon but now, sleep. *dozes on the keyboard*

Post numero 100 - Ask me something! (by next Monday)

2009-06-27T00:11:00.001-07:00

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

2009-06-25T20:19:00.000-07:00

Picture tortured by me in photoshop. Original artwork by Chris Anthony - more info here

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 -

love me. hate me. abandnon me. seek me out in the everlasting darknes -
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.

love me. hate me. abandnon me. seek me out in the everlasting darknes -
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 -

giulty

My, that doll has to learn how to spell.

Secret Letters

2009-06-25T19:10:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-24T14:19:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-19T23:51:00.000-07:00

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) -

"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

2009-06-19T12:27:00.000-07:00

++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.

i dreamt of a town...

2009-06-18T21:27:00.000-07:00

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.

finally

2009-06-18T15:59:00.000-07:00

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?

I think I did fairly well today

2009-06-17T19:33:00.000-07:00

(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) >.>

Human Racing - St. Vincent

2009-06-13T10:24:00.000-07:00

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... :|

totally uninspired and half dead

2009-06-11T20:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-05T15:19:00.000-07:00

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...

the cruel old woman

2009-06-04T19:16:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-06-03T16:45:00.000-07:00

Not feeling any better today...feels as if my heads about to explode. :|

Of rants and poetry and aquariums

2009-06-02T00:05:00.000-07:00

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:

"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... :|

YZ0

2009-05-31T15:05:00.000-07:00

Hey guys, just a short post today saying that I took up Luna's idea (Mmm Bunnies) from this post and started a Worpress site for it. The first chapter is up so feel free to read it. Since it's on Wordpress and I'm updating via their nifty Pages option (which, you've got to admit is pretty cool) I'll mention on my posts whether I've posted the next part and whatnot.

Year Zero or YZo (for short)

Besides that, I'm feeling pretty good (I guess) compared to yesterday/last night. All I can say is that I felt a bit frustrated.

So, there you go, and I know, for sure, that this one will follow through to the end because I have it all worked out. Wish me luck because I might have jinxed myself there. :)

Heaven's Night—"There's still happiness"

2009-05-28T21:11:00.000-07:00

Uncertainties & shaky hands
make for a nervous gait
but who's eyes broaden upon the lands
searching for the road to Dream

Another SongPost just for fun. :) And because I like linking stuff even if I've linked them before (check post True). Not a lot is going on and I've been reading about the USSR like crazy for a History paper and other things and the information is kind of overwhelming but it's all good. Just found out I might be going to Canada this summer... More characterization and sad stuff *hits self b/c she can't write anything not sad and depressing*. Darn Silent Hill music. I love it so much.

xD Can you tell I'm trying to avoid using the character names?

+ + + Heaven's Night—"There's still happiness"

The Heaven's Night festival was held on this one day of the year where everyone, since this being a very small town, would gather in the highest clearing, yards from the town. It was called "One Star Hill" because of the myth that a star fell there long ago in the past that made the land what it was. The town's name isn't that special and has had a history of conquerors and battalions trampling over this land for the people beyond—those that have reason to call trouble like that, the ones with fortifications and riches beyond us peasants. As a whole, this town has been rebuilt over and over all because of the motto the council chose thusly: In somnis veritas or "In dreams there is truth."

It was said that this town was the epitome of dreams, where you are able to dream because how this town functions looks all so simple...from the surface. But I'm not saying that I know how and what the council deals with on a daily basis but everyone that lives here has so much pride and hope for this tiny town...

Dreams. Hope. Heaven's Night... All make me think of fairytales. Can this town, it's civilians; is this all a big fairytale? If that's so, let it stay that way, if not for me then for everyone else.

The street on which I walk now, the narrow paved path with quaint dusty brown buildings lining the sides. Steel and iron painted a shiny black were the lights that appeared at so-and-so interval of pavement, baskets of greenery and fragrant flowers brightening the path. The sun was just setting so the lights themselves were being lit one by one as I walked past this all too familiar road.

Many people I knew passed me by, all huddled close with their companions and shivering in their coats and gloves. Though enamored with their lover or in a heated conversation, they gave me a short glance before turning away. Smiles, small and maybe even hopeful, were etched on their faces. I knew what they were thinking about. I knew that they knew where I was going, who I was visiting; they'd seen me far too often. I blushed, pulling my cap down at the same time.

The more I walked, the more and more empty the street became. Buildings began to disperse as wider, loner snowscapes met my eye and trees spotted the white all around me. My hands in my pockets I continued this dirt path, trudging on the incline. A carriage just passed me by; I heard the whistling and chugging of a train in the distance. It was close now, the house, though a bit near the mouth of the woods, gated but tiny—a cottage. The husband worked in the town, the mother stayed at home, she stayed at home as well, save for the occasion of school.

I'd met her a very long time ago and had been by her since then with the permission of her parents. I with my father by my side and my mother gone with a lover and a child of her own—a brother can you believe that? With the two being acquainted in business ventures and both on good terms, I was able to come and go to their house at any time. I remember my father laughing at how suddenly active I'd become since I was born not in the best of health...

And here I am now, about to knock on the door. From here I could hear a faint singing, footsteps and the crackling of a fire. I knocked and in a few seconds the mother, with her kind but wan face, let me in with a smile, urging me to sit by the fire and rest. I did and could never have been more thankful.

+ + +

It was a dark clear sky with no moon. The only lights we could see were from the stars and the square in the town accompanied with low cheers and music. Eventually, one by one, the lights would shut off and the civilians, with candles in their hands resembling fireflies in the summer, would make the pilgrimage to the hill and watch the sky. There were groups and broken lines, like blotches in the snow, who'd sit quietly or play around for everything was silent and their joyous cries could be heard miles away—where we were sitting.

It would stay like that until the night air became unbearable but till then, a fire would be created and everyone would sit closer to hear the stories and myths of olde from the mouths of the civilians themselves. While that happened, the lights of the patrol could be seen fading in and out of the dark crevices of the town, guards were posted by the possible entrances where any danger but that rarely happened.

The bench we were sitting on was crafted by my father but the location as to which it was to be placed was suggested by Leander, her father. His excuse was because it was always nice to look out from a high place. And it's wonderful, especially in the springtime when all the greenery and flowers looked their finest. Now that I think about it...it does sound like a fairytale. I mentioned this to her and she smiled but she seemed more lost in her thoughts. I asked her what was wrong and she snapped back to her normal self.

"Everything is fine," she had said. People said that when they were not fine.

I didn't push the subject. There was something about living for so long with this girl that made one almost know what she was thinking in a single glance. There was also the definite tightening of the edges of her lips; sometimes they'd be little tugs, as if all she wanted to do at the moment was frown. Then there was a certain look to her face and—as if aware of the deep slant of her brow—the modest dip of her head caused her hair to partially obscure her profile where she, following that, would brush it over her ear with white frozen fingers. The slant looked less severe but it remained nonetheless.

She was definitely not saying something that needed to be said. And I, noticing how this observation of her mannerisms struck me as a little...creepy. Turning away, even though she hadn't noticed my staring, I thought of what I could do. She was the type to, say, "suffer quietly." Even then, when we first met, she was quiet around other children and was always left behind like a shadow. When she was alone with her mother and father, she was the opposite... Maybe it has something to do with her parents... Probably—

"What are you thinking about?" Her voice clear and loud in the silence, like the hourly bells.

Her face was turned towards me... Has she been like that for some time? I pulled my cap closer. I thought of what I'd been doing earlier and couldn't help but be guilty.

She then looked to the gathering below, leaning forward, then she looked up. She gasped. Breaking out into a wide smile, she suddenly took my arm, the same one still holding onto the cap. Startled, the thing practically flew from my fingers to the snowy ground. I really should keep a better grip on that hat really...

"Did you see? Did you see?" she said, exasperated.

I shook my head. I asked her what it was it she saw and she replied—

"It was a shooting star... No. There were two—no"—she blinked, trying to recall the number of stars she saw fall—"Oh, there were a couple I know but one of them was very bright, like it was going to crash onto the hill like the myth."

I replied that it was probably a good omen and that the town was going to prosper. That everyone was guaranteed happiness since the year was ending soon.

She was still for a moment, her smile diminishing into a grin. Then, she nodded, leaving my side in order to pick up the hat, brushing the snow from the material. Instead of giving the hat to me she put it on, mimicking the walk and talk of a man. We laughed and she seemed to be in better spirits, sitting back down with a satisfied exhale as a chill shook her frame. She returned the hat to me as she relaxed onto the bench. I could see that the revelry was but a temporary reprieve from her thoughts for she looked as if she was about to cry... I hesitated but I placed the hat over her head, her sad eyes.

I thought she was going to smile, maybe even laugh and take "revenge" as she always did. But she didn't. She took my arm as before and leaned on it, the cap stayed so I couldn't see much but her nose and the tip of her chin. Soon, tears rolled from her cheeks and she'd inhale through her nose constantly, her grip round my arm tightening—if it was any tighter bloodflow would stop entirely in it's tracks. But it didn't hurt.

I really didn't mind but I felt as if she expected something from me and I felt idiotic that I couldn't just read her mind and find out how to offer solace on what she wouldn't tell me.

+ + +

We both sat there, the crowd dispersing slowly. Some lights, the streetlights mainly, were turned on in the town, there were some lights in some of the buildings too. She still wouldn't say anything but the tears had stopped. Her breathing was still uneven but, other than that, she was all right.

"Look up," I said, "Before the stars are gone."

She didn't. This, and my overall helplessness in these kinds of situations was slightly irritating me. I knew that there were things that people were supposed to and not supposed to do when in situations like this, or so I've heard. Then there was the fact that I had no idea what she was so worried and sad about... I took the plunge and just asked.

She had to repeat her answer, having to clear her throat first because her voice was watered down—"Mama is dying."

So it did have something to do with her parents... Ah, I still felt like an idiot and wanted to die in some obscure place. Again, she went against my expectations and looked at me with those large watery eyes but only for a second. She looked away, down, onto her lap then went ahead to removing the cap hitting me square in the face with it.

"But I'm all right now"—she amended with a half-hearted smile—"There's still happiness...for her. Sure. It'll take a while before I—Daddy and I—get over her...death... But we'll be by her side when she goes, wherever she goes...and we'll remember her too"—she grew quiet, her words coming out as whispers easily lost in a wind, if there was one—"as if she never died." Tears began to fall but she caught each with the swipe of her hands and cuffs and sleeves. "I have...hope"—she began shortly after—"that she'll be fine. And if she's fine then we are too."

Her body, as she talked, became stiff. Her back didn't touch the bench, her hands tense over her knees, her boots together like those who marched in the civil militia... She can't return to that girl again...the one who stood farthest from the group of schoolchildren. The one who refused to say a word unless she was called on by an instructor... I lightly placed my gloved hand over hers, turning it over so our fingers entwined and as I moved to lean on her shoulder, startling her, I said quietly but clearly—

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do but I do know that I'll be there for you—my father and I will be there for when it's just you two. However, remember that you can't keep this all to yourself. I don't want you to be like me, to end up like me, secretly despising other families because they had a mother along with a father." I couldn't help but say it out loud. If there was any chance for her being more open to me then I had to do the same for her. She loved her mother, and I had some love for mine under a smoldering hatred of her leaving...

"Then," she said, "did you hate me as well?"

"I hated everybody, honestly"—my voice lowered suddenly, as if I'd lost the will to even speak—"but I could never hate you. I can't hate anybody now." I moved from her side but our hands remained intact.

Her voice too lowered, the same went for her eyes. Her hand went tense under mine. "Why is that?" She repeated herself even though I heard her fine, stronger and uncertain.

"Because I couldn't find someone who could prove me wrong. You can't hate your parents, even if they did something wrong. I saw you with yours, saw how happy you were, and felt, at first, so much anger but found out after how sad I really was. What I'm trying to say is that I found you—even though you didn't know—but you have me there—here—already. Understand?" I wasn't sure how these words got out—nor was I sure if I understood them correctly (though it made more sense the less I thought about it)—but it seemed to be working.

She was set at ease after but I had a drop of regret for not thinking over my words. I mean, there's something wrong when words just come out of your mouth right? Words you didn't know you could say?

She said something and I couldn't hear because I was lost in my thoughts. I asked her to say it again.

"There's still happiness."

+ + +

That was the last Heaven's Night we spent together. She and her father had moved several months into the fall to one of the walled cities beyond this tiny town.

+ + +

Dreams. Hope. Heaven's Night... All make me think of fairytales. Can this town, it's civilians; is this all a big fairytale? If that's so, let it stay that way, if not for me then for everyone else. Then if not for everyone else, let it be so for her.

Back to the Word Processor...

2009-05-26T17:23:00.000-07:00

Today, it isn't better but having a somewhat negative post just doesn't give me that "resolved" feeling. I mean, you think that making a problem open for others to see would make someone feel better but I guess it's a matter of vocalizing them instead.

Then again, I'm not very good at that either so I'm turning to the written word and focusing on the dialogue the characters are saying. :)

I'm a person who doesn't really have a vile bone in their body and may not even react when it's a really negative situation...though I do tend to overreact at times (and i happen to be comical when that happens). However, that doesn't mean that I don't take negative things to heart. I consider the situation, I mope and be emo about it, maybe assess it or, all in all, ignore it until it blows way out of proportion. Hmm...as long as you know that I hate keeping pessimistic thoughts in my head (not that I'm optimistic all the time). I think I meant pessimistic thoughts about others but...yeah.

As the title says:

Back to the Word Processor!

You tell me.

My Memorial Day Weekend

2009-05-25T19:22:00.000-07:00

I don't have the slightest idea on what to say right now since a whole hurricane (if not a freakin' super-mega ginormous mental storm) made these three days seem like an ETERNITY (and the capital letters aren't just for show). I might sound a bit rant-y...

Frankly I also don't have the slightest idea where to start so I'll go ahead and say what's been bothering my mind as of late.

My father's auto shop got robbed AGAIN. Good God. I swear any mention of the economy just tenses up the atmosphere, especially since the shop is located in...how do you say...not a very financially well-off place but the place has car/truck related merits that I can't wrap my head around at the moment due to the fact that the business in a whole is something he doesn't openly talk about at home, where I am. So that's two issues right there.

Another issue regards finances, there and here and other places where he invested money into. Yes. It bothers me that the house is barely being paid for. And I just learned today that he can barely pay the minimum but some people are taking care of it and negotiating the price that's supposed to be paid every month or so. Also, there's the issue with my step-brothers that lodge here who don't assist paying off the bills...then there's me, the worthless sixteen year-old who reads and types and can't even get her head straight due to, what can be called, menial problems. Who's possibly setting herself up for many bad days to come because there's so many things wrong in life that makes everything appear unfair and cries and screams about it into a towel while huddled up in the apparent "safety" that is the bathroom.

I feel as if everything is my fault because I can't bear to live in the present. Is that bad? Yes times a million. I'm young and I can't enjoy it, sadly.

However, I know these things come to pass (ah, the terribleness that is to be a teenager) and it'll probably be YEARS till I can feel better about myself and everything. I also know that I can't do a lot, like, get a job and help pay stuff off (which I can't due to my circumstances--yes, I can't go out by myself because that's who's with me when I'm at "home"). So I'll continue doing small things around the house, especially here in my little room.

I was so horribly traumatized by a movie and by my own nightmares that I can't sleep without the television on. I found out that candles are a better substitute and it smells nice when I sleep. I also unplug things before I leave and make sure any lights are turned off. Strangely enough, when my step-brother leaves right after he picks me up from school, he leaves the lights on apparently because there are "crazies" in the neighborhood (not really... I blame the news media). So, when I first went downstairs and saw all the lights on, I couldn't help but feel like that one lonesome household pet... Kind of makes you want to raise an eyebrow doesn't it? I did, and I am at this moment asking myself that I'm really going to publish this... Of course that is a yes.

As for the shop problem, giving it up (because with all the expenses with repairing and securing it and stuff like that) sounds like the best way out of bankruptcy but he isn't going to give it up. I think it's because owning such an establishment is his dream. Hopefully, he can distinguish the fine line between dreams and their relevance to real life. I'm not sure if I typed that out right... But yes, there's always that one line that you can't cross because you can't afford to cross it. But he has faith so those who support his decision will have faith too I guess. *shrugs*

Sure, it doesn't sound like that apocalyptic storm I mentioned but it's a storm nevertheless that I have to stick through...not to mention keep hold of my wits before it gets blown away like in that one movie/story with the tornado and a dog with a four letter first name.

Putting aside everything, it was sunny and windy. I also saw foggy forest mountainscapes (even though it was on the side of the freeway and I don't think that that's a real word) that reminded me so much of the setting of LH. I ended up taking pictures and happened to come across a flock of sheep. Once I get the camera software onto this computer I'll probably end up posting it (I'm lazy so I don't know when that's going to happen). I have been reading lately and drawing here and there, as well as, typing and planning scenes on [omitted for the sake of cutting myself short for no reason].

And there's my weekend. It's like that itch you know you have but you have no idea where it's coming from so you have to deal with the tingly awkward feeling (and I know how awfully strange that sounds *smacks forehead*). But, I am in better spirits...which probably won't last because I don't feel rested at all.

*shakes fist at non-existant Monday entity immortalized by Garfield*

But I only have a penny...and it isn't even lucky. D:

True

2009-05-18T14:38:00.001-07:00

I'm giving myself an excuse to post despite my exhaustion from this weekend. Here's a SongPost to get the pen going on paper (or hands on keyboard since I've been writing on paper the whole day so far). Please excuse the weirdness...just a characterization thing.

+ + + True

The walls shield a secret that can never be told.

Humiliation.
Insubordination.
Hands tied in submission.

Rage.

The light flickering overhead only emphasized the figure on the edge of the bed with hands clasped in meditation. Nevertheless, his hands could never be far apart, not even for a feet or two. The same went for the binding at his ankles.

He lifted his head. There were keys and the faint rusted push of the door. He might have heard it more clearly if his ears weren't boxed in the last time they visited. Just by thinking about it brought the pain back, an odd pulsing in his head. If he wanted to raise his hands to his forehead there might have been blood or a scar. There wasn't. If he were to do that, there wouldn't be a cut or a sensitive bump, there would be bandages and cloth. Cringing, his eyes met theirs but...it wasn't who he was expecting. So he relaxed.

It was just a boy, he didn't seem to mean any harm. Plus, the keys to all the cells were in his possession. The aura about him radiated kindness, rather than the malignant ones he had envisioned as his very doom. He really should've kept a clear head about this.

The boy neared with hesitant steps, his hands were visibly shaking as he picked through the keys quietly. He held out his chained hands. The boy seemed set to free him.

Idiotic? Maybe. How long has it been since he had been imprisoned... How long since they kept harassing their kind for answers that they didn't know? The aftermath; it built their rage. Our rage, he thought, is what makes us whole. Makes us who we are. And yet, there was this human boy who showed the only speck of kindness ever since that time. Hopefully, the others will have enough reason to not bare their fangs against those who never meant to harm us. The world would die quick if the innocent were to fall past their time.

There was a scream, a girl far in the same hall. The boy quickened in removing the heavy chains and bindings wrapped round the lower half of his face and his hands. Slowly, little by little, the weight would lessen and his strength would return.

"I don't know you," he whispered, "but I know you want to get out of here. First, please, you must save my sister."

A grateful smile came upon his lips, revealing the sharp white teeth that could render through flesh. And then, came the first words he had said in a long time. "Child, I thank you. But allow me to save my brethren as well." The boy quickly gave him the keys.

"Please, you have to hurry."

He stood, towering in height. The boy however, was fearless. He was going to do it anyway, save his sister. The man who had her was one of the first humans he had encountered and, through a misunderstanding, was the very same who imprisoned him. In a sense, it was he who sent his comrades in this pit of a human jail because then, hordes of armed humans pursued them when they meant no harm.

They suffered because of him, now he was going to let them out. The only problem was whether they were going to trust him again...

He turned his attention to the boy, wondering how the hell he knew about this prison, about them... Unless, there was something going on. Something big.

But that would have to wait.

Funny how things go somewhat smoothly during state test time. Well, maybe the schedules are a bit strange but it's the flow of ideas. In this case, story ideas. I'm like reeaallly close to getting a plot/chapter overview done but that doesn't count the subplots for that one certain rewrite. I'm still unsure of the name though Love of Fate now that I thought of it more it doesn't make sense and Lost Heaven is slightly better and the song of the same name (which was a coincidence) sort of fits into the theme I'm going for it. *shrugs* I'll see how it goes.

Is it just me or what? Oh. And a Challenge.

2009-05-13T22:39:00.000-07:00

All right. So today I finished Madame Bovary (on which I couldn't keep to my "experiment" that I mentioned in the last few posts and that's only b/c I was really limited with time).

It. Made. Me. Cry. Goddammit. (that's not news...)

Worst of all I was reading the ending in class but nobody noticed my tears because I held them back, plus, I had my trusty handkerchief and those allergies. So it didn't even look like I was crying at all. Ah well. But I loved the book, that's all I'm trying to say.

I'm...content at the moment. Just wondering what to read next... Shall I read another classic that's on my list? or read something "normal" for a change?

Sadly I can't browse the library because students are taking tests at those hours so it's closed.

Hmmm... Besides that, I'm writing for a bit (that isn't news...again) while listening to music on Last.fm. (Ingrid Michaelson is awesomeness!)

Okay. I'm getting repetitive... How about something interesting for a change?

Truth be told, I've been focusing so much on my characters (idk, just felt like saying this) so, I'm looking for something different to write about. Like Luna's post waaay back in October (click) she took the idea I suggested, tweaked it around a bit and voila! The Slayer came out of it. *pokes everyone who hasn't visited her blog/read it yet*

I feel optimistic and "free" at the moment (like I haven't a care in the world) so I'm not sure if I'll feel the same if I look at this post again in...[insert ridiculous amount of hours here].

*cracks knuckles* Writing-wise I'm a romantic/psychological/ horror/fantasy/mystery/supernatural/tragedy freak. Anything among these genres/subgenres/themes/whatever they're called interest me. I'm willing to break out of it if the idea's awesomeness meter beats the others (look at me assuming stuff, please excuse the weird-factor as to how I'm putting this challenge together).

Putting that aside... What I'm looking for are ideas or concepts. It could already be a plot of anything that you wish and I'll try to make something out of it (a short story). Surprise me and I might surprise you back with the outcome (doesn't that sound fun? It sure does!). Ha. I just agreed with myself. But yes, that's what I'm looking for and I hope someone will reply.

The best example I could give at the moment (since I'm sleepy): "A story that centers around the events of a condemned town that calls upon those who've committed or felt guilty about what they've done. Upon arriving at this town, the environment turns to their personal hell that they have to fight their way through because that's the only way they can live normally again."

Obviously a Silent Hill reference. :| Well, what can you expect for an SH music junkie?

And while you're thinking about what awesome thing you'd like me to write let this picture distract you.

ORLY?

EDIT: Hello! 80th post...O!

...and to celebrate...my newest obsession (song-wise).

A busy weekend (?)

2009-05-12T16:46:00.000-07:00

Apparently this weekend I'll be going a certain somewhere to a certain airport to pick up a certain relative or two of my cousin's. Yeah. Just felt like making the sentence sound...complicated.

There shall also be sight-seeing and amusement park rides...though I wish that not a lot of money be spent...that, and if the weather won't be so hot this weekend (which, according to the news reports, it shall). *shakes fist at California weather*

There is bad news too (not that I'm saying that this visit won't particularly be good news. Kidding.).

The bad news is that I will not have not have access to my beloved desktop (maybe a laptop) which means that I cannot edit or type how I please. Though I may be able to visit Blogger and post a wee snippet or two at night. Just know that I will bring my trusty pen and journal, my music, a good book and good thoughts. Of course, there's the clothes and toiletries but honestly that's a bit boring.

I can't say much because I just learned about this yesterday. So, I'll see how that all works out.

Lately I've been picking at the draft I wrote for NaNoWriMo while doing this and that on another story. It's fun, so far, and exhausting. But that's only because I have a report due at the end of the week for English, while still being able to cram for the state tests (which got moved to next week due to the swine flu "epidemic") so I'm a little worn out. Oh. I also have a test on Thursday and my teacher expects us to know the material that we started at the end of last week. How fun. Also, my allergies are acting up and this cough is very stubborn. Exciting, isn't it?

Can you tell that I'm brimming with enthusiasm?

Here's to the others who are having a better week than me.

If you want a small laugh. Click here. :)

Nothing interesting here...

2009-05-11T09:20:00.000-07:00

Hello all
who read this
nothing interesting
to say today
except that
I'm trying my best
to keep my head up
and smile
because it's a brand new day
and I HOPE that you too
feel the same

Nothing substantial today
only because the day is starting
and it's Senior Ditch day
so the class is partially boring
can you not tell that already?
with the format of this post the way it is?

Maybe I'll come up
with something
more interesting
because I'm completely bored out of my wits
and long to go home
turn on the computer
blast music
and type away at a draft like there's no tomorrow
(which, unfortunately, there is)

It just feels
that whatever's up there
(you know what I mean)
is a bit lenient today
not that I believe
my luck today
is caused by the hands of a superior being, per se
(whatever per se means, I forget)

But yes
I'm rambling
but I don't have much work to do here
so...yeah.

Just a little down...

2009-05-07T09:26:00.000-07:00

I've been neglecting blogger but everyone has those reasons that deters them from doing thing they enjoy (and yes, that means that I like posting on Blogger, no matter if what I post gets no comments).

It's the fun of blogging on the internet. :)

What is this,
that I see
floating in the far plane

A light
a fallen star
A wish that had never been made

I take the star
in it's ethereal glow
holding it gingerly in my hands

I utter the words
those incandescent words
of thoughtless wishes and wants in my mind

Only, I find
the star loses it's glow
a second too late and white as snow

Crumbling in my hands
no matter how many times I call it's name
the name on which I had forgotten

Lost, yet again
on a world ever moving
of time never stopping

Dreams stay only
as an illusion
and incorporeal to the touch

Always spanning
between both worlds
but existing in only one

The sad, sad truth
of what was never accomplished
for there is no instant gratification.

Madame Bovary I Part I

2009-05-04T18:15:00.000-07:00

All right, here's my first go at it (and because I need a break from a writing project).

I didn't plan for the write up to be this long but I'll work on the others to make them shorter. Honestly, I've already read up to Part I, Chapter VII but, yeah, I just wanted to see how this goes.

I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.

SPOILERS & LONG POST AHEAD--->

PART I

I. The New Pupil

The story starts out as a mini biography of—not exactly the protagonist—but an important character nevertheless, Charles Bovary.

Charles is described as,

"a country boy, about fifteen years old... His hair was cut straight across his forehead...he looked sensible and shy."

Apparently, this is the first time he went to school later we find out why, but, from his description alone, Charles came off to me as a Momma's boy and not to impressive/interesting (if he were a real person in real life). A key thing to note in MB is Flaubert's use of excessive detail, but I won't go into it (just something I thought was interesting). Let's see...

After Charles's manner of dress was described, and after a brief explanation of a custom in the school (which was that their caps/hats would be thrown to the side of the classroom or something) he, being new, doesn't know and keeps a diligent hold onto his new hat.

When the teacher told him to stand, his hat falls. He goes to pick it up but his "neighbor" knocks it back down. laughter ensues in the classroom as he picks it up a second time. After that ordeal he sits (obviously a bit embarrassed) but the teacher calls him to stand once again so he can tell everyone his name.

At the utterance of: "Charbovari" students laugh and make fun. From this, you know that Charles has an accent (can you blame the guy? he hasn't been properly schooled yet). The students get reprimanded with lines and his hat goes missing but the teacher says that no one has stolen it and he'll find it eventually.

Sounds like a sucky day at school...

Then the chapter goes in depth about his parents, Monsieur and Madame Bovary (not the MB that the book is focused on, mind you)—right after mentioning that Charles is doing a little better at school (good for him). To put it plainly, his father is no banker (he does poorly with finances) and is known as a big flirt. The Madame, loved him dearly at first but due to his actions, her love turned to bitterness, however; she focuses her affections on Charles (she spoils him pretty much that it's kind of ridiculous).

"His mother was always dragging him around with her; she would cut out paper dolls for him, tell him stories; and involve herself in endless monologues full of melancholy humor and baby talk."

Huh. makes me almost—note, almost—envious.

"In the loneliness of her life she lavished all her thwarted ambitions on this childish head. She dreamed of important positions, could already see him grown up, handsome, witty, a successful civil engineer or magistrate."

I take that statement back.

You can guess what happens after. His mother goes about organizing for Charles to learn how to read and...sing ballads while she plays the piano...

Anyways, it appears that, because of their financial trouble, little Charles can't go to school (I believe this story is set when the French were still divided into classes—bourgeoisie (sadly, I can't recall what little I know about French history)) so he wanders about the town, doing whatever mediocre thing (like harassing farm animals—haha kidding) to occupy his time. It remained as so, him helping around the town/farmhands till at twelve he was to begin his studies (hmm, so I was wrong? hmmm...)

Oh. Wait. He gets to study under a priest...well, it would benefit Charles more if the study times weren't so varied (since the priest had to do church things) and the classes were done in haste. All in all, "the lessons were...badly organize(d) that they did no real good."

Finally, his Father gave in and sent him to normal school—on which he spends three years in (with a year or so between his enrolling there) before they pull him out to study medicine (I may be wrong but he's what? 17 or 18 yrs old? and not too talented a student either but he's...competent).

His studies prove to be an EPIC FAIL for he procrastinates and prefers to go to a cafe' and play with dominoes, apparently they struck his fancy (well, who doesn't like to play dominoes? knocking stuff down is fun).

"So many of his repressed feeling expanded; he learned songs by heart and sang them to entertain the women present, developed a taste for Beranger (a french song writer), learned how to make punch, and finally how to make love."

Sounds like a rippin' good time! [/endsarcasm]

By the time he gets home, there was a celebration in order for his graduation from med school... Which didn't happen. Though he failed his first attempt to become a doctor, his mother takes the blame, as well as points the finger at his "incompetent" instructors... Yeah. His mother "loves" him that much.

Oy...Five years pass...before the news is broken to the dad (yikes, that's a long time) but he saw it as "ancient history. Moreover, he was unable to accept the fact that a son of his might be a fool." His father thinks highly of himself...pretty much.

So, Charles continues his med education in a city/town called Tostes, but not after finding him a beautiful bride...that's (from my numbers) twice his age.

"He needed a wife. She[Madame Bovary] found him one: the widow of a Dieppe bailiff, who was forty-five years old and had an income of twelve hundred pounds. Although she was ugly, thin as a rail, and had as many pimples as the springtime has buds, Madame Dubuc was not lacking in suitors."

It's the money. It's got to be.

So his wonderful wife accompanies him to Tostes. Scratch wonderful. The Madame turns out to be a demanding woman, and insisted that she be the ruler of the household...

"He assumed he would be freer to choose his own actions and spend his money as planned. But his wife was the ruler; he had to watch what he said and didn't say in public, eat fish on Friday, dress as she prescribed... She would open his letters, spy on his whereabouts, and listen behind the partition when there were women in the consulting room..."

You get the idea but, overall, she's a lonely woman in my perspective and I don't see why she'd be doing these things except out of her twisted love for her young husband...I could be wrong.

Hopefully, everyone's still awake.

Shout it Out

2009-05-02T22:23:00.000-07:00

I believe that deeds speak louder than words. I'm afraid of being left behind and thus bring others down with me. Optimism and Pessimism is just another way of describing the weights over your Left and Right shoulder. I feel I can't cry because it'll deem me a weakling. I like screaming into a pillow or else I'll be reprimanded for making noise. The one person I really hate is myself because that's the person that hates everyone else. And blames everyone else. I bring myself down. A person I love is myself because it balances out the hatred. Fairytales are real. I take words and re-invent the meaning. Call me old fashioned because...well, I am. I may like Japanese things but I am not a Japanophile. Open-mindedness is key to understanding all life but to know absolutely everything about life is absurd. I want to shoot Raskolnikov because he's too much like me (Goddammit it. Why Rodion Romanovich? Goddammit why?!) I often ask people how it would be like if everyone was their opposite gender.... Think about it. I had a dream where I jumped off a building. Right when I landed, I woke up by the shock that ran through my body. I had that dream in class. Aglaia Ivanovna is one of the female characters I can most relate with because Prince Lev Nikolaevich Myshkin is love. I've contemplated suicide but I knew I couldn't do it because I knew it was stupid. Stories are for children, I've been told, so let me stay as one for a while longer. I had imaginary friends when I was small. Frankly, I'm lonely, but that's because I miss people I shouldn't be missing. I have this wild notion that one day a prince will swoop me off my feet and take me away...seriously now, how many times does that happen? I believe it anyway. I am not afraid of commitment. I'm just in denial that people actually like me. I hate my real name. My pseudonym is created from my first, middle and last names. Cell phones are overrated and costly and I vowed to never have one until I was old enough to pay for one myself...my parents got me one anyways. Darn. I'm scared to DEATH by spiders or anything with more legs than necessary. I'm nocturnal. I can't dance but I try, and fail, HORRIBLY. I like the waltz. Lace and flowy dresses is a love I keep to myself. People think I'm emo. I'm not. I'm me so get it straight. I'm a Psychological Horror enthusiast. I cover the walls of my room with pictures and drawings so, when I come home, I know someone wants me home. I've walked one hour in the rain to go home once and liked it. I sing terribly but that doesn't stop me. I blame myself too much. I want someone to tell me it's okay and that everything's going to be all right and MEAN IT. My characters are what make me get out of bed in the morning. They tire of me overstaying my welcome in my dreams. I can't hold on to anything good for me because I purposely want someone to hate me so I can hate myself. I absolutely dislike the slamming of doors or any variation of loud noises. It reminds me too much of when my tyrannical mother would scream and shout about the little things. My door was kicked down because I said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Go figure. I had hands wrapped round my throat as I was on the ground, and all because I was crying. A certain someone was witness to this and didn't do a thing. Begging for forgiveness helps but my pride took a hard hit. I can't trust anyone but myself. It isn't official but I'm insane, if not that, then I'm slowly going mad. I want to run away so so badly but I know there's nowhere for me to go. The only hell and heaven there is is what you define them to be. If I did something wrong, I did something wrong, it doesn't matter what you think. I'm scared of the dark because I remember what I don't want to remember. I want to fall asleep and never wake up. Someday I'll grow wings and fly away.

Novels and rants with cats

2009-05-01T09:37:00.000-07:00

So here it is,

my feeble attempt at light-hearted poetry--
a mess of incoherent words and ramblings
of a tired girl held in contempt
for the night hours go by oh so fast
that one cannot lie without a passing glance
at a welcome distraction

Sleep welcomes a much needed rest
for these bones ache as if I was seventy years old
but I refuse to sleep
--and this is my excuse--
that rambling for forever in poetic format
makes the imagination spark and die
--like a match in a wet cave--
but hey, at least I'm alive

Hey all, a short random poem written a few nights ago when I refused to sleep unless I made a couple of decent rhymes. It didn't work but something humorous I thought worth sharing came up. :)

Oh. Here's something interesting (and something I want to try thanks to Luna and Wandering Child.)

I'll be reading Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert. But, instead of just reading it, I'll read and summarize what's going on. I've read many books but never looked into them (as in analyzing and noting things down...for EVERYONE to see). Plus, I think it'll help me with my own writing, considering characterization, backgrounds...etc. plus, I want to know why the ending of the novel is the way it is.

Now, I originally wrote this post during school but Blogger was having "errors" so I couldn't post it. So now I have to think of some new things to say.

I fell asleep in the afternoon so I'm disappointed that I couldn't get a jump start on writing.

It's quite rainy over here and it's great (thus, why I fell asleep in the afternoon since rainy days make me sleepy).

I did however, start reading the book in several of my classes. But the 5th period sub decided for me to set my focuses on Math than on a great author such as Flaubert! (Can you tell I'm pissed?) I don't know about you guys but I doubt I'll be using high-level math in what I want to do (I just need to pass it to graduate). I somewhat regret taking Geometry freshman year because it was easy but Alg. II expects you to know Geometry and Algebra I. Sorry guys but I am not a mathematician, nor can I wave a wand that'll make me commit to memory various formulas and tiny rules concerning their use and how to execute them (but I am, in no way a bad student).

To tell you the truth, the reason I epically PHAIL at maThz is because I relate it to logically defining our world. Sure, numbers and graphs...polynomials and upside/sideways down U's doesn't seem like much on the surface...not to mention imaginary numbers (Oh Good Bob in heaven...) I'm a person who wants to see the extension of their efforts. Numbers on a piece of paper is hardly how I learn, or at least, how I want to learn. So I drift off.

It's totally my fault for being like this now because I loved doing math before we, as students, were pressured into really committing (*cough* cramming *cough*) this information in our brains. I have no excuse because, well, if I "paid attention" I wouldn't really be complaining. Many people will probably say that because...hey, it's just math. Do it.

A lot ask how Math is relative to the world. I did too and tried to get my own definition besides "you can use it to get this job...or do this if you know how to do this to figure out about that..." It sounded like a never-ending circle of going into a certain field or to calculate the tax you have to pay after a ginormously portioned meal (though they taste good). However I looked at the question, it would always be about the world that I, at the time, didn't want to live in (at the time this really bothered me)...[/endangryrant]

I'm going to end the post here, since I've dawdled too long on Blogger with deciding whether I should add what I wanted to say in the first place. :)

\:-|

Indeed.

EDIT: Is it just me or does anyone else think Blogger's format needs to be wider?

Poetry & blankets make for lazy afternoons EDIT

2009-04-28T18:27:00.000-07:00

What is there
but a bleeding heart
that tears
so easily in your hands
thou art—

a lover
a dreamer
a friend
a schemer

The hand I held out
you didn't take
your eyes unnervingly cold with hate
at the weakness I displayed
how long must thou make—

me wait
for thy hand
a smile
a reassuring glance

Before I tumble to the depths below
deeper and deeper, per chance
into what my sorrows created—
a place with no sweet hello—

"my dear
what keeps you here?
your tears are spent
your heart taken...
what is left but a hollow maiden?"

Woe is me
glass eyes replacing
the once bright sheen; she—
through the mirror—her beating heart racing—

under the familiar gaze
of a master, a maker
of broken hearts
of legends and legacies
the maiden lost in a spell
that ordinary men cannot quell

Woe!
All is lost!
Drop the red tresses of the end curtain
to silence the hungry crowd below
For there can never be an encore, herein
the dwelling of the one in the guise of a crow.

What can I say that today was a lethargic day but the weather was very nice.

The news of swine flu is all over the place here but no one has the illness as of yet (well, not that I know of). I'm going to keep this a short post since I decided to get something to eat right after posting something here (I don't know why I chose to post something in the first place).

Hmm...I have no rants or complaints, nor do I have any major problem on my mind right now. The only issue is my own laziness (I blame the warm blanket around my shoulders, it's making me sleepy) and the state testing shizz next week (SAT/CSAT's). I think I can muster up something about it... *gets thinking cap on, you know, the one with the lightbulb*

School test scores determine whether the government intervenes in the matters of education...not something other districts tend to be worried about since their students are a bit more competent when it comes to learning...but not for the school I go to. Ah, the woe that are tiny districts and tight compact housing with low wages. Now, it sounds a bit bad...it isn't but at least the mayor's doing something about it (putting new buildings, parks, schools, etc. etc.) hopefully the test scores will improve as well. :|

So state school or not? An interesting thing to keep in mind...

Oh. In second period today, tons of people were reaching for the hand sanitizer...and, why do I mention this? Because I sit next to the teacher's desk and the sanitzer is practically a hairsbreadth away. :| It's nice that it's getting the limelight and all but using antibacterial items too much may cause new bacteria to pop up who are immune to anti-anything. :|

Three cheers for evolution!

(Nah, I'm not angry.)

4/29/09 EDIT: Hmm, it appears that the flu did spread here. The elementary school got closed but the high school is still open (as you can tell I'm typing this in class, otherwise I would be sound asleep). Here's me wishing everyone well and to wash your hands kiddies.

Raison d'être

2009-04-26T23:04:00.000-07:00

+ + + Raison d'être—reason for being
Just a little "dabble." I've had angel stories since I started writing so I thought it'd be a nice change of pace from what I've been writing about so far.

Monochrome images told him the past. It was peaceful, always, when he looked back. The peal of childlike laughter, the gentle warmth of sunshine and two hands clasped together in friendship. All had once played a part in his, if not everyone else's life.

They were...insufficient, the quality in which he saw those images. Faces, voices, were distorted beyond recognition. What once was warm and friendly—what once was happy—brought sadness and confusion.

A blurry smile. A flower tucked in the crook of their ear...

Fading away and away and away...like a trick of the light, till she was gone.

+ + +

"He's run away!"

Crash! Will's hand slipped, the delicate porcelain that harbored the morning's fresh tea dropped to the floor. Her left eyebrow twitched in rage as she met the frightened maid's eyes. It was then that the news had been confirmed. Esra escaped.

And through the window no less, she thought as she investigated the scene. Her hand drifted over the wooden countertop where Esra's belongings laid just last night... She opened one of the drawers underneath. Gone. She cursed under her breath, crossing her arms as she leaned onto the counter.

Will had kept that blasted gun under lock and key. Esra, with his strength, broke it without a sweat. It was stupid to think that a measly lock can stop a being of his caliber but she thought... Will ran her hand through her hair. She thought he'd listen to reason, and the gun, being stowed away at arms length from where he slept...it was a case of trust. Will thought for sure he wouldn't pursue her—the ghost, no, the other half of Katarin—but he went and did it anyway. What? Was he suicidal? He had been injured in previous struggles, was hurt in ways Will couldn't imagine, not to mention his ordeal the previous day—where he fell unconscious in the street right after a bout with a high level demon...

A chill traveled down her spine.

Will dashed to the window, felt the spring air brush her auburn waist length hair over her shoulders. Tears were forming at her eyes, at the realization of this, she used the back of her hand to brush them away. This was bad. She stepped onto the ledge of the window, her hands steadying her bent frame. Really, really bad. Will closed her eyes briefly, in order to mute the sounds of the spectators below. Soon she felt a warmth in the center of her forehead, the place where the angels had blessed her, where Esra blessed her mere moments before death... She leapt forward. Gasps ran around, screams and shouts...then, voices of awe and shock. Some kept quiet, crossing themselves instead.

White feathers danced overhead, the wind carrying them further west. Will, used to summoning her wings now (for she'd been practicing like hell to control her powers) followed the wind. It could have been a hunch, her going this way, but as she neared her destination, her heart seemed to sink into desperation more and more...

+ + +

A temptress...that's what she'd been reduced to?

Nihil was aimed right at her face but he didn't pull the trigger. Only a few seconds... Only one pull of the trigger...and Katarin's soul would've been set free. But the reason the gun was assigned to him, the role he had been endowed, after this shot there would be another, and another, and another... Even though he would set her soul free, what about his? All these years...he'll keep fighting...but for what then?

"Why do you hesitate?" Her china doll face wore a smile of malice. This isn't her, he repeated continuously. This can never be her. The girl's face and body—though aged in the years since the soul was taken and remade—was similar. If Katarin hadn't died too early, this would be what she'd grow into and they could have lived together... If it was so, if fate was ever so kind, their paths would've been different. Instead, they had been separated by decades, centuries, forever in a chase to right the wrong that was stealing a human's soul. And it would all end, right here, right now, if only Esra could pull the damn trigger.

The woman, carefully watching the angel's movements, could sense his strife. She, aware of the soul that kept her artificial body together, thought of how powerful she'd become if this angel's soul was under her possession. Not to mention, the weapon aimed at her. Just the thought of being able to rise in rank... How others would tremble at her presence... She licked her cherry-red lips, one hand close to her side, a small blade held firm under her thumb.

"Stay back!" Esra shouted, finding that his voice began to falter. Both were a couple paces away. Her being so near him was enough to let the years of killing demons fade away to a buzz in the back of his conflicted mind.

"Shoot," she coaxed, "I dare you. Shoot already." She reached with her free hand to the hands holding the gun inches from her face. A spark ran through her fingers, being that the gun was forged for the use of angels only. Or those with access to an angel's soul. She relished at how close she was to having this weapon to herself... Her right hand closed in on the handle of the blade, ready to strike...

"Esra! Look out!"

Katarin snarled, lunging forward with the blade. Esra sidestepped, his wings rising to gain leverage over her swift consecutive slashes. He fired once. Katarin dodged, thin bat-like wings flapping at her sides, taking to the air. Her obsidian eyes glaring at Esra and Will, who had flocked to his side in a hurry. Two angels? How perfect.

"Esra! You're alright! I'm so—"

"You don't belong here. Go home," was his cold reply.

Will tugged on his sleeve, her emerald eyes pleading, "You could've died! Esra, what about your home? Think of what you have, think of... Remember, Esra, please, think of what you gave to me."

"Enough of this!" With her wings close to her body, Katarin rushed towards them, three blades in each of her gloved hands. She threw one. Esra pushed Will away from him in time, the blade caught deep into the ground. Another throw, using the two left in her right, directed it towards Will. Will, still recovering from the strength in Esra's pushing her away, attempted to call forth a shield. But there was no time. She fumbled with the words, closed her eyes, and held her arms over her face.

There was a sound of metal against metal, or something of equal hardness. She winced.

No pain... Will lowered her arms, finding herself in a protective sphere with a distinct shade of blue—the color of Esra's aura. At once, Will was relived, then enraged for not being able to protect herself but also at..."Damn! Esra! Let me out!" The shield was permanent! What the hell? Will pounded against the surface with her fists, her blows making no effect, save for the ripples that resonated throughout the sphere at each strike. At last, she gave up but her hands remained on the sphere's surface. It was warm.

This isn't fair... Will stood, tense, watching Esra defend against Katarin's attacks. She could feel his exhaustion. The sphere reflected his state of mind... The tiny webs that made up the sphere, the warmth that was disappearing under Will's fingers... What could she do?

It was difficult to breathe but as long as she was safe and alive... Bang! The knife was deflected. Bang! The other flew high into the sky. Esra kept his eyes on Katarin's hands, his finger ready on the trigger... She threw. And the last...

"ESRA!"

Bang!

+ + +

"Do you think there really is a heaven? When I die, I want to go there."

"Then I want to go too!"

Smiling, she said, "Together. It would be nice to go together wouldn't it? But..."—her head lowered, eyes downcast—"what if one of us dies first? Like if I were..."

It took a while to answer. He wasn't sure on what to say....but as long as they were in the same place, the time didn't have to matter. "Then I'll personally take you there. I'll ask God and his angels to escort you too and then I'll pray every night to make sure you're taken care of. It's easy. And, if I go first, you have to do what I would do."

"Sounds too good to be true... You promise?" Her eyes brightened, if not a little bit. Lately it looked as if she was going to cry any second and the color of her face...

"I swear."

She shook her head. "Don't swear. I wouldn't want to be...a burden...so"—she held up her pinky—"pinky promise me instead Esra. That way, you can move on if you desire to forget me."

The boy pinky swore. "I doubt it."

"No worries," she said, her voice as low as a whisper, "I'm a very easy person to forget."

+ + +

Both combatants fell to the ground.

The sphere holding Will disintegrated.

No, no, no...please, God, no... Esra, please... Will sprinted to his side, kneeling, a hand over her mouth. The dagger was halfway deep into his right shoulder. He was stirring, his eyes blinking rapidly. Will exhaled in relief. Hurt, but not dead...

"Will..." Esra murmured, attempting to sit up straight with his left arm. "Nihil, please." His hand was held out to her. Will, unsure, rose and picked up Nihil that was a meter or so away where Esra lay. The weapon looked light in Esra's hands, but when she had it in her possession, it was heavy as hell. In a second or two, Esra had the gun in his left hand. After, he prompted Will to help get him to his feet.

Together they walked to Katarin, who lay on her side. She held her stomach, ivory skin tinted crimson. Katarin looked at Esra, flashing a bloody smile. Her body was convulsing, foam dripping from the corners of her mouth. She attempted to talk: "Do...you really think...you'll be able to pull the trigger this time?" Her voice was broken, low in tone and pleading. "Is it so wrong"—she gestured with one hand to her heart—"to give life to a lost human soul? Is it?"

"You deny their passage to rest eternally and you've done nothing but cause trouble during your stay, all of you," he said without remorse, "And it's wrong to go against a promise."

She laughed, a dry short laugh that ended in a coughing fit. "You angels...and your morals. If you still want to kill me, go ahead, I can care less. I'm not worried... Do you know why?"—her crazed obsidian eyes looked towards the two, a maniacal smile twisting her blood-drenched lips—"Because I'm an easy person to forget! And, with a pull of the trigger"—she gestured a gun shooting the side of her face—"Bang! Poof! I'm gone."

"What are you getting at?" Will remarked, seeing that Esra was too preoccupied in his thoughts to reply.

"Well? aren't you going to fulfill your promise?" Katarin replied, ignoring Will.

And with that, Esra aimed straight at Katarin's forehead. His whole arm shook however; but, with Will there to assist...

Bang!

Katarin was free. With the seal broken, a sliver of white light appeared as the body disintegrated, it's dust carried away in the wind. The light remained there for a moment, a warmth radiating from it. Will, entranced by it, could hear a faint voice—gathering that she could hear correctly, a girl said 'thank you.' She glanced at Esra, tears overflowing as the soul faded from view. "Finally..." he seemed to say. Their eyes suddenly met.

"What is it?" Will said, surprised. Esra winced as he used his right hand to secure the gun in Will's hand. "Esra...it's over, we can go home now... But why do I get a feeling that there's still more to do?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand over Nihil. The seals on their foreheads illuminated for a brief amount of time. Nihil, in Will's hands, lightened and in that same moment, her mind opened, letting in a century old presence—the spirit of the gun whose name meant 'nothing', the banisher of homunculi like Katarin. Why, this could only mean one thing and Will's eyes widened in realization. Her earlier feeling was right. Esra was going to die. In the midst of Esra's bout with Katarin, she could feel his will weakening...now, with the relinquishing of his weapon, Esra felt farther, drifting... His light was fading.

"My time is over," Esra said, his palms toward the sky.

Will shook her head, hot tears falling fast. Dropping Nihil to the ground, she beat against Esra's chest with her fists, clutching the fabric of his jacket."You can't leave! Stay, stay, please stay... I-I—"

Silence. "Will...I'm...tired...of living like this. All I've known is sorrow and vengeance, pity, grief and shame. All I wish now is rest because what I've done is give false hope and run over people in my conquest for Katarin. Now, that I've realized my purpose, there is none left for me to do but sleep."

She stepped away, trying her best to hide her eyes from him. All along, she'd known, he'd still choose Katarin over her. What she didn't know was that she had to kill him—that was the price so given by Esra himself. She picked up the gun and, without turning to look at him she asked, "What am I to you?"

He was speechless. "Will..."

"Nevermind. That was a stupid question. So this...is goodbye?" Will wiped at her eyes...she couldn't face him like this. "Say something already!"

But he couldn't. He had handed over ownership of Nihil but, though it was small, he was still connected to that grand power. Now that it was in Will's hands, he could feel her sadness, her feelings... But his heart didn't desire to move forward... It was tired. That's all. To spare the girl, he embraced her, his wings creating a warm barrier around them... There he stayed for awhile. She was a frail creature despite her demeanor and it had been awhile since he had last been near a girl who held such feelings for him.

Will clawed at his arms, fighting through the tears. With the best voice she could muster, she said, "She's going to be mad. You unfaithful jerk... Now, let me go, I can't get a good shot of you unless I shoot myself but Nihil tells me I can't do that. It's against the rules—but you already know that."

He did so, reluctantly, and watched the girl stand a step or three away with the gun aimed at his seal.

"So it's goodbye?" she said with a half-hearted smile.

Esra, disposed of the knife embedded in his shoulder, not bothering to show how it hurt so bad... "Goodbye...Willow."

His tone of voice, his face, his eyes...she'll end up remembering him for as long as she held this gun. It...was a cruel punishment and shall remain as so but she had the following centuries to work it out.

Bang!

Letter From Lost Days

2009-04-26T00:02:00.000-07:00

Just taking some time to gather my thoughts before opening some documents and typing. I feel that there aren't a lot of days where people stop and think about what's good. It's always something so immediate, something that has to be done right away, or something so depressing that it can't leave you alone...

As of late, I've peered into an old diary I kept in middle school, not a lot of years ago. Sadly, I ended up feeling years beyond 16, like I had been peering into the life of a child that lived...say...a century or decade from my time (whatever that means). I laughed and slapped my forehead in disbelief in what was my lame writing (since I wrote in print and mediocre cursive) and the words I chose to describe my day. It was...questionable.

Among the box where my diary was kept were stuffed toys, photos/pictures, little cut-outs from video game packages, old cards (one birthday one from my father and a christmas one from a classmate) and several notebooks/notepads (one of them given from a teacher where we had to write poetry in). The poetry...struck me the most, only because (from speculation) it was during the time when the title "best friends" didn't apply anymore. For the sake of practice for a piece I'm working on I'll attempt to describe what I saw...

The writing style was mixed--an array of printed letters and cursive. Words had no particular slant but deviated from left, right or straight; the words themselves either passed or never touched the guidelines of the paper. Some words are incoherent, meaning that emotions guided the shaky hand that wrote this piece--the stand-alone word "friend" written as such is the title. There is no date as to which this was written.
The content is as such, written in pencil:

friend

Somehow, you think of a person as a friend
And that they would be with you till the end

But like everything else, the term 'friend' is a facade
to the great scheme, preferably by god,

angel wings captivate innocence
and two hands conjoining captivates friend

but what is the deal [this is striked out] but when people are alone they tend,
to those pains in the heart that begets a fred (friend).

for me, a friend cost me things, emotions barter(ed) here and there,
the life being played from this path which I stray,
from fate and destiny,
I regret having this friend [the last two words are written with significantly more pressure than the rest].

So what was my point exactly for the previous bit of depressing information? Not a lot. I have seen books where it's in a diary perspective but the words are strictly in the words of the writer. I wanted to try something new for the purpose of practicing to what I think to be a bad/risky idea. Think a narrative in diary format but there are elements in it that describe certain aspects of the writing. Like another person, a third party, has read it already and noted things down beit memos or if words are omitted but are recognizable still so the words are written down and is noted afterwards to have been striked out...minor things like that. "There's only so much you can do with the typed word compared to the written word. So why not recreate it?" That's the point I'm trying to get across, I finally realized it just now. *hits forehead*

Yeah. I blog as I think. Kind of makes me wonder how other people blog...?

Err...it appears I've blogged for too long (and here I was hoping for a short post to get the writing juices flowing) but it doesn't mean that I have to close down the word processing programs (of course I'd lose some sleep but...)

...reading over the post, another point was appreciating the good things wasn't it? I don't feel like I do that enough. And because of that I lose sight of what I want to accomplish. Right now, I want to get to writing! On the other hand, I should treat my body better and get some sleep (it's only fair since my body's been working overtime for the past week). Who knew the week after Spring Break would be a bit...difficult...? Haha I've got nothing to complain about though. It's just that the teachers are rushing on what information we need to get in our heads before assessments...again.

*pushes away school from brain* Aargh! Okay. I really need to stop drifting on and off topics here.

I remember a time of peace where, on those cloudy sunny days during lunch, on the large expanse of grass, there was no one around that could disturb the setting. So we'd lay there, backpacks propped underneath our heads as our eyes watched the clouds roll by. My hands intertwined together over my stomach--never had I felt more in tune with myself. I heard, felt, could hear myself breathe. A breeze never smelled so sweet. And the sky never looked so inviting. The clamor of reality simmered to a low buzz in my head, and all there was in this space was myself and a person I kept dear next to me at the time. It felt like an eternity before the sound of a bell broke this peace, signaling us back from the comforts of dreamworld.

And no, there were no animals. Just clouds.

The box in which I kept my middle school things... I doubt I'll return it to it's place in the garage. But I shall close it eventually because it takes a considerable amount of space in my room. However, it's also been a considerable amount of time ever since I first closed my mind on the past. At least, on the good things. (And here I was wondering why I always thought of the bad things.) Without the good balancing the bad, what do you turn into I wonder?

What we call 'life' passes by so quickly without us noticing because the concept of time is an illusion. But I'm sure you all know or have considered it as such at times.

I LOST THE GAME.

2009-04-24T09:41:00.000-07:00

"(damnation of memory)"

Fading into a nightmare
of delusions of grandeur
and vain suppositions of power...?
The people...are fading too.

A wellspring of faith
brings hope but
like a flickering candle--
it dies in the midst of a rough wind.

Bring your hands together
from the invisible chain that binds
those with the same fate
and fight to return to what once was.

A conquest of peace
brings about destruction--
Does this make it all the more worthy
or meaningful? meaningless?

Nightmares last
as long as the night lasts
but life continues onward for eternity--
Will we ever wake up?

A shallow sleep
is not sufficient
to take back what was lost
and forsaken.

in memoria di me--
aegri somnia de perdido.

(in memory of myself--
lost in troubled dreams)

--damnatio memoriae

What ho! (the Shakespeare meaning please) Tis' another weekend to which I'm grateful is finally here. It's been a tough week for me but I'm sure others have it tougher than I. (If so, how are you? and you've got a listener on your side if one is called for.)

So lately I've been assigned by my Graphics teacher to design something for a T-shirt--it's a class project--but, what he doesn't know, is that I've been in a big artistic slump ever since I've been writing. Though I don't see it as a bad thing since I've been writing more poems as of late and that's quite an achievement for me (though they don't make much sense at times, or they focus on a character or a specific story). But I'm glad that I've gotten into the habit of writing in poem form since it helped me on an English assignment I had to do on Tennessee Williams' play A Streetcar Named Desire. It's a lovely play, though violent and at times suggestive, but it gave me a lot of insight on real-life conflicts and character development.

The strange thing in my school is that no one likes the books that are assigned...is that true? maybe, but I previously watched the movie and loved it so I loved the play version twice as much. Then, there was Millers' The Crucible, which I liked and made me take an interest in Nathaniel Hawthorne's works... Before that, we had to read various articles, though a bit boring (since the way we did these were really repetitive) they were on interesting subjects. Some, if I remember correctly were on: childhood obesity--who is responsible?; teenage crimes and whether sending them to adult jail was justified...things like that.

...I believe what I was trying to say is that reading is a fun and educational activity. Call me old fashioned but people, especially teenagers need to read more. I'm kind of tired, if not a little annoyed, when a student says something that is so obvious if they had read the material assigned.

I'm at a crossroads right now. One, I could continue ranting about what I find faulty in the educational system, while implementing multiple exclamation marks in the process. Or, two, I stick to my Libran nature and not poke the sleeping bear with a 3 cm toothpick. IT JUST CAN'T BE DONE! And besides, my mind wanders faster than the Roadrunner does from Wile E. Coyote. (I'm trying not to focus on anger because it makes me feel idiotic as I type.)

Is it just me who feels a bit lost? Probably...or not.

...Here's something that was mentioned today.

RULE 1: You are playing The Game.
RULE 2: Whenever you think about The Game, you lose.
RULE 3: Loss must be announced

The objective of the game is to forget it exists.

Crap. I just lost the game.

...Text spam

2009-04-21T23:19:00.000-07:00

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Ll work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
L work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Ork and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Rk and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
K and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

And no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Nd no play makes Jack a dull boy.
D no play makes Jack a dull boy.

No play makes Jack a dull boy.
O play makes Jack a dull boy.

Play makes Jack a dull boy.
Lay makes Jack a dull boy.
Ay makes Jack a dull boy.
Y makes Jack a dull boy.

Makes Jack a dull boy.
Akes Jack a dull boy.
Kes Jack a dull boy.
Es Jack a dull boy.

Jack a dull boy.
Ack a dull boy.
Ck a dull boy.
K a dull boy.

A dull boy.

Dull boy.
Ull boy.
Ll boy.
L boy.

Boy.
Oy.
Y.

..that is all. :) No, of course not... I, in my boredom decided to post a scene that I just can't get right (I'm actually procrastinating but...)

“Stars fall constantly, that's why our sky is bleak and dark.”

There is none but a moon, and sun—though small—that is constantly covered by thick clouds. A voice echoes, in that bleak reality, a reprimanding voice full of scorn. They say the world was forsaken. They say the world is doomed. They say the world is in the hands of a jealous god, who, sickly with envy and hatred for humans, wishes to extinguish their own creations...

A smile...sharp, jagged. Sunken hollow faces emerging from the fog...

Crunch! Goes the leaves under their steps as they neared the child amongst them. Long hair obscuring her shaky body, a torn dress soaked in red. She had tripped and fallen, losing her escort because of a game. This wasn't a game now.

The child, tears running from her eyes, looked around her, fear welling in the pit of her stomach. Then she stopped shaking. The hundreds of figures, the glowing, ravenous eyes, disappeared one by one, leaving a boy behind. He was like the others, pale in skin, though dressed fashionably in black and white, a red ribbon tied on his right index. Lorelei attempted to stand, suddenly noticing a ribbon on the same finger.

It wasn't there before.

Upon standing, the wound had healed and Lorelei had grown in age and appearance, from a young child to sixteen in a split second. The other had grown too, revealing a young man. He appeared to be the same age as Lorelei but there was something in his face that said otherwise. Tall and lean in structure, clad in a plain white dress shirt with hands in his trouser pockets. Through his dark layered hair were light blue eyes. Under that indifferent gaze revealed years of hurt. Suddenly, his mouth moved to form words, but Lorelei couldn't hear. He didn't seem bothered whether she heard or not.

Wanting to know more, she took a step towards him, he, backward. She paused momentarily, dashing forward to meet his challenge. He, with the same expression, spun around and walked away, gradually speeding up into a sprint. Lorelei was alone.

Fear, the same fear from her earlier encounter, returned. The same footsteps... The images from before, those human-like creatures... Panicking, she turned round and round, shouting with no voice, to something or someone... Whatever it was she was shouting, she noted three syllables...a name. She stopped and looked at her hands, the ribbon no longer present on her finger. Sadness leadened her heart.

To the left. The snapping of twigs. To the right. A faint breathing... She looked to the roof of the forest, catching a sparkle, no, several glints of light fall in the same direction the young man took. There she ran, constantly looking up at what she believed was the sky through the tops of the trees, using the fear of her assailants to push her bare feet harder.

And somewhere in her chase to find him, a verse came to mind. It was unfamiliar and not; like a tugging memory or a fragment of a dream...

“A sky full of stars where you can reach and take one if you wanted to.
A sky where light shines. A sky of springs and summers and autumns...
Somewhere, there's a sky that we'll watch together...

“Promise me this.”

...

For a second on the path, there was light. It's brightness consumed Lorelei's figure, swiftly turning to darkness. The forest scenery was gone and what remained was null space. He stood there, his back towards her. Slowly, he peered over his shoulder, his eyes registering the girl who stood meters away. Lorelei shuddered at his gaze.

For a second, there was sound, Lorelei's hands clenching the fabric of her silk nightgown. But nobody talked.

Then there was a tear that slid down Lorelei's face.

She remembered his name.

His name was...

And there's a significant break after that. Critique, comments, any kind of feedback or random comment is welcome.

Random song & poem for you all

2009-04-18T01:31:00.000-07:00

Not much going on, except the week is almost over and that I'm trudging along with the writing. A couple of jarring things in real life have come up but it won't affect my internet life that much. :) And here's me using the concept of Pandora's box yet again while trying to keep that fairy-tale/fable-esque feeling since morality (or heaven and hell) is mentioned a lot in those stories... Oh, try to guess what the title is here. *goes to sleep*

Honor thy knight's code
and protect thy princess from harm
Slay the dragon barring your path
to claim said princess
as your beloved bride

Enter the chapel
in white and noble dress
awaiting the hand of your ethereal bride
Speak wishes and promises
sealing Pandora's box with a sweet and holy kiss

Burn, burn, burn
the holy kingdom above
Desecrate the sanctuary
that houses all the holy angels
and bring death to earthly heaven

Beckon the devil's advocates
and the unholy king to unleash his wrath
All the sinful sons and daughters
gather on this holy matrimonial day
to blacken the air with their spite

The sweet flower beckoning
thus plucked
unlocks the horrid chest
Unleashing the hellish desires
that overrun the knight's young heart

Obliterating the purity
that had dominated
this once magnanimous soul
For the angel withers under the devil's touch
and all is lost in the material world

CHIVALRY IS DEAD!

SS# 158 Scary

2009-04-11T23:10:00.000-07:00

Fear starts
in the deepest part of our hearts
because that's where we keep things true

In the merciless fog we call doubt
there is no way out
but up towards the heavens

Yet we cannot fly
no matter how much we beg and cry
to sprout wings on our undeserving backs

We're left here to face
what we've tried so hard to erase
from our thoughts and everyday life

So we wander, wondering
how and when the end to this suffering
finally arrives

But is there a way
to find the light of day
in this cumbersome shroud?

My biggest fear probably is to keep burying things on top of another till it kills me from the inside out. D: That just sounds terrible.

Titles

2009-04-09T08:45:00.000-07:00

Title, title, where art thou?
A name to call this story now;
Far and wide, I have sought,
A worthy name to fit this plot;
A list, reaching down, down, down,
All the way to that god-forsaken town;
St. Ezra, the name of an unholy saint,
Cannot possibly be the title I hope to take;
Of angels and demons, metaphorically, of innocence and sin,
Some kind of title...come on... What a rut I'm in!

There's my dilemma for you...in nifty poem form. I have no fitting title for the re-write. But, I came here (since we have thirty minute periods b/c of an assembly before heading to Spring Break) to ask what defines a good title? Whether it's a story or even an essay (or a title for a person)... What does that title define for whatever object it's given?

I know that a title can't be given unless there was some sort of connection to, say...a book. The Metamorphosis obviously has some guy going through a great change. And The Idiot surely mentions...an idiot, to put it simply (but a lovable idiot at that). Oh. And a prime example: Harry Potter and the...(blah blah etc. etc.) You can't not know what's going to be introduced in the HP books if you haven't looked at the cover!

...So I'm sitting here wondering, and I have been sitting on this mental bench for awhile because all I can call my work now is Untitled or...the other names I listed next to all the character names and related poems. I've got to get focused on the main idea because, well, don't they sum up the most important part of a story? but in one word? (or three at best if you don't count those Panic! at the Disco songs...etc.)

A good title...before or after plot completion? :) Asking myself this, I say after plot completion. It only sounds right...*ponders*

Oh, Happy Thursday Bloggers it's almost the weekend and I hope everyone is pulling through fine...besides my title issue.

Mortal Peep Fight!...and a Screencap

2009-04-05T23:23:00.000-07:00

I don't know. :D Felt like posting something I've been laughing at for a while.

I never liked Peeps anyway.

Ooh, check this out too!

Congratulations on the 1000 views Luna! I came across it randomly, hope you don't mind :3

SS# 157 Celebration

2009-04-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

I've been choosing not to rhyme lately :) but this poem I had fun doing. When I hear "celebration" I immediately think of something happy...how about you? EDIT: finally gave the darn poem a title.

"The Misadventures of the Working Man"

i wander
and wonder
the desire of a celebration
on the day
when Death decided to creep closer...

“what is the purpose?”
i query to no one in particular
but all there is around me
is stark artifice
and the mocking blue sky

people abound
their suitcases and suits
with straightened ties
and snazzy haircuts
all have somewhere to go

while, i on the other hand
return to the emptiness
that is my apartment
down the street
of a begging homeless man

and somewhere along the curb
were the poorly disguised cars
and various transportation vehicles
of close friends and colleagues

with portfolio in hand
the key well into the lock
i take a deep breath
my eyes downcast
and open the door...

“SURPRISE!” they cry
CONGRATULATIONS!
writ on a banner on the wall
where balloons were set modestly
over a candle-lit cake

my dejected expression
caused the shouting party
to cease their revelry
and immediately became...
perplexed

as to what they were confused about
i didn't know, nor did i want to
but all i did know
was that the gathering was intended for my roommate
and i forgot to bring a present

...go me.

(hesitation)

2009-04-05T14:08:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to post something I thought was nice...though unrelated to me personally. :)

darkness surrounds
the depths of my mind
where dreams and hopes
illuminate this entity

like pandora's box
there is a key
and demons
with hope stashed in the very bottom

though where that key is...
it's in my hand
in my mind
as my greatest fear

do i?
must i?
i don't want to yet i have to
wake up and live and forget...

i dismiss my dream
as another phantasm
of a fragment of a memory i had lost
or a never ending night terror haunting me still

...my hesitation

what is it that i had forgotten?
what was it that led me here?
i see a box in the nightstand and a key in the drawer
i take the key with the desire to open it

...but I stop

the peal of childlike laughter
rings in my ears
clear like the resonant bell
that will ring on my wedding day

this box
i suddenly can't remember...the purpose
as i stood here
perplexed

then a voice calls
my name
and a time
to where i have to be in an hour

hearing this
i drop the key
and dress in a hurry
unawares of what i left behind

...the key to what i'd forgotten
wrapped in a pretty pink box
was the hope i had when i was twelve
to dance as elegantly as a swan

and somewhere along the lines
a faint tune could be heard
pachelbel's canon in d
in music box form

it was as if my heart had been pulled
like the strings of a violin
as i fell to the ground with grateful tears
to remember the dream i erased

the hesitation of hope
is purposeful i guess
for i'm grateful
for both the song and the two arms locked in a comforting embrace

only in a dream
does pandora's box close
but this isn't a dream isn't it?
soft words melding into a song...

a lullaby to quell
even the deepest of fears
for what i gave up is
for someone i equally loved.

The Sleepless Dreamer and Dreamless Sleepers

2009-04-03T18:48:00.000-07:00

Happy Friday everyone!

Alright, so maybe not everyone is having a happy Friday or a happy...whatever...but know that I wish you well wherever you are...and to backup your writings and important computer stuffs however you can.

I'm just glad the account documents were saved onto the Mac's hard disk...automatically.

Long story short, I just had the biggest computer scare I've had for awhile. The first was when my laptop was overwhelmed by some pesky malware that took over my desktop and tried to make me sign up for fraudulent virus prevention software. But I came out unscathed...except that that laptop's memory is F-R-I-E-D. Fried. I don't know if I've mentioned this but it wasn't mine in the first place anyways... It was my step-brother's R and he just played World of Warcraft (and did other stuff, I'm just not sure what) before giving it away (*cough*selling for a profit*cough*)

To rectify my past meaningless posts, I'll dig something from my piles of notes about what I'm working on (It's the weekend so I can focus on this finally!)...

I've always wanted to have a dreamy storytelling style. Dreamy in the sense that the reader is aware of the character's individual conscience and see through their perspective without using 1st person point of view. 1st per. PoV doesn't necessarily agree with me. You see, just because I like to explain myself, my empathetic nature really gets to me when I do a 1st prson narrative but I have to be able to focus on that character, as well as keep the atmosphere in the story similar to the atmosphere in real life. I doubt I can write a sad, harrowing scene when Pop music is playing or cartoons are blaring on the tv--just to give examples.

Moving along...a writer friend of mine said I write in third person omniscient and blah blah etc. etc. As much as there are technical names to label how a person writes, I honestly just want to write however this story comes to me. Surely, other writers feel the same way...until they take their work to a publisher. Now that's where we have to get a bit technical with how we do things, since everything's been written already--the dreamy part is over--writers revise according to how an editor sees fit. And, from what I gathered from the experiences of published authors, it's difficult. Editing, overall, is difficult..but they pull through it somehow.

...you know, that wasn't the topic I wanted to address, but I was thinking about it all the same.

So, sleepers and dreamers...don't take it the wrong way :) I'm working on the concept but I thought sharing it would be best.

How I defined these two terms came lightning fast in that epiphany-type moment or the shout-out-loud "Aha" moment. (Now I know I'm not the only one that's been reprimanded for talking loudly when it's dead silent...and yes, I've been perusing the Dictionaries and Thesauri laying around (even the ones at school)) Hmm...so what is the meaning to the blog title? Sleepless and dreamless are pretty self explanatory (as I thought to myself earlier today) but what about the other words? *starts rifling through notes and dictionary*

Dreamer: someone who has plans that are not practical; something beautiful that can only be seen in a dream...etc.
Sleep: to rest your mind and body by lying down with your eyes closed; any condition of inactivity or rest; death; Sleeper: One or who that which sleeps; someone or something thought to be unpromising that unexpectedly attains value, importance, notoriety, etc.

I found the school dictionary definitions to be lacking and...dumbed down, no offense, so I turned to my trusty thick Webster to give me the second halves of these definitions. (Can you believe the school ones didn't even have "sleeper" in it? I was momentarily confused when it wasn't there) but now that I have these I can move on. :)

Time slows and memory is an illusion
Those beyond the Holy city, drift into a profound sleep;
While those within live through this ice-cold reality
Throughout this dark delusion, one half seeks another--
The sleeper seeks the dreamer in order to find truth in the blinding fog.

The above probably won't make much sense since it's only part of a poem...most likely I should say. ^^'' So I came up with the following:

+ + + The sleepless dreamer is caught in their own delusions of what used to be (maybe of grandeur). Sleepless, means restless. Dreamer means one who looks not on reality but on fantasy or what does not exist...anymore. They, unlike sleepers, have long since blocked out the hurtful things in their life and, thus, cannot live in -this- reality because it is full of hurtful things. Another good way to put this is that they are in denial(?). The epitome of innocence (?).

+ + + The sleeper without dreams can be seen as a realist. They, having forgotten or forsaken the ways of being childlike in nature or heart, are on a path to self-destruction. They walk, indifferent, because of past conflicts, of broken promises...someone with a long memory. Being able to dream is being able to step in a children's world where answers are given as candidly as possible; "Dreams are the territory of children etc. etc."

I omitted a lot of stuff but there's a visual of my thought process for you. I thought it'd be a fun thing to share since I too wanted to know myself. I wanted to know whether I really do think better when I'm at the computer than on paper at school or anywhere else.

Hmm...most likely it's because: 1) I'm more comfortable here, especially since I can play awesome ambient music really loud where no one springs at me every few seconds asking what I'm listening to 2) I;m sitting in a comfortable chair and wear equally comfortable clothing 3) NO OUTSIDE DISTRACTIONS?! *laughs triumphantly*

Oh, and I have a lot of space to put my notes and junk without having to worry about people (again) asking what I'm doing and then attempt to get a peek at my papers and even have the gall to snatch them from my workspace and read stuff out loud D: Then again, I have this weird print-cursive writing style that causes people to scratch the back of their heads in wonder.

Its the weekend. I've got time. I'm fairly happy with the goings on in my life. I've got a functioning computer. Now I'm very happy...just because everything seems to be going well. So, I hope the length of this post can be excused. :3

EDIT: Hey it's the 60th post! *dances randomly and horribly*

Tiny note

2009-03-30T23:23:00.000-07:00

Hello, everybody! :)

Well, goodbye to posting or browsing at school and hello internet-life at home.

I don't have much to say except I have to get used to this whole Windows to Mac thing but so far, I'm loving the Mac.

In addition to having a working computer again--and having to catch up dreadfully on that English assignment due this Friday--I've been typing my butt off on my spazzy computer on that rewrite I promised ever since I decided to shut off LoF right in the middle...when something important was supposed to happen... but my memory isn't working as it's supposed to at the moment since there's a lot to do.

Hopefully, I can post something less rambly next time.

How's that for a tiny note? :D