So I forgot to say before...I WON NANOWRIMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Which means that I am allowed to punctuate obnoxiously in ways that would usually annoy me. Tehe. I don't think I even wrote on here that I was doing it, but it was awesome! I did it last year and won then also, but it was not quite as successful. I didn't finish the actual plot and...it was just kind of crappy. My novel this year is probably crappy as well, but I felt like I had a much better direction when I was writing, and I finished the story! And I love it, and I love the characters, and it is just awesome! And now there is a squirrel somewhere who loves me and is slightly in awe of my accomplishments, even though I couldn't get the shirt with him on it, sadly, since it was sold out.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Yaay.
So I forgot to say before...I WON NANOWRIMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Which means that I am allowed to punctuate obnoxiously in ways that would usually annoy me. Tehe. I don't think I even wrote on here that I was doing it, but it was awesome! I did it last year and won then also, but it was not quite as successful. I didn't finish the actual plot and...it was just kind of crappy. My novel this year is probably crappy as well, but I felt like I had a much better direction when I was writing, and I finished the story! And I love it, and I love the characters, and it is just awesome! And now there is a squirrel somewhere who loves me and is slightly in awe of my accomplishments, even though I couldn't get the shirt with him on it, sadly, since it was sold out.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Tag story! Finally!
For the lowdown, rules, and first installment go HERE
For the second Installment go HERE
For the third Installment go HERE
For the fourth Installment go HERE
And here, at last, is the fifth installment. It's not very good. But...it's done, finally!
"Look, Gretel! Up ahead there's trees with candy on them! It's not very far."
Gretel looked ahead to where here brother was pointing fervently and squinted to see through the trees. "Hansel..." she said, "that's in somebody's lawn. The forest ends up there. Those trees are across the street."
Hansel looked ahead and, after a moment, nodded. "Well...that's okay. I'm sure if we just explain what's going on, they won't mind."
"No, I'm sure it won't seem weird at all that a couple of teenagers are munching on their decorations on the claim that their father abandoned them in the forest to die."
Hansel looked at his sister and shrugged, tromping past her. "Look, let's just keep going, okay? I don't want you fainting out here."
Gretel sighed. "Fine."
They kept walking, until they finally reached the edge of the forest. They walked across the paved road and into the lawn on the other side. There were several large pine trees surrounding an old white house. Gretel looked at the candy on the tree--strung jawbreakers and wrapped candy canes--and hesitantly pulled off a jawbreaker. "This is weird," she said, popping the candy in her mouth. "How long do you think this candy's been out here?"
Hansel shrugged. "I don't know. It looks like Christmas stuff, but it's August." He looked at the white house down the driveway. "Maybe no one actually lives here anymore. It doesn't look very inhabited."
Gretel looked at the house as well, then back at the candy on the tree. "Well, if Dad does want us dead, and all this candy is just sitting here, we might as well take some. You know, to help us survive if we have to live in the streets or something."
"Weren't you just commenting on how old it was?" Hansel asked, raising an eyebrow at his sister.
"Well--" Gretel began, but stopped as a large black dog came running at them from behind the white house, barking and bearing its teeth as it ran straight for them.
I tag...Billi!
For the second Installment go HERE
For the third Installment go HERE
For the fourth Installment go HERE
And here, at last, is the fifth installment. It's not very good. But...it's done, finally!
"Look, Gretel! Up ahead there's trees with candy on them! It's not very far."
Gretel looked ahead to where here brother was pointing fervently and squinted to see through the trees. "Hansel..." she said, "that's in somebody's lawn. The forest ends up there. Those trees are across the street."
Hansel looked ahead and, after a moment, nodded. "Well...that's okay. I'm sure if we just explain what's going on, they won't mind."
"No, I'm sure it won't seem weird at all that a couple of teenagers are munching on their decorations on the claim that their father abandoned them in the forest to die."
Hansel looked at his sister and shrugged, tromping past her. "Look, let's just keep going, okay? I don't want you fainting out here."
Gretel sighed. "Fine."
They kept walking, until they finally reached the edge of the forest. They walked across the paved road and into the lawn on the other side. There were several large pine trees surrounding an old white house. Gretel looked at the candy on the tree--strung jawbreakers and wrapped candy canes--and hesitantly pulled off a jawbreaker. "This is weird," she said, popping the candy in her mouth. "How long do you think this candy's been out here?"
Hansel shrugged. "I don't know. It looks like Christmas stuff, but it's August." He looked at the white house down the driveway. "Maybe no one actually lives here anymore. It doesn't look very inhabited."
Gretel looked at the house as well, then back at the candy on the tree. "Well, if Dad does want us dead, and all this candy is just sitting here, we might as well take some. You know, to help us survive if we have to live in the streets or something."
"Weren't you just commenting on how old it was?" Hansel asked, raising an eyebrow at his sister.
"Well--" Gretel began, but stopped as a large black dog came running at them from behind the white house, barking and bearing its teeth as it ran straight for them.
I tag...Billi!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Fame and Heroics and Merry Larks
I know I have to write my tag story, and I promise I'll do it soon, Purl! But in the meantime...this is my short story from writing camp. Pardon the typos that are probably there. I was typing fast and tired.
There was something horrid about the moon. It hung like some kind of glowing snowball in the sky, and she hated it. She hated anything that reminded her of snow, actually. She'd come from a place where it snowed almost every day for eight months out of the year, and she was sick of it. That was, of course, why she left. Among other reasons.
Her name was Adelaide Franck, and she was going to be famous. Or at least, that's what she told everyone she met in the daytime, under the sun. She liked the sun. It wasn't something she was used to--feeling warm, like she herself could be aglow with some kind of fiery light.
In any case, she'd told Mr. Gray she was going to be famous just the other day. She'd just met him outside the diner, he'd asked her name, and she'd said, "I'm Adelaide Franck. I'm going to be famous," and shook his hand like she'd made some kind of comment on the weather.
He didn't seem to mind. A faint smile had brushed his lips as he looked over her bright colors from head to toe. "Ambitious of you," he'd said, meeting her eyes again. "I'm going to be a hero," he'd added.
She'd started, wondering if he was poking fun at her, laughing at all her goals in life, but she could find no trace of it in his eyes. He had gray eyes, which seemed fitting, but they weren't the boring, dull gray eyes that most gray-eyed men had. He seemed friendly enough and told her that perhaps they should compare notes sometime.
She'd agreed, with a somewhat suspicious glance at his black trench coat. She didn't like trench coats. She thought they were tacky. In any case, it didn't matter very much, because she hadn't seen him since. She'd met him two weeks ago and still no word. She didn't mind particularly, because he was, after all, just another businessman--who apparently wanted to be a hero, but that could hardly be trusted as the truth.
Now she was walking beneath the much hated moon on an empty street. She didn't want to go home. She didn't have much of a home to begin with. It was more of a dirty, rundown apartment where everything she owned was strewn as if a whirlwind had passed through. She hadn't even realized she owned so many things, until they seemed to expand to the maximum capacity of her apartment.
However, she didn't have anywhere to go besides home, so she simply continued on down the echoing street. She stopped in front of a statue of an angel and looked at the chiseled face and wings with etched feathers stretching out to reach the sky.
"Impressive, isn't it?" A man's voice spoke, stepping out of the shadow of the statue. He was wearing a trench coat.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Mr. Gray?"
He nodded, removing his black top hat with a small bow. "Miss Adelaide. I spotted you looking at my angel and thought I could join you in admiring her."
"Most people don't spend their midnight hours admiring statues."
"Very true," he replied, regarding her with a raised eyebrow.
She swallowed, realizing at once the hole she'd dug herself in. Still, she thought it was rude of him not to explain himself. She looked back at the angel and squared her jaw. "I wasn't admiring it," she said loudly, searching for a fault in the creature's features. There were none, which displeased her more. "And anyway, what makes her your angel?" she asked, turning back to Mr. Gray.
He smiled. "She's right outside my door, of course. I live there," he said, indicating the apartment buildings beside them.
Adelaide looked at the buildings, which, even from the outside, appeared much better kept up than her own. She took in a deep breath of air through her nose and raised her chin up. "Well, it's been quite interesting meeting with you again, Mr. Gray, but I'm afraid I must take my leave." She started to walk away and was interrupted by deep, throaty laughter. She whirled around to face the insulting man. "Mr. Gray, if there's something humorous in this situation, I'd like to hear it."
He only laughed louder, waving her response away.
She glared at him until he finally stopped, red-faced and grinning.
"Forgive me, Miss Adelaide. I don't mean to offend. It's only you're such a proud, self-absorbed thing."
She straightened, feeling her cheeks flame. "I--"
"No, don't protest, just come with me," he said, taking her arm and leading her down the sidewalk as he put his top hat back on his head. She tried to pull away, but he kept a tight grip on her. "You're going to be famous," he said, "yes?"
"Well--yes," she said. "You're going to be a hero." She crossed her arms as she spoke, managing to pull away from him slightly.
"Yes," he agreed. "I'm glad we understand each other. We both have absurdly impossible dreams. Now we can have a merry lark together as we tromp through the moonlit streets.
"I don't want to tromp through the moonlit streets with you!" she protested. "I don't even like the moon!"
"You don't like the moon?" Mr. Gray asked, jaw falling slack. "Then you haven't seen the moon. Come on!" He grabbed onto her arm again and started running, forcing her to run too if she wanted to avoid falling on her face.
"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.
He glanced sideways at her, grasping his top hat with his opposite hand to keep it on his head. He didn't say anything, just twitched his lips into a grin. They bounded over the red brick street. They didn't stop even to catch a breath until they'd gotten where he wanted them to be. It was a bridge, apparently, over a river or stream--some sort of running water.
"Now look at the moon in the water, and tell me it's not beautiful," he said, loosing his grip on her at last.
Adelaide jerked away from him and walked to the rail of the bridge, looking down. The water lay flat, except for the occasional ripple of pearly light, glistening on the surface. She looked at Mr. Gray with a shrug. He was watching her with two risen brows. "It's--sort of pretty," she admitted.
He smiled again. "You just don't want to admit anything's beautiful except yourself, do you? You really do have what it takes to be famous. Doesn't mean it'll happen, though." He came closer to her, set his top hat on the wooden rail and made a bow with his hand across his chest.
She eyed him with confusion, but he only took her hand in his, set the other on his shoulder, and put his own opposite hand on her waist, stepping off in a dignified waltz. "What are you doing?" she'd asked, stepping in time to music only he seemed to hear.
"Making you famous," he responded. He flashed a grin, and she spotted his straight white teeth. "After this, I'll tell everyone I know that I danced on the bridge in the moonlight with the most famous girl in the world, Adelaide Franck, and we had a lovely time."
She blinked and wondered if she'd ever met a stranger man. "Why would you do that?"
He shrugged. "I don't see any reason not to."
He sped to double time then, spinning them both in wild circles. The moon and the water blurred in her vision; they both glowed and shone, above her, below her, around her. The earth and sky were one dazzling mess of light.
When he decided it was over, she could only look at him. His gray eyes were like the stones at the bottom of a stream, smoothed from crushing water, secret in the deep.
He smiled and this time it seemed less that he was enjoying her as a character study and more that he was simply enjoying their time together. "Shall we walk, Miss Adelaide?" he asked, taking her arm again.
She walked with him. It didn't seem like there was anything better to do, and she was still dizzy from the dance. "Who are you?" she asked at last.
He snorted. "James Gray, businessman. From a small town. Nobody important."
They passed into the brighter part of the city. Streetlights shown orange-yellow, though the extra light was hardly needed with the way the moon was shining. There were a few clubs still open and roaring voices and laughter bubbled out. On the street corner, a man sat alone on a red bench, staring out at nothing.
Mr. Gray stopped in front of him, pulling her beside him. "Good citizen!" he shouted. "I have an announcement to make: I've just danced, on the bridge, in the moonlight, with the most famous girl in the world, Miss Adelaide Franck!"
The man blinked at him from under thick eyebrows, then glanced at Adelaide. "Good," he said after a moment, pulling at his gray beard, "good."
She shook her head as they moved on down the street. "You're crazy," she said. "I don't know if I like it."
He looked at her and smiled. "You do," he said. "I can feel it."
She narrowed her eyes at him and his black, business clothing. "You have an ugly trench coat," she said.
"You have a gaudy amount of colors on," he replied without batting an eye. "And I wouldn't be so rude to the man who just made you famous. I am going to continue telling people, you know, but I could change the story a bit."
She pulled her arm away from his and slapped him, not hard, but enough to make him flinch. "You wouldn't," she said. Then, "So what about you? You're going to be a hero."
He gave a half smile, like part of his mouth operated independently of the rest. "Yes. It was a dream I had when I came to the city. I was young and impressionable."
She raised an eyebrow at him, but kept walking. They were getting to the slums now--close to where she lived, actually. It was one of the reasons she didn't like being at home. There were always noises clattering in the night, dogs barking, shouting. Everything looked like it was crumbling apart, and it smelled--like too many people clumped into too small a space.
A boy was huddled against a building, pressed up with his back against it like he was trying to become a part of the wall. He was thin, cheeks taut against his bones, clothes hanging on him like curtains. She nudged Mr. Gray. "Here's your chance," she whispered.
He glanced at her and at the boy and gave a very small smile. He took off his hat carefully and walked over to the boy, kneeling down in front of him. "Here," he said, reaching into his pocket to take out two gold coins, "take these and buy yourself something to eat tomorrow. And if you're hungry after that, just come to 402 Lateral Street and ask for Mr. Gray."
The boy was quiet, staring ahead.
"Here," Mr. Gray repeated, "Take them."
The boy reached out a small hand to take the coins, then snatched them like he expected them to be withdrawn before he had the chance. He looked up at Mr. Gray with wide eyes. "Gee, thanks, Mister," he said before turning and running away.
He rejoined her after watching the boy disappear into the alleyways and they continued their stroll down the brick streets. He had a smile on his face that made him look more like a boy than the businessman he was.
"I'll tell everyone," Adelaide said, "about the heroic act of Mr. James Gray, saving the lives of starving street children."
The corner of his mouth lifted again, but he was quiet. "Maybe you shouldn't," he said finally. "Before, it was just--I wanted to be talked about and honored, you know? But that's not really heroic."
She crossed her arms at him. "Are you getting philosophical on me, James?"
"James?" he repeated. "Are we on a first name basis now? Isn't that a bit personal?"
She rolled her eyes. "You've been calling me Adelaide this whole time."
"Miss Adelaide," he corrected. "There's a difference."
"Well, I can call you Mr. James if you want, but that seems a bit ridiculous."
He laughed, shaking his head. "It's fine. Adelaide."
She looked at him and didn't say anything. They walked, and she tucked her arm back under his, even though he did have a horrible trench coat on. She supposed she could stand to be seen with him. They shared the silence of the street, nothing but the sound of their reverberating footsteps and the illuminating glow of the moon.
They reached the statue of the angel when the first gray tones were replacing the midnight color of the sky. she was bleary eyes and blinking, but she didn't mind. She didn't even mind the perfection of the angel. She glanced at James and smiled. "We should do this again sometime."
He looked down at her and gave a lopsided smile, but he didn't quite look in her eyes. "I'm leaving," he said at last, "on business. I don't know when--or if--I'll be back."
She pulled away from him abruptly. "What do you mean?" she asked.
He sighed, removing his hat and scratching at his hair. "I have to go tomorrow. I have...obligations to fulfill. I probably won't be back here."
"But what about me? What about--being a hero? What about everything?"
He shrugged. His eyes looked tired and dull. "The thing is...it was just a dream. It lasted one night, and now it's over. There's still real life to be lived." He looked at her the way someone looks at a naive child, and she decided that she hated him.
"What about that boy? You told him to ask for you if he was hungry, and now you won't even be there!" she shouted at him.
"If he asks for me, someone will help him. I'll make sure of that. I have to go. If I ever come back...I'll look for you, here."
She turned away, looking into the gray street. No one was awake yet. It was still empty and quiet. "Maybe I won't be here," she said in a low voice. "Maybe...I'll be famous." It sounded too strained for her to believe.
"I hope you are," James said. He pulled her left hand, turning her back towards him. "Adelaide," he said, "I'm sorry."
She said nothing, and after a moment he let go of her and disappeared into the apartment building. She turned to look at the stone angel, with those beautiful wings lifted to the sky. Chiseled in stone. Stone couldn't fly. She turned and walked away.
She came back to the statue after a few weeks and again after a few months. He wasn't there, and she got tired of spending moonlit nights alone. After staring at the glowing sphere for a while, she realized that she missed the snow. The way it sparkled under the sunlight could be beautiful. She decided to go back home and try living there again for a while, getting a real job. It wasn't very interesting, but it was life, she supposed.
Once, many months later, she hate in a diner and signed her name on a check, Adelaide Franck. The waiter took the check and started to move back to the cashier, but stopped abruptly. "Miss Adelaide Franck?" he asked, whirling around to face her with wide eyes.
She nodded. "Is there a problem?"
He shook his head. "No, ma'am, it's just--there was a fellow in here a week or two ago, and he said Miss Adelaide Franck was the most famous girl in the world, and he'd danced under the moonlight with her once. Is that you?"
She felt the corners of her mouth rise as she looked down at her purse on the table. "Yes," she said softly, "that's me. But I don't suppose he told you--I saw him save a child's life that night. Mr. James Gray is a hero."
There was something horrid about the moon. It hung like some kind of glowing snowball in the sky, and she hated it. She hated anything that reminded her of snow, actually. She'd come from a place where it snowed almost every day for eight months out of the year, and she was sick of it. That was, of course, why she left. Among other reasons.
Her name was Adelaide Franck, and she was going to be famous. Or at least, that's what she told everyone she met in the daytime, under the sun. She liked the sun. It wasn't something she was used to--feeling warm, like she herself could be aglow with some kind of fiery light.
In any case, she'd told Mr. Gray she was going to be famous just the other day. She'd just met him outside the diner, he'd asked her name, and she'd said, "I'm Adelaide Franck. I'm going to be famous," and shook his hand like she'd made some kind of comment on the weather.
He didn't seem to mind. A faint smile had brushed his lips as he looked over her bright colors from head to toe. "Ambitious of you," he'd said, meeting her eyes again. "I'm going to be a hero," he'd added.
She'd started, wondering if he was poking fun at her, laughing at all her goals in life, but she could find no trace of it in his eyes. He had gray eyes, which seemed fitting, but they weren't the boring, dull gray eyes that most gray-eyed men had. He seemed friendly enough and told her that perhaps they should compare notes sometime.
She'd agreed, with a somewhat suspicious glance at his black trench coat. She didn't like trench coats. She thought they were tacky. In any case, it didn't matter very much, because she hadn't seen him since. She'd met him two weeks ago and still no word. She didn't mind particularly, because he was, after all, just another businessman--who apparently wanted to be a hero, but that could hardly be trusted as the truth.
Now she was walking beneath the much hated moon on an empty street. She didn't want to go home. She didn't have much of a home to begin with. It was more of a dirty, rundown apartment where everything she owned was strewn as if a whirlwind had passed through. She hadn't even realized she owned so many things, until they seemed to expand to the maximum capacity of her apartment.
However, she didn't have anywhere to go besides home, so she simply continued on down the echoing street. She stopped in front of a statue of an angel and looked at the chiseled face and wings with etched feathers stretching out to reach the sky.
"Impressive, isn't it?" A man's voice spoke, stepping out of the shadow of the statue. He was wearing a trench coat.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Mr. Gray?"
He nodded, removing his black top hat with a small bow. "Miss Adelaide. I spotted you looking at my angel and thought I could join you in admiring her."
"Most people don't spend their midnight hours admiring statues."
"Very true," he replied, regarding her with a raised eyebrow.
She swallowed, realizing at once the hole she'd dug herself in. Still, she thought it was rude of him not to explain himself. She looked back at the angel and squared her jaw. "I wasn't admiring it," she said loudly, searching for a fault in the creature's features. There were none, which displeased her more. "And anyway, what makes her your angel?" she asked, turning back to Mr. Gray.
He smiled. "She's right outside my door, of course. I live there," he said, indicating the apartment buildings beside them.
Adelaide looked at the buildings, which, even from the outside, appeared much better kept up than her own. She took in a deep breath of air through her nose and raised her chin up. "Well, it's been quite interesting meeting with you again, Mr. Gray, but I'm afraid I must take my leave." She started to walk away and was interrupted by deep, throaty laughter. She whirled around to face the insulting man. "Mr. Gray, if there's something humorous in this situation, I'd like to hear it."
He only laughed louder, waving her response away.
She glared at him until he finally stopped, red-faced and grinning.
"Forgive me, Miss Adelaide. I don't mean to offend. It's only you're such a proud, self-absorbed thing."
She straightened, feeling her cheeks flame. "I--"
"No, don't protest, just come with me," he said, taking her arm and leading her down the sidewalk as he put his top hat back on his head. She tried to pull away, but he kept a tight grip on her. "You're going to be famous," he said, "yes?"
"Well--yes," she said. "You're going to be a hero." She crossed her arms as she spoke, managing to pull away from him slightly.
"Yes," he agreed. "I'm glad we understand each other. We both have absurdly impossible dreams. Now we can have a merry lark together as we tromp through the moonlit streets.
"I don't want to tromp through the moonlit streets with you!" she protested. "I don't even like the moon!"
"You don't like the moon?" Mr. Gray asked, jaw falling slack. "Then you haven't seen the moon. Come on!" He grabbed onto her arm again and started running, forcing her to run too if she wanted to avoid falling on her face.
"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.
He glanced sideways at her, grasping his top hat with his opposite hand to keep it on his head. He didn't say anything, just twitched his lips into a grin. They bounded over the red brick street. They didn't stop even to catch a breath until they'd gotten where he wanted them to be. It was a bridge, apparently, over a river or stream--some sort of running water.
"Now look at the moon in the water, and tell me it's not beautiful," he said, loosing his grip on her at last.
Adelaide jerked away from him and walked to the rail of the bridge, looking down. The water lay flat, except for the occasional ripple of pearly light, glistening on the surface. She looked at Mr. Gray with a shrug. He was watching her with two risen brows. "It's--sort of pretty," she admitted.
He smiled again. "You just don't want to admit anything's beautiful except yourself, do you? You really do have what it takes to be famous. Doesn't mean it'll happen, though." He came closer to her, set his top hat on the wooden rail and made a bow with his hand across his chest.
She eyed him with confusion, but he only took her hand in his, set the other on his shoulder, and put his own opposite hand on her waist, stepping off in a dignified waltz. "What are you doing?" she'd asked, stepping in time to music only he seemed to hear.
"Making you famous," he responded. He flashed a grin, and she spotted his straight white teeth. "After this, I'll tell everyone I know that I danced on the bridge in the moonlight with the most famous girl in the world, Adelaide Franck, and we had a lovely time."
She blinked and wondered if she'd ever met a stranger man. "Why would you do that?"
He shrugged. "I don't see any reason not to."
He sped to double time then, spinning them both in wild circles. The moon and the water blurred in her vision; they both glowed and shone, above her, below her, around her. The earth and sky were one dazzling mess of light.
When he decided it was over, she could only look at him. His gray eyes were like the stones at the bottom of a stream, smoothed from crushing water, secret in the deep.
He smiled and this time it seemed less that he was enjoying her as a character study and more that he was simply enjoying their time together. "Shall we walk, Miss Adelaide?" he asked, taking her arm again.
She walked with him. It didn't seem like there was anything better to do, and she was still dizzy from the dance. "Who are you?" she asked at last.
He snorted. "James Gray, businessman. From a small town. Nobody important."
They passed into the brighter part of the city. Streetlights shown orange-yellow, though the extra light was hardly needed with the way the moon was shining. There were a few clubs still open and roaring voices and laughter bubbled out. On the street corner, a man sat alone on a red bench, staring out at nothing.
Mr. Gray stopped in front of him, pulling her beside him. "Good citizen!" he shouted. "I have an announcement to make: I've just danced, on the bridge, in the moonlight, with the most famous girl in the world, Miss Adelaide Franck!"
The man blinked at him from under thick eyebrows, then glanced at Adelaide. "Good," he said after a moment, pulling at his gray beard, "good."
She shook her head as they moved on down the street. "You're crazy," she said. "I don't know if I like it."
He looked at her and smiled. "You do," he said. "I can feel it."
She narrowed her eyes at him and his black, business clothing. "You have an ugly trench coat," she said.
"You have a gaudy amount of colors on," he replied without batting an eye. "And I wouldn't be so rude to the man who just made you famous. I am going to continue telling people, you know, but I could change the story a bit."
She pulled her arm away from his and slapped him, not hard, but enough to make him flinch. "You wouldn't," she said. Then, "So what about you? You're going to be a hero."
He gave a half smile, like part of his mouth operated independently of the rest. "Yes. It was a dream I had when I came to the city. I was young and impressionable."
She raised an eyebrow at him, but kept walking. They were getting to the slums now--close to where she lived, actually. It was one of the reasons she didn't like being at home. There were always noises clattering in the night, dogs barking, shouting. Everything looked like it was crumbling apart, and it smelled--like too many people clumped into too small a space.
A boy was huddled against a building, pressed up with his back against it like he was trying to become a part of the wall. He was thin, cheeks taut against his bones, clothes hanging on him like curtains. She nudged Mr. Gray. "Here's your chance," she whispered.
He glanced at her and at the boy and gave a very small smile. He took off his hat carefully and walked over to the boy, kneeling down in front of him. "Here," he said, reaching into his pocket to take out two gold coins, "take these and buy yourself something to eat tomorrow. And if you're hungry after that, just come to 402 Lateral Street and ask for Mr. Gray."
The boy was quiet, staring ahead.
"Here," Mr. Gray repeated, "Take them."
The boy reached out a small hand to take the coins, then snatched them like he expected them to be withdrawn before he had the chance. He looked up at Mr. Gray with wide eyes. "Gee, thanks, Mister," he said before turning and running away.
He rejoined her after watching the boy disappear into the alleyways and they continued their stroll down the brick streets. He had a smile on his face that made him look more like a boy than the businessman he was.
"I'll tell everyone," Adelaide said, "about the heroic act of Mr. James Gray, saving the lives of starving street children."
The corner of his mouth lifted again, but he was quiet. "Maybe you shouldn't," he said finally. "Before, it was just--I wanted to be talked about and honored, you know? But that's not really heroic."
She crossed her arms at him. "Are you getting philosophical on me, James?"
"James?" he repeated. "Are we on a first name basis now? Isn't that a bit personal?"
She rolled her eyes. "You've been calling me Adelaide this whole time."
"Miss Adelaide," he corrected. "There's a difference."
"Well, I can call you Mr. James if you want, but that seems a bit ridiculous."
He laughed, shaking his head. "It's fine. Adelaide."
She looked at him and didn't say anything. They walked, and she tucked her arm back under his, even though he did have a horrible trench coat on. She supposed she could stand to be seen with him. They shared the silence of the street, nothing but the sound of their reverberating footsteps and the illuminating glow of the moon.
They reached the statue of the angel when the first gray tones were replacing the midnight color of the sky. she was bleary eyes and blinking, but she didn't mind. She didn't even mind the perfection of the angel. She glanced at James and smiled. "We should do this again sometime."
He looked down at her and gave a lopsided smile, but he didn't quite look in her eyes. "I'm leaving," he said at last, "on business. I don't know when--or if--I'll be back."
She pulled away from him abruptly. "What do you mean?" she asked.
He sighed, removing his hat and scratching at his hair. "I have to go tomorrow. I have...obligations to fulfill. I probably won't be back here."
"But what about me? What about--being a hero? What about everything?"
He shrugged. His eyes looked tired and dull. "The thing is...it was just a dream. It lasted one night, and now it's over. There's still real life to be lived." He looked at her the way someone looks at a naive child, and she decided that she hated him.
"What about that boy? You told him to ask for you if he was hungry, and now you won't even be there!" she shouted at him.
"If he asks for me, someone will help him. I'll make sure of that. I have to go. If I ever come back...I'll look for you, here."
She turned away, looking into the gray street. No one was awake yet. It was still empty and quiet. "Maybe I won't be here," she said in a low voice. "Maybe...I'll be famous." It sounded too strained for her to believe.
"I hope you are," James said. He pulled her left hand, turning her back towards him. "Adelaide," he said, "I'm sorry."
She said nothing, and after a moment he let go of her and disappeared into the apartment building. She turned to look at the stone angel, with those beautiful wings lifted to the sky. Chiseled in stone. Stone couldn't fly. She turned and walked away.
She came back to the statue after a few weeks and again after a few months. He wasn't there, and she got tired of spending moonlit nights alone. After staring at the glowing sphere for a while, she realized that she missed the snow. The way it sparkled under the sunlight could be beautiful. She decided to go back home and try living there again for a while, getting a real job. It wasn't very interesting, but it was life, she supposed.
Once, many months later, she hate in a diner and signed her name on a check, Adelaide Franck. The waiter took the check and started to move back to the cashier, but stopped abruptly. "Miss Adelaide Franck?" he asked, whirling around to face her with wide eyes.
She nodded. "Is there a problem?"
He shook his head. "No, ma'am, it's just--there was a fellow in here a week or two ago, and he said Miss Adelaide Franck was the most famous girl in the world, and he'd danced under the moonlight with her once. Is that you?"
She felt the corners of her mouth rise as she looked down at her purse on the table. "Yes," she said softly, "that's me. But I don't suppose he told you--I saw him save a child's life that night. Mr. James Gray is a hero."
Monday, August 24, 2009
School and Stuff
I have started school again now. It's a little bit lame. But it brings me all sorts of things to blog about! I really don't think that outweighs all the cons, but...look on the bright side, right?
Anyway, I actually have one class that I think will be really cool. It's Reader's Workshop, where we're going to read books in different genres and talk about the elements of the genres and stuff. The first one is Adventure...the book I'm reading isn't so good, though. I wanted a book about pirates, but the only one in the library is Angel's Command, which I would probably like if I was twelve years old...but...what can you do? The characters are pretty flat (and the talking dog is really annoying), but it's not long, so it shouldn't be difficult to get through. And then we're doing scifi! I'm going to read Ender's Game (which I bought for like $2!), which I'm pretty excited about. And we're also going to read graphic novels! And manga is allowed! I have wanted to read manga for a long time, and now I have a reason to! Yaaay! I'm going to read Code Geass. I read some fanfic for it once. Sometimes I do that. Read fanfics I don't know anything about. Yeah. But it looks really sweet, and I'm super excited.
This also brings to mind something else about school...my regular English class..."English 11." (It's really American Lit.) My teacher has decided that she wants to make us look at historical events from voices that weren't heard. Like the Arawaks! Did you know that Colombus enslaved and murdered a bunch of natives in the West Indies? And he apparently took the reward for seeing land first when someone else was the one who actually saw it first and told a bunch of lies to the king and queen of Spain. I'm utterly disappointed in him. But that's not exactly what I want to talk about...
I feel like some people are so interested in minorities that it becomes a crime to not be a minority. For example, in my English class, we also read these two poems, "I Hear America Singing" and "I, Too, Sing America." The first is by Walt Whitman who is celebrating the working class Americans and all the effort they put forth. And I think that's great, you know? Celebrating the life you know. But then, Langston Hughes in "I, Too, Sing America" seems to be very...sarcastic and mocking about the whole thing. Maybe he didn't intend to be, but with the way we're reading them together, it certainly seems that way. He says that he is "the darker brother" sent to "eat in the kitchen when company comes" but he eats well and grows strong. Tomorrow he'll be at the table and no one will dare tell him otherwise, and they'll see how beautiful he is and be ashamed, because he, too, is America. All right. Good for him. But is there something wrong with Whitman being proud of what he is, too? I don't think so! But I feel like it's seen that way a lot.
I guess what it comes down to is whether its wrong to not look at the whole picture. Must we all be concerned with everyone who is unlike ourselves, or is it all right to focus on our own people groups? I guess what I think is that you should be informed about all sides of things. You should try to be unbiased and find out what other people went through. But I also think you don't have to be a genius about it all. I don't really even think you have to be all that interested in. If you want to focus on your own type of people, I think that's fine, great even! You have that right. Everyone has that right. African Americans, Hispanics, and Caucasians. (And Asians and Indians and Eskimos and everyone else)
So, aside from all that awful thinking going on, there's also the social aspect of school to consider. And I have to admit, I fail at the social aspects. (Yes, expect some dreadful angst here. You might even want to skip this whole part.) I'm kind one of those Girl Who Never Talks stereotypes. I hate that, you know? You're so much more than your stereotype, but everyone molds into their stereotypes, myself included. Now I feel like it would be sort of unprecedented for me to be loud and obnoxious, though sometimes I want to. But not really, because I don't really have anything to say...I don't know what it is, exactly, but I feel like at school I really just...don't have a clue what to say to anyone. Sometimes I think it's just a difference of interests, sometimes I think I've just gotten so much in the habit of not talking that I don't know how to start. I suppose it's somewhat of both and others things, probably.
Anyway, it's sort of dreadful, because sometimes I don't feel like I have any friends. But I do have friends. Not super duper close friends, but pretty good friends, and I try to manage to not be entirely silent around them. I'm a bit sad, because a lot of my guy friends...or...the guys that I enjoy being around more than the others (I still don't really talk to them a whole lot) are not in many of classes anymore. It makes me very sad. They are some spiffy dudes. Not like nice, gallant gentleman, but they're sarcastic, which makes them entertaining to be around, and smart, which makes them good to be around in difficult classes, and I get the feeling they respect me, for my intelligence (4.0 -dances-) and not being annoying and/or skanky.
Annd, on the subject of guys, I think that (a) I am a fickle woman, and (b) I actually have a rather healthy crush at the moment...if crushes can be healthy, that is. As for the former, this is because I...really am. I like a guy. Then I don't. Then I do. I think I decided that this is because I hold on to vague crushes for much longer than I should. I might still like all the guys I've liked for ten years, but in very small amounts. But then occasionally, my feelings resurface, and for a day or two, I'll really like them again. But then it passes. Now, though, I mainly like one guy...sort of one of my vague crushes, only it has lasted longer than a day! But not in a bad way. It is a healthy crush because: I am not obsessed with him. I don't spend all my time dreaming about him, and I don't have any illusions about our relationship. He doesn't have any feelings for me beyond friendship and a vague one at that. I don't have any feelings that we have some special secret looks or interactions. There is nothing between us. I just like being around him. And it's great.
Except that I'm a little bit jealous. Don't worry, he doesn't have a girlfriend. But there is a girl, let's call her Jane, and she talks to him more than I do. Which is fine. I don't really have a problem with that; I'm not a crazy possessive girl, I promise. It's just...Jane is the sort of girl everyone wants to be. Not because she's gorgeous and popular--it's not that sort of stereotype--it's that she's quirky and confident, and she talks to all the teachers and sits with a table of pretty much all guys at lunch, and she's just really...actually, I don't know. I'm not good at describing people.
Anyway, I try not to be too jealous. It's difficult sometimes, because she sort of has the high school life I always wanted to have, but really I know I'm much happier being me. I like the way I think. ...That sounded kind of weird, but it's true. I like the way I overanalyze things and make strange comparisons to literature and random fandoms and am good at writing and a heap of other things. And I like Jane being the way she is. We're sort of friends. We're both in drama and things like that, and we get along. But, you know, sometimes that teenage angst just bleeds through.
Anyway, I actually have one class that I think will be really cool. It's Reader's Workshop, where we're going to read books in different genres and talk about the elements of the genres and stuff. The first one is Adventure...the book I'm reading isn't so good, though. I wanted a book about pirates, but the only one in the library is Angel's Command, which I would probably like if I was twelve years old...but...what can you do? The characters are pretty flat (and the talking dog is really annoying), but it's not long, so it shouldn't be difficult to get through. And then we're doing scifi! I'm going to read Ender's Game (which I bought for like $2!), which I'm pretty excited about. And we're also going to read graphic novels! And manga is allowed! I have wanted to read manga for a long time, and now I have a reason to! Yaaay! I'm going to read Code Geass. I read some fanfic for it once. Sometimes I do that. Read fanfics I don't know anything about. Yeah. But it looks really sweet, and I'm super excited.
This also brings to mind something else about school...my regular English class..."English 11." (It's really American Lit.) My teacher has decided that she wants to make us look at historical events from voices that weren't heard. Like the Arawaks! Did you know that Colombus enslaved and murdered a bunch of natives in the West Indies? And he apparently took the reward for seeing land first when someone else was the one who actually saw it first and told a bunch of lies to the king and queen of Spain. I'm utterly disappointed in him. But that's not exactly what I want to talk about...
I feel like some people are so interested in minorities that it becomes a crime to not be a minority. For example, in my English class, we also read these two poems, "I Hear America Singing" and "I, Too, Sing America." The first is by Walt Whitman who is celebrating the working class Americans and all the effort they put forth. And I think that's great, you know? Celebrating the life you know. But then, Langston Hughes in "I, Too, Sing America" seems to be very...sarcastic and mocking about the whole thing. Maybe he didn't intend to be, but with the way we're reading them together, it certainly seems that way. He says that he is "the darker brother" sent to "eat in the kitchen when company comes" but he eats well and grows strong. Tomorrow he'll be at the table and no one will dare tell him otherwise, and they'll see how beautiful he is and be ashamed, because he, too, is America. All right. Good for him. But is there something wrong with Whitman being proud of what he is, too? I don't think so! But I feel like it's seen that way a lot.
I guess what it comes down to is whether its wrong to not look at the whole picture. Must we all be concerned with everyone who is unlike ourselves, or is it all right to focus on our own people groups? I guess what I think is that you should be informed about all sides of things. You should try to be unbiased and find out what other people went through. But I also think you don't have to be a genius about it all. I don't really even think you have to be all that interested in. If you want to focus on your own type of people, I think that's fine, great even! You have that right. Everyone has that right. African Americans, Hispanics, and Caucasians. (And Asians and Indians and Eskimos and everyone else)
So, aside from all that awful thinking going on, there's also the social aspect of school to consider. And I have to admit, I fail at the social aspects. (Yes, expect some dreadful angst here. You might even want to skip this whole part.) I'm kind one of those Girl Who Never Talks stereotypes. I hate that, you know? You're so much more than your stereotype, but everyone molds into their stereotypes, myself included. Now I feel like it would be sort of unprecedented for me to be loud and obnoxious, though sometimes I want to. But not really, because I don't really have anything to say...I don't know what it is, exactly, but I feel like at school I really just...don't have a clue what to say to anyone. Sometimes I think it's just a difference of interests, sometimes I think I've just gotten so much in the habit of not talking that I don't know how to start. I suppose it's somewhat of both and others things, probably.
Anyway, it's sort of dreadful, because sometimes I don't feel like I have any friends. But I do have friends. Not super duper close friends, but pretty good friends, and I try to manage to not be entirely silent around them. I'm a bit sad, because a lot of my guy friends...or...the guys that I enjoy being around more than the others (I still don't really talk to them a whole lot) are not in many of classes anymore. It makes me very sad. They are some spiffy dudes. Not like nice, gallant gentleman, but they're sarcastic, which makes them entertaining to be around, and smart, which makes them good to be around in difficult classes, and I get the feeling they respect me, for my intelligence (4.0 -dances-) and not being annoying and/or skanky.
Annd, on the subject of guys, I think that (a) I am a fickle woman, and (b) I actually have a rather healthy crush at the moment...if crushes can be healthy, that is. As for the former, this is because I...really am. I like a guy. Then I don't. Then I do. I think I decided that this is because I hold on to vague crushes for much longer than I should. I might still like all the guys I've liked for ten years, but in very small amounts. But then occasionally, my feelings resurface, and for a day or two, I'll really like them again. But then it passes. Now, though, I mainly like one guy...sort of one of my vague crushes, only it has lasted longer than a day! But not in a bad way. It is a healthy crush because: I am not obsessed with him. I don't spend all my time dreaming about him, and I don't have any illusions about our relationship. He doesn't have any feelings for me beyond friendship and a vague one at that. I don't have any feelings that we have some special secret looks or interactions. There is nothing between us. I just like being around him. And it's great.
Except that I'm a little bit jealous. Don't worry, he doesn't have a girlfriend. But there is a girl, let's call her Jane, and she talks to him more than I do. Which is fine. I don't really have a problem with that; I'm not a crazy possessive girl, I promise. It's just...Jane is the sort of girl everyone wants to be. Not because she's gorgeous and popular--it's not that sort of stereotype--it's that she's quirky and confident, and she talks to all the teachers and sits with a table of pretty much all guys at lunch, and she's just really...actually, I don't know. I'm not good at describing people.
Anyway, I try not to be too jealous. It's difficult sometimes, because she sort of has the high school life I always wanted to have, but really I know I'm much happier being me. I like the way I think. ...That sounded kind of weird, but it's true. I like the way I overanalyze things and make strange comparisons to literature and random fandoms and am good at writing and a heap of other things. And I like Jane being the way she is. We're sort of friends. We're both in drama and things like that, and we get along. But, you know, sometimes that teenage angst just bleeds through.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Virth & Aida have an epiphany...
From my story, Hearts of the Innocent. This is the product of meeting scenes gone horribly wrong. It was getting progressively worse, so then I decided to copy and paste the part that I wrote for my teaser trailer, and then it...went a little bit crazy from there. Crack!fic.
The lodge was crowded, thick with voices straining to be heard over everyone else. She was growing tired of listening, of hearing arguing, of ideas that were going nowhere.
"We need a plan," Alexander's voice rose above the rest.
"I think we have one," said the stranger, the dark eyed man she'd seen arrive earlier. His voice was smooth and polished, but something about him seemed off putting. "We go to the princess's courtyard, open the tombs, and wake her. It's simple."
Virth's face was set in stone as his voice droned in a warning. "Nothing is simple with the Ageless. They'll know we're there. They can trace me as soon as I'm out of this forest." He glanced sideways at her and she saw him breathe. "And they can trace Aida too."
"What?"
"You mean she was actually...cut?"
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I didn't think it would matter. They won't come here, but anywhere else...THEY HAVE REMNANTS OF YOU! THEY WILL FIND YOU AND KILL YOU! Me too, though, so it's okay. We can die together."
"Virth, I really don't want to die, with or without you."
"What, you're not happy to die for the cause of innocence and compassion and all that?"
Everyone was shocked and appalled and waited to hear her answer.
"Well...no."
"Me neither!"
She smiled wanly. "So...are we kicked out of this little group?"
Virth looked at the head of the table. "Alexander?"
Alexander shuffled his feet. "Well, I hate to say it, but...I think so. Sorry, guys. Love you."
Virth stood up. "It's alright. We can see the world together and live! Aida, will you go with me to the end of the earth, or just...you know...somewhere where we can live a nice, quiet life to the end of our days."
The lodge was crowded, thick with voices straining to be heard over everyone else. She was growing tired of listening, of hearing arguing, of ideas that were going nowhere.
"We need a plan," Alexander's voice rose above the rest.
"I think we have one," said the stranger, the dark eyed man she'd seen arrive earlier. His voice was smooth and polished, but something about him seemed off putting. "We go to the princess's courtyard, open the tombs, and wake her. It's simple."
Virth's face was set in stone as his voice droned in a warning. "Nothing is simple with the Ageless. They'll know we're there. They can trace me as soon as I'm out of this forest." He glanced sideways at her and she saw him breathe. "And they can trace Aida too."
"What?"
"You mean she was actually...cut?"
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I didn't think it would matter. They won't come here, but anywhere else...THEY HAVE REMNANTS OF YOU! THEY WILL FIND YOU AND KILL YOU! Me too, though, so it's okay. We can die together."
"Virth, I really don't want to die, with or without you."
"What, you're not happy to die for the cause of innocence and compassion and all that?"
Everyone was shocked and appalled and waited to hear her answer.
"Well...no."
"Me neither!"
She smiled wanly. "So...are we kicked out of this little group?"
Virth looked at the head of the table. "Alexander?"
Alexander shuffled his feet. "Well, I hate to say it, but...I think so. Sorry, guys. Love you."
Virth stood up. "It's alright. We can see the world together and live! Aida, will you go with me to the end of the earth, or just...you know...somewhere where we can live a nice, quiet life to the end of our days."
She stood up as well. "Of course, Virth. You know I love you. As long as I don't have to die for you or anything."
"Excellent. Take my hand."
She took his hand and they walked out of the lodge together, to start their new lives on a new continent called...North America, where they met a young girl named Pocahontas. She had an innocent heart too. Unfortunately, it was corrupted by John Smith. John Smith and Virth got along really well.
fin. I know, it's...um...insane? Haha. But I think it helped me unwind my feelings of frustration toward the meeting scene in general by having them hang the whole thing. Now perhaps I will be able to write it better without losing my mind.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Poetry
Generally, I don't do poetry, because I don't understand or enjoy it very much. But we had to do the poetry project last year, and I was sort of fond of these, so I thought I'd post them.
The first is about Virth, from my story Hearts of the Innocent, which you should all read. It's about...well, it's kind of complicated. There are these people called the Ageless who are sort of a curse and...it's actually Sleeping Beauty, but there's a lot more going on...jumping into people's hearts and such...
Vivid memories grace his brow
In his land of grey stone and
Rock, where he waits for a
Tomorrow that depends on his
Heart
And the next one is about my other story that I finished a while ago, Golden Sands. It's kind of about the climax and Tahir and Xavia's (supposed) last moments together and such...
In Just-
two minutes
everything might be gone
buried under the long wide
desert but-
righthererightnow it's notit'snotit'snot
In just-
now we're here
under the sapphire ocean-calm sky and the
golden sand upon golden sandupongoldensandupon
And we are here
Together
Though we must part and
everything might fade and I must-
no-
die
For only you
In just-
this moment
And this one...is just random. Make what you will out of it.
It is still raining.
It always rains here, does it not?
Perhaps, but—
No. There was a season—
It was golden.
She was lovely.
He was a—
Foreign stranger
King and sovereign
Beast.
She was dancing
Through the forest
When she came upon a—
Bush of berries
Wondrous palace
Fort.
She dreamed a dream
He wished a wish, but—
Things came between
He didn't know her
Wouldn't listen
Pig-headed, I say.
That was when—
He disappeared
She ran away
The sword was at her throat, when—
Splat!
Drop of water through the roof
Get a bucket, quick!
It is still raining.
It rains here—
All the time.
The first is about Virth, from my story Hearts of the Innocent, which you should all read. It's about...well, it's kind of complicated. There are these people called the Ageless who are sort of a curse and...it's actually Sleeping Beauty, but there's a lot more going on...jumping into people's hearts and such...
Vivid memories grace his brow
In his land of grey stone and
Rock, where he waits for a
Tomorrow that depends on his
Heart
And the next one is about my other story that I finished a while ago, Golden Sands. It's kind of about the climax and Tahir and Xavia's (supposed) last moments together and such...
In Just-
two minutes
everything might be gone
buried under the long wide
desert but-
righthererightnow it's notit'snotit'snot
In just-
now we're here
under the sapphire ocean-calm sky and the
golden sand upon golden sandupongoldensandupon
And we are here
Together
Though we must part and
everything might fade and I must-
no-
die
For only you
In just-
this moment
And this one...is just random. Make what you will out of it.
It is still raining.
It always rains here, does it not?
Perhaps, but—
No. There was a season—
It was golden.
She was lovely.
He was a—
Foreign stranger
King and sovereign
Beast.
She was dancing
Through the forest
When she came upon a—
Bush of berries
Wondrous palace
Fort.
She dreamed a dream
He wished a wish, but—
Things came between
He didn't know her
Wouldn't listen
Pig-headed, I say.
That was when—
He disappeared
She ran away
The sword was at her throat, when—
Splat!
Drop of water through the roof
Get a bucket, quick!
It is still raining.
It rains here—
All the time.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
P&P&Z
So I just finished reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I'd give it a two out of five star rating. It was an interesting idea, adding zombies to the classic tale, and I was quite excited to read it. It had several really good lines in it where parts of the actual texts were mixed in with...zombieish things that were rather hilarious, but overall, it just didn't work.
The biggest problem was that the zombies didn't add anything to the story. They were just sort of there as pests that were occasionally dealt with in little side parts that did nothing for the actual book. It made the whole thing seem really choppy. It would roll along with normal Jane Austen stuff, then suddenly Elizabeth goes and kills some zombies, then back to the original plotline. It just didn't mesh. And if you're going to write something like this, it needs to have an AU feel to it...I'm a fanfiction girl, so I'm familiar with this sort of Alternate Universe fic. This is a universe with zombies. So make it matter! The zombies in this did nothing. They were barely involved with the plot. I felt like he just took the book, and then inserted zombie killing and descriptions into random parts.
Also, the characters. They were a lot less likable in this version of the book. The clearest example of this was Elizabeth as a zombie slayer... I really didn't like that. I felt like it could have worked, maybe, if he'd handled it better. As it was, it was just annoying and ridiculous. I realize that the book is supposed to be ridiculous, but really, if she's a trained killer, she's going to keep a cool head about things. Instead, she's always running about wanting to kill anyone who insults her in the slightest. When Darcy first insults at the ball, she wants to cut his throat. It's...really odd. She seems to just have no self control, which she should have a lot of, being trained in the Orient as a warrior. Also, side note: The Orient. I got so sick of hearing about it. She mentions it so many times. It's ridiculous. Whenever anyone says anything about her ability to do such and such, she always replies with how they forget that she trained in the Orient under Master...whatever his name was and blah blah blah. I don't care about the Orient!!! And the other most annoying character changes involved Darcy. He was not really much of a gentleman, in my opinion. He severely beat Georgiana's governess who let her plan to elope with Wickham, and he rendered Wickham lame before making him marry Lydia. That seemed really unnecessary to me. Also, there were some changes in his dialogue, especially towards the beginning with Miss Bingley and such where he wasn't just taciturn, but he was really rude. Most uncharacteristic. Mr. Bennett had some of those moments, too, with his wife, where I really don't think he would have said that.
And finally, the book was just plain boring. As I mentioned, the zombies had no actual effect on the plot, so the majority of it really was just Pride and Prejudice dumbed down, without the hinted sarcasm which was replaced with general rudeness and such. I did not enjoy it very much, which was sad, as it did have potential.
The biggest problem was that the zombies didn't add anything to the story. They were just sort of there as pests that were occasionally dealt with in little side parts that did nothing for the actual book. It made the whole thing seem really choppy. It would roll along with normal Jane Austen stuff, then suddenly Elizabeth goes and kills some zombies, then back to the original plotline. It just didn't mesh. And if you're going to write something like this, it needs to have an AU feel to it...I'm a fanfiction girl, so I'm familiar with this sort of Alternate Universe fic. This is a universe with zombies. So make it matter! The zombies in this did nothing. They were barely involved with the plot. I felt like he just took the book, and then inserted zombie killing and descriptions into random parts.
Also, the characters. They were a lot less likable in this version of the book. The clearest example of this was Elizabeth as a zombie slayer... I really didn't like that. I felt like it could have worked, maybe, if he'd handled it better. As it was, it was just annoying and ridiculous. I realize that the book is supposed to be ridiculous, but really, if she's a trained killer, she's going to keep a cool head about things. Instead, she's always running about wanting to kill anyone who insults her in the slightest. When Darcy first insults at the ball, she wants to cut his throat. It's...really odd. She seems to just have no self control, which she should have a lot of, being trained in the Orient as a warrior. Also, side note: The Orient. I got so sick of hearing about it. She mentions it so many times. It's ridiculous. Whenever anyone says anything about her ability to do such and such, she always replies with how they forget that she trained in the Orient under Master...whatever his name was and blah blah blah. I don't care about the Orient!!! And the other most annoying character changes involved Darcy. He was not really much of a gentleman, in my opinion. He severely beat Georgiana's governess who let her plan to elope with Wickham, and he rendered Wickham lame before making him marry Lydia. That seemed really unnecessary to me. Also, there were some changes in his dialogue, especially towards the beginning with Miss Bingley and such where he wasn't just taciturn, but he was really rude. Most uncharacteristic. Mr. Bennett had some of those moments, too, with his wife, where I really don't think he would have said that.
And finally, the book was just plain boring. As I mentioned, the zombies had no actual effect on the plot, so the majority of it really was just Pride and Prejudice dumbed down, without the hinted sarcasm which was replaced with general rudeness and such. I did not enjoy it very much, which was sad, as it did have potential.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Webcomics and the Campaign for Deeper Thought
So recently, I have become involved with reading webcomics. These are delightful comics posted online with interesting artwork and often very long, intriguing stories. No Rest for the Wicked is a good one, involving several rather fractured fairytales and starring Perrault...as a cat...he's quite the character. But the one I really want to discuss is a webcomic called Hero.
Hero is...stunning, to put it lightly. The artwork is beautiful, a bit off the usual, but gorgeous. And the story...I don't know what to say about the story. It's written in boxes that appear as you move your mouse over the pictures, so it can be a lot longer and have a lot more depth than a lot of comics that just have the words going along with the pictures. And the writing style is beautiful.
It's the story of a boy who lives a fairly normal life, but he has no memory of who he is. Then one day, he goes on a journey and learns about cities and the spaces between them, and people and the spaces between them. I don't want to say too much about it in case any of you read it (which I highly encourage you to do), but it's really intriguing. ...I made an attempt to give more information on things, but I'm kind of bad at summarizing things, so instead I'm just going to include a few quotes and hopefully not get in trouble for it.
"I'm sorry," Valentine says, although the crime he apologizes for is lost in the mists of silence and memory, invisible to me.
"You're not," the Lady says. "Don't change so suddenly, Valentine Liosbri. Saint Valentine the honest; even if it also makes you unspeakably cruel."
"I don't understand," Valentine says. "Would you rather I'd been kind, and false?"
"If you could not have been kind to me," the Lady says, "I wanted to believe that you could not have been kind to anything at all."
Valentine is one of my favorite characters. He's really intriguing.
The closer the ground comes, the more I think of this one possibility: to be invincible, like Valentine and his sister, and never have to worry about what will happen to you, because you will always survive it.
Given the choice, who would not want to be invincible?
"But if you are truly invincible, then you can have nothing," someone once said.
"The more we posess something and the more precious it becomes to us, the more it hurts to lose it. And to be invincible, you cannot be hurt by anything--"
And I remember someone else's reply:
"Being invincible means you can't lose anything."
So basically, I think Hero is amazing, and you should all read it. One thing, though, that you need to keep in mind is that it's a totally different world. I know some people who would protest it because the boy at the beginning lives with a witch, but she's not what you typically think of as a witch and isn't evil, or anything. Also, there's this kind of war between the golems and the demons...but it's not like demons from hell or something, because their god system is way different and strange. What I'm trying to say, more or less, is don't reject it as being evil just because it's different! The demons were humans who are basically invincible, except when they care about things, and they do care about their siblings and friends, and so, it creates some problems, and...it's really interesting.
And so, my rambling there leads into my next point: the Campaign for Deeper Thought! Haha. What I'm getting at here, I guess, is that Hero is really deep, and really made me think and such, hence my talking about it being very confusing and probably not quite understandable. And I want to write deep things too! But I don't think I am...really. And I need to have complex characters. Valentine is super complex. And he sort of reminded me of one of my own characters, Virth, in a way, but lately Virth has been...not very complex. And he's been like doing nothing for a hundred years, so he ought to have some complex thoughts on things or something.
So I've decided to...write deeper. Think harder. Of course, I don't want things to be too much of an ordeal, though, but basically...complex characters! I want to make my characters torn and conflicted and wondering who they are and what they're doing. Which sounds like I just want them to be really confused about life, but that was not really what I meant...I just think that the world, of writing, particularly, could use more Deeper Thought. So...I'm...starting the Campaign? Or I just thought it sounded cool. I'm not totally even sure what I'm trying to say anymore. Maybe just that I was awed by Hero and want to write something cool like that? So that's what I'm trying to do. Without copying it. Just...thinking deeper.
Hero is...stunning, to put it lightly. The artwork is beautiful, a bit off the usual, but gorgeous. And the story...I don't know what to say about the story. It's written in boxes that appear as you move your mouse over the pictures, so it can be a lot longer and have a lot more depth than a lot of comics that just have the words going along with the pictures. And the writing style is beautiful.
It's the story of a boy who lives a fairly normal life, but he has no memory of who he is. Then one day, he goes on a journey and learns about cities and the spaces between them, and people and the spaces between them. I don't want to say too much about it in case any of you read it (which I highly encourage you to do), but it's really intriguing. ...I made an attempt to give more information on things, but I'm kind of bad at summarizing things, so instead I'm just going to include a few quotes and hopefully not get in trouble for it.
"I'm sorry," Valentine says, although the crime he apologizes for is lost in the mists of silence and memory, invisible to me.
"You're not," the Lady says. "Don't change so suddenly, Valentine Liosbri. Saint Valentine the honest; even if it also makes you unspeakably cruel."
"I don't understand," Valentine says. "Would you rather I'd been kind, and false?"
"If you could not have been kind to me," the Lady says, "I wanted to believe that you could not have been kind to anything at all."
Valentine is one of my favorite characters. He's really intriguing.
The closer the ground comes, the more I think of this one possibility: to be invincible, like Valentine and his sister, and never have to worry about what will happen to you, because you will always survive it.
Given the choice, who would not want to be invincible?
"But if you are truly invincible, then you can have nothing," someone once said.
"The more we posess something and the more precious it becomes to us, the more it hurts to lose it. And to be invincible, you cannot be hurt by anything--"
And I remember someone else's reply:
"Being invincible means you can't lose anything."
So basically, I think Hero is amazing, and you should all read it. One thing, though, that you need to keep in mind is that it's a totally different world. I know some people who would protest it because the boy at the beginning lives with a witch, but she's not what you typically think of as a witch and isn't evil, or anything. Also, there's this kind of war between the golems and the demons...but it's not like demons from hell or something, because their god system is way different and strange. What I'm trying to say, more or less, is don't reject it as being evil just because it's different! The demons were humans who are basically invincible, except when they care about things, and they do care about their siblings and friends, and so, it creates some problems, and...it's really interesting.
And so, my rambling there leads into my next point: the Campaign for Deeper Thought! Haha. What I'm getting at here, I guess, is that Hero is really deep, and really made me think and such, hence my talking about it being very confusing and probably not quite understandable. And I want to write deep things too! But I don't think I am...really. And I need to have complex characters. Valentine is super complex. And he sort of reminded me of one of my own characters, Virth, in a way, but lately Virth has been...not very complex. And he's been like doing nothing for a hundred years, so he ought to have some complex thoughts on things or something.
So I've decided to...write deeper. Think harder. Of course, I don't want things to be too much of an ordeal, though, but basically...complex characters! I want to make my characters torn and conflicted and wondering who they are and what they're doing. Which sounds like I just want them to be really confused about life, but that was not really what I meant...I just think that the world, of writing, particularly, could use more Deeper Thought. So...I'm...starting the Campaign? Or I just thought it sounded cool. I'm not totally even sure what I'm trying to say anymore. Maybe just that I was awed by Hero and want to write something cool like that? So that's what I'm trying to do. Without copying it. Just...thinking deeper.
Monday, July 6, 2009
A Catcher Upper
So a lot has happened since my last post, and I feel I should fill you all in. All...three of you who might be reading this? Anyway, last I said, I was...going to my cabin, yes? Alright, to begin there.
I went to my cabin. We put the boats in the lake successfully, except for the little fishing boat, which we just tried to put in today only to find that the motor was not working. What a downer. I also went to town and found that Candyboy is still working, but I'm not totally sure he remembers me. For those of you who don't know, I kind of had a...smiling/waving relationship with this guy who works in a candy store behind a glass wall making peanut brittle. And cashew brittle...anyway, he didn't wave at me. I was sad. I'm not sure what to do to renew our relationship...maybe he just doesn't know if I remember him. Or maybe he wants to terminate our interactions! That would be so sad. He's such a cute boy. I suppose I shall begin smiling at him again. I feel like maybe I should wave, but then if he didn't know who I was...that could be awkward.
Following the cabin, I went to writing camp! It was kind of AMAZING. I met so many cool people. And my teacher...he was awesome. And gorgeous. Haha. He was kind of the most awkward guy ever, but all the (5) girls in my class adored him! And we had the best workshop ever. We had themed workshop days and put our desks into a super close circle (uncomfortably near), which our teacher scooted back from a bit, a smiley face, and an N for his name, Nick. And on the last day we brought juice and candy and cookies.
We also had prom at writing camp, because some of the counselors never attended their high school prom, and they always have a dance party at the end, but this time they decided it would be prom. Our theme was "Boats!" and we played that song...I'm on a boat...and it was pretty epic. We made some nice posters with pictures from the Titanic and Jaws and Peter Pan and various other boat related things. Some guys dressed up like pirates...and one of the guys in my class ended up looking more like Aladdin, but I kind of loved it. I love Aladdin so much, and the guy in my class...was pretty awesome.
I also spent a lot of time considering the symbolism in Sleeping Beauty, discovering the sketchiness of everyone and everything, going on Missions Inscribable, writing poems on the sidewalks with chalk, being proposed to by homeless men, and generally having an awesome time. Oh, and writing too. I'm planning on posting one of my short stories I wrote on here, buut I accidentally deleted part of the file. I have printed copies, but I'll have to retype it, and I don't have those here, (I'm back at the cabin now), but I'll do it eventually.
And in the meantime, I am hanging out on the lakeside. Yesterday I went on an adventure paddling out with a windsurf board with my sister, and we managed to escape our arranged marriages avoid the sea serpents, somehow survive terrifying shark attacks, only to die in the freezing Arctic water in Titanic style and burst into My Heart Will Go On. And then, somehow, we made it back here...haha, yes for kids who never stop playing pretend.
Also, I just read the most horrible book called The Princetta, and I loved it! Well, I was amused by it anyway. Horribly written, with terribly flat characters, but the plot was surprisingly good at points. And I just adore YA fiction whether it's good or not. I prefer good, of course, but if it's bad...that's alright too. YA = love. Now I'm reading a book called Nefertiti which is about a detective in Ancient Egypt trying to find the queen. It's quite intriguing, though a bit heavier reading than The Princetta. Of course, I think anything would be...
Annd, that's about all I have to say for the moment. I know I didn't include any very deep observations or any fiction writing, but I thought I should bring you up to date on my life.
I went to my cabin. We put the boats in the lake successfully, except for the little fishing boat, which we just tried to put in today only to find that the motor was not working. What a downer. I also went to town and found that Candyboy is still working, but I'm not totally sure he remembers me. For those of you who don't know, I kind of had a...smiling/waving relationship with this guy who works in a candy store behind a glass wall making peanut brittle. And cashew brittle...anyway, he didn't wave at me. I was sad. I'm not sure what to do to renew our relationship...maybe he just doesn't know if I remember him. Or maybe he wants to terminate our interactions! That would be so sad. He's such a cute boy. I suppose I shall begin smiling at him again. I feel like maybe I should wave, but then if he didn't know who I was...that could be awkward.
Following the cabin, I went to writing camp! It was kind of AMAZING. I met so many cool people. And my teacher...he was awesome. And gorgeous. Haha. He was kind of the most awkward guy ever, but all the (5) girls in my class adored him! And we had the best workshop ever. We had themed workshop days and put our desks into a super close circle (uncomfortably near), which our teacher scooted back from a bit, a smiley face, and an N for his name, Nick. And on the last day we brought juice and candy and cookies.
We also had prom at writing camp, because some of the counselors never attended their high school prom, and they always have a dance party at the end, but this time they decided it would be prom. Our theme was "Boats!" and we played that song...I'm on a boat...and it was pretty epic. We made some nice posters with pictures from the Titanic and Jaws and Peter Pan and various other boat related things. Some guys dressed up like pirates...and one of the guys in my class ended up looking more like Aladdin, but I kind of loved it. I love Aladdin so much, and the guy in my class...was pretty awesome.
I also spent a lot of time considering the symbolism in Sleeping Beauty, discovering the sketchiness of everyone and everything, going on Missions Inscribable, writing poems on the sidewalks with chalk, being proposed to by homeless men, and generally having an awesome time. Oh, and writing too. I'm planning on posting one of my short stories I wrote on here, buut I accidentally deleted part of the file. I have printed copies, but I'll have to retype it, and I don't have those here, (I'm back at the cabin now), but I'll do it eventually.
And in the meantime, I am hanging out on the lakeside. Yesterday I went on an adventure paddling out with a windsurf board with my sister, and we managed to escape our arranged marriages avoid the sea serpents, somehow survive terrifying shark attacks, only to die in the freezing Arctic water in Titanic style and burst into My Heart Will Go On. And then, somehow, we made it back here...haha, yes for kids who never stop playing pretend.
Also, I just read the most horrible book called The Princetta, and I loved it! Well, I was amused by it anyway. Horribly written, with terribly flat characters, but the plot was surprisingly good at points. And I just adore YA fiction whether it's good or not. I prefer good, of course, but if it's bad...that's alright too. YA = love. Now I'm reading a book called Nefertiti which is about a detective in Ancient Egypt trying to find the queen. It's quite intriguing, though a bit heavier reading than The Princetta. Of course, I think anything would be...
Annd, that's about all I have to say for the moment. I know I didn't include any very deep observations or any fiction writing, but I thought I should bring you up to date on my life.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Bad Hair Month
So it's official. I hate my hair. A lot. I don't know what I was thinking. I must have been out of my mind. I want it back. Long layers = love. Shortness = WHY???? I'VE RUINED MY LIFE!
Okay, trying to cut with the melodrama. I think I could like my hair if it was just an inch or two longer. Maybe three. But it's not. And I hate it. And it's a really bad timing...you know...the whole cabin/Writing Studio thing...I'd sort of like to look pretty, but, you know.
And I'm sixteen. Which means I'm an official Disney princess. So why don't I look pretty? Oh, right, cause I cut my hair. WHAT WAS I THINKING?
I think maybe if I just wear it up for the next two months, it'll be okay.
Okay, trying to cut with the melodrama. I think I could like my hair if it was just an inch or two longer. Maybe three. But it's not. And I hate it. And it's a really bad timing...you know...the whole cabin/Writing Studio thing...I'd sort of like to look pretty, but, you know.
And I'm sixteen. Which means I'm an official Disney princess. So why don't I look pretty? Oh, right, cause I cut my hair. WHAT WAS I THINKING?
I think maybe if I just wear it up for the next two months, it'll be okay.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Fiction & My Life (in Technicolor)
Challenge: write a diary of a character for a week
The Life and Times of Alexander Alexander
Day 1 (That is, not the first day of my life, but the first day of my new and much improved life of adventure and excitement as an adventurer)
Today I abruptly quit my job as a blacksmith. After all, who really wants to be a blacksmith? Not I! I have packed up my things, and I am leaving this place. I plan to go into the forest and seek my fortune.
Day 2
Still seeking my fortune. In the forest now. It's quite nice. I've always felt a sort of connection with the forest. I can feel it, deep within me. Trees and life coursing through my veins. Sounds painful. It's really not, though.
Day 3
The forest consumes me. I enjoy it in the utmost.
Day 4
Still traveling. Has been jolly good weather for this sort of thing. Sunny, warm. I caught some fish in a stream and cooked them over a fire for supper. This is the life.
Day 5
I've met the most intriguing acquaintance! Virth Gideon is his name, and he seems very intense. In a silent, staring sort of way. He was sleeping in a pile of leaves when I tripped over him and woke him up. He seemed rather disgruntled, but it seems that I'm the first person he's seen in quite a long while. I think we shall get along quite swell.
Day 6
Virth has informed me now of the unfortunate circumstances of his life. Quite unfortunate they are, too. He has lost his love, his life, and his reason for living. Quite an involved tale, but apparently the monarchy is actually asleep and taken over by beings out of a magical simulation he went through and failed, which made these new beings called the Ageless come into life out of nothing and take over the world. So apparently he's waiting for a hundred years to pass so he can kiss some sleeping, presumed dead princess and break the curse. A most intriguing tale. I've decided I might as well stick with him and see this all through to the end. It ought to be exciting, at any rate. Perhaps this is what my true fortune is.
Day 7
We found the most lovely place to build a sort of lodge, in which we will head off this rebellion against the evil Ageless. I can just feel the change in the air. Very refreshing. And so, I say: Down with the Ageless! Anarchy! Rebellion! I've never felt like such a rebel. Most peculiar. Rather exhilarating.
In other news, my doctor may have given me an ear infection. He poked my ear with something sharp, and it bled a bunch, and now I'm in paaaiiiin. And my mum, being the nurse that she is, looked in it and said it looked "strange." So if I die before next week...I love you all! :D
And even more news, I am going to my cabin on Wednesday! Woot! Woot! And we all know what that means...Lake! Boats! Fishes! Swimming! Wakeboarding! Doing 360s? Maybe not yet...and of course, general town life. Not that I'm living there, but...bakery. Candy store. <3 Maybe eventually I will post the story of glass windows, a silent communication, cut short by summer's end, and tragic facebook stalking. Hahaha. Or, we could just let that drop...being awkward as it is...
And after I go to my cabin, I'm going to a Young Writers' Studio! Which should be rather epic. I'm only a little concerned that my teacher might be a bit odd, because he assigned us this rather odd book to read, "If on a winter's night a traveler." It is...kind of...odd. It's very modern in style, I suppose. I'll let you know in more detail what I think when I finish.
And I also chopped off my hair. Not totally sure how I feel about that yet. Will have to wait for a few days, do some various styling, see how it looks.
The Life and Times of Alexander Alexander
Day 1 (That is, not the first day of my life, but the first day of my new and much improved life of adventure and excitement as an adventurer)
Today I abruptly quit my job as a blacksmith. After all, who really wants to be a blacksmith? Not I! I have packed up my things, and I am leaving this place. I plan to go into the forest and seek my fortune.
Day 2
Still seeking my fortune. In the forest now. It's quite nice. I've always felt a sort of connection with the forest. I can feel it, deep within me. Trees and life coursing through my veins. Sounds painful. It's really not, though.
Day 3
The forest consumes me. I enjoy it in the utmost.
Day 4
Still traveling. Has been jolly good weather for this sort of thing. Sunny, warm. I caught some fish in a stream and cooked them over a fire for supper. This is the life.
Day 5
I've met the most intriguing acquaintance! Virth Gideon is his name, and he seems very intense. In a silent, staring sort of way. He was sleeping in a pile of leaves when I tripped over him and woke him up. He seemed rather disgruntled, but it seems that I'm the first person he's seen in quite a long while. I think we shall get along quite swell.
Day 6
Virth has informed me now of the unfortunate circumstances of his life. Quite unfortunate they are, too. He has lost his love, his life, and his reason for living. Quite an involved tale, but apparently the monarchy is actually asleep and taken over by beings out of a magical simulation he went through and failed, which made these new beings called the Ageless come into life out of nothing and take over the world. So apparently he's waiting for a hundred years to pass so he can kiss some sleeping, presumed dead princess and break the curse. A most intriguing tale. I've decided I might as well stick with him and see this all through to the end. It ought to be exciting, at any rate. Perhaps this is what my true fortune is.
Day 7
We found the most lovely place to build a sort of lodge, in which we will head off this rebellion against the evil Ageless. I can just feel the change in the air. Very refreshing. And so, I say: Down with the Ageless! Anarchy! Rebellion! I've never felt like such a rebel. Most peculiar. Rather exhilarating.
In other news, my doctor may have given me an ear infection. He poked my ear with something sharp, and it bled a bunch, and now I'm in paaaiiiin. And my mum, being the nurse that she is, looked in it and said it looked "strange." So if I die before next week...I love you all! :D
And even more news, I am going to my cabin on Wednesday! Woot! Woot! And we all know what that means...Lake! Boats! Fishes! Swimming! Wakeboarding! Doing 360s? Maybe not yet...and of course, general town life. Not that I'm living there, but...bakery. Candy store. <3 Maybe eventually I will post the story of glass windows, a silent communication, cut short by summer's end, and tragic facebook stalking. Hahaha. Or, we could just let that drop...being awkward as it is...
And after I go to my cabin, I'm going to a Young Writers' Studio! Which should be rather epic. I'm only a little concerned that my teacher might be a bit odd, because he assigned us this rather odd book to read, "If on a winter's night a traveler." It is...kind of...odd. It's very modern in style, I suppose. I'll let you know in more detail what I think when I finish.
And I also chopped off my hair. Not totally sure how I feel about that yet. Will have to wait for a few days, do some various styling, see how it looks.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Perspectives
"Do what you wish with me. All I ask is to see her once more, and afterward, that you let her go and never harm her again."
She walked out of the enemy camp alone.
Samuel Gray stopped in front of the large house. It stood in the middle of enemy territory, and apparently run by some lady who lived there all alone. He couldn't quite fathom how or why. He raised the knocker anyway, and was surprised when the door was opened by a beautiful woman.
She wasn't old yet, though not quite young either. Somewhere in her middling to late thirties, he supposed, but still gorgeous. Elegant figure, striking red hair, and a very warm smile. "You must be Samuel," she said. "Please, come in. Supper's on the table waiting for you."
He followed her to the dining room curiously and sat down where she indicated. There was a bowl of hot soup in front of him and a strong cup of tea. Additionally, there was a plate of warm bread, salt, pepper, and everything else he could think of needing for a good dinner. He took a spoonful of the soup--quite good soup--and eyed the woman seated on the other side of the table. She wasn't eating, only watching.
"Oh, I hope my sitting here with you doesn't bother you at all," she said with another of her smiles. Though, he couldn't help but think there was something a bit dead about her eyes. "I don't get many guests, you see, and I do enjoy seeing people now and then, when they get sent my way."
He nodded and tried to remember what he'd been told about her. A friend of the Resistance, was all they'd really said. That and something to do with the great warrior, Rafe, who died a few ten years ago.
She smiled winningly.
"So you, uh, live here all alone?" he asked after a moment, taking a bit of the bread.
"Oh, yes," she replied. "I have for a good while now. It might not seem like the ideal place, out in the middle of nowhere, but...it's peaceful here."
"Peaceful? With all those monsters hounding at your doorstep?"
She gave him a look, the sort of look you gave a child when they said something particularly naive. "Oh, they don't bother me. They haven't laid a finger on me since...oh, but I'm sure you know."
He shook his head, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "No, actually. They didn't tell me much before sending me out here. I know you have some connection with Rafe, but other than that...I'd like to hear about it."
"Rafe, yes," she said, and he saw there was a certain light in her eyes, though it seemed more a reflection, of a light long ago. "Well, it's not quite the type of story you tell. Nor is it much of a story in general."
"I'd still like to hear it," he replied, more curious now than ever.
"Well," she began, "Rafe and I...we were fighting the Bjords, as usual. We were both captured, at Iluvn, not far from here. He was the leader of the Resistance at the time. He knew everything there was to know about it. He had information they wanted. They wanted him in general; they thought to crush the Resistance by crushing him first. He could have gotten away, but...I couldn't have. They had me with a knife pressed to my throat. They...used me against him, I suppose. So, he gave himself up for me. Made them promise to let me go free and never bother me again. And he asked to speak to me, just once more. Then they let me go, and...that was the end of it, for him." She paused, looking down at the table, then looked back at him and smiled. "So you see, it's not much of a story. Just a past."
"What did he tell you?" Samuel asked, "that last time?"
She smiled again and the light played upon her features. "That he loved me," she said. "That was all."
He took another bite of his bread and added some pepper to his soup. "So, that's why you work for the Resistance, then? In honor of him?"
She gave a slight laugh. "Oh, no. I would hardly say I work for the Resistance. I help them, from time to time, though I can't see much of a reason for it all."
"No reason?" he asked, leaping out of his chair and slamming his fists on the table. "No reason? They killed your love, and you say there's no reason for fighting those monsters?!"
She looked at her fingers on the table. "They let me go," she said after a moment, softly. "And I've never seen any of them since. They kept their promise." She paused and looked at him again. "Sit back down," she said. "Eat your soup."
He looked at her, frustrated, but finally sat back down. He saw what she meant, but he didn't want to. The Resistance was the only good thing, the only righteous thing left in the world. That's what he'd believed for so long.
"In any case," she said, "it's so much the same. People fight, they get killed, and others take their place, fighting some more. I've seen it happen so many times. But please, don't let me dissuade you from fighting with the Resistance. I suppose I've just lived here alone a long time. Living alone gives you strange ideas, Samuel. Don't listen, if you want not to."
He said nothing and looked down at his soup and realized he wasn't hungry. He took a spoonful anyway.
She walked out of the enemy camp alone.
Samuel Gray stopped in front of the large house. It stood in the middle of enemy territory, and apparently run by some lady who lived there all alone. He couldn't quite fathom how or why. He raised the knocker anyway, and was surprised when the door was opened by a beautiful woman.
She wasn't old yet, though not quite young either. Somewhere in her middling to late thirties, he supposed, but still gorgeous. Elegant figure, striking red hair, and a very warm smile. "You must be Samuel," she said. "Please, come in. Supper's on the table waiting for you."
He followed her to the dining room curiously and sat down where she indicated. There was a bowl of hot soup in front of him and a strong cup of tea. Additionally, there was a plate of warm bread, salt, pepper, and everything else he could think of needing for a good dinner. He took a spoonful of the soup--quite good soup--and eyed the woman seated on the other side of the table. She wasn't eating, only watching.
"Oh, I hope my sitting here with you doesn't bother you at all," she said with another of her smiles. Though, he couldn't help but think there was something a bit dead about her eyes. "I don't get many guests, you see, and I do enjoy seeing people now and then, when they get sent my way."
He nodded and tried to remember what he'd been told about her. A friend of the Resistance, was all they'd really said. That and something to do with the great warrior, Rafe, who died a few ten years ago.
She smiled winningly.
"So you, uh, live here all alone?" he asked after a moment, taking a bit of the bread.
"Oh, yes," she replied. "I have for a good while now. It might not seem like the ideal place, out in the middle of nowhere, but...it's peaceful here."
"Peaceful? With all those monsters hounding at your doorstep?"
She gave him a look, the sort of look you gave a child when they said something particularly naive. "Oh, they don't bother me. They haven't laid a finger on me since...oh, but I'm sure you know."
He shook his head, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "No, actually. They didn't tell me much before sending me out here. I know you have some connection with Rafe, but other than that...I'd like to hear about it."
"Rafe, yes," she said, and he saw there was a certain light in her eyes, though it seemed more a reflection, of a light long ago. "Well, it's not quite the type of story you tell. Nor is it much of a story in general."
"I'd still like to hear it," he replied, more curious now than ever.
"Well," she began, "Rafe and I...we were fighting the Bjords, as usual. We were both captured, at Iluvn, not far from here. He was the leader of the Resistance at the time. He knew everything there was to know about it. He had information they wanted. They wanted him in general; they thought to crush the Resistance by crushing him first. He could have gotten away, but...I couldn't have. They had me with a knife pressed to my throat. They...used me against him, I suppose. So, he gave himself up for me. Made them promise to let me go free and never bother me again. And he asked to speak to me, just once more. Then they let me go, and...that was the end of it, for him." She paused, looking down at the table, then looked back at him and smiled. "So you see, it's not much of a story. Just a past."
"What did he tell you?" Samuel asked, "that last time?"
She smiled again and the light played upon her features. "That he loved me," she said. "That was all."
He took another bite of his bread and added some pepper to his soup. "So, that's why you work for the Resistance, then? In honor of him?"
She gave a slight laugh. "Oh, no. I would hardly say I work for the Resistance. I help them, from time to time, though I can't see much of a reason for it all."
"No reason?" he asked, leaping out of his chair and slamming his fists on the table. "No reason? They killed your love, and you say there's no reason for fighting those monsters?!"
She looked at her fingers on the table. "They let me go," she said after a moment, softly. "And I've never seen any of them since. They kept their promise." She paused and looked at him again. "Sit back down," she said. "Eat your soup."
He looked at her, frustrated, but finally sat back down. He saw what she meant, but he didn't want to. The Resistance was the only good thing, the only righteous thing left in the world. That's what he'd believed for so long.
"In any case," she said, "it's so much the same. People fight, they get killed, and others take their place, fighting some more. I've seen it happen so many times. But please, don't let me dissuade you from fighting with the Resistance. I suppose I've just lived here alone a long time. Living alone gives you strange ideas, Samuel. Don't listen, if you want not to."
He said nothing and looked down at his soup and realized he wasn't hungry. He took a spoonful anyway.
Friday, May 15, 2009
On Evil Queens
This is me actually writing fiction. Something I'm fond of. The prompt was: "proposal turned down" though it evolved into sort of something else.
Lady Veronique observed the man kneeling in front of her with some regret. Some, but not much. She was beginning to get used to this sort of thing. And by this sort of thing, what was meant, of course, was being cruel. Generally leading people on. It was, apparently, what she did to the people she really liked.
"Veronique, please, will you end my suspense?" Lord Jacque asked.
She could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead. She sighed and walked towards the piano bench. She sat delicately, smoothing skirt, lifting it just slightly above her ankles. She tilted her head, flashed a painted smirk. It was an art form, really.
"Now, Jacque. You know I simply adore you, but really, I just can't be presumed upon to marry at this time." She sighed and looked at her lacy slippers, just peeking out from her rose-coloured skirt.
He did not seem very phased yet. "Veronique, please. I will do anything you ask. Just be my wife."
She laughed, a light, airy laugh. This was all so easy. She lowered her eyes to her feet, then raised them, fluttering to his face. "Truly, anything?" she asked, with utmost sincerity and innocence.
He nodded, entranced.
She allowed a blush to travel from her throat to her cheeks. "Oh, I couldn't!" she exclaimed, examining the lace on the pillow she was sitting on. Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her eyes to his face again. He had very blue eyes. Very pretty. And he was so very much in love with her.
"Veronique," he repeated. "What will you ask me? What can I do to win your affections?"
She could have snorted. She could have screamed. She wanted to scream and claw at him with her perfect nails, claw at his arms and his face and-- "You could kill the king," she said, laughing her beautiful, tinkling laugh. "I did always wish to be queen, you know. All the beauty and loveliness of royalty. And you, of course, would be my king." She tilted her head again, curled her lips into a smile, winked one eye mysteriously. (It's a joke. Laugh. Laugh. Don't listen to anything I say.)
He did laugh. An awkward, forced laugh, glancing at the floor, the tapestries, anything but her. Finally, he did glance up, giving her a fiercely searching look.
She was bright, all smiles and blushing cheeks.
He laughed again and got to his feet. "Well, Veronique." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, just a brush, a hint of passion. "My dear murderess," he said, with a louder, jollier laugh this time. "I will win you in time, my dear."
He let go of her hand and walked away. She watched him out the door, realizing within a moment that she would be queen. She drew up into a straighter posture, squared her jaw, and smiled. It was all so easy.
Lady Veronique observed the man kneeling in front of her with some regret. Some, but not much. She was beginning to get used to this sort of thing. And by this sort of thing, what was meant, of course, was being cruel. Generally leading people on. It was, apparently, what she did to the people she really liked.
"Veronique, please, will you end my suspense?" Lord Jacque asked.
She could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead. She sighed and walked towards the piano bench. She sat delicately, smoothing skirt, lifting it just slightly above her ankles. She tilted her head, flashed a painted smirk. It was an art form, really.
"Now, Jacque. You know I simply adore you, but really, I just can't be presumed upon to marry at this time." She sighed and looked at her lacy slippers, just peeking out from her rose-coloured skirt.
He did not seem very phased yet. "Veronique, please. I will do anything you ask. Just be my wife."
She laughed, a light, airy laugh. This was all so easy. She lowered her eyes to her feet, then raised them, fluttering to his face. "Truly, anything?" she asked, with utmost sincerity and innocence.
He nodded, entranced.
She allowed a blush to travel from her throat to her cheeks. "Oh, I couldn't!" she exclaimed, examining the lace on the pillow she was sitting on. Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her eyes to his face again. He had very blue eyes. Very pretty. And he was so very much in love with her.
"Veronique," he repeated. "What will you ask me? What can I do to win your affections?"
She could have snorted. She could have screamed. She wanted to scream and claw at him with her perfect nails, claw at his arms and his face and-- "You could kill the king," she said, laughing her beautiful, tinkling laugh. "I did always wish to be queen, you know. All the beauty and loveliness of royalty. And you, of course, would be my king." She tilted her head again, curled her lips into a smile, winked one eye mysteriously. (It's a joke. Laugh. Laugh. Don't listen to anything I say.)
He did laugh. An awkward, forced laugh, glancing at the floor, the tapestries, anything but her. Finally, he did glance up, giving her a fiercely searching look.
She was bright, all smiles and blushing cheeks.
He laughed again and got to his feet. "Well, Veronique." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, just a brush, a hint of passion. "My dear murderess," he said, with a louder, jollier laugh this time. "I will win you in time, my dear."
He let go of her hand and walked away. She watched him out the door, realizing within a moment that she would be queen. She drew up into a straighter posture, squared her jaw, and smiled. It was all so easy.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Playradioplay! (and other spiffy stuff)
So, since I have nothing more exciting to say, I thought I would let you all know that I am in love with the band PlayRadioPlay! Even if the lead singer looks like he's on drugs, occasionally sounds like he's on drugs, and I don't even know that many of their songs.
But anyone who can write these lyrics: "I am a pirate; you are a princess; we could sail the seven seas..." is clearly amazing. <3 <3 <3 This is pretty much the song of my life. Sort of. How I pretend my life is. But you can sort of surmise that the whole song is about rejecting growing up, which is also something I'm quite fond of, as was duly noted in my previous post.
{Random aside} I was also considering writing a story about this song. More or less, it would be about a country, and their princess has run off with a crew of pirates, and they're sort of sighing about the dreadful occurrence, but their view of it is more or less, "Well, I suppose there's nothing we can do." But then, the king brings in a bunch of bounty hunters and tells them there will be a large reward for bringing her back, and this one guy teams up with this other girl, because she has knowledge of some other treasure they could get along the way but needs him for something or other, so they go, and run into the Stories which are people who are sort of whole worlds on their own. Which makes very little sense, but as an example, they go to this tower with a Rapunzelish girl and there's hair everywhere, following out the window and such, but inside it's a lot bigger than the outside, and it's a whole different world where she's waiting for someone to wake her up, but if she were killed or something from someone from the real world, it would just be a dead girl in a tower and not the entire other kingdom. Aanyway...just a random idea that I probably won't ever write...I really didn't realize it was so involved...hmm...
I'm also somewhat fond of the song "Madi Don't Leave." Without a comma where it should be. Ordinarily, that sort of error would drive me insane, but it doesn't bother me when it's artistically done. Like, ooh, E.E. Cummings! You look at his poems and wonder where in the world grammar and punctuation went, but it's AMAZING. Very...emotional. Although some of his poems are sort of raunchy. I only recently realized that poems even had the capability of being raunchy, but apparently they do. I find it very odd. But I'm most fond of "i carry your heart with me" and "in a middle of a room." The latter is highly depressing, but it's still beautiful, and it makes so much sense! Like, I feel like it has the same sort of themes behind it as a story I wrote once, called um...now I don't remember what it's called. How sad is that? The one with Adelaide on the island who wasn't Real. I was never very satisfied with the title, I think.
Anyway, after the long ramble...I feel like the lack of a comma here is artistically done as well, even if not on purpose. Oh and this other song, I don't even know how it goes, but it's called "Some Crap About the Furniture" even though it has nothing to do with furniture. Some people might call it strange, but I think it's brilliant. Not sure why. Perhaps I read too much into these things.
I suppose that's all I have to say for the moment. Signing off.
But anyone who can write these lyrics: "I am a pirate; you are a princess; we could sail the seven seas..." is clearly amazing. <3 <3 <3 This is pretty much the song of my life. Sort of. How I pretend my life is. But you can sort of surmise that the whole song is about rejecting growing up, which is also something I'm quite fond of, as was duly noted in my previous post.
{Random aside} I was also considering writing a story about this song. More or less, it would be about a country, and their princess has run off with a crew of pirates, and they're sort of sighing about the dreadful occurrence, but their view of it is more or less, "Well, I suppose there's nothing we can do." But then, the king brings in a bunch of bounty hunters and tells them there will be a large reward for bringing her back, and this one guy teams up with this other girl, because she has knowledge of some other treasure they could get along the way but needs him for something or other, so they go, and run into the Stories which are people who are sort of whole worlds on their own. Which makes very little sense, but as an example, they go to this tower with a Rapunzelish girl and there's hair everywhere, following out the window and such, but inside it's a lot bigger than the outside, and it's a whole different world where she's waiting for someone to wake her up, but if she were killed or something from someone from the real world, it would just be a dead girl in a tower and not the entire other kingdom. Aanyway...just a random idea that I probably won't ever write...I really didn't realize it was so involved...hmm...
I'm also somewhat fond of the song "Madi Don't Leave." Without a comma where it should be. Ordinarily, that sort of error would drive me insane, but it doesn't bother me when it's artistically done. Like, ooh, E.E. Cummings! You look at his poems and wonder where in the world grammar and punctuation went, but it's AMAZING. Very...emotional. Although some of his poems are sort of raunchy. I only recently realized that poems even had the capability of being raunchy, but apparently they do. I find it very odd. But I'm most fond of "i carry your heart with me" and "in a middle of a room." The latter is highly depressing, but it's still beautiful, and it makes so much sense! Like, I feel like it has the same sort of themes behind it as a story I wrote once, called um...now I don't remember what it's called. How sad is that? The one with Adelaide on the island who wasn't Real. I was never very satisfied with the title, I think.
Anyway, after the long ramble...I feel like the lack of a comma here is artistically done as well, even if not on purpose. Oh and this other song, I don't even know how it goes, but it's called "Some Crap About the Furniture" even though it has nothing to do with furniture. Some people might call it strange, but I think it's brilliant. Not sure why. Perhaps I read too much into these things.
I suppose that's all I have to say for the moment. Signing off.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Can't You Just Pretend to be Nice?
(this is me, venting)
So, a couple things that really annoy me:
People not using proper grammar and punctuation. (Do we need to go back to elementary school?)
People saying they like "everything" by a certain author. (Until you've read EVERYTHING they've ever written and ever will write, you don't know that.)
People you used to know pretending they have nothing to do with you. (Hey, remember when we used to be friends and build tunnels in sand boxes and pretend we were orphans surviving in the wilderness together?)
Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe I'm being snarky and rude for no reason. Honestly, I don't know anymore. I'm not sure what my problem is. Just for the sake of some fun, maybe I will outline a bit of it...
Growing up. I suppose that really sums up the whole thing. For those of you who are confused: The Boy used to be one of my best friends ever. We got along swimmingly until we just stopped ever seeing each other. Awkwardness ensued. Especially for me, I think, because I sort of have/had a crush on him, and...I don't know. He has pretty eyes. Not the point.
Anywho, the Boy is very involved in the Youth Group & Sunday School crew who are slightly...cliquey? This may be my biased imagination. I never really went to Youth Group because I have dance class that night, and most of them are from the other town that is rather close to my town but still separate, so I don't know any of them. Sunday School is sort of excruciatingly awkward, and I have always had this vague feeling that they're somehow all better than me. So I sort have these mixed feelings of having this super snarky 'you guys are cliquey and annoying and cliche' attitude while secretly wanting to be them, but knowing I just don't fit in. Ah, the intense angst of teenagerism. *snort* I can't believe I'm writing this. *FAIL*
So the Boy and I pretty much don't ever talk anymore. We move in different circles. Which is fine. Occasionally, I like to stalk his facebook profile and make snarky remarks about it in my head. Occasionally, I actually say something to him. And I would be spiffycool about the whole thing if he replied to me like a normal person. But he sort of has this tone of, "I don't know why you're talking to me and am only going to make very basic responses." And he didn't use punctuation, which really ticked me off.
I suppose, overall, I'm exaggerating the situation into some sort of angsty ridiculous thing. I'm sure he doesn't mean to be rude and standoffish. I'm sure he really isn't very rude and standoffish. I'm just feeling the full force of intense teenagerism angst. And Growing Up and Growing Apart really are two of the suckiest things in the world.
So, a couple things that really annoy me:
People not using proper grammar and punctuation. (Do we need to go back to elementary school?)
People saying they like "everything" by a certain author. (Until you've read EVERYTHING they've ever written and ever will write, you don't know that.)
People you used to know pretending they have nothing to do with you. (Hey, remember when we used to be friends and build tunnels in sand boxes and pretend we were orphans surviving in the wilderness together?)
Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe I'm being snarky and rude for no reason. Honestly, I don't know anymore. I'm not sure what my problem is. Just for the sake of some fun, maybe I will outline a bit of it...
Growing up. I suppose that really sums up the whole thing. For those of you who are confused: The Boy used to be one of my best friends ever. We got along swimmingly until we just stopped ever seeing each other. Awkwardness ensued. Especially for me, I think, because I sort of have/had a crush on him, and...I don't know. He has pretty eyes. Not the point.
Anywho, the Boy is very involved in the Youth Group & Sunday School crew who are slightly...cliquey? This may be my biased imagination. I never really went to Youth Group because I have dance class that night, and most of them are from the other town that is rather close to my town but still separate, so I don't know any of them. Sunday School is sort of excruciatingly awkward, and I have always had this vague feeling that they're somehow all better than me. So I sort have these mixed feelings of having this super snarky 'you guys are cliquey and annoying and cliche' attitude while secretly wanting to be them, but knowing I just don't fit in. Ah, the intense angst of teenagerism. *snort* I can't believe I'm writing this. *FAIL*
So the Boy and I pretty much don't ever talk anymore. We move in different circles. Which is fine. Occasionally, I like to stalk his facebook profile and make snarky remarks about it in my head. Occasionally, I actually say something to him. And I would be spiffycool about the whole thing if he replied to me like a normal person. But he sort of has this tone of, "I don't know why you're talking to me and am only going to make very basic responses." And he didn't use punctuation, which really ticked me off.
I suppose, overall, I'm exaggerating the situation into some sort of angsty ridiculous thing. I'm sure he doesn't mean to be rude and standoffish. I'm sure he really isn't very rude and standoffish. I'm just feeling the full force of intense teenagerism angst. And Growing Up and Growing Apart really are two of the suckiest things in the world.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Winter Rose
I just finished reading the book Winter Rose. I've read Winter Rose three times. I think I finally understand the ending.
And I don't mean that as in it being a strange concept, too complicated to understand; what I mean is, I finally get what the book is all about. Well, one of the things I suppose. I guess that's what's so lovely about rereading, you get something new out of it every time.
Anyway, the new concept I finally realized in the end: freedom. Whatever the reviews say about desire and longing and need, the end is about freedom. Of course, all the desire and longing and need is in there, too, but that's there as somewhat of a contrast for the ending. It's...difficult to explain without going through the entire plot of the book, but it was so very new and lightbulbish to me that I have to write about it. So, the breakdown:
Corbet needs Rois to pull him out of the fey world so he can be human.
Rois needs Corbet, because he makes her human. Her needing subsequently gets confused with desire and longing and love.
But all of this needing and longing can't be love, because they aren't free to love. And that's what's so wonderful about it! I was going to write a contrast with this and Pride and Prejudice and whether love is better worked for--out of need--or given freely. But now I realize I don't need to, because they're both the same.
When they needed each other, it was lovely and some of the most awesome examples of self sacrifice ever, but it made their feelings for each other more...gratitude and...well, need. But Corbet even says himself, "You have tried to help me, and I am grateful. But love is not gratitude. I can't be content with you because of that." This is when he's...not actually exactly Corbet, but it stands true to how it really was. But after she saves him, and he, in a way, saves her, it's so much better. They don't need each other, but they now have the ability to want each other.
They have a really awkward conversation in the end, but it's wonderful because you can tell that they can really see each other now, and pick out things they like, and in time they can give their love freely.
The first time I read the ending, I was highly depressed by the lack of closure.
The second time, I was rather more hopeful but somewhat confused.
The third time...I have no doubts they will get together in time, adore it all, and can't see it turning out any other way.
A few quotes, just to point out how much I love this book:
'They said later that he rode into the village on a horse the color of buttermilk, but I saw him walk out of the wood.' (1)
'"You come to me," he whispered. "Into every dark place. Into every memory. Into the empty eyes of winter. I go alone and find you with me. Why do you care for me?"
I did not know until I spoke. "Because you are making me human."' (212)
'I met his eyes filled my eyes with him, looking for all the small things I had loved. I found them still there. I could reach out to them or not; he could say yes, or he could say no. He smiled at me suddenly, not understanding what he saw, but drawn to it. Freedom, I could have told him: a new word for both of us.' (262) (The part which apparently never hit me until now)
And I don't mean that as in it being a strange concept, too complicated to understand; what I mean is, I finally get what the book is all about. Well, one of the things I suppose. I guess that's what's so lovely about rereading, you get something new out of it every time.
Anyway, the new concept I finally realized in the end: freedom. Whatever the reviews say about desire and longing and need, the end is about freedom. Of course, all the desire and longing and need is in there, too, but that's there as somewhat of a contrast for the ending. It's...difficult to explain without going through the entire plot of the book, but it was so very new and lightbulbish to me that I have to write about it. So, the breakdown:
Corbet needs Rois to pull him out of the fey world so he can be human.
Rois needs Corbet, because he makes her human. Her needing subsequently gets confused with desire and longing and love.
But all of this needing and longing can't be love, because they aren't free to love. And that's what's so wonderful about it! I was going to write a contrast with this and Pride and Prejudice and whether love is better worked for--out of need--or given freely. But now I realize I don't need to, because they're both the same.
When they needed each other, it was lovely and some of the most awesome examples of self sacrifice ever, but it made their feelings for each other more...gratitude and...well, need. But Corbet even says himself, "You have tried to help me, and I am grateful. But love is not gratitude. I can't be content with you because of that." This is when he's...not actually exactly Corbet, but it stands true to how it really was. But after she saves him, and he, in a way, saves her, it's so much better. They don't need each other, but they now have the ability to want each other.
They have a really awkward conversation in the end, but it's wonderful because you can tell that they can really see each other now, and pick out things they like, and in time they can give their love freely.
The first time I read the ending, I was highly depressed by the lack of closure.
The second time, I was rather more hopeful but somewhat confused.
The third time...I have no doubts they will get together in time, adore it all, and can't see it turning out any other way.
A few quotes, just to point out how much I love this book:
'They said later that he rode into the village on a horse the color of buttermilk, but I saw him walk out of the wood.' (1)
'"You come to me," he whispered. "Into every dark place. Into every memory. Into the empty eyes of winter. I go alone and find you with me. Why do you care for me?"
I did not know until I spoke. "Because you are making me human."' (212)
'I met his eyes filled my eyes with him, looking for all the small things I had loved. I found them still there. I could reach out to them or not; he could say yes, or he could say no. He smiled at me suddenly, not understanding what he saw, but drawn to it. Freedom, I could have told him: a new word for both of us.' (262) (The part which apparently never hit me until now)
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Anthem
In my English class, we're reading the book Anthem by Ayn Rand. We're supposed to be done with chapter two by tomorrow. I'm finished with it.
Anyhow, the book is supposed to be an advocate for Ayn Rand's philosophy Objectivism. I disagree with some rather large parts of the philosophy, but I highly enjoyed the book. I've decided that the reason for this is that whenever books are used to illustrate a certain, it's usually exaggerated. A lot.
The book, Anthem, takes place in this super socialist era, where no one has names or is allowed to stand out, and they've outlawed the word "I." It was so strange when the main character referred to himself as "we." The book basically was all about him discovering the powers of himself and his own individuality, which, you know, is a good thing. The philosophy, however, states that man "is an end to himself" and "must live for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself; he must work to his rational self-interest, with the achievement of his own happiness as the highest moral purpose of his life." Agreement ends here. This seems rather selfish to me. "I have found my purpose...being selfish! *exaltation ensues*" Yeah...
But that's not what I want to address. Basically, what I am trying to say is that you can make people agree with any point you have to make if you just make some society that is far out in the opposite direction. I worded that better in my head, but hopefully you get my point. If you have a crazy socialist society you make us read about, we'll all turn capitalist. If you have a crazy capitalist society you make us read about, we'll all turn socialist. Does that mean we actually agree? No. It just means we're not totalitarians, for either forms of government.
In order to really get your point across and see if people will actually agree with you, you'd have to find some way to put it in a normal society, one that we're all used to. We need to see how your point applies to us--the injustices of real life, not the injustices of a totalitarian socialist society. Of course we'll sympathize with brutalities that are totally unnatural to us.
That said, I did like the book. I agree with some of the philosophy--the capitalism and individuality and whatnot, and it really was just interesting. But it does seem a sketchy way to make us buy into Objectivism.
Anyhow, the book is supposed to be an advocate for Ayn Rand's philosophy Objectivism. I disagree with some rather large parts of the philosophy, but I highly enjoyed the book. I've decided that the reason for this is that whenever books are used to illustrate a certain, it's usually exaggerated. A lot.
The book, Anthem, takes place in this super socialist era, where no one has names or is allowed to stand out, and they've outlawed the word "I." It was so strange when the main character referred to himself as "we." The book basically was all about him discovering the powers of himself and his own individuality, which, you know, is a good thing. The philosophy, however, states that man "is an end to himself" and "must live for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself; he must work to his rational self-interest, with the achievement of his own happiness as the highest moral purpose of his life." Agreement ends here. This seems rather selfish to me. "I have found my purpose...being selfish! *exaltation ensues*" Yeah...
But that's not what I want to address. Basically, what I am trying to say is that you can make people agree with any point you have to make if you just make some society that is far out in the opposite direction. I worded that better in my head, but hopefully you get my point. If you have a crazy socialist society you make us read about, we'll all turn capitalist. If you have a crazy capitalist society you make us read about, we'll all turn socialist. Does that mean we actually agree? No. It just means we're not totalitarians, for either forms of government.
In order to really get your point across and see if people will actually agree with you, you'd have to find some way to put it in a normal society, one that we're all used to. We need to see how your point applies to us--the injustices of real life, not the injustices of a totalitarian socialist society. Of course we'll sympathize with brutalities that are totally unnatural to us.
That said, I did like the book. I agree with some of the philosophy--the capitalism and individuality and whatnot, and it really was just interesting. But it does seem a sketchy way to make us buy into Objectivism.
Monday, April 6, 2009
An Introduction
It has come to my attention that I said very little about myself in my last (and consequently first) post. I wish to remain somewhat ambiguous, so I shan't go into much detail, but there are a few things you should perhaps know.
I am, more or less, an average teenage girl. I go to school. I come home. I do my homework. I'm in band and choir and drama. I like sleeping. I like boys. I have a deep love of literature. Yeah, literature = love. My favorite book of all time is Gone With the Wind. *sighs happily* The complex themes, the sweeping drama, the Real characters, the perfect tragedy. Love love love it. I'm also fond of Wuthering Heights, most Jane Austen, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and...others. But then, in addition to classics and such, I'm a big fantasy/scifi fan. Fairies, unicorns, mages, elves, wizards, the all. Love that too.
I love Final Fantasy VII. I've never played it, but I'd like to think I have some credibility there, because I watched the whole thing on youtube in a walkthrough. And of course I own Advent Children and have written some fanfiction. I also love The Prince of Persia: Sands of Time. And I have played it. And I would marry the Prince.
So, yes, I might be somewhat of a crazy fangirl. But I'm also more than that, because people are more than a category. I'm...me. I write stories, I...think. (Therefore I am. Obviously.) Anyway. I have meant these entries to be rather more deep than they are, but...these were introductions. I will get to the real thing soon. In which I will describe life...the universe...everything. (Sorry. It's just such a great line.) Signing off now.
~the Weird Girl
I am, more or less, an average teenage girl. I go to school. I come home. I do my homework. I'm in band and choir and drama. I like sleeping. I like boys. I have a deep love of literature. Yeah, literature = love. My favorite book of all time is Gone With the Wind. *sighs happily* The complex themes, the sweeping drama, the Real characters, the perfect tragedy. Love love love it. I'm also fond of Wuthering Heights, most Jane Austen, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and...others. But then, in addition to classics and such, I'm a big fantasy/scifi fan. Fairies, unicorns, mages, elves, wizards, the all. Love that too.
I love Final Fantasy VII. I've never played it, but I'd like to think I have some credibility there, because I watched the whole thing on youtube in a walkthrough. And of course I own Advent Children and have written some fanfiction. I also love The Prince of Persia: Sands of Time. And I have played it. And I would marry the Prince.
So, yes, I might be somewhat of a crazy fangirl. But I'm also more than that, because people are more than a category. I'm...me. I write stories, I...think. (Therefore I am. Obviously.) Anyway. I have meant these entries to be rather more deep than they are, but...these were introductions. I will get to the real thing soon. In which I will describe life...the universe...everything. (Sorry. It's just such a great line.) Signing off now.
~the Weird Girl
Saturday, April 4, 2009
The Beginning
Once Upon a Time there was a Weird Girl who had many strange thoughts she wanted to share with the world. However, the Weird Girl felt a bit awkward sharing her thoughts with most of the world, so to make things less awkward, she decided to post them on a blog, where she could speak more freely and ramble incessantly, because rambling was something she did well. And so it started...
I have a blog now. Weird. I'm not sure if I'll ever actually write more than this one post, because I don't have a lot patience, and it seems like it could be a somewhat pointless endeavor. But anyway...
I am the previously mentioned Weird Girl, and my reasoning for having a blog is to share my thoughts on life...the universe...everything! (So need to read the rest of those books. Read the first two. Need the third.) But because of my supreme laziness, this may or may not happen. Signing off now. More later. Maybe.
I have a blog now. Weird. I'm not sure if I'll ever actually write more than this one post, because I don't have a lot patience, and it seems like it could be a somewhat pointless endeavor. But anyway...
I am the previously mentioned Weird Girl, and my reasoning for having a blog is to share my thoughts on life...the universe...everything! (So need to read the rest of those books. Read the first two. Need the third.) But because of my supreme laziness, this may or may not happen. Signing off now. More later. Maybe.
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