Hello, blog! It's been a while! I have not posted anything much here lately because most of what I posted before was lame angsty stuff that you don't need to know about! I've decided to quit that and only post about awesome things now! Woooo! So, to start things off:
Awesome thing #1: Sparklife. It's sheik, it's funny, I love it.
Awesome thing #2: Charlie McDonnell He's adorable. He's British. What more can I say?
Awesome thing #3: Inception. (and this I will actually write something about)
This movie is fascinating. I was initially drawn to the buildings turning upside down when I first saw the trailer, and then I wanted to see it because To Write Love On Her Arms posted on facebook about how you should see it for the humanity of the film. This increased my interest in the film, and when I went to see it, I loved it. It's about dreams, obviously. But more than just sleeping dreams, it's about dreams. About love and relationships and redemption. And, it's beautiful. So you should go see it.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
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.
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