Thursday, October 21, 2010

English Assignment

Another in our pilgrimage,
To which I pay this homage,
Is a girl of tempered fever
Known simply as the Achiever.
Her hair is dark, like powdered cocoa,
And soft, but none could claim to know.
Her eyes are bright and of the same color,
Subdued, downcast, but of words they are fuller.
For her mouth is pressed tight
Concealing all she would send aflight
If only a hand would extend
With honest good to intend.
On her shoulder, she carries a bag
That’s torn at one edge like a rag.
Within, she stores two heavy tomes
That equal the weight of bulky stones,
Flowing with knowledge by the page.
You would think she aspired to be a sage.
And perhaps that is correct,
The entire reason she has kept so erect,
Surpassing her childish peers
And pressing on through the years.
Yet if one sought beyond her long-time goal,
They would see she dreams more than any soul,
For a horse of white and gesture sweet,
The one that she’s been hoping to meet.
Her Prince Charming, with hair of gold,
And young blue eyes that speak of old.
This pilgrim’s name I did beseech,
But something else, my heart she did teach.

Question of the Day: Would you save yourself?

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Muse I: Border Wars

Miss Lanna is my first muse, it seems~.
I'll take what she's given me, think on it, then tie it all together and we'll see what we get.
This time, it looks like it'll be mostly writing. And maybe a concept scribble here or there.

Burning Trees

I pictured a group of sylvan people, almost instantly. (No, not the tutoring institute. Crack a dictionary if you're lost.) They're not so much elves or mythical folk as they are just people trying to get by. Humans, through and through. Plain. Somewhat of anarchists but not quite nihilists, struggling against the throes of a monarchy. Although I'm not entirely sure about the monarchy idea. I think it's a different force, but similar.

Walls of Ice

Walls of~ ice. That could go in several directions. Immediately, I see a large barricade made up of ice. But then I double over that thought and take it in a psychological sense. Walls that you build between yourself and another, giving them the 'cold shoulder.' And again, I stop and regroup. Most predominantly, I see shields. Shields made of some sort of glass, or crystal. It's thick and reflective. Maybe even frosted, like the windows they put in bathrooms? And I think of magick, that when cast, projects a chilling sensation to those around / near / casting it, etc.

Massive Sunflowers

I don't remember what movie it was but--Dragon Tales! It's a children's cartoon on PBS. There was an episode where the little girl and her brother are flying on the dragon's backs and they come across this expansive.. canyon? I'm assuming. And there are redwood-tall green stalks with massive yellow flowers forming a canopy over the whole of the canyon. The puffs of yellow are some sort of... agressive... lion... flower... things. But that was what I thought of. Which leads me to the idea of an enchanted glade, though I'm not entirely sure of why the glade is enchanted, or if it's really enchanted, or. There are just some awesome farmers harvesting giant sunflower seeds.

War and Treaty

Obviously between the sylvan peoples and the monarchy-esque people. I'm assuming that the treaty would be divulged between them as a sort of amends for any force that they've been pressing on eachother, then an agreement. I think, there was a heavy border control situation between the two and the sylvans wanted nothing to do with the moarch power. But under the treaty, the monarch's people are allowed to travel through and to the sylvan's homes, and sylvan's are safe to pass into the monarch's places so that they might further knowledge, etc...

Third Party

I just keep imagining some really. Unlucky guy. Getting into it with the wrong people. Or rather, he's idly passing by and stumbles upon a murder scene. But that's so insanely overdone, I think I'll shy from that idea. It seems more... appropriate that the third party be strongly associated with one of the sides. Maybe even hates the other one. And s/he... Hm. I believe s/he would be of moderate power, on whatever side they are, and highly respected? So, when s/he ends up in trouble, it really flares the tensions.


S/he will most likely be done away with as an example. But something tells me not to kill off the character that quickly. S/he may be important later on, though I'm not entirely sure how. But it's not a everyone-thought-I-was-dead-but-ha-I-fooled-you-suckers kind of thing. Nor is it the surprise, Oh btw, Luke I'm your father. Such a complex character system I see going here.

Rinse, Repeat

When the war starts again, I see that third party element developing into a group of "neutrals" who want to do away with both sides, so that those in the in-between can live peacefully. Not quite a third race, but somewhat of that sense, yes. I don't think there will be many half-breeds. In fact, I assume that in either society, half-breeds and their parents will be murdered without a second thought. Kind of like in Eastern society when a woman is raped and she and the baby are killed for the sin of it...

Sweets and Music

I see a very sweet and innocent character kind of being dragged into the middle fo the war and ultimately ending it, as an entirely different person. I mean a radical flip in personality. Sweet and loving to malicious and unforgiving over the progression of the story. A real good guy that's been thrown for the dumps who doesn't win in the end and maybe even evolves into--I shouldn't have made a reference to Star Wars. Now my brain is fixed on that linear. But no, maybe not the bad guy, but in the end, he's so. Torn up and twisted and he wants to be good but he honestly doesn't know how to anymore, and he kills himself in confusion. o3o Yey suicide.


The two groups...

Humans - They live in a large forest, filled with trees that are about the bulk of mid-grown redwoods. They build their cities around the trees, up of stones and mud and the like. They're really quite civilized but a bit less destructive than their ancestors let off. There are paths between the trees made of cobblestones, sort of like the yellow brick road, and so on. They use a complicated train system which is run by steam and large gears wth strong pulleys, supported by tracks that are made up of stone upon stone and oiled rail, but also use a sort of car that's run on steam alone. Hm, hm, hm... Their clothing is fairly modern, I suppose you could say, but light. Thin. And mostly dresses and convenient pants. Tights, boots. Woody but civilized kinds of clothes with hints of tribal somewhere in there. The government is really built up on a lot of small town ethics. Each settlement has no named leader, but tehre are common figures that will arise to act as leader when time comes. Decisions are made as a whole and as far as laws are considered, they're practically nil. They don't use currency. Temples are built into trees. They're very religious... Hm~. Oh. And women are expected to be modest, yes--but here's the kink. Men are supposed to listen to their wives. If they decide they don't want to do dinner, Hubby better jump. But not many women really stress this respect that they are given to a point of exploitation and so everyone is happy. The only time that anyone really gets testy is when a less-than-honorable woman stresses the belief.

Aryans - The mythical creatures of our tale. Basically, elven men and women that live in large, industrialized cities. Everything is run by magic and electricity. They namely use titanium, rubber and glass to build their cities and so on. The society itself is something caught between a modern day Monarchy and Midieval social classes. There's room for a lot of corruption and darling? There is. They have no steady set religion, but loosely practice under the same beliefs that the Humans have: an all encompassing God. But they're a bit more direct about it. He's only up there watching and eating his snacks, they might as well make it a little interesting, eh? And really, the only reason they're warring is because the Human's naively call them demons, curse them for their plots of taking the Earth into their own hands, as it was intended. Why be ruled by a rock? Clothing is a more fantasy-esque lean toward modern with grey subsituting black. Royalty is mostly defined in their clothing simply as more sohpisticated. Soldiers are the only Aryans that wear black, significant to show their place in society etc. Soldiers may stay wherever and with whoever they please and basically, they don't get slapped on the hand when they do what they want, so long as its not directly harming the Royals. Civilians have to obey them. There is a draft but only when necessary--which isn't often, because most Aryan boys grow up dreaming of being in the army. The Royal army is much smaller and they wear all white--when battling or on a mission--with onyx stones set into the bases of their throats. Typically, though, they pass off plainly as whatever they would wish, whether it be civilian, soldier, or Royal. Their families are not informed of their status and in fact, are sometimes mistaken for deadbeats in society. Weaponry is based on medieval devices with mechanical upgrades. (I suppose a gunblade wouldn't be totally out of place here.) Magic is most easily translated as a form of electricity that may be channeled through objects and used in a manner that is beneficial to the caster.

Next, I'll try to flesh out a sort of plot line... o3o
Question of the Day: If you do dress up for Halloween, what are you going to be this year and is your costume home-made? If you don't, what do you do to celebrate?
I love dressing up, personally. I do it every year. If I buy a costume, I tear it up, re-sew it, make it my own...
Then I leave out milk, honey and breads and whatnot for spirits passing through the veil. (:

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Our Mistake.

To make it short?
I don't know if I'm going to have my phone or~ my computer.
Probably will~ but who knows, right?
Point being, I may have some time to do.. whatever!
Caveman style, of course.
So, my assignment to all of you? Inspire me.
Names, places. Plot ideas, images. Dreams and wishes.
It can be fictional or it can be non, I don't care~.
Anything and everything!
And books! Always books.
What type of book should I review first?
What books do you recommend?
(Mind you, my only resource is either my school library for the local one down the road.
Both of which are limited and I would have to order out to receive those rarer Words.)
Go, go, go!

Question of the Day: If you were some sort of ghoul, what would you be?

Monday, October 18, 2010

Nothing Turns Out Right.

I love words.
If I could commit all of my studies to learning the languages of the earth and the ways that they were formed, I think I would be content. Linguistics always kind of tickled me, but whenever it’s mentioned in class, it’s so fleeting or I’m so out of it that I just can’t enjoy it like I really want to. I love to translate accents and work them together, then dissect them. I want to know what it means and why. I like to find how things relate and where the ‘ae’ in a word disappeared to, etc, etc~.

Probably one of my dumbest geek splurges would be character swapping.

I think it was the first or second week of October. I was in the mall, browsing a store for items that could be used at a haunted house I’m going to be judging at. (Nothing was of use, of course, because everything was either for a baby or some sex fantasy that husbands don’t have the gall to address until they happen to find the wares in the store.) Sifting through the crowded ‘aisles,’ I came to the shops centre. There was a woman there with her daughter, talking to herself about a lack of liquid latex in Baytown and holding up a little makeup kit.
And this is where character swapping came into play. I became the part of me that loves Theatre technicalities. --Namely being Theatre makeup, of course.-- Fleshed her out in a matter of seconds. And through that personage, I dug up some of my knowledge on latex, etc, and took some tidbits of information from a conversation I had overheard an hour ago. Et voila, I became anew. I wouldn’t exactly suggest pretending that you’re someone who loves cars and doesn’t know zip about cars in the first place, but if you can pull it off? Do it. This is the perfect improvising activity to test your abilities as an actor. Even if you’re not in some class or other.
The woman and I ended up talking about places that one can order latex from in its various forms and what she did for a living. About Houston and its general ability to hock out anything you can think of, and so on. The conversation went on for about fifteen minutes? We parted ways and she left thinking that I was a nineteen-year-old student attending some nearby college. Who was also~ working in the Theatre department and putting up for a Halloween special. See? That’s the thing. You don’t give too many details, but you give just enough, and you could have anyone believing anything—so long as you’re not obviously bullshitting.

How does this tie around to what I started this blog with? I like to tell people that I’m going to be a linguistics major someday.

It could be true in some scenarios, I suppose. And it’s not really an extreme character swap, but depending how far they delve into it, I could easily slip into my knowledge of the romantic languages and the like. You don’t really have to know a lot about a subject, you just have to have one thing that you could turn into a lengthy conversational tool. And if the person you’re talking to doesn’t know anything at all about that area of study? You could probably pull off some good faux history. For all they know, Chinese derived from sea faring peoples that hung around India before it was densely populated.
Perfect example?
I don’t know anything except for basics on Geography. You could probably convince me that Russia was once a peninsula.

But back to linguistics and words in general~. How many ways could I say that I just love the entire topic? (Probably a variant of five or so, but not to get too into diction and whatnot here..) I think in paragraphs and whenever I watch movies, I think of how I would describe what I’m seeing in prose. I think of the different tones used and how texture in a picture could relate to a scene. I think of how conversations that I have in real life could be translated to an exchange between two heroines.
What really hurts me though, is that I never get to express that love. Or at least, not in the way that I truly would enjoy expressing it. Writing, writing, writing. I wish I could just write an excerpt about a day at school or work, rather than actually be doing it. I write everything important to me. I can say countless things, do countless more—because undeniably, I am a thespian through and through—but when something truly impacts me, I write about it. And more often than not, I share that writing with at least one person. I love feeding my scrawl to an active mind and I love seeing how that mind perceives it.

If I have something to say to you and I write it? It would most probably be said in all honesty and seriousness.
(Not to be confused with over-the-internet banter. I don’t exactly have an alternative beyond writing to you in that sense.)

I cannot tell you how many letters that I have written through the years--to Vixen alone! In fact, I used to write to her every day of my life, back when I actually had the time to. That notebook never reached her, but even if I know that a letter won’t reach someone, at least I’ll have written it. And I can imagine how the conversation would go following it. I put so much of my soul into what I’m writing, even when it’s fractured and ill thought out. I just…
I have a lot of regret. And envy. Bottled up inside of me when I see that my friends, who have no interest in being authors, end up writing more often than I do. It eats away at the back of my conscious until I feel a little sick, then a lot sick, then plainly depressed. I used to have days where I would use that sickness to skip out on school for a day out of the month, and I would write in the solitude of my room, typing or scribbling so quietly that not even a Sonic Ear could pick it up.

There is so much that I care for, but there are two things that I could not live without.
I think only one person really knows what those things are, or at least they should.

Question of the Day: What is your most secretive guilty pleasure? All anons are welcome~, of course.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

It's So, So, So Much Better.

Do you know what sucks?

A lot of things, honestly speaking.

I think at least two instances out of every day, one could find something to prompt just that feeling.

Today was my younger cousin’s birthday. He turned 13.
I’m related to him very loosely, you see, like a sheet of brocade sloppily pasted over cheap silk. He’s my married-in aunt’s brother’s son out of wedlock. As with all gatherings, of course family and friends are sure to be there, yes? Neighbors and the like. I all at once was overwhelmed with a sense of estrangement. Every face was either foreign or blurry in my memory, to a point that it was a miracle I could drag out a name when asked, “Do you remember me?” “Yeah, you’re Amy, right? Gage’s mum. I’ve seen you once before~.”
I honestly could not have said I knew anyone. I don’t even really know the people that I live with. /shrugs.
Sitting in the middle of a party where you are all but a stranger is not fun. What can make it less fun is when your phone decides to eat any signal it might be possibly receiving, of course. It sucks in a bitter sort of only-three-more-hours-to-go kind of way.

Eighteen glorious years of mistakes, regrets and decisions. Right on the cusp of that lovely thing called adolescence and at the brink of maturity. The only thing that really changes is, you can’t rely on being a kid to get you out of things anymore, though. Parties can make you realize that pretty blatantly. The toddlers gawk at you and giggle madly when you talk to them but don’t understand a word unless its being forced out through cupcake crumbs. The adults all sort of convene in these tight circles and if you’re not holding up a proud bottle of beer, then you might as well be hashing the cupcakes you were attempting to avoid.

My, do I ramble or do I not?

An amusing Twitter to follow: DrunkCupid.
Misogynistic winged men in all their underlying jury anyone?

I received a ridiculous forward tonight. From a number I have not seen before. Something of his thinking of me and for the lack of more sneaky ways to trick one into continuing the chain, if I were not to forward it, he would fall for another. And still, the words rung ominous in my ears. How odd it was, to think of something like that even mattering. Just words on a screen, designed to pluck at one’s harp.

I deleted it. /shrugs.

I’ve completed Howl’s Moving Castle. The book, of course. It was… well. Mayhap it will be my first book to review.

When I sat outside earlier, the only thing the wind seemed to bring me was a stomach ache.

I crave something bloody tonight.
Let’s start a war~.

Ah, and this.

The knight did not struggle half as much as she had before. Her breast plate hit the rough bark of the tree and dented slightly from the force of the blow. Still no outstanding expression or word came of her. Two of the four men swiftly bound her to the singular trunk. Her gaze rested evenly on the retreating Lady until the flimsy barrier of her tent blocked her vision. She noted that one of the knots about her chest were not as tight as they should have been, secured in haste.
A true sovereign.
The words echoed only once more in her head, then died, dropping from her conscious as a fluttering sheet of paper would once belted by the pains of some overcome drought. Still, she did not steal the sword within her reach as the soldiers stumbled away. Dubious fear and reproachful hate stagnated the air in their wake. Even as men considered slitting her throat in the night, she could only feel weary of battles past.
She closed her eyes.
And just as soon, it seemed she was shifting the ropes to find that knot. If she did not leave soon, there would be discontent in Sedona’s camp. This fact strummed at the back of her mind, insisting that her hands more just a bit more swiftly, that her plans come just a hint faster and more cunning as they do. Much like a trained escapist, she slipped out of her restraints, leaving no mark and making no sound.

Question of the Day
: What do you see when you close your eyes?

And a new--much rarer--addition to my blog:

Assignment of the Day: Tell me a love story that begins in death and ends in sex that ruins a vow.

'Up All night' - Hinder

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Can't You See?

What Chaucer and Alice and Time has done to me?

Propped on your metal-sewn seat
You don't understand the words
That you've been making us eat
Like unsheathed soulless swords

Drop your daggers, clandestine
Fill your throat with bloody rue
Favored of the Lady Eglantyne
Measure all of your gold in due

Without your furs and precious fines
Hooded gentil face, vital white dream
Watch swiftly now the demon dines
Tears you cork for screw in fired stream

All but gagged in your juxtapositions
Boughs of ribbon red on violet coil
Trapped in your snared suppositions
You can't be much farther from royal

They'll slaughter you at this rate
Queen of Hearts hiding from Alice
On this your predestined death date
With crimson on the walls of your palace

Bare-back wrestler like chiseled stone
Lengths as tall as a canyon is wide
Missing an eye, without skills to hone
Dried up, Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Question of the Day: Do we leash our demons and run? or do we set loose our own vicious nature?

Friday, October 8, 2010

I'm Here For Your Entertainment.

Do you ever just feel... angry?

I've been in such a volatile mood lately and there's really nothing that I can account it for beyond stress. God, how do I accumulate said stress? I'm only a Senior in high school. But I do and it piles up on top of whatever happened the day before and the day before that. I have not been having a good month and you know? October is my favorite month of the year, because Fall is coming and everything is beautiful. The atmosphere is even clearer.

Everything is prettier right now -- that's the point I think I was trying to make back when I started this blog.

But there's something else about October too that makes me fill with a sense of elation. Beyond its suspending beauty, beyond the magnificent transition that catches me so steadily, it's the wind. One year ago, I was in a situation that made me utterly miserable. I was in a constant state of turmoil. At a loss, for truly I had lost all that I had. And then, in the most unexpected of ways, I felt light again. I was cleaning the rotten remains of my aunt's sorrows and her husband's irresponsibilities out of an RV that should have sparkled and still had that new-car-smell to it, but instead the cupboards and carpets reeked of decay and bitterness.
I had been shoveling maggots with my hands and scavenging trinkets, dragging barrels up to a pit to be burned and all the while enjoying my first few moments of peace in nine months. I slowed my work and lavished in the stenches, though they made me sick. I sang to myself and thought of naught. Because I finally had a moment out of her house, because finally I could breathe and though it was choked, my suffocation was not caused by dread and anguished fear.
I was rinsing out shelves with a hose, sitting on the very edge of the house's perimeter and I sat down. I felt whoozy. And then the breeze picked up. I could smell oil bubbling up from the earth, farther out in my aunt's property. I could smell the trees. I could smell mud. And the grass swayed and weeds towered up to stretch for the ever-changing sky. My hands were wet and bitter cold. My jeans were heavy. There was no sound. Nothing at all that could break the gentle whistling of the wind. God, I had known it was beauitful, but just the wind had made me realize I cherished that sparsely-walked land--even if I couldn't stand living on it.
In that moment of clarity, biting back tears and swallowing weak sobs, I just. Sat. I don't think I even breathed. And then my thoughts finally began to wander, but not in fast, short bursts. It was all one long train of thought that led me on through the course of my stay and how I had come to where I was at that moment. I thought of Alanna and Roderigo. I thought of Judy and Amanda and Brittany. I thought of my adopted grandmother, though never had I felt for her a familiar grace. I chewed on regret and anger, then let it all fizzle out of me. Slowly. Seeping into the earth and projecting it all around me, away from me. Casting it away because it had no right to be within me in the first place.

From that day, so early in October, I would suck in the wind as it danced past me. I would curl it around my fingers and let it pull at my cropped hair. I would speak into it, as if it would carry messages to those that I could no longer reach. I would cry into it in the fleeting moments that it took me to drag something outside. Then, the very moment that I would step back into her house, I would be dry and expressionless. Or polite and smiling as she wanted me to be. And I would dream in silence. I would sleep shortly, and wake swiftly. I would speak softly, but never abruptly.

I suppose that I could turn this into some religion-saved-me-in-my-time-of-need story, but it honestly didn't. I think I saved myself if ever did I need to be saved. However, timely as it was, I did find a name for what I believed in during all of this turmoil. And I think it helped me to focus on what I needed to. Because even if meditation seems all too time-wasting and tedious, that singular moment that I had to truly see in clarity what I had around me, helped me significantly. I was still suffocated and utterly struggling, but that moment... It gave me something that I could have, something that was mine, though intangible. She couldn't fucking burn that, now could she? She couldn't scare that out of me and threaten me with it. She couldn't make me feel guilty for cherishing it.

Either way the spindle wobbles, this blog funnels down to a topic that I tend to mingle with fairly often.
A friend of mine was recently inquiring about religion in general and of course, the only religion that I know is the one that I would reference too, right? I'd have no true authority dispatching opinions about another unless I had practiced and studied it, correct? (A point that would be well remembered to all.) And in truth, it reminded me very much of the stereotypes and the hollywood debauchery that has been hung over Wicca. Wouldn't it be awesome if I could conjure up some sparkling ball of energy and banish some ofrmidable demon with it? I can't. But damn, that would be awesome.
Magick, magick, magick~. Who shall hence on this earth cast it over mortals?
I could pick through every stereotype and every image in movies that has been prtrayed entirely wrong. Or. I could cut to the point.
And what fun that would be. But for a lack of time, I'll do the latter.

Honestly, I can enjoy a good book about a troupe of girls that sprout wings at will or vampires--non-glittering ones, thank you--that tear out the throats of those that they find wandering too near to their nest. I can also enjoy a cook book when I'm in the mood for baking. I'm not damning those cinematic or prosed wonders, but when people can't see the line between fantasy and reality, that's when I have a little bit of an issue. I do not, have not and never will be summoning demons out of my bedroom floor, for one. And for second, I don't think it possible, no matter how many goat babies I murdered or precious virgins I marred.
Sure, I do admit that I believe greater things exist. I believe that anything is possible. No, seriously. If an alien landed at my doorstep and asked me for some hawaiin sugar, after that initial shock? "Glad to help a neighbor." I'd smile, then get down to asking questions about wherever the hell he came from. Obviously, I would be curious, but I wouldn't cry out in disbelief and call the police or try to tear off what I could have sworn was a mask for some cruel prank. And I admit, I'd probably be terrified if he was all inhuman and sporting a set of teeth as beastly as a gnarled shark's cousin.
But I'm not exactly strict on the belief that if I somehow found the sight, I would spot Athena shining her armor on the cusp of a cloud either, you know? I don't think that every time we pray, some guy in a cloth gets a message on his beeper saying "Send a handful of Hope on down to Sue on Whatever Street," in the middle of a stroll on the rings of Saturn. (Sounds like a Linkin Park music video. -u-)

The strongest weapon you could have is your mind. How many times has that been said--inside and outside of my religion? Knowledge is power. You should cultivate your mind, yes? Use the rest of that scrumptious brain power that none of us seem to have harnessed yet. And use it in a way that suits you. But don't forget: karma is a bitch, kiddies! What goes around comes around and all that whatnot. Ah, you know all of that, right? I'm just playing parrot in a land of repitition. And those same sayings, those same elements of our every day lives? Are exactly what make up my religion.
Right before a game, the star player psyches himself up. Telling himself he can do it, everything will be fine. Then, he gets out there and he works for it. He doesn't just relax onto that cushion of thought--and he works hard for what he wants, he makes it happen. Well, if we're going to point fingers at 'practitioners,' he'll be the first that I name of the Devil's Children, because that's all we're doing people! No really! We make baubles and we put names to faces that we don't see, and granted, some people take it so much farther than it needs to go? But that's all it is.

Now, I have to cut this short, but I think next I'll bring up a little something that irks me.
Have you ever heard someone ask? "Have you ever kissed a guy? Have you ever kissed a girl? Then how do you know what you like!?"

Question of the Day: What's your opinion on some of the recent occult-based movies?