Cassandriva

I've moved!

2011-05-30T21:07:00.002-04:00

Moved blogs that is. My new blog is over here at: www.eruditevolatility.wordpress.com

Come check it out!!!

Writer's Oath

2011-04-21T09:47:00.000-04:00

I promise,
never to preach to you,
never to shove my beliefs down your throat,
never to say you are less a person for believing something different than me.

I promise,
to always address issues that matter,
to always be thoughtful,
to always make you think.

I promise,
you will never be bored with me,
you will never regret me,
you will always be surprised by me.

I do not promise,
to agree with you,
to love you,
to cater to you.

I do not promise,
to go back on what I believe,
to lie about what I believe,
to tell you what you believe.

This is my oath to my readers and to myself.

The Disturbing Lack of Talking Animals

2011-04-11T16:01:00.001-04:00

I have a confession to make: I still love to watch Disney Princess movies.

If you now think I'm a horrible person who has never grown past the age of five, I don't care. You can think whatever you want, but I still love to watch them.

But, since I'm no longer five, I have to wonder why I love to watch
Disney Princess movies. The aren't the best told tales in the world (although Tangled is an excellent movie) and cute does only get you so far in the world. Matter of fact, some of them are pretty bad. Snow White may have been the first feature length animated movie, but she can't sing. Neither can Cinderella. And some of the messages are horrible except for a few stellar examples, most of the princesses have to rely on men to take them away from whatever "in distress" scenario they are in. And the men themselves aren't even important. Some of them don't have have speaking roles! How many princes can you name?

If you look at the list I include below, you'll notice that the first two princes don't even have a name. Who they are isn't important, its what they are. Not all the princesses are royalty, but all the princes are royalty (or hold some esteemed position).

So why, even though I understand the Disney Princess movies really don't convey the best messages, do I still enjoy watching them?

Well, for starters, I have to think about the princess movies I like: Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Tangled, Mulan and Hercules (although Aladdin and Hercules are stretching it a little for the "princess movie" qualification). And what are those princesses? The majority are very independent girls. Mulan specifically stands out in this category. Even though she is dissatisfied with life as the rich man's daughter, she sacrifices a life of comfort and calm by breaking the law and joining the army to protect her aging father from war.

Belle, Rapunzel and Megara all show the same sort of spunk and independence. So, in reality, I enjoy watching Disney princesses who get their way and don't rely on other people to get what they want.

But, even though I don't particularly like Cinderella or Snow White, I do enjoy most of the Princess movies. So what is it about the princess movies which draws me in?

I think it is probably the fairy tale aspect. The romance and unbelievability. Where you love a guy and he's perfect, where girls have perfect hair all the time and look beautiful, where you can wear big dresses and no one thinks you are strange, where you can find love eternally and there is nothing to stand in your way - at least nothing a little magic and faith can't destroy.

And I think, in the end, that's why lots of women and teenage girls love Disney Princess movies. It is the ultimate fantasy. Chick flicks are all well and good but there is too much reality. When you just want to solve problems with songs and take advice from talking mice, you need a Disney movie.

So let little girls indulge in Disney princess movie, let me indulge in Disney princess movies. Reality is out there with all its problems (and lack of cute, talking animals). Let Disney movies, be Disney movies, complete with cheesy songs and cliche endings

The "official" list of princesses is as follows:

Snow White
Cinderella
Aurora (Sleeping Beauty)
Ariel
Belle
Jasmine
Pocahontas
Tiana
Rapunzel

The "unofficial" list adds:

Tinker Bell
Alice (from Alice in Wonderland)
Giselle (from Enchanted - not an animated movie)
Maid Marian
Nala (from The Lion King)
Megara (from Hercules)
Princesses Mei, Ting-Ting and Su (from Mulan II)
Princess Melody (from The Little Mermaid)
Jane (from Tarzan)

The "official" princes:

The Prince - Snow White
Prince Charming - Cinderella
Prince Phillip - Sleeping Beauty
Prince Eric - The Little Mermaid
The Beast - Beauty and the Beast
Aladdin - Aladdin
John Smith and Kocum - Pocahontas
Shang - Mulan
Prince Naveen - The Princess and the Frog
Flynn Rider/Eugene Fitzherbert - Tangled

The "unofficial" princes:

Peter Pan - Peter Pan
Robert Phillip and Prince Edward - Enchanted
Robin Hood - Robin Hood
Simbaa - The Lion King
Hercules - Hercules
Tarzan - Tarzan

Seventy-Seven Rules to Life - Introduction and Rules 1-7

2011-04-02T14:21:00.000-04:00

Before people jump on me about writing rules to life and such nonsense, let me first say that these rules are not for everyone. These are just the general guidelines I try and live my life by. They are nothing set in stone and I rarely follow all of them (I'm not perfect, sorry everyone).

Why seventy-seven rules? Because seven is my favorite number. Seven rules was too few and 777 was way too many. Seventy-seven was juuuust right. So you now have 77 rules of living life in a way which I find to be useful and productive.

I first wrote these rules a few weeks back in the Epic Book of Awesome

Which is for my eyes only.

So basically feel special that you get to read this. I was not going to post them but someone made me. He knows who he is. Although he didn't really make me he wanted me to. So I did.

Rule #1: Don't let other people dictate your life
This rule is pretty straightforward I think. Don't let other people tell you how to live and what you are supposed to think.

Rule #2: Have opinions
This goes hand in hand with Rule #1. If you don't have opinion then other people will tell you want to think and you won't know if you believe or disbelieve someone else's opinion.

Rule #3: Have a favorite color and find as many random objects as possible in that color
Bonus point if you 1) dye your hair (or some part of your hair) said color, 2) wear it everyday and/or 3) get contacts in that color.

Rule #4: Random dance urges must never be denied
See caramelldansen

Rule #5: Pick a new favorite word as often as you feel and use it in everyday conversation
Bonus point if 1) the word is over five syllables and/or 2) is archaic. Extra bonus points for using the word in a joke

Rule #6: "Cool" is a relative term
Look around you. You see 'cliques' and 'stereotypes'. Within each of those group, the individuals think they are cool. The preps think they are cool, while the scene kids think the preps are stupid. "Cool" is 100% relative. So don't think you are uncool, find people who think you are.

Rule #7: Do not be cliche
Some people may be afraid of this rule. Cliches are safe, cliches are comforting. It is much easier to follow the mold than to do what you want. But in the end you'll love yourself more for doing what you wanted and not what people told you to do.

In case you are wondering

2011-03-31T09:50:00.002-04:00

I on purposely skipped Day 30 because I can't think that far back to tell you what my favorite song this time last year was. Sorry.

Day 27 - A song that you wish you could play & Day 28 - A song that makes you feel guilty & Day 29 - A song from your childhood

2011-03-29T23:19:00.000-04:00

Well so much for staying on schedule. I'm now labeling myself a failure.

Anyway.

I'm trying to learn this song, but it isn't going so well.

Totally awesome piece of music that I love very much.

I'm not exactly sure about a song that makes me feel guilty, persay, but the emotions connected with this song make me feel guilty-ish... Sort of.

Sort of. Its not really guilt, but its the closest thing I got, so live.

This song, I know immediately.

When I was little my daddy would sing this song to me all the time. It is one of my earliest memories and it always makes me think of my daddy.

And if you haven't seen Breakfast at Tiffany's please do so. As in now. Please.

My Tale of Tales

2011-03-26T12:28:00.001-04:00

No, sorry, this isn't a how-to guide on writing a best seller (I couldn't write one anyway, I'm not a best selling author, for that matter, I'm not a selling author). This is, instead, a look out how I write stories. Not that I'm saying my way is so much better than anyone else's way, it is just my way. And I like my way. It has provided me with good results so far.

I start with an idea. Not a plot, character or setting idea. A truth I want expressed. I don't always realize this is my starting place (usually I think its a character), but in the end I realized all along I was thinking that I needed to tell people about THIS theme, THIS moral, THIS point: an idea.

Since I don't always realize I even have an idea, I can't really say "And then I think of...". Generally, I think I start with a character. A character who holds my idea foremost in his mind (For my current novel, "The Line Between", Ignacio [the main character] has a central idea of devoted love, which is my main idea, I have many, many ideas in that story, but that's the main one). Then I think of a situation which would test that idea, that drive, that motive, to the utmost.

That test usually comes in form of a villain. Continuing with my analogy with my current novel, the villain, Baqer, has devoted hate masquerading as devoted love. He believes he truly loves his victim, Zephyra (Ignacio's little sister), but he really hates her. Loves her so much he hates her.

So then I come back to my theme, become cognizant of what it is, and write it down. Eventually, that theme becomes my title. The theme of "The Line Between" is "The line between love and hate". Baqer's undying hate of Zephyra and Ignacio's undying love of her and how close the two seem to be.

Then I blow the world up into a huge drama of reality. Make it seem real. I add minor characters, I add intrigue, I add plot twists. I create a history of the world, I figure out what variables could be at play in the world (in this novel's world racism and poverty play a significant role). If necessary, how other countries view the country my story takes place. Everything that could or could not be entirely necessary to the story must be discovered and written down.

Writing is a treasure hunt coupled with self-discovery. As you write you'll learn things about yourself, often surprising things. You'll also learn all manner of interesting facts and details about the storyworld (even in nonfiction) and, most importantly, how it relates to our own world.

Happy writing!

Day 25 - A song that makes you laugh & Day 26 - A song that you can play on an instrument

2011-03-26T10:32:00.000-04:00

Since I was gone all day yesterday I'm doing two at once.

Day 25 - A song that makes you laugh

Besides the laughability of almost all pop songs in the last decade, a song which make me laugh specifically is this one:

Day 26 - A song you can play on an instrument

I can play quite a few songs but my favorite is this one:

If you are wondering what instrument, the answer is flute.

Day 24 - A song that you want to play at your funeral

2011-03-24T23:02:00.000-04:00

I've spent a lot of time thinking about my funeral, but I've never come up with a good song. I have to think about this. Death-music is very important, but pretty much I have no idea. So I just picked a really depressing song.

I mean seriously. What do you play at your own funeral?!

Day 23 - A song that you want to play at your wedding

2011-03-23T12:59:00.000-04:00

Now I'm really picky. The word "song" means a piece of music with lyrics, non-lyrical music is a piece of music or a composition or something along those lines. Not a song.

So, since the creator of the list is said 'song', I will fetch a song.

Also, since 'play at your wedding' is very broad (I plan on having lots of music at my wedding), the song I select will be a first dance kind of song.

Now that I've defined this song I present you with:

Lyrics

RAOUL
No more talk of darkness,
Forget these wide-eyed fears
I'm here, nothing can harm you
My words will warm and calm you

Let me be your freedom,
Let daylight dry your tears
I'm here, with you, beside you,
To guard you and to guide you

CHRISTINE
Say you love me every waking moment,
Turn my head with talk of summertime

Say you need me with you,
Now and always

Promise me that all you say is true
That's all I ask of you

RAOUL
Let me be your shelter,
Let me be your light
You're safe
No one will find you
Your fears are far behind you

CHRISTINE
All I want is freedom,
A world with no more night
And you
Always beside me
To hold me and to hide me

RAOUL
Then say you'll share with me

One love, one lifetime
Let me lead you from your solitude

Say you need me with you here,

Beside you
Anywhere you go, let me go too
Christine

That's all I ask of you

CHRISTINE
Say you'll share with me

One love, one lifetime
Say the word and I will follow you

BOTH
Share each day with me,

Each night, each morning

CHRISTINE
Say you love me

RAOUL
You know I do

BOTH
Love me
That's all I ask of you

(They kiss)

Anywhere you go let me go too
Love me
That's all I ask of you

Day 22 - A song that makes you sad

2011-03-22T23:59:00.000-04:00

I don't like sadness. It is...saddening. But this song is so depressing... So very depressing.

*little tears*

Day 21 - A song that you listen to when you’re happy

2011-03-21T10:38:00.000-04:00

I've been posting all this songs every day (and I think my plan is working, I'm getting into the habit of posting on my blog, so I'll stop forgetting about the poor thing, it gets lonely sometimes) and I've been considering the nature of music itself. How strange it is that a song can change our moods - or help us release pent up emotion. How genres can define people, especially in the 12-25 age group.

But anyway, I tend to have a lot of depressing songs on my iPod and I'm always complaining my friends about how I'm so happy and hyper but I don't have any happy songs to listen to. But this one always seems to perk me up. Even if I'm depressed. Its just a fun song.

Day 20 - A song that you listen to when you’re angry

2011-03-20T13:18:00.000-04:00

I recently discovered this song. It is so bitter and hateful, makes me feel much better. Not as good as writing will, but this song definitely helps.

Note on the lyrics: I've looked lyrics for this song a few dozen times over and people aren't sure what she says in the chorus. These lyrics are just as good as any others I've found.

Day 19 - A song from your favorite album

2011-03-19T10:38:00.000-04:00

Origin by Evanescence is my favorite album. It is an amazing album full of the beautiful marriage of Amy Lee and Ben Moody. This song is awesome and pretty creepy.

Day 18 - A song that you wish you heard on the radio

2011-03-19T10:29:00.000-04:00

So I screwed up one day. Big deal. If you had problems like I did yesterday you would've missed a day too.

There are so many songs I wish I heard on the radio more often, but a song I think would fit on the radio (or at least I wish it would because this song is awesome) is this one. Also...I just really like this song.

Day 17 - A song that you hear often on the radio

2011-03-17T21:00:00.000-04:00

I've heard this song so much I want to shoot it and burn it and then destroy it a million times in the fires of hell.

...

Needless to say, I hear it a lot.

I've heard this song so much I don't even like the Glee version. And that's saying something.

Day 16 - A song that you used to love but now hate

2011-03-16T22:44:00.000-04:00

After hearing it way too much:

Day 15 - A song that describes you

2011-03-16T01:58:00.000-04:00

I'm fully aware that technically this is the 16th and I'm a day late.

Deal.

Its 2 AM and I still think I'm on Tuesday.

So this song is a little out of character, but the lyrics, if you know me, describe me pretty well.

Lyrics

Once upon a time there was a girl
You wouldn't really call her typical
Had her own definition of cool
She lived in her own world
She had her own style her own rules
She played along like it was usual
Nobody really even knew her name
To her life was one big game

She's got her head up in the clouds
Sharada, Sharada
Don't know when she'll come down
Sharada, Sharada
She can't get to bed
Sharada, Sharada
She's got this song stuck in her head
(her head, her head, song stuck in her head)

Dreaming all day
That's all she did
Ever since she was a little kid
All the teacher's thought that she was slow
She was just dreaming about her show
And when they told her she's delirious
She didn't care
She's just oblivious
She likes to make everyone curious
One day she's gonna be famous

She got her head up in the clouds
Sharada, Sharada
Don't know when she'll come down
Sharada, Sharada
She can't get to bed
Sharada, Sharada
She's got this song stuck in her head
(her head, her head, she's got this song stuck in her head)

She got her head up in the clouds
Sharada, Sharada
Don't know when she'll come down
Sharada, Sharada
She can't get to bed
Sharada, Sharada
She's got this song stuck in her head
(her head, her head)

She got her head up in the clouds
Sharada, Sharada
Don't know when she'll come down
Sharada, Sharada
She can't get to bed
Sharada, Sharada
She's got this song stuck in her head
(her head, her head, her head, her head, her head, her head)

Day 14 - A song no one would expect you to love

2011-03-14T11:00:00.000-04:00

This is another tough one. What would no one expect me to love?

Oh.

I know.

Well it isn't so unexpected, but it is a little out of character for me.

Day 13 - A song that is a guilty pleasure

2011-03-13T20:52:00.000-04:00

Guilty pleasure... See, I have something against guilty pleasures. It just seems like a contradiction to me. If you enjoy something, why feel guilty about it? Especially in terms of books and music.

I suppose, then, it would be a song which I wouldn't want other people to know I liked.

...

But I don't really care what you think of my music. Just thought I'd let you know.

I'm honest, I really have no guilty pleasure music.

I can only think of one song really:

And even then I don't really care what you think of me like this particular song.

Liars and Friends

2011-03-12T21:26:00.000-05:00

I've been called a liar quite a few times for getting mad at friends over something - usually offending or hurting me in some way - and calling said friend out. I'm not the type to let things stew, I'll tell someone exactly what I mean and exactly what I want.

As you can guess, this offends people.

But the thing which gets me every time is that I'm called a liar, that I lied about ever caring about said friend and that I'm a traitor.

Why do they say those things?

I still haven't figured it out. If you know, that'd be awesome.

Because they aren't true. I don't waste time being mad at people I hate. What would be the use? I already don't like them, why not like them more? But people I like...when I'm angry at them it is because they've done something which I don't like and wish to understand - or fix - because I want to stay friends with them. I want to remain close. And remove the problem between us. When I'm angry I'm willing to accept I'm the problem.

But people just call me a liar.

I don't understand it at all...

What do you think? I get angry because of an offense and, because I've a temper, I lash out, maybe overstep my boundaries. Have I lied about caring about the person? Does getting angry erase all care and love shared between two people?

Day 12 - A song from a band you hate

2011-03-12T12:54:00.000-05:00

I don't see why all the hating is required. After all, I try not to think about bands I hate really. I don't keep a list of bands I hate just lying around so I can avoid songs by them.

So, in the face of lacking a band I hate I just thought I'd pick a song at random I really despise. (Close enough right?)

Key-Dollar Sign-Ha (Yes, that was a Glee shout-out DEAL WITH IT!)

Why do I particularly despite THIS Key-Dollar Sign-Ha song? Because, if you are smart and sneaky, you'll realize the song is the Snake Charmer song. Point proven.

Day 11 - A song from your favorite band

2011-03-11T22:43:00.000-05:00

My favorite band of all time is Evanescence. Although this is a hotly contested position. How can someone love one band more than another? That seems mean. My favorite bands are Evanescence, Paramore, Meg & Dia and Flyleaf.

And yes, I realize those bands are pretty different in styles (although Paramore and Flyleaf are more similar than you think).

But the rules of this game demand that I pick just one band and then post a song from them.

So, I would say, just by the number of songs by them that I own, Evanescence is my favorite.

So here is my current favorite song by them:

Day 10 - A song that makes you fall asleep

2011-03-10T23:28:00.000-05:00

The thing about me is that I can't fall asleep with music on. Annoying, I know. So I have no idea what to put here.

So in absence of a "correct" song I'll post something that would make me wake up.

Why?

Because I'm annoying contradictory like that.

This song actually was my alarm the other day. Scared the crap out of me.

Day 09 - A song you can dance to

2011-03-09T09:31:00.000-05:00

I can dance to a lot of songs. Dozens really. But my current favorite on for dancing is this one:

Well, for that matter, a lot of OneRepublic songs are good for dancing too.

Day 08 - A song that you know all the words to

2011-03-08T09:30:00.000-05:00

Well, the fact of the matter is that I know all the words to a few dozen songs. But only some of them can I sing without being prompted (as in I have fully memorized). Barring the songs from musicals I know much better than I ever hoped to (this is what happens when you have a brother and mother involved in musical theater) this song I have memorized front, backwards, sideways and inside out:

And to prove it to you (well not really) I'm gonna type the lyrics without looking them up (even the other songs I posted lyrics to I do have memorized I just copy-and-pasted them from a website)

Lyrics
I'm in the business of misery
Let's take it from the top
She's got a body like an hourglass
Ticking like a clock
Its a matter of time before we all run out
I thought he was mine
She caught him by the mouth

I waited eight long months
She finally set him free
I told him I couldn't lie
He was the only one for me
Two weeks we caught on fire
She's got it out for me
But I wear the biggest smile

Woah, whatever makes you break
'cause I got him where I want him now
Woah, it was never my intention to brag
To steal it all away from you now

But god does it feel so good
'cause I got him where I want him now
And if you could then you know you would
'cause got it just feel so...
Just feel so good

Second chances they don't ever matter
People never change
Once a whore you're nothing more
I'm sorry that'll never change
And about forgiveness
We're both supposed to have exchanged
I'm sorry, honey, but I'll pass up
Now look this way

There's a million other girls who do it just like you
Looking as innocent as possible to get to who
They want and what they like
Its easy if you do it right
But I refuse, I refuse, I refuse!

Woah, whatever makes you break

'cause I got him where I want him now

Woah, it was never my intention to brag

To steal it all away from you now

But god does it feel so good

'cause I got him where I want him now

And if you could then you know you would

'cause got it just feel so...

It just feel so good

I watched his wildest dreams come true
Not one of them involving you
Just watch my wildest dreams come true
Not one of them involving

Woah, whatever makes you break

'cause I got him where I want him now

Woah, it was never my intention to brag

To steal it all away from you now

But god does it feel so good

'cause I got him where I want him now

And if you could then you know you would

'cause got it just feel so...

Just feel so good

Hee, that's such a funny music video

Day 07 - A song that reminds you of a certain event

2011-03-07T10:55:00.000-05:00

This is much harder than I thought it would be. These songs.

I don't know if this classifies as an "event" persay. More of a good memory. But anyway, my parents and I watched Beauty and the Beast the other day (Yes, I'm 16) so I present to you Tale As Old As Time.

If that doesn't please you then:

But I'm not telling you about the event that this goes with. Suffice it to say it has to do with my best friend.

I Challenge You...

2011-03-06T17:14:00.000-05:00

...to write 750 words a day (for those you with nothing better to do with their lives than write and easily accomplish upwards of 2,000 words a day, go away *cough*Matthew*cough*).

If you click the clickable you'll see some information about the site and what the creator the site intended and boring crap like that.

I'm here to tell you about how totally awesome it is to have a little turkey badge and stats and how funny it is.

So, if you look at the site's FAQ you can get an explanation of how the points system works and boring minutiae like that, but basically what happens if that if you do well, you get points, if you don't do well, you don't get points and people make fun of you (no, not really, but all you win is bragging rights anyway).

The point is to complete 750 words every day and, if you do and are really good, then you get to see a stats page (like this one). Granted, take those stats with a few grains of salt (or maybe the whole container). They're only judge is the words you use, not how you put those words together. So if you are using a lot of euphemisms the word-detector thing won't pick up on that and will think you are talking about the detonative meaning of the word, not connotative.

But the stats are still lots of fun.

If you do very well multiple days in a row then you'll get little badges. I have an egg and a turkey. The egg is for joining and the turkey is for doing three days in a row. The next is the penguin. Five days in a row! I only have one day right now, but it is spring break this week so I should get five days!

There are also badges for doing other writing-related things: like winning NaNoWriMo or writing 100,000 words (on 750words, obviously).

So good luck and start writing!

Day 06 - A song that reminds of you of somewhere

2011-03-06T16:49:00.000-05:00

A song that reminds me of somewhere...

This is a tricky one, I don't give places much importance.

I actually can't think of anything off the bat... I shall dig through my iTunes to see if I can spark my memory to remember some place.

I honestly cannot think of any songs which actually remind of a physical place. Lots of songs which remind of a time or a person or a feeling, but not of a place. Very strange. And I've looked through all my songs.

I don't want to fail though!

Gr.

Well.... I have one.

When I was little it was a big, huge deal that my mom would let me take off my seatbelt when we got into our neighborhood and when she stopped to get the mail I could go sit in the front seat. Major excitement right there.

The neighborhood we lived in had three post office box like drop-offs. So instead of the mail getting delivered to your house you went to one of these drop offs and had a box number and a key and you got your mail. Like the post office boxes.

For a long time I thought that was how everyone got their mail.

Then I figured it out.

Anyway, so Mom would turn into our neighborhood, drive to the free-standing post office boxes, I would jump out of the van and go sit in the front seat (or just flip over the seats).

When I was four or five Mom cycled through a few CDs and I remember one particular song (which is below). So the song kinda, indirectly reminds me of that neighborhood. Even though 1) the song has absolutely nothing to do with the neighborhood itself and 2) doesn't really remind me of a specific place.

Oh well.

Enjoy the song though, it is a very beautiful song. You have to either hate music or be deaf to not appreciate this song.

In case everyone is really stupid that girl also sang this song which I'm pretty sure everyone knows:

(Sorry I love POTO so...you get a POTO song for free, you can thank me later)

Day 05 - A song that reminds you of someone

2011-03-05T18:31:00.000-05:00

So many people I know and so many songs that fit them. This is a tough one.

Most recently I said that this song:

Reminded me of someone (I sit here chuckling to myself now).

But the list goes on and on. Since that one is most recent we'll go with that, huh? Sounds like a plan.

The Art of Science and the Science of Art: Obviously

2011-03-05T18:14:00.000-05:00

That title could use some work I think, but I'm sick and I'm already bad at coming up with titles when my brain isn't fogged by a cold. So pretty much you are doing to deal with it.

I think this will be the last one of my Art and Science posts, but we'll see.

In my last post I explained the denotative and connotative meanings of "art" and "science". I'm not going to rehash that here, go read the last post.

All right, now that I've taken care of all the precursor information, we can move on to the meat of the issue.

The question that all this has been leading up to: Are art and science two entirely separate functions of the mind with entirely no overlap?

You know, the longer I think about this question the more obvious the answer seems to me?

And what, you ask, is this obvious answer?

It can be summed up in this very simple question:

Do you think the invention of the light bulb was pure science?

Think about it for a minute before reading on.

Hopefully, if you have any logical powers at all, you realized Edison must have had the idea to create a non-fire based source of light before he actually started trying to make one. You don't start something then make up the idea. He employed creative powers to first, come up with the idea and second, ways to make the idea work.

But, you argue, that only proves that scientists need to use creative thought in their work, how is that art?

Remember our definitions? In those definitions I mentioned that "art" can be considered a skill, but beyond that, artistic power is applied creative power. Edison applied his creative power to sciences to create (note the words "create" and "creative") a light bulb.

You counter with something along the lines that this only proves that you need so-called art for scientific discoveries, but science in art... That would just smother the creative principles? Block them out. Science is too logical, too cut and dried.

Of course not. There are rules to writing, painting, sculpting, drawing, composing, dancing... Every art has its rules and its guidelines. Things you must do and must not do (at least in theory, lots of famous artists became so because they broke the rules with style and pizazz). There is a very distinct and imperfect science to any art.

There is a definitive and definite science to art and art to science.

Or do you disagree?

Day 04 - A song that makes you sad

2011-03-04T10:13:00.000-05:00

My selection of songs which make me happy and sad are probably confusing to some. I can't really explain why The Last Night makes me so happy. It just does. It is hopeful and sweet - at least to me. So you'll have to just suffice with that answer.

As for the song which makes me sad...

Well this song makes me cry, at least if I think about it too long.

Why?

It is because of a dear, darling, sweet character.

Her name is Sienna Darkspur and she is probably my most depressing character ever.

Lyrics

Dear little girl
So much hurt
For such a young age
Trapped inside
A pretty little lie
Your body's betrayed

Don't fix your eyes
A fix you'll rely on
Fixed her eyes on
A fix she relies upon

Stand unafraid
All the good souls
Stand unafraid

When the light starts to burn
And the pain returns
I just wish that I could heal the hurt you feel tonight
There's life in your veins
These needles have chains
To hold you down.
How can you expect to win this war
If you're too afraid to fight
If you're too afraid to fight

Dear little girl
Life with so much pain
Time you can't replace
Trapped inside
Too afraid to cry
Now hands and bruises cover face

Don't fix your eyes
A fix you'll rely on
Fixed her eyes on
When the light starts to burn
And the pain returns
I just wish that I could heal the hurt you feel tonight
There's life in your veins
These needles have chains
To hold you down.
How can you expect to win this war
If you're too afraid to fight

Stand unafraid
All the good souls [all the good souls]
Stand unafraid
All of the good souls
Stand unafraid

When the light starts to burn
And the pain returns
I just wish that I could heal the hurt you feel tonight
There's life in your veins
These needles have chains
To hold you down.
How can you expect to win this war

When the light starts to burn
And the pain returns
I just wish that I could heal the hurt you feel tonight
There's life in your veins
These needles have chains
To hold you down.
How can you expect to win this war
If you're too afraid to fight

Day 03 - A song that makes you happy

2011-03-03T13:49:00.000-05:00

Happiness, huh? Song that makes me happy...

Day 02 - Your least favorite song

2011-03-02T13:11:00.000-05:00

Too many to pick from. I hate a lot of songs.

This particular one has got to be the worst though. Pretty sure. I don't like she-boys singing at me. Unless they are seven and adorable.

Don't actually click that. I don't want to hurt your eyes and ears. Really. And don't worry, tomorrow's song is going to be really awesome.

Day 01 - Your favorite song

2011-03-01T09:07:00.000-05:00

This one isn't even hard!

Lyrics:

Under your spell again.

I can't say no to you.
Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand.
I can't say no to you.

Shouldn't let you torture me so sweetly.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
I can't breathe but I feel...

Good enough,
I feel good enough for you.

Drink up sweet decadence.
I can't say no to you,
And I've completely lost myself, and I don't mind.
I can't say no to you.

Shouldn't let you conquer me completely.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
Can't believe that I feel...

Good enough,
I feel good enough.
It's been such a long time coming, but I feel good.

And I'm still waiting for the rain to fall.
Pour real life down on me.
'Cause I can't hold on to anything this good enough.
Am I good enough for you to love me too?

So take care what you ask of me,
'cause I can't say no.

I love this song so much. It is beautiful and sweet and wonderful. So gorgeous. You pretty much have to hate music to hate this song though. There is very little room for debate on that, it is gorgeous. Even if you don't like Amy Lee's voice, the song itself is wonderful.

30 Day Music Challenge

2011-02-28T18:37:00.001-05:00

Day 01 - Your favorite song

Day 02 - Your least favorite song

Day 03 - A song that makes you happy

Day 04 - A song that makes you sad

Day 05 - A song that reminds you of someone

Day 06 - A song that reminds of you of somewhere

Day 07 - A song that reminds you of a certain event

Day 08 - A song that you know all the words to

Day 09 - A song that you can dance to

Day 10 - A song that makes you fall asleep

Day 11 - A song from your favorite band

Day 12 - A song from a band you hate

Day 13 - A song that is a guilty pleasure

Day 14 - A song that no one would expect you to love

Day 15 - A song that describes you

Day 16 - A song that you used to love but now hate

Day 17 - A song that you hear often on the radio

Day 18 - A song that you wish you heard on the radio

Day 19 - A song from your favorite album

Day 20 - A song that you listen to when you’re angry

Day 21 - A song that you listen to when you’re happy

Day 22 - A song that you listen to when you’re sad

Day 23 - A song that you want to play at your wedding

Day 24 - A song that you want to play at your funeral

Day 25 - A song that makes you laugh

Day 26 - A song that you can play on an instrument

Day 27 - A song that you wish you could play

Day 28 - A song that makes you feel guilty

Day 29 - A song from your childhood

Day 30 - Your favorite song at this time last year

I stole this from my awesome friend Joanna (who I love with much loving) and all credit goes to her.

Also, I'll be posting - unless I'm devoid of ideas - a second post on Saturday and Sunday of something more substantial. Hopefully this will get me in a sort of pattern. I'm hoping. Praying. Pleading. Poor little blog.

The State of Schools

2011-02-14T13:05:00.000-05:00

The only times I've ever set foot in a public school was for the PSAT and for various music competition - and I hated being there both times. Public schools are large and complicated. But I'm not discussing my personal dislike of the architectural layout of the building. I'm here to discussing my English 101 class and how depressed it makes me (and this has nothing to do with the fact it is an 8 AM class, I swear...)

I've been greatly enjoying both of my college classes (despite dual enrollment being a little scary) because they are making me think. But rarely about the actual class content (look, I'm pretty ADD, it is a miracle I manage to make it through the classes). Instead I consider all sorts of implications from the class and material discussed and other pretty much useless things.

In English class (besides usually working on my novel or some other writing I'd rather be doing) I've discovered something interest and vaguely disturbing: I am working on my novel instead of classwork. I am not paying much attention at all to the class.

Why?

Because it is boring. I've done this work already (actually in like...fifth grade...). But there are students all around me who are entirely clueless about basic grammar principles - and when those principles are optional (because sometimes they are).

I'm the only homeschooled student (past or present) in the class.

Of course, I've never been to a high school and maybe these students just happen to be those who have problems with writing (or the vast majority, there is one guy - Matt - who seems to have a pretty good grip on writing) or some other such thing. I can't conclude that this is just because I've had a better education or am smarter or something.

But the professor is teaching this material. And expecting us to be awed and overwhelmed by it.

I'm bored. Very.

I conclude, though not conclusively, that high schools are not equipping students to transition into more advanced work. After all, I learned the basic principles of grammar in fourth and fifth grades. At the latest, students should know most of what I've been "learning" in English should be taught and mastered by seventh grade.

And it is not.

Why?

I don't know.

The Art of Science and the Science of Art: Defintions

2011-02-10T09:05:00.000-05:00

Before discussing how Art and Science enhance, not hinder, each other, defining what "art" and "science" actually are - and what I mean by the terms - is necessary. Never have an argument without knowing what you are arguing.

I'm starting with "science" because it seems to have a better denotation. I'll discussion the connotation in a moment (Note: My dictionary is from 1828)

In a general sense, knowledge, or certain knowledge; the comprehension or understanding of truth or fact by the mind
In philosophy, a collection of the general principles or leading truths relating to any subject. Pure science, as the mathematic, is built on self-evident truths; but the term 'science' is also applied to other subjects, as metaphysics; or an experiment and observation, as chemistry and natural philosophy; or even an assemblage of the general principles of art, as the science of agriculture; the science of navigation. Arts relate to practice, as painting or sculpture.

My, my, thank you Mr. Webster, for putting my point so succinctly (by the way I fixed the spelling of 'chemistry', it was spelled 'chimistry').

Since my dictionary is old, here is the definition I got off the Merriam-Webster website:

The state of knowing
a) A department of systematized knowledge as an object of study
b) Something that may be studied or learned like systematized knowledge
a) Knowledge or a system of knowledge covering general truths of the operation of general laws, especially as obtained and tested through scientific method
b) Such knowledge or system of knowledge concerned with the physical world and its phenomena
A system or method of reconciling practical ends with scientific law

Basically, the two are saying the same thing, but the second is more "plain" so to speak (it really is sad how language has degraded isn't it?). That same thing you ask? Basically that science is the knowing of something and arts is the doing of something.

Continue bearing in mind this is the denotative meaning of these words, not the connotative. Please continue remembering that until I tell you to do so otherwise.

Now for art.

The old definition (I love old definitions, they usually are more encyclopedia-ish and/or have some sort of moral lesson embedded in them).

The disposition or modification of things by human skill, to answer the purpose intended. In this sense art stands opposed to nature.
A system of rules, serving to facilitate the performance of certain actions; opposed to science, or to speculative principles; as the art of building or engraving. Arts are divided into 'useful' or 'mechanic' and 'liberal' or 'polite'. The mechanic arts are those in which the hands and body are more concerned than the mind; as in the making of clothes, and utensils. These arts are called 'trades'. The liberal or polite arts are those in which the mind or imagination is chiefly concerned; as poetry, music, and painting.
Skill, dexterity, or the power of performing certain actions acquired by experience, study or observations; as, a man has the art of managing his business to advantage

And the new definition (as the dictionary becomes a lapdesk for my computer...):

Skill acquired by experience, study or observation
a) A branch of learning
b) Learning (archaic)
An occupation requiring knowledge or skill
a) The conscious use of skill and creative imagination especially in the production of aesthetic objects
b) The fine arts, the graphic arts
a) A skillful plan (archaic)
b) The quality or state of being artful
Decorative or illustrative elements in printed matter

See the second definition, although perhaps easier to understand, was no where near as interesting as the first definition. I should write something about cool word usage and the like. Maybe one day.

But I'm off topic (surprise, surprise!).

Again, the two definitions are remarkably similar, but the first one gives us more details. The first science definition states, as I said before, that science is the knowing of something and art is the doing of something, but the definition of art takes us deeper (Inception!). In the definition of art we are introduced to two different kinds of art: The doing of something skillfully and the doing of something artistic (as in writing, painting, musicking - I just decided that is a word).

But these two words, connotatively, mean different things.

When someone talks about "science" and "art", our minds immediately picture a stately man, maybe a little crazy, in a lab coat with funny glasses or some lonely painter slaving over his soul's work in the dark.

And which of these personages is the more attractive one? The scientist looks the nerd you picked on (or were) in seventh grade and the artist looks like the bad boy from junior year, right? Which one would you want to get to know? The answer will depend upon who you are, but most people would rather know the gorgeous artist.

People have a more romantic notion of art than science. More people try their hand at some sort of art, than enjoy science. Science requires purely logical thought, handling complex equations, incomprehensible to the layman. Art, on the other, is just your feelings expressed in a visible, tangible form.

Right?

Wrong.

And I'll explain why in the next post.

I Am Forever Sorry

2011-01-27T10:04:00.000-05:00

I wrote this in English class this morning and I'm having convulsions over it. I'm not sure why. It isn't that emotional or anything, but I'm practically in tears. It is pathetic in a heart-ripping kind of way. This wasn't written for English class in case you were wondering...

Jael and Daustin are from a novel I'm writing with a friend of mine (an awesome friend!). Daustin is his character and Jael is mine. There really is no context you need to understand the story here. So enjoy.

Jael watched Daustin sleep. He was in peace. But at what price?

When would he loose his brief moments of relaxation and wake? When would his mind shake the blissful unconsciousness and return him to his personal hell? His family dead and gone, his body racked by disease and parasite. Warring against his mind and body... He would snap.

She slipped his family ring off her finger and held gazed at the silver band in her palm. She spent the last three hours watching him sleep and polish his ring. The tarnish was gone now, the silver shining brightly in the candlelight. Jael closed her fingers around the ring, pressing her fist to her lips, eyes closed against the pain and guilt.

Why? Why did this have to happen? Tears trickled down from her eyes, pulsing against her clamped eyelids. She didn't bother to brush them away or quench the flow.

This was all her fault! She knew in her heart that this was her fault. No matter what Hildago tried to convince her. This was her fault. It must be. Only her guilt and her shame gave her any drive at all.

Reparation and death.

She would kill Them. And she was one of Them. After They died, she would. She deserved no less. She was a blight on the world, a plague destroying order and peace from the inside out. She was one of Them; she would always be one of Them.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. With the gentlest of touches she placed a hand on his cheek, her lips to his forehead. With soft breath she kissed the bridge of his nose. Barely breathing, tears forming salty rivulets on her own cheeks, she hovered over his face. Her hands cold against his inflamed skin.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed. The briefest of touch of her lips to his.

She placed the ring on his chest, placing his hand over the bit of silver to keep it from falling. So much love tied up in that little ring.

"I am forever sorry."

The Art of Science and the Science of Art: Introduction

2011-01-25T09:46:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure how many parts this series-type thing will have, but the idea struck me in psychology class the other day and I need to write it. But it will be beyond the scope of just one blog. Which is nice for me. I won't have to come up with other ideas for awhile. You'd be surprised how hard it is sometimes.

There are science people and there are art people. At least so people think. It would seem to be a logical conclusion though. Most people are right-brained or left-brained, logical or creative. Few people are both. I know two people like that. They are crazy smart and it isn't fair.

But logic and creativity are not mutually exclusive. In all truth, they are equally dependent upon each other to exist. You can't have a good story without having some sort of rhyme or reason behind it and you can't have a scientific breakthrough without some sort of creative thought.

But, that begs the question what does "creative thought" actually mean? Or, to be even more simple, what does "creativity" and "logic" mean?

The next post will explain what these terms mean. So stay tuned.

This post was short. I feel a bit of let down in myself for not coming up with something longer. Hm. Oh well.

Books People Should Read

2011-01-09T22:00:00.002-05:00

I don't like writing book reviews (read it yourself, if you're curious), but I'll put all my favorite books up here (well as many as I think of) and why I think you, yes you, should read said book(s).

These are listed in no particular order, mostly because ordering my favorite books would be like having your favorite child, or pair of socks. Who does that?! Favoritism is bad, children, very bad.

First off, we have The Ender Quartet. I'm in the middle of the last book (and it is amazing) right now, so I can't tell you that there is some amazing twist ending or something like that, but I can tell you that no books have made me think so much. The themes of racism, guilt and childhood are all addressed in these books. They are pretty dark. Not in the sense of being graphic or anything (actually, they aren't graphic much at all, only one or two scenes could be considered 'graphic'), but they are just thematically dark. But at the same time not dark... A science fiction series set in various other planets. They are thinking books, so not a light read. Absolute most brilliant books I've read in a long time.

And then, of course, The Farseer Trilogy. Don't ask me me if its Far-Seer or Far-See-er. I have no idea and I think both would be applicable to the family. I don't usually like first person books because it seems fake. I mean...who tells a story about themselves in the past tense with that much detail and clarity. But it worked! I don't know how or why, but Mrs. Robin Hobb is an absolute genius! A fantasy series set in a medieval-like world, lots of political stuff so if you're more of an action-type, don't read these. If you don't pay close attention to the tiny details you'll loose the whole big twist.

The ever amazing - and long - Name of the Wind. This massive tome of fantasy is the first in a trilogy of longer books (the first one, I've been told, is 500,000 words, that is longer than the first two Lord of the Rings books. Of course, that's just the rumor...), but they are absolutely worth every single moment you spend reading. Kvothe (pronounced like 'quothe') is one of the most interesting and amazing characters in fiction. Ever. I can't really tell you much about the story, except that its a very character-driven story in first person. It read partially like an autobiography and partially like a fantasy novel and partially like a history book. But one amazing heap of brilliance. Utterly.

You may question the inclusion of The Ink Trilogy, but I don't care. These books are interesting and fun and the way Cornelia Funke has with words sings. They were the inspiration for The Line Between and I'll always have a special place for them. The story is about a girl and her father who can read things into and out of books. Using this talent they can control and manipulate stories and characters - or be manipulated by stories and characters.

Sherlock Holmes. Classic stories of the most arrogant, brilliant man ever. 'nuff said.

And Then There Were None is a book you can only read once. But the one time... Amazing. Maybe people don't like the 'classic horror' because it cliche. Now. Classic horror was thrilling and exhilarating at one time. I love putting myself in the mindset of another time period, so maybe that's why I enjoy this book and the next one more than most, but either way, Agatha Christie is a genius (and the second best selling author of all time. The best selling author of all time is coming up, don't worry). I can't tell you a thing about this book because it would really ruin the whole story.

Classic horror would not be complete without Dracula. A creepy book which keeps you going until the very last page. Don't be turned off by the incredibly slow and seemingly irrelevant middle section though.

I may be shot down for loving this book so much, but this is my list not yours, so of course Wuthering Heights must be included. Any time I mention liking Wuthering Heights, almost everyone immediately says "Oh. I like Jane Eyre better." I'm not sure why that's the immediate statement (The fact the authors were sisters, perhaps?), because in all reality the two stories are the exact same. Jane Eyre is just...happier. Not as dark. Still dark though. Wuthering Heights is also more confusing since everyone seems to have the same name... For the record, I didn't like Jane Eyre. Wuthering Heights is about passion, love and unbridled hate, envy and lust. Don't you just love the Victorian period?

If you were wondering about the best selling author of all time, my favorite work of his is Macbeth. Anyone tell I like creepy stories yet?

A trilogy of amazing, but horrifically dark, books, the wonderful Hunger Games Trilogy. The best way to describe these is the gladiator games meets the fashion world meets dystopia. They are the amazing story of a girl who rebels against the regime. I love stories like that.

A beautiful retelling of Beauty and the Beast: Beauty. One of my favorite books as a girl and still one of my favorite books.

Last, but not least, and potentially the book I'll get made fun of: The Princess Bride. I read this book every year and will probably always read it every year. The story is sweet, romantic and exciting. It truly has everything. (Any true TPB lovers will get the quote.)

List of books again and their authors:

The Ender Quartet (Ender's Game, Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide and Children of the Mind) - Orson Scott Card
The Farseer Trilogy (Assassin's Apprentice, Royal Assassin, Assassin's Quest) - Robin Hobb
Name of the Wind - Patrick Rothfuss
The Ink Trilogy (Inkheart, Inkspell, Inkdeath) - Cornelia Funke
Sherlock Holmes Novels and Short Stories - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
And Then There Were None - Agatha Christie
Dracula - Bram Stoker
Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
Macbeth - Shakespeare
The Hunger Games Trilogy (The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay) - Suzanne Collins
Beauty - Robin McKinley
The Princess Bride - William Goldman

Note: I remembered all those authors without looking them up, I'm awesome ^_^

I had an epiphany!

2011-01-06T16:36:00.003-05:00

Epiphany is so much fun to say. Try it. Please?

The other night I was lying in bed, trying to convince myself that 3 AM was a reasonable hour to sleep, despite the mountains of books lying around just dying to be read and I started thinking (I know, dangerous).

I was thinking about all sorts of things, but I was mostly thinking about modern romantic relationships and the terms people use and an article I read awhile back about a couple who held very feminazi views.

The couple didn't use the term 'my' and he refused to ever 'take' her out on a date. The terms 'take' and 'my' implied some sort of possession of her and he didn't want to come across as owning her.

Now this is a little radical (I don't think most people would really think twice about a guy saying 'I'm taking my girlfriend out on a date' but that's beside the point), but it got me thinking (okay, I read this article in August, it stayed in my mind for that long though!).

Do I, as an independent female type, really care if a guy 'laid possession' of me?

The answer is no.

Then I thought about it more and after pulling all my teenage, romantic notions out of the equation, I realized that calling someone 'my ' isn't saying you own the person, but are in an exclusive relationship.

You can't own a person. We all agreed slavery was bad in that Civil War thing, right?

But you can be part of a relationship which does not extend to other people.

You use the term 'my' all the time to describe relationships: 'my sibling', 'my parent', 'my friend', 'my enemy'. You don't own any of these people, you "own" the relationship. When you talk to someone who do share the relationship with, you would say 'our': 'our brother', 'our mom', 'our friend'.

And that was my epiphany.

Names

2010-12-23T01:05:00.005-05:00

When I was younger I was always afraid my name wouldn't 'fit' me. So I kept trying out new names. I was Rebecca, Jessica, Angela, Annika, Rachelle, Rose (I was Rose for a long time), Lily, Teresa, Skye, Erin. All sorts of names. I wanted to find one that 'fit'. I didn't want to be one of those people whose name didn't fit. The girl with the beautiful name and ugly personality. I wanted to fit my name.

You've met people whose name didn't fit, haven't you? One of my good friends, her name is Amanda. And Amanda just doesn't fit her. She's full of grace and poise and energy and Amanda just doesn't fit her. I think she should be a Clarie, but that's just me. Every time you talk to or about this misnomer person you are reminded about how the name doesn't seem to mesh with its bearer.

In most cultures names are very important. Parents take especial care in naming their child, searching for a name with some sort of familial, cultural or symbolic meaning. Near and Far East cultures are perfect examples of this. The Bible is filled with "And he shall be named X for he blah blah blah." All names were chosen with a specific purpose in mind.

A lot of consideration and thought went into a name. After all, a person would be stuck with their name for their whole life. In some cultures, a child was given a temporary name until facets of their personality were further revealed. All newborns are pretty much the same (I've seen a lot of them). For that matter, until around one and a half children are basically the same. Some cultures recognize this and give the child some sort of pet name or baby name until they are one year old and the parents and grandparents can tell more of what the new addition will be like. Then they give the child its full name.

But children are not deserving of being called by their full name. You don't address three year old Lucy Smith as Miss Smith. She's just Lucy or Lu. It isn't until she's older that Miss Smith becomes appropriate. Think back to tales of heroes and princes. They want to be worthy of their father's name or, conversely, to get rid of their father's name. Clear their name, bring honor to their name. In modern culture these are taken and poetic terms for 'family and self' but when originally penned - or at least in the time period - they honestly meant the bearer's name.

Everyone wanted - and needed - a good name.

Names don't mean as much now. Now they are just "Put first and last name here". Your family name is just a surname and your first name is just what people call you.

Maybe things would be different if people put more stock in their names. Maybe it wouldn't. I don't know. I do though. Maybe just because I'm a writer and I know naming my villain Kitten is not going to get be very suitable, just as naming my save-the-world hero Warmonger is going to sound just plain weird.

Oh, and I found a name which fit.

Samantha Paige.

Which, conveniently enough, is on my birth certificate.

yawn

2010-11-15T11:26:00.003-05:00

So I haven't posted anything for no particular reason other than I have nothing of stunning brilliance to say. I've been NaNoWriMoing all month and it has been surprisingly easy.

Who knew?

The only problem I'm running into is that I need to be done with NaNo on the 29th, not 30th and I'm right on schedule, not a day ahead. So I need to slip in that extra 1667 words somewhere. I may make that my Black Friday project.

I will admit I've started cheating though. I'm using as few contraction as possible. A silly thing, but I get two words for the price of one. I think it is a fair deal and people shouldn't be such sticklers.

I'm in Chapter 11 of my NaNo - which is Nameless, in case anyone was deathly curious.

Tern is so hard to work with. Jasaen is easier so I started writing a few scenes from his POV. Jasaen is funny and cute.

I wonder what everyone will think when they find out how Nameless ends... I won't spoil it, but anyone who knows Tern will never see this one coming!

The Dream That Does Not Contain Lizards

2010-11-06T12:36:00.003-04:00

This was from last night. Crazy dream.

I sat in a huge room, but it was dark, like right before a show. I was at a conference of some sort and this was the talent show afterwards. The people at the conference were all really snobbish though and I didn't like any of them. In an attempt to knock them down a few notched I managed to somehow get the band Paramore (one of my favorite bands) to come and play.

But they were last on the program and I was exhausted. So I went up to my room and told someone to call me before we had dinner, then Paramore would play. I also didn't feel good.

So I went upstairs and slept. I woke up a few hours later and came downstairs to find everything completely dark. Confused, I ran around the campus of wherever we were trying to figure out where everyone vanished too. I finally found them outside waving the Paramore bus away.

Of course, I demanded to know what was going on. They said they all had dinner and snacks with the band and that the band members were awesome and gave everyone in the room free tickets to their next show.

The only person who actually WAS a fan of the band, me, was not there. I was so mad. I demanded to know why no one got me for dinner and they just said they forgot. I was really, really mad and I ran off somewhere and was crying (overreaction, but whatever this is a dream).

Then a personage (I know what personage, I'm just not saying) showed up from no where and sat down next to me on the ledge. I was sitting on this ledge kinda hidden by the plants. I got mad at him for coming and finding me, but he didn't care and hugged me and it was very nice.

Then we went back to the other people and they were being really mean. Death threats and throwing stuff. So we left and went to go get cake (I don't know why cake, just go with it). Then I dropped the cake and it made a huge mess and I was mortified, but then I just laughed and helped the cake-person clean it up.

After the cake, I got coffee and started singing and dancing in the parking lot. Then it started to rain and he accused me of doing a rain dance. But then I just started dancing and singing in the rain in a very cliche manner. I jumped in a huge puddle of water and got both of soaking wet though and then he got fake-mad because I got him wet and he started chasing me. Then he tripped and fell and I laughed.

Then suddenly this huge truck came, literally, out of nowhere and ran over him.

I was horrified of course and tried to get him off the ground, but all his ribs were cracked. So I called 911 and they came and took us both to the hospital. I sat at the hospital for hours as they tried to make sure he didn't die from a punctured lung or something. I finally passed out in the waiting room after making the drowsy observation that waiting rooms should be equipped with bed.

A nurse woke me up and told me he was not dead and I could go see him.

I ran into the room and hugged him, but that hurt his chest so I stopped (this dream didn't make much sense, okay, bear with the writing here). We sat in silence, then I started rambling about how horrible it would be if he died and that I would be eternally depressed undoubtedly and that life would be miserable, etc.

Then some muddled things happen and I woke up feeling REALLY happy.

I have a very strange mind.

Zach's Letter

2010-10-20T12:16:00.003-04:00

Feel free to leave constructive criticism. It is pointless to leave negative or positive comments, but if you must, do what you will. Personally I think that the ending (the part after the closing of the letter) is too long. But I'm overly critical.

Enjoy!

~Samantha

Dear Brianna,

I love you. I'll start by saying that. I love you more than I've loved anyone else ever. Even more than Nicole. I don't really love Nicole. You knew that though. You never everything about me really. Things I didn't even know about myself. Your wisdom is scary sometimes. You were wise far beyond your years.

Maybe that's why this happened. Maybe you reached as far as you could age mentally and...

But I can't say it yet. I can't even write it. I keep hoping this is some elaborate prank, even some sort of test of my loyalty. Anything! I just hope what they say happened didn't.

If it is real... I don't know what I'll do. I'm lost without you. I have no one I can trust with everything, no one who will listen. No one to sit there while I complain. No one who acts like they care about my stupid problems when they go home to beatings and cruelty.

Yes, cruelty.

You hid from me so well through the years and months, but I knew. You only told me once what was going on in your home, but I remembered. I never wanted to bother you with asking after you, but we both knew I remembered. I tried my hardest to help without being obtrusive. You are strong and brave, you won't take charity. You want to live for yourself. I respect that. I really do. Even though my heart broke watching you leave school. You would be going home to a horrible home and family. But I couldn't ask you to leave. You were too set. You were too determined.

And everyone at school. Hateful and cruel. Hurting you and killing you. Killing you inside.

No one else will care...now.

But I will care.

I will always care.

I'm sure you are wondering how I even let...things come to this point. Why didn't I help you when you called?

Well.

I never knew.

I, so foolishly, let Nicole have my phone. You can tell what happened from there. Nothing good, that's what. I'm so sorry. I put her ahead of you and I promised never to do that. I promised I would always be there. I...

I would've answered, talked to you all night – if I knew. And its my fault for not knowing. I just hope you can hope to forgive me. Maybe I can forgive myself some day.

I doubt it. I could never forgive myself for what I've done to you. What I let happen to you. All those times you were beat in school, I should've been there. Every time your homework got destroyed I should've let you take mine. Every time someone called you...all those names... I should've knocked them down and told them to leave you alone. Every time. But I didn't.

Looking back now, I don't even know why you wanted me a friend. I did nothing I should've. I should've been at your feet. You're such a brave courageous person, living each day in the grasp of the villains of the world. I can't believe you stood me. You must've been really desperate to think of me as a friend.

Honestly.

I can't believe I didn't see this before. What a completely idiot I've been.

And now...

It doesn't matter now.

I don't think I can go any farther. I'll cover the page in my tears. I miss you Bri. I miss you more than anything. You took my heart with you when you left. And I know that sounds so sappy and cliché, but its true. I don't know how I'll keep living. Honestly. Not only because you are gone, but because if I failed you... Who else will I fail?

Maybe other people will see me for what I truly am. And they'll hate me for it. I'm nothing but a lazy, cowardly... I don't even know.

Geez.

Really, I'm not sure how many other ways I can say sorry. Sorry is not enough. Taking your place would barely begin to pay for it.

But...

What if it is better?

What if I'm just being selfish?

You didn't deserve this life.

Oh, but I would've made it better for you. I would've done everything. Given you everything I had just to make you smile once. You almost never smile. I love your smile though.

Do you remember when we met? You smiled that day.

It was fourth grade. You came to school for the first time. I remember hearing a teacher talk about. She said she didn't know how you would function in the fourth grade having never stepped foot in a school before.

“Everyone welcome our new student, Brianna Relon.”

The class simultaneously said hello.

“I like to go by Bri,” you said, so quietly.

“All right then, Bri, how old are you?”

She looked around at the classroom full of nine year olds and said the one word no one would've expected. “Six.”

Even the teacher looked surprised.

“Six? Are you sure?” She picked up a piece of paper, scanning it quickly. “Yes. Six years old.” She cleared her throat and directed you to sit down. Next to me.

I didn't want you to sit next to me. Who wanted to sit next to the baby? I made that abundantly clear for the next month didn't I?

But you never cared. You just sat there and let me call you 'horrible' names. The things heard in the school halls now are death sentences compared to what we said then. Eventually I just stopped hating you. I used to believe we both stopped hating each other, but a few days ago I realized that I stopped hating you. You can't hate. Its impossible for you to truly hate someone. Even through all you've been through. You physically could not hate someone.

Just another thing about you that is beyond any normal person's comprehension.

We have been friends since then. You always shaming me, being so strong under all the pressure. If you had the chance you would've done amazing. You are so intelligent. Wise beyond your years with the ability to learn and grasp any information in a matter of minutes. I've never seen you do badly with anything.

But no one ever noticed or cared. They just let you go to waste under the dump heap of your life. No one wanted to save you.

No. I wanted to save you, but I didn't.

I should've helped you. I know that. I'm such a fool for not helping you. Not making someone see your gifts. I could've. I should've gone to my mother and told her to take care of you. Told her to give you what you needed to survive.

But I didn't.

Maybe you struggled through school, but we both know you are the smartest in this whole county.

Seventh grade, you were younger than the other kids by a year again, but that didn't mean anything. We were in the middle of pre-algebra, everyone struggling to understand the concept of exponents.

“Brianna, what are you doing?” the teacher demanded, irate due to the class' slowness.

“I finished,” you said.

She laughed. “You think you are so smart, huh?” She grabbed you by your skinny arm and dragged you to the board, writing out a complicated equation. “If you think you know this so well, solve that!” She slammed the dry-erase marker on her desk, crossing her arms.

You stared at the problem. I couldn't believe what was going on. How could a teacher demand you do something so complicated? You picked up a green marker – always your favorite color – and uncapped it, screwing the cap on to the end of the pen. With careful strokes you solved the problem, little arithmetic problems neatly lined up on the right side of your work. To me it seemed like you spent an eternity up at the board, marking in your green marking, working toward the answer.

With equally careful slowness, you recapped the marker and placed it on the tray below the board and stepped away from your work.

The teacher didn't say anything, but ordered you back to your seat.

You sat back down and resumed working on your English homework.

In another twenty minutes the bell rang and the teacher dismissed us. “Brianna stay a minute.”

I left the room, but stood in front of the door, holding it open a crack with the heel of my shoe, eavesdropping. I was certain the teacher would see how smart you were, solving that complicated problem with such ease. I wanted to be outside to congratulate you.

“Who do you think you are, girl?”

You said something, but in your soft voice, too low for me to understand.

“You think you are so smart? Insolent is what you are!” I heard the smack of her palm against your skin. “I know you are just trailer trash. Don't go getting any big ideas that you can go anywhere in the world. I don't care if you are a child genius, you're stuck. Don't even think otherwise. Now get out of here!”

You ran out of the door and almost over me.

I'll never forget your face that day.

The left side of your face red, tears running down both cheeks, a look of utter fear in your eyes.

How many times have you looked that way when I wasn't there to see? Did you give such a terrified look as you held that knife?

No, I can't think about it yet. Its too much.

I keep expecting you to run in my room and snatch the pen away from me and tell me I'm a silly child for being so melodramatic.

But you won't, will you?

What else can I really say? I'm not sure. I'm just rambling on here, trying to find some way to... I don't even know. What am I doing? I don't know. I have not a clue. I'm just writing. Saying all the things I never dared to now. I'm such a coward!

Or... Too afraid to interfere.

A cowardly thing to say, but you are very brave and strong. I just couldn't bring myself up to your standard.

I don't know. I'm just rambling! I'm so confused, Bri, I don't know what to do. No one here gives a flip that you're...gone. They don't care at all! I'm the only one who even seems to remember you. No one else!

Just like a few hours ago. Mom walks in and tells me to go to bed.

“Hey, what's wrong?” she asks, sitting on my bed next to me.

“You know what's wrong?”

“Oh that tra-girl.”

Trailer trash. That's what she meant to say and we both know it. “Yeah. She was my best friend.”

“Zach, I honestly don't see why you were such friends with her. She was a bad influence on you really.”

“Oh really?” I snapped. “She taught me a lot about life. How she struggles through everything, every day. She isn't like her parents. She's much better than that. She's a genius!”

“Oh really?” she asked, raising on eyebrow.

“Yes!”

“Don't you talk to me like that, Zachary! I'm your mother no matter what.”

“I'm tired, Mom. Goodnight.” I went into my closet to undress, hiding there until she left the room.

I threw myself down on my bed, mad that even my own mother didn't care. I didn't except her to care about you. I've known for a long time Mom didn't like you, but she could at least care that I was upset. My own mother. How could even she act like that? So uncaring and...harsh?

Whatever. That doesn't really matter does it? It doesn't matter what people think. You and I both know what and who you truly are. My brave, wonderful, courageous best friend.

I love you so much.

I wish I told you that more often before. Maybe I wouldn't be sitting here writing this now. Maybe if I comforted you, maybe if I did...so many things.

You may think I'm wrong or stupid for this: But I entirely blame myself for...this...

No, I still can't say it.

But, if I hadn't let Nicole take my phone. If I hadn't let her get into my life in the first place. If I had paid more attention, taken better care, loved stronger. If I had not let myself be swept away by people who thought they knew what was best. Not let myself listen to them. I knew all along... Knew you, loved you.

But I never showed or told you.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

But I suppose me beating myself up over this won't do much good, will it?

That's what you would probably say anyway...

I just... I don't know. Its hard for me to really think straight right now. I just can't accept the fact you are really gone. No one else seems to give one cent. You were shuffled off before I could even find out what happened.

No funeral.

No mourning.

No tears.

Just me.

I've made a memorial to you at our school. People should remember you. Remember how strong and brave you were. How much you suffered for the tiny bit of pleasure you had in life.

The thing I wish for right now is that I could just give you a hug. Wrap you up in my arms and keep you safe from everyone else. Keep away all the evil and cruelty. I know that's not what you want, but that's how I feel. I never wanted to see you hurt, never wanted to see...this.

Brianna, I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else. Ever.

I hope that, despite my horridness to you so often, you loved me back.

With all my love,

Zachary.

Zachary put down his pen, staring the tear-stained pages before him. “Bri... I wish you were here. Then you could see what I always thought, always believed. The things I never dared to say.” He covered his face with his hands, pressing back the tears.

“I am here.”

Zachary looked up, blinking away his tears. “What was that?”

“Zach!”

Hovering before him was a semi-transparent image of Brianna. She wore a mid-calf length gray dress, her arms and shoulders bare, long hair moving as if a breeze blew through the room.

“What... What are you?”

Her pale lips smiled. “I'm Brinna's ghost.”

“Bri!” he shouted, jumping and reaching out to her.

“Don't touch me! If you touch a ghost... Bad things happen.” She looked away.

He whipped his hand back as if he touched an electric fence. “Why... How... Ghost?”

“Sh,” she whispered, pressing one gossamer finger to her lips. “I've been here for awhile. Watching you write.” She gestured to the letter. “Beautiful. Very beautiful.”

“No, its cowardly and...” He collapsed back into his desk chair. “And wrong. I could only tell you all of those things after you died. Maybe if I told you in person you wouldn't be a ghost...”

“Zachary. Stop that. I don't think anything anyone said could've changed my mind. Maybe just delayed the inevitable. Don't blame yourself.”

“But it is my fault. I let that twit Alexis take my phone and when you called I wasn't there for you. Even though I promised I would always be there for you. I failed you. And now you...”

“Stop it already! Really. If you keep blaming yourself you'll never be able to live with yourself.”

“Maybe I don't want to,” he muttered under his breath. Louder, “I don't know why you are here. I'm of no quality to be near you.”

She laughed, a simultaneously sarcastic and phantasmic. “No. Oh no. You are still alive and perfect. I'm a once-human. Doomed to wander the earth until I fade away to nothingness. I'm cursed to wander through the world, always moving, never able to stay in one place. The fate of a suicide victims. Although victims isn't really the right word. A bit self-inflicted.”

Zachary opened his mouth and closed it. “What if I commit suicide too? Join you!”

She narrowed her eyes. “You are tired and grieved, you don't know what you are saying.”

“No. No one here would really care. You read the letter. My parents... They are just...”

She crossed her arms.

“Right. Sorry.”

“People will miss you dearly Zach. You are the only person who'll miss me.”

“No. They all are ridiculing me for loving you. Being near you, around you. With you.”

“That'll pass.”

“I don't want it to. I want them always to remember you!”

“I don't want to be remembered.”

He sighed. “Bri, please. I don't want to live without you.”

“Don't be so melodramatic. Its not good for you.”

“Neither is you being alone.”

“I've been alone all my life.”

Zachary looked away, hurt.

“Zach, I'm sorry,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder

He gasped and recoiled. “What was that?”

Brianna stared at her hands. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. When, when a ghost touches a mortal, the mortal loses some of his life. If the contact is long enough, the mortal dies.”

Nodding, Zach frowned in thought. “So you could kill me?” he whispered.

“Please stop this nonsense,” she begged, backing away from her best friend. “You aren't going to die. You can't die. You'd be just like me wandering around this wretched world without love or kindness or feeling!” She balled her fists. “I'm no one. I'm an ex-human, cursed to be alone. I don't even see other ghosts. I won't let you die! I want you to live, live a perfect, full happy life. Marry a wonderful girl and have a beautiful family. You deserve that. Don't follow me. You'll turn into an emotionless...nothing! A phantom! A breath of what once was.”

“Emotionless? Brianna, I don't think I've ever seen you so emotional. You are crying.”

“Crying?” she gasped, touching her cheek. “Why? How? I can't cry!”

“But you are.”

“Why?”

“Because you aren't a ghost.”

“What? Of course I am. I died.” She pulled down the collar of her shirt revealing the red wound in her chest. “That's my heart,” she said, pointing at the red mass. She covered up the gapping hole in her body, pulling her dress back up. “I'm very dead.”

“Dead, yes, ghost, no. You are feeling. Why?”

“Because... Because...”

“Do you love me, Brianna?”

“I love you more than I loved anything else. Ever. I love you more than you'll ever know.”

Zachary stood up and crossed the room to where she stood pressed against the wall. “That's why.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I love you Brianna, I won't let you be alone.”

He kissed her.

My Kind of Modesty

2010-10-13T08:08:00.002-04:00

I wear jeans (and, as PERSONAL PREFERENCE ONLY I like wearing tight jeans, they are more comfortable for me). I have three piercings (and I want five - another ear and my nose). I wear low cut shirt (not insanely low, thank you). I wear short skirts, short shorts, tank top, high heels and cocktail dresses.

Oh, heathen me.

I wear these things because I WANT to. Because I love wearing clothes that are fun and cool. I like making outfits, I like matching and pairing and creating. If you claim this is 'taking too great an interest in our adornment' then what else is any other art form besides matching, pairing and creating? I'm employing my God-given creative mind to dress myself. And we can't say dressing myself is a bad thing.

Many people argue that clothing/appearance does not matter.

Liars. You are deluding yourself to the truth. You are boldface lying to yourself trying to make yourself feel better about how you dress, or how you look, or how a certain person ignores you. You know why: You don't have the right appearance.

Appearances always matter.

Why?

Because people stereotype.

Horrible, right?

Wrong. First of all, stereotypes are generally true. Second, everyone does it (which doesn't make it right, but still, you can't say you don't). Why do we stereotype? Because we are lazy. Stereotypes generally hold true (not the silly ones like all French are rude, but like all pop stars are just a little off in the head) and give our brains quick and easy ways to make judgement calls about whether or not we should associate with this person or dress like that person or a few dozen other things about people.

We are stereotyped off how we look and if we look a certain way many, many people will ignore us just because of how we look. You don't see a prep hanging with the goth kids, nor do you see an old man going to the mall with a bunch of teenagers. Just doesn't happen.

If stereotypes from appearance are so important why do so many Christians (especially girls) insist on dressing in the most unflattering, 'just walked out of the 1800s' clothing? You know who I'm talking about. Long denim skirts, button up shirts (all the way buttoned - fashion crime #1), tennis shoes. Right, those people.

I don't know about you, but those people annoy me. Maybe they remind me too much of the Amish. I'm not sure. But I really don't like being around those people. They lack...oomph. They lack any sort of ability to just be. They won't do anything spontaneous, they won't let themselves consider there is anything outside of their little world, they are boring (for me) to be around.*

If I, a good little Christian girl, finds them boring, what about atheists? What about the people who need to hear about Christianity?

Do you see how stereotyping comes in?

Atheists don't want to be converted. If they see one of the self-righteous buttoned up and down Christians, they'll put their defenses up right away.

Me? In my skinny jeans and tunic shirt? Why would they? I look 'normal'.

Someone out there will say that I'm not 'wearing my Christianity'. Tell me: Is it better to 'look' like a Christian or act like one?

For my part: Because of my dress, many Christians reject me. Which I think is a distinctly unchristianlike behavior. Christ ministered to a prostitute, I'm pretty sure she wasn't 'modestly' dressed for the time. Christians should be acceptive of everyone; this doesn't mean they should accept everything, they need to just welcome everyone with the open armed love of Christ. That's the only way people will listen.

*This is not meant to offend anyone, this is my opinion.

Raising Low Expectations

2010-09-15T17:24:00.003-04:00

Among the many, many (many many many many many) issues in our society, one that is quite personal is the treatment and attitude toward teenagers.

Almost as soon as you bring up the word to adults, they cringe. They don't want to think about us. Just turn on the TV. Ignoring channels like TeeNick and The N (yes, I have supa satellite TV, don't judge me) which are targeted to the 13-18 crowd, how many channels ever show any commercials with teens in mind?

For example, try the Disney commercials. "Fun for the kids!" and "The parents can get away too with our in-park babysitting service." And the teenagers? Matter of fact, there have been commercials which make a point that teens are no fun to bring on family vacations. That they wouldn't want to go anyway.

The world wants to lock high schoolers up in a little box of teenage hormones and angst and bring them out again when they are adults and, somehow, magically adjusted to life as an adult with adult responsibilities.

Three groups of people (I think, if you can name more factors, go right ahead - be nice though, I've got another post about that coming) contribute to this: parents, Hollywood/the media, and the teens themselves.

The basic explanation is that teens do stupid things, sometimes really stupid things and researchers report about it. The media then does a story about how teen pregnancy rates are at all time highs (which still is less than 90% of all teen girls - I think, it may have changed in the past year or two and I'm not going to look it up, sorry, I don't care that much). Then Hollywood makes movies and TV shows about all these teen girls who are pregnant. Parents then freak out and put more rules and regulations on the teens, making them want to do stupid things even more.

I'm 15, I know we do stupid things, don't even try to argue we don't.

But the extreme minority is not the whole (you can see this in so many places the 10% of bad X gives the other 90% a bad name). Recent polls have shown that over half of 15-18 year old girls have never been kissed.

Teens naturally want to rebel, get away from parents' influence and find their own niche in the world and its a natural process of growing up and leaving home (unless you really plan on being a dweeb and leaving at home until you are 40), but rebellion within defined terms, not an overload of rules which make it impossible for teenagers to be able to do any experimentation, make any mistakes, learn anything.

If you think this is some statement against my own parents, that would be wrong. My parents let me make oh, so many very stupid mistakes and I, really, have very few rules. And, somehow, I magically survived to almost 16 without getting pregnant, drunk, high or killed. Shocking, I know.

My personal experience with overbearing adults is limited, but everywhere I go that I'm not with my parents I have a million more rules placed on me. "Don't wear a shirt that has straps smaller than three finger widths." (Not that I would, I hate tank tops) "Don't have any displays of affection with anyone of the opposite gender." "Don't talk too loud." "Don't say this." "Make sure you don't bother the adults conversation." "Don't go off by yourself." "Don't go outside." "Make sure you are always within sight of an adult." "Don't walk through the gym barefoot." So. Many. Rules. Teenagers are not adults and we are not children. Don't expect us to think like adults or treat us like children.

We really are far more capable than adults think. before the mid-20th century, it was expected of teenagers to be able to run households, have jobs and get married before you were much older than 25.

Nothing has changed about teenagers, the way teenagers are treated has. All people, not just high schoolers, will (generally) only live up to the highest expectation. If all adults expect teenagers to be immoral, lazy hangers-on then that's how we'll act.

Journaling

2010-09-09T11:42:00.004-04:00

As you all have probably figured out, I have a journal (actually I have a dozen or so, I'm onlywriting in one. Yes, I just nitpicked with myself, shuddup). I'm very bad about this journal. I constantly forget to write in it. I end up writing it in most on Sundays for some reason. Probably because between the sermon and my own thoughts I end up with a strange stream of consciousness sprawled across the tan pages of my current journal.

It is also polka dotted which just awesome!

Anyway, I think that everyone, not just writers, should keep a journal (but especially writers and then any other kind of artist). Everyone can benefit from the recording of ideas and reflections. You may just learn something about yourself.

Journals don't need to be just a recording of life. I rarely record what I did in a day in my journal, but what I think, how I feel, what I want to do, what I don't want to do, what I should have done, hopes, wishes, dreams, fears, hates, loves... Anything. I even doodle and draw in my journal. I compose poems and short stories and songs. My journal is my most private and most valued possession and one I'm loathe to share. In some ways, my journal is my best friend and worst enemy. Its generally the worst sides of me, but sometimes its better than that.

At least its cute.

I'm posting writing, be shocked.

2010-08-25T15:33:00.002-04:00

I wrote this for my Creative Writing class. I haven't edited it or even reread it since I wrote it last week. I think its fairly decent and I have nothing else to do with it, so read it!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A woman in a long black dress stepped, barefoot, into the glade, looking around as if examining the grass and trees.

Apparently satisfied with her inspection she walked to the exact center of the clearing and raised her arms above her head and started chanting in an archaic language, her voice low and dark.

As the moon reached its zenith, the light hit the woman and her voice grew louder and commanding. She started singing her chant and the moonbeams started to move. The music swirled around her – wrapping her in joy, filling her with peace.

But not for good means.

Her dark song ended and she stared out into the trees.

Ten yellow eyes stared back

#

I sat on the dirt watching the older kids play basketball. I wanted to play and asked Jay every few minutes to let me, but he said no. He wanted me to go back home, but Mom told him to keep an eye on me.

Unable to go home, unable to play, I sat on the pile of dirt, watching the ants run back and forth. The sun beat down on me in the cloudless sky, making my task even less enjoyable.

I was bored.

Very.

An angry shout roused me from my ant-observation and I watched as the basketball bounced down the hill and across the train tracks. The boys on the court argued about who should go and get the ball. One of the boys – Murdock I think – stood over Jay, telling him to go get the ball and shut up about it.

Jay refused.

Murdock threw his hat at Jay's feet and walked off, apparently too angry to continue wearing his hat or playing the game.

Eventually Jay trotted down the slope toward the train tracks. The ball bounced over the tracks into the forest beyond and out of sight.

But then we all saw the train. Or all of us expect Jay. He didn't stop or even slow down. He kept right on jogging to the forest, either not noticing or ignoring the train.

I jumped up and ran to the edge of the court. “Jay! The train!”

But he didn't respond. The other boys joined me in my pleas to stop and look at the train, but he didn't hear one of them.

He dashed after the ball, ignoring the train.

I couldn't look as the time of impact grew closer. The collective gasp and chug-chug of the train wheels forced me to look up again. I held my breath as the train rumbled by.

As soon as the end of the train passed by I ran down the hill and across the tracks. “Jay!” I screamed. “Jay!”

Nothing. I could see no sign that Jay even walked this way.

The other boys followed me down, looking around with round eyes. All calling Jay's name.

I ran further into the woods, looking for Jay. He couldn't be dead. Wouldn't there be blood or something? He had to be in the woods somewhere, looking for the basketball.

I ran through the woods until dark, unable to stop until I collapsed, crying and shivering.

#

In my eyes, all over, blinding, flashing, stinging – polka dots! I jumped up, my eyes hurting from the dots of color and light.

“I have never ever seen someone slip on a banana peel,” someone announced.

“What?”

“Have you ever seen someone slip on a banana peel?”

“Um, no?” I answered, still unsure of my surroundings.

“Oh good.”

“Um, where am I?” I asked.

“My house.”

“Where is your house?”

“In the forest. You found it, you should know.”

“I don't remember finding your house.”

“Well that's not my problem.”

My captor/host appeared. An old gnarled man with a long white beard too large jeans held up with some twine. I stared at him. Where did this loon come from?

He chuckled. “You must think I'm crazy.”

“Yes.”

“Honest boy!” he laughed and walked off. In a moment he came back with a water bottle. “Here you go. Wake up. We have to get you back home.”

“We do?” I asked, gulping on the water.

He nodded. “Can't stay out here. What were you doing out here anyway?”

“Um...” Then all the memories of the train and Jay rushed back on to me. “Jay!”

“Jay?”

“My brother! He was on the train tracks. The basketball. And then the train...” I buried my face in my hands, sobbing.

“Sh, sh,” the old man said, patting me on the back. “We better get started getting you home – your mother is probably worried sick about you.”

I nodded, recomposing my emotions. I didn't know for sure if Jay was dead really...

He pushed open the wooden door and I saw the full moon rising. “How long have I been here?”

“A day. Which is why we need to get going.” He stepped outside, a sack of something over his shoulder.

“Are we leaving in the middle of the night?” I asked, following him out.

He nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

“Uh, no reason.”

“You came a long way from the town, it'll take awhile to get back if we started now or in the morning.”

“Oh.” How far is 'a long way', I wondered.

We walked for many hours until the moon hung overhead. I could barely take another step when the old man stopped and sat down. “We can rest here for an hour or so.”

Unable to speak, I collapsed on the ground, grunting my thanks.

In a few minutes he had started a fire and I could sit up and talk like a human again.

“See 'em out there?” he pointed beyond the ring of light.

“What?” I asked, peering out.

“Look,” he said, pointing to a dark clump.

Eyes! Yellow eyes!

“Wolves.”

I gulped down the new lump in my throat. “W-wolves?”

He nodded. “They've only appeared this past month.”

“Where'd they come from?”

“I have no idea,” he said, shaking his head, looking somber.

The wolves licked their lips, feral and dangerous, fangs glimmering in the firelight.

How in the world did I end up here? Sitting in the forest in the middle of the night? Weird twist of fate.

“We should be going.”

I nodded, watching the wolves melt into the shadows.

#

“Well, there you are.” Leaving me at my front door, he disappeared into the fading night. I found out from him I had hit my head on a rock when I collapsed. The old man took me to his house and let me recover at his house.

I sighed and went around the side of the house to the back door, knowing the front door would be locked. After Dad died overseas Mom kept the doors locked, but the back door lock broke and Mom hadn't been able to afford to fix it.

I pulled open the sliding door and shoved it shut. My mom had fallen asleep on the couch, her face stained with tears.

My poor mother.

I trudge up to my bedroom, feeling older than my twelve years. My sister's pointe shoes lay in the hallway, reminding me of the past. I kicked them into our bedroom and collapsed on the moon chair, not even enough energy to climb to my top bunk

#

Days passed and Jay didn't turn up. My mother, sister and I managed somehow, but we relied on Jay for many things. We didn't realize how much he assumed some of the roles of our father around the house.

Rumors ran around the town about the wolves and finally – after a young girl was mauled – the people took action.

I watched them gather all the weaponry they could find in the town along with a bunch of other children. They lined the shotguns and M-16s against the wall and they began on their task.

Of course, I wasn't allowed to go out in the forest with the men, but I wanted to. I felt like I had some sort of stake in this. Somehow.

My sister, always a blond, walked by with her hand to her forehead. “Name tags and glue don't go well together,” she announced, trying to rip the piece of paper off her forehead. “Anyway, Mom said that you are not allowed, under any circumstances, to go in the forest”

“I know, Lynn.”

“Good. I'll be at the mall.” She walked off to join her friends for whatever it was lazy seventeen year old girls did.

Banned from the forest I wandered to the old basketball court, watching the train tracks. What happened to Jay? I shivered. The forest held the answers. Somewhere. Deep in it.

From out of the thick trees, two figures ran out. I recognized the wild white beard of the old man who helped me all those weeks ago. Carrying...a sword?

The other person I didn't recognize.

Person?

Fur stuck off him in all directions, but he walked mostly upright. Like... Some human-beast creature. A shiver of fear ran down my spine, but I didn't move, fascinated as they ran across the meadow to the left of the basketball court's hill.

They circled back around, toward the court. I could see the creature was male and bleeding profusely from his upper arm.

The continued to circle around the hill until the creature made a dash for the cracked asphalt of the court. I backed away from the edge of the rise, wondering what I would do now. I hid underneath a rickety old bench, pulling some trash in front of me.

The creature tripped and our eyes met.

Yellow!

And his face.... “Jay?” I whispered.

He blinked at me once. I gasped as the old man ran up behind him, sword held high. He plunged it into my brother-beast's back.

I grimaced, watching him pull the bloody sword out of the man's body. “No!” I shouted, forgetting myself.

“You again?” He sighed. “I liked you, but this can't...escape.” He raised one hand and chanted in some strange foreign tongue. I felt a drowsiness come over me and I collapsed against the ground, drifting into blackness.

#

With beautiful grace, the Holstein cows jumped across the field. They twirled through a small group of trees, splashing through a stream. I watched the strange dancers leap, twist and twirl across the field to some classical music. Very odd.

Wait.

I'm dreaming.

I open my eyes and immediately shut them. The fluorescent light bulbs blinded my weak eyes. I moan and crack one eye open. “Where am I?”

Because I just LOVE controversy

2010-08-10T07:59:00.005-04:00

So if you haven't heard of the TV show Glee you must be living under a rock, in a cave, on a deserted island, in the middle of the Pacific. But, since quite a few of my friends are apparently afraid of modern culture, I'll explain (I'm also going to do a blog post on the benefits of knowing about modern culture, since its directly related to this post).

Glee is a hilarious TV show about a glee club in a public school. About half the members of the club have their own storyline, but my main point is about one particular character - Kurt. It is because of a Kurt many people I know don't watch the show Glee and because of Kurt some people look down on me for watching said show.

Why?

Kurt is gay.

I can almost hear everyone setting their minds in the 'oh no, I'm going to have to bring up all my counter-arguments for homosexuality now, make sure that everyone knows its WRONG and that, under no circumstances, should gay marriages be made legal'.

Thanks for your WONDERFUL open-mindedness.

Have you ever thought about how distinctly un-American that attitude is? And how much like a parrot you sound?

For a long time (yes, a long time, do you think that just someone is 9 or 10 doesn't mean they can't formulate an opinion?) I agreed though. I knew the Bible said homosexuality is wrong and under no means should we - as Christians - allow lesbians and gays to marry and live their lives.

But does it matter?

Before everyone decides we need to tar and feather Samii and her heathen, sinful ideas, let me explain. Please try to be a wee bit open-minded.

This is America, the land of the free. Kinda's been America's big selling point for the past 400 years. Right? The whole "live and let live", "My rights end where you rights begin", "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" thing. We all agreed there?

So how is any of those things if we are commanding a group of people to live their lives within the confines of some set of "rules". Are gays do something that is injuring someone else or another group of people? Any emotional or physical trauma or pain?

I know quite a few gays (I'm getting a worse and worse rap here amn't I?) and they are all really, really nice people - a lot nicer than many straight people/anti-homosexual Christians (I have to clarify because most of the gays I know are very religious Christians).

In my experience and research gays really just seem to be following in the footsteps of blacks - wanting their rights as free citizens of the United States of America.

You'll now say "The US is a Christian nation, founded on Christians principles."

Founded, yes. Still believes in those principles, not exactly.

Before we go further I'm not saying homosexuality is right. I fully agree it is a sin, I'm only saying that we - as Americans - shouldn't deny gays the right to do whatever we want. We are dictating religious principles on them and we have (supposedly) freedom of religion.

We - as Christians - shouldn't stand in the way of homosexual rights.

Why?

Because there is no where in the Bible that I can find which says that Christians should force people to believe.

As someone who has read the Koran, I can tell you that's what Muslims believe.

Do you really want that comparison?

I thought not.

I'm going all over the place logically, but let's see if we can all keep up here.

As Americans we should live and let live - even to gays.

As Christians we shouldn't force our morality on people because that's not Christ-like at all.

Also as Christians we should know - better than anyone - God forgives all sins. If God has decreed that someone will be among His children, nothing, nothing, will prevent that person from being in Heaven, be he gay, straight or transgender (born one sex, surgically changed to be the other).

As humans we rank sins. Murder is worse than stealing a cookie, and it is. You are robbing someone of their life in the former and robbing someone of their dessert in the latter. But to God every sin, no matter how grievous, sets us apart from God. Be it just thinking about committing a sin to raping dozens of young children - it doesn't matter.

So why, then, is homosexuality treated like something even worse than rape (personally, I think rape is worse than murder, if someone dies, they are dead, if they are raped they live with that forever. No matter what happens they'll always be afraid, always be scarred, always live with the fact someone robbed them of their innocence and purity)?

If no one is being hurt, if no one is even being slightly put out, but someone's sexuality why are we so up in arms? We outlawed rape and murder, but it still happens!

God forgives even the worst rapists and murder, He'll forgive gays.

In summary:

As Americans we shouldn't oppose homosexual rights to marry and live because it is denying a group of people their Constitutional rights to pursue happiness.

As Christians we shouldn't fight legislation to legalize gay marriages because we 1) can't force our morality on to someone, and 2) are supposed to forgive all sins.

Now, I'm not saying we shouldn't help gays. They are living in sin and they are troubled and misguided and need help. I think that Christians shouldn't just let gays do whatever they want, but they should reach out and witness to gays and show them the error of their ways gently. No need to slam their noses into a Bible and yell at them about how they're damned.

And above all get off my case about my TV show :P

Some Ruminations

2010-07-31T01:43:00.004-04:00

I'm not sure if this actually rings true or if it is just my experience, but I've noticed - in myself and quite a few of my friends - a theme of self-deprecation, low self esteem and listlessness. After many, many months of thoughts and meditation I believe I've come up with some explanations about why.

All three of these phenomena are related and can be resolved by doing the same thing: Letting go. Letting go of yourself and giving yourself to God.

Let me explain ("No there is too much. Let me sum up" - Sorry I watched The Princess Bride last night).

First of all, self-deprecation is a very horrible thing. I do it and it is very, very wrong of me. I really shouldn't. But it is false humility usually, even if the person doing it isn't aware that it is (I'm not) and a cry for attention. It is not "honesty". Recognize both your strengths and you weaknesses. But don't bemoan your "fate" of not being able to do X. You have other strengths that you can use.

And don't begrudge others their strengths (again something I do that is wrong) or people having more talents/strengths than you. It is very frustrating sometimes, but be good at what you can do and try to be the best you can be everything. Its all one is really ever asked to do. At least fairly.

Low self esteem is a much harder issue to resolve because it is a recurring and persistent issues which can takes months to years to fully resolve. The culprit is not yourself though. Well it partially is, but one's low self esteem is caused by letting a demon into your mind/heart and letting it control you instead of the Holy Spirit.

Why would Satan want you to be displeased/despise yourself?

Two reasons I can think of, both are probably true. The first is the simplest: We are created in God's image and despising yourself is, indirectly, despising God. Also, this sort of depression/hate can often lead to self-mutilation or suicide which is defacing/destroying a temple of God.

The second is more complicated.

The root of low self esteem is feeling that one is worthless or inadequate, sub-par. This is a lie. God made each and every human and cares and loves for them. Every human has worth. Why do you think murder is illegal (sort of, but we aren't talking about abortion or assisted suicide here, I've stayed away from political topics as much as I can)? Humans have worth. They have souls, precious souls. When Satan and his devils tempt you into believing you don't have this worth they are pulling you away from God. If you believe someone doesn't love you or care about you, matter of fact, despises your existence as a blight upon the Earth - do you stick around to continue having a relationship with this person?

That's what Satan is trying to do by making you believe that you are worthless. Make you believe God doesn't love you or care about you. That you are a piece of garbage in His sight and of no value to him.

Notice here how that sentiment is actually true; Satan never tells flat out lies. He twists the truth only slightly so we don't see the difference between what is right and what is wrong (although it seems to me he's been telling more and more outright lies - cognitive humans evolving from single-cell organisms?! C'mon people!).

God does see us as filthy garbage. We are sinful, disgusting, traitorous, selfish, unloving, uncaring, mean, nasty creatures. And God can stand no imperfection (do not get me involved in a debate about the problem of evil, K? Thanks).

But there is salvation. And that part Satan nicely left out, leaving many, many teenagers (as well as adults, but this problem seems more prevalent among teens) believing they are worthless and valueless, driving them to seek worth from a myriad of sinful occupations and false hopes.

There was one last thing on my list: listlessness.

Does anyone notice how many teenagers do nothing? And even those who do often feel empty and unfulfilled? I get this way often. I write novels, shorts stories, this blog, play my flute, working on my senior year of high school, plus I have dozens of friends who love and care about me, an amazing family and a job. And yet I often feel...well, listless. There is really no other way to describe. A feeling of not wanting to do anything, of wondering why, of boredom despite dozens of things to accomplish and do.

This is, again, a stumbling block of Satan's devising. I'm not sure what the root lie is here yet and I'm curious what people think it could be. Something to do with worthlessness again I'm reasonably sure. "Why bother doing anything? You won't succeed." kind of mentality. For God commands us to be busy and productive, so the logical conclusion is that Satan does not want this kind of behavior.

The only solution to listlessness and low self esteem is prayer and support from loving friends and family. For only through God can temptation be overcome. Worthlessness is resolved by being loved; listlessness is resolved by determination. Both of which God can provide.

Hated

2010-07-17T18:56:00.002-04:00

Autumn sat in the bay window, the black curtains pulled around her, cutting her off from the world. Just her tears and the window. She watched as everyone rushed by, the elevated highway going right by her window. She opened the window, feeling the breeze of the passing cars. She debating just jumping out the forty-second story window. Then she'd stop making a fool of herself.

But for some reason she couldn't bring herself to do it. Every time she'd tried, her body rebelled and stopped her from killing herself. She closed the window again and leaned her head against the cooling synthetic glass.

Her eyes welled up with tears as a bright red Redaro sped by. He drove a bright red Redaro. She was so stupid to even think he cared about her, let alone lone loved her.

She got out of the black curtained window and walked into her closet. She rolled back the rug and stared at the bloodstained floor. Every time she swore she wouldn't do this again. She pulled out a laseknife and flicked it on. The soft red beam would cut through fabric and many metals, even bone. This one wasn't strong enough to cut through metal, but it would make a severe dent in her clothing and probably cut any synthetic window or wood.

And definitely cut skin.

She turned it off laid the dangerous blade on the floor, watching it with wide eyes as she undressed. Her long black coat came off, followed by equally dark skinny jeans and boots and a dark gray shirt. She took out out her multiple piercings and the beading in her hair. She stood naked before her mirror, eyes running over her mutilated body. A few scars she received through the normal course of events in being a high profile spy, but most of them spelled out one word.

HATED

Marked over her chest and stomach. He arms and legs.

She picked up the knife.

This was HATED.

She sat cross legged on the bloody floored and etched HATED into her skin for over the twentieth time.

Cutting her skin with the laseknife didn't hurt. It never did. The knife completely dulled her pain – physical and emotional.

“I'm only a tool. Here to get what others need. Needed only for a time, but loved as much as this laseknife.”

She stared at the bloody word on her inner thigh. She found the markings beautiful in a way. She ran her fingers in the blood pooling on the floor writing out words on the floor to join the dozens of others marked on the filthy floor.

Abandoned.

Abused.

Used.

Alone.

Useless.

Pointless.

HATED.

God the Author and Us the Authors.

2010-07-09T09:49:00.007-04:00

I've had this thought before and I always was worried it was a bit...sacrilegious, but I saw the idea brought up in a WORLD magazine article and I didn't feel so sinful thinking about this.

God is the Author of Creation. Authorship implies writing something, not just creation, but writing. I'm sure most of you have heard of the cheesy his story as His story (haha, get it, lame, I know). Cheesy, quite, but true. If God is an author, the Author, that must mean He has a story and as ruler of all creation - past, present and future - His story is history - the story of the world and, therefore, creation.

The world isn't a stage, its a story.

And now the idea I thought a little 'off': If God is The Author, then what about us novelists? We are authors as well. Almost unwillingly I continued to follow this idea and realized that, yes, in some sense, authors are little gods of their own novels.

I thought this idea weird and almost a bad thing to think, but then, I realized, it couldn't be. If every single human is created in the image of God does it not make sense that in some sense each person's calling makes him a little miniature deity of whatever that is? Any form of creation (arts, sciences, teaching, government) is some form of creation or leadership, two of God's benevolent interactions with humanity (humans also can perform deeds of sacrifice, grace, mercy, etc, some of God's other gifts to us, but let's just stick with two, because it makes my analogy a bit easier to grasp).

But back to just writers and God.

Feeling just a wee bit biased toward my preferred art, I like to think that God as the Author is a very important role (over, let's say, God as the Musician). He speaks to us through the Bible (a book) and He writes history (more books). Obviously, He writes these stories through humans, but it is God's style and tone.

Which makes our job, as writers, that much more important. If, out of all forms of communication, God chose to come to use through words how much more powerful does that make our words?

Other interesting points of analogy:

Authors are little gods of their universes as they create them. Plotting and controlling them just as God oversees our own universe (an argument for predestination) and at the same time we, as authors, often are surprised by our own characters in the decisions they make (an argument for free will), but generally we always realize we would've planned that any way (predestination being completely compatible with free will).

Sin and suffering are in the world. In a novel we make our characters suffer and sin for the good of the story and the moral/theme of the story - for a realistic, believable, learn-from-able story. But we hurt and are pained while we watch/make our characters suffer - and in the end we make the suffering worth it (an argument against the idea of the existence of sin excluding the existence of a loving God),

Authors generally create more than one storyworld. Do we have any evidence that God has not done the same?

Compliments

2010-07-05T21:35:00.002-04:00

Anyone who knows me has heard me deny something good about myself. Some people say this is manipulative, I'm looking for compliments. I truly apologize for that because I never (rarely...) intent to manipulate anyone. If and when I do it usually is just to get someone to do something for (hey, I'm lazy). It was never my intent to get everyone to compliment me.

I'm going to set the record completely straight here and then maybe it'll all make sense.

I'm not as insecure as I may seem. Mostly because I'm also melodramatic and emotional - and I have my mother's tendency to exaggerate. You who deal with me regularly should realize that most of what I say when I'm upset should be taken with a grain of salt - or disregarded completely. I don't remember where I read it, but I thought this wise. "A word said in anger is rarely meant." I'm usually angry, not depressed. Angry at myself. Which then easily translate into depression, but its 99% of the time anger at myself.

Because I get angry at myself, I don't like compliments. I only get angry at/with myself (wow, I sound so schizo) because I've failed to live up to an expectation I have, someone else has or I think someone else has. When I fail to do that, I get very upset. When someone compliments me I feel like that is the expectation. Whenever someone says "Your work is brilliant/wonderful/amazing/etc" it sends a thrill through me (c'mon, who doesn't like being told that?) but it also scares me. Now I have to live up to that. I've gotten a lot better about denying compliments (I have graciously accepted some lately) but I still feel like an expectation is being put on me.

Its just like with the new Chronicles of Narnia movies. The first one was great. Everyone loved it. Everyone raved about it. Everyone expected the second one to be as good. It was good, but not Prince Caspian.

Its just like that. When someone raves about something I wrote I know they are expecting all future works to be just as good. So then, I think, what if it isn't? Won't that person (whoever they are?) be disappointed? If more than one person thought what I wrote previously was good, won't they think what I wrote now isn't?

That's why I dislike compliments about my writing. Or part of the reason.

I also deny compliments about my appearance. Now I'm going to sound arrogant: I know they are true. I know I'm quite pretty.

I'm an attractive girl.

There I said it.

And I hated it because I sound so egotistical and arrogant. Agreeing with someone that I'm pretty does the exact same thing. I'm not sure why, just does.

Which is another part of the reason I don't like people complimenting on my skills, especially if they say something along the lines of "better than me". Unless they are very skilled, far, far, far beyond anything I can do (AKA someone who I respect for what they do, not just because they are my friend) saying that just hurts me. I know I've said it a few times to people and I shouldn't, but I don't like seeing my friends dis their own work to praise mine. I just feel like I'm being arrogant.

I downplay my own work a lot and that's mainly because I never live up to my own expectations. I put a really high bar on myself and I really shouldn't. I want perfection. If I tried for something slightly less, I may be happier with my life. No, I'm pretty sure I would be. But I really can't do anything besides that, so I'm never proud of my own work so I try to convince other people of it too.

I'm honestly not trying to milk for sympathy or pity or attention. I don't want to be flattered incessantly. All of these things I've been accused of doing. Its never been my intent and I'm really, truly sorry.

Useless

2010-07-02T18:07:00.002-04:00

I've got three - three - whole chapters from my novel. I saved two scenes from all that. TWO.

"Oh, big deal Samii, its editing."

I CUT THREE COMPLETELY USELESS CHAPTERS FROM MY NOVEL

Cut.

As in got rid of.

Three completely useless chapters.

That I wrote.

I wrote something completely useless.

I just want to weep. I'm so upset. I couldn't even get the first chapter of my novel to have any meaning . What about the rest of my novel?

Now y'all shut up. Y'all are gonna say that I'm a good writer or that I had to write those chapters to figure out what I needed to end doing.

Well I'm sick of hearing that. Really, really sick of hearing that.

I'm not some great, wonderful writer. I'm not even good. If you people would shut up long enough to listen to me you'd know that. Y'all just immediately dismiss everything I have to say about myself. Its really not fair. If you actually read my work. Not just read it, but read it, put yourself in it and felt its beat, then you'd know this. But why would anything Samii has to say be of any import.

None.

Since all I write is completely useless work.

I'm going to go to my corner and cry now.

Complaining Pity Party

2010-06-29T09:26:00.002-04:00

Well, I think I get one. Just a few minutes to bemoan the THREE chapters I've cut from my novel.

Yeah.

Three.

Just think about that.

THREE.

Wait, wait, do it again.

THREE

How many words?

Like 10K.

I know.

THAT many.

See why I get a little pity party? All that hard work I invested in my novel and I just completely got rid of it.

COMPLETELY

GOT RID OF

I need a hug.

If you hear no evil, speak no evil,and see no evil - you'll probably never write a best selling novel

2010-06-15T12:19:00.003-04:00

Give them ears so they may hear

Give them eyes so they may see

Give them lips so they may speak

No, its not a Bible verse (Well I think, give me a break here, I'm exhausted :P), but I like the phrase. It expresses a sentiment I agree with whole heartedly and is my response to the phrase 'Hear no evil, see not evil, speak no evil'.

This is the argument often put against me when I talk about reading Harry Potter or Twilight or some other such book which is on the list of books no respectable Conservative Christian girl should read. "You're not supposed to expose yourself to evil" "Be in the world by not of it" etc. And I say two things 1) you haven't read it, you can read all the reviews in the world you want, but until you actually read it your opinion means about as much as that chair's and 2) if I don't read it then how will I know it is actually wrong? If I - and my parents - believe that I'm mature and discerning enough to separate evil construed as good and good construed as evil and then defend those beliefs, why should I not investigate? If I'm supposed to be defending my beliefs, but I have no idea what the opposition is, how am I supposed to actively engage anyone in a debate about anything?

If you just think about the phrase (Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil) it'll seem like a good thing. After all we, as Christians, should be avoiding evil doings and the pleasures of the flesh (AKA sin and evil). But even Christ, who lived a perfect life, saw and heard evil as well as speaking about it.

Change your view of that nice little phrase?

Fine then, you say, but you should try not to hear, see, or speak evil.

Granted. You want to stay away from evil, but if you do, how will know what is evil?

An army never goes into battle without assessing the pros, cons and necessity of the battle. They try to learn about the enemy and try to learn how they think and what kind of tactics they'll use. So why wouldn't you want to know what kind of enemy you are fighting in a spiritual battle?

You need to expose yourself, very carefully and with much prayer and meditation, to some of the evils of the world to be most prepared for fighting and defeating them. You must see and hear evil so you can then speak the truth.

So don't speak any evil, right?

Wrong.

Once you've learned what is evil, you must speak it. You must declare what it is. You must speak evil, not in a way which glorifies and makes sin good, but in a way which will show it for being, well, evil. Anything can be construed as good or bad and it is the job of artists all over the universe to make sure that what is really truth is proclaimed as such and what is really lies is proclaimed as such.

For fiction writers this an even more poignant issue. Every fiction story has a hero and a villain. The hero is supposed to embody the good ideal and the villain is supposed to embody the bad ideal. But what makes the hero sympathetic to us and the villain scary is what the hero does wrong and what the villain does right.

When we see the villain acting like us - the non-villains, the ones rooting for the hero - it will scare us. We'll see how the villains evil actions reflect our own desires. When the hero, who is supposed to be primarily a good guy, does something wrong or sinful we relate to him because we, as fallen human beings all do evil.

The writer must speak evil to show what is truth. Speaking all truth will lead to boring and one dimensional stories. Conflict between good and evil must take place.

New Story Ideas

2010-05-18T08:40:00.003-04:00

Princess Mialla

Mialla is an average sixteen year old fairy princess. Well, there is only one of them. And soon she won't be a princess, but a queen with her marriage to a king she barely knows. But during her wedding, a hoard of unknown raiders sweeps in and kills half of the guests - all of which are royalty and nobility from other countries - kidnapping Mialla.

Unsure of what will happen to her, if anyone is even alive still to rescue her, she takes matters into her own hands and starts plotting her escape

I'm least drawn to this idea. The last idea is actually my favorite...

Rouge Drake

Jaxden is a Rouge Drake, a dragon rider who is not in the employ of the government/military (that will get a cool name eventually...). He takes pleasure in his piracy abilities, robbing any and all airships which pass through his territory.

But when he unwilling takes a captive, his whole life his changed. His fears about the government and the Drakes are confirmed. His captive, a feisty girl named Aelira, is bent upon convincing them to come back and help defeat the oppressive Regime.

This idea I'm slowly liking more.

The Mythological Zoo

Okay that name will be better...

In the deep woods there hides a zoo full of every mythological or fantasy creature ever dreamed up - or at least a whole lot of them. From fairies to the Balrog. All tended by a team of around a dozen, lead by the tiny, but hard-edged Ava.

I think this idea will probably become more of a series I work on whenever I feel like it I don't have an exact plot for it. I got this idea in a dream last night and various things happened. A few ideas are:

Two female demonic creatures escape and the keepers must return them to their cages
Something gets into the water and mermaids start to die
Something involving a wily more intelligent creature which manages to take two zookeepers captive
A trek for a new creature

Just a few ideas

So, comments? :D

Resurrection and Reawaking

2010-04-20T18:52:00.003-04:00

So where did I disappear to and what was I doing?

Truthfully: Thinking, dwelling and being pretty miserable.

I've not done any writing. Barely played my flute. Was a pain to my friend whining all the time. Blah, blah.

I finally sorted my silly self out though. How did this magic come about (since anyone who knows me knows I tend to dwell on things). Well part of it I have to attribute to two amazing friends: BD and BMW (yes, I have a friend I nicknamed BMW). I had to tell them some things that weren't very easy to say.

But most of the credit must go to the amazing Elliot. He will argue with me and tell me he's no such thing, but I know better. So if he comments on this ignore him. Because he's lying. He just doesn't like being praised. Like me. He's also hypocritical sometimes (he knows what I'm talking about or should).

Anyway, what did my marvelous friend do? He reignited my creative flame. I had the tinder, but he had the match (although someone helped me organize the tinder, thank you Leafy - and he claims I'm mean to him).*

Now I'm invigorated and enthused about all things writing. Hence why I'm remembering I have a blog again. I haven't written anything yet for some reason unknown to me, but I'm really excited to get back to it.

And this makes me realize why, even though writing is a solitary art, every writer needs writing friends. People who understand, very acutely, what its like to have your creativity go on vacation, people who understand obstinate characters and plot problems.

Although Elliot didn't help me sort like Leafy did. He made me think. We have a novel we are going to write together and he made me work on it. Made me think. It wasn't intentional on his part, but I was so excited and exhilarated.

And then I remember why I love writing.

*Note how I carried the analogy through that whole paragraph, I'm so smart sometimes.

Emotion

2010-04-05T14:03:00.004-04:00

Emotion in stories - any story - is vital. It is what will draw the reader in and make the reader care about what happens to the characters. Just like in real life, emotions are hard to define, hard to explain. But in a story they are even harder because neither the writer nor the reader is actually experiencing the emotion (although if skillful, both writer and reader will experience some emotion) and this can create a block between character and person. After all, the character isn't even real why should we care? That's where the skill and not a little talent comes in.

The trick is to make the character seems very real and personal. Any human only cares about people they know. Although you may feel sorry about the death or tragedy of strangers you aren't as effected as by the scraped knee of a little sibling, even though the scraped knee is nothing compared to the thousands of deaths which occur in a natural disaster like a tsunami.

There is one very obvious step beginning writers (and published authors for that matter) often overlook when creating a character. Who do you care more about: the person who seems to have the absolute perfect life and is moral to a saintly extent or the person who is like you with troubles, hardships and joy?

For some reason, many authors seem to think that creating a perfect hero will make the character immediately likable and endearing to the reader. There are very very few instances that this will work. The perfect hero is boring. He has no dark or light past to relate to and generally has a flat personality.

That is not the way to get people interested in your character.

What will is giving the character a troubled past, but don't reveal the past in full until later in the story (no matter what it is: short story, novella, novel), but hint at it. Make the character have this guilt/grief/regret/hate/whatever else could be a lingering, dark emotion right behind all the character's actions. Everything he does is effected by this background.

Now give this character something he has to do. Something he can't back out of because of that past.

You are already at least curious, aren't you? This is the basic format of a lot of novels. At least that is how my novels are usually structured (without me even knowing it, I just was thinking and realized they were already like this).

My authority might be brought into question here and so I'll just tell you that everyone who reads my work (granted they are all fellow teen writers) think I'm quite skilled at writing emotion.

You're starting to have a character people care about. And, if you did it write, you also have a driving emotion: love, hate, revenge and closure are some very common driving emotions (love is my personal favorite by the way - any sort of love).

I didn't tell you how to write this emotion because there isn't any real 'guide' to writing it. Emotion is a highly stylistic part of any sort of writing and there is no real way to get it perfect. But I personally try to get the character as well as possible. You'd be surprised what the character and show you about themselves.

If you think I'm insane, you wouldn't be the first, but you have to talk to the character. Once the writer thinks the character is real, the reader will too. Even if you don't notice it happening. It is just one of those 'things' I think. Just like your viewpoint will be in the novel whether you put it there or not.

Its the same concept which applies to getting to know a real person. The more you talk to a person and the more you spend time with them the more you care about them. But you can't give you reader a lot of time to get to know your character. Of course a key component of a novel is showing how the character is effected and changed by the story, but you, the writer, have to dive into the story with a very, very good idea of who this character is. If you think of your novel has a dictation of the character's/characters' story this may be easier for you, I wouldn't know.

As you (until further notice 'you' refers to writers) get to know the character(s - don't forget to get to know everyone, including your villain) you'll also find out how each character expresses themselves and what emotions are strongest in them and what triggers emotions.

For example, my character Zephyra will have a giggle fit whenever she sees a bobtail cat. Don't ask me why, she just thinks is hilarious for some reason. She's strange.

It is all a very personal and stylistic experience, there is no way I can just give step-by-step instructions on how to create a story which will make your readers laugh and cry at just the right times.

On that note let me say something: It is MUCH harder to make people laugh than cry in a story. A lot of humor is based on body language and expressions, making jokes and humor work in a story can be very hard. I have one friend who is exceptionally good at this and I envy his skill (Love ya Matt). On the flipside he wishes he could make people cry (something I think I've done... Or gotten really close).

Whatever emotion you are trying to get (apparently I'm good at getting anger and hate, great), they all start with the basics: making your character human enough for your very human readers to relate to. Even if the character is an animal or alien or a chair.

If you watch some Start Trek shows, other species often comment on how humans are so unexplainable. Sometimes driven by emotion and other times putting aside all emotions to get something done. What I think the aliens never understand is that when human "put aside all emotion" they are really feeling one of the strongest emotions anyone can feel: desperation. It is a very hard emotion to express but once your character hits that point your reader won't be able to stop reading.

Well hopefully.

I hope that all made sense. This is my place to ramble after all.

Emotional Connection

2010-03-25T22:16:00.001-04:00

Hey, remember this: http://cassandriva.blogspot.com/2009/11/soul-writing.html ? Thought you did! Well I'm going to continue with that. Right now!

Have you ever read a novel without some sort of a character? Really think about this one. A full length novel without some sort of a character? When I mean character I don't mean a human who the center of the story is focused on. I mean any animal, human or object which the novel tries to show and explain.

I seriously doubt you have. It would be almost impossible to read a novel about nothing, yes? Every novel I've ever read is about what a character does and/or what happens to him/her/it. You can argue character are or are not the most important part of the story. One of my very good friends starts with a plot and theme and then characters; I start with characters then find out what their story is. Writing is an art and there is no "right" or "perfect" way to write. Heck, for all I know, some writers start with a setting and start populating it and finding interesting personages to tell the story of the setting. I don't know, I don't make a habit of asking every writing I know to explain their process to me.

But I do know that every story is brought to life more clearly when the character is real and seems like could be a person we know. Not just the main character: side characters, villain, henchmen, anyone and everyone in a novel needs to have a character people can relate to.

To be human.

This doesn't mean no animal characters. But reading a novel about animals acting as mindless and driven by immediate need as animals are would be dry and boring very quickly. Animal characters need to have a human personality as well. Even in stories where it seems animals are acting like animals (think Call of the Wild) the creatures still have some level of emotion which is not truly native to animals.

Most people can create a character who is very generic, has a personality dozens and dozens of people have without anything to set the character apart and different from anyone else.

This is boring.

Very.

For a reader to love (or hate) a character, s/he must have emotion. The character must act and think like a human and humans have emotions and are often driven by them. If a character has no emotion, what kind of character is that?

It is a character the readers cannot connect to. Your readers will all be human (at least I'm pretty sure...) and therefore your characters must have emotions to draw the reader in and make him care about the character. Or hate the character depending on the role of said character. But the reader must feel this emotion and any emotions the character feels, depending on the light said character is portrayed in.

This is one of the most vital ways of making readers truly connect to a story; to make the reader truly feel the emotion of the story. To love the story. Emotion can only be expressed through characters because characters are the only thing in a story which can have emotion - the setting can't, the theme can't, the tone can, but only because the tone is the author's voice and therefore also human.

And through the characters is the author's emotions expressed. Although the authors can show their feelings and thoughts in a myriad of ways, the most effective is through characters.

But, at the same time, the author must remember that the characters are not just little mouthpieces to spout off what the author is thinking and feeling. Characters are their own people. Ask my characters, they firmly believe they are completely real (don't tell them otherwise, causes problems).

It is a fine line to walk: where the author's powers over this creations cease and the powers of the characters' telling their own story begin. I like to walk more on the line of the characters telling their own story. It is their story and the feeling and flow of the words feels much more authentic to me if I just let my characters speak through me.

But not all authors do and I'm not condoning and upholding one way or the other. You write your way and I write mine. My only point in this long, ramble of my thoughts at the moment was to show the importance of characters in a story...

I wrote this all kind of randomly, it has just been on my mind lately. It wasn't really that coherent, but I don't really care.

In Which I Praise Myself Unabashedly

2010-03-10T21:45:00.003-05:00

So I've been working really hard on my novel lately. Really hard. A lot of energy devoted to it. Lots of emotional stress. Anyway, I wrote Chapters 5 and 6 last month and was a little disappointed in the result. I got really angry and melodramatic (I know me? Melodramatic?!) but some people eventually commented and cheered me up.

THEN

Last night I posted Chapter 7.

Here is what they said:

"I have read the chapter! :D

Unlike usual, I didn't find anything negative to say. >.> I'm slipping. :P :D

But on the other hand, that means you're doing really good! I definitely agree with Rebecca, this is the best chapter by far. It just... sings. It's got lots of dread in it, and of course, I hate Baqer. Um... yeah. I don't really have any other comments, except: 'twas great! :D I'm looking forward to more. :)"

"Um, wow.

I intended to be brutal like you asked. I was going to do one of my full critiques and outline everything that needed work, but after reading it... there really isn't anything to say! :O

The whole chapter was very, very good. Well done Samii, fine, fine work. :) In complete honesty, there was nothing in the whole chapter that was worthy of pointing out for criticism.

*applauds*

8.5/10 my dear, which is better than plenty of published books would get from me ;)"

"I LOVE this chapter...the scene between Zef [one of the heroes] and Baqer [the villain] *shudders* wonderfully done!"

"In chapter seven, the suspense you created was very well done. Baqer is nasty. "

"I HATE that insignificant twit. Baqer is one of the few villains I've known that I've hated with an absolute passion! It's almost at the point where I don't care if he's an abused kid or has a rocky past >.>"

*pants* I'm just a LITTLE happy with that!!

Your usual program will return next week after your author has calmed down a little bit...

In Defense of Twilight

2010-03-01T09:51:00.003-05:00

Before I even start with this, I'll say this: I do not like The Twilight Saga. Are we all clear on that? One more time: I do not like The Twilight Saga. You sure you understand? Need me to say it again? I do not like The Twilight Saga. I think you may 'get it'. If you don't tell me and I'll say it again. And I'll even say it randomly throughout the post. One more time before we get started: I DO NOT LIKE THE TWILIGHT SAGA!

I set myself up for a wonderful contradiction didn't I? I'm going to defend Twilight, but I don't like it. You must be intrigued. I hope...

There is a large group of people who love to hate Twilight. And I can easily see why these people feel this way. People who don't like romance novels. If you like romance novels of that kind then you like Twilight. Straightforward.

But all you people who hate Twilight are forgetting something, especially you authors: Someone wrote that novel and someone put themselves into it. Does anyone know the story of how Twilight came to be? This story resonates with me and I'll explain the story. I'm copy-pasting this from Stephanie Meyer's website directly, therefore the I's refer to Ms. Meyer.

I know the exact date that I began writing Twilight, because it was also the first day of swim lessons for my kids. So I can say with certainty that it all started on June 2, 2003. Up to this point, I had not written anything besides a few chapters (of other stories) that I never got very far on, and nothing at all since the birth of my first son, six years earlier.

I woke up (on that June 2nd) from a very vivid dream. In my dream, two people were having an intense conversation in a meadow in the woods. One of these people was just your average girl. The other person was fantastically beautiful, sparkly, and a vampire. They were discussing the difficulties inherent in the facts that A) they were falling in love with each other while B) the vampire was particularly attracted to the scent of her blood, and was having a difficult time restraining himself from killing her immediately. For what is essentially a transcript of my dream, please see Chapter 13 ("Confessions") of the book.

Though I had a million things to do (i.e. making breakfast for hungry children, dressing and changing the diapers of said children, finding the swimsuits that no one ever puts away in the right place, etc.), I stayed in bed, thinking about the dream. I was so intrigued by the nameless couple's story that I hated the idea of forgetting it; it was the kind of dream that makes you want to call your friend and bore her with a detailed description. (Also, the vampire was just so darned good-looking, that I didn't want to lose the mental image.) Unwillingly, I eventually got up and did the immediate necessities, and then put everything that I possibly could on the back burner and sat down at the computer to write—something I hadn't done in so long that I wondered why I was bothering. But I didn't want to lose the dream, so I typed out as much as I could remember, calling the characters "he" and "she."

From that point on, not one day passed that I did not write something. On bad days, I would only type out a page or two; on good days, I would finish a chapter and then some. I mostly wrote at night, after the kids were asleep so that I could concentrate for longer than five minutes without being interrupted. I started from the scene in the meadow and wrote through to the end. Then I went back to the beginning and wrote until the pieces matched up. I drove the "golden spike" that connected them in late August, three months later.

Hold up right there. Have you written a novel in three months? Have you? I have written a novel in two weeks, but it wasn't that spectacular and I'd been working on the chapters for two years already. It was actually a rewrite of a novel. She wrote a novel from scratch in three months. That should impress you.

It took me a while to find names for my anonymous duo. For my vampire (who I was in love with from day one) I decided to use a name that had once been considered romantic, but had fallen out of popularity for decades. Charlotte Bronte's Mr. Rochester and Jane Austen's Mr. Ferrars were the characters that led me to the name Edward. I tried it on for size, and found that it fit well. My female lead was harder. Nothing I named her seemed just right. After spending so much time with her, I loved her like a daughter, and no name was good enough. Finally, inspired by that love, I gave her the name I was saving for my daughter, who had never shown up and was unlikely to put in an appearance at this point: Isabella. Huzzah! Edward and Bella were named. For the rest of the characters, I did a lot of searching in old census records, looking for popular names in the times that they'd been born. Some trivia: Rosalie was originally "Carol" and Jasper was first "Ronald." I like the new names much better, but every now and then I will slip up and type Carol or Ron by accident. It really confuses the people who read my rough drafts.

For my setting, I knew I needed someplace ridiculously rainy. I turned to Google, as I do for all my research needs, and looked for the place with the most rainfall in the U.S. This turned out to be the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. I pulled up maps of the area and studied them, looking for something small, out of the way, surrounded by forest... And there, right where I wanted it to be, was a tiny town called "Forks." It couldn't have been more perfect if I had named it myself. I did a Google image search on the area, and if the name hadn't sold me, the gorgeous photographs would have done the trick. (Images like these of the Hoh Rainforest (a short drive from Forks). Also see forks-web.com ). In researching Forks, I discovered the La Push Reservation, home to the Quileute Tribe. The Quileute story is fascinating, and a few fictional members of the tribe quickly became intrinsic to my story.

Take THAT everyone who thought Forks and La Push were examples of Ms. Meyer's uncreativity. They are real places. Blame the government!

All this time, Bella and Edward were, quite literally, voices in my head. They simply wouldn't shut up. (Sound familiar?) I'd stay up as late as I could stand trying to get all the stuff in my mind typed out, and then crawl, exhausted, into bed (my baby still wasn't sleeping through the night, yet) only to have another conversation start in my head. I hated to lose anything by forgetting, so I'd get up and head back down to the computer. Eventually, I got a pen and notebook for beside my bed to jot notes down so I could get some freakin' sleep. It was always an exciting challenge in the morning to try to decipher the stuff I'd scrawled across the page in the dark.

During the day, I couldn't stay away from the computer, either. When I was stuck at swim lessons, out in 115 degrees of Phoenix sunshine, I would plot and scheme and come home with so much new stuff that I couldn't type fast enough. It was your typical Arizona summer, hot, sunny, hot, and hot, but when I think back to those three months, I remember rain and cool green things, like I really spent the summer in the Olympic Rainforest.

When I'd finished the body of the novel, I started writing epilogues...lots of epilogues. This eventually clued me in to the fact that I wasn't ready to let go of my characters, and I started working on the sequel. Meanwhile, I continued to edit Twilight in a very obsessive-compulsive way.

My older sister, Emily, was the only one who really knew what I was up to. In June, I'd started sending her chapters as I finished them, and she soon became my cheerleading section. She was always checking in to see if I had something new for her. It was Emily who first suggested, after I'd finished, that I should try to get Twilight published. I was so stunned by the fact that I'd actually finished a whole, entire book, that I decided to look into it.

Getting Published: To put it mildly, I was naive about publishing. I thought it worked like this: you printed a copy of your novel, wrapped it up in brown paper, and sent it off to a publishing house. Ho ho ho, that's a good one. I started googling (naturally) and began to discover that this was not the way it is done. (Movies lie to us! Why?! A side note: you will not be able to enjoy the new Steve Martin version of Cheaper by the Dozen when you know how insanely impossible the publishing scenario it contains is.) The whole set up with query letters, literary agents, simultaneous submissions vs. exclusive submissions, synopsizes, etc., was extremely intimidating, and I almost quit there. It certainly wasn't belief in my fabulous talent that made me push forward; I think it was just that I loved my characters so much, and they were so real to me, that I wanted other people to know them, too.

I subscribed to WritersMarket.com and compiled a list of small publishers that accepted unsolicited submissions and a few literary agencies. It was around this time that my little sister, Heidi, mentioned Janet Evanovich's website to me. In her Q and A for writers section, Janet E. mentioned Writers House, among a few others, as "the real thing" in the world of literary agencies. Writers House went on my wish list as the most desirable and also least likely.

I sent out around fifteen queries (and I still get residual butterflies in my stomach when I drive by the mailbox I sent the letters from—mailing them was terrifying.). I will state, for the record, that my queries truly sucked, and I don't blame anyone who sent me a rejection (I did get seven or eight of those. I still have them all, too). The only rejection that really hurt was from a small agent who actually read the first chapter before she dropped the axe on me. The meanest rejection I got came after Little, Brown had picked me up for a three-book deal, so it didn't bother me at all. I'll admit that I considered sending back a copy of that rejection stapled to the write-up my deal got in Publisher's Weekly, but I took the higher road.

My big break came in the form of an assistant at Writers House named Genevieve. I didn't find out until much later just how lucky I was; it turns out that Gen didn't know that 130,000 words is a whole heck of a lot of words. If she'd known that 130K words would equal 500 pages, she probably wouldn't have asked to see it. But she didn't know (picture me wiping the sweat from my brow), and she did ask for the first three chapters. I was thrilled to get a positive response, but a little worried because I felt the beginning of the book wasn't the strongest part. I mailed off those three chapters and got a letter back a few weeks later (I could barely get it open, my hands were so weak with fear). It was a very nice letter. She'd gone back with a pen and twice underlined the part where she'd typed how much she enjoyed the first three chapters (I still have that letter, of course), and she asked for the whole manuscript. That was the exact moment when I realized that I might actually see Twilight in print, and really one of the happiest points in my whole life. I did a lot of screaming.

About a month after I sent in the manuscript, I got a call from Jodi Reamer, an honest to goodness literary agent, who wanted to represent my book. I tried really hard to sound like a professional and a grownup during that conversation, but I'm not sure if I fooled her. Again, my luck was tremendous (and I don't usually have good luck—I've never won anything in my life, and no one ever catches a fish when I'm in the boat) because Jodi is the uber-agent. I couldn't have ended up in better hands. She's part lawyer, part ninja (she's working on earning her black belt right now, no kidding), a pretty amazing editor in her own right, and a great friend.

Jodi and I worked for two weeks on getting Twilight into shape before sending it to editors. The first thing we worked on was the title, which started out as Forks (and I still have a teeny soft spot for that name). Then we polished up a few rough spots, and Jodi sent it out to nine different publishing houses. This really messed with my ability to sleep, but luckily I wasn't in suspense for long.

Megan Tingley, of Megan Tingley Books, of Little, Brown and Company, read Twilight on a cross-country flight and came back to Jodi the day after the Thanksgiving weekend with a preemptive deal so huge that I honestly thought Jodi was pulling my leg—especially the part where she turned the offer down and asked for more. The upshot was that, by the end of the day, I was trying to process the information that not only was my book going to be published by one of the biggest young adult publishers in the country, but that they were going to pay me for it. For a very long time, I was convinced it was a really cruel practical joke, but I couldn't imagine who would go to these wild extremes to play a hoax on such an insignificant little hausfrau.

And that's how, in the course of six months, Twilight was dreamed, written, and accepted for publication.

SIX MONTHS! I may be the only one, but I'm jealous.

Things keep getting crazier, what with the movie deal and all the pre-publication attention that Twilight continues to receive. Though I've gotten impatient from time to time, I'm glad I've had the last two years to try to come to terms with the situation. I'm greatly looking forward to finally having Twilight on the shelves, and more than a little frightened, too. Overall, it's been a true labor of love, love for Edward and Bella and all the rest of my imaginary friends, and I'm thrilled that other people get to meet them now.

All right. Now you all know how Twilight came to be and, honestly, I love this story. I dream up most of my own story ideas, just ask my characters. They always start as dreams. My favorite one being right after I finished Inkspell (LOVE those books). I dreamed about Meggie and Farid. But they kinda mutated into the current day Zephyra and Ignacio. The next night Zef and Ig were born as an orphaned brother and sister who were alone, lost, hurt, abused and maltreated. My whole heart and soul is invested in that story and I feel that Ms. Meyer feels the same way about Bella and Edward and I think it is very cruel of people to insult the author. She loves her story. How would you, as an author, feel if you put your entire heart and soul into a novel and some people loved it, but some people were mean, nasty, cruel and evil to you and your novel. I would be devastated and I respect Ms. Meyer for continuing to write even though she's gotten a lot of crap from people.

I understand that she has put herself out there and the more famous a novel is the more it'll get attention - positive and negative. But I think this is getting a little out of hand. Ms. Meyer wrote her story. I think, as authors at least, we should respect her for that. She has done what many, many, many, many, many authors have not: written the story she loved and got published. And if you know anything about publishing she got extraordinarily lucky. Publishing houses often won't even look at new authors if they are busy or if there is a bad cover/query letter.

Even though I don't like the Twilight series I'm not going to waste my life saying hateful things about her novel or her. People complain there isn't enough vampire-werewolf action. It is a romance novel. If you want an action novel go find one. Don't read Twilight knowing it is something you don't want to read then complain about it not being what you wanted to read. If you go into the book with the mindset it is a romance novel (albeit a paranormal romance, which is kinda funny) then it can be enjoyable actually. It is a lighthearted novel really. Don't take it overly seriously. Romance novels aren't overly serious.

Don't make fun of the book, don't make fun of Ms. Meyer. It is rude, cruel and you wouldn't want people to do the same to you.

But making fun of the insane fans is permissible. :P

Writer's block and what YOU can do about it!

2010-02-24T09:34:00.004-05:00

I was doing some more research on writer's block (yes, research) and I discovered that, although everyone believe in such a thing as writer's block, that their research says a lot or writer's block comes more from the fear of writing wrong than being actually stuck.

You have an amazing story, its wonderful. Everyone in the world will read it, it'll become a galactic bestsellers. The universe will change because of YOUR story.

But you still have to write it. You just have this beautiful idea which won't leave you alone. You always have the itch to write, always, but when you sit down and try (if you even get that far) nothing happens. You freeze.

You subconsciously or consciously have convinced yourself your story must be perfect, you can make no mistakes. After all, this story will be amazing, this story will rock the socks off everyone, blow them away, shake down all the world's stupid prejudices, etc. It has to be perfect.

This is a very, very silly idea. Not that your story won't be amazing, but the idea of having to right "perfectly". Besides the fact it is impossible to write a story perfectly the first time, it is silly to think that you'll ever manage to live up to everyone's standard of perfect. Writing is an art and different arts and different styles speak to different people.

So, the first step of overcoming writer's block addiction is to allow yourself to write badly. (I can hear all my OYAN friends going w00t). Your story will be the next Oliver Twist or Hamlet. You'll be quoted and revered and called for interviews and book-signings. Publishing houses and literary agents will fight for your novel. You'll have million book publishing runs and get advances reaching into 7 digits (my little scenario there is based on novels of course...)

But you have to get the story written. And every story starts out the same way: with a first draft. And every first draft has a second name: the rough draft. You are going to take all the words which COULD be in your story and put them down on paper. Then you are going to take away all the ones which are posers trying to get into your story and mess it up.

This brings me to my second step: write no matter what. This is a step everyone knows of but I don't think many people actually follow it. I see the advice often given that if you are stuck just write something random, get your writer's brain working again. But it doesn't seem like people know how to just write. Nothing "relevant" so to speak.

There are two ways to accomplish this I think and I will provide convenient links to help! Amn't I just so nice?

Way the first: Start a journal and when you are stuck write in it. Write out all your frustration and annoyances, the problems you face in your story and brainstorm any way (no matter how stupid and weird) to get around those problems. You never know what may help. And no one is going to see the journal. It doesn't matter how goofy you look, what you talk about and what you doodle in the margins (or if you do the journal digitally then no margin doodling...shaaaaame).

Way the second: Write randomly about nothing in particular. Closely related to starting a journal, but the journal-writing has some semblance of a point. But writing about ANYTHING is hard. You sit there and think "What in the world... I can write however I want (no grammar or spelling rules) about whatever I want (from the wart on your left pinky toe to world peace). So now what?" Well I'll help you out:

oneword.com This lovely little site has a word every day and when you click the 'go" on the homepage it takes you to a text box and gives you sixty seconds to write about whatever comes to mind when you think of the word. That gives you some lovely direction. If you don't want something as broad as a word there is:
seventhsanctum.com The site for fantasy and science fiction people of all sorts (from painters to RPG-creators to novelists). I would think its pretty self-explanatory but you go to the site and click on one of the links on the side to give you an idea of you want (Names, Weapons, Places, Plots, etc) and then let the Generator Magic work. This is helpful for NaNoWriMo I'm sure, for those poor souls who get to week two and run outta ideas. Another handy tool (I'm sure you all know is...)
writeordie.drwicked.com/ A horrifically wonderful site that makes you write or...well die. You'll see when you click the link.

So now you have a toolbox of things to help you defeat writer's block. If you actually use them, unless you are very mentally inept and uncreative, then you should avoid writer's block 60-80% of the time, I'm sure.

One last tool though, find a writer's group. Writing is a solitary activity, but brainstorming is not.

Writer's Block Myth

2010-02-20T14:21:00.005-05:00

Writer's block. A disease which all writers stand in fear of ever getting. Something which comes over a writer rendering them unable to write anything. Merriam-Webster's defines writer's block
as:

"A psychological inhibition preventing a writer from proceeding with a piece of writing"

This seems like a pretty fair definition. But notice something there: 'psychological inhibition'. So what does psychological mean? Again from Merriam-Webster:

"Directed toward the will or toward the mind specifically in its conative function"

Bonus points to anyone who knows what 'conative' means.*

In 'plain' English, 'psychological' means the mental motivation to do or not do something. The human mind is the most complex mechanism ever created. Consciously or not, humans have the ability to will themselves to do - or not do - anything they wish. Stories exist by the dozens of people who performed all sorts of horrifying, and sometimes disgusting, deeds to survive in harsh circumstances - even cutting off their own limbs in very painful manners. All that humans can convince themselves to do - for reasons they know or don't - is part of psychology.

So if the 'official' definition of writer's block includes a clause about what humans can make their minds do or not do, what does that tell us about writer's block?

The title betrays my own personal beliefs of writer's block, but I shall explain how I reached this conclusion.

Writing is hard. Don't you dare try to argue that point. Writing is hard work. It uses facilities of the mind very few other occupations utilize - all at the same time. A writer has to use their lingual, imaginative/creative, logical and philosophical mental faculties all at the same time just to create the most base of stories. If writing were easy, everyone would do it (or, if you look at any literary agency/publishing house, if writing were easy everyone would get published).

Writing is hard and us brilliant humans want to avoid hard work, especially hard mental work. Probably because people don't think something like thinking can be so hard. One is always thinking something no matter how mundane. How can something we do every waking moment and even some non-waking moments be hard, tiring?

But I am not here to discuss the relative hardness of thinking. No matter how or why it is tiring, writing is tiring. And because of this our minds trying to find a way to avoid it. This is presented very conveniently in the form of writer's block.

This idea is so widespread very famous authors of today stopped writing for years, decades even, because of it. Writers can fall into serious depression and/or anger because they feel 'inadequate'. Sometimes writer's block is not the lack of ideas, but the so-called inability to write the ideas "right". Writer's block is part procrastination, part perfectionism and part laziness.

I'm not saying that writers of all sorts (even if you are a college student having to write a paper) get blocks in the road. They just have a day when they cannot write anything coherently. This could be called writer's block, but even though I have gotten stuck, I've never had writer's block.

How? Quite easily. I don't believe in writer's block.

And, although you may scoff at my denial of something which seemed to be a proven and very, very real thing, I can say I've never had writer's block, whereas people who do believe in always have.

You could counter with the argument that I don't believe in writer's block because I've never had it, which is the reverse of my own argument. You could also say I'm a "blessed one" who is able to break through writer's block easily. Those may or may not hold some truth, but I still hold to the fact that because I don't believe in writer's block it prevents my brain for telling me I'm blocked up and can't write. Your mind doesn't want to work so hard to create a story after all and if you are stuck for a day, your mind will like the lessening of work on its system and will keep you stuck, even if you aren't. But if you control what your mind dictated, your conscious brain commanding your subconscious brain, then you will not get stuck nearly as often or as much.

I don't entirely deny the existence of writer's block, having had periods where I've been stuck before, but I don't believe in it. If you think of writer's block as a religion of sorts. As a Christian I believe in God and Christianity, but I believe in the existence of various other religions. I don't believe in writer's block, but it exists.

Let's say I have a nice scenario after subjecting to you to my somewhat rambling post about writer's block: You have decided to listen to me and are asking the reasonable question: "How do I stop believing in writer's block?"

I'll devote a whole blog post to that, but I'll start with the very first step you must take: The decision to listen with open ears and mind to what I have to say. As with most things, you have to be open to the idea. Closed-mindness will destroy the world one day.

*For those who don't know it is the adjective form of conative which means 'an inclination'.

Bad post, hiding from everyone

2010-02-11T10:36:00.003-05:00

Computers continue on the warpath against me and hid my newest blog post. Its here: http://cassandriva.blogspot.com/2009/11/soul-writing.html

I growl at it.

On another note that is TOTALLY unrelated (I'm not being all blog post-y here, ha!) I'm thinking of doing a serial (no, not killing, shut up people who know me too well). A serial refers to a story released in weekly/biweekly (read: whenever I have time/get around to it) in sections. My writerly (its a word I use, get over the fact its not real) friends do the same on their blogs.

Opinion?

It would NOT be one of the ideas in my Story Ideas post. It would be my own spin on the Peter Pan tale - told first person (again, shut up people who know me too well) Wendy's point of view.

Opinions? I'd make a separate blog for it (or post it on deviantART, either one, you pick!)

Story Ideas - For the Last Time!

2009-12-08T09:53:00.013-05:00

This is starting to annoy me. I accidentally deleted my last two posts. How? Because I'm a dimwit and my computer doesn't always think its fun to cooperate me. How many times do I need to type up all my story ideas?! Especially since I have a few that I don't have saved anywhere else. I'm a little frustrated.

Okay, so take four or seven or twenty or something insane like that.

Note (for the last time): I'm listing these in the order I am writing them.

The Line Between

Zephyra and Ignacio are orphaned Roamer siblings blessed with very unique powers over wind and fire respectively. They perform on street corners mostly, hoping to get enough money to get them to the next day with minimal hunger and chill.

When they are offered a chance to play at Prince Drake Brend's birthday celebration, they take up the offer, with some trepidation for generally nobility and royalty wants to rid the world of the "nuisance" that is Roamers. But the lure of their payment is too great for them to ignore.

But disaster strikes much too soon and Ignacio is forced to embark on a hopeless mission to save his sister from certain death. The life of the young and beautiful Zephyra, devoted and strong Ignacio and lunatic Lord Arcin Baqer all hang in balance, who lives and who dies?

Note the Second: Zephyra is pronounce HOW IT LOOKS. Zephyr-a. Not Ze-fi-ruh or whatever it is people call her. She's not a dragon. Doesn't even play with fire like her brother. Her name sounds like Zef-ruh if you say it fast. Ignacio is pronounced Ig-naysh-ee-oh. People sometimes mess his up. Arcin Baqer is just way out there, I'll explain that one. Ar-sin Bach-qu-air. There was a 'u' in his name at one point after the 'q' but I didn't like it so I took it out. The 'bach' is VERY soft. Not the Germanic 'ach' noise. More aaaahh, with a soft 'c/s' sound in there. Yes, his name is confusing, but I like it.

The Darkspur Saga: Survivor and Savior

At the tender age of three months, Sienna Celeste Darkspur is stolen from her home, leaving her parents in constant worry, not just because she is gone, but because she has very powerful telepathic skills they are sure someone is exploiting. They are not strong enough to go and find her themselves, so they must subtly train Sienna's twin to find her sister. The attraction between the magics in their bodies will bring them together eventually. When the parents are mysteriously murdered, Autumn Zoe is left alone in the world at thirteen.

She immediately drops out of school and joins one of the mobs which populate Zhydda, looking for the Sienna Celeste her parents told her about. One late night she is kidnapped by strange ninja-like robots. She finds herself the victim of weird tests and injections by some crazed scientist.

All the missing pieces of her life start falling into place as she discovers her long-lost twin and learns secrets her parents kept from her. But soon they all fall apart again as their ex-captor starts a world-domination, potentially word-destroying, scheme.

Nameless

For her whole life Tern has been treated as an outcast, just on the border of being burned as a witch because of her very strange and outlandish appearance. She leaves home at an early age, trying to find anyone who looked like her, or would at least accept her, freakish appearance and all.

Unable to find this she retreats to the depths of a huge forest, trying to find a way to stay away from everyone, all the hate and prejudiced. She is barely there a day before disaster strikes. An otherworldly beast attacks her, almost killing her.

She wakes up in another world.

Tern is quickly plunged into a confused mass of answers leading to questions and questions which lead to danger. The only way she can find out who she is and her own name is to stop the destruction of the universe.

Refuge

One sticky, tense summer night, Chelsea stands on bridge looking at the deep, murky water willing herself to jump off the edge. She can't stand her life anymore, living is not worth the abuse and the pain. Just as gravity starts to pull her down, a strong arm pulls back on to the bridge and pushes a note into her hand.

"I'll give you a ten minute head-start."

She looks at the owner of the arm which pulled her from suicide and all she sees is a black form, evil blue eyes and a matching white smirk.

Terrified she starts to run. And run. She must get away at all costs. The life she was so willing to throw away a few minutes ago now becomes her most precious belonging.

She finds herself, with a golden retriever mutt named Kaylee, in a peaceful suburban home on Christmas Eve. Freezing, she finds an old playhouse to hide in. She thinks the place safer than continual running and decides to hide there. But she won't stay hidden for long.

Darkspur Saga: No title

This the prequel to Autumn and Sienna

Alar Darkspur is the military's finest. He's an assassin, spy and thief. During the horrific War of the Apocalypse he is sent to recover some sort of magical item from a shaman on the opposing side. He recovers this item, but not until the shaman pours all the object's power into Darkspur's body. His newfound powers fight for a way out of their new entrapment and results in a huge explosion destroying most of the city.

Somehow, Darkspur survives.

Terrified he goes back to his king and gave him the now useless gem. Then he disappeared. He didn't know what to do with his new powers, but felt that they would be dnagerous.

He was right.

With so much power, Darkspur began to think his powers would be best used for making himself supreme ruler of the world. With this goal in mind he started kidnapping young people who would make good fighters and bringing them to his hidden castle. He would train them through magical means to be reckless fighters of immense skill and strength.

One girl was different and willingly came to Darkspur's side. She became his constant companion. Little did he know she was working for the king to track him down and stop him.

No title (Echo/Blood-King's story)

Echo is a strange being. His teeth are filed to points, his eyes are blood red, and his skin pasty white. He stalked the streets at night hunting for blood. He was called a vampire and a demon, but all was only the Blood-King. Ruler of the life which flowed in the veins of men. He could control it, bent it to his will and more than anything else - feast

His world is rocked when a young girl asks him what blood is and what he has done to her father.

00:15 (Fifteen Minutes)

Todd walks into a crowded bar, searching for the right person. Once he finds this person all will be better.

Or so he thinks.

After tricking a woman near his age into a back room he tells her she needs to kill him. Kill him immediately for in 15 minutes he'll turn into a horrible monster which will not stop feasting for any reason.

The woman, Amy, is shocked by this request as any sane person would be. She refuses.

Until he starts mutating.

(Untitled) - Nicolette's Story

Nicolette was born in the Alps of France with dreams of studying art in Paris. She got a scholarship to fulfill her dreams and left for Paris as soon as she could. But unknown dangers awaited her there.

Kris hated his life. He wanted to run away from all that was his past and he fled to Paris. But his father found him still and charged him with a task - or he would be dead: Find the most beautiful girl in Paris and kill her.

(Untitled) - Tenoch and Atzi's story

Tenoch is in love, but his father disapproves him and his love, Atzi. After an argument, Tenoch tells his father he would marry Atzi with or without permission. To stop this from happening, Tenoch's father drugs his sound and sends him to fight in one of the Aztec Flower Wars.

Atzi is horrified at the happenings and anxiously awaits the return of her love. When he doesn't return with the rest of the warriors, Atzi decides to go and find Tenoch herself.

Unless he was already dead.

I can't remember my other story ideas. There were two, three or four more I'm sure, but my brain is dead at the moment. If you can remember what I, in my own stupidity, forgot, please do remind me. Thank you.

Remembered! Amn't I just amazing?

(Untitled) - Aelira's Story

Aelira is an ace student and quite popular at her school. She has the best parents a girl could wish for and the most amazing friends. Life is good.

Until Soot enters her life.

Soot, a minidragon, comes bearing the message she is the next dragon monarch. And she has to stop an eminent war between dragons and the other fay, with humans caught in the middle.

There was another story idea and I remember it, but its kinda sketchy. I don't have a real synopsis yet. I'll post it up later... Maybe

Soul Writing

2009-11-05T12:46:00.004-05:00

I'm a bad girl and kinda got sidetracked... Don't hate me! I do intend to keep this up, but I am busy. You have more time to read than I do to write, just remember that.

In my last post I talked about how art is an expression of the soul, our deepest beliefs and deepest feelings. My personal forms of expression are music, writing and dance. My favorite being writing - and probably the one I understand the best just because that is where my talents lie (or so I'm told, and I like writing the best).

To me there are three types of writings: fictional and non-fictional prose and poetry (composing music doesn't count and the lyrics for songs counts as poetry - in my view). I've written all three and the only one which I really enjoy is fictional writing (although for a few years I wrote poetry as well as fictional prose). But for that phase passed and I fell into fictional writing, something I have been in love with for four years. I have started five novels, but, through the quickly maturing years between 11 and 13 I realized that most of the novels were, well, childish. A few months before I turned 14, I started a novel writing course (OYAN Plug!) and soon discovered my voice so to speak. Not to say I'm a full matured writer - I doubt many authors could say they were - but I am much better than I was (ask my friends, they won't shut up about how much I've improved). With this newly found skill (and love) I started writing novels and short stories. Very ambitious of me, perhaps. Just to start writing novels, but I did so anyway and am currently working on my third novel (and no, none have been published - mainly for lack of trying). The more I write the more I come to a conclusion, one that coincides with my last post (see the To Be Continued... connection now?).

Writing is an exploration of yourself and your soul.

Yes, I just made a very controversial statement, I'm so proud of myself.

But, for me at least, it is a very true sentiment. The more I write, the better I understand myself. For any non-writers reading this, you may be wondering what in the world I am talking about. Allow me to explain.

As stated in my last post about art, I said that art is an expression of the soul, the things that make up you believe, love, hate, trust - your most inner self. A soul is what sets apart men from creatures and expression of self is what men do animals cannot (if you think about it, most of the differences between animals and men will boil down to some form of art). Art is a form of expression of the soul. Writing is an art. Therefore, the more you write the more of your soul you'll revel and the more of yourself you'll know.

With that definition out of the way, I shall continue.

The more I write - fiction and non-fiction, but mainly fiction - the better I understand myself and my beliefs. For while I'm writing sometimes I escape from myself - my mind stops thinking and my heart takes over. This is usually when I create my best work and when I write the things most true to myself.

But, you protest, I write fiction (mainly, I only write non-fiction for school and this blog) how in the world can I be expressed, not my characters? That, my friend, is the unconscious part - until you start thinking too much, like I do, then you write long, rambling blog posts about it which probably make no sense (I'm serious here, if this made no sense tell me!). No matter what kind of art you use to express yourself, you will be in it in some way. Some arts it is more obvious to see the artist behind the piece - non-fiction writing for example. The artist will praise what they think is correct and criticize what they think is wrong. It is really quite simple and almost no way for the artist to get around doing it.

So how do a writer do it? You'll just to wait until the next time I remember to post. I have a chapter I need to write (ugh, and homework to catch up on).

To Be Continued...

Soul in Art

2009-10-27T21:36:00.004-04:00

Webster's dictionary defines art as "the conscious use of skill and creative imagination especially in the production of aesthetic objects". Aesthetic is then defined as "responsive to or appreciative of what is pleasurable to the senses".

So what are the senses? Most five years old children can name their sense: hearing, feeling, smelling, seeing, tasting, represented, respectively, by the eyes, ears, nose, mouth and hands. So, then, art - according to Mr. Webster - is using skill and creativity to great objects pleasing to the eyes, ears, nose, mouth and hands - or some combination thereof.

So what things are pleasing to the senses? What is art?

To the eyes we have paintings, drawings, sketches, dancing, sculptures, buildings, exterior and interior design, cityscapes, landscapes, graffiti, movies, plays... The list goes on. People are well known to like what they see. Just look around. People trying to achieve beautiful appearance, cars, houses, clothes. Advertisements for 'finely crafted' anything and everything! Even washing machines! But there is always more.

To the ears we have music. Not much else. Also music is not prized for its appearance. Music is solely an art of the ears.

To the hands (and other feeling senses) we have rhythm (consider that for a minutes and you'll see that I'm right), fabric and textile crafts.

To the mouth and nose - two very forgotten arts - we have food. A much, much overlooked craft by many is the art of preparing and presenting food.

But what about the people who make these beauties? The musicians, the painters, the chefs, the designers? They make something for others to enjoy, but do they enjoy it?

Yes, for, unlike almost anything else in the world, art is not just a conscious effort it stems from the soul. The most important part of a human, the part which makes humans humans and not just another animal. Along with the numerous gifts God has given to humans, art is one of them. Animals don't have the ability, skills or desire to create something beautiful. Animals themselves may be considered beautiful, but they have no control over that.

Only humans have souls. Only humans have art.

To be continued...

Oh I feel all evil now... Okay I'm done.

Imaginary Friends (AKA Cassandriva - Part 2)

2009-10-13T18:07:00.014-04:00

Didn't know there would be more did you? I'm a girl of mysteries. I should post a picture of me looking mysterious. Scare everyone.

Anyway, after my post last week I thought more about childhood's imaginary friends. Why do children even have imaginary friends? Not all children have imaginary friends. My three siblings don't have them. But I always did. Still do to some extent. So what is it about the mind - usually a child's mind - which causes them to have imaginary friends?

But do only little children - and older children who wish they never left childhood - have imaginary friends. I want to know. So comment and let your true colors fly. Do you have imaginary friends?

I do, but I, so to speak, 'grew up' and became the characters inhabiting Cassandriva and its various facets (I'll eventually write about all the millions of ideas I have). They've grown beyond my mind and I've learned to make them come alive so people besides me can live with them and experience them.

Why?

At first I thought I was too 'grown up' for imaginary friends, but due to circumstances in my life I started to dwell more in my mind. Cassandriva really became alive to me although at the time I didn't know it. I fought the calling of the muse, I must say I did. But I had dreams, many dreams, but that's for another time. In the end I fell in love; irrevocably in love.

I'm fourteen years old - almost fifteen - and yes, I still have imaginary friends. Now, more than ever. They are a constant companion and comfort (even when they hate me with all their worth and trust me, they do!)

But that's just me, what about everyone else? And why do we have imaginary friends at all?

People who make up friends for themselves are generally deprived of the companionship they desire. Or at least that's my theory. I'm no neurologist by any stretch of the imagination, but why create a friend when you have real ones? It does make sense in logical terms.

In young children this behavior is accepted somewhat. Inventing an imaginary friends, no matter how base, takes imagination and adults love to see imagination in young children. But if an adult claims to be speaking to imaginary people, it is taken as delusional behavior and scorned. Why is this so looked down upon? Its just using the imagination to create something. Albeit, not something to share like using the imagination to create art, but still something.

Imagination is a lacking element of our culture. Of course there are stil imaginative people out there, but think about the various artistic industries. You've seen all the movies before, you've heard all the songs before and read all the books before. Even though momentarily you'll be nicely surprised some event in a book or movie eventually you'll realize that its all been done before. No one can do anything new anymore. Although that's not entirely because of the lack of imagination in our culture. The earth is just old and a lot of creative people have lived and preformed and written. There's no way around it.

But that doesn't delete the fact people just aren't as imaginative anymore. We'd rather turn on the TV or plug in a video game than sit down with a fictional book which takes a certain skill level and active use of the mind to entertain. Or even a non-fictional book.

Imaginary friends - in anyone - isa sign of imagination and creativity. Not something to be wondered at and rebuked.

Cassandriva

2009-10-06T14:57:00.002-04:00

So what is Cassandriva? And why would I name a blog 'Cassandriva'?

Let me tell you a story to explain:

I don't know how many young children have or had imaginary friends, but I had lots. I loved them all and named them all. Some were little girls like me, some were fairies or elves, some were older girls and some were even animals. As I got older I thought I outgrew them.

But I was wrong.

I found, as I grew older, my imaginary characters grew with me and became expressions of my emotions and allowed me to escape from the world I sometimes couldn't handle and release myself into a world of make believe. Do I sound a little romantic? Possibly. But how can I nay-say the childhood dreams which led me to my greatest discovery: Writing.

Writing, something which sounds so simple and easy to understand, but all the more complicated for that. So many people are taught to write through the school system that no one really knows how to write anymore. The state of affairs are beyond embarrassing.

But I strove, not just to write words, but to actually express myself. Show my true colors, let my emotions take me to far off places of adventure, love, fantasy, mystery, pain, forgiveness, redemption, revenge, hate, passion, guilt, salvation, innocence... In short, finding who I am, who I would be and why through the magic of the page.

And where did I do this? Cassandriva.

So come my friend, let me show you my world, let me show you what I see and why? Come to Cassandriva.

Cassandriva

I've moved!

Writer's Oath

The Disturbing Lack of Talking Animals

Seventy-Seven Rules to Life - Introduction and Rules 1-7

In case you are wondering

Day 27 - A song that you wish you could play & Day 28 - A song that makes you feel guilty & Day 29 - A song from your childhood

My Tale of Tales

Day 25 - A song that makes you laugh & Day 26 - A song that you can play on an instrument

Day 24 - A song that you want to play at your funeral

Day 23 - A song that you want to play at your wedding

Day 22 - A song that makes you sad

Day 21 - A song that you listen to when you’re happy

Day 20 - A song that you listen to when you’re angry

Day 19 - A song from your favorite album

Day 18 - A song that you wish you heard on the radio

Day 17 - A song that you hear often on the radio

Day 16 - A song that you used to love but now hate

Day 15 - A song that describes you

Day 14 - A song no one would expect you to love

Day 13 - A song that is a guilty pleasure

Liars and Friends

Day 12 - A song from a band you hate

Day 11 - A song from your favorite band

Day 10 - A song that makes you fall asleep

Day 09 - A song you can dance to

Day 08 - A song that you know all the words to

Day 07 - A song that reminds you of a certain event

I Challenge You...

Day 06 - A song that reminds of you of somewhere

Day 05 - A song that reminds you of someone

The Art of Science and the Science of Art: Obviously

Day 04 - A song that makes you sad

Day 03 - A song that makes you happy

Day 02 - Your least favorite song

Day 01 - Your favorite song

30 Day Music Challenge

The State of Schools

The Art of Science and the Science of Art: Defintions

I Am Forever Sorry

The Art of Science and the Science of Art: Introduction

Books People Should Read

I had an epiphany!

Names

*yawn*

The Dream That Does Not Contain Lizards

Zach's Letter

My Kind of Modesty

Raising Low Expectations

Journaling

I'm posting writing, be shocked.

Because I just LOVE controversy

Some Ruminations

Hated

God the Author and Us the Authors.

Compliments

Useless

Complaining Pity Party

If you hear no evil, speak no evil,and see no evil - you'll probably never write a best selling novel

New Story Ideas

Resurrection and Reawaking

Emotion

Emotional Connection

In Which I Praise Myself Unabashedly

In Defense of Twilight

Writer's block and what YOU can do about it!

Writer's Block Myth

Bad post, hiding from everyone

Story Ideas - For the Last Time!

Soul Writing

Soul in Art

Imaginary Friends (AKA Cassandriva - Part 2)

Cassandriva

yawn