Freak Thoughts

I just bought this new book, Half the Sky, by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn.  I saw an interview with the authors on Oprah, and it made me want to buy it (although unfortunately I’ve been so busy with school that I haven’t had much time to read it, and I probably won’t be able to finish it until after the semester is over.)  The authors are reporters who have traveled the world studying gender abuses and human rights violations, and they have interviewed girls from all continents who have experienced horrible things such as being kidnapped, drugged, and sold into brothels; women who have been killed for their dowrys; and girls who have been mutilated and disfigured.  The entire book is filled with these true stories.  It’s a good book for many reasons, and I think it is important for people to be aware of things like this that go on in the world.  But from a writerly standpoint, I think the book also contains a wealth of story ideas.  Every interview in the book is one person’s story, and fiction could be based on some of these true accounts.  I think there is always the question of whether it is wrong to make stories out of one person’s tragedy, and I really don’t think it is wrong, because I think that fiction helps us develop empathy for others, both in writing and reading it.  And stories about situations like this bring awareness of these issues as well as help the readers develop sympathy for those involved in a way that statistics and stories on the news cannot.  Of course, the writer would have to do a lot of research to get all the cultural and regional aspects correct, but I think any of the problems discussed in the book is possible material for a story.

There are also suggested ways of helping women around the world featured in the back of the book, such as organizations where you can donate money and exchange letters with the women you are helping.  This would also be a way to get writing on a regular basis and learn about other cultures and other ways of life, which I think is an important characteristic of any writer, broadening one’s point of view, or stepping into the other person’s shoes, so to speak.  And you get to do a good deed at the same time.

So, I decided I’m going to play Ok Computer to try to get in the mood of my story with its themes of isolation, technology gone mad, etc. Have any of you done this? How’d it work for you?

I re-read this novel over the long weekend, this is probably the fifth time I’ve read it in 18 months and each time I discover a new message. I hope one day my writing has this impact on others.

“Articulacy of fingers, the language of the deaf and dumb, signing on the body body longing. Who taught you to write in blood on my back? Who taught you to use your hands as branding irons? You have scored your name into my shoulders, referenced me with your mark. The pads of your fingers have become printing blocks, you tap a message onto my skin, tap meaning into my body. Your morse code interfered with my heart beat. I had a steady heart before I met you, I relied upon it, it had seen active service and grown strong. Now you alter its pace with your own rhythm, you play upon me, drumming me taut.

Written on the body is a secret code only visible in certain lights; the accumulations of a lifetime gather there. In places of the palimpsest is so heavily worked that the letters feel like braille. I like to keep my body rolled up away from prying eyes. Never unfold too much, tell the whole story. I didn’t know Louise would have reading hands. She has translated me into her own book.”

Put the Christmas tree together today – lovely fake tree that’s about a decade old I think. Scratched the hell out of my hands, but it was still fun because of the cats. Five out eight of them were playing with the tree and each other as I was putting it together. Tried to get some pictures, but they have a nack for looking away at the last second. I think the little devils do it on purpose!

Even though mom keeps telling me how tight Christmas will be this year, I’m sort of excited for it anyways and I haven’t been for a few years now. I’m not a huge fan of the stress everyone seems to get during it, plus my sister is wont to complain about her gifts. What ever happened to ‘it’s the thought that counts’? I miss Christmas when I was little when everyone was excited – excited to decorate, excited to give gifts, and excited for whatever we got, no matter how lame or stupid it was. I remember when I got an electrical toothbrush and was thrilled!

As I’ve said before, my mom’s a big one for decorating right after Thanksgiving. She’s always so excited for it, but twenty minutes in the hostilities seem to spark – twin venomous dragons, glittering of gold, red, and silver. They hiss and spit, coiling up, preparing to strike. Neither one does though, it’s just a standstill, a bunch of crude words. While I dislike negativity in all forms, I’ll admit that I have an odd fascination with watching it – waiting for all the glittering tinsel and ornamentation to fly, an array of colour bombarding wall and ceiling alike. The only thing missing would be the grand orchestra playing Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture, twelve minutes in when the cannons sound.

Hmm… Perhaps I could put this into some sort of first person Christmas story?

Haa, had to leave. Wrote the rest, back to finish it! By the way, to see a full sketch for Jack’s character, visit here. Another note: the Fürer is the guy who leads the militia. He’s an actual character. The woman, Julianne, is just a prop character I’m using.

The toe of Lieutenant Julianne’s shoe nudged a loose wire lying on the ground, and she froze. Though the thick, black wire had barely moved, she heard a distant clicking sound, and a similar wire was binding her ankles together before she realized it. She lifted her arms instinctively to keep her balance, but another wire shot out of the darkness and ensnared her left hand. Both wires pulled her up, so that she was held in air at an awkward curve that faced her to the ground.

She had been caught, and caught effectively.

Cursing in her mind the skirt that now bunched across her rear and exposed everything underneath, Lieutenant Julianne watched in silent fury as a young man jumped from a first story window in front of her. He looked to be around seventeen or nineteen, and wore a pair of beat up boots, pants, and a grungy tank top. His black hair, shoulder-length, thick, and curly, was tied up with a piece of string. Though he was clearly a street urchin and still young, the man had a stocky, muscular body and a calm air of cold composure.

He picked up Lieutenant Julianne’s purse without saying a word to the suspended woman, an deftly searched through it. She saw him push aside the military identification card, a compact mirror that she really kept a blow dart in, and a tube of her favorite lip gloss. As he found her wallet and removed the few bills inside, she noted how the young man moved in a precise and calculated way.

“A tactician,” she thought, thinking about the wire trap. From the new angle she could also see a coil of the thick, black wire attached to the belt loop on the back of his pants. It was clear that he was very practiced with it, but Lieutenant Julianne inhaled deeply to dissipate her anger and steady her nerves. “Well guess what, kid. I’ve been doing this job long enough that nothing can surprise me.”

The man placed the wallet back in the purse and dropped the bag near Lieutenant Julianne. He pocketed the bills and began to return to whatever hiding place he had been hidden in before. Lieutenant Julianne acted fast and took the opportunity his turned back had given her; she bent backwards, using her flexibility to the fullest in order to reach the back of her heels and to depress a button on the back of each one. As fast as she had been trapped, Lieutenant Julianne was behind the man with the heels held next to his throat. A curved blade protruded from each one; they were designed to hide in her shoes for situations just like this one.

“Disarm yourself,” Lieutenant Julianne commanded, voice with all the seriousness of a militia officer.

The young man silently unbuckled the coil of wire and let it fall. He raised his hands and then turned around, letting her give his sides a quick pat to check for other weapons. During this he watched her with focused blue eyes.

“Who are you?” she asked him.

He didn’t reply at first, as if he was considering what the possible outcomes were if he didn’t, then said, “Jack”.

“Do you know who I am?”

“A militia officer.”

So he had seen the I.D. card. Lieutenant Julianne lowered her blades but kept a wary eye on his movements.

“Want to be a militia soldier, Jack?”

He showed no sign of surprise or any other emotion to this question; his only reaction was a blink of the eyes.

“You have a nice set up here. I imagine that ever wire in this alley is connected where you can sit and watch for people like me,” she continued. “We could use your talents. You’d be paid well, have a room, warm food, a hot shower…and all you would have to do is to fight for us.”

“Who would I be fighting?”

“Crooks. Enemies to the Fürer. Oh, and certainly the mafia.”

Lieutenant Julianne was disappointed; the man’s expression showed no change at the mention of the mafia. Nothing got her blood moving more than a fight with a mafia member. Instead, Jack lowered his hands and turned away from her. She could see in the dim shadows of the alley numerous scars peeking from under his shirt, and could imagine several reasons for him living out here in the slums.

“If I were to ask ‘Can the militia give me a reason to live’, how would you answer?” he asked, voice low and devoid of any jest.

“I would answer, ‘Yes’,” Lieutenant Julianne replied immediately. That was why she was here in the first place. Her sole job in the militia was to find, recruit, and manage new soldiers. Over the years, she had seen some of the most broke street urchin or homeless ma become some of the best soldiers.

Jack turned around after a period of silence, and then said, “I’ll join.”

His eyes, as deep a blue as the depths of a lake, held a small, rippling reflection of a light that Lieutenant Julianne would dare to name “hope”.

The end~.

First, an explanation: There’s this website called MangaBullet [WHOO MB!] and there are clubs and these two clubs, MB_Mafia and MB_Militia, started a game in which you create characters and post art or stories about them or according to the challenges posted in order to earn points. These points then play a hand in you being able to kill off a character on the opposing side, blah blah SO YEAH. My character is on the Militia side and the first challenge is to depict your character joining the mafia/militia and why. Normally I’d draw it out but I’ve got other stuff to do so I wrote my entry instead. Moving on~!

The city streets were crowded like usual that day; the busy river of people flowed along the sidewalks in a steady fashion under the mild afternoon sun. A woman walked amongst the others with a purposeful gait. She wore a light and loose combination of a blouse and knee-length skirt, with a pair of pastel pink heels and a matching purse. Her wavy, blond hair, held back in a low ponytail with a large clip, reached past her shoulders, and her bangs were stylishly swept over the right of her face.

She suddenly veered off the sidewalk, leaving the bright and cheerful society to walk briskly down a dark and dirty alley. A rat scurried away from the thick points of her heels, but the woman didn’t flinch and continued towards the light at the end of the alley. She stepped back into the daylight, and paused to survey her surroundings.

This section of the city, though shaped much like the area she just left, somehow felt overcast and was filled with more shadows. Maybe it was due to the deteriorating condition of the buildings, or the run-down look of the few people that wandered about. The woman approached a pair of men, both wearing rough and ragged clothing. They looked as if they hadn’t shaved – or bathed – in a week or two.

“Well lookit! The recruiter’s here to visit!” exclaimed the scraggly man leaning against a pole.

“Good afternoon to you, Lieutenant Julianne,” said the other, a one-legged man perched atop a dumpster.

“Hello, boys,” the woman greeted them cordially. “Heard of some new arrivals here. Anyone worth mentioning?”

“Got a new kid who took up a spot in the alley down two blocks,” answered the man with one leg.

He scratched his messy beard with a warning look in his eye that prompted Lieutenant Julianne to ask, “Where in the alley?”

“The whole blasted thing. I’d watch yerself if I were you, Ms. Recruiter.”

Lieutenant Julianne raised a carefully trimmed eyebrow. The whole alley? Quite an achievement indeed for a kid. Alleys in this part of town were like real estate and a symbol of strength; the more you controlled, the stronger you were.

A smirk spread across Lieutenant Julianne’s pretty face, her green eyes flashing at the sound of a new prospect.

“Sounds like a soldier for the militia,” she said, and then turned to walk down the street.
________________________________

Lieutenant Julianne stood at the entrance of the alley, staring into the dark depths. It was a fairly long alley, and one that would have been a nice shortcut between two different sections of town if not for the new occupant. She started walking slowly into the alley, heels making a repetitious rhythm upon the gritty concrete. The alley was like most; it was filled with bins, dumpsters, and garbage. Above, various lengths of wire stretched across the two dilapidated buildings that made the alley, as well as from a couple of broken down balconies. It looked ordinary enough, was completely silent, and it appeared as if whoever lived here was not at home.

LOL TO BE CONTINUED.

I have a bunch of novel ideas that I don’t really know if they are good are not. My first one that I am going to post is a trilogy.
The setting is in an unnamed world that is all on one continent and separated into three kingdoms that are also unnamed with a massive unexplored forest land to the north that is filled with tons of monsters. The kingdom started very small to the south part of the central kingdom. In the beginning of the original kingdom, there wasn’t any magic yet and was completely agricultural type of lifestyle until a King had triplets. The king dies suddenly without naming an heir and the sons aren’t able to come up with an agreement and separate the kingdom into three parts that move outwards, one to the north, one east, and one west. During the great expansion, each of them stumble upon ruins left behind from the ancients, an unknown spiritual race of humans that worship The Light and have learned to work with the planet and create magic in the form of crystals. The rules with the magic is that whatever is used has to be repaid back into the earth with the used up crystal. With this new discovery, each of the kingdoms lifestyles grew more relaxed and the population was able to explode. Years later there is an enormous technological advancements along with heavy uses of magic crystals that people aren’t recycling back into the planet and the planet is slowly dying. That is the setting in the nutshell for the world.
Here the three main characters grow up in a small town, one of which moved from the city, therefor him being much more intelligent because the increase in education compared to the rural towns. When he moves to the small town, he bumps into the main character girl and she forces him to come along because he makes her run even more late. He meets the other guy and find out they are going to explore the forbidden forest. They bring some tools along to make maps and stuff to record what they find. They get ambushed by some wolf like things and find shelter in the ruins with the rural guy wounded. They find a strange new crystal with an inscription behind it and hold on to it as a keepsake. After they escape the forest, they all become closer because of what they experienced together.
Fast forward a couple of years, they choose to travel off to the country’s capital to join the Royal Guard (like the national police force) so they can still, for a lack of a better word, hang out together: the other choice being forced into apprenticeships. Upon entering the Royal Guard, they are separated into the different forces that make up the Royal Guard teams, the city kid is part of the magus force due to his incredible intellect and ability to retain the required inscriptions needed to unlock full potential of magic crystals, the girl is part of the medic squad due to her ability to focus life energy required to transfer from the earth to damaged body parts, and the rural guy part of the paladin force because of his sword skills and brute strength. The Royal Guard Academy is full of teenagers roughly in their late teens and acts a lot like a high school. Here their friendship diminishes because of peer pressure, pride, and other things.
Outside of the school, the king of the empire is using the Royal Guard as a cover to build an army that he is going to use to take over the other two kingdoms and is planning on controlling the world. Unknown to him, the chancellor from the Church of the Light is planning on usurping the thrown and getting rid of the technology and create a “purified” and more spiritual world.
Towards the end of the story, the first couple of year students are taking a final field test to graduate to the next rank, here the chancellor has an assassination force kill everyone except for the three main characters who work together to protect each other and live because of it. It ends with their faith in each other and their friendship restored, but storm clouds are quickly approaching.
The second book will start at a ceremony for the fallen students and the three main characters receive awards and acceptance into the Royal Guard. The king thinks that one of the other kingdoms sent the assassination force because they found out what he was planning. The city kid goes to the eastern kingdom and the rural guy goes to the western kingdom to investigate. The girl stays in the central kingdom to try to find anything from the field test area, but ends up getting attached to the church run by the chancellor. A year or two passes before they meet up again and the two guys become under suspicion of the church that the girl is so attached to. Due to religion and politics, they start to not trust each other and start to doubt motives. The Chancellor, in fear of getting caught, assassinates the king the same day that the chancellor is killed by the two guys when they realize what he is up to. When the girl realizes she was wrong, they reconcile, but with the kingdom having no successor to the throne, the other kingdoms prepare to fight over the right to rule it.
The third book starts with both kingdoms preparing for war. The three main characters take the royal guard to get as many civilians as possible and go south to try to avoid any casualties and end up discovering the ruins of the original kingdom and an undiscovered ruins that shows the reprecussions of using magic without paying back the energy and is why there are no records of any kingdoms before the original kingdom. They learn that the planet is starting to break and find inscriptions showing that the keepsake they obtained from the first book is the compass needed to find the heart. It points north so they plan to pass through the battlefields of the eastern and western kingdoms to the unknown area to the north. Here they find a secret small village of the only decendants of the ancients and find that the only way to save the world is to pay the energy back. They travel to the heart and realize that they have to sacrifice themselves in order to give enough back. When they reach the heart, their keepsake starts to glow and they realize that if they all focus hard enough they can use it to absorb all the remaining magic crystals from the world and use that to save it. They do this causing there to be no more magic and return to the battlefield with the ancients, the true rulers of the world, to rebuild the kingdom without the help from magic.
That is the basic synopsis of it and it could possibly change and there are a lot of things that are going to be expanded upon, but that is the general idea I am working with.

This humanitarian company//clothing line Jedidiah had a community section on their website earlier this year. Every month they would ask a question and people submitted stories and writings that answered the question. People could vote on the writing that they liked best, and then they would design a t-shirt off the winning submission, with the writing printed on the inside of the shirt. When they asked the question “What do you thirst for?” I decided that I was going to write a poem and submit it. My poem ended up being the top voted, and they made this t-shirt:

And I wanted to share my poem with you guys.

my thirst is quenched.

consumed with a seemingly unquenchable thirst.
it’s manifesting itself in my veins, plaguing my entire being.

i search for freedom from that which binds me.
freedom from: pain.
                      disappointment.
                      guilt.
                      loneliness.
                      failure.
overtaken by everything that hurts me.
move forward. push through it.
freedom awaits me.

desire hits. so powerful.
i desire to be: whole.
                     heard.
                     fought for.
                     recognized.
                     transformed.
longing creeps in and overtakes.
it floods my core and
i long to be: valued.
                  confident.
                  cared about.
                  understood.
                  alive.
i search to fulfill my yearnings.
rooted within me,
i yearn to be: worth it.
                     courageous.
                     content.
                     treasured.
to be able to satisfy the achings of my heart.
i am aching to be: accepted.
                           wanted.
                           significant.
                           a part of something more.
and i realize…
i am a part of something bigger than me.
i am not alone.
these thoughts, these feelings, these longings..
are not solely that of my own.
you have experienced these same thirsts.
we are on this road together.
we are bound together by an invisible strand.

we have the need for: forgiveness.
                                deliverance.
                                redemption.
                                restoration.
thirsts that can only be quenched by the lifeblood of Christ.
my thirst is quenched.

I love to read. I love to watch. I love to learn. I love to sense. I love to write.

It doesn’t get any simpler than that, right? Girl loves to write. Girl becomes writer. Cut to a scene of joyful frolicking with some 80’s song blaring about fulfilling one’s dreams and The End.

Oh wait, this is reality.

I’m sure many of my peers are familiar with this struggle. Defining one’s purpose in life, finding a niche, and so forth. And as I’ve been told since starting college, one can easily switch from one major to the next, to the next, to the next and…back to the first “next”. Still, I’ve been faithful to Mr. English Major (though I haven’t declared him my husband…we just live together and stuck in a five year engagement ;D ), much to a certain maternal unit’s disdain.

What I find odd about this typical arguement I have with my mother, is that she is aware of my love of writing, and dare I say, my gift to write, yet she is constantly dropping hints that she wants me to pursue Doctor McRich or Mr. Moneybags, Ace Attorney at Law. Yes, I admit, I do have the mental capacity to learn the ways of the scapel, and the art of ly-I mean-defending American freedoms. But there’s a slight issue with these arranged marriages, per se. I don’t love them. Call me lazy or slightly askew mentally, but I don’t admire the stresses of a doctor or a lawyer. Plus, both jobs may lure me with green foliage, but that’s hardly visible due to the looming towers of College Debt and Bankruptcy. No thank you, sirs, please don’t smash your fingers on the Exit’s door. Of course, my mother is a vigilant woman, but I have some of her traits: namely, a big, bad Great Dane named “Stubborn”.

Writing is my Fountain of Youth. I’m able to retain my wit through constant learning and constant writing. I love it. This is my purpose. I respect my mother’s clucking. Writing doesn’t rack in the dough, unless if my literary works succeed. I know it’s odd, but I love that challenge. I can’t see this challenge when I’m in a white coat (it’s not even a strait-jacket…) or have enough energy to pursue it head on with  humongous briefcases the size of Texas chained to my wrists. No, I will stay a writer.

That is all, for now.

I was a bad student in middle school for a number of reasons, but mostly due to the school and the teaching methods. When I was ten my teacher told me if a couple kids out of about 18 didn’t fail his tests, his tests weren’t hard enough. He basically meant that me and a few others specific kids had to fail his tests to make him feel good. He would also lump all the “bad” students together and keep them away from the good students.  But that’s not important to what I have to say…

I didn’t learn a lot I was supposed to in middle school. No one including my teachers thought I would amount to anything. No matter how hard I tried it just wasn’t good enough. When I went to high school, a completely different school, I earned 4 A’s and 4 B’s on my report card the first semester, and when my mom went to tell the old school how well I was doing, the PRINCIPAL told my mom to not expect me to keep it up. The first semester was only review of what they had already taught me. I proved them wrong. I was on the honor role my entire 4 years of high school. It made me so happy to be able to say, “look at me! Look how awesome I am doing!”

Until recently my middle school problems never came back to haunt me. Don’t get me wrong, I have never been a good speller, but my problems this year I fear are going to keep me from getting the “A” I have worked so hard for. I wish there was a time machine I could jump into and give my 10-11 year old self a good talking to, that though this school was horrible, I still needed to work hard to understand everything. Then I thought more reasonably, oh I’ll just take a class to help me with my problem in a certain subject. It won’t help me graduate, but it will help me better myself. Then I found out that, that one particular class is only offered at the same time another class I’m required to take is. I’m screwed. I am out of time. Maybe I can buy”________ for Dummies” after I graduate, when I have time to study it, but it won’t help me now.

I guess all I can do is do my best and hope that it’s good enough to get my A.