Life vs. Death

Image credit to Jesschadlys (x).

There's a trend I've noticed building over the past few years.

I don't know what it started with, but I thought that - like all other trends - it would fade away quietly.

I don't think it will.

Here's the trend: death.

I mean, I understand that people die.

Acceptance of the fact is good.

Glorification of it is not.

What is with all this glorification of death, anyway? I can't walk into a clothing store without seeing skulls on shirts, undershirts, pants, leggings, accessories, basically everything. And it's not those 'cutesty' skulls: these are freaky, grinning skeletal fragments.

That really, really unnerves me.

And that's not all.

There's a growing literary fascination with vampires, werewolves, zombies, demons, and other undead creatures.

Don't get me wrong here: I'm reading Dracula. I've seen the black and white Dracula. For the record, I don't think there's anything wrong with Dracula.

The Twilight series is another story, and not just because I'm slightly a literature snob and I think - and have heard from reliable sources, namely college professors, peers, and Tumblr - that it's shoddily written and crafted.

That's my opinion. Sorry, not sorry.

I think you're completely entitled to yours.

And please understand, I'm not pointing the finger at anyone. If I am, I'm pointing it right back at me, examining what I'm filling my own mind with.

The difference for me, though, between Dracula and Twilight, for example, is the portrayal of evil and death.

In Dracula, it's clear who is evil and who is good.

Evil comes to kill and destroy.

Good stands in the path, seeking to save and redeem.

In Twilight?

Not so much.

Everything is blurred: oh, well, he drinks blood, and he really wants to drink mine, but he'll go and drink animal blood since he doesn't want to kill me. Awh, I think I'll marry this guy, since he's totally stable and trustworthy.

Or should I marry this other guy who's a wolf and has an amazing six-pack (c'mon, we all know that's most the reason most people saw the movie)?

. . . Yeah . . . Stellar choices.

As far as I know - and please do correct me if I'm mistaken - there is no clear cut model of good in the Twilight series.

There are plenty of evil models, but the evil tendencies are airbrushed over by a six-pack.

Believe me, I've heard the arguments made for Twilight:

"Oh, it teaches abstinence!"

Not really.

Bella and Edward aren't abstinent because they choose to be per se, but because he doesn't want to kill her.

Not really admirable.

I'll be honest when I say that I almost got into Twilight. But something nudged me and said "Hey, why don't you get a second opinion on that?"

I'm so, so glad I did.

And I think it's really the whole Twilight phenomenon that awakened me to the battle that's going on not only for young girls' souls, but also for their hearts and minds.

Yeah, there was Harry Potter mania when I was like, I dunno, seven, but I didn't care to read a 3-inch thick book at that time.

This is different.

And much more dangerous.

Not only are we getting this generation desensitized to death, but also disdainful of life.

Dead and undying creatures are glorified, made popular.

TV shows and movies about those who deal directly with demons are hits.

More and more teens and young adults don't take their lives - or the lives of others - seriously.

And the thing is . . . I don't think it's going to get better.

Not unless we can show them that there is more to life than death.

So much more.

NaNoWriMo

NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow and I am sooooooooooooooooooooo excited!!!

Last year, I fell epicly short of 50,000 words by about 47,500 words.

Yeah . . .

But this year I have new hope!

No, not Star Wars I/IV. 

Hope that I'll get ahead in my school work and crank out a 50,000+ word novel!

Things I will (eventually) Re-create . . .

I've decided to make a list of all the things that I will eventually rewrite and gift to the world . . .
. . . for a small fee . . .
(By the way, this list is actually more for my benefit than yours, simply because I may 1. forget, 2. become distracted, and / or any combination of the two. But if you like what you see, shoot me an electronic smoke signal if there's something you really want in the story. Who knows? Might just end up there.)

- Romeo and Juliet
- Beauty and the Beast
- Lady and the Tramp
- Snow White and the Seven Dwarves
- Sleeping Beauty
- The Little Mermaid
- (a twist on) Peter Pan
and, of course, my personal pet:
- Phantom of the Opera

(Do I have an obsession with Disney? . . . Nope.)

My Valentine's Day . . . Thing

I'm calling this "From Paris, with Love"
(Yes, I have an obsession with 'Romeo and Juliet'. And no, Romeo is not the ultimate guy. That other guy is. And if you want to see the Paris I'm talking about, watch the 1936 version of "Romeo and Juliet". Much less awkward than the newer ones.)

The Capulet Mausoleum.
Near mid-night.

His footsteps were of an unsteady tempo, but they matched the beat that made sore his ribs, that throbbed in his skull. The darkness of the moonless night was compounded by his moist blindness. He fell, tasted blood, spat behind him.
His pain, his frenzy, the blood: they all reminded him he was alive.
He didn't desire to be alive.
He desired Juliet, the innocent, glowing flower he'd danced with at the masquerade.
And Juliet lie dead, just beyond the cold, stone door before him.
He held the torch before him, the flame bouncing wildly, and - as he heaved the door open - it cast unnatural shadows within the crypt.
The flame was reflected by the silk that his bride had been cocooned in.
His fingers numbed and he heard the torch fall.
He collapsed at her side, gathering her into his arms.
"Juliet . . ."
His tears splattered on the girl's face. It looked as if they were her own.
"If I could give my life for thine, I would fain commence the exchange," he whispered, stroking her hair.
He imagined a waking sigh, and buried his face in her chocolate locks, drinking in the scent of lavender and vanilla.
"I know I had not your love. I know the young Montague has stolen your heart."
He forced down the bile that choked him, his face stinging with passion.
"But . . . if your heart desired him . . . I would . . . gladly . . . yielded."
A small void cooled his cheek. His numb hand registered movement within her, and he watched - stupefied - as Juliet's eyelids opened, revealing crystalline azure eyes.

. . . TO BE CONTINUED.

Old School Disney Princesses

So, my mom and I are watching Sleeping Beauty.
Well, I'm watching it; she's napping.
But I was just thinking . . . there's got to be more to the story (stories, really) than Mr. Disney and his peeps are tellin' us.
So!
To rectify this situation, I have decided to rewrite my favorite princess stories.
And -- to be perfectly honest -- if you would die if the story was 'ruined' for you . . . ya probably ought not read what I'm going to write . . .

ZoMbIeS.

Yep.
Zombies. 
I usually don't go for the whole "zombie-apocalypse-caused-by-expired-milk" thing, but I started a story about a zombie in Fiction a few days ago.
Three different people told me - no, commanded me to finish it, so I will.
I'm also writing a short scene about a "freaky cat lady", but whether that will develop into something more, I don't know.
She is pretty funny though . . .
So, yes, I am perfectly aware this post is short, but to lengthen it, I'm going to tell you to do the following:

READ "THE BIRDS" BY DAPHNE DU MAURIER.
IT IS SO AWESOME.

That is all.

RIP Bucky . . . the Furry Mūs

So today in fiction class, Zack had us write three into sentences to this plot:

"A girl about 11-12 years old finds an injured squirrel and cares for it for a year, until her parents decide it's too dangerous to be kept in the house. They make her get rid of it. She takes it to the park where she often took it to play. She watched it scamper off, but left before it came back."

Oh. My. Gosh.
I says, "That's sad; I don't wanna write about that." But - as this epic author often states - "I said it in my head, so nobody heard it but me". I wrote the three he asked for and then - y'all are gonna hate me  for this - but I um, well . . . I sort of killed it. I implied it was probably dead. Squashed. In the road. Uh, yeah.

However!
In "Development of the English Language", we read words in Old English.
Now THAT was fun!
And no, Old English is not Shakespeare. He may be difficult for you to understand, but he actually wrote in Modern English. Modern as in "what we speak now". Yep.

THIS is Old English.

And that is "Beowulf". Epic. Story. You must read it before you die. You must.
(For those who are unaware.)
[Also, mūs up there is Old English for um, well, mouse. It's pretty neat, actually.]

My Fantastic(al) Christmas List

After much deliberation, I have finally settled on what I want for Christmas.
It's really not that big of a list.
I want . . .
. . . an ELF.
Either one (or both!) of these would be perfectly acceptable:

However, one of these will be promptly returned / exchanged / exiled:

Please and thank you.

(^-^)

Essay Entitled "Cheese"

Author's Note: the following is not intended to be taken literally, seriously, etc. Any of those who take this literally, seriously, etc. will deserve any embarrassment that follows from taking this post literally, seriously, etc.

Cheese. 
Cheese - which, by all counts originated on the Moon - comes in five common variations: stinky, slimy, melty, tasty, and rubbish. These variations often intersect in curious ways; for example, tofu. Not only is tofu stinky, slimy (if expired which is nearly impossible as will be stated below), and rubbish, it also falls under a sixth rather common category: it's old. Not aged. Old. No offense to you tofu eaters out there, but I prefer not to eat something with a shelf life of 3,718 years, 23 days, and 46 minutes. Nope.
The usefulness of cheese is also much debated in our day. In a study conducted by Pratt and Tooley, the most common (historical) use of cheese was not for culinary purposes. It was for mousetraps. If one were to intensely research the agricultural history of Ancient Egypt, one would find (two or more would find the same, just quicker) that mouse / rat infestations were prevalent. 
"They did have cats, you know," you say. This is true and false; allow me to explain. They had felines, but the social role of the cat was drastically different than it is today.
> LEGIT FACTOID WARNING! <
The goddess Bastet was thought to take the form of a cat. As such, it was illegal to kill a cat (presumably for two reasons: 1) you couldn't know if Bastet was the cat you're killing and 2) Bastet clearly liked cats. Either way it probably wasn't a good idea to get Bastet angry because 1) she's female, 2) she's a goddess, and 3) she controls cats. Nuff said.)
> END OF FACTOID. <
In light of this, the Ancient Egyptians decided to invent a mouse-catching machine so that the cats could do whatever cats do when they're not catching mice . . . Sleep, I guess. Hence the most popular use of cheese was born!


Thanks to Caroline for the suggestion of this topic, "cheese". You can read her blog here.

Essay Entitled "Cake"

Author's Note: the following is not intended to be taken literally, seriously, etc. Any of those who take this literally, seriously, etc. will deserve any embarrassment that follows from taking this post literally, seriously, etc.

Cake.

Fascinating subject, isn't it? So many varieties, shapes, and colors that have no bearing on the flavor whatsoever so when you think you're taking a giant piece of White cake it's really Coconut cake you've got on that shiny red Chinet plate you're carrying to the table that you're going to run away from in desperate search of the bathroom when you realize your fatal error!
(No offense intended to y'all out there that like Coconut, but everyone who doesn't like it totally understands.)
Cake was invented in the Year 1, when Adam and Eve celebrated their first anniversary.
Well, it was also the first anniversary ever, so I hope the cake was nice.
But, according to recent research done by Tu Retts Inc., the cake is a lie.
Yup.
That prettiful thing your momma made on all of your birthdays, even after you moved out?
LIES.
Not that mothers would lie. They've been taken in, too.
Why is it a lie?
That . . . has yet to be determined, but most likely the research methods will be able to facilitate the appropriate experiments roughly around the same time Halo makes it to the Silver Screen. So, um, yeah, don't hold your breath.

(By the way, Caroline came up with the word "prettiful"; you can read her blog here.)

Book Preview! Part III

Aaaaaaaaaaand the third one!


This is from "Ruminations", slightly inspired by the track of the same name from . . . um, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. Uh, yeah . . . You can listen to it here . . . to make it less . . . erm . . . awkward.

As a young nun, Marya had been pious as a saint, quiet to a fault, and earnest in her duties. But then, during a mission of charity, she fell. Hers was not the sudden, obliterating demise made popular by cheap novellas. Her fall was an unbroken – though, at times, hesitant – descent from her once lofty standards.

A young parson, not even a year her senior, had been assisting the physicians with orphans who had contracted serious infections. His gentle kindness to the children others deemed worthless endeared him to her immediately. They did the Lord’s work side by side, sharing His peace and mercy with those suffering. He lauded and encouraged Marya from time to time, but she – raised with nigh a man in sight – found herself unable – or unwilling? – to reciprocate. 

Here's the link!

Book Preview! Part II

Time for the second sample!


This one is from "Infiltration", kind of a sci-fi thing. I definitely had the most fun writing this one.

Harpé felt herself separate from the transport chip. It was exhilarating. She was free to roam, free to explore. Binary information began to bombard her the moment of severance, and she absorbed it instantly, reveling as her knowledge expanded. The stream of raw information slowed and she began to sort and process it while appropriating controls to the systems Dante had outlined before the mission commenced.

            Security and surveillance systems: bugged – affirmative.

Motion and thermal sensors: bugged – affirmative.

            Life support: affirmative.

Chemical balance control systems: affirmative.

Temperature controls.

Harpé paused. That wasn’t on the list, but she knew Dante didn’t like to leave a job smelling sweaty, so she grudgingly appropriated it.

Temperature controls: unnecessary . . . but affirmative.

Harpé allowed herself a mental chuckle, but sobered quickly. This is too – 

Here's the link!

Book Preview! Part I

So I've decided to post three different excerpts of my book, "The Trio: A Collection of Completely Unrelated Short Stories". (I'm all for honesty; can you tell?)


As the title states, there's only three stories in the book. It was sort of a tester-type thing-y.


Here's a (selected) excerpt from the first one, "Wasted, Redeemed". It's pretty much the plot summary; a friend who read this asked if I found a poem, cut it up and wrote around it! (I didn't, by the way. =])

An hour – wasted.

A mind – wasted.

A soul – wasted.

A lifetime – wasted.

A love – wasted.

A life – redeemed.  

(I know this is a very short sample, but it's because it's a very short story.)

Here's the link!

Wasted . . . Redeemed

A little something I wrote for a fiction class last week:

She stared at the empty hourglass, asking herself when the bits of sand had joined the others at the bottom. Her eyes ceased to focus on the device and she lost herself in reflection.

One hour – wasted.

One hour was the least of things she had allowed to slip through her malcontented fingers. She had been given a chance for an excellent education in any field of expertise she chose. She had declined it, much less than gracefully.

A mind – wasted.

Finding herself destitute after nigh a year, she had thrown herself at the richest man she could find. For a year, she was his mistress, paid a king’s ransom for her charms. But despite the riches and ‘quirks’ that came with her position, she felt perpetually filthy, eternally tainted.

A soul – wasted.

After her initial rise to the status of near celebrity, the inevitable happened, as she knew it would: she was cast out . . . and replaced. Marred and jaded, she was passed from man to man, her wealth and health deteriorating and fragmenting along the way.

A lifetime – wasted.

But then, she saw him.

William had won her body through gambling – the only time he’d ever gambled – but he never really won her heart. She knew he’d loved her selflessly: he’d even married her to extend legal and social protection to her, besmirching his own good name in the process. He’d known her past and the kind of attention she was used to from men, but he never expected it, not even after the marriage. He had loved her unconditionally for seven years . . . and never asked for anything in return.

Every night, she’d ask him why he had bought her – for essentially he had: she was his legally – and every night she’d receive the same response.

“Everyone deserves to be loved,” he’d tell her just before kissing her gently.

He had died a slow and agonizing death, his life’s blood slowly escaping its proper place in his veins from a tragically misplaced bullet lodged near his heart. As he lay dying, she felt her own heart shatter as he uttered his last words.

“Never forget that I love you.”

In the exposed moment of her life, she had even told him a truth she’d hidden away, a truth she didn’t want to admit even to herself: she loved him. Not the fickle, conditional lust and desire she had felt for every other man in her wretched life, but a pure, unadulterated love. He had laughed with his eyes; his breath had long ago become filled with blood.

“I know.”

He had died without the fanfare she knew his spirit deserved, his gentle loving-kindness unknown to the masses.

A love – wasted.

Now, in her own last moments fifty-six years later, she sat in the garden he had built for her, staring at his hourglass. Slowly, she stood and turned it over, a new hour flowing through the narrow crevice in the middle. Golden rays from the rising sun filled the garden, and she could see William standing before her, his hand held out in welcome. As darkness overtook her senses, she felt herself melt into his warm, tender embrace.

A life – redeemed.