Saturday, March 16, 2013
Monday, December 10, 2012
NaNoWriMo...Not So Much
As you can see from the title above, I have begun NaNoWriMo.
Which is essentially, writing a book composed of 50 000 words or more...in a month. I started today, which is technically violating the rules but I say rubbish. As long as I finish by the end of December, it shouldn't matter. Because I have no people who look on here anyway, I'll post a bit of it here.
Which is essentially, writing a book composed of 50 000 words or more...in a month. I started today, which is technically violating the rules but I say rubbish. As long as I finish by the end of December, it shouldn't matter. Because I have no people who look on here anyway, I'll post a bit of it here.
Casper sneered as he lit his cigarette.
Titania ignored him as she brushed her sun kissed hair,
methodically and mechanically. Casper had noticed that the act of brushing her
hair was something that always happened after making love. He still lay in the
rumpled bed, without any clothes, while the queen had never taken hers off. She
never did, as if she was still better than him.
He took in her form for a second, her slender and beautiful
body, hidden underneath her nightgown. Her long dark blond hair spilled down
her back with streaks of chestnut and pure white with the honey coloured
strands. Her hands were small, her face angular and her eyes a commanding
silvery grey. She was beautiful in a way only the Tuatha Dé Danann could be.
“Stop pouting, Casper. It’s not becoming of a man of your
status.” Titania said as she set the brush down as her stormy grey eyes flicked
towards his.
He let out a laugh, something akin to a short barking sound.
“My queen, I have no status. I’m your human subjugate, in your mind and in
everyone else’s.”
She picked up the brush once more, her dainty hands gripping
it so much so that her knuckles turned white. Her hair needed no more
attention, but it kept her hands and mind busy enough. “Enough,” She snapped. “You
are my hunter, my knight, and despite what everyone else at the court thinks,
you do have status.”
Casper stood up and threw his cigarette into the ashtray. He
yanked his pants on, the black pair of jeans that were his favourite, and moved
to her. His hazel eyes burned with emerald green and warm brown and his own long
fingers had curled together.
He kissed her, his lips tasting like regret and a burning
pain that Titania would never understand, and he pulled back. Her chin was set
primly, her hands folded together neatly, and he sighed. She would never
forfeit this argument.
“You still have to go to Ontario and execute Haelm; he’s
caused too much trouble already. You’re the only one I trust.”
He ran a hand through his reddish brown hair. She had played
her last and most important card, the trust one. He knew the way of the courts,
how conniving and malicious some of her subjects could be. The fact that she
trusted him, at all, was amazing in itself.
He gathered up his things to leave, throwing on his black
t-shirt and leather jacket. His pair of leather gloves and strapping on his
arming sword came last, simple things that he had become used to adorning. He
turned to leave, his hand resting on the knob of the door.
“Wait, Casper.”
He turned around and his heart thudded painfully. The
expression on her face made his head hurt, his heart hurt.
“I do love you, you know that?”
He nodded and then left.
It's a modest start to a modest story. It only took me ten days to come up with the idea for it. Casper is a sidhe hunter by the way...and Titania's man whore. Or concubine, if you prefer to be all proper about it. But man whore pretty much describes him, because she's not the only one he sleeps with.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Irish Luck
I haven't updated in quite a while.
I blame the homework and teachers and friends, but in reality I was procrastinating. It seems to be something I'm good at.
I've settled into my school routine now. Wake up later than I anticipated, rush through my morning routine, hastily put my Element shoes which are indeed breaking (I'm thinking of just buying some new cowboy boots and that'll be the end of it) and run to catch the bus. My brother, who doesn't wake up himself, hasn't helped either.
Classes are...interesting to say the least. My mother had every single one of my teachers when she was in high school. No, they're not that old. She's just that young. So my teachers have a tendency to call on me, suspecting I'm like my mother. I'm not. She was prim and proper, and studious and sporty. I'm loud, sarcastic, studious in a lazy way and completely and utterly not athletic.
So my mother wasn't surprised when my midterm report came in, announcing in fine bold print that I had a 65 in gym. I've told my gym teacher (who, incidentally was my mother's favourite teacher) on numerous occasions that if he thinks he's going to get me to run six laps around the gym and then do suicides, then he's nuts.
I've also been sent to the office on numerous occasions.
It's also been a battle between me and my mother. She wants me to go to church. Now, I'm not religious, but I don't right out tell her she'd stupid for believing in God. I just don't. People can believe whatever they want to believe. They could even believe in flying purple cats for all I care. Just don't expect me to.
My friends have begun to remark how different we are from each other.
But on the bright side, I have a whole weekend to myself. My mother is working shift work, my brother and dad are off in Vermont at a hockey tournament.
Don't get me wrong, I like hockey. But my dad pays me five dollars to go to my little brother's games. Literally. He started getting me to come to his games when I walked in during a game in which they were losing, and then they scored five goals after I stayed.
It's all the Irish luck, I tell you.
I must be a leprechaun or something.
Not really.
But that would be cool.
I blame the homework and teachers and friends, but in reality I was procrastinating. It seems to be something I'm good at.
I've settled into my school routine now. Wake up later than I anticipated, rush through my morning routine, hastily put my Element shoes which are indeed breaking (I'm thinking of just buying some new cowboy boots and that'll be the end of it) and run to catch the bus. My brother, who doesn't wake up himself, hasn't helped either.
Classes are...interesting to say the least. My mother had every single one of my teachers when she was in high school. No, they're not that old. She's just that young. So my teachers have a tendency to call on me, suspecting I'm like my mother. I'm not. She was prim and proper, and studious and sporty. I'm loud, sarcastic, studious in a lazy way and completely and utterly not athletic.
So my mother wasn't surprised when my midterm report came in, announcing in fine bold print that I had a 65 in gym. I've told my gym teacher (who, incidentally was my mother's favourite teacher) on numerous occasions that if he thinks he's going to get me to run six laps around the gym and then do suicides, then he's nuts.
I've also been sent to the office on numerous occasions.
It's also been a battle between me and my mother. She wants me to go to church. Now, I'm not religious, but I don't right out tell her she'd stupid for believing in God. I just don't. People can believe whatever they want to believe. They could even believe in flying purple cats for all I care. Just don't expect me to.
My friends have begun to remark how different we are from each other.
But on the bright side, I have a whole weekend to myself. My mother is working shift work, my brother and dad are off in Vermont at a hockey tournament.
Don't get me wrong, I like hockey. But my dad pays me five dollars to go to my little brother's games. Literally. He started getting me to come to his games when I walked in during a game in which they were losing, and then they scored five goals after I stayed.
It's all the Irish luck, I tell you.
I must be a leprechaun or something.
Not really.
But that would be cool.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Officially A Redneck
Since the new Sims 3 game came out today, begging my mother for money has become a hobby.
So I've had the new hobby for about eight hours.
Then again, I'm one of those people who won't let other people lend them very much money. I currently have thirty dollars so I'm asking her for maybe fifteen dollars. Anyway, the whole issue is that I am excited for the new expansion pack.
Which came out on the first day of school.
Ah, the ever present topic of school.
On the shiny side of the coin, my teachers were all exceptionally interesting. I had one, a Geography teacher that completely kept my attention the whole lesson. A really hard thing to do, considering most of the teachers I've ever had tried to talk to me like I was a complete idiot. Which, naturally, I was having none of.
Just because I answer a question with an answer none of my classmates understand doesn't mean I'm a genius either.
It just means I studied.
I take school very seriously, which is quite odd for a kid my age. I've always been told I was mature for my age. But I prefer to think that it's because I looked at everything from a different vantage point than my peers. I'm not one for keeping with trends.
Hell, I'm still wearing jean jackets.
And cowboy boots.
And a cowboy hat.
I'm officially a redneck.
So I've had the new hobby for about eight hours.
Then again, I'm one of those people who won't let other people lend them very much money. I currently have thirty dollars so I'm asking her for maybe fifteen dollars. Anyway, the whole issue is that I am excited for the new expansion pack.
Which came out on the first day of school.
Ah, the ever present topic of school.
On the shiny side of the coin, my teachers were all exceptionally interesting. I had one, a Geography teacher that completely kept my attention the whole lesson. A really hard thing to do, considering most of the teachers I've ever had tried to talk to me like I was a complete idiot. Which, naturally, I was having none of.
Just because I answer a question with an answer none of my classmates understand doesn't mean I'm a genius either.
It just means I studied.
I take school very seriously, which is quite odd for a kid my age. I've always been told I was mature for my age. But I prefer to think that it's because I looked at everything from a different vantage point than my peers. I'm not one for keeping with trends.
Hell, I'm still wearing jean jackets.
And cowboy boots.
And a cowboy hat.
I'm officially a redneck.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Writer's Block
I've recently come to terms with the fact that school will be starting up again the day after next.
I've also come to terms with the fact that I have writer's block.
Though, I suppose that isn't the most accurate thing to call it. I have all of the ideas screaming at me from inside of my head but when I go to begin to let the words flow from the pen, nothing comes out. I have no idea how to begin some of them, yet know the endings perfectly in my head.
And the part that makes it harder to concentrate at least writing the ideas down, is that I've already begun an idea and am currently thirty some pages into it. The handwritten kind. I seem to like writing by hand more than typing away on my laptop, which is infinitely easier but less satisfying.
So, I've been working on fanfiction.
I know, I know, how verynormal cliché for a teen of my age.
But if I have all of these ideas about something that has just spawned off someone else's original idea, I'm going to jump on the chance of having any ideas at all and being able to write them. Anything to let me write every day.
What am I writing about exactly?
Harvest Moon.
I am not ashamed to say that I play the game. It seems I like farming in video games but not in real life when the darn farmers are using up land that could otherwise be used for my enjoyment. (Namely a forest in which I can get muddy in.)
I am also not ashamed to say that I am also writing fanfiction about My Candy Love. (All right, maybe a little.) Insert forever alone meme here.
I'm surprised I remembered what a meme was.
No, not really.
I need to get out more.
I've also come to terms with the fact that I have writer's block.
Though, I suppose that isn't the most accurate thing to call it. I have all of the ideas screaming at me from inside of my head but when I go to begin to let the words flow from the pen, nothing comes out. I have no idea how to begin some of them, yet know the endings perfectly in my head.
And the part that makes it harder to concentrate at least writing the ideas down, is that I've already begun an idea and am currently thirty some pages into it. The handwritten kind. I seem to like writing by hand more than typing away on my laptop, which is infinitely easier but less satisfying.
So, I've been working on fanfiction.
I know, I know, how very
But if I have all of these ideas about something that has just spawned off someone else's original idea, I'm going to jump on the chance of having any ideas at all and being able to write them. Anything to let me write every day.
What am I writing about exactly?
Harvest Moon.
I am not ashamed to say that I play the game. It seems I like farming in video games but not in real life when the darn farmers are using up land that could otherwise be used for my enjoyment. (Namely a forest in which I can get muddy in.)
I am also not ashamed to say that I am also writing fanfiction about My Candy Love. (All right, maybe a little.) Insert forever alone meme here.
I'm surprised I remembered what a meme was.
No, not really.
I need to get out more.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Excuse Me While I Bang My Head Against A Wall
I am honestly considering taping a sign on my head. One that reads:
NO MATTER HOW FUNNY I LOOK, I'M NOT DUMB.
I mean, honestly people.
Now, this whole predicament began yesterday, during which I went shopping. Shopping in itself is an appalling concept for me. I've never really understood the pull women feel towards running around in a mall filled with other people and buying things that really only look good in the store. As long as it fits and doesn't make me look fatter than I already am, I'll take it and leave as fast as my legs will carry me.
But when shopping with my mother (my only source of money at the current time) everything becomes some blown up, dragged out, horrific situation. The thing with my mother is, she thinks that whatever looks good on her will look good on me.
Hahaha.
I don't think so.
She tried to get me to try on this pair of skinny jeans. I wouldn't normally have a problem with this, even though I naturally garb my chubby legs in loose fitting capris and jean shorts. Trying new things is good, right?
The pair she picked were neon green.
Neon. Green.
Please refer to the sign at the beginning of this post. Seriously, I'm really not.
The second incident was early today. My brother decided to sic the dog on my face at eight a.m. so I could make him hash browns. My dog is a lovely little pit bull with an equally lovely disposition. She has one teeny tiny little character flaw however. She likes to lick. Not just those cute little laps, but like full face wash with smelly breath.
After being rudely woken up like that, I made my dang brother his dang hash browns.
My brother's friend spent the night, which I have no problem with. But while they were munching away on my tireless fruits of labour, he asked me a question. A silly question really.
He asked me if I would go into the farmer's field across the road to shoot some chickens with a Nerf gun.
I ask him to repeat the question, certain I hadn't heard correctly. So he repeated it and I stood there, not making a sound and hoping he would forget the whole thing. The farmer across the road already isn't fond of me since I might have made a tiny little maze in his cornfield. All in the name of Hallowe'en.
Anyway, the kid asked the question a few more times after that. I ignored him all the while. But when he finally got fed up with my silence, he then proceeded to say it slowly. He asked me like I was some sort of slow brained child.
Made my day I tell you.
Just effing made my day.
I am seriously thinking about making that sign. Possibly laminating it so people really get the message.
Excuse me while I bang my head against a wall.
NO MATTER HOW FUNNY I LOOK, I'M NOT DUMB.
I mean, honestly people.
Now, this whole predicament began yesterday, during which I went shopping. Shopping in itself is an appalling concept for me. I've never really understood the pull women feel towards running around in a mall filled with other people and buying things that really only look good in the store. As long as it fits and doesn't make me look fatter than I already am, I'll take it and leave as fast as my legs will carry me.
But when shopping with my mother (my only source of money at the current time) everything becomes some blown up, dragged out, horrific situation. The thing with my mother is, she thinks that whatever looks good on her will look good on me.
Hahaha.
I don't think so.
She tried to get me to try on this pair of skinny jeans. I wouldn't normally have a problem with this, even though I naturally garb my chubby legs in loose fitting capris and jean shorts. Trying new things is good, right?
The pair she picked were neon green.
Neon. Green.
Please refer to the sign at the beginning of this post. Seriously, I'm really not.
The second incident was early today. My brother decided to sic the dog on my face at eight a.m. so I could make him hash browns. My dog is a lovely little pit bull with an equally lovely disposition. She has one teeny tiny little character flaw however. She likes to lick. Not just those cute little laps, but like full face wash with smelly breath.
After being rudely woken up like that, I made my dang brother his dang hash browns.
My brother's friend spent the night, which I have no problem with. But while they were munching away on my tireless fruits of labour, he asked me a question. A silly question really.
He asked me if I would go into the farmer's field across the road to shoot some chickens with a Nerf gun.
I ask him to repeat the question, certain I hadn't heard correctly. So he repeated it and I stood there, not making a sound and hoping he would forget the whole thing. The farmer across the road already isn't fond of me since I might have made a tiny little maze in his cornfield. All in the name of Hallowe'en.
Anyway, the kid asked the question a few more times after that. I ignored him all the while. But when he finally got fed up with my silence, he then proceeded to say it slowly. He asked me like I was some sort of slow brained child.
Made my day I tell you.
Just effing made my day.
I am seriously thinking about making that sign. Possibly laminating it so people really get the message.
Excuse me while I bang my head against a wall.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
High School
My high school orientation is tomorrow.
In my head I'm thinking, what could they possibly have to show me that I honestly want to know? I've gone through the content for all my classes and none of the material interests me. In English we're reading books that I've already read (To Kill A Mockingbird, Fahrenheit 451, The Giver, to name a few), in Math we're learning things I most likely won't understand. And even in Science, I won't get to learn about astronomy because I'm taking advanced classes.
Clubs are another iffy thing. I am no athlete, not even much of a runner (I appear to have this problem where I end up tripping every time I try to run). The clubs cater to people who enjoy athletic things, and a sparse few to those who don't. They don't even have an astronomy club. And taking pictures for yearbook just isn't my idea of fun.
Which is how I came to the question: How on earth am I going to convince my sports obsessed/jock loving principal to get an astronomy club or possibly get my science teacher to do something on marine biology? Or maybe even get my English teacher to hand out more writing assignments to a girl who is constantly turning everything around her into a story?
Boy, am I going to have fun with that one.
It's not like I won't enjoy high school. More freedom - asides from the fact that my little brother is following me - and harder assignments (hopefully). Possibly better class trips, actually scratch that, definitely better class trips, seeing as how I am definitely signing up to go to Peru. Not with my high school of course, but with National Geographic.
My mother suggested I join the choir, because and I quote "You have a lovely voice, dear." You can imagine my face.
So, no choir.
Just, no.
In my head I'm thinking, what could they possibly have to show me that I honestly want to know? I've gone through the content for all my classes and none of the material interests me. In English we're reading books that I've already read (To Kill A Mockingbird, Fahrenheit 451, The Giver, to name a few), in Math we're learning things I most likely won't understand. And even in Science, I won't get to learn about astronomy because I'm taking advanced classes.
Clubs are another iffy thing. I am no athlete, not even much of a runner (I appear to have this problem where I end up tripping every time I try to run). The clubs cater to people who enjoy athletic things, and a sparse few to those who don't. They don't even have an astronomy club. And taking pictures for yearbook just isn't my idea of fun.
Which is how I came to the question: How on earth am I going to convince my sports obsessed/jock loving principal to get an astronomy club or possibly get my science teacher to do something on marine biology? Or maybe even get my English teacher to hand out more writing assignments to a girl who is constantly turning everything around her into a story?
Boy, am I going to have fun with that one.
It's not like I won't enjoy high school. More freedom - asides from the fact that my little brother is following me - and harder assignments (hopefully). Possibly better class trips, actually scratch that, definitely better class trips, seeing as how I am definitely signing up to go to Peru. Not with my high school of course, but with National Geographic.
My mother suggested I join the choir, because and I quote "You have a lovely voice, dear." You can imagine my face.
So, no choir.
Just, no.
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