Musings from my mind

Time

2009-12-25T19:47:00.000-08:00

I have no idea where this will go. None whatsoever. I am once again at the midsection of Cuth Roen, which has always been my least favorite part and thus I have no desire to work on it. I can't seem to find anyone who will read through part one for me, so I don't even have that to focus on right now. All of my other projects are at near standstills. Extra stories for Cuth Roen and and various side stories for other projects start and stop again, never truly reaching completion. My sketchbook is missing, so I can't work on my comics either. No idea I come up with for a play goes anywhere. It's like I have permanent writer's block as far as the stage goes and I can't have that. It's too important this year. A lot of things are too important.
And the writer's block has spread to my other projects. I read an average of three books a week, generally more and yet I can't find the inspiration to write about any of them. It's riddiculous at this point, but I don't have anything to say. I hate it. It's almost like having my tongue cut out except worse, because someone without a tongue knows that he or she will never be able to speak again, but a writer with writer's block lives dreaming of the moment when the walls lift up and speach is possible again. I can't stand it. I need ideas and the only one I've had is about someone with writer's block and that's boring, boring beyond reason.

2009-10-25T10:54:00.000-07:00

Tic-toc, tic-toc
Watching the clock
to avoid listening
because no one needs to hear
the same things over and over.
Watching the clock
because it's keeping time
to a distant argument
two doors over, too close for comfort.
If I close my eyes...
It's all just too close.

Ok, So I Am a Failure

2009-10-07T15:04:00.000-07:00

I am apparently not capable of keeping something as organized as a reading list going, which is a shame because I love reading and I love writing. I would love to be able to articulate why I like a book and if and/or how it affected me, but I am an extremely lazy person. I can't seem to keep myself to a schedule or force myself to write about every book I read. Which is sad.

I love to read and I love hearing what other people are reading. I would willingly read any book put in front of me (admittedly, I do get bored by certain genres, but within reason, I will read anything.) So my new plan is to make a blog entirely for ranting about books.

Maybe I'm not a failure.

Reading List (We're gonna try this again) Week of 9/16/09

2009-09-16T17:40:00.000-07:00

There are five books this week. One is for school, three are library books, one was hiding in my room at my dad's house, and two I've read before. The reading list is going to change slightly, because I think me ranting about books isn't as productive and I'm trying to schedule my life more and think about things in a more critical and analytical manner. Also, that's kind of something I'll have to do a lot more in English class. So I figure reviewing the books will help me to think things through in English. In theory.

These books are, in no particular order:

1. Sprout, by Dale Peck

2. Cupcake, by Rachel Cohn

3. Bad, by Jean Ferris
4. The Dragon Heir, by Cinda Williams Chima
5. The Samurai's Garden, by Gail Tsukiyama

The reviews will be completed when I finish reading the book and this post will be updated in accordance with this plan.

In case you weren't aware, I pick books if the title/cover art/description sounds interesting. I will read just about anything.

1. Sprout

What The Inside Cover says:

Sprout Bradford has a secret. It's not what you think- he'll tell you he's gay. He'll tell you about his dad's drinking and his mother's death. The green fingerprints everywhere tell you when he last dyed his hair.
But no one is prepared to talk about what happens when Sprouts very personal choices have a profound effect on the lives around him- even as he tries his hardest to simply observe his world.
From hilarious tutorials with a teacher determined that he win the state essay-writing award to the frustrations of trying to find a boyfriend in the middle of nowhere, Sprout creates an exquisite and unforgettable life from the dust of a lonely prairie landscape.

What I think:

First off, I really loved this book for three reasons. One, I like gay, teen male characters. Two, I like books about writing/writer and I like big words. Three, there was just something to the main character, Sprout (Daniel) that I instinctively liked. It's a bit hard to describe. I think it might have been his love of words and writing. It could've been his sense of humor and wit. I really, really like stories about writers, particularly teen writers.
The story jumps around. It is always narrated by Daniel, but he jumps from the present to different moments in his life that he wants you to know. You learn a lot about him. Like the cover said, he doesn't hide much. You know that his mom had cancer. You know that his dad drinks, a lot. You know that he's from Long Island. You know that he moved to Kansas when his dad relocated them. You know that he's gay. You know that he loves words. You know about his green hair and that he likes making you think. My favorite line is "I decided that if there had to be a target on my head, I'd paint one there myself."
When you meet his friend Ruthie, you like her. You keep liking her, right up to a point where you can't stand her. Almost following Daniel's feelings towards her as he realizes that they aren't really friends anymore, that she just dyes his hair, nothing else. When she starts dating Ian, you hate her because Daniel does too. This is his story, his words and the way each character is portrayed does change as his opinion changes. It makes a neat effect, but it makes developing a separate opinion from Daniel's nearly impossible.
Nearly every character is complicated, believable, and all are capable, if nothing else, of drawing some emotional reaction. I loved Daniel and I loved Ty. I didn't always agree with every decision, every moment, or every idea, but the more I learned and the more I read, I wanted to know more. These characters had enough complexities to be realistic, which is always important for general believability.
I would read the book again. I probably will read the book again in the next week or so. I would buy the book and keep it on my shelf and read it often.

I am extremely lazy

2009-08-11T19:24:00.001-07:00

And that is my excuse for not doing any sort of blogging recently except a character survey and some other extremely pointless things. I spend nearly all of my time online, but can't be bothered to come up with anything creative to share with who ever reads this damn thing. But all is about to change around here in this little blog of mine.

This blog was started a while ago, mainly to share my then in progress story, Cuth Roen. Currently, Cuth Roen is on hold, because I have completely run out of inspiration. I still love the characters, but have decided to work on backstories right now, because I honestly cannot focus on the main storyline no matter how hard I try. That's just what happens when you spend the better part of two and a half years working on something. Eventually you run out of steam. And instead of shouting curses at the world, I've decided to put the story aside and work on other projects. Because I am mature and responsible and obviously not just giving up because it stopped being easy. So, with that project on hold, this blog is no longer solely focused on Cuth Roen. I have more stories and characters than I know what to do with. So they all will share the spotlight.
Since it began, whenever that was, I don't remember anymore, I have also shared snippets of my life, mainly because writing things through helped make them easier to understand (for the serious bits) and because writing about the silly things was good writing practice. As I get older, the serious things become more personal and I find myself keeping them close to me. The silly things remain as they always have been; silly. I don't mind writing about my life, I just don't find it that interesting.

But for those interested, here is the one and only official update: I got a cat. Her name is Piper, she's around 1-2 years old, and she used to be a stray. She's white on the bottom, but she has what appears to me a mask and a cape of dark black and lighter brown tabby markings (like a super hero) and she's an adorable little monster. I'm ninety percent sure she's showing affecting when she bites peoples fingers/toes and then latches on and scratches. I'm sure she's just trying to get my attention by pouncing and clawing my poor arms and legs. But this is just what she does when she wants you to play fetch with her. Yes, my cat plays fetch. We have this toy that's actually like half of a plastic Easter egg. She bats it all around the house, running around and making a lot of noise and then she picks it up and brings it to the nearest human who tosses it down our awesome long hallway and it all starts again. When she is calmer, she lets you pick her up, or pet her. She won't sit in laps yet, but we're working on it. She is also a bit of a glutton. She will follow you every time you go to the kitchen and meow at you, because she honestly thinks you should feed her more than twice a day. This leads to a lot of talking to the cat as if she can answer back. And she will meow at the appropriate intervals, leading you to think you understand kitty talk. She does have her bad habits, such as coming into my room as soon as the door is opened and heading straight to my bed and proceeding to attempt to pounce on my feet until I get up, but she is also the awesomest cat ever for one simple reason. Everything is a toy. Hand under a blanket? Toy. Pencil you're trying to write with? Toy. Tiny stuffed bear the size of a kitten? Toy. Cardboard box full of old photos? Toy. Everything is a toy. It's hilarious.

Another thing I used to do on this blog is review the books I read weekly. I can't promise to actually do that, but since I had to do a lot of summer reading, I do have some books to review, I will review them. Warning, I did have some very strong opinions about one of the books. So it's really not as nice as my other reviews. But I have to actually start working on the writing portion of the summer reading tomorrow, so I might as well start working on thinking of things to say about the books anyway.

So that's about it. Except that everyone should read www.theittybittykittycommittee.com. Don't ask me why, just do it.

i really like character questionaires this one is from http://www.writingclasses.com/InformationPages/index.php/PageID/106

2009-07-20T10:42:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm bothering Aden with these character questionaires. I don't spend nearly enough with him, so this should be fun. (One might remember that Aden died when he was either 19 0r 20)

• What is your character’s name? Does the character have a nickname?

Aden Jefrik. No.

• What is your character’s hair color? Eye color?

Reddish orange. blue.

• What kind of distinguishing facial features does your character have?

Freckles and a gap between his bottom front teeth. He has a snub nose.

• Does your character have a birthmark? Where is it? What about scars? How did he get them?

He has a small scar on his knee from when he fell out of a tree when he was eight.

• Who are your character’s friends and family? Who does he surround herself with? Who are the people your character is closest to? Who does he wish he were closest to?

Aden has one older sister who is six years older than him, who has always been the perfect daughter. He really doesn't like her. The feeling is rather mutual, since Aden tends to disgust his immediate family. His parents didn't really know what to do with him, since his life's goal has been to be worse than his sister, and he's a bit of a trouble maker, very violent, mischievous, sneaky, a compulsive liar...etc. But that's mostly in the privacy of his own home.

when it comes to friends, Aden was a scene kid in highschool, but really a loner in mentality. He went to all the parties where he could get drugs, and he hung out with the other people who did the same thing, but he never developed real friendships because to most people he was too unpredictable emotions-wise. He was very charming to most people when they first met him, but anyone who got too close met his obsessive, addicted, controlling side. He got in a lot of fights in middle and high school, ending in what should've been his senior year when his boyfriend dumped him for being an addict and he broke the boy's jaw. He went to trial for assualt and missed a month of classes while in Kaltro's version of Juvie. He then repeated the year and pretended to be clean until he relocated to Royal City for University.

Now in Royal city, he's become friendly with most of the people Edur hangs out with. He's trying to start over, so he really does want things to work out with Edur, so he isnt nearly as obsessive or controlling. At first, anyway. Actually, he wasn't nearly as bad with Edur as he was with previous boyfriends, so he did try...but-

His cousin, Jason Andros, is slightly afraid of him, due to the fact that when they were younger, Aden held his head underwater in the creek behind Aden's house because Jason wouldn't give him a marble or something stupid like that. Aden has also pushed him out of a tree, and held a knife to his throat. All has been mostly forgiven, because Aden stopped being that much of an asshole to Jason after they got into highschool. (DRUGS-huh what who said that?)

• Where was your character born? Where has he lived since then? Where does he call home?

Aden was born in a small suburb of a town in northern Kaltro. He moved to Royal City for University and lived there until his death .

He calls a second floor walk up 1 and a half room appartment home

• Where does your character go when he’s angry?

Aden doesn't usually go anywhere when he's angry. Mainly because Aden's anger separates between "I am going to fucking kill you" anger and "Get the fuck away from me right now" anger. He doesnt actually have to relocate anywhere.

• What is his biggest fear? Who has he told this to? Who would he never tell this to? Why?

Aden's biggest fear is that he really is as worthless as his family acts like he is. He has never told anyone this and he never would tell anyone, because he believes that anything a person knows about you can and will be used against you.

• Does he have a secret?

Aden's secret is that he-Well, I don't know. He wouldn't tell me.

• What makes your character laugh out loud?

Really gory horror movies. Aden has a very grotesque, sick sense of humor and he thinks gorefests are comedies. Actual comedy kinda confuses him, because he knows he should find it funny and he really doesn't.

• When has your character been in love? Had a broken heart?

The one time Aden would've genuinely called it love, he wasn't able to control his controlling, abusive side and Edur left. Aden+drugs+relationship=disaster.

Then dig deeper by asking more unconventional questions:

• What is in your character’s refrigerator right now? On his bedroom floor? On his nightstand? In his garbage can?

In the refridgerator, there are three clementines, two cartons of leftover takeout, some tinfoil wrapped peices of pizza, diet soda, and six emergency chocolate bars for hangovers.

Aden's apartment is really just one room and a kitchen area, plus a bathroom, so the floor's really a mess. Lots of shoes and accessories and empty cigarette boxes and debris.

There isn't a nightstand.

The garbage can has banana peels, a few empty pill bottles, more diet soda bottles, candy wrappers, and lots of crumpled up peices of paper.

• Look at your character’s feet. Describe what you see there. Does he wear dress shoes, gym shoes, or none at all? Is he in socks that are ratty and full of holes? Or is he wearing a pair of blue and gold slippers knitted by his grandmother?

he's not wearing socks because he's at home and in general, he doesn't really like socks or shoes. The bottoms of his feet are dirty and he has an old hospital bracelet from six month ago around his ankle

• When your character thinks of his childhood kitchen, what smell does he associate with it? Sauerkraut? Oatmeal cookies? Paint? Why is that smell so resonant for him?

Aden remembers burnt popcorn and tv dinners, because his mom never cooked and any time Aden or his sister tried to make popcorn, it burned and eventually the smell became permanent.

• Your character is doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for him to throw out? What is difficult for him to part with? Why?

While Edur sleeps, Aden has no problem disposing of empty bottles of pills and empty cigarette boxes, and old newspapers and letters from home. Once Edur wakes up, Aden is unwilling to part with anything else in the apartment, no matter how well worn or useless.

• It’s Saturday at noon. What is your character doing? Give details. If he’s eating breakfast, what exactly does he eat? If he’s stretching out in her backyard to sun, what kind of blanket or towel does he lie on?

Aden is just waking up on a purple futon under an orange fleece blanket. The sun is creeping around heavy drapes installed only so the sun won't wake him up. He's wearing green boxer shorts and squinting angrily at the ceiling. Edur has probably already gone to work, or he's handing him a cup of coffee.

• What is one strong memory that has stuck with your character from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?

At his sister's graduation party, when Aden was ten, he heard one relative say something along the lines of, "well at least one of them made something of themselves." He still remembers that because his family's expectations of him have lowered steadily over the years to the point where when he graduated highschool all they were hoping for was that he'd stay alive. He couldn't even manage that.

• Your character is getting ready for a night out. Where is he going? What does he wear? Who will he be with?

Quite frankly, it doesn't matter to Aden. the only question that matters is, "will there be drugs?"

Character Questionnaire 2

This questionnaire was invented by the noted French author Marcel Proust. These questions are frequently used in interviews so you may want to pretend you’re interviewing your characters.

• What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Um, once I stayed awake for three days straight. And there was that one time I won this competition thing the uh, well jail-thing's gym was having for boxing. I won the most matches. I guess that was pretty great. And once I climbed this huge tree, I got all the way to the top. I'm not sure I've really done anything that could be called my greatest achievement yet.

• What is your idea of perfect happiness?

I don't have a bloody clue. maybe it's not raining? Maybe cigarettes and booze and serpents breath are free? Maybe no one has any expectations of me, not even me? That'd be fucking brilliant.

• What is your current state of mind?

It's been ups and downs recently. A little like a roller coaster, it goes around and it loops and its at one thing and then another and then suddenly you're back to pretty much where you started. And then you buy another ticket and you let the whole thing start all over again. I can't quite decide whether I like it or not, same as the last time I was on a roller coaster.

• What is your favorite occupation?

Fighting. Professional-like, you know, with rules and stuff. Kick-boxing, boxing, MMA, you know, stuff like that. I just love the rush you can get from it.

• What is your most treasured possession?

Well, I ain't about to tell you am I? You might take it

(Me- You really don't have a choice)

Look, I really don't know. I don't really keep stuff that long, so I don't have anything like that.

• What or who is the greatest love of your life?

Really fucking personal questions aren't they? You want the honest answer? I love Edur. I know that. I love fighting. I love the buzz in my head. Ain't particularly healthy, but I love it.

(Aden isn't really self aware enough to admit that his greatest love is himself and that he gives himself almost anything he asks for)

• What is your favorite journey?

I haven't really made that many journeys in my life. I don't like bloody traveling.

• What is your most marked characteristic?

Most people say I'm as stubborn as an ass and twice as ornery.

• When and where were you the happiest?

That is a very good question. I have no fucking clue.

• What is it that you most dislike?

How much time do I have? Because I hate my sister, my parent, expectations, university, being sober, headaches, annoying yappy little dogs, penguins, rain, hospitals, thunder, hangovers, tea, and-

(me: we ran out of time and had to cut him off)

• What is your greatest fear?

You really want to know? I'm scared that I'm really as worthless as everyone keeps telling me. Or worse, that I'm not and I don't have any excuse for screwing up my life.

• What is your greatest extravagance?

Wha's that?

(something you wasted a lot of money on)

I bought Edur concert tickets once. They cost a lot.

• Which living person do you most despise?

My sister.

• What is your greatest regret?

I ain't got one.

• Which talent would you most like to have?

I would love to be good at something, but I ain't got a clue as to what.

• Where would you like to live?

Anywhere's good.

• What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Being sober and listening to my mother tell me everything I've ever done wrong. Trust me, you only need to have that happen once before you fear for your very life.

• What is the quality you most like in a man?

Humor, usually. Humility, not being afraid to look stupid sometimes.

• What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Don't really care

• What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

That I can't control what I do when I get angry.

• What is the trait you most deplore in others?

Always giving in.

• What do you most value in your friends?

I don't really have friends, but honesty is important

• Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

I don't really read that much.

• Whose are your heroes in real life?

I don't have any.

• Which living person do you most admire?

Honestly? I admire Sadi. I would never tell him, but the way he's able to stick with what he believes in, no matter what, I wish I could do that.

• What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

Charity.

• On what occasions do you lie?

When I want something, when I don't want to get in trouble, when I want to leave, basically, whenever I think it'll help me get what I want.

• Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

Any curse, babe, and i think that's about it.

• If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I would make myself someone that didn't get so angry over stupid little things.

• What are your favorite names?

Rose. Gavin. Jesse.

• How would you like to die?

In battle.

(Aden died of a drug overdose. It might have been on purpose)

• If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?

I'd like to come back as a monarch butterfly.

• What is your motto?

Mottos are stupid.

Well...I didn't mean to (An open letter to all my dead characters)

2009-07-13T18:31:00.000-07:00

Dear ______,

I didn't know you when I thought you up. You were a figment of imagination that grew into a character and as I created you I probably fell in love with you. But in the beginning, I only wrote you into existence because I needed someone, anyone to fill a particular place in a story. And perhaps, when I first thought of you, you were already dead, part of another, more fleshed out character's past. But then I decided to write back stories for you. And you became a fleshed out and important in your own right and now I regret killing you before I knew you. And there's a part of me that really wishes I didn't have to kill you or that the story could suddenly become sci-fi or fantasy and thus I could bring you back to life, but the rest of me knows that it could mess up the entire plot.

Or perhaps you started out as a major character. And in a stroke of cruel brilliance, I decided that the only way to move the story along was for you to die and thus you did. And I can't take it back now because certain story moments don't work without your death. Or maybe I wasn't even planning to kill you at all. And you died because I was working on the story with other people and they weren't doing enough work, so we had to wrap up the story quickly.

And I regret all of this, because each and all of you were absolutely awesome to write about. I think you all are all characters who I would love to hang out with if you existed in this universe. You all have had some of my favorite lines that I've written and I'm sure you all have a good enough sense of humor that you would forgive me for what I've put you through. I'm pretty sure I put my characters that are still alive through worse.

So, all I'm saying is that I'm sorry for causing your death.

But I still love each and every one of you.

Sincerely,

Tuesday Smiles

Summer

2009-06-18T14:44:00.000-07:00

I wish that I could draw this , but it almost feels like that would be sacrilege. I am watching a ritual known only to the musically devoted. I'm an outsider, smiling shyly at their rapture. I wish that I could draw this, but a picture wouldn't hold what's in the air around us, It wouldn't be real anymore.
Dom and Taylor are sitting cross legged in the grass, facing each other, each holding acoustic guitars in their laps. Dom's guitar is covered in multicolored sharpie graffiti, while Taylor's isn't decorated, just well worn. While I sit off to the side and watch, their fingers fly over the strings, plucking out a tune. I don't think they're even thinking about anything anymore; they belong to the music. Their eyes are on their fingers one minute and on each other the next. I am not part of their world. I am an observer.
Taylor's hair is longer than I remember. It hangs over his eyes and hides his ears. In a tee shirt I don't recognize, his skinny arms are darker and his face is sprinkled with more of the freckles I fell in love with. His sweatshirt is lying next to the guitar case and his shoes, which he kicked off once we were out of range of the little kids with their soccer balls and frisbees and yappy dogs eager for attention. The soles of his shoes are held together with neon duct tape. It's colors are fading at the edges. Opposite of him, Dom isn't faded at all; in the sunlight he almost gleams. He is much more solid than Taylor, with a white tee shirt and black jeans and skater sneakers, even though he definitely isn't a skater at all. His tattoos are winding around his arms and his neck, while his leather jacket covers the little girl asleep in the baby stroller. She fell while we were walking here, but Dom said to let her sleep, that she'd probably wake up when we stopped. She hasn't woken up yet, but the boys are drawing a crowd.
Now that they've warmed up, they are trading moments of glory, showing off for each other, while letting each other shine. Every so often, their notes blend together and they exchange glances that read "holy shit" loud and clear. They know that this is magic. Musically, they share the same soul. Musical equilibrium. I am most definitely not part of this moment. I could try to capture it in graphite on paper, but I wouldn't ever be allowed to partake in the magic. I can watch and I can worship, but that is all.
Lupe and Damaris would've come along, but Lupe has yet another custody hearing and Damaris is at daycare. Everyone else had to work or didn't want to go to the park. Everyone is meeting us at the beach later.
The song feels like the day and I can hear the sun shining through the trees and the grass underneath us. I can hear the cars we walked past and the people around us gossiping and shouting. Every sound is being wound around the tune of two battling guitars. Nearby, a girl starts beating on an African drum and a slender boy dances barefoot, spinning and flipping fluidly in time. I am stunned, staring as the many moments blend together into one. And Taylor turns to me and whispers.
"Come on Ross," he says, "draw."
And I do.
The boy dancing in midair, scalp gleaming through pale newly shorn hair. The bright sun turns him into an angel or a creature of the Fae. The girl leans over her drum, dark braided hair falling over tense shoulders. Her eyes are closed to the world. The two tiny girls blowing bubbles while their older brothers throw frisbees back and forth. the butterfly that just landed on Adelaide's forehead, waking her up smiling. The light through its wings and the giggles trapped in her smile. Taylor's bare feet and the indents in the grass. The strangers who stop to serve as witnesses.
I am not made of music. I cannot create a tune or carry one. I can draw tune, though. And this one looks like a sunny park, glittering smiles, and butterflies. This tune looks like summer.

When was the last time I actually wrote a blogpost?

2009-04-20T16:09:00.000-07:00

I don't think I necessarily have writer's block, I just haven't felt like talking about myself in a while. So...um I don't know. Life's been kinda calm for the past who knows how long. I'm in my school's tech crew, which is like stage crew, except we build everything and run lights and sound to. We're doing Sweeney Todd, and we just finished getting all the sets finished and the lighting set up. The Show is in like, a week and a half. So far, everything has been pretty fun, even though our Tech Director has massive OCD (worse than mine) and he's come up with a million stupid tiny jobs for everyone to do over the course of this whole thing. And a large percentage of the stupid jobs have gone to my boyfriend. Which reminds me. I have a new boyfriend. I'm not even going to bother to come up with a nickname for him, because I'm lazy. I met him near the beginning of this year and we've been together since January. Every relative I've introduced him to likes him, he's nice, and you'd think everything would be fine. But no. He happens to be almost four years older than me (held back in elementry and thus a senior to my freshman) and thus we aren't allowed to hang out "alone" together, ever.
I've asked both of my parents why not and they both said something along the line of "we're not comfortable with the fact that he's nineteen and I'm fifteen." My dad also said that "he's in a different place in his life than you are." In all honesty, I don't see that. We're two people who like each other, who like being near each other, who can talk and keep a conversation without awkward silences. So what if he's nineteen? He's still the boyfriend that I've felt the most comfortable around and it's not like the second we're left alone we're gonna have sex. Personally, I'm terrified enough of having a child ever, so it's really not a likely occurance. Plus, I don't want my boyfriend going to jail because I happen to be a minor. I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to either. I don't think there would be any problem with us hanging out in a public place like a park or a library (I know, I'm boring) with tons of other people around.
So that's the stuff that's been on my mind the most lately. Hope you enjoyed.

Ok, so stumble got me to here.....http://killmepleasegod.deviantart.com/art/TBDLOQTAOAC-Taylor-86981035....and i decided to steal the idea

2009-02-27T17:47:00.000-08:00

The Big Damn List Of Questions To Ask Of A Character
How to use this list: So you've got a character. Awesome. Now flesh them out. Sit them down beside you and force them to answer these questions. Don't let them cop out on you...for example, don't let them tell you they'd never kill someone. Make them tell you a scenario in which they would kill. Have a time with it.

Character Chosen: Dumitru Everhardt-Hallam
Popping in unexpectedly and unwantedly: Oliver Siothrun.

What kind of shampoo does the character use and why?
D- Um, whatever kind Edur buys. I don't do have any house hold responsibilities other than grocery shopping for FOOD and I've never actually bothered to look.

Does the character drive? Why or why not?
D- I live in CUTH ROEN. THERE ARE NO CARS.
O- I think they meant that why as a personal motive besides the whole "living in Cuth Roen" thing.
D- Oh, well, that's cause they're scary and bigger than me.
O- Lots of things are bigger than you.
D-Who asked you?

In what situation would the character kill another person?
D- I would have to be incredibly angry or scared, plus stoned and/or drunk enough to actually kill someone. I get really annoyed at people and want to hurt them, but usually I just walk away or stop listening.
O- Why do you people think I'm still alive?
D- The only person I would probably kill on sight for little to no reason would be Austin, cause I think it's reached the point where he deserves it.
O- YOU THINK!!! That bastard fu--
D- Oliver, shut up. Now.

What is something unique to the character that they imagine no one else has in common?
D- I think my metabolism deserves some award for retaining nothing from the food i eat, but keeping me alive on a steady diet of cigarettes, tea, and junk food.
O- That might've been the drugs, sweet heart.
D- It was like that before I was on drugs and it's still like that now that I've been clean for seven years.
O- whatever you say.

What is the character afraid of?
D- Um...lots of things. Pools. Spiders. The dark. Cars. Being alone. Being the center of attention. Small spaces. Doctors. Losing Edur. Um...
O- Food?
D-I'm not necessarily afraid of food.
O- I think your greatest fear is that they'll stop making cigarettes.
D- No comment.

What does the character do for a living? Are they a student?
D- I'm a bartender four nights a week for six hours a night. I mostly live off of Edur.

What is the character's single most prized possession?
D-Hint, It's silver and shiny and on my left ring finger. Take a wild guess.

What is the character's morning routine?
D- Get woken up at six by Edur, smoke , drink tea, say good bye, go back to sleep for a few more hours, maybe eat an apple or something.

What makes a day a "bad day" for the character?
D- Murphy's law days. The days where I have panic attacks, or Edur works late, or I get a morning shift or Oliver decided to be obnoxious.

What makes a day a "good day" for the character?
D- I don't feel sick or scared about anything and no one pisses me off.

What does the character think about right before bed?
D- That depends entirely on the day.
O- You used to just pass out, so I'm sure you didn't actually have thoughts. Now though....
D-As I said, it depends.

While masturbating?
D-No comment.
O- Damn I actually wanted to know this one.
D- Seriously, who let you in?

During boring staff meetings?
D- I work at a bar that hasn't changed in almost 50 years. There aren't any staff meetings. I just show up, make drinks, get paid and go home.

What does the character worry about?
D- I try really hard not to worry about anything. It's better that way.
O- Last time we let him worry he had a melt down and shaved his head, so um this is just easier.

What is the character's favorite hobby?
D- smoking.
O- That's not a hobby, darling.
D- Reading then.
O- You're boring.
D- I know.

What is the character's favorite season?
D- Spring.

What is the character ashamed of about their body?
O- Don't even let him get started.
D- What?
O- You have weekly rants about what you hate about your body.
D- Really?
O- Yes. You say you're too skinny, that your eyes are too big, that you hate your scars, that your nose is weirdly shaped, that your hair's too long-
D- You can stop now.
O- I prove my point.

What secrets does the character keep from the people closest to him or her?
D- Obviously I can't answer that with him here.
O- I can tell them what you keep from Edur and almost everyone else.
D-I have no idea what you're talking about.
O- Well, there's the Austin thing, the crush on Salem, the amount of money you spend on cigarettes, those Zadae pills from a few years back, the like, three years you don't remember, and the time you almost burned our building to the ground cause you were mad at me.

What is the character's beverage of choice? Alcoholic and non.
D- I will drink pretty much any alcoholic beverage, but I don't like wine. Tea is good otherwise.
O- This is an example of a corrupted child. Take notice, and beware.
D- Not a child goddamnit!
O- If you say so, honey.

Does the character smoke? What brand?
D- Yes, and um, since when does the brand matter.
O- Yes, when you smoke up to three packs a day, what does it matter?

What does the character look for in a friend? In an enemy?
D- I need to feel safe and comfortable around a friend. Enemies are avoided at all costs.

Is the character popular? Do they like being popular? Do they want to be unpopular?
(Or, do they like being unpopular? Would they like to be popular?) Why?
D- I don't think I'm popular and I like it that way.

Does the character have a lot of friends or just a few close ones?
D- A few close friends and a few acquaintances. And Oliver.
O- Why am i not just a friend.
D- Because I have no idea what to classify you as.

Does the character prefer to be alone or with people?
D- Not necessarily alone, but not with lots of people.

Does the character have any special talents?
D- No. None whatsoever.
O- Manipulation is a talent, you know.
D- I'm ignoring you.

Does the character believe in true love? Love at first sight? Are they a romantic? Are they a cynic?
D- Yes. I'm married, aren't I?

What is the character's favorite book? Do they like to read?
D- I like fairy tales, murder-mysteries and romance novels.

What is the character's favorite food?
D- Gummy bears. The yellow ones, not the green ones.

Where does the character like to go for vacation?
D- The beach.

How does the character escape it all?
D- My coping methods change daily.
O- And you probably don't want to know most of them.

What does the character want to do with his or her life?
D- be happy. Stay alive.

In what situation might the character commit suicide? How would they do it? What do they think of suicide?
D- I was in that position once. Or seven thousand times. To get me there again you would probably have to remove everything I have that I love and have me isolated completely. I would probably just take a handful of Zadae and the world would fall away.
Where I am now, though, suicide isn't something I could see myself doing. I'm at a really good place and I know what Edur's already gone through regarding suicides and I would never willingly put him through that again.
O- That was suprisingly insightful of you.
D- I've had a lot of time to think about this, ok?

Is the character in love right now? How are they dealing with that?
D- Yes, and I'm dealing with it by loving him.

Does the character have siblings? How do they get on now? How did they get on then?
D- I don't actually have siblings, but Oliver and I grew together.
O- Secretly he really does love me , I promise you.
D- Oliver, you're like the puppy in the window that's really cute, but no one buys because it pees on the carpet and bites people.
O- But you love me anyway.

Does the character have pets? What kinds? Names?
D- I've asked for pets before, but Edur says no, because he doesn't want to have to take care of it. He says I'd get bored after a day or two, and he's probably right, but still...
O- If I'm the puppy that pees on carpets, you're the goldfish that lets the food stay on the top of the bowl. you dont take care of yourself. why would you take care of a pet?

Has the character ever moved across the country to start fresh?
D- I could never leave Cuth Roen.

What was the last book the character took out from the library?
D- I borrow books from Edur. The Cuth Roen Library kinda sucks.

What was the last thing the character purchased on their credit card?
D- No credit card. Cuth Roen's a little behind on things, plus cash is easier and a little bit safer.

What were the character's parents/childhood like?
D- Traumatic and I don't like to talk about it.
O- I'm gonna have to agree with him on this one.

What would the character not want you to see in his/her internet browser?
D- Please see the first part of my answer about the credit card.

What does the character look for when selecting a porno?
D- I don't watch porn.

Does the character collect anything?
D- not really...um hand-me-down teeshirts? sneakers?
O- You do own more pairs of sneakers than anyone I know.

What turns the character on?
D- None of your business.
O- Can I answer for him? Please Please Please?
Me- Yeah sure.
O- Tall guys with muscle and facial hair/tattoos/peircings.
D- Hush you.
O- I speak only the truth.

What turns the character off?
D- People who aren't confident in who they are.

Has the character ever broken someone's heart? Been heart broken?
O- This boy has broken many, many hearts, but the best thing is that he doesn't remember any of it.
D- my heart was broken, but we fixed it.

Has the character ever been arrested? What would the character possibly ever be arrested for? When would the character break the law willingly?
D- Never been arrested, but if I lived anywhere else in the world I think there's underaged drinking/drug use/ possession/ smoking.
O- Such a little delinquent.
D- You're one to talk.

Has the character ever lost a loved one?
D- My mom died on my 14th birthay,

What if they lost a loved one now? What if they'd never lost the loved one they did lose?
D- This is one of those instances where suicide might occur.
O- DOn't you dare.
D- Oh don't worry, if I die I'm taking you with me.

How would their life be different if one or both of their parents had died some years ago? How would their life be different if no one they loved had ever died?
D- If my mother had lived, I honestly think I would be a lot more screwed up than I already am.

What is the character's spirituality/faith like?
D- Um...I like some traditions from different faiths, but personally don't believe there's anyone up there who cares about down here.

What is the character's favorite music?
D- Dancy pop music and anything that's not screaming.

What is the character's favorite brand of makeup? Booze? Clothes? Computer?
D- brands are boring.

Does the character like poetry? Who is the character's favorite poet?
D- Poetry is kinda annoying.

Has the character ever slept with a man? A woman? Someone else? What are their thoughts on sexuality?
D- Yes, no, huh? and I think it's something that you're born with that can come in many variations.

Can the character draw? Sing? Play an instrument? Dance?
D- I can doodle. Does that count?

Has the character been engaged? What was the proposal like? Did it last? How did it end? What happened to the ring?
D- Yes, it was a story book proposal, , for a few months, we got married, and i am still wearing the ring.
O- Him and Edur are ridiculously sweet. It should be illegal.
D- You're just jealous.

Is the character married? Did they elope? Was it a big wedding?
D- yes, and it was a very nice little wedding.

Is the character divorced now?
D-no.

Does the character have kids?
D- no. And i don't want any either.
O- Edur wants kids.
D- go away oliver.

Does the character like thunderstorms?
D- not particularly.

Has the character gone skinny dipping? Do they want to? In what situation might they?
D- No, and I probably never would. I'm scared of pools.
O- What about the ocean?
D- I can barely swim and that would be public. So no. just-no.

In what situation might the character ever pose nude for an artist?
D- I've posed nude for Edur before. We just have to be in private for me to agree to it.
O- would you happen to have these pictures saved anywhere, would you?
D- I like you better when you're not perverted.
O- I didn't want to see them. I just wanted to know if you knew where Edur keeps them.
D- In his desk, ok?
O- Interesting

Does the character have a tattoo? Piercings? Funny hair?
D- I have a few tattoos, but they were all for very important occasions. Edur and all the girls at the shop want me to get a nose ring but I don't want any peircings. And my hair is blue, but I don't think that qualifies as funny.

Boxers or briefs?
D- Boxers.
O- Really?
D-Yes.
O- Interesting.
D- I'm sure there's something you're trying to imply there, but I'm not sure I want to know.

Has the character lost a lot of weight? Gained a lot of weight?
D- My weight has been pretty stable recently, thankyouverymuch.
O- Yes, you're only slightly underweight as opposed to extremely underweight.
D- ShutuprightnowOliverorisweari'llkillyou.

In what situation would the character seek to purposely hurt someone?
D- If I was under the influence and they pissed me off. But usually I'd talk someone else into doing the hurting for me.

Does the character swear a lot?
D- Yes.
O- As I said, he was corrupted as a child.

What is the character's favorite flower?
D- Blue roses.

What is the character's favorite animal?
D- narwhals.

Can the character cook?
D- no. I'm extremely useless.

It's not that I have writers block. It's that I can't come up with a lasting idea and stick with it

2009-01-31T15:19:00.000-08:00

My creativity and writing ability are coming out in spurts now. I'll get an idea for something, work a little and walk away. And while this isn't a bad thing, it's annoying. It also means that I have almost twenty different projects, characters, ideas, places, and songs running through my head at any given time. Since my laptop's hard drive is getting wiped, I have to retype Cuth Roen (part 1) and the only copy I have is completely unedited. Like with any writing from more than maybe six months ago, I HATE it. I started editing it and not only am I disappointed at my own writing, but I'm also annoyed by some of my characters. And then there's portions where all I can think is "wait a minute, that's completely out of character, why did I write that." So that would be my newest on going project. I also have a few Cuth Roen backstories that I've been working with on and off for a while now. I also have a story that takes place in the Cuth Roen universe, but in a different country, with different characters. Then there's a story written entirely for sadistic purposes, because I've been pretty awful to these characters. I also have another story that could turn into a book that is set in a fictional version of the real world, set mainly in a fictional version of the area I live in. Add to this that I've been writing more lyrics for The Color Yes and I'm working on another collaboration story with a few friends of mine. So this is just the main stuff I'm working on. My brain also comes up with one-shots for my characters that might have absolutely nothing to do with the actual story or might, but were usually written just to test out a different style. I'm also converting a part of one story into story boarding, because I think it would look cool as a movie.
But words aren't all that's been cluttering my mind recently. I also draw, so there's been a lot of doodling. And in addition to the normal types of art, I also draw comics for a few of my cuth roen characters.

I've kinda forgotten the point of this rant by now. But I guess it helps to list everything crowding my head, just in case I need to refer to it or something.

YAY MIDTERMS ARE OVER!

2009-01-29T17:36:00.000-08:00

I just needed to get that out of my system before this bitchfest starts. I'm finished all my midterms and I'm pretty sure I aced them all. I also proved that a human being is like a sponge. I sleep during bio, but I got 91% on the midterm. Obviously this means that I absorbed knowledge instead of actually learning. Which is vaguely disturbing.

While all that is extremely uplifting, I really do have a bitchfest to write. My laptop hates me and has been acting up and is completely stupid. According to dell tech support, the only way to fix my computer is to wipe the hard drive. Which makes sense and seems perfectly reasonable until you remember that I am a writer who has next to none of her work backed up anywhere. And that now I either have to retype things I have printed and/or dig through my email and this blog. Which sucks, because now this means I have backstories I started writing that I never showed anyone that could've been amazing if/when I finished them. So I'm gonna go sulk for a while cause it's just annoying. And they should be able to fix this without destroying all my hard work. but whatever.

I don't know if I have ever explained this to anyone, but on a regular basis I exhibit classic OCD symptoms. My friends believe me, as does my sister, but my mom does not. Examples vary from when I'm walking down the hall and more often than not, I have to, I mean really really have to touch the wall; to when I am writing my stories and have to know every single detail of my character's life; or when I am cleaning my room (this happens rarely, proof that my OCD is not that bad) I will come up with a complex organization method. I once organised my bookshelf by book size. The point is that when I want to be, I am the worlds most annoying OCD person ever. So it makes sense that the new Tech Director at our school let me be in control of the organization of the Tool Box, which is our closet for all things that we need to build sets and such. It also houses lights and stuff, but it's still the Tool Box. Anyway, I keep mulling over the organization, but I am currently stumped as to how many shelves there were on the shelving unit that had the buckets of nails on it. I can't remember and it's driving me insane. For the reccord, awful memory is another mental issue I suffer from. But yeah, so I'm gonna stop blathering now. If anyone knows how many shelves there were, I'd kinda like to know. kthanxbai

Happy New Years and all that wonderful crap

2009-01-04T16:29:00.000-08:00

OK, so my new years resolution is to not make a resolution. I know it sounds crazy. It's a stupid resolution and I will admit that. But come on, people. I'm a teenager. What else am I supposed to do to boost my self esteem except guarantee that I'll stick to my new years resolution? Yes, I know I'm full to the brim with BS. It's another wonderful trait we teenagers have in amazingly large quantities.

Well, that's enough of that. Winter break is basically finished, so now it's time to go back to school. If anyone cares, I got two CDs and two comic books for hannukah. The Sandman, By Neil Gaiman is probably the greatest comic series ever written. I currently own books 1, 9, and 10, as well as what is technically book 11, Endless Nights. I love them. They are brilliant. All three of the people who read these things should now go buy books 2-8 for me. kthanxbi. Kidding, I promise you. If anyone really, really cares, the CDs were Radiohead and the Rolling Stones. I like them both. I'm almost like a sponge when it comes to music. As long as it's got a beat and isn't someone screaming their lungs out for no purpose (i.e. a large majority of rap and metal and some hip-hop.) So these were great presents. But am I the only one who misses when the presents were pointless and huge? I mean, all of my presents this year were nearly practical. Those books are great for car rides. Those CDs are good for the morning ride to school. And don't even get me started on the travel coffee mug my little brother got me (with help from mom). I mean, I'll actually use that for godsake. So, to anyone who feels like buying me a bit of a late present, I want one of the Batman playsets. The joker's lair one, or something like that. And a joker action figure. They sell them at target. I know. I've checked.

Which brings me to another point. If it wasn't already explained in the previous paragraph, certain friends of mine have dragged me over to the dark side with delicious cookies. In other words, they converted me into one of them and I am now a proud nerd/geek in training. I mean I was already halfway there, but I've started watching Dr.Who and my birthday party was about four hours or so playing Rockband at a friend's house. So you see, I've turned into one of them. And it's fun.

So let's see, in 2008 I was dumped after a little over a year of dating, I started the horror known as highschool, joined my sister's martial arts club, made a few new friends, have a new crush (shh, don't tell, my mom reads this thing), and turned into a nerd. Not a bad way to spend a year. Have a good 2009, crazies who read this.

Blah

2008-12-23T16:47:00.001-08:00

right now, like my last random post, i have an essay due at midnight. It's about fairy tales, specifically their usefulness in the modern world. In other words, a lot of psychobabble. And I'm having trouble thinking of something to explain how Cinderella can apply to anxieties that young boys experience. I read the original Grimm's Brother's version of Cinderella to my two brothers, ages 11 and 6. They both chose the birds as the most memorable or "favorite" part of the story. If you don't recall, the birds are both Cinderella's helpers, picking lentils out of the ashes and giving her the pretty clothes and shoes, and the warning messengers to the prince, and in the end, they peck out the stepsister's eyes. I double checked with the older one and he said that he liked the birds throughout the story. the youngest specifically said he liked the little chant. I also discussed the story with my sister's boyfriend, age 19, and he liked the birds best, calling them the only action part of the story. further discussion with various people touched on possibly a childlike need for order and justice, along with a desire to be helpful. Yet the 11 year old said at first that he liked the birds because "they ruined the step-sisters' lives" Perhaps there is also the male impulse to destroy, and yet, the birds aren't really bad or good. they are more helping the greater good, but not necessarily in the spot light. Yes, i realize that this sounds like a complete thought, and one I could easily turn into a paper, but I can't formulate paragraphs, or specific ideas. But I guess I've got a start.

Today is Danny's birthday.

2008-11-20T18:23:00.000-08:00

Most people forget about Danny. In the story, he's Oliver's love interest from the start, even if they both deny it. But today's his birthday. He's like, I don't know 25 or something.

But anyway, this is a poem(ish) thing I started writing earlier in the week and finished today. No, it is not actually my voice. It's just an idea that came to mind and had to be written.

Only If

If you give me a smile, I’ll smile back.

If you hold my hand, I’ll walk next to you.

If you hold me, I won’t let you go.

If you walk away, I’ll sit on the curb and wait.

If you call and say you’re sorry, I’ll say nothing.

If you think I’m joking, I’ll turn around and leave.

I might dance in the rain, but only if you’ll dance with me.

What the hell, brain?

2008-11-09T20:23:00.000-08:00

Basically, my mind decided tonight that since I had three essays to write, it was going to go completely AWOL on my. I can't seem to focus for more than a second and I've gotten one of the essays done. These essays are due tomorrow, second period. I'm screwed. And yet my brain keeps acting like I have all the time in the world. I am repeatedly checking sites that I know will not update until tomorrow. My earlier browsing discovered a new comic and I am restraining myself from reading more. I have created a new playlist for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I signed off of AIM so that I couldn't be distracted from other people, but I probably should've just gotten off the internet entirely. SO not going to happen. So what else have I done? I've worked on my newest story. I've considered getting out my anatomy book and trying to draw a few of my more difficult characters (ex. the girls). I've attempted to make coffe and failed miserably. I've thought a lot more about writing a character version of myself. I've read the articles these essays are supposed to be based on. I've eaten way more applecake than I probably should've. I've...you know what? I really haven't done anything. I've procrastinated from procrastinating. The silly (aka awesomely amusing) vlogs I watch haven't updated. My favorite blogs and webcomics aren't updating because those people are asleep. I'm bored out of my mind, my head hurts, and I really don't care enough about religion to write two more essays about Islam.

Just Dance

2008-11-08T17:49:00.000-08:00

I like to draw in paint sometimes and this is one one my most recent pictures. I like it.

There will be no reading list

2008-10-30T18:25:00.000-07:00

It just took too long and they're all due at the library anyway, so oh well

I'm going to be secret agent Tuesday for Halloween

2008-10-29T15:30:00.000-07:00

OLIVER FOR PRESIDENT '08!

vp is a half drowned cat in an alleyway

"WE SUPPORT TACOS"

2008-10-19T15:58:00.001-07:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY OLIVER

The Color Yes

2008-10-13T18:31:00.000-07:00

My friend, referred to on this Blog as The YES and on our blog 14 for the Future as Monday, had an amazing idea some time last year. I'm not sure when. It really doesn't matter. Anyways, one day, in art club or some time before (I really don't remember this clearly. I apologize. As long as you get the point, I don't think it matters.) Ok, so a conversation started about The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (movie.) Anyone who has seen that movie knows that the answer to the ultimate question is 42, and that later in the movie it is changed to YES. So, hypothetically, you could answer every question in the world with either Yes or 42. As a matter of fact, Monday did that once for part of a day. It was quite amusing. But, somehow it came up that there should be a color Yes. (that was why I remembered Art Club. She attempted to make this color.) I kept thinking it over and the general consensus was that The Color Yes would make a really cool band name. If I was more than marginally musically inclined, I would start a band called The Color Yes. But I'm not. And my friends are incredibly unmotivated. So The Color Yes became a fictional band in my version of the modern world (not the Cuth Roen Universe, just an alternate version of this one.) Pretty much all of my favorite characters from a few random "real world" stories love The Color Yes.

You might wonder what kind of music would a band called The Color Yes play, and the answer is, I'm not sure. They're a band of five musicians, a female bassist named Erin Davis, Another girl playing a pan-flute named Isabella Mirette, a guitarist named Victor Ellis-Gasbaro, a drummer named Sean Carter, and a vocalist named Dallas Wolfe (no relation to Virginia). Their influences include Trillion Green, Flyleaf, Ani DiFranko, The B-52's, Anberlin, Live, and The Police. The genre they are generally classified under is folk-metal. They deviate a lot and are closer to alternitive or to creating their own genre altogether. They have incredibly crazy concerts, with a huge fan base of teenagers and young adults. I cannot describe the actual tunes, I suggest listening to Trillion Green to get a general idea. Listen to the other influences, and keep in mind that Dallas's voice sounds like a cross between the lead singer of Anberlin and the lead singer of Live. The lyrics rarely make sense and are generally rambles generated by Sean or Erin, and occasionally Dallas, Isabella, and Victor.
Here is a sample:

You’re Welcome

Yellow-red-blue-green-gray,

Bridges over fingertips,

Empty eyes hide secrets,

Feathers fly from broken wings,

Deserts flow to glowing seas,

Times change with every breeze.

Wonders open windows,

dreams scatter through.

There’s nothing to hear,

except, “You’re welcome,”

from me to you.

A crown made of eyes,

A city of dancers,

The flutter of lies.

Flowers tunnel under,

Searching for shelter,

Salt-shakers are glaciers,

But glaciers are gone.

Pupils know nothing,

And lenses disguise.

Wonders open windows,

dreams scatter through.

There’s nothing to hear,

except, “You’re welcome,”

from me to you.

Time clicks away,

And then winds you back.

Fingernails dig into grooves on the track.

Minutes and seconds, hours and days,

Fly; fly away in a golden-rose haze.

Smile and wave while your life’s spinning out;

Control is a broken chain, hesitate,

Turn away from

us and our,

Wonders open windows,

dreams scatter through.

There’s nothing to hear,

not a thing, not a sound,

nothing,

except, “You’re welcome,”

from me to you.

If anyone wants to come up with a tune for that, I'd love it. Thanks.

Reading List IV

2008-09-25T18:24:00.000-07:00

Ok, I'm sorry to those invisible people who care about the fact that there hasn't been a new reading list in a while. that's because I haven't finished reading most of the books I checked out. I forgot that with school and homework and other such things, I wouldn't have as much time to read. But I will do my best to post a half finished list and then edit with descriptions of the ones I haven't read yet when I'm finished with them. So....here goes!

1.Ironside, by Holly Black. If you were nice and read Valiant last week, then you know why I'm reccomending this one.

2. The Realm of Possibily, by David Levithan. This is a book of poems in different styles by different teenage characters over the course of maybe a year and all the stories are interwoven and we know I love that so yeah. Beautiful book.

3.The Coffin Quilt, by Ann Rinaldi. I love Ann Rinaldi. She writes brilliant historical fiction. But I haven't had time to read this one yet.

4. Witch Dreams, by Vivian Vande Velde. I haven't finished this book, but I love the author's name. It's so pretty.

5. Lemonade Mouth, by Mark Peter Hughes. Haven't read it yet.

6. Talk, by Kathe Koja. I love this book.

7. Behind You, by Jaqueline Woodson. I still need to read this one.

Seven song Playlist
1.There is No Mathematics to Love and Loss-Anberlin
2. Revolution-The Beatles
3.Friday Night-The Click Five
4.Mayday!!!- Flobots
5.New Routine-Fountains of Wayne
6.Allison Road- Gin Blossom
7.Birds- Kate Nash

Lost in thought (Aden's side)

2008-09-16T14:49:00.000-07:00

Dark corners and clutter; me. Looping lines of ink, swirls of smoke; me. One heart beating too fast and quiet sobs; me. Memories, exhaustion, regrets; me. A silent telephone, boiling coffee, and a scalded tongue; me. Bitter. Bitter. Bitter. Pain. Broken heart; me.

I know the room he’s sleeping in right now. I know which posters cover the walls. I know which artists he’d love to emulate and which bands he’s memorized lyrics and tunes from. I know where he stores used up sketch books and drawing pencils, in the top right hand drawer in his desk. I know that closet where his clothes are now instead of here. I know how he’s sleeping now, restless, waiting for a noise to wake him up, because he’s such a light sleeper. I know him.

I’m here in the apartment he used to live in with me, on this miserable looking purple futon, because we never did buy a real bed, did we? I haven’t cleaned up the place since he left. There’s a carpet of wrappers and ash on the floor. The electric bill was never paid this month, the lights don’t turn on, I lit a candle. I don’t leave here. I don’t want to.

The buzz is getting weaker. It’s getting harder and harder to keep it up. It keeps demanding more and more and I’m running out of ways to feed it. This buzz is all I’ve got now. It’s simultaneously keeping me alive and killing me; a paradox of confusion and irony defining my existence. I don’t believe that there’s someone up there deciding what happens here. I believe in luck and chance and I believe that it’s not supposed to make sense. I believe in love and I believe that I can love him and he can love me, but that us as a whole wasn’t necessarily meant to be. Not that one of us didn’t deserve the other or that we weren’t worthy or that we were the wrong people, but that we moved too fast, that we were in the wrong time, wrong place and it didn’t work. Oops.

I know he hated watching me like this, stoned and not there, just hang a Vacancy sign on my forehead. I know we fought, I know I yelled, I know I hit him and I know he wanted to hit back, but he didn’t. Sometimes he didn’t even try to block me and he let me punch him and I know he could’ve stopped me. And I know there were a million times when we screamed at each other and his eyes went from angry to hurt to just plain disappointed. All for me.

I am curled in a corner of a room we shared, watching my own demented smoke signals in the moonlight air. I am here and I am alone, but I wish he was here with me.
Good luck, goodbye, and good night.
Sweet dreams, babe.

Reading List III

2008-09-09T16:00:00.000-07:00

This week's reading list is really short, because I haven't had as much time to read. You know, school starting and all. So, let's get this show on the road.
1.The Sandman (series), by Neil Gaiman. Possibly the best graphic novels ever written. I can give no further praise than that. I started reading them when my art teacher suggested the most recent one to me last year. It's called Endless Nights. Each chapter is illustrated by a different artist.
2. A Room On Lorelei Street, by Mary E. Pearson. I read this about a year ago and forgot about it until I saw it in the library last week and remembered that it was a good book. Written entirely in third person limited, it followed one character in her story. I personally think that it ends too soon, but I advise reading the book instead of going along with my opinion.
3. The Year They Burned the Books, by Nancy Garden. Last year I wrote a research report about censorship, mainly classroom censorship in the USA. This book is set in a small town in Massachusetts and tells the story through the eyes of the high school's newspaper's editor in chief. The book deals mainly with censorship and the first amendment. Two of my favorite topics.
4.Valiant, by Holly Black. I'm pretty sure I mentioned this along with Ironside, but this was one of the books this week, so I suggest you read it again.
5. We are Quiet; We are Loud. This is yet another anthology, this time from "The best young writers and artists in America. I loved almost every story, but even better was the abundance of different styles and subject matter. Lots of poems, and a section of art and photos stuck right in the middle. I have almost two many favorites to count, but I liked A Prenuptial Agreement for Friendship by Nicole Mangione, Spark by Samuel Lansey, mathematical equation for a broken love triangle by Laura Hinkle, Architecture by Corry Wallace, I'm an American Too, Damnit! by Bill Kephart, Pray for Deliverance When the Ambulance Comes by Frankie Romano, and every single picture. That's basically it. This book is a must read, or at least the stories I listed are.
6. Talk, by Kathe Koja. I think this was on the list last time. I felt like rereading it.
7. The Opposite of Invisible, by Liz Gallagher. I haven't read this one yet.

So that's it. I'll be getting more books on thursday, so a new list should be up sometime next week.

Oh, and before I forget, here is your seven song playlist for the week.
1 Birds, by Kate Nash
2.Drilled a Wire Through My Cheek, by Blue October
3.Same Thing, by Flobots
4.Tired of Me, by Live
5.There's a Class for This, by Cute is What We Aim For
6.Helicopter, by The Feeling
7.I'll Keep Your Memory Vague, by Finger Eleven.

Have a nice week!

Punches

2008-09-02T21:10:00.000-07:00

“I didn’t know you came here too.”

“Just sometimes. You?”

“When I need to.”

“Nice. You wanna spar a little?”

“Sure, what style?”

Anything but kick-boxing. That’s from another time; another person. Glassy blue eyes, freckle covered skin, red hair, curls…Don’t think about that, don’t think about him. Thinking about him will make you think of Death or Loss. Loss will make you thing of another person- Pretty little face, cerulean hair, big gray eyes…Don’t think about those eyes. You think about those eyes and you’ll just see them raining tears and those tears will make you- Don’t think about that. Don’t think. Empty mind. Deep Breath. Calm down.

“Street fighting.”

“Gloves?”

“Yeah. Five hits wins.”

“Mat’s over there. Come on.”

Settle into the routine; Punch, miss. Punch, hit. Duck, swing. Win. Lose. Three rounds of five points. Win. Watch Salem breathe in and out. Watch him clasp you shoulder.

“Good fight, man, good fight. Let’s take a break.” Nod. Follow him to get a drink. Stop. Breathe. “So, what’s got you all worked up?”

“What makes you think there’s something?”

“You’re stressed. I can tell.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk?”

“You live with Oliver. There’s nothing I could say that you wouldn’t already know.”

“What makes you think I pay attention to anything he says?”

“Oliver’s mouth never shuts unless he’s sleeping.”

“And sometimes not even then…So…Dumitru?”

“…Yeah, Dumitru.”

“He’s a good kid. When’s that month over?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Ah. That explains it. Wanna go another round?”

“Nah. Could you just hold the bag for me?”

“Need to beat someone up?”

“Yes.”

Keep punching. Don’t Think. Don’t Think. Don’t Think. Don’t speak. Just keep hitting. Focus. Don’t think, don’t -blue hair, white skin- Don’t think –Punch -slender body, bony limbs, dark scars- Don’t think about those; don’t think about him –Punch -gray eyes, dark clouds, storm color, raining tears down porcelain cheeks…hunched over, shaking, sobbing, hurricane floods– Dear God, don’t think about that, don’t replay that scene –gray eyes, dark, darker, black, angry-hurt, lightning bolt glare half aimed at your head- Stop going back to that! Clear your brain; don’t think, don’t think, don’t think. Punch, one-two-three. Watch Salem grin. Punch- stars gliding over his calf, rainbow colors- Don’t think about drawing those; don’t think about his leg under your hand holding the needle. Don’t think about his eyes trusting you not to hurt him; don’t watch his trust crumble. Don’t remember him reaching for those little white pills. Don’t remember the sleepy gaze; don’t remember that he didn’t remember. Don’t remember the confused-bleary eyed-blurry-blinking, looking up at you, cuddling up next to you, not expecting what you’re about to say. Don’t think about him. Punch. Punch. Punch.

“Dude, the gym’s gonna close soon. You sure there’s nothing you wanna talk about?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just don’t let Oliver know you saw me.”

“In case you’re blind, deaf, and dumb, Oliver and I only speak to each other when we have something to yell at each other for.”

“And yet you’ve lived together for almost ten years.”

‘It’s-”

“Please don’t say ‘It’s Cuth Roen. I’m sick of people excusing stuff like that. The sky is blue; it’s Cuth Roen. The moon is made of cheese; it’s Cuth Roen. Get the picture?”

“Alright, fine. We both wouldn’t know what to do if we lived alone. It’s easier like this.”

Silence. You know you want to talk. Say what’s been crawling around your brain for six months, maybe more, almost eight months, the day you walked out and left him there and came home and he wasn’t there anymore. Say it.

“I miss him.”

“He misses you too.”

“I still love him.”

“He still loves you.”

“Then why’s it so hard?”

“Why would I know? Here. You’ve still got ten more minutes. Get a few more punches in.”

Breath; in-out. Think –soft hands, painted fingernails, feather light, bones like a birds, small fingers intertwined with yours. Fragile hand you don’t want to hold too hard because his bones must be hollow and he’ll break. Warm body curled up like a baby, lying next to you. Soft even breathing in your ear at night, in and out. You can’t hear the smoke when he breaths, only when he speaks. Think about him, but don’t think about that. Don’t think about that breathless roughened voice, still so young, so soft, don’t think about his voice telling you he loves you. Because then you’ll hear him ask why why why? over and over again.

Punch, one-two-three. Don’t think. Not yet.

lookit the little boy...he's all grown up.

2008-09-02T20:32:00.000-07:00

Yes, that's Dumitru. Yes, he looks demonic. Yes, the picture's even cooler in person. Also, i gots a webcomic, www.cuthroenbackstories.smackjeeves.com. it's cool too.

Reading List II

2008-08-29T17:22:00.000-07:00

These are the books you should be reading this week, because they are the books I was reading last week. And they're all books I love and check out from the library way more than is healthy. Seriously, some of these books are the reason I want to write books, because I want someone else to react to my work the same way I reacted to these authors. So...
1. Boy Meets Boy, by David Levithan. Yes, this was in my last reading list. I loved it enough to renew it and keep it another couple weeks. The story telling is brilliant and you believe in the town because the characters believe in it and basically, if you need a mildly dramatic, highly entertaining and extremely memorable book to pass the time with, I suggest this.
2. Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan. Can any of you stretch out one night into 183 pages of beautiful writing? Me neither. The story is different and every time I've read this book I've noticed something new. It sounds authentic for teenagers and that's difficult enough for people who really are teenagers. I love how the authors tied in the theme of the title (a playlist) with every chapter, keeping the music there for people who are like me and run on about 50% music, 20% food and 30% sleep. Or something like that. I personally think that there aren't that many teenagers who wouldn't read this book. The basic story is guy is in a band. Guy sees ex in crowd. Guy doesn't want ex to think he's still miserable. Guy asks weird looking girl sitting next to him to be his girlfriend for 5 minutes. Girl kisses him. The rest of the book is everything after that and I'm not giving it away. But doesn't that sound like a great story? I thought so too. It switches between two points of view and that just makes the whole thing even awesomer.
3. Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List, by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan. Same authors as the book above. Funny story; I read this book first, even though the other one was written first. Like the last book, it switches perspective, but this time it's between like twenty people (more like eight or something.) I liked it. My only issue was the bright yellow cover. The premise of the story is that Naomi and Ely are best friends. To keep from having stupid arguments over boys, they made a NO KISS LIST with all the guys they'll stay away from. then Ely kisses Naomi's boyfriend. What happens next? Read to find out.
4. Cupcake, by Rachel Cohn. If you've read Gingerbread or Shrimp, then this is the third book in that series. If you haven't, then you probably should. Warning, girly book. Really girly.
5.Talk, by Kathe Koja. Kit tries out for his school play so that he can 'escape from his own life and be a different person'. Unfortunately for him (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) events cause him to face who he is and accept that. I love how the author once again switches between points of view and ties in bits of the script for Talk, which is the name of the play.
6. Ironside, by Holly Black. Holly black is one of my favorite authors when it comes to magic and faeries and such. This is a sequel to both Tithe and Valiant, which ties both books together. I actually reccomend all three books, but this one is nice on it's own.
7. Cherry Heaven, by L. J. Adlington. The first thing that comes out of my mouth when someone asks what sort of books i don't like is "Sci-fi." But, when I read this futuristic themed book, I liked it. The way you tell a story is with characters you can believe in, who believe in what they're saying. I loved how each new chapter changed your understanding of the story, and how two paralel stories came together at the end to finish, but with a decent cliffhanger. (My other favorite thing is to prove that every story ends with a cliff-hanger, because you can always ask what happened next.)
8. Necessary Noise; Stories About Our Families as They Really Are. This books is an anthology and thus doesn't have one author. Anthologies are nice because there's always more than one story to read. My favorites in this book are, Necessary Noise by Emma Donoghue, A Family Illness by Joyce Carol Thomas, and Sailing Away by Michael Cart. Enjoy!
9. Jude, by Kate Morgenroth. This is my absolute favorite book of all time. It doesn't matter when I'm reading it, I'll say one more chapter and still not be able to put the book down. I don't think it matters what age or gender you are, this book is addictive. The amount of research the author must have put into authenticity is astounding. The book takes apart one human life and proves that no one is one dimensional, every person has complexities. Everyone has a past and that past will come back some day. I don't know where I heard this quote or something that sounds like it, but "If I have a pistol on the first page, that pistol better be there on the last page too." The author connected everything in this book, from begining to end. Just trust me on this and read the book. You'll love it.

So yeah, that's my reading list. Hope you all enjoy. Oh and while you're at it, go look at a collaboration blog I'm starting with my friend, Lucy (better known here as The YES) called 14 for the Future. (http://14future.blogspot.com) Thank, bye-bye!

i'm lucky

2008-08-21T20:25:00.000-07:00

I can't wait until saturday, when I'll probably have internet conection. And the beach.

Is this sad?

2008-08-15T21:22:00.000-07:00

Is it bad that i bought a new, white messenger bag with the intent to color on it in sharpie and now that part of it is done, I'm planning on spending a good amount of next week decorating the rest?

It's that time of year again, you know, the almost end of summer? School starts September 2nd for me (Why did labor day have to be so early?!!!WHY!!) So I've all ready gone school supply shopping because I needed new note books. (Remember the buy me new notebooks fund? Well turns out that no one cared enough to contribute and I had to disguise them as school supplies to actually get them.) One note book is all ready decorated. It's pretty and orange and it had the lyrics to Stand up by Flobots and a demented American flag on the front. The back is covered in masking tape and quotes from yours truly. I'm very, very proud of my work.

In other recent news, I've been typing like crazy for the past few weeks and I can proudly say that Cuth Roen Part III; Dead End, is typed and finished with. I've been happy dancing since I finished it on Thursday. I love how it turned out, I love how it ended, I love everything about it. You'd think that this would mean that I'm completely done with this book, but you underestimate my perfectionism. I'm so annoyed at how inadaquate part two reads. I actually hate it. I'm this close to scrapping everything I have and completely rewriting the whole thing. Actually, that's probably what I'm going to do. But i'm going to take a week or two off from the main story and focus on some back stories and extra scenes, like Vows. I'm working on a lot of character perspective, because all of my characters (with the exception of maybe Dumitru, because I've written so much for him) need some fleshing out. Currently, I'm working on developing the character of Aden, Edur's ex who OD'd, because I need to figure out how he impacted Edur and he can't just be a ghost lurking in the shadows, after all the messing around he did with Edur's brain. My next few projects after that would be the girls, because I feel like i neglect them in my stories.
My other project that has nothing to do with Cuth Roen is a short story (By short we mean slightly shorter than Cuth Roen was) about a girl named Morgan Smith (nicknamed Mimi), who is writing in a journal as part of a school project. Her best friend, Chris (Christopher to the rest of the world) recently commited suicide and Mimi's still in mourning. In the begining, she doesn't want to follow the assignment, she writes two posts in two months, ranting and moping until she realizes that she doesn't want to fail. Then, one day in the cemetary, she meets Tam, who...I'm not telling you all of the story. I haven't decided quite what will happen yet. But I like Mimi. Mostly because diary format is fun to write.

Next week, Ill be at my dad's house all week and I probably won't have an internet connection, but anyway, to anyone who cares, here's my plans.

1. I need hair cut.

2. Back to School Clothes Shopping. this should be a national holiday. And the clothes should be free.

3. Get my ears repeirced. I have three holes in each lobe, plus one in my right cartilidge. I used to have four in both lobes, but the lady made the holes to close to the edge of my ear and i had to let them close up, but now I'm getting them repeirced.

4. SLEEP. Seriously, typing up Cuth Roen kicked my ass.

Good night

2008-08-11T08:18:00.000-07:00

I have revised my opinion of The Candy Darlings. It eventually figured out how to be interesting. But the first few chapters...sigh. Oh well. Nothing is completely perfect.

this is an out take chapter for Cuth Roen, It will never appear in the book, because i didnt write it for the book. i wrote it too stand alone.

2008-08-07T21:35:00.000-07:00

Vows: Lost Stories

“Hey, Edur?” Dumitru stood in the doorway of Edur’s study. Edur was working on a painting. The wedding was tomorrow.

“Yes, Princess?” Edur asked, looking up. “Come in.”

Dumitru walked in and plopped on the couch. “So, you know how we’re getting married tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“And how if I wasn’t so shy, we’d be able to say vows we thought up instead of the ones that come with the ceremony?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, um, here.” Dumitru held out a crumpled piece of paper. “It’s something I wrote a while ago and it’s what I would say if I thought I could handle it.”

Edur took the paper and slowly unfolded it. He read it slowly, knowing that Dumitru was watching his every move. He didn’t read out loud; knowing that he wasn’t supposed to. He knew when a while ago was and wasn’t about to ask.

“The first time I saw you, you were standing next to my best friend and I thought maybe you were with him, but then I saw this look on your face that made me think you didn’t like him very much. So I hoped. You walked with him to one of the back corner tables and he beckoned me over. While you weren’t paying attention, I got a much clearer look at you. You covered up a lot. Cuth Roen’s weather isn’t cold in May. Nowhere close. But you were wearing jeans. I was too, but that’s different. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt. The sleeves were pushed up, probably absentmindedly, and it seemed like you were trying to hide something, but what? Then I saw the ink. Not mindless tribal designs, but beautiful pictures that I wanted to see more of. When you reached up to shove messy hair behind your ear, I saw the stretched out lobes, and the red plastic plugs, something else it looked like you were hiding and I wondered who you were hiding from. And why. Then I saw the birds in flight on your neck. They were beautiful. They belonged there, a part of you. Tattoos on you weren’t decoration, they were finishing a picture. I sat down in a chair I’d brought with me even though the two of you were sitting in a booth. I didn’t want to be too close to either one of you, even though something about you was pulling me like a magnet. Then I saw your eyes. They were so strong, so much color, so much force. I was so used to shades of grey, to browns. Never green. Never emeralds.

And that’s when I got it. It wasn’t magnets at all. It was just the little grey moth.

And the irresistible green flames.”

“It’s silly, isn’t it?” Dumitru asked.

“Not at all,” Edur said. “Do you still want to know who I was hiding from?”

“Kinda. But I think I know.”

“So who do you think I was hiding from?”

“Partially from Aden. But mostly from yourself.”

“Close. I was only hiding from myself.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. But I didn’t want to be wrong.”

Edur grabbed a folded piece of paper from his desk and sat next to Dumitru. “It’s funny you showed me that today.” He handed his paper to Dumitru. “I had something like that too, what I’d say if you could stand to hear it. Something I wrote a while ago, and I was going to give you tomorrow after the wedding. But I guess you can see it now.”

He watched while Dumitru read his version, watched Dumitru’s lips move silently as he sounded out the words. He knew that it would take a while for Dumitru to finish reading. But they had time. He could wait.

“At first glance I notice one of the smallest people I have ever seen. Not only because of his height or apparent lack there of. He’s even smaller than he would be because of how little space he takes up. Walking around, he slips through a crowd in a second. Sitting in a chair, he’s sitting on the edge, trying to take up as little of the space available. At second glance I see paper colored skin, a canvas, if you will, and hair like neon paint. A long ponytail accompanied by some wispy bits near his face is colored a garish purple and orange. I see a cigarette tucked behind his ear. It’s one of the cheapest brands you can buy. Most people who smoke that brand are too addicted to notice the lack of quality. Or they just don’t care. I wonder what his story is. At third glance, I’m staring into storm cloud grey eyes. You don’t see grey eyes all that often in Kaltro. That’s a trait specific to Ismus and the Dragon Lands. But his eyes are the wrong shape and the wrong size. They look like he should be Sonigan. Maybe he is. How would I know? At fourth glance I see his mouth tilt into a smile. I hear a voice like a tarnished silver bell and a soft-but-rough voice. It sounds like mixing gravel and glass. He speaks and he jokes and he laughs and I’m surprised I’m able to respond, since all I want to do is listen. At fifth glance, I see his beautiful face. And I’m in love.”

Dumitru leaned over to kiss Edur. It was just a tiny peck on the lips, before he leaned back into the couch.

“Thank you,” he whispered. And then he grinned. “Do you still want to know what the story about that cigarette was?”

“I guess so,” Edur said.

“Oliver decided it was my month to pay the bigger portion of the rent,” Dumitru said. “It was cheap cigarettes or no cigarettes.”

“Not that great of a story,” Edur laughed.

“Nope.” Edur leaned over to kiss Dumitru. He wrapped his arms around him and just let Dumitru rest his chin on his shoulder. No more kisses, just sitting there, leaning together.

“Ready to get married?” Edur asked after a bit.

“Only if you are.”

Reading List

2008-08-07T17:26:00.000-07:00

Ok, here's a question for all of you. If, when I am walking normally, I either stare at my feet or the sky, and I don't walk into people, then how am I supposed to walk into someone while reading a book? Either way I'm still not paying attention.

But on a happier note, here's the books I'm going to read this week.

1. Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan. I love this guys writing style; it's just like he's talking, which is a brilliant quality for a writer. Yes, I've all ready read this book, but it's just awesome, so I'm going to read it again.

2. Wasteland by Francesca Lia Block. Great book. Confused the hell out of me. Kept switching voices. Good book, still. I must love to be confused.

3 and 4. The Order of the Poison Oak and Splitscreen, by Brent Hartinger. Once again, a writer who sounds like they're talking. Another set of books that I have read, but I love. I do that when I'm at the library. I pick out a few books I've all ready read and a few I haven't. That way I'm garunteed something good to read for that week.

5. And One For All by Theresa Nelson. Never read it.

6. David and Jonathan by Cynthia Voigt. ditto.

7. Heart and Soul by Liz Rosenberg. Once again, haven't read it.

8. City of Stars by Mary Hoffman. I read the book this is supposedly a sequel for.

9. The Candy Darlings by Christine Walde. Love the title, but the first few chapters aren't as promising.

That's it. I'll tell you if any of the new ones are worth reading.

Annoying

2008-07-27T12:59:00.000-07:00

Ok, so for the past two weeks I've been at art camp. There was this girl, who I met once and have now run into twice since. She always looks different, so I never recognize her. Anyway, on Friday, the last day, some one brought in cheezits(?) and white tea to celebrate. It had come up the day before that I was vegan. So, when the snacks were brought in, it immediately became important that I eat the cheezits. I thought this was rude. I wasn't trying to force anything on them, so what right did they have to pester me about my choices? I shouldn't have to defend myself about this. After a few hours, it was just annoying. And I got sick of it pretty quickly.
Here's the deal. This whole vegan thing started because my sister and I made a bet. But that was just an excuse to get me started on something I've thought of doing for a long time but never had the nerve to try on my own. I want to be vegan because the way the animal product industry is run is corrupt and wrong and I don't want any part in it. I have nothing against people who eat animal products. I was vegetarian my whole life before I decided to become vegan. If you want to eat meat, dairy, etc., have fun. I'm not asking you to change, so please, do me the same favor. But, I happen to have done my research. Back in the fall I had to write a research paper and my topic was "Is Meat Healthy For You?"
I found out a long list of medical ailments directly related to meat consumption. Because I don't eat meat, I'm less susceptible to heart disease. I'm more likely to out live all those people who say they are stronger for eating meat. That's not true. If you are stronger than me it is probably because you bother to exercise more often than I do. Oh well. Great. So I'm lazy, big deal. I was lazy before I was vegan. It's not related. Also, studies have proven that the human digestive system bears more resemblance to an herbivore's, as opposed to a carnivore's or even an omnivore's. Wait, aren't humans supposed to be omnivores? Funny. A carnivore's digestive system is designed so that meat passes through quickly. It takes a long time for meat to pass through a human digestive system, about four times longer than it should. That's what causes all the medical issues, like heart disease. Humans were herbivores before they started hunting and I can honestly tell you that it's not that hard to go back.
I can also say that I feel a lot healthier because I stopped eating things like cheese and gelatin filled candy all the time. I've been walking a lot more than usual and it's not as tiring as it used to be. I feel happier, in a way.
I can't give you sources for the medical information I used. As I said, I wrote that paper back in the fall. But if anyone wants to Google "is meat bad for you," the first result had some good information. Since I don't think anyone except my mom and the friends I yell at to read it, I don't know why I'm even bothering, but, oh well.
This post had a point, besides lecturing and here it is. People have enough problems being remotely different in this world. Race, gender, and sexual orientation are common subjects used to harass people. That's already ridiculous, immature, and quite honestly, a little stupid. But when we start harassing people over things they have chosen to have be part of their lives, it's just crazy and almost beyond stupid. No one should care if I choose to dye my hair blue, wear any color of the rainbow, or not eat animal products. No one should care about the things that aren't choices, either, but I'm not trying to save the world. I'm trying to prove a point. A choice is a choice is a choice is a choice. Being vegan is my choice and if I say I don't want to eat the cheezits, that's my business, my choice, and you should've just left me alone the first time I said no.

2008-07-11T07:10:00.000-07:00

As we speak, I am creating a website
unfortunately, I really don't know how to do that much and thus it's kinda silly. but the point is, i know how. Sort of.

This is the intro for the second book

2008-07-09T10:11:00.000-07:00

The audience files back into the theater. They expect to see act one. Some have seen it before, while others have no idea what is going on. Nervous excitement crackles through the crowd as they settle in for the show. But as the lights go off they notice something strange. The scene on the screen is not the setting for the beginning of act one. There is a sign in the center that says, "When traveling on the road of life, pack light and bring friends, on a journey that shall never end." The ones who have seen act one before remember this quotation and whisper amongst themselves. What could possibly be happening?
Suddenly the letters on the sign rearrange themselves. Letter's appear and disappear until the sign reads, "ACT ONE ENDS." Everyone stares at the screen, waiting for more. The screen darkens. The theater has been submerged in a pool of black ink. Not a sound can be heard. The audience waits for ACT TWO to begin.

This is a semi creepy discription of my grandmother's house

2008-07-09T09:56:00.001-07:00

A rocking chair creaks back and forth on a wooden porch. There is no one sitting in the chair. There is no wind. You are afraid to sit in the chair so you sit on the porch steps and stare at the dying yard and the empty street. An army of ants marches in red columns past your feet and for the first time today you are grateful for wearing sneakers. Stale, humid air dulls your mind. you forget why you came here in the first place. All you can focus on is the fading light. You feel a drop of water hit your hand. Suddenly the screen door bangs open behind you and you realize that the front door has been open the entire time. You enter without thinking, acting only on a desire to avoid the rain.
Now you are in a small main room. You see two doors leading out, but for now you are content to explore this space. You sit on an old couch. The fabric feels strange, as if it should have been rough to the touch, but the years have worn it soft. The cushions sag under you, but only slightly. The room is lit with antique lamps. It is not bright, but it is brighter than outside. All around, china figurines and old fashioned photographs are on display. You find the photographs familiar, but every time you try to look closer, the faces fall out of focus. It seems strange, but you do not dwell on it. You notice an old TV crackling on and off. Two antenna stick straight into the air. Their ends are coved in tin foil. You suppose that is to help the reception, but does not seem to be doing anything.
You feel hungry, even though you are positive you just ate, though you cannot remember exactly what or when. You flip a coin to pick a door, since either could be a kitchen. You have chosen wrong, or rather, the coin has chosen wrong. This room has a bed. You leave to try the other door.

I take it back

2008-07-09T09:53:00.000-07:00

Being vegan isn't hard. All you have to do is be creative. I think I'm going to stick with this for more than a week. That and i discovered VEGAN CHEESE CAKE

2008-07-07T10:16:00.001-07:00

Day 1 of veganism= me getting to eat fruit and cerial (?) and that's it. That's not very promising for the rest of the week.

You know those days...

2008-07-03T16:24:00.000-07:00

When you're tired for no reason and for some stupid reason you get upset and you don't know why and you have no idea how to fix it and you're on the phone and you're talking to your boyfriend with self esteem issues and he starts to feel bad and you're getting pissed off cause for once you want to be the only one who needs to be made happy again and you don't know how to say that nicely and after you stop crying and the tears are drying on your face and you both have nothing to say to each other and you decide to hang up and now you're staring at a computer screen wondering if maybe you should call back, but then you remember that if you didn't have anything to say earlier, then what would you have to say now other than sorry, and what are you sorry for any way?

disclaimer-rant not fueled by PMS, i swear.

It's ok, i figured it out

2008-07-02T21:26:00.000-07:00

The reason I wanted to have two names is because variety is fun. Or because I'm weird and random and have no life. Or that. But oh well. Having two names is fun. Oh and guess what? I'm gonna be vegan for a week. Because I'm crazy and think I can last a week without starbursts and cheese. I have this deal with my sister that whoever can't stay vegan for a whole week has to clean our entire room. I'm sort of scared both ways. Because my OCD will not allow her to touch my stuff and I'm afraid of touching her stuff. Anyway, wish me luck!

This is what happens when I'm bored.

2008-07-01T19:38:00.000-07:00

I now have an actual profile. And a name. Sort of. And now i must create this lovely split personality I supposedly have. And figure out why i have two names. This could take a while

WARNING- this post will probably be really long because of some pent-up ranting

2008-07-01T18:34:00.000-07:00

So, yeah, i haven't posted in a really long time due to not having access to a computer for a week and a half and because of school and all that stuff. So here we go.

First off; School's out. That means I have generally unlimited free time (until I get shipped to day camp. As in, until next week.) Which means I will probably spend a lot of time writing. Which means I will finish Cuth Roen this summer. Which means I will throw a giant party. I wish. (This means someone should throw me a party, fyi.) So yeah, in case anyone was wondering about my life and I doubt you were, that's what's going on.

Now, on to the ranting;

PUNK ROCK...Flea Market.
Do these words go together to you? No? Really? That's funny, cause just this past weekend, I went to one and it was really awesome. There was so much stuff, cds, records, clothes, jewelry, etc. Anything, really. But of course, with a punk rock theme. I got so much awesome stuff, like disco ball earrings and a sweatshirt I wish it was cold enough to wear. And this beautiful framed photograph of this girl kind of hunched over inside what looked like a book shelf, with a globe on the shelf opposite. I don't know how to explain the amazingness. I can't wait. because I was told that there will be another one in two weeks. (Note to all my friends, you will be dragged to this if I can manage it.) Seriously, I would have loved to spend more time going over everything there, especially with someone who actually knew the music. Because unfortunately, I don't listen to that much punk rock. I'd love to, but I'd also like some general recommendations. The only one I got was for Social Distortions, which I really liked, especially the song All the Answers.
"1,2,3,4,5,6,7,
You won't see these kids in heaven
Colored hair and funny clothes
They are the menace of today
And they won't listen to what you say
But don't forget that they're your future
Chorus:
They're loud, they're obnoxious and proud
They're unconscious
But don't forget that they're your future
They're loud, they're obnoxious they're proud
They're unconscious
But don't forget that they're your future
These kids are accused for all the violence
You can't even keep them silent
You thought you had all the answers
You won't be able to make them pay
Cause they're not gonna fade away
Don't forget that they're your future
Chorus
Don't forget they're your future
And you thought you had all the answers"

I don't know why, but this song is just awesome. But that's enough gushing for today. On to my next rant.

Where is it written in Punk Rock law that if you are male, you must wear tight pants? I'm not complaining, I just think it's amusing. Just saying. And I'm a little curious if there is an actual rule somewhere. It seemed like every guy there was wearing girls jeans. It was really funny. But my other question to these guys is "How were you not sweating to death?" That place was packed so tightly that i was sweating in a tee-shirt and shorts. It was so hot that people were going outside into the ninety degree weather to cool down. So how were these guys in impossibly tight jeans not dying? How?! I have absolutely no idea, but it was strange, either way.

After this, i went to the pool. I get bored easily, and i don't enjoy swimming all that much so after a while, I got out and started writing. My friend, The FIERCE (no, it's not Cristian Siriano. It's one of his fans. Its my friend from the top hat+teal rose incident) got out of the pool too and we started talking and a question I'd been having for weeks (ever since my brother saw a Nebraska license plate while we were in Texas) Here's the question. "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENS IN NEBRASKA??????!!!!!!" Seriously, what? I want to know. The FIERCE, unfortunately, did not know the answer either. So later at dinner, while we were eating Chinese Food, it was decided that there are seven people in Nebraska. (Because four aren't enough, obviously.) And that they raise mini cows and grow mini-corn. Haven't you ever wondered where Mini corn comes from? Well now you know. It's from Nebraska.

(To anyone actually from Nebraska, forgive me. Please feel free to make fun of my home state as much as you want. It's not that hard. Our president was born there too.)

So, thats basically it. I'm running low on rants and feel the need to save them for another day.

Until my next post,
I WANT MORE SUGAR

(or souls. souls work too.)*

*This my dear friends, is called a joke. And a bad one at that.

2008-06-06T05:08:00.000-07:00

Um, to anyone that cares, the third book is on its way to getting finished. I've actually written the epilogue and i'm working on getting to the end. this thing is too long.

Fear

2008-06-02T19:25:00.000-07:00

Everyone is scared of something. It doesn't matter who you are. Everyone is scared. Even me. Even you. The worst bit is that sometimes you're afraid to admit what you're afraid of. And no one takes the time to figure out that. They don't realize that avoidance is almost always fueled by fear. And that almost no one admits when their afraid of something. Not for any logical reason. Just good old fashioned paranoia. Nothing more and nothing less.

I'm being productive. What is wrong with me?

2008-05-19T10:34:00.000-07:00

"One's temper is like a fire; it becomes destructive when it is out of control."
-Proverbs, 25:28

Usually, when my teacher tries to force us to write a journal entry based around a pre-picked quote, I ignore the assignment. Today, I decided to write, but to connect the quote to my life+my character's life, instead of only my life. Here's what I came up with from todays quote. If I repeat myself, ignore it.

I know that i have a temper. For the most part, I can control my temper, unless the situation involves my brothers. As a writer, I supposedly slip my own traits into the minds of my characters. Case is point; Salem's anger issues.
Salem gets very angry over very simple matters, mostly involving other people, namely his father and his half-brother. He also has extreme difficulty dealing with people such as Oliver, who thrive on being annoying and laughing at others. Salem does not take criticisms well, and he does not tolerate being called a liar.
Salem's temper is portrayed through moments of violence, anger, and self destruction. It is, in a sense, a magnification of my own anger and my own dislike of criticism. The difference, is that I do not let my anger get out of control/ For the most part, Salem has no problem losing his control. He barely had any to start with.

That is all. I just needed to prove that I am able to be productive with assignments. Mission accomplished.

Lack of Substance/ List of Awesomeness (Redone)

2008-05-16T09:02:00.000-07:00

1. Clarinets
2. Swimming (i dont agree...)
3. Roller Coasters
4. Birds
5. Canada
6. Bunny!
7.triangles
8. soccer
9. Shiny things
10. Umbrellas
11. The crazy people bored enough to supply the stuff on this list and finally...

12. SUGAR

2008-05-09T08:24:00.000-07:00

would you eat raw sugar?

Guest Post: The Poet. He = awesome!!!!

2008-04-29T09:08:00.000-07:00

Hi there! I'm the Poet...woo hoo!

To help you guys know me, I made a little poem (obviously).

A Psalm of Life (remixed)

By The Poet

Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime.
And departing leave behind us,
Footprints on the sands of time.

Footprints that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again!

Let us then be up and doing,
with a heart for any fate!
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learning to labor and wait!

That is quite an interesting poem...no? I made it up in like, 5 minutes. Visit more at the website links at the bottom of the page.

HINT, HINT! WINK, WINK! NUDGE, NUDGE! SAY NO MORE, SAY NO MORE!

KNOW WHAT I MEAN? KNOW WHAT I MEAN?

2008-04-29T09:05:00.000-07:00

Thanks to The Poet for shrinking my picture. The Jello Snorter (aka the YAY) Is annoying but oh well. Thanks for being here and bothering me.

and for fixing my picture

Random scene during the break up

2008-04-29T06:10:00.000-07:00

"That seat taken?" Dumitru looked up. Miche stood in front of him. Dumitru shook his head. Miche sat next to him on the the park bench. "Whatcha doing?"
"Just-I don't know, reminiscing." Dumitru hugged his knees to his chest. His hair wasn't quite long enough to cover the sad look on his face.
"Is that healthy?" Miche asked. Dumitru rolled his eyes and shrugged. Miche sighed. "What were you reminiscing about?"
"Oh...you know, stuff." Dumitru blushed.
"I bet I can guess the name of 'stuff'," Miche said.
"Please don't," Dumitru begged. "Some things hurt."
"I guess they do," Miche said. "I guess it's just gonna stay bitter-sweet."
"Huh?"
"Well, I'd say it's gotta be bitter-sweet, because I'm sure the memories you're thinking of were good 'cause i saw you smiling when I walked over. But then I'm sure remembering the good things makes what's happened even worse," Miche said. "See? Bitter-sweet."
"I guess so," Dumitru said. "I was kinda just remembering a lot of times here, this bench."
"Make-out memories?" Miche asked. Dumitru shook his head.
"More like just remembering how good it felt to be held," Dumitru said sadly. "How much easier it is to sleep in someone else's arms."
"Does someone need a hug?" Miche asked.
"Not from you," Dumitru said.
"Hey! I give good hugs!" Miche said. Dumitru laughed.
"I'm sure you do," he said. "But trust me, I don't want a hug from you. I want one from him."
"I know," Miche said. "What's that on your ankle?"
"What, this?" Dumitru rolled up his pant leg. Seven stars were scattered on the skin near his ankle. They were small, but each one was colored a different shade of the rainbow. "They're pretty, aren't they?"
"Yeah." Dumitru let the pant leg drop again, covering the stars. "He did them, didn't he?"
"Duh. Who else would I let near me with a needle?" Dumitru asked, laughing.
"You miss him?"
"More than he'll ever know."

new backgroundpicture

2008-04-27T13:59:00.000-07:00

i drew it a few days ago. i like it. it has absolutely nothing to do with cuth roen, but then again, neither did the other one. so yeah, that's basically it.

on a side note, would anyone be interested in a webcomic backstory? i have this idea...i think i can draw it.

also, does anyone know how to make the picture smaller?

He needed a top hat

2008-04-21T09:08:00.000-07:00

with a teal rose.

you weren't there so obviously this makes no sense, but basically me and a new friend went window shopping. We almost got hit by three different cars. So we joked that they were playing the "hit the pedestrian" game. Then we started playing the "who is being the most obnoxious person today" game. the winners were;

5. The guy with the awesome brightly colored plaid shorts.
4. The guy doing tricks with a bike
3. the guy who was giving a girl a ride on his handle-bars in the middle of the street.
2. The large group of people walking in the middle of the street.
1. This one guy on a too small bike with curly hair and no shoes on. he was also riding in the middle of street. he needed a top hat.

with a teal rose.

Yet another installment of the backstory

2008-04-16T18:01:00.001-07:00

I’ve been back at work for a little over a month now. I’ve been eating breakfast (Salem and I figured out that it has to be liquid or fruit or both for me to keep it down). Work has been a little easier, since I seem to only get customers who barely eat, so I don’t have as much to carry. I’m getting worried, though. Austin’s been staring at me and it completely freaks me out. I know how his mind probably works. I’m Oliver’s friend, so if Oliver’ll do what he does, then so will I. That’s not even close to the truth. Even so, Austin’s eyes seem to linger on my every move. Every time I return to the kitchen with an order, every smoke break, even when I’m walking home I can feel his gaze. I haven’t told anyone yet. I’m not sure Oliver would listen, not after what Salem said. I don’t want to lose this job. That doesn’t mean I have to sleep with Austin. As long as I don’t acknowledge it, everything will be ok, right?

Wrong. Today, when I walk in, I feel him appraise me, as if calculating my worth, taking in every insignificant detail. Mentally, I review my outfit. Skinny jeans that are still too baggy, a belt, an old tee shirt of Oliver’s, and my beat up sneakers; It’s nothing to brag about. I look more like a ten year old today than I ever have before. Austin is smiling and suddenly I remember how young Oliver looked just a year ago. He looked a little like…me. That seems to be his type. Suddenly I’m scared. I wish I didn’t fit that type, but it’s not really fixable, now is it? Thank god, Austin’s stopped his examination.

I take the one pill that should get me through a seven hour shift. Immediately a familiar numbness spreads through my bones. I stash my bag next to one of the waitress’s in the hidden cupboard we have for that very reason. My bag is especially important, since it houses the rest of my Zadae pills. They’re locked up in a little silver pill box that only I have the key for. Zadae pills are EXPENSIVE.

My shift goes by quickly and uneventfully. I can feel the first pill wearing off as the clock clicks closer to four. I hang up my apron and go to get my bag as soon as my shift is finally over. Digging through-I hope I’m imagining this-but I can’t find my pill box. I’m freaking out inside my head. The numbness is almost gone and I HURT so bad.

“Looking for this?” Shit. I turn around to see Austin’s grinning face. My pill box is in his hand. He’s holding it out to me, but it’s above my head, out of my reach.

“Give them back,” I say. I don’t want this to be happening. I just want my goddamn pills.

“Or what?” he teases.
. He’s got me backed against a wall. He’s taller than Oliver, taller than Salem, even. He tower’s over me. I’m terrified. I don’t know what he has planned for me. I just want my pills and I want to go home.
“Just please, Austin, give them back.” I hate begging, but I will beg if I have to. He just laughs. I’m so scared. He’s bigger, he’s older, he’s stronger. Whatever happens, I don’t have a choice. I’m helpless here.
“Why should I?” he asks. He pockets my pill box. “You’ve got some good shit here. Looks pretty strong for some one your size.” Of course they’re strong. Those pills were enough to knock me out a couple years ago.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask. I’m trying to find a way out. As if he can read my mind, he grabs my shoulders, pinning me in place.
“Why not?” he asks. I wish I couldn’t feel anything right now. He swoops in and in less than a second, his mouth is over mine. He tongue is shoving its way past my teeth. I feel sick. I’m paralyzed, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. I stand here, motionless as his hands roam over my body. Suddenly, they’re at my waist, my belt, my zipper. I try to push him away, to scream, to fight back, but it’s useless. He smothers my cries with his lips. I close my eyes and let the world disappear. Hopefully, when I get back, this will all be over.

2008-04-13T14:50:00.000-07:00

ITS FINISHED.

(if you dont know what i'm talking about, then....i dont know. Just celebrate for me.)

IT'S FINALLY DONE

2008-04-02T10:15:00.000-07:00

FOR ANY OF MY STORIES< GO BACK AND FIND THE FIRST ONE AND READ FROM THERE. OTHERWISE IT WON'T MAKE SENSE

i thought that would be rather obvious

installment #3 of the Backstory

2008-03-31T14:33:00.000-07:00

“Dumitru, I need you to eat. You’re killing yourself.” I look up at Oliver from my position on the couch. He looks really big right now. He’s also spinning. I haven’t gotten off the couch in two days. It’s been a week and a half since I last ate. I can’t really focus at all. Oliver’s right, I need to eat. But my stomach feels like it’s shrunk down to the size of one of my pills. I don’t think anything would fit in it.

“I can’t.” My voice sounds like sandpaper. “Just a drink, please.”

“Right, how about a smoothie?” he asks. “It’s just fruit, basically. Here, drink.” He hands me this Styrofoam cup with a lid and a straw. It’s not as scary as I thought it would be. I take a tentative sip.

“Thank you,” I say. I take another sip.

“So, will you please never do this again?” he asks. He sits in one of our arm chairs.

“Do what?” I ask. Another Oliver sigh.

“Will you please never starve yourself like that?” he asks. “What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I say. “I just don’t like food.”

“That’s not healthy or normal,” he says. I shrink. Great, he thinks I’m a freak now. “No, don’t do that. Sit up. We’re going to work something out. I’m not gonna suddenly force you to eat at every meal. I’m not even going to demand that you eat a normal amount. But you are going to eat something every day. You are going to take care of yourself for once. I can’t be the only one doing that.”

“I know,” I say. “I know I’m messed up. Just don’t give up on me, please.”

“I’m not giving up,” he says, “Quite the opposite, actually. I’m just trying to figure out the problem. You’re fifteen years old. If you lived anywhere else, you’d be in school. You’d have friends that are your own age. You’d probably be healthy. Ever wonder what would have happened if your dad actually married your mom? You’d be in Sonig right now. You’d have a normal life.”

“How do you know that I wouldn’t have gotten what I have here there?” I ask. “How do you know that my real father wasn’t just as bad as Zephryn?”

“I don’t,” he says. “But, you would have had a normal life. You would have gotten a fucking education, for starters.”

“Education’s not for everyone,” I argue. “Look at Salem.”

“Actually, Salem graduated from Cuth Roen’s public school two years after he got here. He was sick of his family, but he still wanted to go to school,” snaps Oliver. “Sometimes I wish I’d done the same.”

“You learned all that stuff from your mom anyway,” I say. “We both did. We live in Cuth Roen. You take what you get.”

“Any of the times I was babysitting you, we could’ve gone to school,” he insists. Now is my turn to sigh. We both would’ve hated school and he knows it. I tell him so. “So?” he asks. “I still could’ve been a better friend or brother or whatever.”

“This isn’t your fault,” I say. “It never will be.”

“I’ll still blame myself if you die,” he says. “I’ll always think that I could’ve done more.” God, Oliver, did you have to say that? He’s telling me that what I was like about my mother, he’d be about me. If that’s not emotional blackmail, I don’t know what is. “I’m not going to die,” I say. “I’m not.”

“Then prove it,” he says. “Prove me wrong.”

“Ok, then I will,” I say. “I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that, you realize?” he says.
“I know,” I say. I hand back the half finished smoothie. “I’m done.”

“No you’re not,” he says. Damn him for knowing me so well. I just want to go back to sleep. I want everything to go away. Despite my promise, I’m not really ready to change. I’m still sick. I don’t know how to fix me. I don’t really want to. “Whatever. Go back to sleep.” He leaves the cup on the coffee table and walks away.

I curl up again. My bones protest the movements. I accidentally fall off the couch. My shoulder bangs into the table before my head hits the wood floor. I blank out, oblivious to everything.

I wake up back on the couch. Salem is standing near me. “Are you ok?” he asks. I’m surprised. I wasn’t aware that Salem’s voice could hold compassion. I shake my head and immediately regret the movement. I have a headache that would rival Salem’s worst hangover. I reach my hand up to touch my head. At least nothing is bleeding. My shoulder hurts though. “You fell,” he informs me. “I walked in and you were all sprawled out on the floor. It almost looked like you weren’t breathing. You’re lucky it wasn’t a few inches closer to the table. You would’ve cut your head open.”

“Thank you,” I say. He shrugs.

“You’re not that hard to lift,” he says. “It’s no problem.”

“Um, Salem?” I ask.

“What?”

“Could you not tell Oliver about this?”

“As long as you don’t tell Oliver that I intend to get drunk out of my mind tonight.”

“Like he doesn’t,” I snort. Salem laughs.

“You have a point,” he says. “But it doesn’t mean he won’t give me a hard time. So we’re clear?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Oh, and a word of advice.”

“What?”

Finish that smoothie. You’ll be glad you did.”

“Why?”

“Cause you know Oliver as well as I do. As soon as you get better, he’ll move on to a new project. You both need to get out of this stupid pattern. Maybe his new project will involve him getting a new job.”

“What do you care? It pays the bills.” Now I sound like Oliver.

“I don’t care about the money. It’s disgusting what he’ll do. I don’t want him to keep hurting himself like this. I don’t care what he does, but money’s not important. I can pay our rent without what he makes.”

“Really?” Oliver’s in the room now. “Why do both of you care? It’s my freaking body, my goddamn life. I can do whatever the hell I want.”

“And you really want to be a plaything for people you don’t know?” asks Salem. “You want to be a puppet?”

“I’m not a plaything,” Oliver isn’t shouting yet, but he’s close. So is Salem. “I’m my own goddamn person and I’ll do as I fucking please. It’s not your business to tell me otherwise.”

“Yes it is, if I ever want to respect myself,” retorts Salem. “You’ve sold yourself to so many people that it’s amazing you still think you have a self. What sort of example are you setting for that kid? Do you want to know why he won’t change? It’s because YOU won’t.”

“I don’t want to deal with this right now,” He says. It’s now that I realize he has his Olivia make-up and clothes on. He grabs his jacket and is about to walk out the door.

“Where are you going?” asks Salem.

“Not that it’s your business, but I have a client I need to see.” He turns, about to walk away.

“Which one?” asks Salem. He’s glaring at the back of Oliver/Olivia’s head.

“Austin,” he snaps. I let out an involuntary cry. I knew that Oliver slept with Austin to get me my job last year, but I had no idea they still were. It disgusts me more than it should. To think of my boss being one of the people using Oliver is repulsive. Salem looks even angrier now. Apparently I’m not the only grossed out. “You could’ve told me he was awake!”

“What difference would it make?” asks Salem. There’s another glaring match between the two of them. Oliver loses. He always does. He runs out the door as fast as he can in his heels. Salem shakes his head and sits in the armchair. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I ask.

“For dragging you into that,” he says. “I just figure it’s the only way to make him see sense.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” he insists. I shrug. Oliver will be back in a couple hours, predictably drunk. Salem knows this as well. He’s lived with Oliver since they were my age. He was there when the whole mess of Oliver’s job started. He didn’t completely hate it in the beginning, because they really did need the money. Now, almost three years later, he despises it. He’s said so. He’s offered to pay Oliver triple his rates, just to quit. I don’t know why Oliver says no every time. Salem has that money. Hell, even I’d contribute, just to get my brother back.

“Are you still going out tonight?” I ask. I’m eager to change subjects. Salem gets up suddenly and walks over to the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and stares at the contents for a few seconds.

“I’m not in the mood anymore,” he says. “Do you think you’re up for soup?”

“What?” I ask. I’ve finished Oliver’s smoothie. It was ok, I guess. I still don’t like food. I guess I’ll get over it eventually.

“You know, soup,” he says. I think I see the hint of a smile. “Warm, flavored liquid. Typically given to people who’ve recently been sick. Do you want a little? Cause we have leftovers from last night.”

“I’ll try it,” I say.

“Good boy,” he says. “We really don’t need another corpse in here. Soup’ll help you stand up again.”

“Ok, I get it,” I say. He takes these little plastic containers out of the fridge and lines them up on the counter. One after another, they are dumped into a pot on our stove (One of them broke the microwave last week.)

“Look, I’m just trying to help,” he says. I know, I know. I’m grateful. In a way, he’s done more than Oliver ever could.

“I know, I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m just not thinking today.”

“That makes sense,” he says. “You haven’t eaten in over a week and I doubt you’ve been properly hydrated. I think the best way to explain this is to compare me drinking for a week straight with no breaks. You pick your poisons. You just don’t go too far. What you did was too far. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I can’t help it, though. Food tastes disgusting.”

“Hmm, could it just be the kind of food you’ve had?” he asks. “I’m sure there’s something out there that you’ll like.”
“I guess,” I say. “But from what I’ve heard, people like me are supposed to one direction or the other. You know, either so unhealthy that it’s not food or ridiculously healthy. I don’t like either.

“We’ll find something,” he says. I shrug my shoulders as much as I can while lying down. Good luck with that. I push myself into a sitting position. My head hurts. Salem walks over with a mug in his hand. There’s a spoon in his other. He hands them both to me. I take a small sip. I can barely taste it as it burns my throat

BTW

2008-03-14T15:12:00.001-07:00

My previous two posts from the backstory are unedited. this will be fixed at a later date

Here is the second installment in that backstory i was talking about

2008-03-14T15:11:00.001-07:00

“No mom, I’m ok, really,” I think I’m imagining things. I specifically just heard Oliver say Mom.

“Honey, this, this…line of work is disgraceful. Do you think I left my home just so that my son could sell himself?” No, I’m not imagining things. Oliver’s mother is seated at our kitchen table. Oliver is dressed as Olivia. I look at my watch. It’s nine o’ clock at night. Oliver should be walking the streets right now. He needs the money.

“Mom, this isn’t about you,” he says. “I don’t particularly care and it pays well. As a matter of fact, it’s rather fun. Now can I please leave?”

“Not just yet,” she says. He looks at her in annoyance. He’s probably losing customers right now. She stares him down. “Why are you doing this?”

“I told you, it pays,” he says. “I’m completely safe and happy and enjoying myself. If you don’t like it, don’t come by anymore.” It’s not really like Oliver to be this rude, especially to his own mother. She stands up and looks at him sadly.

“What happened to my little boy?” she asks. She has a bit of a point. He looks like a girl right now.

“I’m still here, Mom,” he says. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m late for work.” I close my eyes again. Time to sleep for real.

…

I’m approaching my fifth day with out food. All things considering, it’s not that bad. I get a little dizzy at work and I don’t leave the couch at home, but I haven’t fainted. The pills get taken at regular times. Cigarettes are smoked as if nothing is wrong. I get some weird looks on the street because I’m so small, but for the most part, I’m invisible. I like it that way. The less people who notice me, the less people I have to deal with. Shyness is another of my many issues. Oliver hasn’t said anything yet. I’m scared of what he thinks, but I’m more afraid of eating.

I don’t know what I should do. I know I’m not being healthy. Knowing doesn’t change anything. I examine myself every day. I see every bone, every translucent bit of skin. I see eyes to large for my face and skin drawn too tight over my bones. I see the face of a stranger. I don’t know who I am. I don’t want to.

Toaster is a great name for a cow

2008-03-14T08:04:00.000-07:00

Thi bit of intelligence was brought by the YES (insane person who shares the Actress's brain). That information alone should help you formulate an opinion of her. I'm not sure I agree with her on the whole toaster thing, but I'm not about to admit that to her face. Especially since she's been screaming it loudly for the last couple minutes. So, ok, Toaster is a great name for a cow. If I ever own a cow, I will name it Toaster. Thank god I will never own a cow.

Here are two conflicting opinions on mathematics. One is that everything on earth can be connected to math. I dislike this opinion. The other was that every number on earth eventually will equal the "magic" seven (seven with a circle around it). I dislike anything that has to do with mathematics, but this second opinion is more fun.

I'm soooooo bored.

2008-03-13T13:37:00.000-07:00

Thus, you are reading this. By the way, if I actually took suggestions, you'd be reading about elephants right now. Be gratefull that I am a stubborn b*tch. Now, hmmm.....
let's see...what can I obsess about? I haven't had any sugar today. It's sad. I'm not hyper and my head hurts, but none of you really need to know that. GIVE ME STARBURSTS!!!!! NOW!!!

Ok, now that that's out of my system...I still don't know what to write about. Maybe it's because no one will give me any idea of what to write about. Obviously I can't just write about having nothing to write about. That would be even more boring than this already is. Here is my proof that I need sugar to be interesting as a writer. That or I should eat lunch more often. Oh well, too late to fix that now.

By the way, I really hate the Mario theme-song. My friends are playing video games and I really want to hit them because it's incredibly annoying. Going to kill them...Damn, I don't have a weapon. Maybe a pencil is sharp enough. maybe...

Also, it is riddiculously hard to type while someone is hugging you, so Bye....STARBURSTS

Shrinking: Poem one and poem two

2008-03-13T10:00:00.000-07:00

Shrinking (1)
95
It's a big number,
Unless it's in pounds.
Then it's small, skinny, tiny.
Then it's a sigh, a frown.
93
A headshhake, a cry,
A shout "What the hell"
I promise you I just ate.
Yesterday. Not today.
92
Stop glaring at me,
Stop staring.
I know that I'm sick.
So shut up. Right now.
89
I didn't know lower
could happen.
I didn't know you
could see through my skin.
I didn't know
that my eyes would grow
while I just shrink.
85
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
I'm trying, I swear.
I'm sick, I'm tired, I'm dying.
Don't yell, please.
Just help me.
Out.

Shrinking (2)
I'm shinking.
There's nothing to say.
A walking skeleton,
That's all I am.
As each pound disapears...
I'm crying. I don't want this.
I'd eat if I could,
But i can't, so I dont.
That's all I can say,
As I shrink down to nothing.
95, 93, 92, 89, 85!...0
NO NO NO
I don't want to die.
I don't want to disapear.
HELP
Please?

Both Poems were thought up after writing the previously posted backstory. The backstory is mostly just Dumitru's 15'th year, which was one of the worst in his life. He was severely anorexic. He was terrified of food, of eating. It wasn't that he was afraid of fat, it was that the mere thought of eating disgusted him. There were times when he would go almost entire weeks without eating. In one such instance, he fainted and almost cut his head open. After that, he was a little more careful, but he was not entirely cured of his disorder until two years later.

this is the first installment of a backstory for Dumitru

2008-03-12T16:11:00.000-07:00

It’s just a number. Just one tiny little number. I keep telling myself that as Oliver pushes me on to the scale. I close my eyes and breathe in. I wait for him to start yelling. He doesn’t. He sighs; it’s a sad sound. I stand on the scale, afraid to look down at the number. I’m sure it’s lower than last week. I feel even more bony than usual and I hate it, but I can’t force myself to eat. Food still looks disgusting to me. I’m afraid of throwing up. I haven’t eaten in three days. I can barely stand up straight. I’m sure Oliver can see this. I feel faint. I don’t want to deal with this right now.

“Do you know how under weight you are?” he asks. I finally open my eyes. Eighty-nine pounds. I was right. That’s another three pounds gone. I’m not proud of it. If anything, I’m ashamed. I didn’t ask for this body. I didn’t ask for an aversion to food. I shake my head as an answer to his question. He sighs again. “What am I going to do with you?” he asks. I shrug. I really don’t know. I’d rather be anywhere else right now. “Fine, go. Sleep. Waste away. I don’t see why I bother. Between you and Salem, I’m running myself ragged.” I step off the scale and leave him there. My body protests the movement. It is grateful when I curl into a ball on the couch. A fetal position is the only way I don’t hurt. From my pocket I pull out a pill box. I only take one- I don’t want to die-before slipping off into dreamland. My last conscious moment is Oliver covering me with a blanket.

Not important, i swear

2008-03-12T11:06:00.000-07:00

In opinion

Which one is the boy name?

SASHA or MICAH

Characters

2008-03-12T10:51:00.001-07:00

Characters are one of the main components of any play. They are either easy or obnoxious to create, depending on how you look at it. Each character must be their own person, separate from the other characters, from real people, and from your self. Characters must have personalities and history and you have to know every detail of their lives. This can take forever. For instance, I've been writing backstories for Dumitru (Cuth Roen) for months now. Now, he's one of my most well developed characters. In contrast, I have written almost nothing about Victoria and thus I know almost nothing about her. That means I'll have to write numerous backstories about her, not to mention all my other charas. There's TOO MANY of them.

That's just in the Cuth Roen universe. I'm also colaborating on a Play with The Actress. We have four main characters, all of whom have a tendency to blend together. It's annoying to have to make glaring differences and still have the characters sound the way they should. Not to mention, one of the characters is based off of the Actress herself and it's hard not to just write from life. It would be easier just to write what she says, but it has to be a character. Not the real person, because when a play is preformed, it will not always be the same person acting. Characters have to be specific in the details, but they also have to be broad enough so that multiple actors can play it with a similar feel.

It's also frustrating to get feed back that characters sound alike. It's hard to change that. But a character has to be able to make dialogue interesting. If two characters sound alike, it's BORING. It's also hard to fix.

Thank you for reading my rant. I hope your problems seem smaller in comparison to mine.

Just kidding.

Bye bye, Darlings.

STARBURSTS

Guest Post... Number... 7?

2008-03-10T09:22:00.000-07:00

Hi, this is the NERD. Blatant non-content is yhey and is worth uber lulz. HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHA! Blatant non-content... um bye!

Yes and 42

2008-03-10T08:45:00.000-07:00

Apparently, the answer to every question is yes except when it's 42. All hail my insane friends, even if I do agree with them in a sense. Actually I only agree with their reference to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Because that is an awesome movie (Depressed Robot!)

Also, yes is a color now. I don't remember exactly what it was, but oh well. The insanity is AWESOME. I fully intend to mass produce it and make millions while exploiting my friend who invented it. Heh, if only...

oh, and to complete the randomness...MINI SHARPIES!!!! They have no purpose, but they fit in my pocket easier than regular sharpies. I now have the power to draw on anything, anywhere. Not really, it just means I can decorate those notebooks you all have to buy me. I'm serious, I need new notebooks.

Also, The Actress would like you to contribute to GET HER A HAIRCUT FUND. I'd link you to her blog, but she's too stupid to write one. Oh well.

(My friends should not have sugar. EVER.)

One of them looks squirlish.

The NERD needs to help me think of another topic so that I can keep rambling.

My friends are pathetic and they won't help me, so this is all I can say.

Bye bye

(I want more notebooks.)

(and starbursts)

You know it's true....

2008-03-09T16:36:00.000-07:00

People should have murder mystery parties more often. That was hilariously funny. And now I need to find some other time where a flapper dress is appropriate attire. I love that dress. I really, really love it. I'm a little sad now. (but i love the leftover hors d'ovoers.)

On a separate note, I'm starting the PLEASE Buy me MORE Notebooks Fund. I'm serious, I don't know how they fill up so fast. I need a laptop as fast as possible. Then I can just write straight on to a computer. Who am I kidding? I love the annoying clutter of notebooks. It's my excuse for the crap pile that is my room. Though if I do get a laptop, I will be forced to type up the contents of my zillion notebooks. That will take FOREVER. I guess that's life. But I'm serious about the Fund. I want notebooks for my birthday and nothing else. (Just kidding, I want other stuff too.)

Ok, so now an update on the Cuth Roen Universe:

1. I have a backstory that I am working on. It's kind of awesome. It's also a good excersize of slipping into different character voices, since it's all in first person instead of my usual third person. Actually, I've only used my male characters so far. I think the girls are too boring. (I love them, they're my characters, but seriously. I need to work on my girls.) (Stupid work)

2. I'm also writing Cuth Roen III: Dead End. It's in bits and pieces write now, but it has the potential to be mind-blowing.

3. Cuth Roen (original) is being edited into a new style that i just thought of. I don't want to say much about it yet. (I have a love/hate relationship with the editing process. It's fun and necessary, but it's annoying and time consuming. ugh.)

4.Cuth Roen II: Crossroads. Still being typed. my relationship with typing is still all HATE. It takes forever! I'll finish it someday...

Ok, I think that's it. I'm still working on a play script in Collaboration with my friend The Actress. It has potential, but we just need to work on it as soon as possible. I want to get stuff written!!!!

Bye, bye now Darlings. GIVE ME MORE CANDY

2008-03-04T08:27:00.000-08:00

STARBURSTS

(This random sugar fueled post is brought to you by the giant bag of starbusrts i will soon be consuming)

now on to an actual topic

i don't have one

Eat your sugar.

Yes, I will update around this time on mondays thru fridays

2008-02-29T09:18:00.000-08:00

Here are the name I've found on behindthename.com's random name generator.

1. Masaru (victory in japanese)

2.Ninian (no meaning)

3. Gearalt (Gerald [the cool verion])

4. Ichirou (Traditional name for the first son [japanese])

5. Farquar (no meaning i could find)

6. Aoife (beauty in gaelic [i think])

Stupid things you can do on the computer

2008-02-28T08:39:00.000-08:00

(All of these things have actually happened)
(About two seconds ago)

1. Type the word explosiob into the google search bar. You will actually get results.

2. Type Purpledoom into the search bar. If you are the NERD please try to kill yourself for having the same user name as yourself before realizing that it's you.

3. Check the Bunny comic. The Orange Bunny will haunt you if you don't.

4. Write a Blog about absolutely nothing.

5.Play tetris. Lose. Try again. repeat.

6. Get annoyed at people who ask what you are doing when you are obviously doing NOTHING

7. Check the webcomics that you know only update one Mon, Wed, Fri. Get really annoyed that there isnt a new comic even if it's a thursday.

8. Write this list.

9. Look at youtube videos of Donald Trump's hair. (This one did NOT happen)

10. Wonder why someone would own a Dick Cheney mask. (it was disturbing.)

Now that that's done, I'm going to go find something else to do.

I just remembered that I have nothing to do.

Now I'm sad.

Give me chocolate.

I mean it, now.

Here's the story. The title we all could agree on was; Don't You Love a DRAMATIC Ending?

2008-02-26T15:36:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER 1 OSCAR

This is not happening.

There is no way on earth that this is happening. (This being me getting a lead in our school musical.) I can act ok, but I’m not great. As to singing…well, I’ve never sung in front of people before the auditions, so I don’t know if I’m any good. I shouldn’t have even been at the auditions, but well, these things happen…

It began as one of those days where nothing goes right. It started with torrential rain, which wouldn’t let up all day, continued with a test in almost everything and ended with my brother not picking me up until six PM. In English, my teacher hovered over me the entire period. I mean, I know I’m the type of kid teachers are supposed to watch for, the kid with no parents around, an older brother whose job is shady to say the least and who just doesn’t seem to fit in anywhere. I may have looked a little shabbier that usual that day, but come on, she didn’t have to look at me like I was going to pull a gun on her. So, by the time I got a call from my brother, Geoff, telling me that he’d be out until six and to stay at school, I wasn’t in the best state of mind. I could have ignored him and gone home on the bus, but that would have meant waiting for the bus to actually show up, IN THE RAIN. Waiting for the bus usually takes about forty minutes of my time, plus my stop is almost twenty minutes away from my building. It was easier to wait for Geoff. So I went to the auditorium. It’s normally the easiest place to hide, since I have no reason to be at the school this late.

But that wasn’t a normal day. That day was audition day and I walked in on a gaggle of drama nerds clustered around our school’s resident director. I can’t say I remember her name now, but oh well. Anyway, she told me that the only way she could let me stay was if I tried out. I said ok, as long as I could go last. I figured Geoff would get here before it was my turn. But I’m not lucky at all so at exactly five thirteen, I got called up to the stage. They told me what to read and I did it. Then they made me read something else. The director had told everyone a little about this show, Les Miserables, but at the time I couldn’t remember anything. I still can’t. That’s why it’s so unbelievable that I got a lead.

After the readings, they made me sing. The guy at the piano played a few notes and told me what to sing. I tried and apparently I was good. The director was saying something to me about it when my phone rang. I immediately ran off the stage and out of the auditorium. It’s never wise to let my brother wait, especially after he’s just made a deal. He doesn’t like driving with money he’d be too tempted to spend on useless things when both of us need food and clothes and there’s rent to pay on Friday. So I run. I’m fast when I want to be.

We were quiet on the ride home. That means the deal went well. The thing with Geoff is that the happier he is, the quieter he gets. When he’s loud and jumpy, I watch out because he’s usually pissed. He’s usually only like that when a shipments running late or his personal supply is low. But anyway he was quiet and so was I, because I was thinking about how we’re actually going to pay rent on time and how there’s this leather jacket I’ve been noticing that I might actually get to buy. I wasn’t thinking about the auditions. It was like they’d never happened.

Now I’m staring at this wall with this little piece of paper that declares to the world that I, Oscar Harrison, have a lead in Les Mis. See;

MARIUS----------------------------------------------------------Harrison, Oscar

I don’t even know the story. I didn’t spend winter break repeating lines over and over until they were all I thought about. No, I spent winter break making deliveries for my brother. It’s not something I’d ever want to do again, but Geoff got a cold and junkies get pissed when they get their supply cut, even for a week. So I had to run all over our side of town. And I do mean run. I can’t drive because I’m only fifteen. Give me a few more months, but right now I’m basically useless.

I don’t know why delivering for my brother made me so nervous, but it did. I mean, the entire school already thinks I dip into his supply and that I’ll be taking over the business in a few years but it’s not like that. My brother deals because it’s the only way he can make money without getting a GED. He won’t have time to get one until I’m out of school. So he deals and he uses, just because he doesn’t know what else to do. He dug a hole for himself and by keeping my mouth shut I climb out of that hole. Once I’m eighteen, I’ll leave this place behind and go find somewhere where my brother isn’t dealing to all my neighbors; where I’m not the boy who occasionally falls asleep in class; where no one knows my name. Maybe in New York City.

I just realized that I zoned out for over ten minutes and that I’m the only one still in the hallway. First period’s started, but I’m not in the mood. My brain’s in off mode for the time being. Coffee would help, but it might as well be pot the way it’s kept from students. The teachers tell us that it’s for our own health, but I’ve been drinking coffee black since fifth grade. I’m still growing and my brain still works, so I think I’m ok.

I’m walking away from the board, from the paper when I walk straight into this girl. She stumbles backwards. I almost help her up, but I’m so tired right now. I need a nap. I just remembered how comfortable the seats in the auditorium are. I walk away from the girl and duck into the auditorium. Too much has already happened today. At the moment I’m happy just for sleep.

CHAPTER 2 KATIE

I brush off my pants. Stupid guy ran into me-oh it’s that kid who always sleeps during all-school assemblies. My sister says he does that in class, too. Arnold, or Oscar, or something like that. Standing up, I look more closely at this list tacked to the board.

I can act? I wonder, staring in disbelief at this paper. Wandering into the auditions hadn’t been something I planned on doing. It just sort of...happened. Like that D I got on my last history test. I thought I studied and I thought I was prepared, but apparently I wasn’t. When my parents saw it (they’re more on top of my grades than I am) I got a huge lecture about my potential, because my parents are just that type of Asian-American immigrant who think good is perfect and that anything is less than good is horrible. The lecture they gave me was they same one they always do, about how I don’t live up to my potential and if I just tried, I would be great, and blah, blah, blah.

And now, supposedly, I’ve found myself a skill. According to this paper;

EPONINE-----------------------------------------------------------Lee, Katie

So I’m better than some of those self-acclaimed drama nerds, the ones who’ve been studying the script of Les Mis since they released the title in November and already know it by heart. No, I’ve been practicing for a stupid piano recital in two weeks. I look at the list again.

All participants MUST attend an after school rehearsal on Wednesday, January 4 until 5PM. If you cannot attend, you MUST see Mrs. Vinehouse before the end of eighth period on Tuesday.

My mind explodes on me. Five PM on a Wednesday? My piano lesson starts at four. Apparently, my feet are working just fine, because the next thing I consciously know, I’m sitting in Mr. Markson’s geometry class, not paying attention to his lecture on triangles. I’m worrying about what my parents will say, even imagining the argument I’d have with them.

I’m suddenly aware that Mr. Markson has called on me, but only because every kid in the class is now staring at me. “Well, Miss Lee?” he asks.

“Could you repeat the question?” I ask half-heartedly. The drawing on the overhead is a right triangle and there’s a large paragraph right next to it, but I can’t see what we’re trying to prove or anything like that.

“What conjecture do we use next in this proof?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. Mr. Markson sighs and then continues with his lecture. I proceed to worry for the rest of the period and a minute before the bell it hits me that acting is something my sister’s never done before; something where I can be MYSELF.

CHAPTER 3 OSCAR

I wake up to the sound of another bell ringing. I check my watch, and wouldn’t you know; it’s third period. I go to the nurse, because she’s at least nice enough to write me a pass and look the other way. She always takes my temperature, though I think it’s just nurse protocol. Today I’m still at a normal temperature, but I guess I look hungry or something, because she makes me eat before she let’s me go. Of course, I’m late for third period as well. At this point, I don’t know which class is which. I generally take my clues from how the walls are decorated. This one has pictures of historical figures. History, more than likely. Unless this lady just really likes confusing me.

“I was at the nurse’s office,” I tell the teacher. She takes my pass and looks me up and down. I know she doesn’t believe me, but what can I do? I slip away to my seat in the back of the room. Less than two seconds later she passes out a test that I knew nothing about. (This must be the class I missed yesterday.)

Ironically, I know every answer. Not that it matters. Even though I’m done first, she doesn’t collect mine. And when she says to raise your hand if you need extra time, I know she’s looking at me. I don’t even have to look up. There’s a book in my bag that I need to finish before it’s due back at the library. Within seconds Teacher Lady is standing over me.

“You need to be finished the test to read in class,” she says. I hand her the test, not looking up from my book. She looks at me as if I’m a monster. I must have shattered her perfect world where poor kids are always stupid.

I’m not. Stupid, that is. I have a brain. School just doesn’t seem important in comparison to my life. I’m the responsible one in my tiny family. I buy groceries for us. I put all or bills in the mail. I have my crap part time (weekends) job at the Walgreen’s to pay for my clothes. I’m tired all the time from my life. School for me is just one long nap. If I do well on tests, it’s only because I remember random facts, not because I care.

So, I read my book until the bell finally rings. It’s a good book; I’m going to be sad once I finally return it. I edge out of the room as fast as I can, even though I don’t have to be anywhere. This period is gym. I can’t do gym until I buy one of the school required uniforms. I can’t afford a uniform. I told the school that last year, but they tell me I’m being ridiculous. “It’s only thirty dollars.” One of them actually said that to me. “Your brother’s income can clearly cover that.” I can’t say anything back, because that would mean admitting that my brother is a dealer and that his income changes every minute. I already said that I’m not stupid.

I’m alone in the hallway again. I take the long way to the nurse’s office. Again, I look at the cast list. Instead of letting my eye get drawn straight to my name; I let them pan over it. One detail I notice scares me. I see it in fragments.

Rehearsal. January fourth. 5PM. ALL CAST MEMBERS.

Now I have no choice about telling Geoff. I’m going to need rides home from now on. Forget the late bus. I’m not safe on that bus. Most of the detention kids think I sell for my brother and thus they “bother” me. It’s tiring and I always end up bruised the next day. No matter how many times I say that I don’t deal and that I would never work for my brother (or at least I don’t want to), no one listens. They see what they want and I let them. Until now.

Now, I’m giving them something new to see about me. I’m giving them a new ME.

MARIUS----------------------------------------------------------Harrison, Oscar

I’m giving them a new Me to consider. Oscar Harrison, actor, sounds a lot better than Oscar Harrison, doped up dealer’s brother.

It’s slightly amazing and completely hilarious to get an epiphany in the middle of a school hallway. I’m still laughing hysterically as I walk into the nurse’s office. The blonde anorexic sitting near the door glares at me, but I can’t help it. The nurse smiles and I know she’s at least happy that I seem happy. I’m not exactly happy, but I’m pretty freakin’ close.

CHAPTER 4 TABITHA

“I bet that girl with braces has mono!”

“Ha-ha, yeah, and the Goth chick in the corner has a prosthetic leg!” We laugh. Kat and I usually spend lunch sharing something gross and greasy (today it’s cheese fries) and guessing what is wrong with the people in the lunchroom. Kat eats like, two bites and I eat the rest. Then I feel like crap and spend the rest of the day in the nurse’s office. Everyone thinks that Kat has an eating disorder or whatever, but that’s so not true. When I ask her if she is feeling ok, she usually replies that it’s no biggie and she just had a big breakfast. I’m jealous she can eat so much in the morning and still be super skinny. Amanda is the same way, she eats like really tiny meals for breakfast and lunch, but it’s okay, because her housekeeper makes her really big amazing dinners.

“Ew, Tammy, you just ate like, a FULL cheese fries,” Mandy exclaims, obviously disgusted. I pretend to be grossed out, when in fact it was really good, but I run to the bathroom anyway because my stomach was hurting. After I hurl (third time this week), I get a pass to the nurse. She won’t be happy to see me, but there is no way I’m going to my honors geometry class with these huge circles under my eyes.

One gray ceiling tile, two icky gray ceiling tiles, three icky gross ceiling tiles...

This is how I spend gym. I mean wouldn’t you rather fake chronic stomachaches and count tiles on the nurse’s office ceiling than sweat?

Ew, that weird guy who most likely deals drugs is here AGAIN. Why can’t he just get high under the bleachers like every other good little stoner boy? Why does he have to trespass on my territory? I mean here, and at the auditions on –

Oh my god. I COMPLETELY forgot to check the cast list for Les Mis! I’ve been in EVERY school play for the past years and starred in all but one (the first one). This year I really wanted to be Cosette, but Cassie tried out for the show too, and she said I would be a better Fantine, so I tried out for that instead. I just hope they saw past it and realized that I was DESTINED to play Cosette. I reach the hallway; it’s deserted. I hold my breath at start at the bottom. I’m no in the ensemble (no surprise), I’m not a nameless supporting character (good news!) and...

FANTINE..................................................................................Cassie Myers

Oh my god! Cassie got Fantine! That means I got something better! Or nothing at all... I continue up the list...

COSETTE................................................................................Tabitha Summers

I got it! I did! Yay! Buy as I go to see who else I know is in the cast, a name catches my eye.

MARIUS.....................................................................................Oscar Harrison

How did that weirdo get in?!?! His audition was – well, I wasn’t paying attention, but I’m sure it was awful! He just walks in for the first time and gets this fabulous part?! Am I supposed to just sit and take this?! I spent YEARS working up to the status I have now. I put up with plenty of rejection, and this boy just waltzes in here and gets a lead? Ha-ha, NO.

I text my mother to tell her that I have to stay for the play, and she tells me she is proud of me for getting the part. I see some midget Asian chick walking down the hallway. She glances at me, and smiles. I’m in shock, is she allowed to smile at me?! Uh, NO! What is WRONG with the world?! I feel faint. In fact, the hallway is spinning. The smile vanishes from her face as I fall down.

CHAPTER 5 KATY

Oh my god that girl just fainted! I’d better get some help... I look around the hallway, surprised to see that no one’s around. Usually this is one of the busiest hallways in the school, especially now with the cast list printed and tacked nearby, but it’s deserted. Odd… usually it’s filled with people. Maybe the middle of the period. I seriously don’t know or care. It’s not like I’d get any work done in whatever class I have now anyway. And, if I take this girl to the nurse, I’ll be doing a good deed. And maybe the nurse will tell me what period it is. Then, I’ll know where I’m supposed to be, maybe....

I walk over to the girl, kneel down next to her, and try to wake her up. It doesn’t work too well. It’s a good thing no one’s around, because I probably look like an idiot, shaking this blond girl who’s on the floor, dead, asleep, or passed out.

I waste five minutes trying to wake her, which clearly isn’t happening, then take another good look at her. She’s really skinny, but I still don’t think she’s light enough for me to pick her up. I’m not what you would think of as the strongest person. Instead, I just walk to the nurse’s office, pop my head in and say, “Excuse me? I think someone passed out in the lobby.” This, of course, causes the nurse to jump up out of her chair, grab the wheelchair they have there for such purposes, and hurry out.

“Come along, dear. Now, what is your name and where did you find this person?”

“Well, it’s this blond girl. She’s really skinny and I found her in front of the cast list –”

“Oh, that must be Tabitha. She was just in my office a bit ago! What’s your name, child? Tabitha will want to know who helped her.”

“My name’s Katie. Do you happen to know what period it is?”

“Oh, yes, it’s almost fifth.” So this is lunch. I actually know what it is, surprisingly. Somewhere in my bag I have a lunch my mother made...

I wander around the school for the rest of the period and all of my lunch. The teachers never ask, because they see me and think, Oh, smart little Asian girl, she won’t do any harm, why bother wasting our precious time reprimanding students like her? Sometimes I want to do something horrible, just to rub it in their faces. But then I’d bring shame on my family and I’d be at fault and – oh, no! – I’d never make it to college. What a shame.

Even if I can’t remember what it is now, there was a reason I decided to wander the halls for a period. A school’s hallways are so different in between classes rather than during them. During a class period, the hallways are empty and there’s rarely anyone around. Wandering the halls during my lunch, I can sometimes forget I’m still at school. It’s like those random days when we have off from school, but the rest of the world’s still going in full swing. You get to really appreciate everything that you couldn’t appreciate because you’re in school all day long. A suburban neighborhood at noon on a school day has a very different atmosphere from the same neighborhood only four hours later.

My random wonderings suddenly stop when I hear the sound of footsteps. A teacher in the halls, or a student – one wandering like me or one who’s actually got some place to be?

Oh. It’s that kid I noticed before. Was he the one who knocked me over right before I looked at the cast list? I can’t tell, but I know I recognize him from somewhere, and that I saw him at some point near the cast list, which means he’s in the play.

Thinking about the play causes me to wonder what it’s about. All I can tell is that it’s French – I heard one of the drama nerds saying to her friend that choosing to study French was finally going to help her acting career. I decide that going to the library and looking it up would be my best bet.

The librarian smiles at me as I walk in. She probably thinks I’m my sister, here to study for her entire lunch period. Ah well. It’s better that she thinks I’m my sister than that my sister is me. I sit down at a computer and bring up the internet. Google just happens to be the home page. I type in “les mis” and get 778,000 results. The first result is better than I could have hoped: www.lesmis.com. I read the show description and instantly fall in love with the story. I wonder if my parents would be willing to buy the soundtrack so I could learn the songs ahead of time...

CHAPTER 6 OSCAR

“Geoff!” I don’t know why I bother shouting. He’s probably not home yet. It’s just habit. I guess.

“What?” he asks. What is going on here? He walks into the kitchen. He’s got a joint with him. That explains everything. “What’re you doing here?”

“It’s four,” I tell him, dropping my bag on the kitchen table. “School’s out. Don’t you have a shipment coming today?”

“Sh*t,” he pulls out his phone. “Sh*t. I gotta go. Order pizza for me.” With that, he disappears out the door. So much for paying the rent this month. If he’s too late on that shipment...I don’t want to think about it.

So...home alone. Nothing to do. I could do home work, but...God, I think the two minutes with Geoff and his joint affected me more than it should have. Maybe a nap...No, I need to stay awake. I need to make a plan to get Geoff on my side for the whole Les Mis thing. The phone’s ringing. I should answer it, but...no; it’s going to the answering machine.

“Hello, Mr. Harrison, this is Fernbrook High School. We’re calling on behalf of your brother, Oscar. According to our records, he hasn’t attended more than half of his required classes. Is something happening in his home life that we should know abou-” I click the end button before the lady can finish. Bad home situation isn’t even close. But there’s no way the school needs to know about that. We get messages like this all the time, but it never comes to anything. No truant officer. Nothing. It’s like I don’t exist.

Now, it’s Wednesday and I’m having déjà vu. I’m completely out of place here. We’ve all been sitting around for twenty minutes. Man, these theatre people can talk. I’m going to fall asleep if something doesn’t happen soon. In fact...

“Excuse me?” A voice jumps into my thoughts. I open my eyes into slits. It’s just a girl. I know I’ve seen her before. I close my eyes again. Maybe she’ll go away. “Excuse me?”

“What?” I ask. My eyes are still closed.

“Um, well, I was wondering if I could sit here with...you.” She’s nervous, any idiot could see that. I swear I’m not that scary.
“Sure, sit. I don’t mind,” I say. I move my legs so she can get to the seat I’ve blocked with my legs. I open my eyes again. “Do I know you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she says.

“I’m serious, aren’t you in my history class?” I ask. Now I know who she is, she’s that girl who sits the closest to the teacher.

“No,” she says. “I’m just a freshman,” she explains. “You must be thinking of my sister, the genius.”

“Ok then,” I said. I gesture to the drama nerds. “Do you know when this thing’s supposed to start?”

“This is my first play,” she says. “I was hoping you knew what was going on,”

“Sorry, this is my first play, too,” I say. “I’m Oscar, by the way. Oscar Harrison.”

“I know,” she says. “I’m Katie Lee. What role did you get? I got Eponine.” Somehow the thespians hear her and turn to glare. Eponine must be another lead,

“Marius,” I say, looking at my watch. At this rate, the rehearsal won’t start until six am tomorrow.

“Are you hungry?” she asks. Am I giving off some sort of scent? I wonder as she pulls out two clementines. “I didn’t eat lunch today.” Welcome to my life. “I’m starved. Want one?” What the heck, I nod. I almost never say no to free food. Suddenly, the entire auditorium goes quiet for a few seconds. A very skinny blond girl has just entered. Another girl runs up and they do that weird air-kiss thing that you only see in movies.

“Sorry I’m late,” she announces. Everyone goes back into their conversations. The blond skeleton wrinkles her nose as she passes me.

“Sorry, is it the smell?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “I never notice it, but I’m told it bothers people.” I know that my jacket smells like pot. Almost everything I own does. Not hard, considering that the entire house reeks. But I don’t need her crap.

“My mom says I shouldn’t talk to pot heads,” she snaps. Aww, princess, get out of that ivory tower. The girl next to you bought from my brother at least twice last year.

“You’re not,” I say, smiling slightly. I’m not nearly rude enough to add the rest, ‘but a few minutes ago you were.’ Not my thing. She sniffs and stalks away.

“They’ve really dropped their standards this year,” she says. “They’ve let in the FREAKS.”

“You’ll have to do better than that,” I say. The blond girl gives me the finger without turning around. “A lot better.”

Katie giggles next to me. “That was great.”

“I’m glad you’re amused,” I say. “Her Majesty, the Ice Queen, doesn’t seem to be.”

“No, not that,” says Katie; “she’s Cosette.” My confusion must register on my face. “Don’t you know this story at all?”

“No,” I say. “I figured they’d explain it today.”

“Oh, then you might want to know that Marius and Cosette are supposed to be in love,” says Katy.

“That’s why it’s called acting,” I say. She laughs again. Great, now I’m a comedian, as well as an actor.

“Why’d you say anything to her at all?” asks Katie. “Now everyone in drama’ll hate you.”

“Everyone hates me already,” I say. “Whether it’s ’cause of my brother or whatever; I don’t care anymore. I figure, if they’re going to hate me, I may as well be obnoxious and give them a reason. Otherwise I fall into the crap trap of giving them what they expect.”

“And what do they expect?” she asks sweetly, innocently. How much more naïve can this girl get?

“They figure that I’m exactly like my brother; that I’m a junkie, stupid, a future dropout,” I say. It’s a list I’ve been hearing all my life. “They figure I’m a pot head, a loser, an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she says. I laugh briefly, bitterly.

“I don’t think I’m an idiot either,” I say. “But I don’t belong anywhere, either.”

“Thanks to my sister, neither do I,” she says. “She’s a genius, so she skipped a grade. Thanks to her, anything I do is worse.”

“it sucks to be overshadowed by something you can’t help,” I say. “Sometimes I wish my brother would just disappear. I want my own life, on my own terms, not his.”

“Exactly.” Katie grins. “You know, you’re not as scary as you look.”

“Thanks,” I say. I think I just made a friend. That apocalypse should happen any day now.

CHAPTER 7 TABITHA

“Where’s Kat?” I ask, glancing around the auditorium for my friend.

“She’s at a ‘thing’,” a short Asian girl who looks vaguely familiar says. “Speaking of which, are you feeling better?”

“Feeling better? What?” This girl is just randomly talking to me, but I’m putting up with it because Kat is MIA and this girl is slightly cool-ish.

“From last week, when you collapsed? I helped you, remember? To the nurse?” Oh! That was her? Oh right! The Asian girl in the hallway!

“Oh right, thanks. So, what’s your name and who are you in my play?” She laughs nervously.

“Your play?”

“Oh, my bad- OUR play. Achem.” This time she laughs openly. Easily amused, isn’t she?

We spend the rest of the rehearsal talking about the other people in the show. They are learning the dances for the guys’ songs, and I came because Kat and I usually stay just to watch, and Katie came to write down what Oscar had to learn for him.

“Why are you friends with Oscar?” I finally ask as we walk to the bus.

“Well, he was the only person who would talk to me, and he was funny. Plus no one gets him, and I sympathize with that.” Ew. No one GETS him?

“What’s to get? He gets high with his brother and steals parts that other people deserve. He acts like a know-it-all and he judges people without getting to know them. I get it.”

“He’s not like that! And aren’t YOU judging HIM without getting to know him first?” Well damn. I still hate him, but maybe I could find out more about him first.

“Whatever. Check you later Katie-er” I can talk to her later, on IM or whatever. We can chat, she actually seems pretty cool.

***

Kitty KAT heart: Hey cupcake. Was ^?

I Heart Tabz: NM, where were you today?

Kitty KAT heart: ...

I Heart Tabz: Did the nurse call your mom?

Kitty KAT heart: How did you know?

I Heart Tabz: She did it to me too, and the doc is in on it too! She was all, “bulimia blah” and now mom is making me keep a food log!

Kitty KAT heart: Ew, bulimia? You so do not barf after every meal!

I Heart Tabz: I know! But at least I eat... what happened to you??

Kitty KAT heart has signed off.

I Heart Tabz: Kat????

I Heart Tabz: are you there?

I Heart Tabz: WTF Kat? What happened????

Just as Kat ignored me another IM popped up, from a girl named KATiE lEE1234. Gee, who could it be?

KATiE lEE1234: Hey! Do you know what number 3 is on the math HW?

I Heart Tabz: a=22.6

KATiE lEE1234: U ok??

I Heart Tabz: yeah, but Kat is being totally obnoxious

KATiE lEE1234: what?

I Heart Tabz: well she went to he same doctor I did, and I told her what happened at my appointment, but she signed off when I asked her the same thing.

KATiE lEE1234: What happened at yours?

I Heart Tabz: Well, the doctor started telling lies about me! She told my mom that ‘I am showing signs of BULIMIA’ can you believe it?!?!

KATiE lEE1234: well...

I Heart Tabz: OH MY GAWD, you believe her? How can you possibly think that?!

I Heart Tabz has signed off.

I am steaming mad. First, my mom makes me do this stupid diet plan, and now Katie is siding with that lying doctor! I’m done all my homework, so I check my myspace. Apparently after she signed off Kat went on and made a bazillion posts on other peoples walls. Usually I read everything she writes, but today I’m ignoring her. I play mindless video games until I decide to let myself sleep.

***

As I walk down the halls the next day people whisper at me. I wonder if my hair is messed up or something. By the time I get to lunch I am fully self conscious in everyway. I walk to my regular table.

“Hey guys! What’s up?!” Kat and Amanda share a look. I start to get uneasy. Cassie slides into my normal seat.

“What the- Uh, Cassie, that’s MY seat.”

“Ha, not anymore.”

“Yeah, go away barf-bag!” Oh my gawd! Kat told everyone about what the doctor said! THAT’S why they were all whispering about me. My eyes well up with tears. Okay self, what are my options. I can (a) make huge dramatic exit complete with tears, or (b) snap back with a catty remark, spin on my heal and make a slightly less dramatic exit or, (c) find someone else I know who won’t care that I’m bulimic and who will let me sit with them. I decide on (b) because (a) is too attention-calling, and I do not need more of that and frankly, (c) is really unlikely.

“Well at least I’m not a SLUT!” I then spin on my heel, and promptly fall on my butt. Can this day get any worse?! The good news is a tiny hand is extending towards me. I grasp it, and as the room comes back into focus, I realize that Katie has saved me once again. She takes me over to her table. Population equals, oh, her and a certain obnoxious stoner boy. He looks at me very rudely, but apparently manages to wrap his tiny brain around the fact that I’m in no mood to deal with him. I wonder where his snappish annotations are, but he scribbles something down on a piece of paper and passes it to Katie.

“I am NOT saying that! You say it Mr. Sore throat!” ohhh, that explains it. I take the piece of paper.

The spoiled princess table is over there! ^ Did you get lost??

I breathe deeply. It’s going to be a long day.

________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 8 KATIE

“How was rehearsal?” my sister asks as I walk in from yet another late-ending after-school rehearsal. It’s late enough that both of my parents are gone at some neighborhood meeting and my sister’s given my ten-year-old brother dinner in front of the TV.

“Normal,” I answer, dumping my junk in a pile by the door, as usual.

“But what’s normal?” she asks. I have to think about this truthfully for a minute before I’ve realized that I’m back at today’s rehearsal.

Once again, my friends openly fought with each other. Once again, I worried about both of them; Tabitha’s still puking up her food and Oscar’s got more “family problems” than ever. Once again, I forgot these worries in the acting. Once again, they – my friends – tried to convince me that the other one’s a bad friend. Once again, I tried to convince them that the other one’s really not a bad person. Once again, they just keep up their walls of undeserved prejudices.

Apparently, all of the emotions associated with a “normal” day of rehearsal – annoyance and anger at them not getting along, worry about the both of them, joy at finally having found something that I can and like to do that my sister hasn’t beaten me at before I’ve even tried, different annoyance at the both of them for resisting my efforts to get them to agree on something, and similar annoyance at them for trying to convince me that the other isn’t what I think they are – are confusing even to me, but it seems like my twin’s recognized them all. She even understands – it looks like she understands more than I do!

She smiles, almost another laugh, then turns away, back to whatever it was she was doing. “What?” I ask. She just keeps smiling and shakes her head. I’m still addressing the back of her head. “What?”

“I’m just glad you’re happy.” But didn’t you just see all those different levels of annoyance on my face? I wonder. I’m just frustrated and annoyed at my friends for being such idiots.

But I guess I am happy. I have something to look forward to every day – rehearsal – and a reason to live, at least through to the last performance.

CHAPTER 9 OSCAR

It’s been three months now. You’d think Tabitha, hence forth known as the Ice Queen, would have gotten over my being in the play by now. Obviously I am the unluckiest person in this school, since Her Majesty has declared war. As a matter of fact, since rehearsals started, she’s been getting more and more hysterical. It’s almost enjoyable to watch her face go blank as her insults bounce off of me and on to her.

Speaking of Her Majesty, look who’s hovering around the back rows of the auditorium as I’m about to leave. Her majesty may also be the Blonde Skeleton, but this girl definitely beats her.

“…And did you hear? His father left his mother for another man.” She says as I walk past. “And then he died of AIDS. His mom committed suicide; she was so depressed. And his brother’s a heroin addict. I heard he hasn’t been sober in years. I also heard that they couldn’t pay the rent, so now they live in a cardboard box!” She’s projecting so that everyone can hear. She knows I’m right behind her.

“Excuse me,” I say, as if she’s in my way. She turns around. There’s a satisfied smirk on her face. Part of me wants to punch her right now, but that’s not who I am.

“Can I help you?” she asks, a little too sweetly for my taste.

“No, I just heard you talking and I was wondering if that was your idea for the English essay.” You know what; I can be just as polite as the next person, thank you very much. “I haven’t started mine yet, but yours sounds interesting.”

“It’s not for my essay,” she snaps.

“Really?” I ask. “Then can I use it for mine?” Come on, say something girl. I need to get yelling at you out of my system.

“I was just working on a little ‘family history’,” she says.

“Whose, yours?” I ask. She glares up at me, all five foot two inches of her. I tower over her by at least half a foot. Come on Ice Queen, fight back. I’m not scared of you. I never have been.

“No, yours,” she snaps at me. I cross my arms to keep from striking her. No matter what, I need the upper hand.

“Why, you spoiled little bi-”I stop myself. The second I lose control, she wins. “Get it through your minuscule airhead brain that I DON’T CARE. Say what you want about me. But don’t talk about what YOU DON’T KNOW. Do the whole world a favor and SHUT UP for ONCE in your life. Ok?” I walk past her, towards the door. Almost there, I turn around. She’s still standing at me, staring with her mouth wide open. For once the Queen is speechless. I raise my hand, a tightly curled fist, at her. Slowly I extend one finger, flipping her off for emphasis. I don’t wait to see her reaction. Like I said, I don’t care anymore. I never really did.

I’ve already eaten and (horror of horrors!) started my homework when I hear a knock on the door. I don’t answer it. My brother would have his keys and I’m not so stupid as to open the door for a stranger. Instead, I go to my room. Who ever it is knocks harder.

Apathy is now a religion and I am its loyal follower. Hello music, my oblivion. The knocking is gone now. Silence for three golden minutes. Then…CRACK!

They did not just break down my door. (This is the part where I turn out to be a real idiot. I go to check what happened.)

There’s a man standing in my doorway. He’s breathing heavily and he’s shaking. Right away I know two things about him. One; he’s an addict in need of a fix and two; he was strong enough to kick down the door. He looks very familiar. Maybe he’s a friend of Geoff’s. (But why would one of Geoff’s friends kick down the door?)

“Where’s Geoff?” he asks.

“He’s out,” I say. I’m too surprised to be scared. “Maybe if you come back in an hour…?”

“I don’t have an hour,” he says, “I need it now. Where’s Geoff?” He’s digging in his pocket. If I was smarter, this would be a warning sign to shut up and run.

“Sorry,” I say. “Geoff’s gone. He took his stuff with him. Maybe later-” I put a hand on his shoulder. Bad move number two. His arm glances up and seconds later there’s a piece of metal stuck in my chest. A knife. It’s small, a little bigger than a pocket knife, but it’s in all the way to the hilt. He yanks it out and runs away as I collapse to the floor. My blood is gushing everywhere. I pull myself up long enough to grab the phone before falling again. I don’t know where he got me, but it hurts. I’m a little dizzy. With one hand clutching my side, I slowly dial three digits. 9-1-1. I don’t care if they arrest Geoff. I don’t want to die. Not yet and not like this.

“Hello Sir or Madam. Please state your emergency,” it sounds like an auto-recording to me. Some help that’ll be.

“I’m bleeding,” I say. “I just got stabbed. An ambulance might be nice.” I guess I can only control sarcasm when my guts aren’t about to fall out.

“Sir, there is no need to be sarcastic,” the lady says. “Please state your location.”

Quickly I gasp out my address. She hangs up on me. I drop the phone as the world fades out. I’m…I’m… I’m…gone…

…Hello, tunnel. Hello, light.

CHAPTER 10 KATIE

I think I’m in some sort of shock. I mean, I have to be – one of my closest friends just died. I’m surprised I’m functioning enough to get through a normal day of school – not that I’ve had one since he died – but somehow, I make it through school, through my day, and now we (Tabby and I) are sitting in the auditorium. I’m not sure why we’re here. It’s not like the play’s going to go on with one of the leads killed right before the big night. Sure, “the show must go on,” but I don’t think any of the cast’s ready for it any more. One of the leads dying has caused three leads to be unusable – he’s dead, I’m in shock, and Tabby’s convinced it’s her fault and is trying to fix whatever it is she messed up.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Tabby asks me. I shrug. I really don’t know. I still don’t believe that he’s really dead – part of me is waiting for him to walk into the auditorium, ready for rehearsal and fighting with Tabby over me – even though I saw the coffin. I never actually looked in, though. I don’t know what I would have seen, and I’m not sure I want to know. This way, my last memory of him isn’t one of him lying cold and dead and probably more dressed up than I’d ever seen him, but one of just the end of a normal rehearsal, waiting by the front of the school for his brother to come pick him up while Tabby and I head to her house in the back of her mother’s car. “What kind of an answer is that?” I shrug again. “Are you going to do anything but shrug?” I shrug yet again. Tabby sighs and tries a different tactic. “What are you thinking about?”

“About how the play would’ve gone if he was still around.” Tabby knows who I’m talking about – she accepts my wanting to not say his name, even though it doesn’t make any sense to her. It doesn’t make much to me either, but his name hurts too much even to think. What I said was only a half lie. I was wondering about the play and him – but I was really wondering if he’d think it was stupid that we stopped the play for him, or if he’d be honored, or if he’s wondering why some stupid bunch of drama nerds is doing what they do best – acting – as though they’re sorry that he’s dead. “You?”

“Wondering why it took him dying for me to realize that he’s not what rumor said he was.” I smile in a half-hearted sort of way. So she finally got it.

“At least you realized it,” I reply. Better than some of your old “friends,” I think.

“At least,” she answers. We’re quiet for a while, staring at the completed set. In the quiet of the auditorium, I can hear the busses pulling out of the lot a minute or two later. Tabby and I continue to sit in silence, staring at the set.

“Tabby?”

“Katie?”

“Will you do me a favor?”

“Depends on what the favor is.”

“Will you go with me to the cemetery? I need to talk to him.” Tabby glances at her watch. It’s not even 3 o’clock, and I told my parents I’d be with Tabby until at least 4:30. The cemetery’s about a ten minute walk from school. “I won’t be too long, and you can leave if you have to be home by a certain time.”

“Hold on,” she says, then pulls out her cell phone and texts someone; her mom, probably. “Alright, I’ll stay ‘til 4:30.”

“Thanks,” I say. She stands up and picks up her bag. I sling mine across my shoulder again. We walk out of school, passing one of the janitors on the way. He smiles at us – I think he’s the guy who built the set’s brother, or brother-in-law, so he knows we’re in the play.

Within ten minutes, we’re at the graveyard. I wander around, because I can’t remember where his grave is even though I was just here not even a week ago. Tabby’s following me; I’m pretty sure she knows where it is but she’s letting me wander.

“Look at this, Tabby. Here’s another Harrison, who was born in 1967, who only lived to be thirteen. We wouldn’t have met him if that was him.” Tabby’s quiet for a bit, continuing to walk along the graves and looking at the names.

“Katie? It’s here.” Now that I think about it, that huge willow tree weeping over all these graves is familiar; so is the newness of the mound that’s now him. “Oscar W. Harrison,” it says, and gives his birth date and death date. No inscription, just a big blank spot where there should be one. It looks sad.

“It’s too empty,” I say.

“His gravestone deserves something,” Tabby agrees. “What, though?”

“Well... what was he?”

“Other than the brother of a pot-head?” I smile a bit; glad she can laugh about her mistakes.

“Yes, other than the brother of a pot-head.”

“In the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“I guess, but why would you put that on a gravestone?”

“True...” Tabby spends another minute or two thinking about it. “He was a good friend.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He stayed friends with you even though you were friends with me.”

“You stayed friends with me even though I was friends with him.”

“I suppose. He does deserve something good, though. That, at least.” We stand quietly in the afternoon breeze. Suddenly, it comes to me.

“A good friend who deserved a better chance.” Tabby turns and really smiles at me.

“Perfect. I’ll have them add it later this week.”

“No, don’t. I’ll do it myself.” Tabby looks at me, confused. “You wouldn’t happen to have a chisel and mallet I can borrow, would you?”

I pick up the chisel and take a very deep breath. I hammer one side of the A onto the stone. It doesn’t turn out half bad, actually – just a little crooked. I finish the A and then continue on with the quote. Once I’m done, I’m happy with my work. It’s exactly like I’d imagined it: done by myself and all the more special because of it. It took me forever – it’s well past 4:00 by now. I smile. Wherever Oscar is, he should be happy that I took the time to add the quote myself.

“Tabby?” I call. She’s sitting under the willow, reading a book and waiting for me to be finished. Looking up, she sees that I’ve stopped working, puts her book down, and walks over.

“Perfect,” she says, and it is even though it’s crooked. A good friend who deserved a better chance is exactly what Oscar was.

CHAPTER 11 TABITHA

3 years later

“It’s been three years since I turned my life around. Back when I was a freshman, I had some issues, to put it lightly. I judged people based on what I’d heard about them instead of what I knew. But one experience changed my life completely. As you all remember, a boy named Oscar Harrison would have graduated last year. Instead, his life was cut short by a man with only one intent in mind. At the time, I believed Oscar to be somebody he wasn’t. Now, Oscar is gone. Even though I didn’t like him when he was alive, I remember him fondly. As your valedictorian, the message I would like to leave you all with is ‘don’t judge someone if you don’t even know them’. I learned this lesson the hard way, but now, we’re all going to college, and we’ll have to make new friends, and learn new things, and deal with new issues, and I hope you take this message to heart. Thank you.” After I make my speech, I approach Kat and Amanda. I haven’t spoken to either of them in three years, but I look Kat in the eye, and I say to her, “I forgive you. Good luck.” Then I spin on my heel and make the dramatic exit that I attempted all those years ago, in the cafeteria. I walk to my real friends, Katie and Jeremy. Jeremy came last year, and Katie introduced him to me, and the three of us have totally bonded. But, now we’re going our separate ways. Me, to NYU, for a dual major in drama and physics, Jeremy, to MIT, for computer technology, and Katie’s going backpacking in Europe because she’s not sure what she wants to do with her life. As far as I know, Kat and Amanda didn’t get into any good colleges. Gradually, Kat’s “popularity” has decreased. Apparently, people don’t really appreciate gossiping anorexics girls with bad attitudes.

I can still remember the funeral like it was yesterday. Well, it was yesterday. Same day; only three years ago. I know acted like a b*tch, but it was only because I was scared. I mean, I wasn’t actually friends with Oscar, but I almost felt like it was my fault he died. I mean, I did kind of steal Katie from him that night. And he wouldn’t have been home that night, but over the years, after turning my life around, it was an unseen turn of events that I couldn’t control.

“Hey, Tabby, you in there?” Katie asks me.

“Yeah, I’m just... thinking.”

“About what?”

“Oscar.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. It’s just like, I feel like, if I had put aside my immediate judgments, we could have been good friends. But I guess it’s thanks to him that I’ve changed so much. I mean, it was after the funeral that I decided to, you know, try to get better. I feel like I owe him.”

“Hey, Tabitha,” a voice that sounds vaguely familiar calls out. For second, I fool myself into thinking it’s Oscar. But as I turn around, I realize that the man standing in front of me is none other than Oscar’s brother. “What are you doing here?” I ask. “I thought you were in jail.”

“Well I got out for good behavior and ridiculously high bail. Did that have anything to do with uh… you?”

“Technically, no, but in fact yes.” I’m ridiculously amazed by how similar he is to Oscar. “If you want to be technical, it was my daddy.”

“Well, tell your ‘daddy’ thank you. By the way is there anything he can do to ah, you know, let me out of the state?”

“We’ll see. So, did you like my speech?”

“Dramatic.” Katie and Jeremy cough loudly. I hit Jeremy in the stomach.

“Thank you. Geoff, I feel a need to apologize to you, for how I treated Oscar.”

He interrupts me. “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine, but we can’t think like that. We have to look to the future. Speaking of, I hear you’re heading up to New York. Maybe once they let me out, we could, I don’t know, hang out.”

“Well she’d love it, if you don’t mind hanging out with someone ludicrously theatrical.”

“Katie, will you go talk to your sister or something?” She walks away, dragging Jeremy with her. “That would be cool,” I tell Geoff.

“Well, adieu, Tabby, Katie, Jeremy, random others who are listening, et cetera,” and with that, he essentially vanished into a puff of smoke. Across the room, Katie and Jeremy share a glance and grin at me. I giggle, and I saunter out of the inadequately adorned gymnasium, and straight into the future.

FIN

1. Tabitha graduated from NYU first in her class. She doesn’t respond to reporters so we know very little else. She has hinted that there may be a special someone, so we have no idea how she’s doing

2. Katie left for England immediately following High School and spent the next two years traveling around Europe. She eventually settled down in Rome, Italy. She also declined our invitation of an interview, so we cannot provide anything else.

3. Geoff was arrested the day Oscar died, after drugs were found in their apartment by the people who came with the ambulance. He was given a five year sentence, but was released on parole after two for good behavior. He entered into a rehabilitation facility soon after. Apparently, his brother’s murder inspired him to clean up his act. He currently works in a convenience store and is working on getting his GED.

4. Oscar remained a deteriorating body in a lonely grave. He is still remembered by those who knew him as a good friend, a good person, a strong, persevering young man, and a brilliant performer taken before his time. His grave is no longer fresh, his stone is weathered. Katie’s inscription is still there, crooked letters and all. Every year, Katie and Tabitha come and visit his gravesite. Though he no longer walks the earth, his soul and the lessons he taught by his very existence remain.

Don’t believe every thing you hear. Stereotypes do not define you unless you let them.

THE REAL END

I'M FINISHED

2008-02-25T20:48:00.000-08:00

I finally finished the collaborative short story my friends and I have been working on since the end of last month. I'm proud of us, but I'm not sure I'll ever do another collaboration. This one took much too long and I dislike editing other people work when I cannot change it entirely. I'm bad at keeping our voices separate while I fix things. I also don't appreciate the large amount of undetectable typos that are inevitable. But now that it's (mostly) done...I don't know.

I'd let all three of my readers (you people need to comment so I know you exist) see the finished product, but that won't be available until the last section is added tomorrow. After that, I have no idea. One day, I think I'll collect all my old work and publish it all together. I don't care if none of it connects, I'm to lazy to publish things separately.

Since it is now basically midnight, I'm going to go to sleep. Insomnia is only useful when you don't have anything to do the next day.

this is for a short story colaboration and if u dont know what im talking about, dont read it

2008-02-20T15:34:00.001-08:00

It’s been three months now. You’d think Tabitha, hence forth known as the Ice Queen, would have gotten over my being in the play by now. Obviously I am the most unlucky person in this school, since Her Majesty has declared war. As a matter of fact, since rehearsals started, she’s been getting more and more hysterical. It’s almost enjoyable to watch her face go blank as her insults bounce off of me and on to her.

Speaking of Her Majesty, look who’s hovering around the back rows of the auditorium as I’m about to leave. Her majesty may also be the Blonde Skeleton, but this girl definitely beats her.

“Excuse me,” I say, as if she’s in my way. She turns around. There’s a satisfied smirk on her face. Part of me wants to punch her right now, but that’s not who I am.

“Can I help you?” she asks, a little too sweetly for my taste.

“It’s not for my essay,” she snaps.

“Really?” I ask. “Then can I use it for mine?” Come on, say something girl. I need to get yelling at you out of my system.

“I was just working on a little ‘family history’,” she says.

“Whose, yours?” I ask. She glares up at me, all five foot two inches of her. I tower over her by at least half a foot. Come on Ice Queen, fight back. I’m not scared of you. I never was.

“No, yours,” she snaps at me. I cross my arms to keep from striking her. No matter what, I need the upper hand.

“Would you listen for once in your life, you spoiled little bi-”I stop myself. The second I lose control, she wins. “Get it through your minuscule airhead brain that I DON’T CARE. Say what you want about me. But don’t talk about what YOU DON’T KNOW. Do the whole world a favor and SHUT UP for ONCE in your life. Ok?” I walk past her, towards the door. Almost there, I turn around. She’s still standing at me, staring with her mouth wide open. For once the Queen is speechless. I raise my hand, a fist at her. Slowly I extend one finger, flipping her off for emphasis. I don’t wait to see her reaction. Like I said, I don’t care anymore. I never really did.

Geoff’s a little bit nervous when he picks me up. This means he’s got a deal to make. He drops me off in front of our apartment building. It might as well be made of cardboard, but it’s not a box. He speeds away in the direction of the park. Of course. I microwave left over pizza and stare at the blank television. Geoff swears he’ll get it to work eventually. Yeah, right.
I’ve already eaten and, horror of horrors, started my homework when I hear a knock on the door. I don’t answer it. My brother would have his keys and I’m not so stupid as to open the door for a stranger. Instead, I go to my room. Who ever it is knocks harder. Apathy is now a religion and I am its loyal follower. Hello music, my oblivion. The knocking is gone now. Silence for three golden minutes. Then…CRACK!
They did not just break down my door. (This is the part where I turn out to be a real idiot. I go to check what happened.)
There’s a man standing in my doorway. He’s breathing heavily and he’s shaking. Right away I know two things about him. One; he’s an addict in need of a fix and two; he was strong enough to kick down the door. He looks very familiar. Maybe he’s a friend of Geoff’s. (But why would one of Geoff’s friends kick down the door?)
“Where’s Geoff?” he asks.
“He’s out,” I say. I’m too surprised to be scared. “Maybe if you come back in an hour…?”
“I don’t have an hour,” he says, “I need it now. Where’s Geoff?” He’s digging in his pocket. If I was smarter, this would be a warning sign to shut up and run.
“Sorry,” I say. “Geoff’s gone. He took his stuff with him. Maybe later-” I put a hand on his shoulder. Bad move number two. His arm glances up and seconds later there’s a piece of metal stuck in my chest. A knife. He yanks it out and runs away as I collapse to the floor. My blood is gushing everywhere. I pull myself up long enough to grab the phone before falling again. I don’t know where he got me, but it hurts. I’m a little dizzy. One hand clutching my side, I slowly dial three digits. 9-1-1. I don’t care if they arrest Geoff. I don’t want to die. Not yet and not like this.
“Hello Sir or Madam. Please state your emergency,” it sounds like an auto-recording to me.
“I’m bleeding,” I say. “I just got stabbed. An ambulance might be nice.” I guess I can only control sarcasm when my guts aren’t about to fall out.
“Sir, there is no need to be sarcastic,” the lady says. “Please state your location.”
Quickly I gasp out my address. She hangs up on me. I drop the phone as the world fades out. I’m…I’m…gone.

2008-02-18T15:03:00.000-08:00

if u havent read the original Cuth Roen, IGNORE the previous post

2008-02-18T15:02:00.001-08:00

All great stories begin with the perfect introduction. The one perfect sentence guaranteed to intrigue anyone reading it. I don’t know if this is a great story. I would seem prejudiced no matter what. So let’s set the scene, shall we?

A claustrophobic kitchen. A slender boy with long blue hair sets a still glowing cigarette down gently on a plate next to a toaster. A tall young man walks in wearing only sweatpants and hugs the boy. They kiss. The sun has yet to rise. Fast forward two hours…

“Princess, where’s my wallet?”

“How should I know?” Dumitru sat at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of tea in his hand. Edur was running in circles, tearing the small apartment to pieces. The afore mentioned wallet was sitting on top of the toaster, dangerously close to falling on Dumitru’s lit cigarette. Dumitru noticed this danger and moved the cigarette to the safer location of his mouth.

“You could help me look instead of just sitting there. And I’m about to be late for work!” exclaimed Edur.

“Relax, baby, you’re not late yet, and Victoria never gets mad, so I don’t see why you’re so worried. It’s gonna be ok,” soothed Dumitru. He patted the chair next to his, beckoning Edur to sit down.

“How do you know?” demanded Edur.

“Edur,” said Dumitru calmly. He took a drag on his cigarette, desperately refraining from laughing.

“Yeah?” Edur was currently rifling through a closet and had his back to Dumitru.

“Check the toaster.” Edur turned around and a look of relief crossed his face.

“Dumitru, you’re amazing, what did I do before I met you?” He crossed the room, grabbed the wallet, kissed Dumitru, and ran out the door. Dumitru was left sitting at the table, shaking his head and smiling.

About fifteen minutes later, Edur walked through the door of the Griffen Wing Tattoo shop. Jaimy and Victoria both looked up at him and then returned to what they were doing.

“Late night again, Edur?” asked Jaimy. She was in the middle of tattooing a lizard on a guy’s arm. He smacked him self in the forehead. This guy was a client he’d met with yesterday, this tattoo was supposed to be his work.

“Sorry, Edur. Jaimy got here on time. We weren’t sure when you’d get in, considering how you’ve been recently, so I let her do it,” said Victoria. She was busy sketching a lotus blossom, while her client, a young girl of about sixteen, waited patiently. He’d just set his stuff down at his station when Victoria said; “Edur, you need to be at the front desk incase a client comes in. Come on, you’ve only worked here since we opened.”

“I know that, Victoria” answered Edur mournfully. Within seconds of taking his place behind the desk, Miche’s mowhawked head walked through the door.

“Hello ladies,” he said cheerfully, “hey, Edur.”

“Hey, Miche” returned Edur. “What’s up?”

“I want you to add my lucky coin to that sleeve you started on my right arm. You know, the ridiculously complicated one,” Said Miche.

“Since when do you have a lucky coin?” asked Edur.

“Since I decided it would go with the rest of the sleeve and ’sides it’s a good story if a girl asks why there’s a coin on my arm” answered Miche. “I was also considering putting it on my head, with that Cuth Roen sign, but I had a feeling you would sooner drive a knife through my brain.”

“You know you’re pathetic, right?” When Miche didn’t answer Edur stuck out his hand. “Give me the coin so I can get a stencil made”

“Don’t you have a coin of your own to use?” asked Miche, knowing very well that Edur would probably keep the coin. Miche didn’t make enough to give his friends free money.

“Isn’t supposed to be your lucky coin?” asked Edur with an evil grin.

“Shut up. You know I just made that up” Edur kept his hand outstretched. Scowling, Miche gave him the coin. “I want that back, you know.”

“What you want and what you will get are two very different things,” was all Edur would say. About two minutes later, he said “Ok idiot, go sit in the chair over there. I promise this will hurt. A lot.”

“Why’m I an idiot?” Miche actually had to ask.

‘You’re the one getting a coin you’ve probably only had for a few hours tattooed on your arm. Where, I might add, it will stay for the rest of your life. Seems a bit idiotic to me,” said Edur, sitting down at his station. “But whatever, it’s your body. Now get over here so I can get this over with.”

“Yes sir, Master Asshole, sir.” Miche gave a mocking bow. Edur had done almost every tattoo on Miche’s body. He’d had several opportunities to kill Miche. This banter/ arguing routine was entirely normal. The two were actually very good friends.

“Ok, ready when you are” said Edur, sitting down with a needle in his hand. As he began the tattoo, Miche asked;

“How’s Dumitru?”

“Good, actually, he said he’d stop by later. He also said he’d let me tattoo him again later this week. Pick which one you believe”

“Gonna stop by his work later too?”

“What’s the fun of dating a bartender if you don’t get free drinks?”

“Well said, my friend, well said” said Miche.

“That does remind me, how’s he been since you got back?” asked Jaimy. Recently Edur had taken a trip to Sonig to study with the masters. He’d returned six months later. Dumitru hadn’t had much contact with Edur’s coworkers during that time. They all believed that Edur and Dumitru were the perfect couple and often checked to make sure that this did not change. It got quite annoying after awhile. Edur was a very easy going person, but even he could only take so much.

“He missed me as much as I missed him. Don’t worry guys, we’re not gonna break up anytime soon, so you can stop asking how he is, ok? It’s getting really obnoxious.” He put down the needle and said; “I’m done, if you care enough you can go look at it in the mirror before I wrap it up.”

“Just remembered, can you get Dumitru off work and into the Silver Falcon tonight?” asked Miche as he counted bills into Edur’s waiting hands.

“Why?” asked Edur, feeling that he was missing something. Something important.

“Because his birthday’s tomorrow, and I’m not gonna be there,” explained Miche. Normally it was Edur who had a head for dates, but I suppose that rationality has to take a break ever now and again.

“Oh yeah” Edur spoke slowly, trying to remember. “I think we had something planned by ourselves tomorrow anyway.”

“So will you get him there?”

“I’ll try,” said Edur, mulling over the thought. This might work. A surprise would be a good present for Dumitru. Or not, considering…

“Try what?” Dumitru walked through the door, getting a hug and kiss from Edur before repeating himself.

“I said I’d try to get you to the Silver Falcon tonight,” said Edur. If Miche was bad with dates, Dumitru was horrible. It was a daily occurrence for Dumitru to forget people’s birthdays. Even his own.

“Why?” I prove my point.

“Doesn’t someone have a birthday tomorrow?” Edur was teasing now, and thoroughly enjoying it.

“Who?” You had to be there, but Dumitru’s face had the look of a confused and lost puppy. It was both adorable and sad.

“You!” Even Miche felt bad for him now.

“No, my birthday’s the fifteenth.” Miche shook his head, this was hopeless!

“Today’s the fourteenth.” Jaimy finally arose as the voice of reason. Besides, she was sitting next to a calendar.

“Really?” When people with large eyes make them wider, the effect is comical. Both Miche and Jaimy burst into laughter.

“Dumitru, have you ever looked at a calendar in your life?” exclaimed Miche.

“No, why should I?” asked Dumitru as Edur walked over and wrapped him in a bear hug.

“Princess” said Edur, him mouth a breath away from Dumitru’s ear. “You’re going with Miche and me to the Silver Falcon tonight, and you’re celebrating your birthday with me tomorrow. And there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“Ok, ok, ok!” said Dumitru. “I’ll go.”

“Good” said Edur before leaning down to kiss Dumitru.

“If all you’re gonna do is kiss your boyfriend, you can leave” said Jaimy. I don’t know whether she was genuinely annoyed or trying to help. Either way…

“Thank you Jaimy.” The two left the shop without another word.

“Keep letting him do that and he probably won’t even come in the shop any more” Miche commented dryly. He leaned against the front desk, heavy-lidded eyes staring. He smiled at her, clearly thinking her a silly child. Or trying to flirt. You never can tell with Miche.

“Well, I just wanted to let them spend some time together: to make up for when Edur was away.” Jaimy tried lamely to justify her actions. Miche just kept smiling. Infuriated, she turned away and began to count the money her client had given her before leaving. She counted seven times. Amazingly, the amount didn’t change.

“Ignoring me won’t make me go away” said Miche, still grinning like a jack-o-lantern. He lost one of his teeth years ago, and the effect is Halloween-esque. He insists on showing this off at every available moment. Miche also has a habit of grinning to annoy people. Having an extraordinarily obnoxious personality in general doesn’t hurt this goal.

“Either make you useful or leave my shop” Victoria snapped from her seat.

“I believe I fancy a smoke right now, so I’ll have to excuse myself from your company” Said Miche, putting on comical airs. “But never fear, I shall return to you all soon.” He took another theatrical bow and walked out. Victoria snickered into her hand.

“It’s not just that smoke he fancies” commented Victoria from her seat. To her client she said. “You can sit down now, I’m finished the stencil”

“Oh shut up Victoria. Don’t you have a tattoo to start?” asked Jaimy. She went to take the empty place behind the counter. “You don’t have to try to see what isn’t there.”

“Yes, but due to the skill of multi-tasking, I can keep talking to you as well” said Victoria. To her client she apologized. “The shop’s not usually this hectic”

“That’s ok, for me hectic is normal. I’m Marietta, Jaidan’s new roommate” said the girl, smiling. She had a quiet, gentle voice.

“Jaidan Tomak?” asked Jaimy. “I thought you looked familiar.”

“Yep, her and Toni are my roommates” said Marietta, not even wincing as the needle entered her skin.

“Toni Maritici and Jaidan Tomak? Damn girl, how long have you had to put up with those two?” exclaimed Victoria.

“’bout two and a half years” answered Marietta. “It’s not as crazy as you’d think.”

“Now you’re the crazy one. I mean Jaidan’s like, my best friend, but I wouldn’t want to live with her. And don’t get me started on Toni”

“Hey everybody” Jaidan walked through the door, closely followed by Toni. Ah, you got to love Murphy’s law. And karma. And irony. And…I don’t know what else.

“And speak of the devils” said Jaimy.

“Jaidan, you should have been here two hours ago. That means you’ll be staying late to clean up the shop. Again” said Victoria. “Marietta, you’re done, you can go check that in the mirror.”

“Ok” said Marietta, jumping off the chair and walking straight to the mirror. “That looks awesome, thank you.”

“No problem. Jaidan, clean up Edur’s stuff, he’s not coming back until day after tomorrow at least” said Victoria.

“Why?” It was Toni who asked, Jaidan busy clearing away Edur’s inks and needles.

“Jaimy told him to leave if kissing Dumitru was all he was gonna do. He listened to her.”

“That reminds me, isn’t Dumitru’s birthday tomorrow?’ asked Toni.

“Yeah. Edur asked for tomorrow off a month ago, so I can’t make him stay. He’ll probably stop by to say hi anyway, so you can say happy birthday then, or you can come with me and Jaimy to celebrate at the Silver Falcon with them and Miche tonight.”

“We’re going?” asked Jaimy.

“Well duh!” said Victoria. “Did you think I’d let any party go by and not crash it? And besides Dumitru’s our friend too. We don’t want him to think we forgot about him, do we?”

“Do my ears deceive me?” The door banged closed as Miche walked back in.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave?” asked Victoria.

“I merely went out for a smoke; I wasn’t actually listening to you.” Miche’s temper only arises when he’s being petty. “And in more pressing events, did I just hear you say you were going to crash my little party tonight?”

“Yes, is that a problem?” Asked Victoria coolly.

“Yes, actually, as I was planning on paying, and there is no way on earth that I can pay for nine people with my current salary.”

“We can pay for ourselves” said Jaimy.

“Speak for yourself” said Toni, pulling a blue papered cigarette out of her purse.

“Don’t you dare smoke Serpents breath in here” reprimanded Victoria. “I don’t care why you have it, but you will not smoke in my shop.”

“Yes ma’am “said Toni sheepishly. “Can I smoke a normal one?”

“Not inside” answered Victoria. Toni put the cigarettes back in her purse and pulled out what looked like a piece of blue candy, inspected it briefly, and stuck it in her mouth.

“You don’t have any problems with dragonsnap, do you Victoria?” asked Jaidan, holding up a metal pill box.

“Not as long as I can have one.” What Jaidan was talking of was the second most addictive drug in the world, one very common place in Cuth Roen. It was a white pill with a red inside. The outside burned like fire, but the inside was sweet.

“Before you guys ask, no, you can’t have any” said Jaidan, giving one pill to Victoria before swallowing three and putting the box away.

“I can’t believe you’ll allow those in your shop, but you won’t allow this” said Toni, gesturing to her purse. “That shit’s worse than what I’ve got here.”

“I like dragonsnap. I don’t like Serpent’s breath” said Victoria. “And I’m going out for a smoke. When I get back, those of you who work here better be working and the rest of you better be gone.”

Now on to scene two. Fast forward to the evening, in an apartment several blocks away…

“Salem!” Salem rolled over at the sound of his roommate’s voice. “Salem Dizon, get you ass out of bed!”

“Ten more minutes,” muttered Salem into his pillow.

“No, get up now, the Den opens in an hour.”

“I’ll be there on time.” Said Salem. “Now let me sleep.”

“Salem, I made you some coffee. Would you like to have some?” asked his roommate.

“Hand it over then,” said Salem, sticking out a hand.

“As you wish,” said his roommate, as he tipped the cup over Salem’s head. Salem immediately sat up, yelping.

“Goddammit, Oliver, that burns,” he snapped, as he pushed his coffee soaked hair out of his eyes.

“Good to see you up, mate,” said Oliver, a wicked grin on his face.

“One of these days, Oliver, one of these days” muttered Salem as he sat with his head in his hands.

“What was that, Salem?” asked Oliver innocently.

“Get the hell out of my room, you asshole,” said Salem standing up, “and when I get to the kitchen, you’d better have my coffee.”

“Yes, your majesty” said Oliver, taking a mocking bow before running out the door. Salem shut the door after him, and looked in the mirror. He looked pretty bad. His wet hair was pushed back weirdly, and his face had streams of coffee running down it still. Muttering curses at Oliver he walked down the hall towards the bathroom.

“Sorry ‘bout the coffee mate” said Oliver as Salem walked into the kitchen. Salem ignored Oliver and walked past him to the coffee pot like a zombie. “Come on mate, don’t take it personally.”

Salem walked over to the table, picked up a mirror, lined his eyes in black, and threaded about half a dozen silver rings through each ear. They matched the two already glinting through his left eyebrow.

“I mean, think about it” said Oliver. “I could have poured something cold on you.”

Salem waked over to the toaster and put bread in it. He then poured out his coffee in the sink, and refilled the mug with water. Mutely he walked over and dumped it on Oliver.

“I guess I deserved that” said Oliver, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Yes you did Oliver” said Salem. “Yes you did.”

“If only that was the first time someone’s poured a drink on me.” When Salem didn’t respond, he tried again. “Don’t you find it odd that it’s almost eight PM, and you’re just waking up?” asked Oliver, eager to change the subject.

“No” snapped Salem.

” I mean, mate, you sleep most of the day, and you work all night. Doesn’t that sound weird to you?”

“No” repeated Salem. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

“Yeah mate, because gambling is work” said Oliver. Salem kicked him on the way out and slammed the door.” Touchy fellow,” Oliver muttered, rubbing his ankle.

Later that night Salem was in his element, having won seven games of dice, and in the middle of his eighth. He owned seven pairs of dice, all won from master gamblers. Two pairs were weighted, one was magnetized, and the others were normal. His favorite pair was a normal one, black with purple dots, and they had never lost yet. His opponent rolled a twelve. He rolled a seven. Salem held out his hand as his opponent counted bills into it.

“Come again some time,” he called out as the man walked away. A tall girl slid into the vacated spot.

“Hello miss,” said Salem, extending his hand out to shake. “Salem’s the name, dice is the game.”

“Name’s Toni,” she shook his hand, “Here’s my bet.” She set a box of cigarettes on the table.

“Deal. Here’s your dice,” He handed her one of the normal pairs, “Ladies first.”

Toni rolled her dice and got a seven. Salem did the same.

“Time to add to the bet,” Toni said. Salem reached in his pocket and put a few bills next to the cigarettes. They both rolled sevens again. Toni added bills of her own. They rolled again. Sevens.

“The winner of this round gets a kiss from the loser,” Said Salem, “To be taken whenever desired.”

“Deal,” said Toni. She rolled her dice. A five. Salem rolled his. A seven. He put the cash in his pocket before taking all the cigarettes out of the box and putting them in his pocket as well.

“Now mademoiselle, I believe you owe me something else”

“I believe I do” said Toni. The two kissed. Toni pulled away first. She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and wrote a few things down. “This is where I live. You know, in case you want to visit me,” she said, looking up from under long lashes.

“I live at 39 Aslong Lane. And I’m always here until about midnight usually,” said Salem, pocketing the scrap of paper.

“I really need to leave for work now,” said Toni apologetically.

“May I come?” asked Salem innocently.

“You may,” answered Toni. She batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. Together they walked out into the night.

“Rise and shine, Salem,” Oliver’s head loomed over Salem. For a moment there were three of him. “We don’t want to repeat yesterday’s incident, do we?”

“No,” said Salem, quickly sitting up, and immediately regretting it. He had a headache from hell. “What the hell’d you do with your hair?”

“I dyed it,” answered Oliver.

“I can see that,” snapped Salem. Oliver’s hair, usually ragged, shoulder length, and blond, now had about two inches of bright purple at the tips.

“Now enough about me mate, tell me ‘bout your night. My sources tell me you had a very pretty lady on your arm for most of it,” said Oliver innocently, handing Salem his jeans off the floor, where they’d been thrown the night before.

“I’d like your sources first,” muttered Salem, pulling on the jeans. “And then maybe I’d tell you.”

“You know, I rather like my sources alive, considering my sources are me,” said Oliver straight faced, giving Salem a mug of something greenish.

“You do realize that gives me an even bigger reason to kill your sources,” said Salem, before taking a grimacing gulp. “And so does this concoction.”

“And here I was thinking Salem Dizon actually had a heart. Guess I’ll have to tell Toni I was wrong,” Said Oliver, nimbly dodging Salem’s swipe.

“How’d you know her name?” asked Salem in a dead voice, as he walked past Oliver towards the bathroom.

“She told me herself when she left this house a few hours ago.” Oliver called to Salem’s back. Faster than any human being should be, Salem had lifted Oliver by his collar against a wall, with his other arm pulled back to deliver the blow.

“How many years have you known me, Oliver?” asked Salem.

“Ease up mate, I was only kidding,” said Oliver.

“How many?” asked Salem.

“Ten years,” winced Oliver.

“How long have you lived with me?” asked Salem.

“Eight years. Come one mate, put me down.” Though Salem was only one or two inches taller than Oliver, he was clearly stronger. And Oliver had seen people after they bothered Salem. It was not a pretty sight. “I’m friends with her roommates.”

“Ah. And you just happened to be at the Genoin Club last night?’ asked Salem.

“Dumitru’s birthday party. Long story short, Miche dragged me along, and Toni’s roommates were there too, they work with Edur. I thought you knew that. Anyway, we were at the Silver Falcon, and then Dumitru and Edur left, so we all went to go see Toni’s show, but you two were in the alley—“ Salem’s punch swiftly cut off Oliver’s story. Salem dropped Oliver and walked off to the kitchen.

Oliver held his hand to his eye and felt very sorry for starting the discussion in the first place.

I'm actually amazed that I haven't abandoned my blog yet

2008-02-18T10:35:00.000-08:00

Now that I've had this blog since...August, i feel the need for some order and normalcy. I suppose I'll start with what this blog was supposed to be, an update on my work.
1. Cuth Roen(original) is being edited. my plan is to submit that for publishing sometime in the next year. It's not ready yet, but it will be.

2. Cuth Roen II, The Crossroads, is being typed. I'm a slow typer in some aspects, so this should take a while. This also needs editing, but it is not a priority at the moment.

3. Cuth Roen III, Dead End, is a work in progress. I have begun writing it, but I'm currently taking a break to write backstories.

4. I'm working on a play, also for a contest. I'm having writers block.

5. I also have two completely non-related stories that I'm working on.

I just read through that list and realized that I have a lot of work to do. Wish me luck.

Moving on, here's what you can expect from this blog.

1. The Random List of Awesomeness will be updated weekly.

2. I will definitely update at least three times a week. Be prepared to hear me complain.

3. Small pieces, like the paragraph about boredom, will become the norm. This blog is good writing practice.

4. Possibly a web comic.

5. Each week, i will post a new Chapter from Cuth Roen II

that' s all really. Unless you give me chocolate, you really can't expect more.

2008-02-16T09:54:00.003-08:00

the jousting tournament has been canceled

i couldnt get two swords

i apologize

the list of awesomeness continues

2008-02-12T09:45:00.002-08:00

27.lol catz

28.egg chairs

29. Reba-yo

30.the green party assassin

31.purple fork

32.squished bread (it looks like a pickle)

33.actually getting something in the trash from several feet away

34/ the fro formerly known as Larry (it died)

35. the actress has a hair fetish

36.squirlish people

37. ANYTHING THATS NOT A PSSA

38. Questionable Content

39.Sam and Fuzzy

40. Bunny

41. xkcd

42.shortpacked

43. the zenkar's hair

44. the fact that no one who wasnt helping me write this will understand this

45. vitamin water. you know u want to be one of the people who write the things on the side of the bottle

46.CHOCOLATE

47.starbursts

48. cookies

49.atheism quotes

50. shiny

51. badger badger badger badger badger.....(repeat a millinon times)

52. pacman

53. nerds . we are the epitome of awesome

54. sharpies

56. stage crew

57. stickers

58. (please go compare a picture of a japanese maple leaf and a pot leaf and tell me theyre not almost identical)

59.halo3

60. la vie boheme

(to be continued when my friends are nicer and actually give suggestions)

2008-02-11T10:07:00.001-08:00

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

JOUSTING TOURNAMENT

(ALL NERDS WELCOME)

i dont kno

2008-02-07T17:50:00.000-08:00

Boredom is what takes over the minds of those who have nothing to do. People of the world need to stop trying to give bored people something to do. We like our state of being, and we like complaining about it. Or at least I do. So let's see. When I'm bored, I enjoy certain things better, like reading through the same book thirteen times and clicking through the entire archives of certain web-comics. Clicking stumbleupon for thirty minutes is also more enjoyable when I'm bored as opposed to when I'm actually trying to find something. Also, reading other people's incredibly bitchy blogposts when you're bored out of your mind makes them more funny. Actually I'm bored out of my mind right now as I'm writing this. It's actually making me write better, I think.

2008-01-31T19:06:00.000-08:00

GO BACK AND READ FROM THE FIRST CHAPTER OK?