5/8/13
Musings on Death
"Death grins at us all. All we can do is smile back." - Gladiator.
For the past month or so, I've been thinking a lot about the possibility or World War Three. In my opinion, we've got between five and twenty years before somebody (probably North Korea) nukes somebody else (probably America), and World War Three is begun.
Believe it or not, I've actually been anticipating this. Why? Well, as I've expressed before, I am a major chauvinist. I love America, and would happily fight to defend it. That, and I also love indulging in war games, such as airsoft and paintball.
I think that it's natural for everyone to believe that they'll survive anything. As humans, we have a natural survival instinct. So, naturally, I assume that when WWIII comes 'round, I'll be a survivor, right?
Wrong.
Today I was reading the back of a book about Winston Churchill when the thought came to me: I would be in serious risk of sudden death. Soon after, I went on a bike-ride, and these thoughts came to me as I cycled the network of dirt roads around my house.
What if I died right now? What if a meteorite fell on me as I was cycling around. What if a bullet was but through my head? When I die, will it be quick? Or will I be wounded and linger in pain for a while until my body gives up? Will anybody try and save me, or will I be friendless at the end of my life? Will I die a violent death, or a humane death? Will I die my sleep? Will I be hit by a car?
I have no real idea of what will happen, but luckily, I am rest assured that I am saved from hell by the blood of Christ, and am headed to heaven when I die.
5/6/13
IT HAS BEEN TO LONG!
GREETINGS, SON'S OF GONDOR! OF ROHAN! DAUGHTERS OF LOTHLORIEN AND GONDOLIN!
Just wanted to let you know that I'm not dead. I know, it's been a while since I've posted, so just a recap, I'm not dead.
And, just to keep the trend going,
RISING FROM THE ASHES!
THE WINTER SOLDIER!
WHO ELSE IS EXCITED?
4/23/13
Wait, what do we call this?
Well, most of the people who read this blog either a) know me personally or b) have probably figured it out by know.
As Blimey Cow puts it, I've acquired a "Significant Other."
Her name is Grace, my brother calls her 'Grace Phillips', or just simply 'Phillips'.
Now, before I go on, it should be noted that this it not yet a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. Why? Well, I currently don't have two things that I need in order to be a good boyfriend. They are a) the capacity and b) permission.
I don't have the capacity, because I'm only 14. I can't drive and I have no income (spendable income that is). I can't take Grace on a date, because I don't have the resources. If I could drive, and were like a junior in high-school, I'd take her on a date for sure. That, and my parents aren't comfortable with me dating yet. I also see a little bit of worthlessness in dating at this point. There's not really a whole ton that one can do when they can't drive. A date should just be about getting to know that significant other in a deeper way.
So, this is kinda a weird relationship. We don't even know what to call it! We aren't just friends, but we aren't bf and gf.
Currently at the moment, there's only two other kinda/sorta similar relationships going on. For privacy, I won't use real names.
Betty and Bert have liked each other for about a year now, and just recently christened it an official relationship. Yes, that means that they have the coveted status of boyfriend and girlfriend. They haven't been on a date or anything, (as far as I know... NOBODY EVER TELLS ME ANYTHING!) but I think that they just got fed up and made it official.
Tom and Sheila on the other hand, have a slightly more similar situation. Tom is allowed to date. Sheila isn't. this means that they're stuck in this sort of odd game, were they are doing everything that boyfriends and girlfriends do, minus the title. They go to movies together. She goes to his sports events. They hangout all the time.
Me and Grace, well we aren't either of these relationships. We aren't boyfriend and girlfriend, like Betty and Bert, nor are we essentially, but pretending not to be. We aren't just friends. This relationship is "something more", but how much more?
The problem is, I don't think that anybody's ever been in a similar relationship. Or, if they have, it wasn't a big deal. Is there even a socially accepted middle-ground relationship?
Do you guys have any insight?
4/19/13
My Spleen (An Allegory for a Tragedy)
My spleen has always been with me. It's always contentedly sat in my midsection, doing it's job, filtering my blood. Yet, maybe, just maybe, I've taken this little bugger for granted. Have I? What would happen if my spleen just randomly.... disappeared. What if my spleen just picked up and left?
I doubt that he would want to go, after all, everything he knows is in my rib-cage. Well, what if he were forced to leave? He had to be removed to save someone else's life. A spleen transplant.
I think that I do take my spleen for granted.
I think I did take Micheal for granted.
Today, my friend, Micheal moved two hours away. He's always been in my life, contentedly sticking by my side. Me and Micheal, we never had an especially deep friendship, but it was a friendship none the less. In fact, I'd say that it was in the middle-ground between deep friendship and good friendships.
It was a REALLY good friendship. Micheal has always stuck by me, and I have no idea why. He's always been there, and I will sorely miss him.
His departure will be likened to the loss of an organ.
Perhaps a spleen.
4/15/13
Writing and Fantasy
I've been having some epiphanies on this subject lately.
In the past two years that I've been seriously trying to write well, I've been developing a definite style. I've tried writing different genres, but it always circles back around to one thing: Fantasy. I think that it's a rather safe shot to say "You write what you read." Well, I read fantasy. Sure, I read other stuff from time to time, but I just really really really love fantasy.
There's just such a great depth of creativity in fantasy. There is so much you can do with it. The sky is literally the limit with fantasy. Dragons, swords, kings, wars, magic, powers, bows, evil, and a much more powerful good are some of the things that we always think of when it comes to fantasy.
Let's look at that last one: Evil and a good that is much more powerful. Have you ever read a fantasy series were it seemed like there was no way possible that good could win? Probably not. Evil is usually portrated as much, much more powerful, but in the end, good always wins out.
Why is this? Well, maybe it's just becuase man was created inherently good and sin is basically a disease. Using this thinking, you could look at this as good is a strong medicine that always takes care of evil. Well, maybed good always wins becuase it's morally right. Or maybe it's becuase it has pure motives.
I think that good always wins becuase as humans, we always long for things to be resolved. If somebody read a book were in the end, evil killed all the good guys, nobody would read it.
Writing involoves physcology. You don't want to write a book that depresses people, becuase then they'll never pick it up again. I personally hate books were the main character is either a) an orphan and just loafs around and pouts, or b) has divorced parents. I don't want to read a book so that I can feel sorry for the character who's having a pity-party. I want to read a book to be sucked into it. I want to be captured in the story. I only want to feel sorry for a character becuase the writer as made the character so real that I feel his pain when I read about something tragic happens in his life.
Do prefer a story that is driven by the plot or the characters? A story that is about the conflict, or the people involved in the conflict? Both are good in there own place, but I prefer the character driven plot.
Character are what makes a story come to life. It's easy to write a monologue. Writing a real character is really really really difficult. I know, becuase I've tried. You have to literally enter into your character's shoes and look through their eyes. What is going on in their mind? How do they solve problems? What are their strength and weaknesses? You can easily desribe a character physically, but can you descrive one emotionally?
These are all questions I consider when writing a character.
So, this brings me to the subject of what do I do when I write fantasy? What is my fantasy? What does it mean for me to write fantasy? Well, for me, it means that I'm immersing myself in a different world. In this world, I can live through my characters, and enjoy the work of my creativity first hand. When I'm writing a fantasy story, I'm not just putting a few meaningless words on the page. I'm creating a legacy of creativity and magic. I'm putting myself in the story, living in it, then writing about it so that others may enjoy it.
This is why I love to read and to write fantasy. It's a world were I have a six-pack, and can weild a sword better then Gandalf. It's a world were evil is a physical being, and it's my job to send him back to the abyss. It's a world, were you know what you purpose is- but will you follow through with it? It's a world I can lose myself in.
I can lose myself in fantasy. I can create something that I can immerse myself in, and immerse others in. Fantasy is, well, fantastic. Go immerse yourself in some.
In the past two years that I've been seriously trying to write well, I've been developing a definite style. I've tried writing different genres, but it always circles back around to one thing: Fantasy. I think that it's a rather safe shot to say "You write what you read." Well, I read fantasy. Sure, I read other stuff from time to time, but I just really really really love fantasy.
There's just such a great depth of creativity in fantasy. There is so much you can do with it. The sky is literally the limit with fantasy. Dragons, swords, kings, wars, magic, powers, bows, evil, and a much more powerful good are some of the things that we always think of when it comes to fantasy.
Let's look at that last one: Evil and a good that is much more powerful. Have you ever read a fantasy series were it seemed like there was no way possible that good could win? Probably not. Evil is usually portrated as much, much more powerful, but in the end, good always wins out.
Why is this? Well, maybe it's just becuase man was created inherently good and sin is basically a disease. Using this thinking, you could look at this as good is a strong medicine that always takes care of evil. Well, maybed good always wins becuase it's morally right. Or maybe it's becuase it has pure motives.
I think that good always wins becuase as humans, we always long for things to be resolved. If somebody read a book were in the end, evil killed all the good guys, nobody would read it.
Writing involoves physcology. You don't want to write a book that depresses people, becuase then they'll never pick it up again. I personally hate books were the main character is either a) an orphan and just loafs around and pouts, or b) has divorced parents. I don't want to read a book so that I can feel sorry for the character who's having a pity-party. I want to read a book to be sucked into it. I want to be captured in the story. I only want to feel sorry for a character becuase the writer as made the character so real that I feel his pain when I read about something tragic happens in his life.
Do prefer a story that is driven by the plot or the characters? A story that is about the conflict, or the people involved in the conflict? Both are good in there own place, but I prefer the character driven plot.
Character are what makes a story come to life. It's easy to write a monologue. Writing a real character is really really really difficult. I know, becuase I've tried. You have to literally enter into your character's shoes and look through their eyes. What is going on in their mind? How do they solve problems? What are their strength and weaknesses? You can easily desribe a character physically, but can you descrive one emotionally?
These are all questions I consider when writing a character.
So, this brings me to the subject of what do I do when I write fantasy? What is my fantasy? What does it mean for me to write fantasy? Well, for me, it means that I'm immersing myself in a different world. In this world, I can live through my characters, and enjoy the work of my creativity first hand. When I'm writing a fantasy story, I'm not just putting a few meaningless words on the page. I'm creating a legacy of creativity and magic. I'm putting myself in the story, living in it, then writing about it so that others may enjoy it.
This is why I love to read and to write fantasy. It's a world were I have a six-pack, and can weild a sword better then Gandalf. It's a world were evil is a physical being, and it's my job to send him back to the abyss. It's a world, were you know what you purpose is- but will you follow through with it? It's a world I can lose myself in.
I can lose myself in fantasy. I can create something that I can immerse myself in, and immerse others in. Fantasy is, well, fantastic. Go immerse yourself in some.
4/9/13
Great-grandparents
Good Grond, I have been posting some depressing crap recently.
Yes, yes you have. And that is why I have hijacked this post, and am now going to do evil things with it!
A poem: "Roses are red, violets are blue. I love Captain America, and so must you!"
Let's go kick some HYDRA butt!
Yes, yes you have. And that is why I have hijacked this post, and am now going to do evil things with it!
A poem: "Roses are red, violets are blue. I love Captain America, and so must you!"
Let's go kick some HYDRA butt!
4/8/13
A new Pope!
Do you guys remember Banakin and Qui-gon-grin? Hehehehheheheheheee..... let's reincarnate the dead!
In a Galaxy, far, far, away....
After the death of Banakin,
the galaxy seemed to be safe, until
the fearsome Darth Tater rose to power.
His once banana head was grotesquely burned and twisted to look like a potato.
He is now ruling the galaxy with his fearsome fleet of Dorito Destroyers.
An army of nice smelling cologne troopers do his bidding throughout the galaxy. It is at this time that the galaxy mosts needs a hero.
(Looks like the Starwars prologue, right?)
[Opens on a child. He is whining]
Puke: Grown-up male that isn't my dad!?! Why do we live on this stupid dry planet with shaggy goat things and freaky cannibal people?! It sucks here! Grown-up male that isn't my father! Help! the freaky cannibals are attacking me! Grown-up not dad! HELP!
[Puke gets attacked, and old geezer saves him. Wakes up in the geezer's shack]
Puke: Oh, great, another grown-up male that isn't my father.
Geezer: How do I know that I'm not your father?
Puke: Dude, your like, seventy year's old. I'm like eight. Do really expect me to believe that you and some lady had me when you were like seventy-something?
Geezer: I guess that makes sense... qiuck! Watch this hot chick ask for help!
Puke: Is that hologram coming out of a trashcan?
Geezer: No, that's a repurposed trashcan. It's name is Charley.
Charly: Beep boop.
Hologram: SAVE ME! I REALLY REALLY REALLY NEED SOME HELP! S.O.S.! SAVE ME!
Puke: That's nice. I'm hungry. FEED ME!
Geezer: Wait, wait... your not attracted by that hot chick?
Puke: Dude, I'm like eight. Did you expect me to?
Geezer: I thought all boys you age were into girls. Hmmmmm.
Puke: Shows how much you know.
Geezer: Well, I'm kidnapping you so that we can go trapsing across the galaxy and mess everything up.
Puke: Do you even have a ship?
Geezer: Uh... I didn't think of that.
Puke: Old guys take pills everyday, right? All your's must be stupid pills.
Geezer: You one snotty and sarcastic little boy.
Puke: Dude, my name is "Puke." It doesn't really set me up to be a sweet little boys who pets kittens wearing bows.
Geezer: I guess not.
Puke: So, you got a ship or not?
Geezer: No, but theres a bunch of people in a bar down the road. We'll head down there real quick.
Puke: Dude, I'm underage.
Geezer: No! We aren't going for drinks, there a bunch of people there with ships.
Puke: Oh. Whatever.
Geezer: Let's go.
[Time lapse. Puke and Geezer enter the bar and find this scene playing out:]
Fritz: Burrito, I may just have to shoot first. You are making me very... very... Oh, what's the word?
Burrito: Uh... annoyed?
Fritz: No, something stronger than that.
Burrito: Angry?
Fritz: No, something perhaps vulgar.
Burrito: Uh, freakin'?
Fritz: You know what Burrito? I'm just gonna shoot first!
[Pulls out lasergun and shoots Burrito in the knee]
Burrito: GAH! MY ARTICULATIO GENUS!
Fritz: Yeah, serves you right. Freak.
[Geezer taps him on the shoulder. Fritz turns]
Fritz: GAH! My hundred-year-old grandfathe crawled out of his grave!
Geezer: I'm not your grandpappy, you delusional whippersnapper!
Fritz: You are his spittin' image.
[Fritz spits to get his point across]
Geezer: Well, that's beside the point.
Fritz: Then what is the point?
Geezer: We need a ship. And a fast one.
Puke: What are we gonna do? Enter the Indy 500?
Fritz: Heh, don't talk about the Indy. My parellel character's actor was an Indy. Indiana Jones to be, uh, what's the word?
Puke: SPITOON!
Fritz: What? How does that fit in context?
Puke: I don't know. That's just my favorite word.
Fritz: Whatever shrimpy.
Geezer: So, do you have a ship?
Fritz: Yeah, the fastest one out there. She's the Donut Flash.
Geezer: Excellent. We depart immediatley.
Fritz: Hold your horses, old crotchety. First we have to stop at the kennel to get my friend.
Puke: We're bringing a dog?
Fritz: A dog? No, my buddy and copilot, he's kinda hairy. They don't let him in the hotels 'cuz he's shedding right now.
Geezer: Oh my....
Puke: That is disgusting.
Fritz: Yeah well, Cherrio is a hairy one. Come on.
Puke: Wait, I gotta finish my drink.
Geezer: PUKE!
Puke: Just kidding. Let's go get the living hairball.
[They leave the bar and walk down the road to the kennel. Walk into the kennel]
Cheerio: MRAWWWHH!
Fritz: Yeah, I love you too big guy.
Puke: Were did that noise some from? All I see is hair.
Fritz: That's Cheerio.
Puke: Holy crap. I thought that it was the world's largest hairball.
Fritz: Obviously not. Cheerio's living, hairballs are, uhm, what's the word I'm looking for?
Geezer: Living?
Fritz: No, four syllables I think.
Cheerio: Mrawh?
Fritz: YES! That's the word I'm looking for.
Puke: Really dude? You can understand the Beast from the Bowel of a Cat?
Fritz: Cheerio. Her name is Cheerio.
Puke: IT'S FEMALE?
Fritz: Heck, yeah.
Geezer: Can we get to the Donut Flash? It's sorta urgent.
Fritz: I wouldn't be walking to fast if I were you. Are old are you? 70? 80? You might hurt your back.
Geezer: My age is out of the question.
Fritz: Don't you have, like, a walker or something?
Geezer: My age is not the matter at hand. Get Cheerio and let's blast off.
[Fritz takes Cheerio from her kennel]
Fritz: Blast's off? Really? What is this, the 60's?
Geezer: Whatever. Let's go.
[The foursome walk towards a hanger. A newspaper blows past Puke. He picks it up and reads the heading]
Puke: Hey, listen to this: Darth Tater Elected New Inter-Galactic Pope.
Geezer: What on Tatoo?
Fritz: What's it supposed to mean?
Cheerio: MRAWH!
Puke: What's a pope?
Geezer: I've heard them... they seem to be important to an alien race known as the 'Catholics.' If Darth Tater has been made the Inter-Galactic Pope, that means he's taken over yet another solar system. This is not a good sign.
CLIFFHANGER! Stay tuned for more from Puke, Geezer, and Fritz!
Cheerio: MRAWWWHH!
Fritz: Yeah, I love you too big guy.
Puke: Were did that noise some from? All I see is hair.
Fritz: That's Cheerio.
Puke: Holy crap. I thought that it was the world's largest hairball.
Fritz: Obviously not. Cheerio's living, hairballs are, uhm, what's the word I'm looking for?
Geezer: Living?
Fritz: No, four syllables I think.
Cheerio: Mrawh?
Fritz: YES! That's the word I'm looking for.
Puke: Really dude? You can understand the Beast from the Bowel of a Cat?
Fritz: Cheerio. Her name is Cheerio.
Puke: IT'S FEMALE?
Fritz: Heck, yeah.
Geezer: Can we get to the Donut Flash? It's sorta urgent.
Fritz: I wouldn't be walking to fast if I were you. Are old are you? 70? 80? You might hurt your back.
Geezer: My age is out of the question.
Fritz: Don't you have, like, a walker or something?
Geezer: My age is not the matter at hand. Get Cheerio and let's blast off.
[Fritz takes Cheerio from her kennel]
Fritz: Blast's off? Really? What is this, the 60's?
Geezer: Whatever. Let's go.
[The foursome walk towards a hanger. A newspaper blows past Puke. He picks it up and reads the heading]
Puke: Hey, listen to this: Darth Tater Elected New Inter-Galactic Pope.
Geezer: What on Tatoo?
Fritz: What's it supposed to mean?
Cheerio: MRAWH!
Puke: What's a pope?
Geezer: I've heard them... they seem to be important to an alien race known as the 'Catholics.' If Darth Tater has been made the Inter-Galactic Pope, that means he's taken over yet another solar system. This is not a good sign.
CLIFFHANGER! Stay tuned for more from Puke, Geezer, and Fritz!
4/3/13
Ignorance is Bliss?
Some people say ignorance is bliss.
When you have a problem, I'm assuming (and only assuming) that you do one of several things.
When you have a problem, I'm assuming (and only assuming) that you do one of several things.
- Ignore it, either because you hope you can ignore it or because you cannot do anything to solve it
- Find a good solution and solve the problem
- Make the problem worse (which, I assume, only happens if it is NOT your problem.)
Sometimes, these problems cause pain. Oftentimes, what I wish to do with these problems that cause pain is the first option; ignore it completely. Pretend I don't have a problem. Pretend life is good, grand, happy, blissful.
Unfortunately for me, ignoring the problem makes it hit even harder when it returns.
And trust me, when you ignore a problem, it'll come back. Good or bad, it will come back.
It's kind of like a physical ailment. You might do something to wound your shoulder, for instance. You might even go and get it looked at. Say it's a serious wound that needs treatment. The longer you wait, pretending the wound doesn't exist, the worse it gets.
Okay, that was kind of a bad example.
You know how in books, movies and stories, the hero is generally able to ignore the pain of an injury. Ignore the pain, block it out, become consumed by other things that are greater than the pain. You'll remember specifically in the Hunger Games when Katniss "sojourns on" after getting severely burned.
I've had to do this once or twice. Swallow pain. It's hard, and I assure you of that, and give kudos to those who do it. But it doesn't usually last, unless you've just received a shot from the doctor's. You can only keep up the wall for so long before it falls, and the pain comes back, perhaps even worse than before.
I'm not just talking about physical pain. There's emotional pain as well. Sometimes, this is the worse of the two pains.
It's not always the best solution to simply throw words, actions, relationships away and move on, pretending they never happened.
Because they come back.
You never truly forget anything. Memories from your childhood that you assumed forgotten tend to drift back at random moments, occasionally giving you an "ah hah" moment. Your mind can purposefully choose not to relive a certain moment. But that doesn't mean the moment is gone- no, it isn't. It stays, lingering, just waiting for the right moment to strike.
For me, it's when I've had a rough day at school; at home; wherever; and can't find a good outlet for that bad feelingness. For whatever reason, my mind decides, "Hey, remember that one time your brother told you to go to Hell?" or "Oh, man, that one kid at school called you a lady dog!" or "Really, Rine? You can't even get one stupid US History assignment done?"
Telling myself to stop doesn't work; my brain has already run down those synapses that bring along the degrading memories of what others, what you have said about yourself.
Soon it falls into full-out "I can't do this" mode. And I shut down.
Some people are wrong. Ignorance is not bliss.
4/1/13
GAH! WE NEED SOME RANDOMNESS!
Okay, the last two posts followed the Captain America theme, and I'm sorry if they were mildly redundant. I kinda just rambled on about what was on my mind. My friend/ something more/ no comment, Grace, got me on a Captain America kick.
SO NOW IT'S TIME TO GET RANDOM!
okAY, SO I'M TAKING- WAIT HOW DID I GEt stuck on cap's lock? Well then. If the computer wants to get rabid, then go right ahead Mr. Computer. Peice of junk....
Anyhoo, I'm takin art classes over spring break! However, I'm not really sure that I'm taking the right class for what I want to learn. The class was advertised as a How-to-draw-comics class, but it's more like Draw-stuff-and-listen-to-the-manga-and-anime-nerds-talk. My strategy for this class is: Shut up and draw.
It doesn't really help that one of the girls in the class is a "True-Believer" as she puts it. And, this isn't reffering to following Christ. That's right folks, she's a conspiracy theorist. I'm sort or wondering what would be the best way to argue my points concerning alien life.... she's pretty avid about it, and all the argumentive points that I've ever heard on this topic are based off the Bible, so I don't really have anything to use to argue my side, which is that alien life is non-existent. If you have any advise, comment.
My lovely manga obsessed teacher opened up the class like this:
"What are all your guy's favorite comics and stuff to read?"
Manga nerd girl #1: "I'm and totally obsessed with Black Butler."
Teacher: "[Manga jargon deleted]"
Manga nerd girl #2: "OOoooH! I love Black Butler and any other creepy fantasy stuff!"
Teacher: "[Manga/anima jargon deleted]"
Manga boy nerd: "[{Okay, I seriously have no idea what he said. He was talking REALLY fast. Now that I think about it... they all did.]}"
Teacher: "[Spits out some more jargon then turns to me] 'What do you like to read?'"
Me: "Uh.... Marvel Comics?"
Teacher: "[Spits jargon about the difference between western comics and manga/anime]"
And it doesn't help that they spend the six hour class talking about their favorite manga, videogames, and anime movies. LET'S TALK ABOUT LORD OF THE RINGS!
On a totally unrelated note, I've found out why I'm never hungry around the, uh, affore mentioned, uh, girl/ friend/ something more, Grace.
You see when a person is nervouse, (which I always am aroung Grace), the body releases adrenaline. Adrenaline takes blood from organs such as the stomach that aren't needed immediately, and sends it to parts of teh body that may need it more, such as the arms and legs. This makes the stomach slow down and I don't get hungry. You need to go on a diet? Hang out with a really attractice girl (Oh, wait, did I just proclaim that for the entire world to know....? Oh, what the heck.)
You know, I'm always coming across the delemna: How do you puncuate a sentence in parenthese? Do you put the puncuation with in the parenthese, (like this.) Or does it just chill out like a loner outside the parenthese, (like this).
Oh well.
For a second there I though that Sam Flynn from TRON: Legacy and Harry Osborne from the Spiderman trilogy were played by the same actor... then I looked it up. They aren't.
Fighting.... the urge.... to talk... about..... CAPTAIN AMERICA!
okAY, I NEED TO END THIS POST- GAH! IT'S STuck on... oh never mind.
I need to end this post, or it will turn into more you-know-what stuff.
FOR GONDOR.... AND CAPTAIN AMERICA!
3/28/13
Musing of Captain America
{Qoutations may contain some breif, mild profanity, but as George Patton said, 'You can't run an army without profanity.'}
I have one duty, and that is to be a man. But not just a man in the physical sense, but really, truly a man. I must reject pasivity, accept responsibility, and lead couragously.
I am Will Christian De Man, also known as Captain America. I have a responisbilty, a duty, a truth about me. It is this one truth: I am composed of a duty, honor, and courage.
Courage- it can be so hard to be couragoues sometimes. But, General George S. Patton of the Third Army said: "A real hero is he who fights when he is scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes an hour. For some it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overpower his honour, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood."
I make mistakes, so do you. But, Patton also said, "We don't measure succes by how high a man climbs, but how high he bounces when he hits the bottom."
Lets remember those words for often. So often the world will judge you by how high you climb, and you are only succesful if you reach the top. But we will all fall. Over and over again, we're just gonna keep on falling. And bouncing. Bounce high, and then you will be succesful.
Trying something again, and bouncing take courage. Stand, show your mettle, and bounce again.
I'm a leader. I didn't choose this role, it's just were God had put me. Patton also said "War is fought with weapons, but it is won by men. It is the spirit of men that follow and of the man who leads that gains victory."
"We herd sheep, we drive cattle, we lead people. Lead me, follow me, or get out of my way."
Just read that last qoutation again. Think about, and do it. I'm going to end this post with a few more qoutes, which will sum all this up. Take a wild guess as to who they're from.
"Battle is the most significant competition in which a man can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of manhood."
"A good plan violently executed now is better then a perfect plan executed next week."
"Better to fight for something then live for nothing."
"AMERICAN PLAY TO WIN AT ALL TIMES. I WOULDN'T GIVE A HOOT IN HELL FOR MAN WHO LOST AND LAUGHED. THAT IS WHY AMERICANS HAVE NEVER LOST NOR EVER WILL LOSE A WAR."
I have one duty, and that is to be a man. But not just a man in the physical sense, but really, truly a man. I must reject pasivity, accept responsibility, and lead couragously.
I am Will Christian De Man, also known as Captain America. I have a responisbilty, a duty, a truth about me. It is this one truth: I am composed of a duty, honor, and courage.
Courage- it can be so hard to be couragoues sometimes. But, General George S. Patton of the Third Army said: "A real hero is he who fights when he is scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes an hour. For some it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overpower his honour, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood."
I make mistakes, so do you. But, Patton also said, "We don't measure succes by how high a man climbs, but how high he bounces when he hits the bottom."
Lets remember those words for often. So often the world will judge you by how high you climb, and you are only succesful if you reach the top. But we will all fall. Over and over again, we're just gonna keep on falling. And bouncing. Bounce high, and then you will be succesful.
Trying something again, and bouncing take courage. Stand, show your mettle, and bounce again.
I'm a leader. I didn't choose this role, it's just were God had put me. Patton also said "War is fought with weapons, but it is won by men. It is the spirit of men that follow and of the man who leads that gains victory."
"We herd sheep, we drive cattle, we lead people. Lead me, follow me, or get out of my way."
Just read that last qoutation again. Think about, and do it. I'm going to end this post with a few more qoutes, which will sum all this up. Take a wild guess as to who they're from.
"Battle is the most significant competition in which a man can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of manhood."
"A good plan violently executed now is better then a perfect plan executed next week."
"Better to fight for something then live for nothing."
"AMERICAN PLAY TO WIN AT ALL TIMES. I WOULDN'T GIVE A HOOT IN HELL FOR MAN WHO LOST AND LAUGHED. THAT IS WHY AMERICANS HAVE NEVER LOST NOR EVER WILL LOSE A WAR."
3/25/13
Captain America
I love Captain America. I don't love him becuase he's invincible or is super powerful. I don't like him because he has awesome superpowers, or adamantium claws. I like him becuase he is pure. He's pure in every sense of the word. There is nothing about Captain America that is inferior or contaminating.
I've been told that I'm a lot like Captain America. One of my friends even calls me Cap sometimes. It may just be our similar Myers Briggs Personality Type, ENTJ/ESTJ with a slight fluxiation of iNtuitive over Sensing. It may be that we both love America and everything that it was meant to stand for it.
We're both natural born leaders. I've been in simulated war zones, and you can ask any of my buddies, when we're playing airsoft, I always take command. Captain America take command immediately in any situation.
Captain America is not afraid to stand for what he believes. Neither do I. Consider this Captain America qoute:
"It doesn't matter what the press says. It doesn't matter what the mob or the politicians say. It doesn't matter if the entire country decides that something wrong is right. This nation was founded on one principle above all else: The requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter the odds or the consequences. When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the River of Truth and tell the whole world, 'No, you move.'"
I stand for everything that I beleive with a wide, iron stance. Push me over- I dare you. Argue my beliefs with me- they're infallible. Why? Because my beliefs are passed solely upon the Bible, which is the word of God.
Another similarity is that I don't let my emotions affect my desicions. Captain America does this too. For instance, at the end of the movie Captain America: The First Avenger Cap is faced with choice: Crash the plan and potentially die, leaving behind everything that he's developed over the short time that he was Captain America, or he can try and save his life. He chooses the descision that will not benefit himself, but those around him.
I would die to save two lives, let alone a million.
So, if you ever need a Captain America, I'm your man. Add a comment if you too love Captain America.
3/21/13
Qoute-tastic
If you know me, you know that I LOVE qoutes, and work them into conversation a great deal. Here are few of my favorites:
"Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My Brothers!
I see in you eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me.
There will come a day when the age of men fails.
But it is not this day.
In an hour of wolves! And shattered shield, when we forsake our friends, and break all bonds of fellowship.
But it not this day!
This day we fight!
By all, that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand,
Men of the West!"
- Aragorn, the Lord of the Rings, the Return of the King
"Arise, Riders of Theoden!
Fell deeds awaken, Fire and Slaughter!
Ere the sun rises on this day,
A sword day! A red day!
Ere the sun rises!
Ride, ride now! Ride, Ride ofr ruin,
And the end of all things!
Theoden, the Lord of the Rings, the Return of the King
"You have enemies? Good. That means that at some point your life, you stood up for something."
- Winston Churchill
"Your only alive once, as far as we know, what could be worse then getting to the end of you life, and realizing you hadn't lived it?
- Edward Albee
"The Grid.
A digital frontier.
I tried to imagine clusters of information as they move through the computer.
What did they look like? Motorcycles? Ships?
Were the circuits like freeways?
I kept dreaming of a world, I thought I'd never see.
And then, one day...
I got in!"
- Flynn, TRON: Legacy
"True inspiration is impossible to fake."
-Dominic Cobb, Inception
"Faithless is he that says 'farewell' when the road darkens."
- J.R.R. Tolkien
"Not all who wander are lost."
- J.R.R. Tolkien
"Courage is found in unlikely places."
- J.R.R. Tolkien
"If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world."
- J.R.R. Tolkien
"End? No, death is simply a path- one that we all must take."
- Gandalf, the Lord of the Rings, the Return of the King.
" I've known people that the wolrd has thrown everything at to discourage them.. to break their spirit. And yet, something about them reatin diginity. They face life and don't ask quarters"
- Horton Foote
"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in ourselves."
- William Shakespeare.
These are just a FEW of my favorite qoutes. There are much, much more.
3/18/13
On the misuse of the term, "Love"
"Ah, spring! That wonderful time of year when a young man's fancy turns to love!"
- Calvin and Hobbes.
We all have the friend who is constantly saying "love" all the time, usually out of context. But wait a second- what's the right context? Are there varying degrees of love? Whats the difference if so?
Well, I'm gonna tell ya.
The first kind of love, is the least acknowledged:
Brotherly love:
If I told you that I love my buddy, Noah, what would you think? That I'm weird, possibly gay? Well, guess what, I'm and definitely neither or those (weird is debatable, but we'll save that for another time). The fact is, I do in fact love my best friend, Noah Mead. But it's a brotherly love- one that we share mutually.
It is the sort of love that causes one to put the other before themselves, and to sacrifice for the other. This is something that is common for all love, but in a brotherly sort of love, it is especially powerful. I share this mutual love with all of my guy friends. Brotherly love is what happens when you truly develop a powerful bond with someone.
Chivalrous love:
You've all hopefully heard of chivalry, but If you haven't I'll give a recap:
Chivalry is defined as "The sum of ideal qualification ... including courtesy, generosity, and valor" Chivalry is often thought of as caring for a respecting women. This is what chivalrous love is.
Chivalrous is were one looks at those women around him, assesses their personal needs and tries to take care of them accordingly.
An example of this from my own life:
You all know Rine, right? Well, she's sort of an emotionally frail person. I've found that she comes to me a great deal with problems. Instead of just saying "Uhhhh, I don't know" in a dumb voice, I try my best to help out and answer her questions to the best of my ability.
If your asked "do you love that girl," then, you should say yes, but then clarify that it is chivalrous love, in which you want to protect and provide for that person.
Familial love:
All of the above loves can be condensed down into this love. You should have brotherly love for you brothers, and chivalrous love for your sisters. But, Familial love in important, because it is what binds all these loves together and creates a family. The source of Familial love should come from the parents, who's love for each other should the familial love.
Romantic love:
Consider this qoutation: "Yeah, she loves you. Like I love [name deleted for privacy]. And he loves me! Lalalalalal!"
This is not a correct use of term. When this person said this, they were still in the "liking" stage. It wasn't even legit relationship yet. Romantic love is something that all people feel when they reach a certain age. But, we need to be careful how we express this, or else it will be end up hurting both ourselves, and our love interest.
On must care for the other's emotions. This is especially important in the male's role in the relationship. as men were meant to protect and provide women. Never the less though, each member of the relationship should be careful with another's emotions.
Romantic love is tricky business, and I would personally advise all the thirteen to fourteen year-olds that are reading this to refrain from it for the time being.
Love is great. God created us to love, and he loves us. But, we must be careful in the proper use of the term. Love is sacred, and we should treat the abstract idea and the word as such.
- Calvin and Hobbes.
We all have the friend who is constantly saying "love" all the time, usually out of context. But wait a second- what's the right context? Are there varying degrees of love? Whats the difference if so?
Well, I'm gonna tell ya.
The first kind of love, is the least acknowledged:
Brotherly love:
If I told you that I love my buddy, Noah, what would you think? That I'm weird, possibly gay? Well, guess what, I'm and definitely neither or those (weird is debatable, but we'll save that for another time). The fact is, I do in fact love my best friend, Noah Mead. But it's a brotherly love- one that we share mutually.
It is the sort of love that causes one to put the other before themselves, and to sacrifice for the other. This is something that is common for all love, but in a brotherly sort of love, it is especially powerful. I share this mutual love with all of my guy friends. Brotherly love is what happens when you truly develop a powerful bond with someone.
Chivalrous love:
You've all hopefully heard of chivalry, but If you haven't I'll give a recap:
Chivalry is defined as "The sum of ideal qualification ... including courtesy, generosity, and valor" Chivalry is often thought of as caring for a respecting women. This is what chivalrous love is.
Chivalrous is were one looks at those women around him, assesses their personal needs and tries to take care of them accordingly.
An example of this from my own life:
You all know Rine, right? Well, she's sort of an emotionally frail person. I've found that she comes to me a great deal with problems. Instead of just saying "Uhhhh, I don't know" in a dumb voice, I try my best to help out and answer her questions to the best of my ability.
If your asked "do you love that girl," then, you should say yes, but then clarify that it is chivalrous love, in which you want to protect and provide for that person.
Familial love:
All of the above loves can be condensed down into this love. You should have brotherly love for you brothers, and chivalrous love for your sisters. But, Familial love in important, because it is what binds all these loves together and creates a family. The source of Familial love should come from the parents, who's love for each other should the familial love.
Romantic love:
Consider this qoutation: "Yeah, she loves you. Like I love [name deleted for privacy]. And he loves me! Lalalalalal!"
This is not a correct use of term. When this person said this, they were still in the "liking" stage. It wasn't even legit relationship yet. Romantic love is something that all people feel when they reach a certain age. But, we need to be careful how we express this, or else it will be end up hurting both ourselves, and our love interest.
On must care for the other's emotions. This is especially important in the male's role in the relationship. as men were meant to protect and provide women. Never the less though, each member of the relationship should be careful with another's emotions.
Romantic love is tricky business, and I would personally advise all the thirteen to fourteen year-olds that are reading this to refrain from it for the time being.
Love is great. God created us to love, and he loves us. But, we must be careful in the proper use of the term. Love is sacred, and we should treat the abstract idea and the word as such.
3/15/13
Schtuffs happenin': THE SEQUEL TO THE SEQUEL!
Is there a word for the sequel to the sequel? I wonder. I'm going to go look it up.......
THERE ISN'T. In the words of Peregrine Took: "I'm getting one."
I have just invented a new word: Teritiqeul. It means the sequel after the sequel. Let's all use this word as much as possible, and maybe someday it will be in the dictionary.
I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE TERITIQUEL OF THE HOBBIT TO COME OUT!
See? You could use it in just about any sentence.
On a totally unrelated note, I think that it should be publicly proclaimed, to all the citizens of the world, that I DO NOT HAVE A GIRLFRIEND. If I speak of a girlfriend, I am referring to my airsoft AK, Macy, who I have dubbed my "girlfriend." If any things happens concerning my relationships with the opposite sex, I will let you know.
My face is not your face, so quit trying to gain legal access to my face, and go get your own. Otherwise I'll eat you face, and then you won't even have a face at all, and you definitely wouldn't have my face. So, just to recap, STAY AWAY FROM MY FACE. Especially with you little dirty hands and stuff.. ew. STOP STROKING MY FACE. STOP KISSING MY FACE. STOP EATING MY FACE. Just don't touch my face at all, okay? Seriously, constant face fondling it just rude. Abstain from your vile ways, ungoliant.
Ignore everything I just said (except the stuff about not touching my face).
GUY ON A BUFFALO-O-O!
That's right. A guy riding a buffalo. He has no name, unless his name is "Guy", but that would be a major coincidence.
Seriously, think about it. Just for a moment. Please?
THERE ISN'T. In the words of Peregrine Took: "I'm getting one."
I have just invented a new word: Teritiqeul. It means the sequel after the sequel. Let's all use this word as much as possible, and maybe someday it will be in the dictionary.
I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE TERITIQUEL OF THE HOBBIT TO COME OUT!
See? You could use it in just about any sentence.
On a totally unrelated note, I think that it should be publicly proclaimed, to all the citizens of the world, that I DO NOT HAVE A GIRLFRIEND. If I speak of a girlfriend, I am referring to my airsoft AK, Macy, who I have dubbed my "girlfriend." If any things happens concerning my relationships with the opposite sex, I will let you know.
My face is not your face, so quit trying to gain legal access to my face, and go get your own. Otherwise I'll eat you face, and then you won't even have a face at all, and you definitely wouldn't have my face. So, just to recap, STAY AWAY FROM MY FACE. Especially with you little dirty hands and stuff.. ew. STOP STROKING MY FACE. STOP KISSING MY FACE. STOP EATING MY FACE. Just don't touch my face at all, okay? Seriously, constant face fondling it just rude. Abstain from your vile ways, ungoliant.
Ignore everything I just said (except the stuff about not touching my face).
GUY ON A BUFFALO-O-O!
That's right. A guy riding a buffalo. He has no name, unless his name is "Guy", but that would be a major coincidence.
Seriously, think about it. Just for a moment. Please?
3/14/13
FACE-EATERS!
This is my entry to the same writing contest. Before you read this, look up the song "Rectifier" from the TRON: Legacy Filmscore and listen to it while you read it.
“A cold breeze is cutting across me from the west, blowing my windbreaker about. The dark woods around me cut out menacing silhouettes against the glorious full moon. No creatures scuttle in the undergrowth. There is no sound but my frantic breathing and movement. And that ragged panting. The shuffling of limbs. The groping hands.
“I feel for the small 9mm. handgun in my shoulder holster- my only protection. I pull it out and hit the switch that disengages the safety. The sound resounds in the dead night. I stop and turn, facing the direction that I believe my hunter is in.
“I strain my eyes, searching between dark trees for something- anything! All noise as stopped. My heart is beating a frightened rhythm, deep in my chest. Drums- drums in the deep.
“And then- I just barely see it. It is tall and pale, unnaturally tall and deathly pale. I just caught it in it’s swift movements. This is a beast. An unearthly beast. It stood on two legs, and looked so much like I homosapien that I almost called out to it. But I don’t. I can’t, because fear is filling my throat. I try to swallow it, but it just fills even more.
“My palms are sweating, making my grip on the handgun slick. I switch hands and wiped my hand on my jeans. I turn, looking for the creature. I turn in a slow circle, holding the gun out in front of me.”
Snap
“I whirl around. The beast is behind me. It’s just standing, with Death’s grin on it’s face. It’s ugly, indescribably ugly. I nearly throw up. It has no face. Only a wide, smiling mouth with two long, saber-like fangs jutting out of that smile. It has massive pointed ears, with cuts in them. It has huge, overdeveloped muscles. It’s shoulders and thighs bulge with tightly packed muscles. It has large abs and a six pack that would scare away WWE fighters.
“I brought up my 9 mm. and fired two rounds into the creature. It was great shot- one slug in the head, on in the shoulder. The creature didn’t even flinch.
“‘[expletive deleted]’
“I fire the rest of my magazine into the creature. No response. Not even a flinch. A long, gruesome tongue comes out of it’s mouth. The tongue was yellow, and resembled a massive slug, oozing out of it’s mouth. I dropped the gun and ran like the devil was on my heels- which he was.
“I tore through the undergrowth, and guttural sound erupting from my throat. Briars cut my face and tear my clothes. I tripped on a root. I feel the beast grab me, pulling my face up to it’s... faceless.
“‘[expletive deleted]’”
Thus is the what was relayed into the throat mic of CIA Agent Carter Olson, codename Mask. When this message was recorded, Agent Olson was on a top secret mission, investigating mysterious reports of a strange homosapien in the greater Grand Rapids area in western Michigan. Agent Olson was pronounced Missing in Action (MIA) in January of 2012. It is CIA policy to not pronounce an agent dead until thirteen months after the disappearance of the agent, or the agent’s body is recovered. After thirteen months of searching for Agent Olson’s body, he has not been recovered, and is officially pronounced dead by the US government.
However, Agent Olson’s throat mic, and 9mm. handgun were both recovered, only a hundred yards from each other.
It is presumed that Olson’s body was completely consumed by this “faceless” creature. The question still stands, however, where is this creature? What is it? Why does it prey upon human flesh?
Recently in the area of greater Grand Rapids, Michigan, several persons have gone missing. One instance was a couple walking the trail at Pickerel Lake.
The man and woman (names withheld for privacy) were just recently found (March 10, 2013) drowned in the lake, and frozen to death. Their faces had been mauled and we had to use DNA samples in order to identify them. No other part of their body was touched.
Traces of a strange venom-like substance was found around the cavities that had once been the couples’ faces. It had DNA changing hormones in it that changed the brain of victim.
When this venom was tested on a lab mouse, the mouse’s face completely disappeared. It’s nose fell off and it’s eyes withered and dropped from it’s skull. It’s eye sockets sealed and two of it’s teeth elongated into large fangs. It attacked it’s fellow lab mouse and ate it’s face. The second mouse went through a similar transformation as the first. Both mice were killed.
The alleged “Face-Eater” is now a top priority for the CIA. All available personnel in the area have made this the capture or death of this creature top priority, as it is a danger to not only US civilians, but also members of the CIA.
All reports of the creature are to be reported to the police or directly to the CIA on a secure hotline. This is a DEFCON 4 priority.
The Face-Eater is believed to be intelligent and capable of opening a door.
Civilians are advised to stay indoors.
We are being hunted.
“I’m being hunted.
“I can feel it.
“I’m being hunted.
“The hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end. Ceaseless shivers run down my spine. I hear noise behind me. Twigs snapping, hands groping. A foul stench rides on the air, filling my suffering nostrils. I could hear a ragged panting behind me, and a shuffling of limbs. “A cold breeze is cutting across me from the west, blowing my windbreaker about. The dark woods around me cut out menacing silhouettes against the glorious full moon. No creatures scuttle in the undergrowth. There is no sound but my frantic breathing and movement. And that ragged panting. The shuffling of limbs. The groping hands.
“I feel for the small 9mm. handgun in my shoulder holster- my only protection. I pull it out and hit the switch that disengages the safety. The sound resounds in the dead night. I stop and turn, facing the direction that I believe my hunter is in.
“I strain my eyes, searching between dark trees for something- anything! All noise as stopped. My heart is beating a frightened rhythm, deep in my chest. Drums- drums in the deep.
“And then- I just barely see it. It is tall and pale, unnaturally tall and deathly pale. I just caught it in it’s swift movements. This is a beast. An unearthly beast. It stood on two legs, and looked so much like I homosapien that I almost called out to it. But I don’t. I can’t, because fear is filling my throat. I try to swallow it, but it just fills even more.
“My palms are sweating, making my grip on the handgun slick. I switch hands and wiped my hand on my jeans. I turn, looking for the creature. I turn in a slow circle, holding the gun out in front of me.”
Snap
“I whirl around. The beast is behind me. It’s just standing, with Death’s grin on it’s face. It’s ugly, indescribably ugly. I nearly throw up. It has no face. Only a wide, smiling mouth with two long, saber-like fangs jutting out of that smile. It has massive pointed ears, with cuts in them. It has huge, overdeveloped muscles. It’s shoulders and thighs bulge with tightly packed muscles. It has large abs and a six pack that would scare away WWE fighters.
“I brought up my 9 mm. and fired two rounds into the creature. It was great shot- one slug in the head, on in the shoulder. The creature didn’t even flinch.
“‘[expletive deleted]’
“I fire the rest of my magazine into the creature. No response. Not even a flinch. A long, gruesome tongue comes out of it’s mouth. The tongue was yellow, and resembled a massive slug, oozing out of it’s mouth. I dropped the gun and ran like the devil was on my heels- which he was.
“I tore through the undergrowth, and guttural sound erupting from my throat. Briars cut my face and tear my clothes. I tripped on a root. I feel the beast grab me, pulling my face up to it’s... faceless.
“‘[expletive deleted]’”
Thus is the what was relayed into the throat mic of CIA Agent Carter Olson, codename Mask. When this message was recorded, Agent Olson was on a top secret mission, investigating mysterious reports of a strange homosapien in the greater Grand Rapids area in western Michigan. Agent Olson was pronounced Missing in Action (MIA) in January of 2012. It is CIA policy to not pronounce an agent dead until thirteen months after the disappearance of the agent, or the agent’s body is recovered. After thirteen months of searching for Agent Olson’s body, he has not been recovered, and is officially pronounced dead by the US government.
However, Agent Olson’s throat mic, and 9mm. handgun were both recovered, only a hundred yards from each other.
It is presumed that Olson’s body was completely consumed by this “faceless” creature. The question still stands, however, where is this creature? What is it? Why does it prey upon human flesh?
Recently in the area of greater Grand Rapids, Michigan, several persons have gone missing. One instance was a couple walking the trail at Pickerel Lake.
The man and woman (names withheld for privacy) were just recently found (March 10, 2013) drowned in the lake, and frozen to death. Their faces had been mauled and we had to use DNA samples in order to identify them. No other part of their body was touched.
Traces of a strange venom-like substance was found around the cavities that had once been the couples’ faces. It had DNA changing hormones in it that changed the brain of victim.
When this venom was tested on a lab mouse, the mouse’s face completely disappeared. It’s nose fell off and it’s eyes withered and dropped from it’s skull. It’s eye sockets sealed and two of it’s teeth elongated into large fangs. It attacked it’s fellow lab mouse and ate it’s face. The second mouse went through a similar transformation as the first. Both mice were killed.
The alleged “Face-Eater” is now a top priority for the CIA. All available personnel in the area have made this the capture or death of this creature top priority, as it is a danger to not only US civilians, but also members of the CIA.
All reports of the creature are to be reported to the police or directly to the CIA on a secure hotline. This is a DEFCON 4 priority.
The Face-Eater is believed to be intelligent and capable of opening a door.
Civilians are advised to stay indoors.
We are being hunted.
3/13/13
AWAKENED
A cryptic piece that I am submitting to a writing contest. See if you can get it!
Oh, and I've gone ahead and changed my name to Rine. Yes, hello, it's Squirrel XD
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop turning around to look at the little book.
Finally, curiosity got the best of me. With a trembling hand outstretched toward the mysterious book, I began to ease toward the counter once again. The dishes in my other hand were suddenly released, and shattered on the floor with an ear-piercing crash.
Struggling for control over my trembling arm, I wrapped my weak, sun-deprived fingers around the thin elastic. It felt as thick as thread, as frail as a spider web. Instead of pulling it off of the hook as I intended, it snapped off. I jumped, pulling my arm back. The pages softly fanned open and stopped moving with a quiet “shoof.”
The book fell open to page thirty-three.
I stared in awe at the creature drawn on the page. It looked like an odd cross between a lizard and a dog; something you would envision while reading a fantasy novel. Its head was that of a dog’s, but it was covered in scales. The page was written and drawn entirely in black ink, but I imagined the creature to have sickly yellow scales, eerie red eyes, and a ghastly white mane.
The writing. I suddenly realized that the writing looked very familiar. My husband’s writing. I gently ran my finger along the notes. I felt my eyes burn with the threat of tears. I shrugged it off as best I could and began to read the writing.
“Tuesday the Fifth
Just yesterday, we discovered the creature that has been wreaking havoc across Michigan. We are unsure of what it is, but it seems to be a new species. It seems very unconcerned with us and seems to think it is one of us. If it weren’t an amalgamation, it would actually be kind of cute.
“Friday the Eigth
I was bitten by the creature! The wound is repulsive. It’s swollen, red, and a bit yellow in places. We only just managed to stop the bleeding. It’s really quite disgusting, but it will probably be better within the week. The rest of the lab is running some tests to see whether or not the creature is venomous. I am skeptical; I feel just fine.
“Sunday the Tenth
I was incredibly distressed this morning when I woke up, went to wash my face, and found that I have scales on my face. While this is a very interesting revelation, it is also a great tragedy- what will the laboratory tell my wife and son if we cannot cure this ailment?
“Thursday the Fourteenth
I am turning into the creature itself! The others cannot find any way to slow down or reverse the process, and have decided that it would be best to contact my family notifying them that I have perished. I requested only that they told Akiel and Vierra the truth, though my request was denied. It is becoming increasingly difficult to write; I will soon be unable to write any more.” From the Fifteenth onward, the writing was a boggling mass of scratches, scribbles, and a grimy pawprint. The rest of the pages were blank. I frantically flipped through the book, praying for any sign indicating that my husband had survived. I dropped the book to the counter and thrust my head into my hands. Salty tears poured from my eyes. I peeked through my shield once more, and saw one final message for me on the last page of the book.
“Mom! Wake up, Mom!”
Akiel’s frantic voice rang true and clear through my ears. He shook my shoulders violently, jolting me out of my grief. I looked at him and threw my arms around him. He stiffened, unsure how to take the gesture.
“Mom, are you okay? What happened?”
“Akiel, tell me. How long has Savin been... dead?”
“About two years, Mom,” Akiel whispered sadly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I didn’t answer my son. I hugged him tightly and mourned my husband’s death.
Oh, and I've gone ahead and changed my name to Rine. Yes, hello, it's Squirrel XD
AWAKENED
The birds had hardly begun to sing and I was minding my own business, putting the dishes away in the cupboards where they belonged. Plates on top of other plates, and silverware neatly arranged in the individual spots for forks, knives, spoons, and other utensils.
I smiled. Everything was where it should be, not a spoon out of line. I then turned around to gaze upon my equally neat house and stopped with a shudder. There, at the table, with his plate placed lopsidedly across the placemat, was my son, dumping cereal into a bowl that was just as out of place as his plate. He slouched as he sauntered to the fridge to find the milk, and, seeing me eyeballing him with a cautionary glare, waved.
“G’morning, Mom,” he grunted, scratching his arm. The fridge door was wide open, and I felt the warmth being sucked out of the kitchen. He pulled the milk out of its niche, knocking the ketchup over as he did so.
“Good morning, Akiel. Oh, your hair is such a mess! And your shirt- Ugh! Don’t you have anything CLEAN to wear?” I stalked around him in a circle before honing in on his rumpled and messy hair. I poked my finger into the curly mess for almost a second before reeling back and yanking my appendage away from his head.
His hair, a dark brown, was so much like his father’s: curly, nearly unmanageable, and extremely thick. Under the current circumstances, however, Akiel’s hair was anything but attractive. It was oily, knotted, and just gross in general. As his mother, I took it upon myself to look disgusted. I looked over at the clock. He still had half an hour until the bus would come.
“Akiel, as soon as you are done with that cereal, you are going straight up to the bathroom and taking a shower. You had BETTER use the shampoo I got you.”
My son groaned and drove his spoon into his cereal. “But mom, showering doesn’t do anything! It’s useless, my hair is just going to be a rats’ nest forever.” He blinked at me in the same apathetic fashion his father used to when he wanted to make a point.
“I don’t care,” I sighed, shrugging off the memories of my husband. “Eat, then get in the shower.”
I turned around and looked back at the dishes, all still neatly in their place. I realized that I had left the cupboard open. I turned to see Akiel busy eating, seeming to have not noticed, and hastily shut the doors.
I stood, looking out the window in silence. I could see very little in the darkness, but my mind filled in the blanks with the chaos, havoc and disorder that I knew was out there.
As Akiel slowly finished his cereal and went upstairs for his shower, I noticed a book on the kitchen counter to my left that simply hadn’t been there before. I looked around. Other than the mysterious appearance of the book, nothing had changed. The countertop was spotless, pure, clean. Unchanged.
I took a few steps toward the book. It had a brown, leather cover with various different stains, burns and gashes on it. The pages were puffy and spread out, and the only thing in the way of the book simply fanning open was a thin, stained elastic cord. The book looked like it wanted to tell the whole world what it had inside it.
The book’s gravity was so intense. I had never before felt such magnetizing intrigue. I gently ran my fingers along the spine, turning the book ever so slightly on its side. The smooth feel of it made me shudder, as though opening it would bring about the end of time. Everything in my body was shrieking, “Don’t do it! Don’t open that book!”
Suddenly, I realized what I was doing, and I pulled my hand back. I was right; it was a bad idea to mess with things that just suddenly appear out of nowhere. I turned around and tried to busy myself with taking care of Akiel’s dirty dishes that he hadn’t bothered to put away.No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop turning around to look at the little book.
Finally, curiosity got the best of me. With a trembling hand outstretched toward the mysterious book, I began to ease toward the counter once again. The dishes in my other hand were suddenly released, and shattered on the floor with an ear-piercing crash.
Struggling for control over my trembling arm, I wrapped my weak, sun-deprived fingers around the thin elastic. It felt as thick as thread, as frail as a spider web. Instead of pulling it off of the hook as I intended, it snapped off. I jumped, pulling my arm back. The pages softly fanned open and stopped moving with a quiet “shoof.”
The book fell open to page thirty-three.
I stared in awe at the creature drawn on the page. It looked like an odd cross between a lizard and a dog; something you would envision while reading a fantasy novel. Its head was that of a dog’s, but it was covered in scales. The page was written and drawn entirely in black ink, but I imagined the creature to have sickly yellow scales, eerie red eyes, and a ghastly white mane.
The writing. I suddenly realized that the writing looked very familiar. My husband’s writing. I gently ran my finger along the notes. I felt my eyes burn with the threat of tears. I shrugged it off as best I could and began to read the writing.
“Tuesday the Fifth
Just yesterday, we discovered the creature that has been wreaking havoc across Michigan. We are unsure of what it is, but it seems to be a new species. It seems very unconcerned with us and seems to think it is one of us. If it weren’t an amalgamation, it would actually be kind of cute.
“Friday the Eigth
I was bitten by the creature! The wound is repulsive. It’s swollen, red, and a bit yellow in places. We only just managed to stop the bleeding. It’s really quite disgusting, but it will probably be better within the week. The rest of the lab is running some tests to see whether or not the creature is venomous. I am skeptical; I feel just fine.
“Sunday the Tenth
I was incredibly distressed this morning when I woke up, went to wash my face, and found that I have scales on my face. While this is a very interesting revelation, it is also a great tragedy- what will the laboratory tell my wife and son if we cannot cure this ailment?
“Thursday the Fourteenth
I am turning into the creature itself! The others cannot find any way to slow down or reverse the process, and have decided that it would be best to contact my family notifying them that I have perished. I requested only that they told Akiel and Vierra the truth, though my request was denied. It is becoming increasingly difficult to write; I will soon be unable to write any more.” From the Fifteenth onward, the writing was a boggling mass of scratches, scribbles, and a grimy pawprint. The rest of the pages were blank. I frantically flipped through the book, praying for any sign indicating that my husband had survived. I dropped the book to the counter and thrust my head into my hands. Salty tears poured from my eyes. I peeked through my shield once more, and saw one final message for me on the last page of the book.
“Savin Montreach, 1971-2011”
As my eyes passed over the final number, I could take no more. I fell to the ground, clutching my throbbing head. Akiel’s frantic voice rang true and clear through my ears. He shook my shoulders violently, jolting me out of my grief. I looked at him and threw my arms around him. He stiffened, unsure how to take the gesture.
“Mom, are you okay? What happened?”
“Akiel, tell me. How long has Savin been... dead?”
“About two years, Mom,” Akiel whispered sadly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I didn’t answer my son. I hugged him tightly and mourned my husband’s death.
When I finally composed myself and looked around the room, I saw nothing but a mess. Garbage, dishes, and dust were everywhere. This was not right!
“How long has the house been like this, Akiel?”
“Ever since Dad died.”
The rest of the day went as well as it can, when one finally grieves. I stepped outside for the first time in two years. The sun’s rays frolicked on my skin, and the breeze toyed with my hair. Under the kitchen window was a little flower garden, weedy and dead from neglect. For just a moment, I thought I saw a pawprint in the clumped dirt, but I couldn’t be sure.
3/12/13
3/11/13
The Invincible Iron Man
That's me, the amazing and invincible Iron Man. I have emotions of steel and physical endurance beyond all else.
That's a lie.
I'm not Invincible.
I get hurt. The physical pain I can just shake off, but the emotional pain... it lingers. It may seem odd, because I'm the super rational, super durable ENTJ, who will someday rule a small country, such as Switzerland. But all that, all the rational, super extrovert-ness, is sometimes just a mask.
An Iron mask. One that I put on when I'm hurt. When I get hurt emotionally, I don't show it, unless it's serious. And, by serious, I mean the emotional equivalent of having my eyes gouged out. This kind of emotional pain has only happened twice recently. One time.... is none of you business.
"That kid wasn't even lookin'"
That was the other recent time. When I heard those words, it felt like a hot iron stuck straight into my eyeballs.
Heres some background. I'm at youth group, (known as Nitelife) and we're playing Guerrilla Soccer. Now, I won't go into details, but let's just say that Guerrilla Soccer is the opposite of soccer. Anyhow, I was playing it, and I'm not exactly the best person at sports. As a young child, I never really got into sports, so now that I'm in Junior High, I don't really have the skills to be good at sports. Now, this doesn't mean I don't like to play games. I actually really enjoy tossing a football around, and wish that I had gotten into it earlier in my life. So, we're playing Guerrilla Soccer, and I got stuck as goaly for and LONG time. Reader, I suck at goaly. And then the heat got turned up. A bunch of kids from public school, who I had never seen before in my life decided to join the game. I let a goal in.
"That kid wasn't even lookin'"
I was already stressed out and uncomfortable at this point, but when I heard those five words, those eight syllables, I think that part of me died for a while.
I'm not Invincible.
For the rest of the night, those words were stuck in my mind. They stood at the fore front and just kept on degrading me.
For the rest of the night, those words were stuck in my mind. They stood at the fore front and just kept on degrading me.
Those words still hurt, like an infected laceration. Those word cut like a sword across my self image.
If you're around me much, you know that I have a bubbly personality. When I'm in my element, I don't have a care in the world. I can turn an awkward topic into a hilarious one.
And then the pain comes, and I put on a mask. Why?
Becuase I'm not Invincible. My mask looks like this:
It's an Iron Mask. I put this mask on when I'm hurt. It's not really a conscience decision, but it happens. And then, when I'm alone, the mask comes off and I break down. It's not a physical, bawling-my-eyes-out kind of breakdown. It's more of an emotional, I-really-need-to-think-this-over-in-a-dark-corner sort of breakdown.
I'M NOT INVINCIBLE!
Not matter what, I am weak human being who needs to rely on Jesus for everything.
I'M NOT INVINCIBLE!
Not matter what, I am weak human being who needs to rely on Jesus for everything.
3/6/13
Welcoming two new authors!
(I think. :P)
As soon as they accept and choose their pseudonyms, we will be welcoming two new authors to the site!
Kudos to them, here's hoping that they'll have more uplifting things to talk about than I do!
As soon as they accept and choose their pseudonyms, we will be welcoming two new authors to the site!
Kudos to them, here's hoping that they'll have more uplifting things to talk about than I do!
Report Titles
Every week for school, I write reports for variouse subjects. I like to find humorouse names for these reports. Here's some of the best.
For the subject of Art (the name of this curriculum is The Annotated Mona Lisa):
And now, for the wonderful world of (inhale) Aaaaaaaa (exhale)aaaaaaaaaaaart!
Artvark and the Annotater-tot.
The Annotated Mona Lesley
The Annotated Mone Lisa, Lesley, Lindsy, Lucy, and just plain old Lou.
Beware the nudes
fART.
Wait, so does English Romantiscm mean a bunch of people making kissy faces at each other and drinking tea?
For the subject of Geography:
But Mrs. Geography lady, Mt. Nool is that way!
Geogra- LEASH THAT MULE!
Today we learned about Mrs. Geography Lady's friend who climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Mrs. Geography lady? What do Hindus have to do with Geography.
In unrelated news, I have a girlfriend! Her name is Macy, she shoots 700 rounds per minute, and she's EVERYTHING I DESERVE IN LIFE!
Thats right folks, she's an AK-47 AEG airsoft gun. 365 FPS , full metal body and a sleek brass eject. The only thing plastic about my baby is her stock. Isn't she pretty? Oh, I love her so much! We've known each other for a while before we started dating- about four hours while her battery charged. Our first date was adjusting the Hop-Up. She's awesome. You are all very jealous.
For the subject of Art (the name of this curriculum is The Annotated Mona Lisa):
And now, for the wonderful world of (inhale) Aaaaaaaa (exhale)aaaaaaaaaaaart!
Artvark and the Annotater-tot.
The Annotated Mona Lesley
The Annotated Mone Lisa, Lesley, Lindsy, Lucy, and just plain old Lou.
Beware the nudes
fART.
Wait, so does English Romantiscm mean a bunch of people making kissy faces at each other and drinking tea?
For the subject of Geography:
But Mrs. Geography lady, Mt. Nool is that way!
Geogra- LEASH THAT MULE!
Today we learned about Mrs. Geography Lady's friend who climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Mrs. Geography lady? What do Hindus have to do with Geography.
In unrelated news, I have a girlfriend! Her name is Macy, she shoots 700 rounds per minute, and she's EVERYTHING I DESERVE IN LIFE!
Thats right folks, she's an AK-47 AEG airsoft gun. 365 FPS , full metal body and a sleek brass eject. The only thing plastic about my baby is her stock. Isn't she pretty? Oh, I love her so much! We've known each other for a while before we started dating- about four hours while her battery charged. Our first date was adjusting the Hop-Up. She's awesome. You are all very jealous.
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