Monday, December 31, 2012

12-31-12: year old


I finished my first proper tablet drawing, so here it is.


It's John and Vriska from Homestuck. Whoo.

So today is the last day of the year. I don't know what to think about this. I'm looking forward to better things in 2013, I guess, but what if worse things happen instead?

I haven't posted anything about how Christmas was. I guess I'll do that.

I woke up and everyone opened presents. That was fun and all, yes, presents, woot. I got the aforementioned graphics tablet that I wanted, as well as a Ravenclaw scarf and a few other things. My great aunt surprised me with an American Girl Doll - Julie, to be specific. She said that her fondest Christmas memory involves me getting an American Girl. I didn't want it at first, and was quite bewildered by the gift, but I think I'll treasure it. Maybe I'll rename it.

After that, I spent a few hours doodling on my graphics tablet, and then we gathered up some family members and visited this restaurant with a huge buffet of Chinese food. It was incredibly delicious, and fun times were had. The dessert was amazing. 

So that was Christmas. I hope you had a nice Christmas.

Tomorrow is January 1st. I'm ready for it to come. Not ready for school to restart, either. :3

Now I leave you with a quote from Paper Towns, which is a book I recently read: "What a treacherous thing to believe, that a person is more than a person."

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Half, pt. 5


  When Silas graduated, he left his home. He said goodbye to his parents and to his friends and to the city that he had always known. He was going to begin a new life for himself, now that school and unkind people and the prospect of stuffing his head with seemingly pointless knowledge no longer kept him tied down. It hurt to leave his loved ones. But he knew that leaving isn't right unless you leave behind something that really means something to you. 
   He moved to a different city, bought an apartment, and took a job in the paper asking for laboratory experience. He had always enjoyed science. Maybe he could make something out of it.
   Two days before her new job, Eve went out and got a haircut as her mother's words rang in her ears. Her heavy copper locks fell to the floor, exposing her long neck and elegant shoulders. Her hair was cut into a sleek bob that curled naturally and framed her face. When it was done, she looked in the mirror and gasped in delight. She was shedding the past image of herself. She was becoming a newer, better Eve.
   One day before her new job, Eve permanently stopped wearing the long fingerless gloves that covered her wrists. She bought herself new clothes, clothes that she liked and that didn't hide her anymore. All her life, she had tried to cover herself in every way possible, had tried her hardest to never be seen. She was done with the shame. She was ready to be herself.
    On the day of her new job, she put on her newest floral blouse, the airy sleeveless one, and quickly scanned herself in the mirror. She was different, and her different self fit her, she thought. 
    In the kitchen, she hugged her mom tightly and moved her mouth close to her ear. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."
    Her mother pulled away slightly and smiled at Eve, twirling a finger through her daughter's shorter hair. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. She was older than she had been, but her eyes remained kind and wise and full of light. "I'm so proud of you, darling," she said, squeezing her shoulders. "Now go out there and make a life for yourself."
    So Eve did. She left her childhood home with an air of finality. Even though she knew she was coming back, there was something about her departure that felt brighter.

Friday, December 28, 2012

12-27-12: tainted snow and miserable frenchmen


   Today is December 27. Christmas was nice. Yesterday we saw Les Mis, and it was wonderful, exactly what I expected it to be. Amanda Seyfried was a great Cosette, even though Ash and I doubted her abilities. I loved Eddie Redmayne as Marius! Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway were both amazing. It was all just so great, really, and I can't wait to see it again.  When we entered the theater, it was a typically cold, cloudy winter afternoon; but when we emerged, the sky was yellow as snow heavily fell. Jack Frost had paid us a visit, spreading a wintry coating across the silent earth and the willing citizens. In the theater parking lot, the snow was undisturbed, as yet untainted by the disgusting excretions of cars and engines and machines. It was beautiful and pure. It made me think of how nice things are until we ruin them. Sure enough, when I woke up the next morning, today, people had shoveled all the snow away into brown, slushy trenches at the sides of roads, clearing the way so that humanity could continue. Humanity doesn't like to be interrupted by things as bold and unwanted as a bit of snow.
   We - my dad and I - drove along on the highway as weird obscure music crackled from the radio. People flew along the road like it wasn't even snowing outside. Canadians are cool like that. We turned into the parking lot of a bookstore, and there were no cars on the pavement, just perfect snow. Everything was so gorgeous, and now I look back and realize that it was one of those moments. You know, the ones I talked about where something happens that's so special that you don't realize how much it will always mean to you until you look back on it?
    There's a ton of snow outside today. It's what the people back at home would go into bunker mode over.
     Now I leave you with a quote from Les Misérables: "To love another person is to see the face of God."


Monday, December 24, 2012

12-23-12 : christmas adam


   Tomorrow, I am leaving with my family to visit my aunt in Canada. There is no internet access where I am going, because my aunt is eighty-seven. I will not be able to watch the Doctor Who Christmas Special, because she does not have cable. All I ask is that I get to see Les Mis on Christmas.
   We go to my aunt's every Christmas. I can't imagine what it must be like to spend Christmas at home with friends instead of far away with family. What's it even like to get on the internet on Christmas Day? 0.0
    I feel kind of sad about Christmas this year, and I don't really know why. I watch the time pass with a sort of longing, sad to see it all slip by me. Like I'm trying to hang on to 2012 for no detectable reason. It wasn't even that great a year. It was just 2012.
    My brother's leaving next year. 
    I guess I'll have to . . . deal with that.
    We didn't decorate the tree this year. We put it up - the fake tree, I mean, the one that we've always had - and somehow in the last few days the compulsion to decorate it has left us. It is bare. The colorful lights that usually line the banisters of the stairs are absent this year, as are the snowmen figurines and outdoor lights. Why didn't we decorate this year? Why does everything feel so odd right now? I can't even believe that Christmas is the day after tomorrow. It crept right up. I've barely been anticipating it, and here it is.
    It doesn't feel like Christmas.
    Am I just getting older?

I can't wait to see my aunt, but there are a few family members who we're not seeing this year. We can't see everyone, which is a shame because everyone is in Canada. Sometimes I just want to live there.

Now I leave you with a quote: "If you don't imagine, nothing ever happens at all." - John Green, Paper Towns.

Merry Christmas, everyone.
    

Friday, December 21, 2012

It's the end of the world as we know it


And I feel fine.

OKAY SO THE LES MIS SOUNDTRACK WAS RELEASED TODAY AND OH MY GOSH IT IS BEAUTIFUL JUST I DREAMED A DREAM OH MY FEEEEEELINGS

I have been spending the last day of Earth reading Homestuck. It's frustrating. This one character keeps killing off all of my other favorite characters. I do not like how these things keep happening.

I keep telling myself I'm going to get up and do things, but then I just don't. I want to start on that 900-page edition of Les Misérables, and I want to draw all of these ideas that have been spawning in my mind all day, but I don't. It's Christmas vacation. 

Remember Looking for Alaska? All that deep stuff about trying to escape the labyrinth of suffering? I want to know how to escape the labyrinth of laziness.

Today I went in my room and sat down on my bed and did stuff on my computer, and then I looked up and noticed that on my dresser was a new piggy bank. It's a very cute ceramic pig with wings. I saw it yesterday at Pier 1 Imports and freaked out over it, but didn't buy it. My mom bought it secretly and snuck into my room to place it on the dresser. She is wonderful.



I'm going to leave now and possibly draw stuff.


"Oh, it is on like a prawn who yawns at dawn." - Andy, The Office

Friday, December 14, 2012

20 - Half, pt.4


  On the day of Eve's graduation, over 70% of the people in her class were matched with their clock partners.
   Hers had reached zero.
   She had met no one.
   This kind of thing simply wasn't supposed to happen. All people had matches, all people had functional watches. All people had their lives laid out for them.
   Eve felt lost. Even up until the end of her senior year, she had been the subject of ridicule in the hallways. She was never going to find love, and that made her a freak. In her secret places she knelt and cried over the stark, unflinching numbers that stared back at her from her wrist. They were unremovable. No surgical procedures had been invented for the removal of watches, and tearing it off would cause unrepairable damage to her arm. They were never going to go away. They would always be a brand of her failure.
    After the graduation, Eve ran away to the corner of her mother's garden where a wooden swing awaited her. She loved such vintage, strange things, and she enjoyed mechanics. Growing up, she had built all kinds of little machines and tiny robots and mechanical organisms. She was good with her hands, good with intricate work. And her love for machinery was yet one more thing that made her different from everyone else. 
     On the swing, she cried. It wasn't so much the fact that her life would never involve loving someone else; that didn't bother her as much as the realization that no one would ever accept her. She would have difficulty finding a job, difficulty fitting in anywhere, because life had denied her so many things that everyone else had.
     Her quiet sobs were heard only by the grass and the trees and the sky, only the organic things. Her graduation cap and gown lay piled in a heap on the grassy earth, pressed into the mud for all she cared. She didn't notice her mother's presence in the garden until warm arms wrapped around her shoulders. 
    "Stop feeling so sorry for yourself," said her mother.
    Eve looked at her sharply, face swollen from crying. "What?" she muttered weakly. 
    Her mother stated, "You're making this much worse than it needs to be."
    Eve looked away. She expected more sympathy.
    "Think about it, Eve," said her mother,  squeezing her shoulders gently. "You are capable. You're strong. You're talented. You're beautiful."
    Eve had heard the ridicules of the boys in her class and thought otherwise.
    "Have you seen what your hands can do?" Her mother's hand dug into the pocket of her apron and emerged bearing a tiny mechanical bird. It was crafted from scraps of polished metal, extra screws, random springs. She held it up to Eve, and it gleamed in the sun. Its structure was masterful. Eve took it reluctantly and stared at it. 
    "Eve, I don't care what the world says about you," said the mother softly. "You can do things that no one else I know can." She wrapped her fingers around her daughter's wrist, hiding the clock. "It is not up to some clock to determine what your life is going to be. It's up to you, Eve. You're the one with a head full of sense and imagination. I know that's who you are. And I know that you're going to make it. You're going to be able to make a life for yourself."
    Three days later, Eve had answered an ad in the newspaper. She was going to work at a laboratory.
    This was the beginning of her new life.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

19 - night thoughts


 Why can I never do things when I need to do them? I rather need sleep, but I also rather need to finish these blog posts. Rather is a rather nice word. Rather, rather. Lather. Rrawr.

Has anyone ever considered that maybe "Rawrr" does not indeed mean "I love you" in dinosaur? Maybe it actually means "You look scrumptious and I would like to eat you".

I love you. How is anyone supposed to know when these three little words are actually sincere?

I need a hug.

Tomorrow is Friday.

The Hobbit is being released.

I am taking an AP Bio test.

I don't feel like posting any gifs at the moment.

How inadequate words are.

Maybe our universe is actually wrapped in a large blue velvet blanket, and the things we think are stars are just holes. Maybe when we blast off into space, if we kept going and going and going we would hit the blanket and bounce back, even if the tangible parts of the blanket are millions and millions and millions of light years away. Maybe that blanket is part of a larger Earth, spun by a handmaiden in the middle ages. Maybe the cycle continues. Maybe our blankets contain universes. 

Maybe France isn't as far away as I think it is.

kiss the rain



deep in the meadow
under the willow
a bed of grass
a soft green pillow
lay down your head
and close your eyes
and when they open
the sun will rise

here it's safe
here it's warm 
here the daisies guard you from every harm
here your dreams are sweet
and tomorrow brings them true
here is the place where i love you

deep in the meadow 
hidden far away
a cloak of leaves
a moonbeam ray
forget your woes
and let your troubles lay
and when it's morning
they'll wash away

here it's safe
here it's warm 
here the daisies guard you from every harm
here your dreams are sweet
and tomorrow brings them true
here is the place where i love you

18 - Make Her Pay


Writing prompt: Red eyes.

( warning: Considering that this is absolutely insanely incredibly perfect for a Homestuck fanfiction, that is what I'm going to write. If you are not a Homestuck fan, don't even bother to read this because you will be very confused. That is all. The art below is not mine. )


  It was all red.
  Then black.
  
  She could feel the light.
  She pushed herself up to a sitting position.
  It took her much longer to realize what had happened than it really should have. 
  M4YB3 1F 1 BL1NK.
  Blink. Blink.
  It was there. The light. But too far beyond the reach of what her face could make sense of. She raised a hand, waved it in front of her face. Wave. Wave.
  Blink. Blink.
  Nothing.
  The grass was cool between her fingers. She tightened her grip and moved her wrist sharply upward. The thin plants tore from the ground, dripping with earth. She brought the clump closer to her nostrils. Organic beauty filled her lungs. Curious, she licked at the bottom of the clump. Across her vision burst a nebula of feelings, sights that couldn't be seen, colors unknown. She licked it again. The taste was ecstasy. The taste allowed her to see.
   She let her hand fall back to earth and suddenly covered her eyes with the heels of her hands. Dark. Black. She took them away and fell back to the ground, back thumping against the earth. Light. White.
    And she knew.
    She was going to need a pair of shades.

17 - horizons; define it; hip revelations

words mean nothing when you don't know what to say
or when you can't speak
you're too shocked
afraid.
lonely.
it gets lonely sometimes
i guess it does for everyone
but i'm still waiting for things to begin
why have they not bloomed
like nebulous clouds, a glittering constellation
bright new birth
the start of time
the start of a golden age
still stuck in the navy blue and gold age
stuck there.
stuck
stuck
tar slurps at your ankles
and you can't get away.
you have to wait.
someone will come for you eventually.
maybe.
it depends on trust
and what you make of what you have
still stuck at home 
when home can be anywhere
and i wish it was somewhere else
somewhere bright and strange and foreign
unfathomable
unaverage
the reception of good news
has left me feeling
rather the opposite.
mechanisms on my teeth
"they'll make you beautiful"
they say.
well
i don't want beautiful
i want mysterious, strong, dignified
interesting, individual, intelligent
in in in 
i would rather have anything
than beauty
god knows what beauty even is
why strive for something 
when the definition
is still unknown
who even cares to find out
i don't.
not meant to be a poem
just thoughts
they ring 
wanting exit
wanting to be shouted across the world
a wave of force
strong enough to sever a thousand trees
to whip back the tops of the mountains
everest.
i am the whole geeky package
and i wouldn't trade it
for the world.
that's the best thing
isn't it
that feeling 
it's just that 
this place has outgrown me
don't broader horizons exist?
will they ever?
i wish they would
please, o please,
broad horizons, 
show yourselves.
sooner would be nice.

coherent thoughts
are too mainstream.
let's all be hipsters
holla
poets are hipsters
aren't they

shakespeare
u so hipster

16 - Memories


    You know those moments where something is happening that's so wonderful that time seems to stop, and later you look back on it and realize that the event has been forever hallowed within your head as one of those extremely fond memories that stay with you forever, which you wouldn't have guessed would happen unless you did in fact look back on it? Then whenever you're doing nothing your mind automatically goes to those moments, and you can remember all the little details that made it so perfect.
    Some of the memories like this in my head include being on the set of The Hunger Games and exploring the Wizarding World of Harry Potter with my dad in August, especially standing in line for the dragon roller coaster and drinking butter beer and sharing a geek connection with someone in the gift shop. I wish I had asked them what their name was. I remember how on our last day in Florida, my dad went to a modeling convention in a Disney hotel so I sat outside on a bench outside the conference room and drew in my sketchbook and watched the people go by. I was extremely hungry. Once a group of girls came by, and one of them complimented my drawing and asked me if I had read Homestuck, which I hadn't. Not yet. Then another girl came by who was wearing a shirt that said "Keep Calm and Eheheh", which is a reference to Loki from the Avengers. In Epcott there was this employee in the Canada gift shop who freaked out over my Doctor Who shirt and told me that they were going to start selling Doctor Who merchandise in the England section. She wrote me a magical moments postcard, which apparently they give out at Disney when magical things happen, and I still have it. Her name was Megan. 
     There was this one thing that happened at Universal. Maybe I'll write a story about it.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

15 - Improbable Goings-On in the Burgess Stop n' Save, pt. 2


- Sparrow - 

   The falling snow gives way to bright lights and warm air as I enter the grocery store. There aren't many people inside, though I can see a few cashiers working at the checkout lanes. A large woman in a fur coat walks past me on her way to the register, and I catch a scent of her perfume. It must be some sort of wintry blend, with heavy notes of peppermint. I turn away hurriedly to keep from gagging, pressing my nose into the softness of my lavender scarf. At least she appears to be on her way out.
    I remember suddenly that I came here for a reason and pull off my gloves as I wander over to a Christmas display. A small ceramic snowman figurine is sitting atop a few boxes of outdoor lights. I smile and pick him up, looking at his painted black eyes and carrot nose. His top hat is chipped, the glossy black surface interrupted by a chunk of white. "What are you doing there? That's not where you belong," I tell him. Nearby is a shelf full of snowman figurines just like him, sans the chipped top hat. I plop him down in the center of them, but he is the odd one out, the misfit, looking too imperfect among the unflawed ebony tops. So I smile and pick him up again, this time placing him in my shopping basket. "Those conforming idiots aren't even worth your time," I tell him. I am sure he agrees as we leave the vicinity of the ceramic snowman clone army.
     Soup. That is what I came here for. I eat more soup than any senior I know, especially in winter. Especially in front of the television, during those parties that I don't get invited to. I turn sharply as I exit the aisle, nearly plowing into a freezer full of cookie dough. I carefully read the signs that indicate what is on each aisle. My black flats click on the floor. Aha! Canned products. I enter the aisle and stop in front of the shelf full of soup.
     Well. I bend forward, narrowing my eyes. There is some selection. I reach out and pick up one can of French Onion soup, then grab one of Broccoli Cheddar. My scarf slips off my shoulder and lands in a soft pile on the floor.
      A hand picks it up for me.
      I look up. A boy is standing there, looking at me expectantly as he holds the scarf towards me. Judging from the TARDIS-blue apron, he's an employee.
      I smile and reach for the scarf, but then realize my hands are full of soup. I place the French Onion back on the shelf and retrieve my scarf. "Thank you," I say kindly, then turn back to the shelf.
      I stand there for a few more minutes, indecisive. Broccoli Cheddar is my favorite, but that bean stuff looks good as well.
      "Are you trying to decide which soup to buy?" someone asks. I am surprised to see the same employee stacking cans on the shelf behind me. His hands move fast, and he looks down at the label, then back at me, eyebrows raised as he waits for me to answer.
     "Yes," I say. I hold up the Broccoli Cheddar.
     He nods politely and comes over to the shelf. He stares at it for a brief moment before snatching up a can and holding it toward me. "May I recommend the Chicken Barley?"
     I take it, staring down at the crimson lettering. "Thank you," I say, slightly flustered. No one ever really talks to me, not at school and not in public. I've never really minded, but now I realize that I don't interact very well. I look at him silently. He is taller than me, with messy dark hair and eyes in a sort of light brown topaz-ish shade. His face is bright and alert. I suddenly notice the TARDIS pin cinched to his apron. We are geek connected!
     I open my mouth, then close it. "Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey," I blurt out.
     My eyes widen. That was stupid. You don't just make geek references with people. What will he even -
     He laughs. "Yes! Actually, I -"
     "Thank you for the soup!" I cry, practically racing away. My heart is still pounding by the time I leave the store with my Chicken Barley soup in a plastic bag. I just can't deal with people. I'm so awkward. I ruin everything.
     I get into my car and sit there for a moment, thinking.
     I pull out the can and stare at the label.
     Chicken Barely soup.
   
     I didn't even read his name tag.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

14 - high school dance things and cheeseburger secrets

   On Sunday night, I attended a dance... thing. There was loud music and punch and fancy clothes and teenagers everywhere. Ash Hunter (blog here) invited me, and it was quite interesting. I have never been to a high school dance. I did not dance with anyone. Ash did. I was happy to comply with third wheeling, third wheeling through time and space. I am surprised that she hasn't blogged about it yet. (hinthintashgoblogaboutithint)
   I wore a skirt and a shirt and some tights and some sparkly fingerless gloves. I kept eating cheetos out of the massive bowl at the back, and Ash claims that this was where I spent the evening, although I really only ate, like, seven. Really. The punch was green, and I called it Hulk Juice, but they ran out of that and it became blue instead. I renamed it Jack Frost juice. 
   There was a lot of dancing. I pretty much embarrassed myself with my never-before-attempted dance moves, and then I noticed that some people from school were there and I'm pretty sure that was the moment when I migrated towards the massive heavenly cheetos bowl. The high schoolers were forced to perform a synchronized dance contest thing that involved jazz hands and the Gangnam Style dance. I learned how to do it in about five minutes and did just as badly as everyone else, which was comforting. I met a girl and talked with her about Homestuck. I met a guy who seemed to like Ash. I met a glorious red velvet cupcake, and we rather enjoyed each other's company.
    When all of the socializing and dancing and consumption of cheetos and Jack Frost punch had ended, I went home with Ash because we had school together the next day and  it was late anyways. In the car we sang songs from Les Mis loudly and harmoniously. At home, Ash threatened to grill me like a cheeseburger. I will not reveal over what topic she wished to cook me to a juicy medium-rare and then melt a creamy, smooth slice of american cheese over me.
    And that is the story of my first ever high school dance thing. I will watch out for cheeseburgers in the future.

Why, I almost forgot to end this with a quote. "Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn. My God, do you learn." - C.S. Lewis

13 - Xander, Ronan, and a Very Angry Swampus


    "Just stay quiet. I think it's blind," whispered Xander, one hand gripping his crossbow. He crouched with assurance and poise, his eyes focused on the beast, grinning devilishly as if this were a game. "But get ready to run."
    The humid air, thick with the smell of the swamp, pressed down around us, against our lungs. Even pressure surrounded us from all sides, but it was heavy on my mind, wrenching sweat from my brow and fear from my stomach. I looked at the measly blade of my dagger, small and useless in my hand as it gleamed in the torchlight. 
    A splash boomed behind us, and a few droplets of water plunked across my face. I peeked out over the damp edge of our wooden boat as reeds pressed against my feet. 
    The swampus snuffled along, massive claws stirring the muddy water, head moving side to side. Its head moved in the vicinity of the torchlight, and nestled in the side of its face, beneath a bony ridge edged with spikes, was a pearl-white orb. It was blind, alright. 
    Out of thin air a bolt lodged in its eye. The swampus loosed an agonized cry, tearing the fiber of the air with its noise. It lifted a huge foot and brought it down hard, creating a splash that soaked Xander and I. I tossed him a desperate look, sputtering as I clambered into the boat. He returned it with an elated grin as water dripped down into his face. We both knew how easily we could get out of this situation. And we both knew how much Xander loved to agitate me.
     Another splash rocked the boat, slamming it into the tall reeds. Xander let out a whoop of delight. The swampus jerked its head in our direction, lashing its tail to the side and whipping apart an island of swamp grass.
    "Shut up!" I whispered urgently at Xander. He laughed, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light as he raised his crossbow. "Loosen up, Ronan!" he exclaimed. I grabbed the nearby paddle and jammed it into the water, pushing us away from the plant-heavy shore. The snap of the crossbow sounded, and the swampus let out another roar even more terrible than the last. My heart dropped, and I watched it, fearing the worst. It reared back and threw itself forward, sending a spire of glittering green water soaring into the air. I screamed as it crashed down on us. 
     "You're making this very difficult!" I sputtered at Xander as I struggled to even out the weight of the dinghy. We bumped against the rough grasses. I grabbed the single paddle from where it floated in the bottom of the boat and began to paddle furiously, away from the swampus, churning the paddle through mud and grime. I threw a glance back at the swampus. It was moving toward us now, and the small, useless wings on its back were fluttering agitatedly. The paddle slipped out of my hand and plunked into the filthy water. The swampus opened its huge maw and loosed a jet of steam, drenching us in heat. 
      "Xander! Get us OUT OF HERE!" I roared, in a way that was not entirely different from that of the swampus. Our boat bobbed helplessly beneath the foggy air, atop the disgusting water. The swampus was increasingly disoriented and increasingly angry, and another splash sent our vehicle surging away from it, almost capsizing. Water soaked us once again. And through it all, Xander laughed.
      He lifted his palm, and in that peculiar way, light seemed to fly to his hand, conglomerating into an orb which he threw in front of the boat. There, hovering above the water, it exploded into a hole, a window hanging in the air. I leaped through it without hesitation, landing hard. Xander followed with a yell of excitement. The light boomed and disappeared as the portal closed behind us. 
      I hoisted myself up to the top of the hill and collapsed, breathing heavily as the grass tickled me in all my dampness. I struggled to catch my breath as the purple sunset sky wheeled above me. Xander flopped down beside me, laughing like a jester, his crossbow gripped in his hand.
       I expended my newly gathered breath to give Xander some badly-needed words. "Have I told you lately that I hate you?"
       Xander pushed himself upward until he was in a sitting position, then pounded my shoulder amicably. "Ronan, brother, there is no sight more entertaining than that of an upset swampus." His grin enlarged, and he collapsed into laughter. "And a blind one, at that! It was perfect!" The sound of his mirth was warm on the evening air. 
       I stood up with effort and began to walk toward the distant castle, wringing out the hem of my damp tunic. "Well, I am not amused," I called back to him moodily, leaving him lying alone on the side of the hill.

12 - Improbable Goings-On in the Burgess Stop n' Save, pt. 1

- Caspian -

   The woman's perfume is stiflingly minty and strong. I wrinkle my nose minutely and turn away from the woman, slipping a box of cat treats into a paper bag as my eyes begin to water. "That'll be $24.60," I said cheerfully, not inhaling.
    I watch awkwardly as the large woman rummages around in a faux-leather purse the color of dirty dishwater. Her arm, wrapped in the sleeve of a heavy fur coat, emerges clutching two crinkled and slightly damp $20 bills, which I cram into the cash register.  I then wait patiently for the change to be dispensed into my palm. 
    "Thank you, ma'am," I pronounce, dropping the money and receipt into the woman's meaty hand. She wraps her fingers around it, grabs her bag of groceries, and waddles away, leaving a cloud of pepperminty perfume in her wake.
    As soon as the blast of cold air signals her having left the store, I bend down and inhale sharply, pivoting away from the scent. It is like shoving peppermints up your nostrils, or drowning in mouthwash. I wave the air away from my face and look down to the end of my checkout lane. No one is waiting. It doesn't look like anyone is at any of the other lanes, aside from a few scattered employees, lingering or working. Things here are unusually this silent.
     As soon as I turn around, Necita is there, a crate of cans filling the space between us. "Stock these," she purrs in her heavy Spanish accent. I blink begrudgingly as I take the weight into my arms and made my way toward the canned foods aisle.
     My name is Cas. I'm 17. I have a dog and a mother and no girlfriend. I spend my Saturdays and Sundays working in the Burgess Stop n' Save, the only grocery store within 45 miles of this sleepy Ontario town. There are gas stations and things, but the Stop n' Save sees every one of the town's inhabitants at least once a month. It is large, somewhere in between a Harris Teeter and a Kroger in size, and is vaguely busy most of the time. It is boring, despite the fact that I know all of the people who come in regularly. Nothing exciting ever happens here, but isn't that what we all crave? Excitement, adventure, new faces? It's funny how we all spend so much time wanting things that could be attainable if we just bothered to reach for them. This thought crosses my mind as I walk past a man staring blankly up at a box of macaroni on the top shelf, as if the ability to move his arms has left him.
     I take a detour through the cleaning aisle, breathing in the scents of all the smelly clean things, and take a few more heavy steps before I end up on the next aisle. I slide the heavy crate onto an empty shelf, exhaling with relief as the weight leaves my arms. I have to let them relax for a bit before the numbness goes away. My eyes wander down the aisle.
     There is a girl.
     She has light blonde hair styled in a sort of overgrown pixie cut. A glittery black headband rests atop the sunlight-colored streaks. Her eyes are narrowed in concentration as she peruses the selection of canned tomatoes. She's wearing a purple scarf and a black coat, and I notice that she's standing on her tiptoes, as if preparing to take flight.
     I have not seen her around here before.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

11 - what even is this post

   Today I saw Rise of the Guardians again, in 3D this time. I regret nothing. It was marvelous, but better the first time. Jack Frost was still beautiful hmrrrrrr wut


 Then I went to Office Max and got some retractable erasers, as well as a 24-pack of mechanical pencils. :3 I'm working on filling up my sketchbook. I've only done 23 drawings in it since I got it in July. I actually did 3 drawings of Jack Frost this week, and I think one of my friends was getting annoyed by it. xD Right now I'm drawing the lonely angel from Ed Sheeran's "Give Me Love" music video, and she kind of looks like Emma Watson. 

I love The Great Gatsby so much that I don't even know what to do. My feelings. 
#PARTY AT GATSBY'S

I got an idea for a story to put on this blog. It involves a grocery store, which is funny because the opening scene of my NaNoWriMo involves my main character racing around in a grocery store evading zombies. She reveals to the reader that uncooked chicken noodle soup is disgusting and that no-traction shoes are a bad idea for a zombie apocalypse.  

Tomorrow is Sunday. The Hobbit is coming out next Friday, which is also the last day of school before Christmas break unless you're taking exams. Holy Mackerel, it's Christmas. Christmas is wonderful. Words words words. 

Now I leave you with this universally applicable gif of Wilfred Mott:

Friday, December 7, 2012

10 - LES MISÉRABLES AW YISS


So I found these interesting pictures of Eddie Redmayne and am now giving them bad captions.




I just realized I left the text box around the strike a pose part in the last one. Oops.

Here's a fun fact: the people designing the costumes for Les Mis actually based the fabric used for Marius' trousers off the color of Eddie Redmayne's eyes. So that's that. I bet Marius Pontmercy wears trousers matched to his eye color every day. So that's cool. Woot.




    Here's an official clip from "A Heart Full of Love". Eddie Redmayne is perfect. That part with the "I'm doing everything all wrong!" is flawless. Amanda Seyfried is alright. She uses a little too much vibrato, I think, and that makes her sound like a goat on helium, but it sort of conveys the innocence in her voice. It's not like I'm a singing coach or anything. xD 

    I recently watched the Les Miserables 25th Anniversary Concert, and it was amazing. Even Nick Jonas was amazing. Everyone thinks he's awful as Marius, but I think it's just because all the other singers are professional stage performers, and he's a pop star. I don't know why they casted him, but the fact that his voice was less operatic than everyone else's makes him stand out.

   I just really want the Les Mis film, like, now. 

   This means that I am halfway through this quarter's blog posts! I've been doing those normal ranty posts recently instead of actual writing. Not to mention the blog is due on the 14th. Looks like I'll have to finish all those stories that I wrote halfway and left. Like "The Girl Who Waited" and "Half" and "The New Vroengard Chronicles" and all those journal entries for Aster. I think that I'll start making the segments of "Half" long enough so that they actually make sense. 

So now I leave you with a quote that Eponine gives Marius in the unabridged Les Mis: "It is very becoming to you to have your hair tumbled thus."

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

9 - nipping at your nose


Today I realized that my happiness is directly related to how I'm doing in school. I did badly on a Spanish test and have a zero test grade in English - for a test I haven't even taken yet - and it made me feel awful. I'm pathetic. Thanks for the pressure, prestigious universities and potential parental explosions.

On a lighter note. . . 

Jack Frost.









IF YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED I REALLY LOVED RISE OF THE GUARDIANS

I seem to have a lot of gifs of Jack Frost. Heh. :3

He's just beautiful, okay?! And I am an artist who enjoys good animation. Look at all the little details! 


Look at Tooth's feathers, all iridescent. See how fuzzy they look? Her fingers are so tiny and perfect. If you look closely, she has perfectly manicured fingernails. And Jack has pointy teeth like a dog or something. Look at how pale his skin is compared with Tooth's -  and he has those tiny little grayish freckles on his cheeks. JUST LOOK AT ALL THE PERFECTION AND BEAUTY

Gosh, I just really loved this movie. It was visually stunning. I wanted to hug all of it. Mandjsakdsaiwoea. The whole sand idea was absolutely beautiful, with the golden dream substance and the purplish nightmare sand stuff twirling through the air. I love how carefree and imaginative it all was.

I've drawn Jack Frost multiple times in my sketchbook because he is flawless. His face is fun to drawn because his eyes are so wide, and his head is so square, and his eyebrows are so long, and his hair is so pointy. And his hoodie has all the little frosty details. I like details. 

Welp, this has done nothing but render me an insane blabbering fangirl, shamelessly spamming everyone with gifs of Jack Frost but JUST LOOK AT HIS FACE IN THE FIRST GIF OKAY

Alright. That's all. Bye. I'm not even leaving you with a quote this time because there's nothing that can get this post out of the gutter. :3

jack frost 5ever yay