In a writing mood. How strange

I will be honest. I haven't been writing all these days, and definitely not constantly in more then a year. I've had a few bursts, but lately I've been thinking about other things like film, scripts and general ughness. That being school. But I am feeling quite proud because I have an urge. It's amazing this thing I'm feeling. I feel as though I can write again. At least I'm thinking about writing. That's a sure sign of something new. I know my epic novel idea kind of failed. I can admit that. But I think it was just too average of me. It wasn't getting the right message across. In fact, that's probably because I didn't know what that message was. Perhaps in a later time I will know. There are almost hundreds of idea's that I've had in this lifetime and I don't think I've forgotten them. they still exist on scraps around the place. I find them all the time. It's good fun.

Reading Harry Potter once more has enlightened me to an old and magical idea I once had. I planned thoroughly for it last September and then kind of, left it. But now, after finding the majority of my notes I have decided to try again. I like it, the feeling I mentioned before. It's almost like I'm back to being me again. I've missed being well and truly me. I know I've changed a bit, what with the film and the way I'm acting and general school and all that but there has been a part of me that I know will never change that has been missing. It's been lost in the back of my head.

I think I may have found it, but I cannot be sure. I'm never sure these days, I don't hope. I just think. Sometimes they happen, sometimes they don't. I getting better at guessing, but that eventually leads to hope which I'm trying to avoid. I'm getting my life back on track. It's about time. It's getting better. I just need to practice.

My mother should read this. She'd reconsider her opinions about my life.
At least, she should.

Extra information

A hare one day ridiculed the short feet and slow pace of the Tortoise, who replied, laughing: "Though you be swift as the wind, I will beat you in a race." The Hare, believing his assertion to be simply impossible, assented to the proposal; and they agreed that the Fox should choose the course and fix the goal. On the day appointed for the race the two started together. The Tortoise never for a moment stopped, but went on with a slow but steady pace straight to the end of the course. The Hare, lying down by the wayside, fell fast asleep. At last waking up, and moving as fast as he could, he saw the Tortoise had reached the goal, and was comfortably dozing after his fatigue.


Don't tell me what you don't know. Don't pretend to understand. Don't look at my eyes and say what it really is. Don't say the truth. Don't lie. Please, just stop talking.

the tortoise

Spies

Enlightened by many things today

Coldplay

STRAWBERRY SWING!



J.K. Rowling

HARRY POTTER



BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

Although, in the case of school work, I am a non succeeding failure because I flunked one maths test. I got told that there are rules in this house and I am to follow them. I will graduate high school with flying colours and I will get a place at university. I will? Will I? I don't even know
if I want to. I read on a card my English teacher handed to me today and apparently I am part of the Gifted and Talented Program. How can I be part of this program if I don't necessarily feel gifted and talented. What does that even mean?

I've been told my entire life that I am smart and gifted and great and blah blah blah. But I really don't think I am. My mother tells me I will be top of the class. What if I don't want to be. I really don't think my fate rests on me being the top of maths class, surely. It can't, that's pretty darn impossible.

Irony is a nifty thing. Thinking that this year is going rather great has jinxed the eventual outcome. Something terrible is going to happen. I can feel it. I'm going mad. I can hear things in my head. I can sense something is coming. It's not a maths test, I'm sure of that. And it's not Judgement Day, not yet.

It's fate. I'm never going to escape. I'm stuck here. Forever.

I'm stuck in my head.

Chicago

I love Sufjan Stevens because is he the only person I know of who can use words to describe what life really is. It's important to know someone like that, because these days especially I've been needing someone to tell me.

Can I really jinx the next six months into being horrible just because for a second I thought life was good? Is life really that horrible? God is dead, but there is still something out there torturing us. Not someone, something. I believe it's something.

I vow to love Bridgette Brown for the rest of my brief, uneventful life

I am a dinosaur,
I eat your flesh



Oh, and by the way, your mad.

Birthdays and Bright Side

Oh deary me, another one has come. Isn't it terrible. I'm sure it's a sign of the continuation of life or something but honestly, the things it does to people. It's strange. I can't get my head around it. I think everyone is bi-polar. They feel one thing one second and another the next. Don't call it humanity, that's just cliche. And I've had enough of cliche's this fine - not all that fine, its raining - day. There are people crying and people walking and people driving and people arguing over who got flowers, who didn't get flowers, who wants flowers and who wants nothing. People say they don't want something, the decide they do at the last minute. People say they want nothing but never say out loud that they do. It's impossible to understand. Maybe that's why God is dead, or maybe he didn't, maybe he just left because he was so sick of how we turned out to be.

CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE


Mumford & Sons

On the Bright Side

Isn't it a funny thing. I don't really want to learn any language that a majority of some place actually knows, but one that was invented around 1930-1950 and that only really appears in a series of books written by J.R.R. Tolkien and an epic movie series directed by Peter Jackson. Yes I am talking about Middle Earth and yes I am talking about the language of the elves. Elvish.
If anyone was interested, that is an example of Sindarin Mode. I think anyway. It's to do with the vowels I have learnt from a very brilliant site. To study Tengwar. And in case anyone was wondering, Elvish is not as easy as it looks. If you think it's simple, you know, learning an alphabet and then writing it, you are COMPLETELY wrong. It's complicated and it's not just single letters. One character could mean three letters together, or three different letters. The dots and dashes you can see above are the marks of the vowels. You can tell it's Sindarin they appear after the constanants.

Actually, scratch that. it might be Quenya.

Honestly, I really have no idea what I'm going on about. Please pay no attention to me.

Now lets get to the point of today's morning post and say:
Today I am going to On the Bright Side. for all of you who don't it is a festival based in Perth, Western Australia. And guess who's going to be there?

MUMFORD AND SONS!

Thought you might like to know.

I can feel them, crawling inside my brain...

Eyes from the tree take me down the way

Red riders of the dark
Help me through this maze
Do you know, mister, of this place?
Do you know, mister?
No time to waste

Won't you help me be on my way?
Won't you help me be on my way?
So I can set me free

Saw murder in her eyes
The dark of a thousand crows
Cold thriller in disguise
Blue shadows stitched to her toes

Do you know, mister, of this place?
Do you know, mister?
No time to waste

There's propergand for everyman
On the paperstand you know
When will the spinsters face
Let give that twist of grace you know

Do you know, mister, of this place?
Do you know, mister?
No time to waste

I don't ever want to leave music behind.

Namárië

Boy & Bear

I don't suppose it is impossible to fall in love with nothing.
I think defying the odds encourages my insanity.

Age should not be taken for granted

Today I ask the world: Is today different?

The answer? I am beyond answering. It is impossible to describe the thoughts of age through English words, or any words. It is an odd feeling, I can say that. I've never really thought about age in this way before. As though it is limited and birthday's shall soon be gone. Perhaps it's just because I'm realising that I'm actually growing up, and this is it.

No more brooding, now is a time for celebration, I think? Would I be predictable if I said I had stopped writing my Epic novel? Probably. That's a stupid question. I don't know, I just don't find it imaginative enough. If I'm writing something I don't want it to only reflect my depressing thoughts on life and death and judgement. I want it to entertain and teach and inspire. I really don't think my epic novel was going down that direction. I admit the summary I wrote for it did have that kind of twang I was searching for, but if I compare it to similar works it lacks something. Right now I am re-reading the Harry Potter Series and the writing (especially in the first one) is so catchy and addictive. I need to produce something fun like J.K. Rowling has, or something beautiful like Meg Rosoff. I need to accomplish this to actually write a book.

My Opinion. Will probably fail.

Point of this rant is that yesterday was my birthday (although Blogger will probably say it still is, what with time differences and all) and I loved it.

Be careful what you wish for

Birthdays are always strange times of the year for me, more so now that I'm getting to the point of actual aging. Before when I was still a kid birthdays weren't about getting older, they were about presents and cake and friends and being the center of attention for a day. Now, they almost symbolize things. They symbolize moments in your life: growing up, restrictions, responsibility, maturing and relationships. On the coming Saturday I will be able to watch restricted movies and go to concerts by myself. I will be halfway through one person's life a thousand years ago. Growing up seems quite strange to me now. When I think about older people having birthday's, I just think of it as a day instead of them being a whole year older, when they're not really. Because how can you say that that one day means they're a whole year older when in fact they were pretty much the same age the day before, it's just recorded now.

I'm thinking that since I shall soon be 15 it's time to think more about myself. Not in a grown up way, I still want to be a kid but it's only lately that I've really started thinking about myself and how I look and how I act and if I'm really happy with who I'm becoming. I think this is the beginning. My life finally starts here and I think I'm excited, but I'm a little scared as well, because not to long ago being this age was just a dream and I thought being this age would feel old and I would have power or something. But I don't. I feel pretty much the same health wise. I've just realised.

This is it. It's going to be gone soon.

What do we do?

Enjoy it.

Sometimes I wish I could erase certain memories and go over them again, try again, but in a different way with different people or in a different place. I wish I could replay my life and realise at a younger age how shallow I was, and can still be. It's almost like when I was 11 years old and I fell in love with words I could create something beautiful but outside I was still a rotten kid who didn't really care about other people or what things meant or what life meant. I wish that I was still innocent back then and could have been a kid for longer. It's almost to late now. Soon I'll have to really grow up and when that happens, there really will be no going back.

Storm's comin'

I am sitting at my desk waiting for 7pm because apparently my house is going to fall down. Well, okay that's a bit of an exaggeration but I just love it when there's a storm. I can play Vivaldi and lie in bed just listening to the pitter patter of rain on a tin roof. I'm hoping I can become inspired for my novel, which kind of has a name. The Scarlet Cape. I was thinking of calling it The Scarlet Curtain since that actually sounds a little niftier but I'm finding a cape to be more significant to the actual story. I have written a summary, as simple as I could which I soon realised was nearly impossible to do. I never knew I could create something quite so complicated in only a week or so. Is that all? One week? Wow. There must be something about this story that's getting me quite entranced. This hasn't happened in years. Here's the summary:

Book One The Scarlet Cape
Cardya Takara is in trouble. He knows too much. The Dead City seemed pretty quiet until he found the scarlet cape. Now Aran Valde seems to be out to get him. But unknown to Cardya it isn't just him Aran Valde wants. The Takya Warriors have always been strong but ever since the Demon Wars, members of the Takara family have been a bit different. And now, four generations later, a jealous member of the council wants to purify the Takya race and give reason for Lucifer to rise. But that's not the only problem. Strange demon activities have been occurring within the Dead City and everyone is talking about some angel appearing. And everyone knows Cardya's little sister has something angelic inside of her, and all the demons seem to know too.

Yes, I did realise that once I started writing the summary Cardya Takara was kind of seeming like the main character. Which wasn't the initial plan. My original protagonist was of course Cartya Takara who I imagined being around fifteen or sixteen years old. But as I rewrote my prologue this afternoon, Cardya is said to be sixteen and Cartya is a little younger. Maybe fourteen? I've decided to go along with my summary and make Cardya more of a standout character. Although it's going to be important to remember that all of the events actually happen because of Cartya, because of the whole Angel thing. More on that later. I'm debating whether to post the prologue on an originally trusted site www.booksie.com. Now I'm not sure. A fellow writer I met on the site stopped publishing her novel in the making on the site because of a copyright incident on her earlier novel. And I think that may have stopped her from actually publishing it. I may have to e-mail the site about copyright. I'd like to know that my work is safe, especially since I'm quite enthusiastic about this.

"It's because I never stopped, stupid head."
I love Bridgette Brown's photography.

Why are you backing away from me like that?

I have a personal quote that has never been said out loud.

"I don't think you understand the importance of Bach."

I am thinking that since today is Saturday and I am lying in bed wondering whether I should write, read, watch Buffy or meditate, Bach is a wonderful place to begin. The art of classical music (that is real classical music) has been lost in our generation of pop music and rap crap. I even have storm music, from Vivaldi himself. Winter I in case anyone was wondering.

Those artists who can incorporate real classical music into their songs are my heroes. I think it is a rare talent (been thinking a lot about rare talents lately). For example right now I am listening to Joanna Newsom's first album. With a unique voice and a harp or harpsichord music can reach a whole new level.

I find music to be an important part of writing. If I am listening to the right music words seem to flow easier and quicker. With my new EPIC novel the one difficulty I am finding is I cannot find a style of music that would suite it. No soundtracks or classical pieces have inspired me the way some have for other writing pieces. This is making it hard for me to begin. Even though I have attempted a prologue and first chapter there seems to be a kind of heart missing. It is almost as though I am not loving it as much as I normally would and I am only guessing, but I think this absence comes from the lack of the right kind of music.

I am only assuming it would be classical. I think I shall try Chopin.

I love Meg Rosoff

My favourite novel of all time I think is always going to be How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff. I have never in my short nearly fifteen years of life read anything as beautiful as this. Something as small as life and love captured from the point of view of someone so broken but unable to express it in a way that isn't destroying herself. I know attention seeking is bad but whenever I read this I can't help but feel for the protagonist, Daisy, who starves herself for her father's love. And when she is sent away to England to stay with cousins and an aunt she has never met, you can see her pain and anger almost fall away because of the love for these people, and for this place.

Of course there is a war and heartbreak and more pain and loss, but even after everything, this character can accept it all and keep going because of something she has found. Irony is a wonderful word.

I can't help but use this novel as a guide for anything I want to create in words because even if the grammar isn't perfect it has an honesty about it that I think most writers struggle to find. It's almost like thinking of your own beliefs and what you would do in that kind of situation and describe those feelings in a way that isn't like word vomit.

I have nearly completed the current situation in which my new EPIC novel is based. I'm trying to get an idea of exactly where my characters are and how they would feel in the situation they are in. If I can prove their feelings are genuine through their words and actions, I think I would be proud. Even if my book is never completed I would know I have achieved something very few people have. Of course this achievement will be based on my own opinion on it but, I'm writing for me, aren't I?

Friendly inspiration of the John Lennon kind

No, I am not a Beatles fan and no, I'm not ever going to become one but ever since my society teacher showed us Imagine on the anniversary of the death of John Lennon, I have been intrigued. And well, my slight crush on Aaron Johnson can't and shouldn't be denied so I am please to say that today I saw the film Nowhere Boy. It is a tale of John Lennon before and during his music career and how he deals with his Aunt and Mother and growing up.

I also cannot deny that in that last few months especially the idea of film has been quite intriguing so this arty like film had me seriously interested.

Writing now! During my artistic revelations of the past day I have also managed to complete a somewhat history of my Takya Warriors and have even attempted writing the first chapter for my new EPIC novel. That would be sarcasm, if I weren't typing. Ha ha ha! The writing bug has begun methinks. I'm not entirely sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing but we shall see. Tomorrow I think will be a day of casual relaxation. By that I mean Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly and possible a movie of some sorts. And some nice brainstorming!

Talking again about film, one of the most creative movies I have watched recently would have to be Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind. It is difficult to describe ever feature I love about this film but lets just say: If I wanted that perfect love story, this would be it. There is absolutely nothing that isn't romantic about having your memory erased in a fit of anger and then realizing, during the erasing of you're partners mind all the beautiful moments that occurred between you in the space of two years. I am aware of how little sense that will make but it has been a wonderful three days. Artwise, life is brilliant.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.

And so a life will end...

I thought I would share this wonderful franchise with the rest of the world. All my life I have lived with the Harry Potter Series. It has done so many things for me, as part of my childhood. For one it inspired me to write and appreciate film. Thank you Goblet of Fire. But mostly I just love the story. How can someone not appreciate that?

My thoughts on the final movie The Deathly Hallows being split into two are quite positive. I think we the lack of information presented in the fifth and sixth two parts are needed to explain everything. The hidden Horcruxes, Snape's relationship with Lily Potter, other secrets behind Dumbledore and then the beautiful relationships between Harry, Ron and Hermione. And of course we can't forget the fantastic fight scene at the end!

November 19th, you better come fast!

Addictive blogging? Are you crazy?

It is sad to say I have begun my plot brainstorming (last night in fact) but have well...given up for the time being. NO MATTER! Quoting Harry Potter there, if no one noticed. Of course you didn't. No one reads this, what am I talking about?

Chapter One
A Thousand Paper Birds

Aaaah, sweet chapter titles. So relaxing. Well the good thing about my plot is that it will be an exciting first chapter where my antagonist will again appear. Lots of antagonistic action will be needed in my new epic novel I think. Antagonistic? Not sure if that's the right word to use in this context but oh well.

Happy Brainstorming, says I.

A battle through yada yada yada, The End

I have thought of a Series title for my new project. The Everdark Trilogy. Sounds pretty nifty, eh? Well, I think so and that's the important thing. Now all I have to do is brainstorm a basic plot. This helps a lot, what with me attempting to write what could have been called a prologue, but was really me just writing a page of words (well, typing) that seemed fitting. I may change it though. I need to introduce my characters' names for a start. All I have is "the larger man" and "the smaller man." I need strong, BOLD names for these two misfits. Oh, yes, should mention that the prologue is based around my two antagonists. Well one really, the other is much more minor and...I'm not making a whole lot of sense am I?

Cartya and Cardya are twins. One boy and one girl. Cardya is the oldest and hmm...less human than Cartya. I think Cartya is going to be my protagonist, and my hero. Modest, timid and fabulous fashion sense. The world can totally see why she is "my" protagonist, cough, cough. Excuse me I'm clearing my throat of sarcasm.

Holidays are here. Why am I not excited? It's as though instead of basking in joy I'm falling, slowly...or maybe I'm floating in space. I'm absent of thought. I'm lost again. I don't know why I feel this way. I'm sort of just going along with it. Perhaps my new characters will tell me.

Demon/human/angel warriors fight against Cain in my new epic novel...

Trying to put aside the gloomy mood I've been prone to of late...while casually skimming through the Skulduggery Pleasant Site I came upon what I thought was a game - it actually turned out to be a recruitment agency that signed up new munchkins. I can honestly say I was intrigued. This led to creating a character to be a part of this Munchkin Army who ended up looking rather...bad ass. And in my artistic mood, with the help of some melancholy music, Cartya was created. The decendent of the Takara family, an ancient line of Takya warriors, Cartya is part demon, part human, part angel. She has retractable fangs (demon trait), a conscience (human trait), and is unusually skilled in incantations and spells (angel trait). Takya warriors look basically human. Some have more noticeable traits such as complete black eyes, wings or weirdly shaped feet. Some more demon-like warriors may even have black blood.

I would like to add that this was created within the space of an hour, I actually feel quite proud.

Anyway, Cartya is likely to face many death defying adventures and awkward romances because at this very moment I have a great urge to begin writing her story. So far I have written a basic description of her kind. Name searching is great fun! (Names) I have also written a family tree based on the Takara family. Cartya has a brother named Cardya. From great Mormon traditions (inspired by Stepehenie Meyer, eh...) Takya name their children based on the two parents names. For example: Cartya and Cardya's parents are Cadan and Atsuya. Make sense?

Anyway, no plot posting from me. I haven't succeeded that far and even if I had, no one will know about it just yet. Copyright fears.

DONT TOUCH MY STUFF

"Commonality is infectious, I'm getting out while I still can."

There is an empty space lurking somewhere behind my frontal lobe. I don't know how it came to be, but I am positive it is there. How could I feel so empty if it wasn't? Why would I be writing this if I knew I was complete?

I like to tell myself I live by a personal quote. But really, I know I have no direction. I have said so myself. I go with the flow. What flow? I am against all stereotypes, I am against being normal. I tell myself I am different but now I find myself questioning it. 'Am I different? Am I really? Can I say that in comparison to everyone in this world of ours, am I totally unique?' I don't know the answers to those questions just yet. I'm wondering if I ever will.

Sometimes I feel like crying even when there isn't anything to cry about. I curl into myself and try to pray, but I don't really know what that means. I'm not religious, but I believe in a heaven and a hell. I believe in guilt and sin and corruption. But it isn't in those religious things I find any comfort. The only comfort I find in them is knowing that yes, the world is going to end and yes, we are all going to die some day. Revelations are true. If there is such a thing as sin is there such a thing as forgiveness? I don't think so. There ends my religious beliefs. I'm with Sarah. 'We are all sons of bitches.'

I don't want to mope and wonder where it all went wrong. If I did that I would be common and like every other being in those fictional stories. Isn't that what heroes do? Don't they sit around after they make a mistake and wonder how the hell it happened? Or is that just the fate of all mankind?

I don't know, I'm not one for placing judgment on others. I'm just sitting here, writing this, pouring my heart out for the world to read it. I can't have a diary any more. It hurts to read it. But I can say this:

"Commonality is infectious, I'm getting out while I still can."