“Wh-What?! Does that mean I’m going to..!” Alice’s eyes widened in horror as her hand went up to the throat she had swallowed it with.
“Oh, great job, Handle. Now she’s scared. Is there any way that we can find out what the side effects are?”
“You can try looking on the back of the label.”
The rabbit walked up to the table and reached up as high as he could until Alice gave him the bottle. He then proceeded to examine the back of it. What followed it surprised not only Alice but Handle as well. The rabbit went into a terrible hissy fit hopping up and down, his cute face scrunched in a frustrated expression, while he growled curse words that would be rather improper to write.
“I can’t believe this!” he growled, “Now we are even in a worse situation then we were in before!!” He pulled his ears so hard Alice nearly thought he was going to tear them off.
Concerned Alice asked, “What does it say, Mr. Rabbit?”
“It says, THIS POTION IS NOT MEANT FOR OUTSIDERS. IF CONUMED BY ONE YOU MUST GO TO SEEK CATERPILLER FOR THEY WILL NOT BE ABLE TO RETURN TO THEIR WORLD WITHOUT THE REMEDY.”
“HA HA HA!” Handle grinned, “Looks like you will stuck with the girl after all, Mr. White.”
“Shut up, you piece of scrap metal. It was your fault that I’m in this mess.” The rabbit replied crossly.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
FINALE….I think that’s how you spell it
Oh my God! Like OMG! Its the end of the year (well school year). And you know what that means...Finals! Yeah!...wait what am I doing...Finals aren't good! BOOOO!! I have to do two essays and then a singing sort a solo group thing for choir...But I guess I don't really have any right to complain since I know a lot of other people have much more work to do than that. ANYWAYS……Lets start the actual blog shall we?
I don't really consider blogging to be really work anyway. Blogging is almost like a…no is a trash can to dump whatever junk you have in your head; whether it be short stories, political debates, religion, environmental stuff, etc. It’s a very useful tool to vent your anger out on (though I don’t really recommend becoming violent with your computer cause you do still need afterwards). Ultimately I’ve surprised even myself over this blogging year. For one thing I have increased my typing speed considerably since the very beginning of the first quarter; I’m no longer using my fingers like chop sticks. I’ve tried new ways of how to deal with my writer’s block (some successful some not). And I have also accomplished my goal of writing at least a paragraph each week. This was a goal (along with several others that I still haven’t done quite yet) I had given myself at the beginning of the year that I thought would be helpful in the future and I was proven right. I can better describe what think on the screen and can now relate to how I feel at the present time which has been proven useful as I have been writing my blogs.
My writing style I have noticed has changed over the course of not only this semester but over the entire year. Before I would start with one idea then I would drop it right in the middle in favor of something else. The overall maturity has changed drastically as well (not just the fact that I use A LOT more cuss words then I used to). Before when I first started to blog I was almost timid in my writing because I didn't really know what to say. But after a while I a realized that it wasn't about what other people thought about my writing it was about me and my talents that should come across the screen. Hey a writer’s got to do what a writer’s got to do, even if it means disappointing the people who are reading the stories. And even though I still am not even close to being published I still hope that I will continue growing so I can reach my goals.
Speaking about how I write what I have been reading over the past year has probably had some effect on it (not to mention a lot of other things). John Dies at the End probably has been most effective on me as far the cussing goes.
This book is full of nonsense monsters and bloody #%<5$! Oh yeah, the proof is on frickin' page 152 'We did a search at the local library and found a story from a few years before where a man had died after getting his penis caught in a mole trap he was working on. He bled to death. We told his ghost that it wasn't his house anymore and he had to leave. He didn't react to us until after a few hours’ worth of badgering and he vanished. No more stained carpet.’ I laughed pretty hard when I read that little tid bit. Anyway this book really does remind me of something that I would see on the SyFy channel. And considering the fact that they are now making a movie out of it there will probability be a lot of those people not that there is anything wrong with that.
If I saw some ghost with his #$%^ stuck in a mole trap I would be running away and cussing at the same time. I still can’t believe I read that book. Oh. And then there is Outlander. Gosh I can’t believe my mom actually reads stuff like this. Well I suppose it’s not so hard to believe considering that her friends are pretty much head over heels in the clouds (middle aged romance types).
Without blinking he drew up a chair and sat down across from me, lounging casually one booted foot resting on the opposite knee. A riding crop dangled from one fine, aristocratic hand. I watched the braided tip, black and scarlet, as it swung back and forth over the carpet.
“The idea has its attractions,” he said, watching my eyes follow the sweep of the whip. “But I could probably think of something better, given a few moments to collect myself.”
This quote just hit the nail on the head for me because it reminded me that there are people that do enjoy the pain of others. It isn’t fiction even as he speck there is probably some women getting beaten by her husband or worse. And that is just an example. It could be a child being abused by his or her parents or perhaps it’s outside of the family and there is nothing they can do about it. Books like Outlander influence me on an emotional level which I try to show in my writings (in moderation of course). Although without the sex scenes it was relatively a nice quick read. Whenever someone comments on my writing style they either say it’s very animated, detailed or both which I suppose is good but what I really want to know is if I really have a chance of going somewhere with it. The detailed part probably comes from all that Jane Austen reading and then there is more modern books like Twilight and Artemis Fowl.
All in all this was a very…eventful year. I will continue to blog when I can which in other words means most defiantly. See Yah!
I don't really consider blogging to be really work anyway. Blogging is almost like a…no is a trash can to dump whatever junk you have in your head; whether it be short stories, political debates, religion, environmental stuff, etc. It’s a very useful tool to vent your anger out on (though I don’t really recommend becoming violent with your computer cause you do still need afterwards). Ultimately I’ve surprised even myself over this blogging year. For one thing I have increased my typing speed considerably since the very beginning of the first quarter; I’m no longer using my fingers like chop sticks. I’ve tried new ways of how to deal with my writer’s block (some successful some not). And I have also accomplished my goal of writing at least a paragraph each week. This was a goal (along with several others that I still haven’t done quite yet) I had given myself at the beginning of the year that I thought would be helpful in the future and I was proven right. I can better describe what think on the screen and can now relate to how I feel at the present time which has been proven useful as I have been writing my blogs.
My writing style I have noticed has changed over the course of not only this semester but over the entire year. Before I would start with one idea then I would drop it right in the middle in favor of something else. The overall maturity has changed drastically as well (not just the fact that I use A LOT more cuss words then I used to). Before when I first started to blog I was almost timid in my writing because I didn't really know what to say. But after a while I a realized that it wasn't about what other people thought about my writing it was about me and my talents that should come across the screen. Hey a writer’s got to do what a writer’s got to do, even if it means disappointing the people who are reading the stories. And even though I still am not even close to being published I still hope that I will continue growing so I can reach my goals.
Speaking about how I write what I have been reading over the past year has probably had some effect on it (not to mention a lot of other things). John Dies at the End probably has been most effective on me as far the cussing goes.
This book is full of nonsense monsters and bloody #%<5$! Oh yeah, the proof is on frickin' page 152 'We did a search at the local library and found a story from a few years before where a man had died after getting his penis caught in a mole trap he was working on. He bled to death. We told his ghost that it wasn't his house anymore and he had to leave. He didn't react to us until after a few hours’ worth of badgering and he vanished. No more stained carpet.’ I laughed pretty hard when I read that little tid bit. Anyway this book really does remind me of something that I would see on the SyFy channel. And considering the fact that they are now making a movie out of it there will probability be a lot of those people not that there is anything wrong with that.
If I saw some ghost with his #$%^ stuck in a mole trap I would be running away and cussing at the same time. I still can’t believe I read that book. Oh. And then there is Outlander. Gosh I can’t believe my mom actually reads stuff like this. Well I suppose it’s not so hard to believe considering that her friends are pretty much head over heels in the clouds (middle aged romance types).
Without blinking he drew up a chair and sat down across from me, lounging casually one booted foot resting on the opposite knee. A riding crop dangled from one fine, aristocratic hand. I watched the braided tip, black and scarlet, as it swung back and forth over the carpet.
“The idea has its attractions,” he said, watching my eyes follow the sweep of the whip. “But I could probably think of something better, given a few moments to collect myself.”
This quote just hit the nail on the head for me because it reminded me that there are people that do enjoy the pain of others. It isn’t fiction even as he speck there is probably some women getting beaten by her husband or worse. And that is just an example. It could be a child being abused by his or her parents or perhaps it’s outside of the family and there is nothing they can do about it. Books like Outlander influence me on an emotional level which I try to show in my writings (in moderation of course). Although without the sex scenes it was relatively a nice quick read. Whenever someone comments on my writing style they either say it’s very animated, detailed or both which I suppose is good but what I really want to know is if I really have a chance of going somewhere with it. The detailed part probably comes from all that Jane Austen reading and then there is more modern books like Twilight and Artemis Fowl.
All in all this was a very…eventful year. I will continue to blog when I can which in other words means most defiantly. See Yah!
Friday, May 28, 2010
The FINAL (da da dah dah!)
This introduction paragraph is to all those lazy readers who won’t even bother to move their own damn mouse (computer ones that is). Diana Gabaldon's Outlander novel begins in the year 1945 when Claire Randall, British World War 2 combat nurse, is on vacation in Scotland with her husband Frank Randall They are on a second honeymoon to rekindle their relationship after being separated for the past six years due to the war. While Claire is looking at some plant species near a stone structure similar to Stonehenge she starts to hear a loud buzzing sound and finds herself in the year 1743!
Claire runs into a sadistic (& when say I sadist I mean like…really a pervert) British soldier, Jack Randall who she later discovers is an ancestor of her husband, Frank. Claire is rescued by a group of Highlanders who she gets to know over the course of a few months. The British are convinced that Claire is a spy and they insist that she be turned over to them for questioning. The Scottish clan give Claire the option of marrying one of them in order to gain the clan's protection and not be turned over to Jack Randall. Quite reluctantly, she marries a younger man named, James Fraser, in the same church she and Frank had been married in (now that’s just weird). The story goes on from there with how Claire must deal with her awakening belongings for Jamie and the urge to get back to her own time and true husband; and with a few attempted rape scenes here and there, witch trials, and cussing Scots thrown in the mix. Well that’s about it in a nut shell…
It’s kind of hard to classify Outlander in one specific genre, it’s seems to be in a lot more than just two; romance, fantasy, historical fiction, and science fiction (and let’s not forget all that yummy porn)!!!! I suppose the closest thing I’ve have ever read that is even remotely close to this little piece of work would probably be The Host by Stephanie Meyer. Minus the sex scenes Stephanie’s little take on total alien domination of our dear planet was the first thing that popped into my head. The second was the Other Boleyn Girl; which didn’t have anything magical besides the fact that it gave me dreams about kicking that stupid King between his @$6*76% LEGS for killing Anne and hurting Mary and of course his own frickin’ wife! Back on topic, I think the two reminded me of each other because in the Host the main character is an alien named Wanderer one out of many aliens had taken over earth after slowly worming (quite literally) into our minds to take us over. But this particular human, Melanie, won’t disappear like the rest of them and the two soon meet Melanie’s lover, Josh. And because she shares her hosts feeling’s, Wanderer begins to like him, too. All the while knowing that they can never be together. Plus her host is watching too because even though she has no control of her body, Melanie can still sense what Wanderer is feeling and doing.
I think this situation was similar to what Claire was feeling when she was with Jamie. She feels like she could belong with Jamie but knows she doesn’t. She is already married to Frank and Jamie is from a completely different time period then her. She feels torn between her love and duty to return to Frank in the future or to stay with Jamie who already holds a part of her heart. Then there is the thing with Black Jack Randall who looks exactly like his descendant Frank (creepy).
Now that we are on the subject of that pervert let me say a few words. I LOATH BLACK JACK RANDALL! I first met Black Jack when he accused Claire of being a prostitute and tried to do some ungentlemanly things to her. The next time the two meet alone he nearly rapes her if not for the gallant rescue of her fake husband Jamie. Later we see him again torturing Jamie then being cursed by Claire in all her witchiness. Frank must have not received the sadist genes or Claire probably wouldn’t have married him in the first place. I feel sorry for Jack’s wife because he’s a total you-know-what! It’s funny how Diana describes him especially when he was in his office.
Without blinking he drew up a chair and sat down across from me, lounging casually one booted foot resting on the opposite knee. A riding crop dangled from one fine, aristocratic hand. I watched the braided tip, black and scarlet, as it swung back and forth over the carpet.
“The idea has its attractions,” he said, watching my eyes follow the sweep of the whip. “But I could probably think of something better, given a few moments to collect myself.”
When I read this I was like ‘Claire you better get your butt out of there or your dead meat sister.” This quote alone could tell you that he would love to just hurt somebody just to see them scream. And unfortunately this is a common trait in human nature many suppress it while others it is more visible and they and the people that know them get hurt. Then there is the more extreme kind which include the rapist, serial killers, child molesters, etc who can’t or just let their emotions make decisions that leave reason behind. This category is what Jack is under. He makes a pretty unlikeable antagonist because well… there really isn’t anything to like about him besides his looks. His personality sucks big time and he does the most of the vilest crimes a person can commit.
Well Outlander was relatively a very good book Gabaldon is a fabulous writer. I would defiantly recommend this book to someone though I will say this:
WARNING UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD YOU LET ANY PERSON UNDER THE AGE OF EIGHTEEN READ THIS BOOK!
Claire runs into a sadistic (& when say I sadist I mean like…really a pervert) British soldier, Jack Randall who she later discovers is an ancestor of her husband, Frank. Claire is rescued by a group of Highlanders who she gets to know over the course of a few months. The British are convinced that Claire is a spy and they insist that she be turned over to them for questioning. The Scottish clan give Claire the option of marrying one of them in order to gain the clan's protection and not be turned over to Jack Randall. Quite reluctantly, she marries a younger man named, James Fraser, in the same church she and Frank had been married in (now that’s just weird). The story goes on from there with how Claire must deal with her awakening belongings for Jamie and the urge to get back to her own time and true husband; and with a few attempted rape scenes here and there, witch trials, and cussing Scots thrown in the mix. Well that’s about it in a nut shell…
It’s kind of hard to classify Outlander in one specific genre, it’s seems to be in a lot more than just two; romance, fantasy, historical fiction, and science fiction (and let’s not forget all that yummy porn)!!!! I suppose the closest thing I’ve have ever read that is even remotely close to this little piece of work would probably be The Host by Stephanie Meyer. Minus the sex scenes Stephanie’s little take on total alien domination of our dear planet was the first thing that popped into my head. The second was the Other Boleyn Girl; which didn’t have anything magical besides the fact that it gave me dreams about kicking that stupid King between his @$6*76% LEGS for killing Anne and hurting Mary and of course his own frickin’ wife! Back on topic, I think the two reminded me of each other because in the Host the main character is an alien named Wanderer one out of many aliens had taken over earth after slowly worming (quite literally) into our minds to take us over. But this particular human, Melanie, won’t disappear like the rest of them and the two soon meet Melanie’s lover, Josh. And because she shares her hosts feeling’s, Wanderer begins to like him, too. All the while knowing that they can never be together. Plus her host is watching too because even though she has no control of her body, Melanie can still sense what Wanderer is feeling and doing.
I think this situation was similar to what Claire was feeling when she was with Jamie. She feels like she could belong with Jamie but knows she doesn’t. She is already married to Frank and Jamie is from a completely different time period then her. She feels torn between her love and duty to return to Frank in the future or to stay with Jamie who already holds a part of her heart. Then there is the thing with Black Jack Randall who looks exactly like his descendant Frank (creepy).
Now that we are on the subject of that pervert let me say a few words. I LOATH BLACK JACK RANDALL! I first met Black Jack when he accused Claire of being a prostitute and tried to do some ungentlemanly things to her. The next time the two meet alone he nearly rapes her if not for the gallant rescue of her fake husband Jamie. Later we see him again torturing Jamie then being cursed by Claire in all her witchiness. Frank must have not received the sadist genes or Claire probably wouldn’t have married him in the first place. I feel sorry for Jack’s wife because he’s a total you-know-what! It’s funny how Diana describes him especially when he was in his office.
Without blinking he drew up a chair and sat down across from me, lounging casually one booted foot resting on the opposite knee. A riding crop dangled from one fine, aristocratic hand. I watched the braided tip, black and scarlet, as it swung back and forth over the carpet.
“The idea has its attractions,” he said, watching my eyes follow the sweep of the whip. “But I could probably think of something better, given a few moments to collect myself.”
When I read this I was like ‘Claire you better get your butt out of there or your dead meat sister.” This quote alone could tell you that he would love to just hurt somebody just to see them scream. And unfortunately this is a common trait in human nature many suppress it while others it is more visible and they and the people that know them get hurt. Then there is the more extreme kind which include the rapist, serial killers, child molesters, etc who can’t or just let their emotions make decisions that leave reason behind. This category is what Jack is under. He makes a pretty unlikeable antagonist because well… there really isn’t anything to like about him besides his looks. His personality sucks big time and he does the most of the vilest crimes a person can commit.
Well Outlander was relatively a very good book Gabaldon is a fabulous writer. I would defiantly recommend this book to someone though I will say this:
WARNING UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD YOU LET ANY PERSON UNDER THE AGE OF EIGHTEEN READ THIS BOOK!
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Wonderland chap 1 part 5
“That’s not right Mr. White. Nothing is impossible. It is just hard to fathom how the young lady came to be here.”
“Shut up, Handle! I’m not in the mood.” Alice searched everywhere for the third party who owned the voice that seemed to come out of nowhere until she finally noticed to whom the rabbit was speaking. Just in the middle of the double doors was a large golden handle which appeared to have a face of sorts. The large plate sized rubies acted as eyes while the gold ring that hung by two big bolts served as a mouth; when it spoke the metal of its gold ring bended as if it was the lips of a human.
“I mean do you realize what the queen will do if she finds out a human is here?” The rabbit pointed to Alice as if there was something incredibly wrong with her.
“Yes, Mr. White I very well aware of what she will do but what if we just send her back. And then the queen will never know.”
“Yes, that would probably be best. I mean there is no sense in killing her when there is no gain in it?”
“What! Kill!?” Alice stepped back quickly. She could hear her heart speeding up.
“Oh don’t worry we won’t hurt you, my dear, we are just the same as you. We just wish to get you home as quickly and as comfortable as possible.” The handle called Handle sounded calm but that only made Alice more frightened.
“Well let’s not waste anymore time, shall we?” The rabbit said as he glanced at his watch before again turning to Handle. “Now how do you propose to get the girl out of here?” He asked scornfully.
“It’s quite simple really; all you have to do is have her drink the teleportation potion on the table.”
“But there is no table in this room.”Alice said.
“Yes there is there is one beside you.”
When Alice looked next to her she saw to her surprise that he was right. Where there was once open space there became the appearance of a delicate little table. In the center there was a small glass vile that Alice immediately compared to the ones in her father’s study. Picking it up she read the tiny note attached to a white ribbon that said TELEPORTATION POTION.
“Now all you have to do is drink that and envision the place you wish to go.”
Since the bottle wasn’t marked poison, Alice thought to herself, most likely it would do me no harm in drinking it, which probably meant I would be able to go home. Maybe this was a silly idea to follow a mysterious rabbit down a hole. It would be best to go home.
Trying not to think of her awaiting sister, Alice envisioned a more agreeable scene of her and Dinah reading by the fire in the family study. Keeping the thought in her head she took the little cork off the nozzle of the bottle and put it to her lips. As she drank Alice wondered at how good it tasted. It tastes so sweet she thought, like cherries.
When she drank the last drop she set it back on the table and waited. Nothing happened.
“Why is she still here Handle?! Why didn’t the potion work?!” The rabbit turned furiously at the door.
Handle seemed to be quite baffled himself.
“I’m not sure. It has always worked when ever…WAIT! Girl what did that potion taste like?”
“Umm well it was very sweet it reminded me very much of cherry tart.”
“Oh no it was the wrong one!”
“What do you mean it was the wrong one?! HOW CAN YOU HAVE MISTAKEN IT FOR A TELEPORTATION POTION!?” The rabbit seemed to be very distressed now.
“It’s not that it is not a TELEPORTAION POTION what is wrong is that one is not meant for humans.”
“What do you mean not meant for humans?” Alice said hesitantly.
“It means that there could be side effects such as sickness or it could be fatal.” Handle said solemnly.
“Shut up, Handle! I’m not in the mood.” Alice searched everywhere for the third party who owned the voice that seemed to come out of nowhere until she finally noticed to whom the rabbit was speaking. Just in the middle of the double doors was a large golden handle which appeared to have a face of sorts. The large plate sized rubies acted as eyes while the gold ring that hung by two big bolts served as a mouth; when it spoke the metal of its gold ring bended as if it was the lips of a human.
“I mean do you realize what the queen will do if she finds out a human is here?” The rabbit pointed to Alice as if there was something incredibly wrong with her.
“Yes, Mr. White I very well aware of what she will do but what if we just send her back. And then the queen will never know.”
“Yes, that would probably be best. I mean there is no sense in killing her when there is no gain in it?”
“What! Kill!?” Alice stepped back quickly. She could hear her heart speeding up.
“Oh don’t worry we won’t hurt you, my dear, we are just the same as you. We just wish to get you home as quickly and as comfortable as possible.” The handle called Handle sounded calm but that only made Alice more frightened.
“Well let’s not waste anymore time, shall we?” The rabbit said as he glanced at his watch before again turning to Handle. “Now how do you propose to get the girl out of here?” He asked scornfully.
“It’s quite simple really; all you have to do is have her drink the teleportation potion on the table.”
“But there is no table in this room.”Alice said.
“Yes there is there is one beside you.”
When Alice looked next to her she saw to her surprise that he was right. Where there was once open space there became the appearance of a delicate little table. In the center there was a small glass vile that Alice immediately compared to the ones in her father’s study. Picking it up she read the tiny note attached to a white ribbon that said TELEPORTATION POTION.
“Now all you have to do is drink that and envision the place you wish to go.”
Since the bottle wasn’t marked poison, Alice thought to herself, most likely it would do me no harm in drinking it, which probably meant I would be able to go home. Maybe this was a silly idea to follow a mysterious rabbit down a hole. It would be best to go home.
Trying not to think of her awaiting sister, Alice envisioned a more agreeable scene of her and Dinah reading by the fire in the family study. Keeping the thought in her head she took the little cork off the nozzle of the bottle and put it to her lips. As she drank Alice wondered at how good it tasted. It tastes so sweet she thought, like cherries.
When she drank the last drop she set it back on the table and waited. Nothing happened.
“Why is she still here Handle?! Why didn’t the potion work?!” The rabbit turned furiously at the door.
Handle seemed to be quite baffled himself.
“I’m not sure. It has always worked when ever…WAIT! Girl what did that potion taste like?”
“Umm well it was very sweet it reminded me very much of cherry tart.”
“Oh no it was the wrong one!”
“What do you mean it was the wrong one?! HOW CAN YOU HAVE MISTAKEN IT FOR A TELEPORTATION POTION!?” The rabbit seemed to be very distressed now.
“It’s not that it is not a TELEPORTAION POTION what is wrong is that one is not meant for humans.”
“What do you mean not meant for humans?” Alice said hesitantly.
“It means that there could be side effects such as sickness or it could be fatal.” Handle said solemnly.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Outlander Double Standard Quotes
Its your own fault, for ignoring me and suspecting me all the time! I told you there was no danger in my going with you, but would you listen to me? No! I'm only a woman, why should you pay any attention to what I say?.....
I think you did it on purpose, to get back at me for what happened in the glade!
In the glade?
Aye! Ye think I should ha' been able to protect ye there, an' you're right. But I couldna do it; you had to do it yourself, and now tryin' to make me pay for it by deliberately putting yourself, my wife, in the hands of a man that's shed my blood!
Your wife! Your wife! You don't care a thing about me! I'm just your property; it only matters to you because you think I belong to you, and you can't stand to have someone take something that belongs to you!
Ye do belong to me!
UUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!I just want to punch something right now. There are two topics that really gets me angry and they are: rape and gender discrimination. Now these are not the only ones but they definitely make the top ten list for me. When a girl or even a boy is raped (it is possible people) THEY ARE NOT ASKING FOR IT!!!!! Every time I hear some jack ass say 'Oh they were just asking for it' or 'Their clothes implied it' I want to just punch them. Do you people even know that rape is a frickin' crime?! Its a forced assault on another person without their consent! How would you like it if you were tied up, beaten, then sexually VIOLATED! All the while thinking: This can't be happening! Am I going to live through this? Are he going to kill me?
I think you did it on purpose, to get back at me for what happened in the glade!
In the glade?
Aye! Ye think I should ha' been able to protect ye there, an' you're right. But I couldna do it; you had to do it yourself, and now tryin' to make me pay for it by deliberately putting yourself, my wife, in the hands of a man that's shed my blood!
Your wife! Your wife! You don't care a thing about me! I'm just your property; it only matters to you because you think I belong to you, and you can't stand to have someone take something that belongs to you!
Ye do belong to me!
UUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!I just want to punch something right now. There are two topics that really gets me angry and they are: rape and gender discrimination. Now these are not the only ones but they definitely make the top ten list for me. When a girl or even a boy is raped (it is possible people) THEY ARE NOT ASKING FOR IT!!!!! Every time I hear some jack ass say 'Oh they were just asking for it' or 'Their clothes implied it' I want to just punch them. Do you people even know that rape is a frickin' crime?! Its a forced assault on another person without their consent! How would you like it if you were tied up, beaten, then sexually VIOLATED! All the while thinking: This can't be happening! Am I going to live through this? Are he going to kill me?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
What "Good Girl's & Boys" Shouldn't Do on a Date
The term 'good girl' or 'good boy ' would refer to people who follow the rules of whatever society tells them to follow. But over time changes society so naturally rules change as well. For example a 'good couple of high school students in the fifties' were expected to go on formal dates, meet on formal occasions with each other's parents, and to never do anything that would shame their families name(in other words sex). But now a days people are much more open about there relationships (thanks to the sixties) and it isn't unusual to see a few pages of a teen magazine having teens written conversations about their sex lives with their boy friends.
Probably one of the most common things talked about in these magazines are how girls are scared that their boy friends will leave them for some other girl. Or even worse two timing the both of them by cheating. When some one says that they are going to commit to a relationship with someone they always have to give and expect to receive two important requirements: honesty and respect.If the other party cannot count on the other to be honest than the relationship will most likely fall apart because they will think you have no respect for them. I essential to be honest at the beginning of the relationship because you can’t start based on lies or half truths. Obviously you’ll be caught at some point.
Okay before I go any farther I just want to say that it feels really weird writing about all of this relationship stuff. I sound like one of those overly confident love critics or dating advice people who think that love is just some badly written story.
Alrighty then back on to...So where did these rules originate? How did society make these unwritten rules? Well one of the main answers is religion. As far back to when the human race began to record their history women and men have always had a clear line drawn between them. Men were the hunters, ‘he bread winners’ so to speak, and warriors. While women were expected to stay at home and tend to the childeren. These ideas of women and men are still seen today and enforced in many countries.
Probably one of the most common things talked about in these magazines are how girls are scared that their boy friends will leave them for some other girl. Or even worse two timing the both of them by cheating. When some one says that they are going to commit to a relationship with someone they always have to give and expect to receive two important requirements: honesty and respect.If the other party cannot count on the other to be honest than the relationship will most likely fall apart because they will think you have no respect for them. I essential to be honest at the beginning of the relationship because you can’t start based on lies or half truths. Obviously you’ll be caught at some point.
Okay before I go any farther I just want to say that it feels really weird writing about all of this relationship stuff. I sound like one of those overly confident love critics or dating advice people who think that love is just some badly written story.
Alrighty then back on to...So where did these rules originate? How did society make these unwritten rules? Well one of the main answers is religion. As far back to when the human race began to record their history women and men have always had a clear line drawn between them. Men were the hunters, ‘he bread winners’ so to speak, and warriors. While women were expected to stay at home and tend to the childeren. These ideas of women and men are still seen today and enforced in many countries.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Wonderland chap 1 part 4
At first all Alice saw was complete darkness, she couldn’t even see her outstretched hands that were only a few inches away from her eyes. Then she felt something cool, thin, and distinctly metal like which, as she felt it up, found it was a chain. When she tugged there was a distinct click in which she could suddenly see everything around her. Lamps of all different shapes, sizes, and colors floated around her as she made her slow descent. Some floated on their own while others stood on little coffee tables or stools. There were also several cupboards and book shelves lining the walls they to floated randomly about the tunnels space.
Still not being able to subdue her curiosity Alice reached into one of the passing cupboards and took out a dusty little glass jar. Dusting it off she read the words ORANGE MARMALADE which made her mouth salivate after half swallowing a mouthful of dirt. But to her great disappointment it contents were gone and she solemnly left the jar on a levitating table.
Some of the furniture often came into Alice’s path or bumped into her. Once an old creaking rocking chair came out from behind her and nearly sent her crashing into a round table laid with broken tea cups.
After a few moments passed Alice began to think why she had not reached the bottom and but then again, she thought was there a bottom? And why couldn’t she see the rabbit anywhere? Surely with all of these lights she would be able to see him below her? But all she was an endless tunnel of lights.
I wonder what Charlotte would say if I told her I fallen this long it must have been about five minutes at least. She’d probably think I’m so childish. No she’d probably put her no nonsense face on and won’t even give me a second thought.
All of a sudden Alice felt this strong pulling on her feet as if a pair of hands was tugging on her ankles. Alice was able to let out a little squeak before she was yanked so hard and fast she could only see the lights around her in a swirl together violently into a blended blur.
A cold hard surface met with her body with a loud thump which winded her for several moments. Well that was rather an abrupt ending, she thought. Looking up she saw she was in a rather large room, so large in fact that she couldn’t even see ceiling above her. When she finally got up she looked to her far right and white rabbit scamper towards a two large red doors.
“Oh there he is.”
As she got closer she began to hear the rabbit talking or what sounded like bickering. But when she looked about herself she couldn’t see anything besides the distant walls of the room, the doors, and the rabbit.
“Are you talking to yourself Mr. Rabbit?” Alice asked when she was nearly beside the little creature.
The rabbit whipped around so fast Alice barely had time to react.
“HOW IN THE QUEEN’S NAME DID YOU GET HERE?!!”
Alice blinked a little surprised that such a small animal could make so much noise. And she somehow managed to say her answer.
“Well I followed you down the hole you went through, that’s how. And might I add that it is a very long tunnel. Just how long exactly is it? And-”
“BUT HOW COULD YOU HAVE FOLLOWED ME! THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!” He started to pull his ears again and Alice started to get this urge to touch them. I wonder if they are soft.
Still not being able to subdue her curiosity Alice reached into one of the passing cupboards and took out a dusty little glass jar. Dusting it off she read the words ORANGE MARMALADE which made her mouth salivate after half swallowing a mouthful of dirt. But to her great disappointment it contents were gone and she solemnly left the jar on a levitating table.
Some of the furniture often came into Alice’s path or bumped into her. Once an old creaking rocking chair came out from behind her and nearly sent her crashing into a round table laid with broken tea cups.
After a few moments passed Alice began to think why she had not reached the bottom and but then again, she thought was there a bottom? And why couldn’t she see the rabbit anywhere? Surely with all of these lights she would be able to see him below her? But all she was an endless tunnel of lights.
I wonder what Charlotte would say if I told her I fallen this long it must have been about five minutes at least. She’d probably think I’m so childish. No she’d probably put her no nonsense face on and won’t even give me a second thought.
All of a sudden Alice felt this strong pulling on her feet as if a pair of hands was tugging on her ankles. Alice was able to let out a little squeak before she was yanked so hard and fast she could only see the lights around her in a swirl together violently into a blended blur.
A cold hard surface met with her body with a loud thump which winded her for several moments. Well that was rather an abrupt ending, she thought. Looking up she saw she was in a rather large room, so large in fact that she couldn’t even see ceiling above her. When she finally got up she looked to her far right and white rabbit scamper towards a two large red doors.
“Oh there he is.”
As she got closer she began to hear the rabbit talking or what sounded like bickering. But when she looked about herself she couldn’t see anything besides the distant walls of the room, the doors, and the rabbit.
“Are you talking to yourself Mr. Rabbit?” Alice asked when she was nearly beside the little creature.
The rabbit whipped around so fast Alice barely had time to react.
“HOW IN THE QUEEN’S NAME DID YOU GET HERE?!!”
Alice blinked a little surprised that such a small animal could make so much noise. And she somehow managed to say her answer.
“Well I followed you down the hole you went through, that’s how. And might I add that it is a very long tunnel. Just how long exactly is it? And-”
“BUT HOW COULD YOU HAVE FOLLOWED ME! THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!” He started to pull his ears again and Alice started to get this urge to touch them. I wonder if they are soft.
Outlander # 2 OMG Review
I take back what I said about this book not being trashy....well maybe not that but there are defiantly some adult reading in this book (warning to all nuns). Now I know what middle aged mom's do in there spare time; read stuff that reminds them of the glory days-sigh-but the way it happens I'm not exactly sure during the process I wouldn't stop laughing like bloody hell like I did while just READING about it! One particular part in the book caught my attention.
You barbarian! You...you sadist! I hissed furiously. You're doing this for your own pleasure! I'll never forgive you for this! Jamie paused, twisting the belt.
He replied levelly, I dinna know what's a sadist. And if I forgive you for this afternoon, I reckon you'll forgive me, too, as soon as ye can sit down again.
As for my pleasure... His lip twitched, I said I would have to punish you. I did not say I wasna going to enjoy it. He crooked a finger at me.
Come here.
Now someone could take this in so many directions some more towards PG rated and some... not so much. What I really like about Gabaldon is the way she keeps her audience interested throughout the story. And although it is a relatively fast read it isn't like she slacks off on every other page. After one problem seems to be solved she immediately leaps into the next one and yet they all tie together in the end.
Well I do envy Claire one thing although she already has a shitload of problems already, she's in Europe when the farthest I've traveled from home is Arizona(cry, tear,cry).
You barbarian! You...you sadist! I hissed furiously. You're doing this for your own pleasure! I'll never forgive you for this! Jamie paused, twisting the belt.
He replied levelly, I dinna know what's a sadist. And if I forgive you for this afternoon, I reckon you'll forgive me, too, as soon as ye can sit down again.
As for my pleasure... His lip twitched, I said I would have to punish you. I did not say I wasna going to enjoy it. He crooked a finger at me.
Come here.
Now someone could take this in so many directions some more towards PG rated and some... not so much. What I really like about Gabaldon is the way she keeps her audience interested throughout the story. And although it is a relatively fast read it isn't like she slacks off on every other page. After one problem seems to be solved she immediately leaps into the next one and yet they all tie together in the end.
Well I do envy Claire one thing although she already has a shitload of problems already, she's in Europe when the farthest I've traveled from home is Arizona(cry, tear,cry).
Friday, May 7, 2010
Wonderland chap 1 part 3
At first all Alice saw was complete darkness, she couldn’t even see her outstretched hands that were only a few inches away from her eyes. Then she felt something cool, thin, and distinctly metal like which, as she felt it up, found it was a chain. When she tugged there was a distinct click in which she could suddenly see everything around her. Lamps of all different shapes, sizes, and colors floated around her as she made her slow descent. Some floated on their own while others stood on little coffee tables or stools. There were also several cupboards and book shelves lining the walls they to floated randomly about the tunnels space.
Still not being able to subdue her curiosity Alice reached into one of the passing cupboards and took out a dusty little glass jar. Dusting it off she read the words ORANGE MARMALADE which made her mouth salivate after half swallowing a mouthful of dirt. But to her great disappointment it contents were gone and she solemnly left the jar on a levitating table.
Some of the furniture often came into Alice’s path or bumped into her. Once an old creaking rocking chair came out from behind her and nearly sent her crashing into a round table laid with broken tea cups.
After a few moments passed Alice began to think why she had not reached the bottom and but then again, she thought was there a bottom? And why couldn’t she see the rabbit anywhere? Surely with all of these lights she would be able to see him below her? But all she was an endless tunnel of lights.
I wonder what Charlotte would say if I told her I fallen this long it must have been about five minutes at least. She’d probably think I’m so childish. No she’d probably put her no nonsense face on and won’t even give me a second thought.
All of a sudden Alice felt this strong pulling on her feet as if a pair of hands was tugging on her ankles. Alice was able to let out a little squeak before she was yanked so hard and fast she could only see the lights around her in a blended blur.
A cold hard surface met with her body with a loud thump which winded her for several moments. Well that was rather an abrupt ending, she thought. Looking up she saw she was in a rather large room, so large in fact that she couldn’t even see ceiling above her. When she finally got up she looked to her far right and white rabbit scamper towards a two large red doors.
“Oh there he is.”
As she got closer she began to hear the rabbit talking or what sounded like bickering. But when she looked about herself she couldn’t see anything besides the distant walls of the room, the doors, and the rabbit.
“Are you talking to yourself Mr. Rabbit?” Alice asked when she was nearly beside the little creature.
The rabbit whipped around so fast Alice barely had time to react.
“HOW IN THE QUEEN’S NAME DID YOU GET HERE?!!”
Still not being able to subdue her curiosity Alice reached into one of the passing cupboards and took out a dusty little glass jar. Dusting it off she read the words ORANGE MARMALADE which made her mouth salivate after half swallowing a mouthful of dirt. But to her great disappointment it contents were gone and she solemnly left the jar on a levitating table.
Some of the furniture often came into Alice’s path or bumped into her. Once an old creaking rocking chair came out from behind her and nearly sent her crashing into a round table laid with broken tea cups.
After a few moments passed Alice began to think why she had not reached the bottom and but then again, she thought was there a bottom? And why couldn’t she see the rabbit anywhere? Surely with all of these lights she would be able to see him below her? But all she was an endless tunnel of lights.
I wonder what Charlotte would say if I told her I fallen this long it must have been about five minutes at least. She’d probably think I’m so childish. No she’d probably put her no nonsense face on and won’t even give me a second thought.
All of a sudden Alice felt this strong pulling on her feet as if a pair of hands was tugging on her ankles. Alice was able to let out a little squeak before she was yanked so hard and fast she could only see the lights around her in a blended blur.
A cold hard surface met with her body with a loud thump which winded her for several moments. Well that was rather an abrupt ending, she thought. Looking up she saw she was in a rather large room, so large in fact that she couldn’t even see ceiling above her. When she finally got up she looked to her far right and white rabbit scamper towards a two large red doors.
“Oh there he is.”
As she got closer she began to hear the rabbit talking or what sounded like bickering. But when she looked about herself she couldn’t see anything besides the distant walls of the room, the doors, and the rabbit.
“Are you talking to yourself Mr. Rabbit?” Alice asked when she was nearly beside the little creature.
The rabbit whipped around so fast Alice barely had time to react.
“HOW IN THE QUEEN’S NAME DID YOU GET HERE?!!”
Review of Outlander
So this week I had to find a book to read and I was rummaging through my mother's bookcase when I stumbled upon a beat up paper back book. Reading the back of its dusty surface I figured that it most likely wouldn't be like what my mother usually reads which include corny trashy romance novels you'd find at your local supermarket. As I began to read I became intrigued and without taking my nose out of the book I plopped down on the living room couch and began to read.
Outlander by Diana Gabaldon is about a young woman named Claire Randall, former combat nurse in World War 2, who walks through the standing stones of the famous Stonehenge in Scotland and is transported back in time to 1745! Taken place during the raids and wars of the Highland clans the novel is filled with entertaining plots and intense romantic scenes that well make your heart go Ba-dump, Ba-dump!
I would have thought the whole thing a fancy-dress show of some type, had it not been for the injuries of the young man they called Jamie. That wound had indeed been made by something very like a musket ball, judging from the evidence it left behind. The behavior of the men in the cottage was not consistent with any sort of play- acting, either. They were serious men, and the dirks and swords were real.
Could it be some secluded enclave, perhaps, where villagers reenacted part of their history periodically? I had heard of such things in Germany, though never in Scotland. You've also never heard of actors shooting each other with muskets, either, have you? jeered the uncomfortably rational part of my mind.
This quote just really spoke to me or should I shot me wink wink hint hint...never mind because it made me wonder how I would react to being sent back a few centuries without my consent. Rubs chin in thought, tries and fails to balance a pencil on the tip of nose. I would most likely be running around like hell, cussing and then fall in a dead faint...Yep that's my plan God I'm ready to go.
Outlander by Diana Gabaldon is about a young woman named Claire Randall, former combat nurse in World War 2, who walks through the standing stones of the famous Stonehenge in Scotland and is transported back in time to 1745! Taken place during the raids and wars of the Highland clans the novel is filled with entertaining plots and intense romantic scenes that well make your heart go Ba-dump, Ba-dump!
I would have thought the whole thing a fancy-dress show of some type, had it not been for the injuries of the young man they called Jamie. That wound had indeed been made by something very like a musket ball, judging from the evidence it left behind. The behavior of the men in the cottage was not consistent with any sort of play- acting, either. They were serious men, and the dirks and swords were real.
Could it be some secluded enclave, perhaps, where villagers reenacted part of their history periodically? I had heard of such things in Germany, though never in Scotland. You've also never heard of actors shooting each other with muskets, either, have you? jeered the uncomfortably rational part of my mind.
This quote just really spoke to me or should I shot me wink wink hint hint...never mind because it made me wonder how I would react to being sent back a few centuries without my consent. Rubs chin in thought, tries and fails to balance a pencil on the tip of nose. I would most likely be running around like hell, cussing and then fall in a dead faint...Yep that's my plan God I'm ready to go.
Friday, April 30, 2010
wonderland chap 1 part 2
The rabbit knocked on the oaks dark bark as she followed closely behind him. Occasionally speeding up suddenly so as to get away from the girl, who kept close at his heels.
“But I don’t have anything to do? And don’t you think it is rather rude to just dismiss a lady you just met without introducing yourself?”
“I do as a matter of fact think it is rude to not converse with a lady when we have been introduced formally by another acquaintance and are familiar with one another's back rounds. But since we are neither then I am inclined to not acknowledge your presence because it is not the way of a gentleman. Therefore I do not need to answer your questions or accusations.” He raised his little pink nose high in the air snobbishly.
That stumped Alice for a moment or two. It all seemed rather logical and since he did seem like the intelligent sort of fellow she couldn’t really object to his argument. So she tried something else.
“Well since I can’t seem to get an answer from you I suppose I shall have to follow you until I find out.”
“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME BE! I’m already in enough trouble as it is being late. But now I must deal with you!” He pulled his ears and started to stamp his feet on the grass. He reminded Alice of her younger cousin who always through temper tantrums when he didn’t what he wanted. Although her cousin would never wear a checkered red waistcoat with a blue bow tie, he would much rather wear simple breeches and a light tunic so he could get dirty quicker. But then again he wasn’t a rabbit either.
“Well if you just tell me where you going then I’ll be on my way?” Alice sat down on the soft grass so she could see eye to eye with the rabbit. “Or we could stay here until-”
She was interrupted when she felt a stone under her hand jerk and a then there was a loud popping sound. All of a sudden, in front of her, nestled at the bottom of the oak tree was a large rabbit hole. It was perfectly round not one of the blades of grass touch the edge of its darkness.
“Oh well thank you little lady! And I am almost in time!”Looking at his over sized gold pocket watch the rabbit twitched his nose and straightened his coat. To Alice he said over his shoulder. “I think I will be on my way now!” The rabbit turned to the hole and leaped into the darkness.
Alice didn’t even give it a second thought before she flung herself forward after him again.
“But I don’t have anything to do? And don’t you think it is rather rude to just dismiss a lady you just met without introducing yourself?”
“I do as a matter of fact think it is rude to not converse with a lady when we have been introduced formally by another acquaintance and are familiar with one another's back rounds. But since we are neither then I am inclined to not acknowledge your presence because it is not the way of a gentleman. Therefore I do not need to answer your questions or accusations.” He raised his little pink nose high in the air snobbishly.
That stumped Alice for a moment or two. It all seemed rather logical and since he did seem like the intelligent sort of fellow she couldn’t really object to his argument. So she tried something else.
“Well since I can’t seem to get an answer from you I suppose I shall have to follow you until I find out.”
“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME BE! I’m already in enough trouble as it is being late. But now I must deal with you!” He pulled his ears and started to stamp his feet on the grass. He reminded Alice of her younger cousin who always through temper tantrums when he didn’t what he wanted. Although her cousin would never wear a checkered red waistcoat with a blue bow tie, he would much rather wear simple breeches and a light tunic so he could get dirty quicker. But then again he wasn’t a rabbit either.
“Well if you just tell me where you going then I’ll be on my way?” Alice sat down on the soft grass so she could see eye to eye with the rabbit. “Or we could stay here until-”
She was interrupted when she felt a stone under her hand jerk and a then there was a loud popping sound. All of a sudden, in front of her, nestled at the bottom of the oak tree was a large rabbit hole. It was perfectly round not one of the blades of grass touch the edge of its darkness.
“Oh well thank you little lady! And I am almost in time!”Looking at his over sized gold pocket watch the rabbit twitched his nose and straightened his coat. To Alice he said over his shoulder. “I think I will be on my way now!” The rabbit turned to the hole and leaped into the darkness.
Alice didn’t even give it a second thought before she flung herself forward after him again.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
redo-Wonderland part 1 chap1
Falling
“Alice! Alice! Where are you! ALICE!!!!
Alice stayed silent and tried not to move or slip on the slippery mud where she half knelt-half hung on branches of a rose bush. Though it was rather difficult her flat black Mary Jane’s did not provide much grip on the slippery sludge and there was nothing for her to hold onto for support besides the prickly branches that shredded her hands like paper. She was almost slipped when one of her sister’s minions, Claudius came just a few feet from where she was hiding. Biting back a whimper as she grabbed a spiked branch, Alice once again pulled herself up. Once steady she looked back from behind the leaves to see Claudius conversing with Charlotte. Alice would rather have died then have been discovered by that blood sucking leech. If Claudius had been her sister Alice was pretty sure she would have become his personal slave or worse.
She had chosen well for her hiding place. The bush was actually two bunched together their trunks a few feet apart. There was a parting in between them at the bottom creating a hole of sorts in the thick leaves and branches. The inside of the bushes was a sort of cave with a spiky roof and walls. It would most likely This bush was one of her favorite hiding places when she wanted to be alone or in this case an escape from a boring lecture from her sister-tutor.
It wasn’t like Alice enjoyed disobeying her sister it was just that Charlotte could just get so bossy at times.
“Alice, stop fidgeting. And read your book.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that this book doesn’t make any sense to me?”
“Why? What is wrong with it?”
“Well there really isn’t anything wrong with it. It just doesn’t have any pictures in it.”
She then just brushed off Alice and said that she was a child and would soon understand that there was a great deal of books in the world without pictures.
And it had been that way ever since their parents had given Charlotte full control of the household while they were away to India a year ago. Alice did have to admit that Charlotte had always seemed to think that things always had to go her way but now it was worse. Now she was critiquing Alice on what she ate, what she said, what she did, even what she wore. Before Alice used to be able to walk comfortably in light dresses that were cut short and easy to move around in. But now she has to wear big frilly dresses with heavy petty coats that made her trip and stumble whenever she took so much as a step.
Today Alice had had enough and had changed early in the morning and slipped outside before her sister realized her escape. On her way she had snuck into the kitchen to steal a few rolls and cheese that she stuffed in her apron pocket. She had just reached the rose garden when she had heard the angry frantic calls of her sister.
Alice was beginning to get very tired of being crutched in the wet mud and was considering getting out and risking her sister’s fury when she heard a peculiar noise. Not peculiar in the sense to be alarmed but a sound that sparked Alice’s curiosity. It had come from the bushes behind her.
Gingerly avoiding the needle point thorns, Alice pushed the branches aside. Her mouth fell open as her eyes met a most peculiar sight; a rabbit standing not four feet away from her astonished face. He wore a bright red and black checkered waist, a pair of form fitting blue and black striped pants, a yellow collared shirt and a baby blue tie. His fur was short and a perfect shade of snow white from his paws to the tip of his long ears.
H e almost looked like a statue until he blinked his bright pink eyes and took out suddenly as if by magic an over sized gold pocket watch. As he flipped its lid open he wrinkled his little bewhiskered nose. Suddenly he cursed and dashed out of the bushes.
“Oh, Mr. RABBIT! PLEASE, WAIT!” Alice scrambled up and began to follow after him.
The maze was an elaborate construction of tall eight foot tall hedges that took up much of the Hamilton Estate that was a vast couple thousand acres. The only things that rivaled its size were that of the large lake that expanded on the right side of the manor and the rose garden which extended around the left and front side of the manor and all the way to where the main road to Manchester. When Alice was younger she used to believe that the ones who tended to the maze’s perfect structure were little green fairies that had little claws that were used as gardening clippers. It wasn’t till Alice was seven when she discovered a gardener cutting one of the outside hedges with a rather large pair of scissor looking clippers. Ever since then Alice has been noticing all of the gardeners coming every two days to cut the littlest green leaf. And of course Charlotte didn’t make any compromises as far as imperfections went. She personally took a walk every day to make sure not the smallest piece of greenery went astray. Alice also memorized this labyrinth from her early days of adventuring. Well sort of.
At the moment, Alice, in her excitement in catching the rabbit, let all of her previous experiences escape her and kept running into dead ends. When she finally came to the center she stopped and took in a few deep breaths that had escaped her through her trek. When she looked up she saw the white rabbit circling the big oak that stood squarely in the middle of the clearing. He seemed to be searching for something because he kept jumping up and down the tree’s trunk while knocking on its bark. He did this several times as Alice looked on until he finally kicked the tree and started cursing as he jumped on his uninjured leg.
Alice let out a little giggle but then realized that it was neither right nor very nice too laugh at someone when they were injured and it seemed a little impolite to just stand there without announcing herself.
“Are you alright Mr. Rabbit?” One of his long white ears twitched in her direction, he stopped hopping and stood strait. He turned to face in her direction his small gray eyes searching for his watcher. She stepped forward so he could see her from behind the hedge she was hiding. She stepped forward cautiously as to not scare him. She vaguely remembered her sister telling her that animals were often scared of humans. But she didn’t know why she was taking all the precautions now when she had already been shouting after him almost the entire time. And besides he seemed rather humane in the way he presented himself.
When he didn’t say anything or runway, she continued to move forward. All the while the gray eyes behind the gold speckles stared at her.
“Are you looking for something? Or did you lose your way?”
Again he didn’t answer.
“If you’d like I perhaps I could help-”
“That is quite enough. I think you better run along now little girl.”
“Oh! You can talk?!” It was as if Alice was stating a fact and not a question. And the thought didn’t really cross her mind that rabbits were generally not supposed to have the freedom to do so and she should be surprised by this. But she wasn’t. It seemed natural for her.
“Yes! Yes! And now that we have gotten that straightened out why don’t you run along and do what young girls do in your world.” He turned away from her and began to inspect the tree again. But Alice wasn’t about to be brushed aside so easily.
“Alice! Alice! Where are you! ALICE!!!!
Alice stayed silent and tried not to move or slip on the slippery mud where she half knelt-half hung on branches of a rose bush. Though it was rather difficult her flat black Mary Jane’s did not provide much grip on the slippery sludge and there was nothing for her to hold onto for support besides the prickly branches that shredded her hands like paper. She was almost slipped when one of her sister’s minions, Claudius came just a few feet from where she was hiding. Biting back a whimper as she grabbed a spiked branch, Alice once again pulled herself up. Once steady she looked back from behind the leaves to see Claudius conversing with Charlotte. Alice would rather have died then have been discovered by that blood sucking leech. If Claudius had been her sister Alice was pretty sure she would have become his personal slave or worse.
She had chosen well for her hiding place. The bush was actually two bunched together their trunks a few feet apart. There was a parting in between them at the bottom creating a hole of sorts in the thick leaves and branches. The inside of the bushes was a sort of cave with a spiky roof and walls. It would most likely This bush was one of her favorite hiding places when she wanted to be alone or in this case an escape from a boring lecture from her sister-tutor.
It wasn’t like Alice enjoyed disobeying her sister it was just that Charlotte could just get so bossy at times.
“Alice, stop fidgeting. And read your book.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that this book doesn’t make any sense to me?”
“Why? What is wrong with it?”
“Well there really isn’t anything wrong with it. It just doesn’t have any pictures in it.”
She then just brushed off Alice and said that she was a child and would soon understand that there was a great deal of books in the world without pictures.
And it had been that way ever since their parents had given Charlotte full control of the household while they were away to India a year ago. Alice did have to admit that Charlotte had always seemed to think that things always had to go her way but now it was worse. Now she was critiquing Alice on what she ate, what she said, what she did, even what she wore. Before Alice used to be able to walk comfortably in light dresses that were cut short and easy to move around in. But now she has to wear big frilly dresses with heavy petty coats that made her trip and stumble whenever she took so much as a step.
Today Alice had had enough and had changed early in the morning and slipped outside before her sister realized her escape. On her way she had snuck into the kitchen to steal a few rolls and cheese that she stuffed in her apron pocket. She had just reached the rose garden when she had heard the angry frantic calls of her sister.
Alice was beginning to get very tired of being crutched in the wet mud and was considering getting out and risking her sister’s fury when she heard a peculiar noise. Not peculiar in the sense to be alarmed but a sound that sparked Alice’s curiosity. It had come from the bushes behind her.
Gingerly avoiding the needle point thorns, Alice pushed the branches aside. Her mouth fell open as her eyes met a most peculiar sight; a rabbit standing not four feet away from her astonished face. He wore a bright red and black checkered waist, a pair of form fitting blue and black striped pants, a yellow collared shirt and a baby blue tie. His fur was short and a perfect shade of snow white from his paws to the tip of his long ears.
H e almost looked like a statue until he blinked his bright pink eyes and took out suddenly as if by magic an over sized gold pocket watch. As he flipped its lid open he wrinkled his little bewhiskered nose. Suddenly he cursed and dashed out of the bushes.
“Oh, Mr. RABBIT! PLEASE, WAIT!” Alice scrambled up and began to follow after him.
The maze was an elaborate construction of tall eight foot tall hedges that took up much of the Hamilton Estate that was a vast couple thousand acres. The only things that rivaled its size were that of the large lake that expanded on the right side of the manor and the rose garden which extended around the left and front side of the manor and all the way to where the main road to Manchester. When Alice was younger she used to believe that the ones who tended to the maze’s perfect structure were little green fairies that had little claws that were used as gardening clippers. It wasn’t till Alice was seven when she discovered a gardener cutting one of the outside hedges with a rather large pair of scissor looking clippers. Ever since then Alice has been noticing all of the gardeners coming every two days to cut the littlest green leaf. And of course Charlotte didn’t make any compromises as far as imperfections went. She personally took a walk every day to make sure not the smallest piece of greenery went astray. Alice also memorized this labyrinth from her early days of adventuring. Well sort of.
At the moment, Alice, in her excitement in catching the rabbit, let all of her previous experiences escape her and kept running into dead ends. When she finally came to the center she stopped and took in a few deep breaths that had escaped her through her trek. When she looked up she saw the white rabbit circling the big oak that stood squarely in the middle of the clearing. He seemed to be searching for something because he kept jumping up and down the tree’s trunk while knocking on its bark. He did this several times as Alice looked on until he finally kicked the tree and started cursing as he jumped on his uninjured leg.
Alice let out a little giggle but then realized that it was neither right nor very nice too laugh at someone when they were injured and it seemed a little impolite to just stand there without announcing herself.
“Are you alright Mr. Rabbit?” One of his long white ears twitched in her direction, he stopped hopping and stood strait. He turned to face in her direction his small gray eyes searching for his watcher. She stepped forward so he could see her from behind the hedge she was hiding. She stepped forward cautiously as to not scare him. She vaguely remembered her sister telling her that animals were often scared of humans. But she didn’t know why she was taking all the precautions now when she had already been shouting after him almost the entire time. And besides he seemed rather humane in the way he presented himself.
When he didn’t say anything or runway, she continued to move forward. All the while the gray eyes behind the gold speckles stared at her.
“Are you looking for something? Or did you lose your way?”
Again he didn’t answer.
“If you’d like I perhaps I could help-”
“That is quite enough. I think you better run along now little girl.”
“Oh! You can talk?!” It was as if Alice was stating a fact and not a question. And the thought didn’t really cross her mind that rabbits were generally not supposed to have the freedom to do so and she should be surprised by this. But she wasn’t. It seemed natural for her.
“Yes! Yes! And now that we have gotten that straightened out why don’t you run along and do what young girls do in your world.” He turned away from her and began to inspect the tree again. But Alice wasn’t about to be brushed aside so easily.
Friday, March 26, 2010
JDaE Final letter
My Final Lit Circle
This Letter is on the book I read with my LCP (Literature Circle Partners) called John Dies at the End. The book follows the lives of two young men who unfortunately are caught up in an evil plot to destroy the world (the usual). Soy Sauce is the special drug with the unique proprieties to be able to give its user the ability to see into other diminutions. These dimensions are what David and his best friend John get mixed up in. Narrated by the perverted and Soy Sauced David Wong it is a suspenseful horror story that will keep you guessing till the very end.
It is hard to say which to which type of audience this book would mainly target. Mostly because of the way the author writes could be for fantasy or suspense. I suppose this book main targets are the SyFy Fans and readers who want a little bit of blood and guts. And plenty of crude sexual humor puns. It is a relatively fast read. Why? Because all of it is true. This book is full of nonsense monsters and bloody #%<5$! Oh yeah, the proof is on frickin' page 152 'We did a search at the local library and found a story from a few years before where a man had died after getting his penis caught in a mole trap he was working on. He bled to death. We told his ghost that it wasn't his house anymore and he had to leave. He didn't react to us until after a few hours’ worth of badgering and he vanished. No more stained carpet.’ I laughed pretty hard when I read that little tid bit. Anyway this book really does remind me of something that I would see on the SyFy channel. And considering the fact that they are now making a movie out of it there will probability be a lot of those people not that there is anything wrong with that.
Since I'm on the subject I also have something else to say. What makes the mix horror and comedy so appealing? Obviously people watch horror movies for the same reason they ride a roller coaster or go bungee jumping. To get that sudden adrenaline rush that comes with the thrill of being scared and not knowing what’s going to happen next. All within a safe (well relatively safe as far as the bungee thing goes) environment. And as for comedy it is all for a good hardy laugh. I mean who doesn't like to let all their stress go into that one single burst of sound. I know I defiantly do. So when the movie people or whatever came up with the idea that it would be good to mix them both together. Their idea was a huge success and then turned into an avalanche of new movies, books, and other stuff like that. This got me thinking about another thought should we even be reading this kind of stuff. I don’t have the intention to preach about that not it at all but I’m just kind of wondering ‘What if a little boy picks up this book and reads all of this sort of grown up material?’I know it’s all a bunch of what ifs but really it’s true if you watch Casablanca then go watch the Atonement they are both very romantic movies but to most people now a day’s prefer to watch the Atonement mostly because it has a lot more sex scenes(which was obviously forbidden during Humphrey Bogart’s day) . What I am getting at is that now a days people are beginning to get way too accustomed to things that really aren’t real but to them certainly seem real. Like for instance say you were playing video game that just came out and it’s really high tech, it has the buttons, the sensors, and all that jazz. It’s also very violent and extremely graphic. But it doesn’t stop there it also requires a lot of practice and full attention. And you know the saying if you keep doing something over and over again that’s what’s going to happen. This is what I mean by is it good for comedy and horror to be a mix. Should people really laugh as someone is getting ripped apart by a she-he alien? Or snort until our sides hurt as some random person gets sawed in half their blood spurting in all directions. Or take this sample from page 155 ‘ What I saw at that moment was a clown standing there with his gut split raggedly open, as if cut with a dull razor. In this perfectly rendered shaped cartoon he was using his own white gloved hands to feed a rope of his own intestines into his mouth. But it was those eyes that got me. His expressive cartoon eyes pulsed with a terror about to boil over into madness. Tears streaked down his face, sweat beaded his forehead. Those eyes pleaded with me, looked right into me and screamed to be put out of his misery. Those eyes told a story, not of a man eating himself, but a man forced to eat himself.’ Do we really want to teach our children that its okay to use violence? You know how children are they see one thing they think it its alright they go do it… Everything goes down the tubes… Hey we were all kids once.
I’ve really only read one horror novel besides JDaE which would be Interview with a Vampire (I refuse to count Twilight in the category of horror). They were similar in two respects: One the main character had no choice to become a vampire (in David’s case it was Soy Sauce) and they both had plenty of juicy blood and gore scenes. For me personally I prefer Anne Rice’s book over Wong’s mostly because I liked the way she told the story. I think its because she writes more like me I don’t know.
This Letter is on the book I read with my LCP (Literature Circle Partners) called John Dies at the End. The book follows the lives of two young men who unfortunately are caught up in an evil plot to destroy the world (the usual). Soy Sauce is the special drug with the unique proprieties to be able to give its user the ability to see into other diminutions. These dimensions are what David and his best friend John get mixed up in. Narrated by the perverted and Soy Sauced David Wong it is a suspenseful horror story that will keep you guessing till the very end.
It is hard to say which to which type of audience this book would mainly target. Mostly because of the way the author writes could be for fantasy or suspense. I suppose this book main targets are the SyFy Fans and readers who want a little bit of blood and guts. And plenty of crude sexual humor puns. It is a relatively fast read. Why? Because all of it is true. This book is full of nonsense monsters and bloody #%<5$! Oh yeah, the proof is on frickin' page 152 'We did a search at the local library and found a story from a few years before where a man had died after getting his penis caught in a mole trap he was working on. He bled to death. We told his ghost that it wasn't his house anymore and he had to leave. He didn't react to us until after a few hours’ worth of badgering and he vanished. No more stained carpet.’ I laughed pretty hard when I read that little tid bit. Anyway this book really does remind me of something that I would see on the SyFy channel. And considering the fact that they are now making a movie out of it there will probability be a lot of those people not that there is anything wrong with that.
Since I'm on the subject I also have something else to say. What makes the mix horror and comedy so appealing? Obviously people watch horror movies for the same reason they ride a roller coaster or go bungee jumping. To get that sudden adrenaline rush that comes with the thrill of being scared and not knowing what’s going to happen next. All within a safe (well relatively safe as far as the bungee thing goes) environment. And as for comedy it is all for a good hardy laugh. I mean who doesn't like to let all their stress go into that one single burst of sound. I know I defiantly do. So when the movie people or whatever came up with the idea that it would be good to mix them both together. Their idea was a huge success and then turned into an avalanche of new movies, books, and other stuff like that. This got me thinking about another thought should we even be reading this kind of stuff. I don’t have the intention to preach about that not it at all but I’m just kind of wondering ‘What if a little boy picks up this book and reads all of this sort of grown up material?’I know it’s all a bunch of what ifs but really it’s true if you watch Casablanca then go watch the Atonement they are both very romantic movies but to most people now a day’s prefer to watch the Atonement mostly because it has a lot more sex scenes(which was obviously forbidden during Humphrey Bogart’s day) . What I am getting at is that now a days people are beginning to get way too accustomed to things that really aren’t real but to them certainly seem real. Like for instance say you were playing video game that just came out and it’s really high tech, it has the buttons, the sensors, and all that jazz. It’s also very violent and extremely graphic. But it doesn’t stop there it also requires a lot of practice and full attention. And you know the saying if you keep doing something over and over again that’s what’s going to happen. This is what I mean by is it good for comedy and horror to be a mix. Should people really laugh as someone is getting ripped apart by a she-he alien? Or snort until our sides hurt as some random person gets sawed in half their blood spurting in all directions. Or take this sample from page 155 ‘ What I saw at that moment was a clown standing there with his gut split raggedly open, as if cut with a dull razor. In this perfectly rendered shaped cartoon he was using his own white gloved hands to feed a rope of his own intestines into his mouth. But it was those eyes that got me. His expressive cartoon eyes pulsed with a terror about to boil over into madness. Tears streaked down his face, sweat beaded his forehead. Those eyes pleaded with me, looked right into me and screamed to be put out of his misery. Those eyes told a story, not of a man eating himself, but a man forced to eat himself.’ Do we really want to teach our children that its okay to use violence? You know how children are they see one thing they think it its alright they go do it… Everything goes down the tubes… Hey we were all kids once.
I’ve really only read one horror novel besides JDaE which would be Interview with a Vampire (I refuse to count Twilight in the category of horror). They were similar in two respects: One the main character had no choice to become a vampire (in David’s case it was Soy Sauce) and they both had plenty of juicy blood and gore scenes. For me personally I prefer Anne Rice’s book over Wong’s mostly because I liked the way she told the story. I think its because she writes more like me I don’t know.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Wonderland chap 1 part 1
Okay I know there are a lot of versions out there about Lewis Carols Alice in Wonderland but I actually started working on this story like two years ago. So some of my ideas were taken a little bit but most of them are completly different from lets say the SyFy version 'Alice' and the new Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland. Which were great movies liked them both a lot. And of course there is the Disney version which most of the vast majority of the world knows.
So yeah, this like my own little version of Alice's adventures so I hope you guys like it.
++++++++
Falling
“ Alice! Alice! Where are you! ALICE!!!!
Alice stayed silent and tried not to move or slip on the slippery mud where she half kneeled-half hung on branches of a rose bush. Though it was rather difficult her flat black Mary Jane’s did not provide much grip on the slippery sludge and there was nothing for her to hold onto for support besides the prickly branches that cut shredded her hands like paper. She was almost slipped when one of her sister’s minions, Claudius came just a few feet from where she was hiding. Biting back a whimper as she grabbed a spiked branch, Alice once again pulled herself up. Once steady she looked back from behind the leaves to see Claudius conversing with Charlotte. Alice would rather have died then have been discovered by that blood sucking leech. If Claudius had been her sister Alice was pretty sure she would have become his personal slave or worse.
She had chosen well for her hiding place. The bush was actually two bunched together their trunks a few feet apart. There was a parting in between them at the bottom creating a hole of sorts in the thick leaves and branches. The inside of the bushes was a sort of cave with a spiky roof and walls. It would most likely This bush was one of her favorite hiding places when she wanted to be alone or in this case an escape from a boring lecture from her sister-tutor.
It wasn’t like Alice enjoyed disobeying her sister it was just that Charlotte could just get so bossy at times.
“Alice, stop fidgeting. And read your book.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that this book doesn’t make any sense to me?”
“Why? What is wrong with it?”
“Well there really isn’t anything wrong with it. It just doesn’t have any pictures in it.”
She then just brushed off Alice and said that she was a child and would soon understand that there was a great deal of books in the world without pictures.
And it had been that way ever since their parents had given Charlotte full control of the household while they were away to India a year ago. Alice did have to admit that Charlotte had always seemed to think that things always had to go her way but now it was worse. Now she was critiquing Alice on what she ate, what she said, what she did, even what she wore. Before Alice used to be able to walk comfortably in light dresses that were cut short and easy to move around in. But now she has to wear big frilly dresses with heavy petty coats that made her trip and stumble whenever she took so much as a step.
So yeah, this like my own little version of Alice's adventures so I hope you guys like it.
++++++++
Falling
“ Alice! Alice! Where are you! ALICE!!!!
Alice stayed silent and tried not to move or slip on the slippery mud where she half kneeled-half hung on branches of a rose bush. Though it was rather difficult her flat black Mary Jane’s did not provide much grip on the slippery sludge and there was nothing for her to hold onto for support besides the prickly branches that cut shredded her hands like paper. She was almost slipped when one of her sister’s minions, Claudius came just a few feet from where she was hiding. Biting back a whimper as she grabbed a spiked branch, Alice once again pulled herself up. Once steady she looked back from behind the leaves to see Claudius conversing with Charlotte. Alice would rather have died then have been discovered by that blood sucking leech. If Claudius had been her sister Alice was pretty sure she would have become his personal slave or worse.
She had chosen well for her hiding place. The bush was actually two bunched together their trunks a few feet apart. There was a parting in between them at the bottom creating a hole of sorts in the thick leaves and branches. The inside of the bushes was a sort of cave with a spiky roof and walls. It would most likely This bush was one of her favorite hiding places when she wanted to be alone or in this case an escape from a boring lecture from her sister-tutor.
It wasn’t like Alice enjoyed disobeying her sister it was just that Charlotte could just get so bossy at times.
“Alice, stop fidgeting. And read your book.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that this book doesn’t make any sense to me?”
“Why? What is wrong with it?”
“Well there really isn’t anything wrong with it. It just doesn’t have any pictures in it.”
She then just brushed off Alice and said that she was a child and would soon understand that there was a great deal of books in the world without pictures.
And it had been that way ever since their parents had given Charlotte full control of the household while they were away to India a year ago. Alice did have to admit that Charlotte had always seemed to think that things always had to go her way but now it was worse. Now she was critiquing Alice on what she ate, what she said, what she did, even what she wore. Before Alice used to be able to walk comfortably in light dresses that were cut short and easy to move around in. But now she has to wear big frilly dresses with heavy petty coats that made her trip and stumble whenever she took so much as a step.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
lit circle letter 1
Lit Circle 1
WARNING: content in the flowing blog post may contain offensive language to some readers. Read at own risk.
For the people who are reading this blog and perhaps wondering what the hell I’m talking about by the warning thing at the top its because I and three of my classmates are reading the same book for our English class and have to post our thoughts to the vast nether world that is internet. What book are we reading its called “John Dies at the End by David Wong. I know what you’re thinking well that’s irrelevant isn’t. But doesn’t the title also interreges you? Well it did too me which is partly why I agreed to read the book in the first place. I have also never read such a modern day horror story besides maybe Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire; Tom Cruise and Brad Pit were great in that movie (He He)!
Any way I have a couple questions for the lovely L CP who are reading this interesting little black book (without cover). What the hell is Soy Sauce? I’m so confused is it a drug that comes blond monster scorpion thingy or is it like a poison or something. And are they like ghost busters or something? I mean you know how in the first chapter when Shelly or whatever her name was like explodes into a bunch a snakes and then David starts to talk about how the Soy Sauce affects them so they can exercise her. So Yeah that’s two things…Oh! Also what do guys think of that Justin monster or as he calls himself Shithead (lovely name isn’t it!). I kind of think of this really mean kid at my old elementary school, ironically his name was also Justin, and the time he fell face first in the mud because he was trying to steal a little girls package of Oreos. Seriously kids can be so vicious!
Back on topic I think this a pretty good book so far even though I am getting a little tired of the puns at women’s chests every two to three pages. This book was defiantly written by a guy.
WARNING: content in the flowing blog post may contain offensive language to some readers. Read at own risk.
For the people who are reading this blog and perhaps wondering what the hell I’m talking about by the warning thing at the top its because I and three of my classmates are reading the same book for our English class and have to post our thoughts to the vast nether world that is internet. What book are we reading its called “John Dies at the End by David Wong. I know what you’re thinking well that’s irrelevant isn’t. But doesn’t the title also interreges you? Well it did too me which is partly why I agreed to read the book in the first place. I have also never read such a modern day horror story besides maybe Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire; Tom Cruise and Brad Pit were great in that movie (He He)!
Any way I have a couple questions for the lovely L CP who are reading this interesting little black book (without cover). What the hell is Soy Sauce? I’m so confused is it a drug that comes blond monster scorpion thingy or is it like a poison or something. And are they like ghost busters or something? I mean you know how in the first chapter when Shelly or whatever her name was like explodes into a bunch a snakes and then David starts to talk about how the Soy Sauce affects them so they can exercise her. So Yeah that’s two things…Oh! Also what do guys think of that Justin monster or as he calls himself Shithead (lovely name isn’t it!). I kind of think of this really mean kid at my old elementary school, ironically his name was also Justin, and the time he fell face first in the mud because he was trying to steal a little girls package of Oreos. Seriously kids can be so vicious!
Back on topic I think this a pretty good book so far even though I am getting a little tired of the puns at women’s chests every two to three pages. This book was defiantly written by a guy.
Friday, January 29, 2010
chap1 part 2
“As she exited off the stage with her winnings, a large man blocked her path. He was obviously a guard of some sort he had his master’s emblem on his arm band and also the same stance and bear like resemblance a guard should have. But this guard was also obviously off duty and from the smell that emitted from him he was enjoying it by staring at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. He grinned wryly at the pretty little dancer in front of him with crooked teeth and crossed his arms.
“Well ‘re you off ta, pretty.”
She didn’t reply she knew better than to provoke a drunk especially in this kind of situation. Instead she moved quickly to the right hoping to evade an unneeded encounter. But he seemed to still have some coordination in his brain to be able to snatch her arm and wretch her back. Her coins flew from inside her shawl and scattered on the ground when he gripped both of her hands tightly in one of his. She gasped as his grip nearly crushed her fingers.
“Please let go!”
“Now don’ be ’ike dat,’retty. I really ‘iked yer dancing. Don‘orry, I’ll take goo’ care ‘o’ ye”
He started to tow her towards the bar although she kept trying to frantically escape. She was just about to cry for help when all of a sudden she was out of the agonizing grip and there was a great crash of breaking glass and wood. Her tormentor was half way down the bar with a shower of glittering glass and covered in liquor.
Everyone stared at her rescuer the musician of the performance, a rather slender and young man. His handsome face was nearly covered by his long brown hair that was cut randomly around his angular face and stopped just below his shoulders. His dark green travelers robe matched his eyes and fit his thin but muscular build perfectly. Standing nearly above six feet it was hard to believe that this boyish looking man had nearly knocked a guard that was well over six foot eight. But he had and not a scratch on him. Not even a little bruising on his bony knuckles.
Brushing some dust off his clothes he turned towards the dancer.
“Are you alright Sandra?”
“Well ‘re you off ta, pretty.”
She didn’t reply she knew better than to provoke a drunk especially in this kind of situation. Instead she moved quickly to the right hoping to evade an unneeded encounter. But he seemed to still have some coordination in his brain to be able to snatch her arm and wretch her back. Her coins flew from inside her shawl and scattered on the ground when he gripped both of her hands tightly in one of his. She gasped as his grip nearly crushed her fingers.
“Please let go!”
“Now don’ be ’ike dat,’retty. I really ‘iked yer dancing. Don‘orry, I’ll take goo’ care ‘o’ ye”
He started to tow her towards the bar although she kept trying to frantically escape. She was just about to cry for help when all of a sudden she was out of the agonizing grip and there was a great crash of breaking glass and wood. Her tormentor was half way down the bar with a shower of glittering glass and covered in liquor.
Everyone stared at her rescuer the musician of the performance, a rather slender and young man. His handsome face was nearly covered by his long brown hair that was cut randomly around his angular face and stopped just below his shoulders. His dark green travelers robe matched his eyes and fit his thin but muscular build perfectly. Standing nearly above six feet it was hard to believe that this boyish looking man had nearly knocked a guard that was well over six foot eight. But he had and not a scratch on him. Not even a little bruising on his bony knuckles.
Brushing some dust off his clothes he turned towards the dancer.
“Are you alright Sandra?”
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Final
Final
Every week I do a blog post on blogspot.com. What I write about are the stories that I make up during my free time or rather anytime. I translate my thoughts and ideas of the stories from my packed little brain to a bright computer screen. To me blogging has two advantages and one disadvantage. The advantages are the skills you develop in learning how to write by using the comments that people give you and the overall satisfaction of knowing that your work is out there and it is a way to express how you feel through words. I do have to admit that blogging has changed my writing a little over time. My words are a little more how can I put it is more expressive and theatrical. I don’t really view this as a bad thing I think that writing is all about the words describing the life something that does feel real to the author. Which is what leads to the disadvantage of blogging which is that sometimes you can’t really do much if you don’t type very well; obviously I can but not very fast. I have never been one for using technology and most likely never will. So considering the pros and cons against blogging I am on the positive side of the party.
Blogging I’ve noticed has also cured me of some of the symptoms of my writer’s block that I often suffer from while writing. To me, writer’s block is either when I’m really able to write something and I know what I want to write about but I just can’t put my thoughts into words . Or I have harnessed a thought but I can’t get passed anymore than a couple of words. Sometimes to get of it I just right down the idea right there on the paper or screen and just go onto the next part of whatever I was trying to write. Other times I just keep going or I discard that thought so I am in no danger of getting stuck. Often this happens when I get a good idea in my head and I don’t think it through. I soon get too caught and forget to plan for what happens next after. In order to stop this from happening I usually write down a little chart of how I’m going to write the story or whatever just to give myself a little more structure. The chart usually has stuff like what is the story about? What is the main plot? Who are the protagonist and antagonist? What stands between the protagonist and their goal? Stuff like that. Sometimes I can never get out of a writer’s block I can name countless stories I have thrown out the window because I lost their plots somewhere along the way. Like for example right now I am having trouble putting together the pieces of my latest blog post and story ‘Sandra’. I already have a layout of what I want to happen I just can’t quite get the right words to describe my vision. But it’s coming along; I’m still working on it.
I am also working on the way I write which has been developing more and more over the years as I read new books. Books. Books, one of the most glorious words in the English language as far as I am concerned. There almost isn’t a single book in my household that I haven’t read (not to boast of course). I love reading. When I read a book I can be transported to where ever the author desires. Whether it is in the middle of the dusty Sahara Desert or the bustling street of eighteenth century London; I can be anywhere. My love for reading stories I think is what inspired me to become a writer and it has become a passion I do on a daily bases. This then leads me to my writing style as a writer. I have noticed that I can either be very descriptive and formal or very playful and modern. I believe this has something to do with what I read which can be either or; formal or informal. Probably one of my favorite books I have ever read is Bleak House by Charles Dickens but I also rather enjoy some more modern stories like City of Bones and of course Harry Potter. It also depends on the story I am trying to tell. If I was writing about a young milk maid in the seventh century I wouldn’t be as informal as I would if it in the twenty first century. But I have noticed that I tend to go a little more formal than playful. Again most likely because of my preferences in reading and me, my, and myself is like that.
Ultimately I’ve surprised even myself over this semester. For one thing I have increased my typing speed considerably since the beginning of the first quarter; I’m no longer using my fingers like chop sticks. I’ve tried new ways of how to deal with my writer’s block (some successful some not). And I have also accomplished my goal of writing at least a paragraph each week. This was a goal I had given myself at the beginning of the year that I thought would be helpful in the future and I was proven right. I can better describe what think on the screen and can now relate to how I feel at the present time which has been proven useful as I have been writing my blogs. I intend to enhance this skill by writing a little more this semester and practicing a little more on developing my story charts.
All in all blogging is fun and I think it is beneficial to the classroom. I enjoy working on my post and always look forward to the next one (although that’s just my opinion). I recommend it to other English teachers in need of assignments of their eager students (sarcasm).
Every week I do a blog post on blogspot.com. What I write about are the stories that I make up during my free time or rather anytime. I translate my thoughts and ideas of the stories from my packed little brain to a bright computer screen. To me blogging has two advantages and one disadvantage. The advantages are the skills you develop in learning how to write by using the comments that people give you and the overall satisfaction of knowing that your work is out there and it is a way to express how you feel through words. I do have to admit that blogging has changed my writing a little over time. My words are a little more how can I put it is more expressive and theatrical. I don’t really view this as a bad thing I think that writing is all about the words describing the life something that does feel real to the author. Which is what leads to the disadvantage of blogging which is that sometimes you can’t really do much if you don’t type very well; obviously I can but not very fast. I have never been one for using technology and most likely never will. So considering the pros and cons against blogging I am on the positive side of the party.
Blogging I’ve noticed has also cured me of some of the symptoms of my writer’s block that I often suffer from while writing. To me, writer’s block is either when I’m really able to write something and I know what I want to write about but I just can’t put my thoughts into words . Or I have harnessed a thought but I can’t get passed anymore than a couple of words. Sometimes to get of it I just right down the idea right there on the paper or screen and just go onto the next part of whatever I was trying to write. Other times I just keep going or I discard that thought so I am in no danger of getting stuck. Often this happens when I get a good idea in my head and I don’t think it through. I soon get too caught and forget to plan for what happens next after. In order to stop this from happening I usually write down a little chart of how I’m going to write the story or whatever just to give myself a little more structure. The chart usually has stuff like what is the story about? What is the main plot? Who are the protagonist and antagonist? What stands between the protagonist and their goal? Stuff like that. Sometimes I can never get out of a writer’s block I can name countless stories I have thrown out the window because I lost their plots somewhere along the way. Like for example right now I am having trouble putting together the pieces of my latest blog post and story ‘Sandra’. I already have a layout of what I want to happen I just can’t quite get the right words to describe my vision. But it’s coming along; I’m still working on it.
I am also working on the way I write which has been developing more and more over the years as I read new books. Books. Books, one of the most glorious words in the English language as far as I am concerned. There almost isn’t a single book in my household that I haven’t read (not to boast of course). I love reading. When I read a book I can be transported to where ever the author desires. Whether it is in the middle of the dusty Sahara Desert or the bustling street of eighteenth century London; I can be anywhere. My love for reading stories I think is what inspired me to become a writer and it has become a passion I do on a daily bases. This then leads me to my writing style as a writer. I have noticed that I can either be very descriptive and formal or very playful and modern. I believe this has something to do with what I read which can be either or; formal or informal. Probably one of my favorite books I have ever read is Bleak House by Charles Dickens but I also rather enjoy some more modern stories like City of Bones and of course Harry Potter. It also depends on the story I am trying to tell. If I was writing about a young milk maid in the seventh century I wouldn’t be as informal as I would if it in the twenty first century. But I have noticed that I tend to go a little more formal than playful. Again most likely because of my preferences in reading and me, my, and myself is like that.
Ultimately I’ve surprised even myself over this semester. For one thing I have increased my typing speed considerably since the beginning of the first quarter; I’m no longer using my fingers like chop sticks. I’ve tried new ways of how to deal with my writer’s block (some successful some not). And I have also accomplished my goal of writing at least a paragraph each week. This was a goal I had given myself at the beginning of the year that I thought would be helpful in the future and I was proven right. I can better describe what think on the screen and can now relate to how I feel at the present time which has been proven useful as I have been writing my blogs. I intend to enhance this skill by writing a little more this semester and practicing a little more on developing my story charts.
All in all blogging is fun and I think it is beneficial to the classroom. I enjoy working on my post and always look forward to the next one (although that’s just my opinion). I recommend it to other English teachers in need of assignments of their eager students (sarcasm).
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