Cream and Gold

Fuzzy blue lights dance across the screen, and I want to dance, too, but instead I get up and walk away. I have more important things to do, things that might set me free. My mirror is my door and as reflection meets me, we shyly say hi before merging into a world that isn’t quite here, isn’t quite there. I want to dance under the sun, watch the desert sky explode into sunset. With the stars in your eyes and the wind in your hair, you are just like me. London fog under the streetlights is the best thing that ever happened to us, and when I see your smile, I smile too, for the first time in forever. We’ll live off of streetlight and reflections, and stolen moments whispering though your door. Play hide and seek, and I will hide in the twilight moments beyond your dreams, and seek you in the sunrise. Fences guide us like old forest trails that have been petrified like the trees, and we can find freedom here. It makes me feel safe, running away with you. We find things to do in our spare time, like breaking all barriers. I think I love you. You know things I thought only I knew, and you make me feel safe, loved, and cozy on rainy days. Numbers line up for us and dance, and here we go, diving into our dreams again. Blue shirts and white pants, barefoot dreams are food for us. Diving into the sea is a little too wet for my taste, but you draw me in and show me how to swim like I never have before. I do love you. I think I will tell you, and word bubbles in the ocean are far too appropriate. Then, the unthinkable happens. I hear the words, see your word bubble. “I love you, too.” We are free here, in the ocean. We found freedom, made it in the cream and rose colored moments that I love, and gilded them for all our lives. We love each other. 

Changes in Quiet

I’m curious. Fascinated, in fact. How does it work? What does this button do? Melt it all down and try to purify it, see what happens. Paint the sky with indigo, and a color I can’t describe, somewhere between a gentle pink and a lavender and plain brown. I’ve always wanted to see a new color, experience delighted confusion over something new, something I’ve never seen before. Wait for me on the side of the road, I’ll come down when I come around the mountain when I come. You think it’s a mistake, don’t you? But look closer and a song forms, unbidden, in your mind, a fun, joyful song. Is it really unbidden? It’s not, right? I called it there. You didn’t know I could do that, but I’m still getting used to change, to strange new things. Young dreams in old hearts, that’s what magic is made of. Old souls are rare, but young souls are incredible. Exploding with color, flavor, delight, laughter over something silly and odd. Peacock feathers in a green setting, lining the wall, carpeting the floor. Do you think I’m silly and odd? If not, please feel free to fill out a form enclosing your final frivolities. Old poems in new ears, a new song by an old voice. Yes, Shenandoah, life really is old here. If you think it’s plaid and boring and unattractive, I won’t be offended, but I’ll have to change my perspective of you. Glasses frame laugh lines, stretching out like an unsuspected diamond. Pretty and playful, fast and deep, some words clash without my meaning to. I didn’t give them permission, but they don’t need it, and they know that. Something new isn’t as exciting as I thought it would be. Oh, trust me, it is exciting, but it’s also solemn and quiet and gradually grows on your awareness, not so fast as to be alarming, but when you can finally focus on it, it’s not new at all, just not old. 

The Inspiring Story of an Amputee

I see a certain man, who has lost an arm and a leg, almost daily.
He is quiet, never asks for help or money, food, anything.
Almost daily, his small shelter is destroyed, and he is compelled to build a new one.
He never gives up, just keeps on going.
One day, I asked him how he does it: never give up, keep on moving, keep on building a new home.
All he did was stare at me, quietly, as always.
Here is his picture.

Happy Halloween!

Listen to my Heart for a Time

So hello everyone, y'all probably thought this was an abstract short because of the title but SUPRISE! It's not because I'm working on a new book and I remembered today, "Oh yeah, I have a blog that nobody is going to read because I never post anything anymore" so I really was thinking of you while reading Adam Young's blog and giggling all alone at home to myself. 

Moral of the story? I thought, since National Novel Writing Month was coming up, I'd list all the books I'm working on and tell you a little about all of them. Prepare to be disappointed, though, because several of them have already been abandoned. 

This is how my files look. Very organized, yes. 

So the first book on the list, entitled Blank, is an abandoned one. This one started out as the idea of this young girl who was selected by the government to become a force of the Secretest Secrety Service. (Many of my books will sound like this.) She went through a lot of upgrades and painful things to become this force, and she had a companion who helped her out with everything. Her name was Tagg and his name was Trevor. The idea was that they would eventually overthrow the government, but not fall in love. 

The next book, Centurion, I will have a special post for, since it is new and exciting and wonderful. 

Then, there is How Beautiful We Were. This is about a futuristic society in which everyone eventually turned into robots, since whenever something broke or got old on their bodies - a broken arm or failing eyesight - that part was replaced by a new, robotic part. This even happened to their brains: that is, when someone starts losing memories and getting old, their brain is replaced with a robot one, and they turn into what is called an Android. Well, the grandson of the man who invented the robotic brain, named Jex Gear, is determined to put a stop to it. This is about how he set about doing that.

Next on the list is I Am Nothing. Depressing, right? This is about a girl who is persecuted for being one of the rare magic users in the world. She has two personalities, one for each form of magic: a negative and a positive persona. I got this idea when I was hanging out with some awesome people who were of the Gothic persuasion. I came out one day wearing this brilliant yellow shirt, and the next day dressed like them, in blacks and dark colors. That’s where this one came from. And, unfortunately, it’s halfway abandoned.

Last of Five I’m not going to talk about. Suffice it to say that…. It all started with a name.

Ranco is about a Los Angeles boy who meets a shape-shifter living in the city. They strike up an unlikely friendship and become partners battling crime.

Skye is about freaky government experiments, again. An alien ambassador comes to Earth to ally itself with the American Government, and does so by unlocking elemental powers in certain younger people. And it’s abandoned.

Slash is the biggest book so far in this list. It’s inspired, partially, by the movie “Wreck-It Ralph,” and the songs “Shut Up and Drive,” from that same movie. It’s about underground street racers, explosions, heartbreak, sorrow, loss, revenge, speed, and good looking people. This is a book that I love opening up randomly and adding a few lines to every now and again.

Sylvain Life is a book about an explorer named Ambrose Fontain who believes in elves. He sets out to find one, and does. It doesn’t really have much of a plot, so it’s pretty much abandoned by now.

The Chronicles of Viveria was my first attempt at writing the Last of Five. It didn’t work out, but I never deleted it, for some reason.

The Outfitter was an interesting attempt at a new writing style. It is about a girl named Skeyna and her mother, Morgan. They owned a shop that prepared supplies for adventurers that was pretty successful because the owner, Morgan, had the ability to read her customer’s futures and tell from that what they would need on their adventures. Abandoned due to lack of plot.

The Right Side of the Fence is my attempt at an autobiography about life. Abandoned due to lack of plot. Just kidding! I just never really felt like anything was that important that I needed to write it down.

The Writer’s Passage is about a girl who lives in the time of knights and kings, and who attempts to be accepted into the highly secretive but widely acclaimed Writer’s Guild. (It’s actually where you learn how to write magic. Cool, right?) Once again, abandoned due to writer’s failure.

Werewolf Nightmares was my first and last attempt to write down my frenetic and insane dreams. Abandoned because of sheer psychotic insanity.

So, there you have it! A list of the half-finished books that I have locked away on my computer. TaDa!

Please forgive me for rambling in your ears (eyes?) and spurting nonsense at delicious times of the day. 

Shatter Me

More fanart! I couldn't help it! And this is the best music video I've ever seen! 

Watch the gears spin, watch the cogs move the arms of the clock that ticks away the rest of my life. I want to break away, but I can’t just shatter the things that make me: I don’t know what will happen. There has to be a way, a way that I can escape this clockwork circus. All the other dolls, all the other acrobats and musicians, they aren’t real, and they aren’t good company, either. Where can I go? Where is the light? I need escape! Dash against the glass tent walls, shatter me! I’m stuck here! Someone has to find me and let me go! Fly away from the audience that watches me with marbles for eyes. It is cold, and I feel empty. But I can’t just give up; that’s not what I was made for. Take me away, let me be, let me live far away! I can’t stand it anymore! I’ll forget the consequences when they come, and dive through the swarm into the cool, silent mirror of the real world. I can’t live here, and a cage is no safe place for a bird. There are just too many cats around here. Clockwork body, let me go. I can’t stay with your forever. Everything is peaceful, though, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why I don’t fit in. I am wild, I am fire, I am a tempest that will break and shatter this frail glass into millions of pieces! You cannot keep a wildfire in a glass jar without exploding. But if that is true…why am I kept here? I told you to let me go! Fire shall burn those who dare to try and bend its will! Perhaps fire will not set me free, then. I must find what will! Strong as stone, but that is no match for iron. As free as water, but even water can be held against its will. I think I might know, now. I remember the dance that my clockwork self was programed to, and rise on my toes. Lifting my arms above my head, I will perform this ballet, and then, unleash the power in my fragile, porcelain chest. Finally, I know. One cannot keep wind in a jar, just like one cannot trap a summer breeze. Sound will break this prison, and sound is what I have. Pure, crystalline notes of nothing but harmony come from me, and I see the walls start to tremble. Jericho fell to the trumpet, and this prison is nothing compared to my voice. I can see the cracks, now: my world is shattering! 

Master of Tides

This song captivated me. It's called "Master of Tides," by stunning violinist Lindsey Stirling. 

And here's my own kind of fanart for it. 

As the wave rolls in, breathe with me. Copy my movements, and this dance shall begin. Bold, dramatic gestures with your arms, and with your feet, draw on the sand, wild exaggerated lines and swirls, call the tide in with me. Emphasize the freedom of the sea, and be free with me! Come, now we break away, and each dance on our own, almost fighting, almost kissing, lovely, strange, wild, free as the sea. Finally, stand still. The tide has not been called yet. There is more to do here. Close your eyes and exhale as, for once in its years, the sea is calm as glass. Then inhale and slowly gaze out, across the deep, and spring into motion once more. Quickly, draw on the sand with your dance, until the picture starts to emerge. Now, let us stop, watch the tide rise as the sirens call and the sailors dance to our own tune. It is me against you, now. Who will win the favor of the sea? Float free, and I shall complete the next move of your dance until you finally figure out how to dance on your own. Oh, this is truly the start. Leap high, clap your hands, we will never stop. Bend low, spring back, call imperiously for a halt that you don’t need and know will never come. Hands behind your back, what are you hiding from me? First tiptoe on one foot, then twirl to the other. Bend and bow, catch your arm in mine, and circle each other, hands locked, until I count three and we dance away once again, only to reengage this charming battle. Swing your arms, sailor, and I shall dance with the grace of the kelp fronds. Try to bend with the current, and I am as strong as the polar ice caps. Feel the wooden planks beneath you, and I am the sea, carrying you away. Dance with the waves, and I am the wind, sweeping along above you. We are friends too close to be companions: we are enemies, dancing for the favor of the sea, and only one of us can win. You may keep her warm and ice free for most of the time, but it is I, not you, who call the tides. My friend, the sun, you are warm and forgiving, but I am the moon, and the sea will follow me. The sea has no choice, but to follow me: for I am the Master of Tides.

What Superman Says

My brother just had to say this, so I just had to post it. 

Superman: "San Fran-sis-keo. It's related to San Fran-Tokyo." 

I died of laughter and my ghost is now writing on my blog. 

Happy schooling.