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Category Archives: Random

Beginnings

There was another world in my garden when I was a child, one that could only be accessed through secret doors and passageways, across and under grapevines, up and down ropes, and around and through the trees. I had no real name for it, but my sister called it “Lafneria.” She was the one who took the trouble to breathe real life into the place. She built log benches there, places to rest among the hidden flowers, sheltered under elm tree branches. She was always the artist, and I was jealous of her skill, but oh so grateful when she let me enter this world of hers. We would eat rhubarb, and drink the water straight from the garden hose, listening to the hum of the mosquitoes that flew overhead. We would camp outside, a blanket-and-pillow-filled innertube from a tractor tire serving as a bed for each of us. There, we would lie awake beneath the stars and the cool glow of the Milky Way, waiting for one of our cats to find us, seeking our warmth. It was a world that we created together, each in our own way. I know my other sisters helped too, but my memory of their parts isn’t as strong as that word… Lafneria. I wish I knew how she came up with that. It made the whole place seem more magical, and more distant, even though it was still just a small spot in the garden in the back yard of my childhood home.

March Writing Challenge

Courtesy of Sonia M. over at Doing the Write Thing, I’ve discovered this month’s writing challenge. So, in response, here is my story. I call it “Hearing.”

I should have listened with both ears instead of one. Things might have been different tonight. I’d been warned, and I heard them, yeah, but I didn’t listen. That’s the critical bit, I suppose. Ah, hindsight.

I glanced down at my right leg, the small pool of blood collecting near my feet finally drawing my attention. “I suppose I deserve that, don’t I?” I muttered, looking for something to use as a bandage. “Screw it. There’s not much left in me anyway.” I glanced out the window. The helicopter lights were growing closer, and I could hear the increasing wail of the sirens. “Well, at least I know where I stand,” I chuckled, knowing full well that I would be lucky if I could sit up straight by the time they got to the otherwise empty apartment I was hiding out in.

I guess you could say that I regretted the way things had gone. I mean, if I’d truly listened, I would have seen it coming. Too late, though. They wouldn’t let me go now. The phone began to ring, and I, out of habit, answered it. “What?”

“Are you listening now?”

“More than ever.”

“You have one chance.”

“What do I do?”

“You know.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Good. If you truly mean it, you know what to do.”

“I love you.”

Click.

I dropped the phone and my gun in the crimson on the floor.

I raised my hands and I waited, patiently listening to approaching sirens.

An Addendum

Just a little bit of fun exposition. If Rime is indeed Arsus’ most loyal follower, then a certain definition of his name makes all the more sense to me, considering that Arsus is a winter deity.

Planning for the Future

Okay, so I’ve decided that I want one of these. “Come to my office. You must make it through the labyrinth first. If you survive, you can talk to me.”

I’ve got all kinds of ideas for my future home. It may just be the fact that I’m a writer, but I really love the idea of a Victorian style home that still has all kinds of hidden modern technology. It probably dates back to my early childhood, and this book. There’s a fantastic illustration near the center of the book that displays the full exterior of the house in which the main characters reside. I always wanted to live in that house. My sisters and I would even point to windows in the picture, saying “I want that room!” My love for Victorian style homes may also stem from my adoration of so many British authors and the architecture of their homes. I know it might seem a little silly, but I also love the idea of a hidden library/office that I can ideally use to hide from crazy fans of my wildly successful writing. Hey, I can dream, can’t I? Besides, you never know when that wannabe is going to show up.

In addition to my current job, it would seem that someone has finally paid some attention to all of those job applications I submitted. As I believe I said, I didn’t get the job with my bank. That’s okay, it’s not the end of the world. After all, that job really would have been for the money far more than the sheer joy of it. Instead, it looks like I’m going to be working part-time at the closest (hell yeah, short commute for once!) branch of the public library. The best part about this is that it’s a 20 hour a week job that I can work along with my current job. Two places of work where I’ll be surrounded by books…this is glorious.  Granted, I am still holding out for a tech writing job, since that’s kind of why I got my degree. I’ve applied for a couple of different related posts, each of which would be full time and pay almost double what I’m making right now. If I get one of them, I no longer have to worry about finding a roommate. I’d be able to afford this place on my own, with plenty left over even after my other expenses. Maybe I’d even let one of my less fortunate friends stay here with me in the 2nd bedroom, at a considerably reduced rate of rent, say…internet and utilities. We’ll see what the next few weeks bring.

I had a good night of D&D tonight. That’s the main reason I’m up still. That, and an inventory shift at work coming up (6 PM-12:30 AM). I’m actually looking forward to it. I’m looking forward to the next D&D session too, honestly. I love the game. Right now we’re playing three-class gestalt, meaning that our characters are leveling in three classes at once. It’s something we created about two years ago and have played around with a little, since actual rules exist only for single class (standard) and the original variant gestalt, which allowed for leveling in two classes at one time. I like D&D because it lets me get inside the head of a character for a brief while. It’s very akin to writing in that respect. I’ll fully admit that a great deal of my love for the fantasy genre is owed to my fondness for D&D, which in turn stems from my love for the works of people like Tolkien and Lewis (and I still need to read this). My setting is not unlike some worlds in which I’ve adventured as a D&D character. Some of my characters may still someday find themselves in a story, especially those who were just plain fun to play, like Eliza, the cheerful necromancer, who didn’t see her magic as evil, but more as a way to make new friends (or let old friends stay forever). It’s actually quite easy for me to cross over between RPG characters and story characters, since I like every character I create to be fairly round and realistic (within the confines of the setting). Right now, I’m reading Berserk, and I can’t decide if I want some characters the manga is inspiring to be story or game characters.

Update

There is mythology in progress.

I just need names for a fire giant and a pair of frost giants.

I also finally fixed the timestamp and some other settings on here. Look for more soon!

Date A Girl Who Reads

“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve. 

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”

— Rosemary Urquico

I really wish that I had written this. This is glorious.

Politics

Politics exist in every world, in some form or another. In Lord of the Rings, Gandalf had to get a whole council of people of different races together in order to decide how to destroy something that would bring about the end of the world if not “handled properly” (read destroyed). In my world (which has yet to be named), politics rule the various city-states. Each one is going to have a unique little thing about it. Dhe’skuva, the city on the desert’s edge, is the biggest city in the nation. As such, it will naturally be full of corrupt politicians who want all the power, and people who want to escape to the smaller city-states. Each city-state, additionally, will have a patron deity. It’s a very Greek system, and that appeals to me greatly.

In my world, there is no single thing that’s going to potentially destroy everything, with the exception of human nature. There are no aliens, no bits of supertechnology, etc. There are people, their ways, their beliefs, their interactions with one another. Even the most technologically advanced people in this world do not possess firearms, at least not in massive quantities. I’m toying with the idea of making one or two basic guns available, but not readily so. Crossbows are about the best ranged weapon, and swords are commonplace. At the same time, there will be airships. I like the idea of basic lighter-than-air travel being available. Again, just something about that appeals to me. I’m trying to balance the whole level of technology. I don’t want it to turn into “these guys have swords and these guys have laser pistols” or something like that. The world needs balance. Even the most militaristic city-state (probably Dhe’skuva) won’t have tech that far ahead of the more rural areas. Ah, the detail that goes into building a world. I’m also mildly obsessed with this show, and the way that music inspires so much of the setting.  Between that one, and this one, I think it’s quite possible that Shinichiro Watanabe  has given me all the setting I need. There’s also Firefly and the Knights of Cydonia music video. Somewhere in the midst of all of this, there is my story.

Today is going to be an interesting day at work. Our district manager (the scariest kind of DM there is) will be coming in to walk the store. Given the current situation with my employer, this is going to likely be the most intense visit. I’m also supposed to hear back from one of my potential future employers today. I’m trying not to be nervous. This job would be my first full-time job outside of college summer jobs. I don’t want to get my hopes up too much, though, for fear of grand disappointment. I have a tendency to do that to myself. I’ll get all kinds of excited about something that just might happen (but probably won’t), and then I’m crushed when it doesn’t work out. I suppose I invest far too much into my life, emotionally. I dunno. Maybe I’m secretly hoping I don’t get it, so that I don’t have to cut my hair. 😀

Anyway, I suppose I’ll be posting again soon enough with further details on how today goes.

Rambling

I’ve got a sickly green concoction in a glass in front of me. It’s mostly Mountain Dew Voltage. The rest is Kahlua.

I hate writing things in purely digital form. They’re not real enough for me. Ideas are too easily destroyed, words too easily unsaid. We live in a temporary world. Nothing we say or do is permanent anymore. We’re not permanent anymore. Just passing through on our way to wherever the hell it is we’re going. Words on paper mean something. Legally binding, as it were. Writing a story or a poem is like signing a contract with your creative side. On paper, there’s no backspace, no delete key. Sure, you can take an eraser to pencil and white-out to pen, but you don’t see the mistakes you made anymore. You erase your past with every mis-typed word. At least with paper, there’s some sign that something WAS there, even if it’s not anymore.

Superman is suicidal, but he can’t die. Think about it. He’s massively depressed. No one understands him, since he’s the last of his race. All he wants is to end it all and be with them again, see his REAL parents one more time. But he can’t die. Some freak coincidence with our planet’s sun makes him nearly immortal. What would you do? Why do you think he hurls himself into danger time and time again? He does everything he can to try to feel pain, but he can’t even BLEED under normal circumstances. He envies Bruce because, while Bruce too suffered loss, he will eventually die. He remains mortal, and so he has no fear. Clark, on the other hand, has no idea what physical pain even feels like anymore. He antagonizes Lex Luthor because he knows that Luthor possesses ways to obtain Kryptonite, the one thing in existence that can allow Superman to be physically harmed. Clark, then, is torn between saving his new friends and finally achieving what he’s sought for so long. Eventually, he will give in, Lex will win, and he can rest.

Things that I read make me wonder what kind of person Rime should be, personality-wise. I already know a few things about him. He’s a religious man. A priest of sorts. His beliefs are constantly being challenged, and he’s forced to question the very gods that make up the pantheon of his world. When he feels that his prayers are not being answered, he decides to take matters into his own hands. This is a driving force behind the quest he sets out on early in the story. He wants to prove that his devotion has not been pointless this whole time. He’s basically shouting “I EXIST!” to the night sky. Maybe at some point he’ll do this. I need to decide how prevalent alcohol use would be in his world. If he hides his emotions most of the time, maybe Arsus will get him drunk just to get him to open up a little. This could be a great spot to build off the hot springs scene I’ve been working on. It’s going to be a great sequence in which the characters (particularly Arsus and Rime) get to know each other better. I’m still debating who else will have joined in on their little adventure. I’m thinking no more than five total. I mean, that gives me a classic Five Man Band. Now don’t expect any of our little friends to necessarily perfectly fit any of those classic tropes. I intend to subvert them where it makes sense to do so.

“The Writing Writer”

“In my presence you might wake
Through this fiction I must fake
Your death to grace the face of my character
With these lessons he might learn
That all worlds from here must burn
For as God demands in the end we miss.”

I love Coheed and Cambria. I’m greatly saddened that I’ve only listened to one of their albums, now that I realize how deep the story behind the whole discography goes.

Again, I find myself staring down a pair of days off.  It’s very strange. I have only worked one day out of the last five. I know that this is due to asking a coworker to cover a shift so that I could make it home, but still. It’s a little disconcerting to feel so thoroughly unemployed while still having a job. Today should be a day for filling out more job applications, but it’s more likely to see more creative writing than truly productive writing. That is the hope, anyway. In all honesty, I’d be quite happy if either of those plans works out.

As I (think) I have said, I recently returned home for the funeral of my great uncle. He and I shared a name, albeit spelled differently. Apparently, however, this caused no small bit of uproar in my hometown. See, I’m from a LITTLE town. Everyone knows everyone. So when a funeral notice went around town that happened to have my name on it, some people freaked out, thinking that yours truly had gone and kicked the bucket. It was an oddly funny bit of an experience to tack on to the sad circumstance of seeing family at a funeral. I can also now say that reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. 😀

Rime has haunting eyes. They shift from gray to blue to green, depending on the light and his mood. This is going to severely freak Arsus out the first time he sees it happen. They’re going to be a major part of his emotional displays. The man is dedicated to his beliefs, and when he sees something that challenges all that he holds to be good and true, his eyes are going to show the struggle going on within him. In a similar manner, when he’s asked to make a choice for the greater good, any character paying close attention will be able to see an almost wistful look in his eyes. I’m choosing the eyes because of how frequently I’m told that my eyes are incredibly expressive. Rime and I have a great deal in common. I think that this makes him the easiest and yet most difficult character to write. While I can easily write him as me, the question is how much of myself should I allow myself to write into him. Where do I need to draw the line between character and writer? Should he be the narrator? Which is a greater problem, faith without belief, or belief without faith? (Thank you, V).

One last thing before I head off to writing for today. One of my good friends is a musician, putting together a bunch of house/trance music. You can check out his soundcloud page and listen to all of his current tracks here.