THIS is the PouringMyHeartOut/ContemplatingLife Post. And don't worry, I'll keep it brief... not.
So many of you know that I've become.. cynical? harsh? completely lost?... forgive me for that. It was a combo of life, school, and my book-dom (book-kingdom) crashing down on me.
Life problems = a sick feeling that all my friends are going to up and leave me for no good reason at all. This also comes into play with some of my latest nightmares. I'm seriously scared that I'll loose all of my friends if I become famous or actually publish. I'm afraid I'm going to loose you guys ;( I sound so mushy, but it's really true!
School problems = this is, like, a biggie. Ya know when you go to school and you're not only the outcast, but the outcast who doesn't care. Aren't they supposed to leave you alone after you stop caring??? Oh, well. It's a case of seeing people I hate too much and seeing people I love too little. There's really nothing I can do about that.
Book-dom problems = this is more of a case of 'What the heck am I going to work on next?' and 'How do these authors make it through the second draft?' - itis. I'm really NOT sure what I want to do next. Along with the fact that I want to start a fictional story-blog about a mom who dies of cancer and leaves a diary for her son... it's REALLLLLLLYYYYYY depressing/sad and I'm not sure if anyone would read this, but it's a pretty cooooool idea. Add unto ALLLL of that that I'm still working on both 50EPOL and SoED AND the second draft of FoRM... Lord have mercy! So I'd like to see if any of you would consider reading the cancer-diary-blog story - just comment, darlings.
Well, I'm gonna flee... and continue watching Under The Greenwood Tree. lol, hopeless non-romance-believing-romantic that I am.
Ciao.
Live Long and Prosper,
Asiat
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
you're going to WANT to kill me, but then you'll give a fan-girl SQUEEEE!!!
so, i figure, that's exactly what you're going to do when you read my next selection. i FINALLY!!!! found out how i want to start this once-deadbook. *hint hint*
lol. :D :D :D I want YOU to try and figure out which dead book! (commentos!)
Prologue
Master Al’ead stood contemplatively looking at the fire. He heard a knock at his door and turned around. He was a tall, rather young man – not too old. He had icy blue eyes and deeply tanned skin; a rugged shaped body.
“Who is it?” he said quietly.
“Adela, Master Al’ead,” a small girl sniffled. Master Al’ead smiled down on the child.
“Adela, my dear, whatever is the matter?” Al’ead said, opening the door for her. She ran in and clutched his legs in a child’s bear hug.
“Papa yelled at me because I talked to a servant-boy, a bard,” she wept. “Rafael is – is intelligent and funny and Papa says I can never speak to him again because he is not my equal until he is actually a bard… then he will be my superior. Why can I not talk to him, Al’ead? Why?”
“Shh, Adela, be still,” Al’ead soothed.
“Will you tell me a story? To get my mind off of it?” Adela asked, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. Al’ead had always admired the child’s insightfulness and intelligence – admired the way she spoke as an adult.
He sat on a chair and smiled as Adela climbed up into his lap. In her dreams, she referred to him as her father, not her biological father. He loved the child dearly as much as the child loved him.
“A story, please?” she begged.
“Alright, alright,” he laughed, kissing her forehead and brushing her black her dark hair.
“Once upon a time, before our islands were covered in the Mist, we were a proud united nation. All of the islands: Karnar, Theselon, Theo, Dragon Island, Calips Island – our home, the Realm of the Barbarians, the Desert Islands. Everyone. There was a greedy man,” Al’ead said bitterly. “A greedy man who convinced his mistress and his country to turn on the others; they began a war unlike any other. Thousands of dead, and soil that was drenched in the blood of our forefathers. It was… terrible…”
“How would you know, Master Al’ead?” she asked fighting her slumping eyes.
“My father…” he said by way of explanation. “Anyways, the war lasted so long, people began to forget the real reason for it – but the man continued his campaign for the domination of the islands. Finally, diplomats from the other islands decided that enough was enough. They met the man and his mistress at the Lost City.
“One night, the four couples stood hand in hand at the center of the City. Silver rain crashed down on them and lightning stroked the skies. A dark-skinned man, the one who had begun the war, clenched his teeth at the others, yelling that this land was made for war and war shall be its destiny.
“The man leading the four couple responded ‘I will not let you do this. I will not let you destroy this land with your lust for power.’ The dark man replied, ‘I had no need to destroy this land, it destroyed itself.’ He then commanded his mistress, ‘Do it, do it now.’
“The mistress began a rhythmic dance, a wicked chant escaping her lips. Snakes rose up from the ground and killed the four couples where they stood. The dark man’s mistress was a witch – with dark, vile power. But even the Dark Forces suffer when life is taken from the earth. After all were dead, she ceased her vile dance and collapsed unto the floor as the Darkness tried to recover its life force.
“Try as she might to help the force, her work was to no avail. The guilt of murdering eight people in cold blood came crashing down. The guilt and the force became so much that she died as well…” Al’ead stopped his narration when he saw that Adela was asleep. He laid her on his cot next to the fire and covered her with a wool blanket. He sat on the ground and leaned his back on the cot. He stared into the fire.
“Please, Master Al’ead, continue with your story,” Adela said quietly, patting his dark hair gently.
“I will, I will,” he whispered, taking her hand in his. “The wicked man was… grieved… to see the one person he loved and who had loved him lying dead. He began grieving as no man ever had. He began to repent his evil ways. He began a life that was simple and he did not lust for power as he once had. Deep down inside, the man hated himself, cursed himself, for killing the only people who could have brought peace to the Islands. As much as he tried, the lands would not stop their war. They claimed his brain had gone to mush. He prowled the land and the sea in search of peace and of death. He grew old searching. He grew old…but would not die.
“The Darkness made the man prowl the earth – sometimes in the guise of a young man, but other times as an old one. Even now he prowls the earth…” Master Al’ead stopped. He turned to see the child sleeping peacefully. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “And that man’s name was Al’ead,” he whispered. “That man is me, Adela. Would you forgive me if you knew?”
Master Al’ead stroked Adela’s cheek where her tears made little dried streaks. Al’ead gathered her up in his arms. He carried her back into her room and, as he closed the door, silent tears fell down his cheeks.
The morning afterwards, Master Al’ead took his leave of ??? Castle. He was never seen again in the country.
________________________________________________________________________________
Part 1 – the Beginning Years
Eight years later…
“Must you go, Eliza?” Adela asked inquisitively. “Where are you going anyway?” Eliza pulled a gown over top her undergarment and tightened the laces.
“I go to my husband, Adela, love,” she answered quietly. Adela had always been a wild soul; Eliza being the quiet, more obedient of Sir Belroth’s daughters. “I dare say you shall be married in less than two years. When you are eighteen, dear.”
“I won’t ever get married,” Adela said passionately.
“You will,” Eliza chuckled. “Just you wait.” Just then, a maid came in telling them that their father wished to see both of his daughters. They exchanged glances and walked to his study.
“You may be at a loss as to why I have summoned you,” Sire Belroth said darkly. He was not a kind man, and never had been – often taking delight in frightening his children.
“Papa, we will know soon enough,” Eliza said, pursing her lips.
“Yes, yes,” Belroth said. “Adela will become your companion and charge when you marry. You are both being packed for. I don’t want Adela in this house for very much longer. She is too wild and we will never make an assassin of her. I chose not to do so with you, Eliza, because it would not suit you… but I am sure Adela’s evil ways will…”
“Papa, please stop,” Eliza said seriously. “You’re hurting her.” Adela was fighting back tears.
“No, no,” Adela said in a fight to be a good child. “I will go. If you hate me that much, then I will go. I am sure Eliza loves me more that you ever did and she will raise me better than you ever could!” Those words stung Sir Belroth. He had always prided himself on his ability to raise good children. He stood and snarled at his own child.
“You ungrateful child, I gave you birth,” he yelled. “You will go as any meek child would, and nothing more. You will not insult your father!”
“You are not father to me, Sir,” Adela replied, her green eyes flashing angrily. “You never were and you never will be! I take my leave of you.” Adela turned around and left the room, but not before Sir Belroth slapped her cheek. That child always made him so angry. Could she not control her mouth a moment?
Adela rushed from her room, tears pouring down her cheeks. She ran to her room and flung herself down on her bed, crying into her pillow.
“You are no father to me,” she whispered repeatedly.
Hours later, Eliza and Adela boarded the ship. They were silent and Eliza very soon became sick. Adela took to the task of caring for her. Eliza knew that Adela was a good child and that she would make a good Assassin. She had made plans of her own – against her father’s wishes. But she, after all, was not her father’s property now, she was her husband’s. She was not at her father’s mercy any longer.
“Here, Eliza,” Adela whispered, “Here is some broth.” Eliza took a sip and swallowed. Adela kept a bucket within arms reach, but Eliza nodded that she could keep it down.
“Adela?” Eliza asked when Adela lay next to her. “Would you like to continue your lessons… as an Assassin?”
“I would,” Adela said eagerly, but she downcast her eyes. “But father has forbidden it, Eliza. I cannot.”
“You can and you will,” Eliza smiled. “Papa has no control over you now, he is nothing to you because he gave you to me. I am your mother and your charge. You will go to school. I will see to it.”
“You are not my mother, Eliza, you are my sister,” Adela smiled. “But I thank you!” Adela hugged Eliza’s slender waist tightly.
“I fear we will have to continue etiquette lessons,” she laughed. Adela smiled.
“So be it.”
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..... how do you like it???
Live long and prosper,
Asiat
lol. :D :D :D I want YOU to try and figure out which dead book! (commentos!)
Prologue
Master Al’ead stood contemplatively looking at the fire. He heard a knock at his door and turned around. He was a tall, rather young man – not too old. He had icy blue eyes and deeply tanned skin; a rugged shaped body.
“Who is it?” he said quietly.
“Adela, Master Al’ead,” a small girl sniffled. Master Al’ead smiled down on the child.
“Adela, my dear, whatever is the matter?” Al’ead said, opening the door for her. She ran in and clutched his legs in a child’s bear hug.
“Papa yelled at me because I talked to a servant-boy, a bard,” she wept. “Rafael is – is intelligent and funny and Papa says I can never speak to him again because he is not my equal until he is actually a bard… then he will be my superior. Why can I not talk to him, Al’ead? Why?”
“Shh, Adela, be still,” Al’ead soothed.
“Will you tell me a story? To get my mind off of it?” Adela asked, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. Al’ead had always admired the child’s insightfulness and intelligence – admired the way she spoke as an adult.
He sat on a chair and smiled as Adela climbed up into his lap. In her dreams, she referred to him as her father, not her biological father. He loved the child dearly as much as the child loved him.
“A story, please?” she begged.
“Alright, alright,” he laughed, kissing her forehead and brushing her black her dark hair.
“Once upon a time, before our islands were covered in the Mist, we were a proud united nation. All of the islands: Karnar, Theselon, Theo, Dragon Island, Calips Island – our home, the Realm of the Barbarians, the Desert Islands. Everyone. There was a greedy man,” Al’ead said bitterly. “A greedy man who convinced his mistress and his country to turn on the others; they began a war unlike any other. Thousands of dead, and soil that was drenched in the blood of our forefathers. It was… terrible…”
“How would you know, Master Al’ead?” she asked fighting her slumping eyes.
“My father…” he said by way of explanation. “Anyways, the war lasted so long, people began to forget the real reason for it – but the man continued his campaign for the domination of the islands. Finally, diplomats from the other islands decided that enough was enough. They met the man and his mistress at the Lost City.
“One night, the four couples stood hand in hand at the center of the City. Silver rain crashed down on them and lightning stroked the skies. A dark-skinned man, the one who had begun the war, clenched his teeth at the others, yelling that this land was made for war and war shall be its destiny.
“The man leading the four couple responded ‘I will not let you do this. I will not let you destroy this land with your lust for power.’ The dark man replied, ‘I had no need to destroy this land, it destroyed itself.’ He then commanded his mistress, ‘Do it, do it now.’
“The mistress began a rhythmic dance, a wicked chant escaping her lips. Snakes rose up from the ground and killed the four couples where they stood. The dark man’s mistress was a witch – with dark, vile power. But even the Dark Forces suffer when life is taken from the earth. After all were dead, she ceased her vile dance and collapsed unto the floor as the Darkness tried to recover its life force.
“Try as she might to help the force, her work was to no avail. The guilt of murdering eight people in cold blood came crashing down. The guilt and the force became so much that she died as well…” Al’ead stopped his narration when he saw that Adela was asleep. He laid her on his cot next to the fire and covered her with a wool blanket. He sat on the ground and leaned his back on the cot. He stared into the fire.
“Please, Master Al’ead, continue with your story,” Adela said quietly, patting his dark hair gently.
“I will, I will,” he whispered, taking her hand in his. “The wicked man was… grieved… to see the one person he loved and who had loved him lying dead. He began grieving as no man ever had. He began to repent his evil ways. He began a life that was simple and he did not lust for power as he once had. Deep down inside, the man hated himself, cursed himself, for killing the only people who could have brought peace to the Islands. As much as he tried, the lands would not stop their war. They claimed his brain had gone to mush. He prowled the land and the sea in search of peace and of death. He grew old searching. He grew old…but would not die.
“The Darkness made the man prowl the earth – sometimes in the guise of a young man, but other times as an old one. Even now he prowls the earth…” Master Al’ead stopped. He turned to see the child sleeping peacefully. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “And that man’s name was Al’ead,” he whispered. “That man is me, Adela. Would you forgive me if you knew?”
Master Al’ead stroked Adela’s cheek where her tears made little dried streaks. Al’ead gathered her up in his arms. He carried her back into her room and, as he closed the door, silent tears fell down his cheeks.
The morning afterwards, Master Al’ead took his leave of ??? Castle. He was never seen again in the country.
________________________________________________________________________________
Part 1 – the Beginning Years
Eight years later…
“Must you go, Eliza?” Adela asked inquisitively. “Where are you going anyway?” Eliza pulled a gown over top her undergarment and tightened the laces.
“I go to my husband, Adela, love,” she answered quietly. Adela had always been a wild soul; Eliza being the quiet, more obedient of Sir Belroth’s daughters. “I dare say you shall be married in less than two years. When you are eighteen, dear.”
“I won’t ever get married,” Adela said passionately.
“You will,” Eliza chuckled. “Just you wait.” Just then, a maid came in telling them that their father wished to see both of his daughters. They exchanged glances and walked to his study.
“You may be at a loss as to why I have summoned you,” Sire Belroth said darkly. He was not a kind man, and never had been – often taking delight in frightening his children.
“Papa, we will know soon enough,” Eliza said, pursing her lips.
“Yes, yes,” Belroth said. “Adela will become your companion and charge when you marry. You are both being packed for. I don’t want Adela in this house for very much longer. She is too wild and we will never make an assassin of her. I chose not to do so with you, Eliza, because it would not suit you… but I am sure Adela’s evil ways will…”
“Papa, please stop,” Eliza said seriously. “You’re hurting her.” Adela was fighting back tears.
“No, no,” Adela said in a fight to be a good child. “I will go. If you hate me that much, then I will go. I am sure Eliza loves me more that you ever did and she will raise me better than you ever could!” Those words stung Sir Belroth. He had always prided himself on his ability to raise good children. He stood and snarled at his own child.
“You ungrateful child, I gave you birth,” he yelled. “You will go as any meek child would, and nothing more. You will not insult your father!”
“You are not father to me, Sir,” Adela replied, her green eyes flashing angrily. “You never were and you never will be! I take my leave of you.” Adela turned around and left the room, but not before Sir Belroth slapped her cheek. That child always made him so angry. Could she not control her mouth a moment?
Adela rushed from her room, tears pouring down her cheeks. She ran to her room and flung herself down on her bed, crying into her pillow.
“You are no father to me,” she whispered repeatedly.
Hours later, Eliza and Adela boarded the ship. They were silent and Eliza very soon became sick. Adela took to the task of caring for her. Eliza knew that Adela was a good child and that she would make a good Assassin. She had made plans of her own – against her father’s wishes. But she, after all, was not her father’s property now, she was her husband’s. She was not at her father’s mercy any longer.
“Here, Eliza,” Adela whispered, “Here is some broth.” Eliza took a sip and swallowed. Adela kept a bucket within arms reach, but Eliza nodded that she could keep it down.
“Adela?” Eliza asked when Adela lay next to her. “Would you like to continue your lessons… as an Assassin?”
“I would,” Adela said eagerly, but she downcast her eyes. “But father has forbidden it, Eliza. I cannot.”
“You can and you will,” Eliza smiled. “Papa has no control over you now, he is nothing to you because he gave you to me. I am your mother and your charge. You will go to school. I will see to it.”
“You are not my mother, Eliza, you are my sister,” Adela smiled. “But I thank you!” Adela hugged Eliza’s slender waist tightly.
“I fear we will have to continue etiquette lessons,” she laughed. Adela smiled.
“So be it.”
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..... how do you like it???
Live long and prosper,
Asiat
Friday, May 15, 2009
I TOLD YOU...
I was working on EVERYTHING...
Featurette of the blog post: 50 Extra Pounds of Love
LOL I LOVE THIS ONE :D :D :D
HOMEROOM
It’s the first day of class, sophomore year. I have the same book bag that I had last year; but, unlike the cheerleaders, mine isn’t signed or doodled on by my friends. I crowd with the other students around the bulletin board of homeroom – hoping it looks like I’m popular. That’s when I read it.
ATTENTION!
DO YOU HAVE THE SELF-HATRED OF A WALNUT?
OR OF THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING?
LEARN HOW TO LOVE YOURSELF
MEETINGS IN MRS ALLEGRO’S ROOM
3:30-4:30
MONDAYS AND FRIDAYS
What kind of stupidity is that? “Learn how to love yourself,” yeah, that’s sure possible. What a joke. The bell rings and I take my seat for class.
8th PERIOD - ART
“Welcome back, students,” Mrs. Allegro greets warmly. She’s replied by a groan of kids who look like they haven’t slept in weeks; I’m among them. Mrs. Allegro frowns a little and says, “Good afternoon, class.”
“’Afternoon, Mrs. Allegro,” is mumbled, but it sounds like “’Noon Mr. Alleg…” She frowns even more.
“I said, good afternoon, class,” she says loudly, tapping a stick against the desk and scratching her long nails on the chalkboard. We all jump. “Sound alive! Wake up, children.” If there’s anything the students hate more than being in school, it’s being called children – and the teachers know it.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Allegro,” the class resounds.
Mrs. Allegro teaches art. This year, we have twenty projects, but they all stem from this one topic we’re given at the beginning of the year. Mrs. Allegro read this book about a girl and her art teacher gives them a topic that they use all year. I think it’s cool, but it’s going to get really boring on a few weeks.
Mrs. Allegro has a cool job – all she does is do art, and how cool is that? Pretty cool. She hands around a huge bucket. I don’t blame her – there’s like forty people in our class. It’s my turn. I reach my hand in and pull out an innocent looking paper that Mrs. Allegro says “holds our destiny”. She hits my hand and grabs my paper, putting it back in the bucket. She winks and I wonder what she is up to.
“Now some of you have feelings instead of objects,” she explains.
“Oh, Romeo,” someone groans. It’s Sam – Sam the Blockhead Jock. Also known in cheerleader language as Sam-the-Hottest-Guy-on-the-Football-Team; they don’t call him anything else, unless he’s in their presence – in which case they stutter like bumbling baboons. I don’t get how a sophomore is one of the most popular guys in the school. But, then, there’s the ‘story’. Apparently, two years ago was the last time we had a real football team – a team that won things. Last year’s seniors were the soccer champs.
“What?” Mrs. Allegro says, snapping up his paper. “Oh,” she says. “Sam has love letter everyone.” There’s a collective laugh from the class. Sam rolls his eyes and starts laughing with his stupid jock friends: Randy, Quinton, Derek, Kandy, and Blake. These six jocks are cute, but their brains and good manners have been fried in video games, cheerleaders’ miniskirts, and their own self glory.
“There’s a catch,” Mrs. Allegro announces. “I didn’t make enough ideas for all of you.” The class groans again. This ought to be good. “All of you, get into partners.” Everyone stands up and shuffles. I go to my biggest fan, Jamie.
“You are so weird,” she says with a smile by way of greeting. I grin back. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“Okay, class,” Mrs. Allegro says, clapping her hands. “Now turn around.” We all turn around. Jamie’s with Kandy and I’m with… Sam the Blockhead Jock. Oh no. “You’ve just met your new partner.” I groan and raise my hand.
“Yes, Miss Whitehouse?” she asks.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t partner with him,” I say, pointing my thumb back at Sam the Blockhead Jock.
“And why not?” she says inquisitively.
“Because I speak alien,” I say. The class breaks out laughing.
“That holds consequence?” she asks.
“It means I can’t talk to this idiot,” I reply. Now, Mrs. Allegro laughs and the rest of the class is silent. You could hear a cricket sing or a pin drop if you really wanted to. The cheerleaders are in the front right of the classroom and they’re all gapping – I want to tell them that, yes, I just dissed their beloved obssession.
“Take your seat, Scarlet,” Mrs. Allegro says, chuckling.
“But –,” I say, just for the sake of argument.
“I’m sure you don’t have to talk idiot,” she replies. “Or, if you do, you can just get a translator.”
“Nice,” I say, nodding.
“Thanks,” she says, winking at me. Mrs. Allegro and I have always been on good terms. Meanwhile, Sam the Blockhead Jock is trying to figure out that we insulted him. Jamie, who’s still sitting next to me, looks at me and grins.
“I think he’s burning his hair trying to work out what I said,” I whisper to Jamie. She giggles.
“I bet,” she whispers back.
Mrs. Allegro starts handing out paper and tells us to converge and produce some ‘super’ ideas. This is going to be the worst class of the year.
“You know,” Sam the Blockhead Jock says, moving his desk closer to mine, “I’m not that bad.” I roll my eyes in his face.
“Yeah right,” I say. “And I’m a supermodel.”
CONTEMPLATION
Sam the Blockhead Jock really bothered me. I’m no supermodel, by the way; in fact, quite the opposite. Yeah, that’s right, I’m fat – but who cares? I’m not counting pounds or meals. The teachers claim that it’s my “knowledge of self” that makes me comfortable with my body.
Excuse my language, but I think that’s bull as well.
Yeah, I’m ugly; yeah, I’m not changing myself; yeah, the “teasing” hurts sometimes; no, I can’t do anything about it. Why show weakness? What’s the point? If I let them know it hurts, then I get hurt more – it’s not like sympathy – ugh – exists anymore. Note to self: Never show weakness.
Yes, I live by that – never show weakness… It’s the best saying that ever happened to me. My parents are at a loss. They think I’m so strong even when, sometimes, I just want to fall apart.
The only, only person I’ve ever told about my “problems” is Martyn. He’s a tall, lean emo-ish kid. He hangs in the halls and everybody assumes he’s going to have a breakdown and create a gun-scenario in our school. I don’t think it’s true, but you never know.
THE BIGGEST LIE THEY EVER TELL YOU IN YOUR LIFE:
Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you.
Punch the person you next catch saying that, will you? They are liars and fakers. And, chances are, they don’t know what you’re talking about. High school is supposed to be a chance to grow and find your niche, but most of the time, you just find people you don’t want to hang with. Genius.
ONE QUESTION: Am i a little too cynical??? I'm pouring all my anger into this one... maybe i need to calm down a tad...
Asiat
Featurette of the blog post: 50 Extra Pounds of Love
LOL I LOVE THIS ONE :D :D :D
HOMEROOM
It’s the first day of class, sophomore year. I have the same book bag that I had last year; but, unlike the cheerleaders, mine isn’t signed or doodled on by my friends. I crowd with the other students around the bulletin board of homeroom – hoping it looks like I’m popular. That’s when I read it.
ATTENTION!
DO YOU HAVE THE SELF-HATRED OF A WALNUT?
OR OF THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING?
LEARN HOW TO LOVE YOURSELF
MEETINGS IN MRS ALLEGRO’S ROOM
3:30-4:30
MONDAYS AND FRIDAYS
What kind of stupidity is that? “Learn how to love yourself,” yeah, that’s sure possible. What a joke. The bell rings and I take my seat for class.
8th PERIOD - ART
“Welcome back, students,” Mrs. Allegro greets warmly. She’s replied by a groan of kids who look like they haven’t slept in weeks; I’m among them. Mrs. Allegro frowns a little and says, “Good afternoon, class.”
“’Afternoon, Mrs. Allegro,” is mumbled, but it sounds like “’Noon Mr. Alleg…” She frowns even more.
“I said, good afternoon, class,” she says loudly, tapping a stick against the desk and scratching her long nails on the chalkboard. We all jump. “Sound alive! Wake up, children.” If there’s anything the students hate more than being in school, it’s being called children – and the teachers know it.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Allegro,” the class resounds.
Mrs. Allegro teaches art. This year, we have twenty projects, but they all stem from this one topic we’re given at the beginning of the year. Mrs. Allegro read this book about a girl and her art teacher gives them a topic that they use all year. I think it’s cool, but it’s going to get really boring on a few weeks.
Mrs. Allegro has a cool job – all she does is do art, and how cool is that? Pretty cool. She hands around a huge bucket. I don’t blame her – there’s like forty people in our class. It’s my turn. I reach my hand in and pull out an innocent looking paper that Mrs. Allegro says “holds our destiny”. She hits my hand and grabs my paper, putting it back in the bucket. She winks and I wonder what she is up to.
“Now some of you have feelings instead of objects,” she explains.
“Oh, Romeo,” someone groans. It’s Sam – Sam the Blockhead Jock. Also known in cheerleader language as Sam-the-Hottest-Guy-on-the-Football-Team; they don’t call him anything else, unless he’s in their presence – in which case they stutter like bumbling baboons. I don’t get how a sophomore is one of the most popular guys in the school. But, then, there’s the ‘story’. Apparently, two years ago was the last time we had a real football team – a team that won things. Last year’s seniors were the soccer champs.
“What?” Mrs. Allegro says, snapping up his paper. “Oh,” she says. “Sam has love letter everyone.” There’s a collective laugh from the class. Sam rolls his eyes and starts laughing with his stupid jock friends: Randy, Quinton, Derek, Kandy, and Blake. These six jocks are cute, but their brains and good manners have been fried in video games, cheerleaders’ miniskirts, and their own self glory.
“There’s a catch,” Mrs. Allegro announces. “I didn’t make enough ideas for all of you.” The class groans again. This ought to be good. “All of you, get into partners.” Everyone stands up and shuffles. I go to my biggest fan, Jamie.
“You are so weird,” she says with a smile by way of greeting. I grin back. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“Okay, class,” Mrs. Allegro says, clapping her hands. “Now turn around.” We all turn around. Jamie’s with Kandy and I’m with… Sam the Blockhead Jock. Oh no. “You’ve just met your new partner.” I groan and raise my hand.
“Yes, Miss Whitehouse?” she asks.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t partner with him,” I say, pointing my thumb back at Sam the Blockhead Jock.
“And why not?” she says inquisitively.
“Because I speak alien,” I say. The class breaks out laughing.
“That holds consequence?” she asks.
“It means I can’t talk to this idiot,” I reply. Now, Mrs. Allegro laughs and the rest of the class is silent. You could hear a cricket sing or a pin drop if you really wanted to. The cheerleaders are in the front right of the classroom and they’re all gapping – I want to tell them that, yes, I just dissed their beloved obssession.
“Take your seat, Scarlet,” Mrs. Allegro says, chuckling.
“But –,” I say, just for the sake of argument.
“I’m sure you don’t have to talk idiot,” she replies. “Or, if you do, you can just get a translator.”
“Nice,” I say, nodding.
“Thanks,” she says, winking at me. Mrs. Allegro and I have always been on good terms. Meanwhile, Sam the Blockhead Jock is trying to figure out that we insulted him. Jamie, who’s still sitting next to me, looks at me and grins.
“I think he’s burning his hair trying to work out what I said,” I whisper to Jamie. She giggles.
“I bet,” she whispers back.
Mrs. Allegro starts handing out paper and tells us to converge and produce some ‘super’ ideas. This is going to be the worst class of the year.
“You know,” Sam the Blockhead Jock says, moving his desk closer to mine, “I’m not that bad.” I roll my eyes in his face.
“Yeah right,” I say. “And I’m a supermodel.”
CONTEMPLATION
Sam the Blockhead Jock really bothered me. I’m no supermodel, by the way; in fact, quite the opposite. Yeah, that’s right, I’m fat – but who cares? I’m not counting pounds or meals. The teachers claim that it’s my “knowledge of self” that makes me comfortable with my body.
Excuse my language, but I think that’s bull as well.
Yeah, I’m ugly; yeah, I’m not changing myself; yeah, the “teasing” hurts sometimes; no, I can’t do anything about it. Why show weakness? What’s the point? If I let them know it hurts, then I get hurt more – it’s not like sympathy – ugh – exists anymore. Note to self: Never show weakness.
Yes, I live by that – never show weakness… It’s the best saying that ever happened to me. My parents are at a loss. They think I’m so strong even when, sometimes, I just want to fall apart.
The only, only person I’ve ever told about my “problems” is Martyn. He’s a tall, lean emo-ish kid. He hangs in the halls and everybody assumes he’s going to have a breakdown and create a gun-scenario in our school. I don’t think it’s true, but you never know.
THE BIGGEST LIE THEY EVER TELL YOU IN YOUR LIFE:
Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you.
Punch the person you next catch saying that, will you? They are liars and fakers. And, chances are, they don’t know what you’re talking about. High school is supposed to be a chance to grow and find your niche, but most of the time, you just find people you don’t want to hang with. Genius.
ONE QUESTION: Am i a little too cynical??? I'm pouring all my anger into this one... maybe i need to calm down a tad...
Asiat
Thursday, May 14, 2009
jumpingjellybeans13 sent you a video: "Spock/Uhura-18 Days- Star Trek(2009)"
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| jumpingjellybeans13 has shared a video with you on YouTube: yo yo ppls. ignore the music... but the scenes!!! MEMORABLE! NOTE(5/11/09) Thank you all so much! I've gotten 2 honors for this video. I didn't realize when I made this or Womanizer how quickly they would become popular. I'll make another Spock/Uhura video if there is interest for one. Just send me a message or leave one here. One of my favorite aspects of J.J. Abram's Star Trek is how he characterized Spock. The way Spock delt with his emotions that he had bound up since childhood is this cold calm demenor. That of course has always been Spock. But this film throws a monkey wrench into that equation- Uhura. I'm not a huge Trek fan, but I've been told they've never had a romance before. Anyway, I loved how Uhura was always there for the emotionally devote Spock. I think I squealed in the theatre when he let himself put his head on her should after the destruction of Vulcan. There relationship was such a great part of the film and I hope it is explored further in the rumored sequel. I noticed something the second time I watched the film th... more | |
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Tuesday, May 12, 2009
And Now, For Something Completely DIFFERENT!!!~
I'm glad ya'll enjoyed the Trekkie Post. I loved it too! BUT THIS IS SOOOO NEW!!!
Like no-one-never-heard-of-it-new-story. Currently titled: Oh He Was Beautiful (meaning comes later in the story) I'm pretty sure this is gonna be one of those semi-mushy mythologically-based (YES, VERY MUCH SO!!!) stories. I think it's soooo cool, but, then you are judges as well:
"Keep to the Shadows because
you know not
what lingers in the light…"
- Lord Shade
Perhaps it is foolish to say so, but love does strange things to people. I am known as Evelyn, Princess of the Shadow World. My mother is the Queen, known in the Over World as Penelope. And my father is known as Hades in the Over World. These are not their real names. My mother's real name is Penel and my father is Shade. Lord Shade.
My world is lost in shadows. Everything is grey and black. There is no color – no light. I have never been to the Over World. The few things that glitter here in the darkness are the stones. My father is Lord over the stones and rocks and dirt and the Dead. The Dead who come to my father's kingdom with gold on their eyes and underneath their tongue; people who once had lives but who come with no life and no color.
Things and people are so pale down here in the Underworld. It is dark and dank and dead. I have two true friends down here in the Underworld – Maxime and Cerberus. Maxime is a young woman who died during childbirth – she is just my age, just ten and six. She will get no older in this dark place, but nor will I. Cerberus may have a bad temper, but he is truly sweet and gentle – he would give his life for me.
Princess Evelyn, pretty Evelyn, wonderful Evelyn. Sometimes I get so sick of their lies. I cannot be pretty when I am as colorless as death. I cannot be wonderful if I cannot breathe in this must. My father says that I would burn in the sun if I went to the Over World. He says that there are bad people who would rob me of more than money. I do not believe him. I believe that anything would be better than living in this dark hole.
Penel, my mother, goes to her mother every six months to visit her mother. When she comes back she is brighter – like she has color. It is so beautiful. I wish I could go out so that I could get color. I wish I could run away and run free in a field and feel the sun on my face. My mother tells me such wonderful stories about the Over World and how beautiful and serene it is up there. How life is not consumed by death, but rather a celebration of life. How it is a cycle – birth, life, and death – in a winding dance that never seems to end.
How beautiful that sounds.
yeps, i kinda meander (puddle?) around the first chapter... but any takers??? vote yes or no or maybe if ya'll wanna see more!
*fumbles 'cuz she can't figure out how to do spock hands!!!*
*gives up*
Live long and prosper, buds.
Asiat
Monday, May 11, 2009
Trekkie Love <3 *SPOILER ALERT FOR PPL WHO HAVEN'T SEEN IT*
I'm currently regressing into my childhood state of Star-Trek-Lover! Maybe I should delve into P&P??? Possibly not... there's plently of goooooood mancandy in the new Star Trek movie (yeah, I saw it and LOVED it!!!)
Make sure none of you drool on the computer, loves. This is Chris Pine - a much much MUCH better Kirk than Willie Shatner (sorry Willie, ur just not as hot/young as Chris.)
and... My live-long-and-prosper buddie - SPOCK!!! (God, i always LOVED this dude - he was great :D) did you know that the actor is a Central Catholic Alumni??? ( I only know this because my bro told me.)
Apparently, he's 31 (hey, he graduated the year i was born... how koooool is that?)... Grad of CMU... blah blah blah... (another amazing fact... E.C.P.M. is hot for Spock.... lol, sorry hon, i had to say it!)
now, here's something I found, like, seriously AWESOME!!!
But there aren't many pics of it... :(
CAPTION: Spock & Uhura (i check the spelling!!!) love. Lol.. it's sweeet.
REALLY??? Is that all i could find??? sadly - after half an hour of surfing too. grrr. maybe i can find a thing for it on utube.... i'll post it if i find it.
AN a question... does anyone remember Uhura's first name???
All my love,
Asiat
Thursday, May 7, 2009
jumpingjellybeans13 sent you a video: "The Roses of Success"
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| jumpingjellybeans13 has shared a video with you on YouTube: FOR VORTICAN!!!! | |
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Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Concerning FoRM(al) Requests & Updates
thanks Vortican for the FoRM pun. 'tis true, 'tis true, if you want the rest of FoRM - the 1st draft, you're going to have to email a FoRM(al) request to me. Ya'll know my email (if ya don't, text, Facebook, MySpace, email, or comment for it!)
Concerning the updates: FoRM is currently under construction - i.e. the second draft. All Tess/Adam fluffiness has been removed (*much hoorahs from Tess/Adyin and Tonia/Adam shippers!!!) Some characters (like Angel, Tess's younger, more comedic brother, and Adyin's crazy (in a bad way) Auntie Claire) will be introduced.
ALSO: SoED (Sphinx of the Egyptian Desert) is under way!!! first draft of book the second!!! YAHOOOOOOO!!!!
In addition, as soon as I send off Vortican's FoRM(al) request, we'll be getting some character sketches and (hopefully) a book cover. If not, I'll employ Joey and E.C.P.M. to help!!!
That's all for now, hons.
Luck and Love,
Asiat
Concerning the updates: FoRM is currently under construction - i.e. the second draft. All Tess/Adam fluffiness has been removed (*much hoorahs from Tess/Adyin and Tonia/Adam shippers!!!) Some characters (like Angel, Tess's younger, more comedic brother, and Adyin's crazy (in a bad way) Auntie Claire) will be introduced.
ALSO: SoED (Sphinx of the Egyptian Desert) is under way!!! first draft of book the second!!! YAHOOOOOOO!!!!
In addition, as soon as I send off Vortican's FoRM(al) request, we'll be getting some character sketches and (hopefully) a book cover. If not, I'll employ Joey and E.C.P.M. to help!!!
That's all for now, hons.
Luck and Love,
Asiat
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