Ode To BBC (and pumpkin pie)

Saturday night, watching PBS
Hoping to see BBC at its best.
I fall asleep in a pumpkin patch,
and run into a white wigged Mr. Cumberbatch

Saw Miss Marple walking down the lane,
and Captin Hastings on a window pane.
Poirot and his cane came putsing by,
and I saw Lizzy Bennet laughing, making mud pies

Saturday night, and I flip on the television,
hoping to see some British BBC presicion.
I go Sherlocking with a few of my friends,
with visions of Cranford people dancing in our heads.

Poirot trims his mustache,
and the 39 steps match,
Jane Austen writes amazing guys
I sit and eat pumpkin pie
Skander when he's little
Sherlock cannot play the fiddle
I find a cumberbatch
sitting in a pumpkin patch
eating eggs benedict
Cranford Christmas candles lit
All my favorite characters
from BBC wear parachutes
we all land in a pumpkin sky
Lets watch! Please pass the pumpkin pie

Bleach

Sometimes I like bleaching pictures a lot and this is how this one turned out with some tweaking

I'm working on my surprise for Felicia right now... ahhh so much to do!!! But of course its all fun =P

Kinesthetic Thinking

I will post this as soon as I am done with my two papers for Mr. W's photography class...

Well, hello m'dears =) Yesterday, I was toying with the word "kinesthetic" (which I was spelling incorrectly as kenesthetic, though I like that spelling more). I knew this word from school because they are always talking about being kinesthetic learners, which I understood as hands on learning. I began to recall "kinetic" energy, which is physics, action or motion (the actual motary force to move), and wondered if the two words were related. Interestingly enough, they are. Kinesthetic is the "being aware" of causing motion and "kinetic" is motion. I had written a phrase that really came off the cuff and out of nowhere which was "kinesthetic and ghostly apparitions." I always find this part of things intersting, you might say I'm an amature philiologist (one who studies words). I often go after a sound in my writing where even if you don't know the meaning of the exact word, you get a feeling for the definition just by the setting and the sound. I was thinking of a thought, more of a vapor of a thought or vision, in a motion, the literall "spinning of the wheels" in your head, which is what the word translates to in that sentence. I find it so cool that the sound I went after actually matched with the meaning I was thinking! I know, I'm a word geek... =P Anywho, I wrote a poem to go along with this. Its a bit abstract, but since being kinesthetic is being aware of motion you are causing and the space and motion around you, I would say I think kinesthetically, and I want to keep learning this way, being aware of all the things, people, and windows God wants to show me. So here goes.

Kinethiesia :

One step at a time

Drawing invisible lines

We pass by and in our motion

We both get the notion we freeze

And our sense of space

Is completely erased

One more dimension

But we mention only the breeze

Trying to keep this all locked up inside

Will drive us both completely insane

This is bigger than the entire blue skyline

Of beauty love life and pain

Kinesthetic and ghostly

Apparitions of who we both want to be

We can forget this if we really try

But to forget is to give up and die

And I don't wanna break the peace

I wanna find out who I'm s'posed to be

So aware of our time in space

Relative to only us two

This is beyond the age of typical

And coming in to the difficult

But beautiful

And I'm willing to try

I'm a Kinesthetic learner

And I'll be aware of the Turner

Of our page

But you can't just stare and laugh at me

At that rate you'll never get to where your supposed to be

Tell me what you see

Can you tell me the mystery of love?
What accident is it made up of?
Can you tell me why our eyes sparkle like they do?
Can you explain to me why they cry too?
Its no accident that we have so many questions
See the love of our creator was to give us all decisions
And all that I have seen just through these human eyes
Tells me accidents are plainly just the lies
So take them back to where you got them
Return them back to Sodom
and restore the faith that once was yours
and weep with eyes that long to see more
Love your neighbor as yourself
when you look at them see farther then shells
Open up the door behind their eyes
and find out what is worthy inside
if you see a light burning through their eyes
and your heart's filled with love then pray for their sight
pray that they'll see
and pray that they'll find
what they are looking for
and find the Father of Lights

Just Really Writing

I wrote this for school, and my prof liked it, so I thought I'd post it. I finally came up with a fair example of "modern" writing vs. "classic" writing!

Journal: Week 10
Being a creative writer at heart, I enjoyed the first essay most. I love describing things, especially memories, as I’ve said before. I remember the transition phase from my middle school to high school writing. “At last,” I thought “I can actually say what I mean!” Finally, I could describe things in a way that made others feel what I felt and see what I saw without resorting to the “script writing” I see so much of these days in modern writing. People think they have to spell out everything for you, for example “he picked up the paper and rubbed his chin. Then he slowly walked over to the door and opened it thinking about what he had just read” vs. “He picked up the paper and thoughtfully read its contents before leaving the room, pondering what he had read.” It paints the same picture, or feeling at least, but doesn’t load down the imagination of the reader with trivial drivel. That’s the genius of writing! You can use just a few words to create a vivid scene that the reader, not the writer generates by imagination. I tend to be a little wordy (I’ve been pretty careful since my first essay not to write excessively) so I was proud of my last essay because I felt that I was more succinct and direct with my words. I enjoy argumentative writing as well, especially when I have a strong opinion about something. Really I enjoy writing about things I feel passionately about, whether it be something I like or detest. I always notice that if I don’t feel anything for a particular subject that I am forced to write about, my writing lags considerably. I have not yet mastered the “science” of a good paper. Frankly I’m not sure I want to, there’s something so cold and calculating about a “good” paper with no lifeblood in it. When I write, I feel as though I want to capture a star, burn it with a sunset and set it as a bangle around someone’s heart like a blazing brand forever printed on their mind. If no one will remember it, if it will not help, correct, uplift, shame, brighten, or endear someone or something, is it worth being written? The trick then is to make everything I write, no matter how trivial or quantified it might be, a brand that sticks in someone’s mind.

Character Observation: Me

Alright, I promised a friend to do a character observation of myself and then of her, so here goes.

I am slightly non-conventional, partly because I see the world a little different than most and partly because I want to be. I take pride in being different and therefore being myself. My taste in fashion and accesories is plain, whispy, and earthy in color although I can dress more sharp or soft. I am also not afriad to try new outfits that might actually be terrible. I don't care much. If its comfortable and I like it, others opinions don't really matter... except that of my Mother's who often tells me "...no..." I haven't got that many friends, but I'm not hungry for society. I like being around people, but not nesescarily talking to them, especially if we are not like-minded. If I do talk, I tend to talk a LOT, especailly when I'm nervous. I have tried to cast off age and become sort of an ageless person, which I think I have suceeded at. I've always wanted to remain a child, but a wise child. I am sort of an elder figure to all those around me, and oddly enough I find solace in leading and proctecting people, but I can also submit fairly easily when I think another can lead well. I am a very daydreamy person, and the one thing I have tried to master is my mind. That is my vice and enemy. It can carry me away to meladramatic or silly pursuits, or the destruction of people and I can think I am great when I am not. I am probably a little more complex than most believe and a little more simple than I believe. I really have not got much aspiration to marry, and for awhile I thought that this was better than me wanting to marry, but now I see that it is just different. Some people were meant to taste different things, and stand on different shores. It doesn't make one sad, or one better, they are only different. I'm not career minded per -say, but I want to DO lots of things with my life. I would like to be someone creative and fun and easy-going and deep minded and simple and in love with Jesus. That is much easier said than done. I am trying to be more truthful with myself and everyone around me, because I used to build up this mirage that I was perfect, and I try not to do that anymore. On the days that my skin is bad I wear glasses. When I'm especailly happy and aware of it, I move my jaw side to side. When I'm being dramatic I squint my left eye. After watching a movie that I particularly enjoyed, I tend to take on the charactaristics or actions of a certain character. I love writing. I try not to be too bossy. I am more fearful of paperwork and driving than I am of robbers and battles (no joke). Did I say I love writing? My mind set is often this... Me in a green dress, wind whipping all round me, standing on the edge of a sort of cliff, and looking straight into the sun without it hurting my eyes. I love looking at bright lights because it reminds me of heaven, and the fact that I can't look at them pains not only my eyes but in an odd little way breaks my heart. My favorite author is C.S Lewis. I try so hard now not to MAKE myself stand out because I think differently to get attention, but just to enjoy my differences quietly and bring them out only when they will help others and not elevate me. Ah, pride, you've got to slay it! I'm so glad for my family and my very best friend Felicia, who has put up with me and I hope to know on into eternity.

Today's Scribblings

From "Annani" chapter 12.5 (kinda...)

Early the next morning, Tessa was aroused by a familiar voice, whispering "Tessabethia! Tessabethia! You must wake up!" She shivered with cold as she cast off the heavy, warm blankets around her and wobbled her way out of the tent. "Sir Hrans!" she cried and flew to embrace him. A spout of questions came regarding the Annanians and how he had come across the line, but he held up his hand for silence. "Larkie you must listen to me. Put on a cloak with a well made visor that you can see through and change into these," here he held up a tunic and spocks (light pants). "As soon as you have done so, meet me by the campfire, and do not make much noise. I should like to have a word with you before the others wake."

"Yes sir," she whispered and took the clothes. Once she was fairly disguised, she donned a cloak with an almost stiff opaque visor that allowed her to see out, but no else in to see much of her face. Then, she slipped from the tent into the night and met Hrans by the fire as instructed. "Hrans, what am I to do?" she asked, a bit afraid, a little petrified, and very curious.

Hrans stared into the fire for some moments before turning to answer her, and when he did speak it was not exactly an answer.

"Tessabethia, are you afraid to fight? To really fight evil when it comes tooth and nail, fist and fire to rid the world of evil, are you afraid?" Tessa's eyes looked like a tremerous liquid in the firelight and she thought on this for a moments time. Then, her eyes resolution and her mind clarity. She looked into Hrans' eyes and said smilingly, solemnly, quietly, "no."

"Why do you not fear?" asked Hrans, his question cutting between the mortar of her mind.

"Because my master is greater than this present darkness." She said this, and she said it well, but she felt something unreadable give out in her heart and saw something equally unreadable in the corners of Hrans eyes, but he said no more. Instead, he explained, at least in part the plan which would unfold that morning.

"You are to speak to no one, and if you must speak, keep your voice hushed. You must become invisible and become someone else to the crowd; you must be another soldier. "

"But what am I to do?" Tessa asked, slightly apprehensive at striding into the unknown.

"That I do not know, though I have guess." He looked thoughtful for a minute. "You must have patience Lark, patience and a quiet spirit. Listen carefully for his voice. He will tell you what you are to do, but you must not allow yourself to get in the way of your heart's ears." Tessa's brow furrowed. She did not much like the idea of marching into an army camp to do something, but having no idea what that something might be. Hrans directed her to the path she was to take to reach the clearing where the army was gathering.

"Keep going straight and soon you'll see the light breaking up through the clearing." She could already see that the last of the night was fading and blue patches were showing up clearly through the trees overhead. She warmly bade him farewell and he smiled somberly. As soon as distance erased her from view, he returned to the camp, sat with his back to the fire, and closed his eyes.


Tessa picked her way through the forest, keeping in a straight line as best she could. This became more difficult as she made her way further into the brush. Suddenly, she felt as though she had perhaps wandered off in the wrong direction. Maybe she was going deeper and deeper into the dark and farther away from the sun. This had an intense effect on her, perhaps a great deal more intense then the effect it would have on you or I. She had always enjoyed wide open spaces and sunlight; sunlight on everyside, pouring through everything, blazing on everything. But here it was dark. She began to feel claustrophobic as one feels in a closet. Then she saw something flicker, like a pair of unwelcome eyes and panic smote her. She picked up her cloak and began to run, but the faster she ran, the more noises she heard. She could hear clattering and crackling from behind her and whizzing all about her. She tripped on a root and lay still, a pain numbing her left toe where she had stubbed it and her cold hands scratched by dry earth began to sting. As she lay there she began to feel a dim solitude. She felt that things, dark things, were all over and around her, watching her. This was what the Darkness had intented; to paralyze her with fear. Then, she heard a sigular sound that cleared her head quite a bit and she raised her head up. Had she ever heard a bell chime, she would have thought it sounded something of the sort, only it was not random but deeply melodic. It was unlike any song she had ever heard, but she felt as though she knew the song. It had a tinge of something that singed her heart. "I have forgotten You," she whispered aloud. She was speaking to Meihlu. "I have been thinking only of my own strength." She felt ashamed. Then the note, or the song, or the chime came again. She began to look around, now not fearing anything dark, even it was there. The corner of her mouth broke into a smile, and as she asked forgiveness, she felt her heart grow lighter and she gathered herself. She was silent for a moment and forgot all else but the One who was close by. She began looking through the branches of trees and through to the sky as though she might find him. "Take my pride and bind it here Dear One." She bounded over a log and began making her way to the camp now lighter of heart and foot, no longer alone.

Lark

I looked deep into your eyes so wide
and found them a'spark to with tears you'd cried
A gauzy film that made them grey
but you tried so hard to find your own way

I was far from you but I heard the news
that your heart was raw and you had choose
hard choices that would make some callused
but you my lark, with broke wings fought for balance

You wiped your eyes dry and sang a little tune
I could hear it in your sighs, through the trees, in the moon
A ragged heavy breath masked with delicate pride
A wandering hope of Some Other side

So easily broken a heart my little lark
So easily mislead into the grey mist of dark
But you fight it best you can with eyes so teary
And you fight to keep up your spirits now so weary

I hear a song bursting through the dark
the song is the melody and rhyme of your heart
And the song is sad and the song is true
And my heart is filled with longing for you
Because I hear Him calling you from the other side
and the Song of your Heart was the one that broke mine.

Catacherizing

What is Catacherizing? It is catagorizing characters for anylisis. You can do this to anyone you know and it might help you to get to know them a little better. But please remember, a character and a person is individual. They might do crazy "out of character" things, and thats fine. Catacherizing will help you really flesh out a character and help you write those little things that a character does that endears them or makes you hate their presence.

Part 1: Stereotypes and Subtypes

I'm sure we've all done this. You look at someone and make a judgement. This can be either good or bad. While not being over-general or narrow-minded, we can't deny that people types don't exist. Thats where character comes from. What "kind" of a person are you? I have always found school sterotypes rather amusing, but I have now found that they help me to analyze my characters. I call them the Preps, the Geeks, the Emos and the Freaks. Maybe you're beginning to see where I'm going. Only I want to analyze much deeper than choice of wardrobe. A "Prep" by clothes might actually be an Emo under further examination.As much as possible, you want to analyze actions and feelin gs, which help us to follow thought and further understand a character. Let's begin...

Preps: These can be particularaly perky people. They usually are trendy, know what to say, and have lots of friends buzzing around them. They can be easily offended, and have a tendency to strike back. They become more irritated than truly angered. This sometimes stems from being hurt themselves. Many times a prep is a rather shallow minded person, or sigularly goaled and materialistic (relationships included). Often they run to busyness to help heal a pain and don't like to deal with things in life that they find emotionally/spiritually difficult. Hiding behind a bright smile, the deeper minded preps can often become sad because their lives seem meaningless. Then the cycle begins again as they run back to their "things." Preps who have learned that life is more than stuff are usually happy, carefree people, who don't take life too deep.

Geeks:"underlings" These folks are those that are misfits for one reason or another. They usually are more soft-spoken and quietly follow their goals. Often, they think a bit too much about what people think of them, but if they learn to go on no matter what, they often succeed dispite the odds. They accept people for who they are, and sometimes need to be wiser about who they hang with, but if they are wise, they gain truer friends than most. The dark side of the geek is a sinister one that can quietly build a net around others to gain power. Geeks are often submissive, but when they stand, a revival may soon follow.

Emos: These people are non-conventional, half-glass folks. While many people may become depressed, these people may live in a sort of state of depression which they find comfortable. They are usually sensitive, easily moved people, who either deny their feelings and blank out or dive headfirst into feeling everything so that their emotions crush them. They can be very artistic or mathmatic. They tend to think outside of the box and often clash ideas with those around them. They can be stubborn and set in their ways, and are not usually submissive; more angular than curved thinkers. They are a little hard to get to know, but very loyal.

Freaks: Freaks are those who care very little about what people think of them. They move forward despite what anyone says, sometimes out of rebellion and other times out of conviction. These people tend to be the leaders, or those that people turn to in time of crisis. They may seemed removed from the bulk of society and culture which they deem silly. They may be cast out of a society or choose to leave. They can be incredibly good or intensely evil. They can also be simply carefree, thinking deeply but resting on greater things.

These are just a few stereotypes, and I'll try to write up some more tomorrow. Make up your own and write them down on here. Making up new catacherisms really helps to solidify and pin point characters in your own mind. Tell me what you think!

Happy November 14th! For those of us who like to prolong our holiday spirit, start listening to Christmas music at http://www.cbn.com/radio/

The Wonderful Wizard of Words

I have decided that I will try to keep up a public blog. I tend to deviate on the topic of life, since it is so very broad and I have SO MANY exciting things that happen in my life (too bad I don't have a sarcastic emoticon =P ). Anywho, I will be writing on this blog as a writer. Currently my goal is to be finished with the first draft of my first book by January 1st. Heaven knows, I'll fail. No, I won't say that. I've got to succeed. There's no other way out of this! I'm commited!

All right. For those of you who don't know my life's ambitions and goals, which would be just about everyone, sometimes including myself, I want to be known as someone who told a good story, and who was completly consumed with God's love and the love of God. I would also like to learn how to pluck a chicken and build a log cabin. But seriously, I believe that I was given a pen to wield and a mind to move it. With this pen, and with stories He will teach myself and others about His love, His plans for us, and the marvoulous gifts of life and victory He has given us. I will not, I cannot live a boring life. I care very little for monetary success, but I do want to leave beautiful chaos in my wake. I want to stir up the people, to cause them to lift their eyes toward Heaven. If by God's might I can do this one thing, then I will have succeeded.

But for now, hold on tight, and prepare yourself to see the world through my eyes (and I have to warn you, my vision is a little blurry, but no matter! When I wake and look around, I see no blemishes. Everything is in soft focus.) My little brother is reading over my shoulder, looking up at me whenever I stop typing. This is very odd. Normally my pen stares back up at me.

Speaking of which, did you know November is one of the busiest writers months? So if you know a writing friend, and they are acting a little crazy, its not you, its just NOVEMBER.

Happy November 12th! Celebrate by matching together a pair of socks for tomorrow!