Thursday, November 28

Random Musings - Catching Fire, Writing, and Scremo

I hate when your dreams become so vivid, you wake up crying and whimpering in the morning. I hate when you have to spend the rest of the day convincing yourself they aren't real, even though half of you believes it was. Who needs sleep anyway?.. Sleep is stupid.
I need to see a doctor.

   Recently I've actually broken through a writers block issue I've been suffering from, (call it my disease). I've been writing like crazy, and It feels amazing! I've learned to just accept that my first draft will be a pile of rubbish which I will probably end up only using 1/4th of, but that's just the process of writing! I think a partial reason for the ice breaker was the book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and life by Anne Lamott, it had that last straw effect into my reappearance into the world of writing.

On top of all that I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge how devastatingly beautiful catching fire was. I absolutely loved every moment of it. More than a few times I found myself wishing it would just keep playing forever, I didn't want it to end! In comparison with the book, it was surprisingly accurate. The visible view of tension between the capital and the districts was stunning, and so articulately filmed that it captured a feeling of rebellion I've rarely seen in movies before. Let's just say I can't wait for the next one, (which I hear will be split into two books).

If your a big fan of both Studio Ghibli and enjoy screamo, I've become addicted to this band called Imaginary Flying Maching (get it?). I'm in love with it! (My parents are not, as well as my sisters who now refer to my already crazied music selections as 'that stuff you listen too'.) IT'S JUST SO BEAUTIFUL FAMILY. So much raw emotion.. Here is a link to one of my favorite if you want to check it out, (and join in  my obsession, muwhaha).

The HTML link unfortunately doesn't work, so I apologize on behalf of the uninteresting blue words versus an actual inserted video.

So, that's all for now. I hope you all enjoy your thanksgiving!

Saturday, November 16

Without You


I think I understand now.
We are all walking on a cloud made of fractured diamond.
At any moment, we could slip-
and destroy the glowing bonds around us.
Everything is so fragile,
tinkering to the sound of our beating hearts-
waiting for those thoughts to become the enemy.
In between the cracks, the darkness stirs below-
and we fear it.
Fear what will happen when our feet finally penetrate the threads holding us up.
We fear falling-
Shattering this shiny sphere. 

And that's when I look up,
when my eyes break away from the abyss below.
That's when I realize-
I'm the only one standing here.
I don't know where you disappeared to,
but you left long ago.
All those times you never said what you should have-
and all the times you spoke words that shook the very lining we stood on-
all the times I fell in love-
Were lies.
and I know exactly why,
it's because I made them.
I made them.
I made them to cover up the pain-
to create the hallucination-
that you were still standing just where I left you.
and now as I stare at the crumbled glass where you once stood,
I feel the hollowness inside my heart.
The hollowness I've been feeling for so long.
And I remember,
remember how your lips traced the words: "I'm sorry-
it's to late."

My eyes well in tears,
my heart beats a sick, twisted, loping drum.
I don't want it to be true-
I don't want to acknowledge the absolute silence of this wretched place,
I want to forget it all-
Just as I always have.
I want to-
My eyes close, there are no more tears.
I can't.
Not this time.
I want this to stop,
(so badly),
I want to leave.
(I have to leave.)
I want to leave this desolate place-
the place I've filled with the thoughts I wish you would have said-
the place where pain still fogs the air in a fresh ruby spray.
I created this,
for you.
So that I could still hold you against my heart-
but now it's over.
And so now...
I jump.

And the world shatters in a wave of white wings. 

 I know.

Wednesday, November 13

4 Reasons Why Not to Fall for a Book Character


Admit it, you've done it just as much as I have.  How could you possibly resist that sexy smirk, or sauntering walk? How could your breath NOT be sucked away at the sight of him battling hordes of ugly creatures without breaking a sweat. His poetic speech, flawless grammar. It's more than you ever thought could possibly exist! How could you not help falling in love with him the moment he walked into the room and then spending every waking second mulling over the words he last spoke; anxiously waiting for the next moment you can quietly sink back into the corner and again be reunited. There is one small, practically irreverent problem-

he lives inside of a book... 

   If you suffer from this rather common form of 'Fictional Mooning', rest assured that your not alone. However, just because your not alone doesn't change the fact that this relationship you have is going to crash and burn. One of you is going to end up back on the shelf, and the other, enduring the rest of their lonely existence alone... You might be thinking that I could never understand what you two have. You spend sleepless nights pouring over his words (never receiving a reply), your life for the past few years has slowly gravitated around him, he is all you can talk about. Deep inside, (very deep), you know that he loves you just as much as you love him.
   If those thoughts struck a cord with you, stop a moment and read these words carefully. Your under an alluring, easily susceptible spell woven by magicians (who are known in their mortal forms as authors). Let me break some cold hard facts to you about the relationship, (Fictional Mooning), your under.

 Its a one sided relationship, he doesn't know you exist.
 You know how your plans for the two of you to travel to Hogwarts during the spring failed because he never showed up? Remember the wedding dress you bought when he inadvertently proposed? Remember that time you spent the whole night asking him if something was wrong, and never received a reply? Yeah, it's because he didn't even know you made them. Though you may be communicating just fine, his attitude towards you will always remain the same - indifferent. The hard truth of the matter is that no matter how much you flaunt around to catch his attention, the separation between you and him is the span of a thick, paper book. One that he can't see you through. Any attachments you make between the two of you will be but empty gestures to him.

No matter how much time you dedicate to him, 
he is always going to walk off with some other girl.
   All those survivors of  'Fictional Mooning' can easily relate to this. You spend hours, and I mean HOURS, pouring over every move, ever word he ever speaks. You analyze his flaws and strengths, you brag constantly about him to your friends. He is the only one who can make you feel better after a long day, he's the one you go to first when you have a problem. You depend upon him, you listen to him, you wish you could drop the insignificant life around you just to clutch the pages he resides in. However, no matter how many pages you flip back, he always ends up leaving you and walking away with some other girl. Never, in the history of 'Fictional Mooning' has there been a different outcome. The statistics are at an undeniable 100% probability, and if you think your case is different, think again. You know those millions of other girls who used to hang over his every word? What happened to them?...
They're in their bedrooms cursing his name. That's what.

There is such a thing as unattainably perfect.
I mean, your amazing right? Why wouldn't he fall for you the moment you laid eyes on him. Half the world is swooning in a dead slump to the ground over him, but they aren't you. Your different. While their infatuation will eventually fade over the years you have a dedication which cannot be challenged by earthly restraints. You were 'meant' for each other, what more could he ask for? He is perfect, every aspect of him akin to an almost godly perfection. He radiates a zeal and enticement that no one else has ever managed to capture. He is so perfect that.... it's almost creepy. He hasn't a flaw you don't know down to the dot, he hasn't a quality you haven't adored in leisure. Then again, is perfection really what you want? If being human means we must make mistakes, what happens when his every mistake seems to be a calculated flaw? Does that make him... Inhuman? In other words, is he really real after all?...

-and yes, that's David Tennant whom we ALL love.

Your absolutely, without a doubt, doomed to a tragic relationship break up.
In the end, after all the un-returned calls, slammed covers, covert ignoring from across the room, and the fraternizing with other fictional characters; one way or another you will eventually come to the conclusion (that all Fictional Mooners) come to. He doesn't care about you as much as you care about him. No matter how much you try and shove this truth in his face he'll keep on going through the same motions of before, like he didn't hear a word you just said.  The worst part? He won't even give you the decency of a 'goodbye', or 'I'm sorry'. It will just be you. Alone. Sobbing as he moves into the next volume without you.

   To your horror, by now you may have identified yourself as a 'Fictional Mooner'. Let me feebly caution you against this, as I struggle with my last horribly messy fictional breakup. No matter how much charm he layers on, RESIST THE TEMPTATION. Avoid the blissful heart break you'll relive moving onto the next published book and live your life in solitude.

My Current 'Fictional Mooning':

1.Connor Lassiter (Unwind)
2.Hanson Alister (The seven realms)
3.Kelsier, known as the Survivor of Hathsin (Mistborn)
4.Murtagh Morzansson (Eragon)
5. James (Mind Games)

Tuesday, November 12

Random Musings

Based on the poll results asking what you guys would like to see more of, Random Musings won! Here goes then.

So, on my first day off from school I end up getting sick; over home-worked by my insane teachers, (meaning, no break at all.); betrayed by my mutinous fridge; and subject to just about every other possible thing that could have gone wrong for that month. At the end of this exhausting day? I'm actually alright! Surprisingly I seem to work more calmly when things are going really badly, verses sort of bad. So to celebrate my sniveling alrightness adorned in slimy tissues, here comes another round of photo updates and random musings! You might wonder why I keep doing this (besides the poll vote), since It's not like they contribute much to anything constructive. Honestly though, this blog has become a sort of journal for me, a place where I can just write what's on my mind. What's more, I enjoy photography so why not add that to my already expanding archives?

*Bloodcurdling loud fan girl scream* LOOK WHAT WAS IN AN AMERICAN NEWSPAPER SITTING ON MY TABLE THIS MORNING! My equally obsessed sister and I happened to see this news article at the same moment on Sunday morning. As expected, we both launched across our dining room table during breakfast, screaming our heads off and making wild gestures at Matt's face. Our parents nearly spilled their cereal.

   Since I seem to be on a renovation phase of just about everything, my closet was next in line to feel my wrath. Where would I be without Pininterest? Again, my fandoms are pretty obvious in the small clip of my wall shown below, (couldn't fit the whole wall into the focus without giving away my name, sorry guys, wouldn't want to lose that mysterious factor...)

   Recent band obsession? KYO, which is actually a French speaking group. This just makes me feel even more ridiculous for taking Spanish over Japanese or French. I mean, those two languages would have been so much more productive! (Excluding the fact that half my city speaks Spanish.) Still, I could have listened to my usual music selections and actually understood them!

   Some art I sketched out last week. (Right before I got sick. Haha.) Males are unfortunately not a strong suit of mine so the little dude on the left of the picture had part of his head chopped off. (I apologize little dude). The whole piece actually tells a story, (from my novel), but instead of divulging that I'll just let you make of it what you will. Sadly I don't have a scanner at home that actually 'works', so I end up having to just take pictures of my work.
   Random side note: Just to throw in some past art, I've included some projects I drew a while ago.

   So this pretty much concludes my uncharacteristically short musings post. (Impressive, huh?) I guess I'm just to exhausted to write my usual ten pages. (I'm JUST KIDDING.) Thanks for reading, and commenting on my posts! It always makes me so happy to know that someone else actually enjoys my thoughts. Thanks again!

Monday, November 11

Empty Bodies

Empty bodies.
The hearts have burnt out of us.
The rain is fire
an astigmatism through which we can't see.
Purple wings of desire
twist dully in the atmosphere.
We just want to feel again.

Consolation is a shadow
fastened to our backs,
its eating out our souls
burning all that's left.
Without our beating hearts,
we're hollow
We are what is left.
Empty bodies.
Your power is in Nature

Friday, November 8

"I wish I had let myself enjoy life more."

Christmas Dinner
   Sometimes you can see the look; sometimes you can even feel the emotion quietly pulsing from those under its spell. It’s a look so serene and peaceful, so utterly detached and removed, that it makes you feel rather grounded in comparison. As you watch them, their eyes filled with tenderness and an almost unearthliness, it’s almost as though you’re intruding on something intimate, and yet completely natural.
   So what is it then? What is the look that comes upon a person watching a small, newborn child twitch his fingers for the first time? What is the look that comes upon a young girl as she stands in the glistening rain? What is the look that clears away the wrinkles of an old man as he gazes out over the glittering waters of a pine enclosed lake? What is that look people get as they connect to the small things in life, the precious things. Is it empathy? Is it love? Or is just nature’s way of interlacing with our souls, and showing us how beautiful the world is?
The look we get and the feelings that radiate from us; It’s a way of reflecting the peace and beauty of this world through the emotions and eyes of another. So why then, isn’t everyone's face adorned with that blissfully enraptured look of detachment? Why hasn't everyone fall under nature’s spell perpetually?
   In the commotion of this new age, with the endless electronic devices, booming music, enticing dramas, intriguing books, laughter, friends, family, parties, school, and just life in general, we become so wrapped up in the beating rhythm of it all that we forget the beautiful things that nature has to offer us. When was the last time you went outside, just for the sake of breathing in the air? Listening to the birds? Feeling the warm sun spill across your skin?
 I don’t know about you but with the tumultuously infinite tasks, projects, relationships, education, hobbies, volunteering, and work I feel I’m drowning in each day, going outside for such an unproductive reason seems ludicrous. I just don’t have the time, or really even the desire to do something with so little accountable results.
   There is the thought process is one of the largest undermining flaws of Americans today. I believe that my impression on the insignificance of enjoying life is probably reflected by a rather large majority of the population. Why is this such a huge issue? Because when it all comes down to it, eventually you’re going to break. How long can you keep on struggling to your feet after the panic attacks, sheering off your nails as anxiety twists in your gut, and skipping meals so that you can cram another three hours of science before the midterm that day.
   We immerse ourselves in the rush of deadlines, technology, and friendships and all the while we grow further and further away from the ability to think creatively, feel tender emotions, and even appreciate the rain on an autumn day. We pressure ourselves to do so much growing up, maturing, even man-ing up, that we forget that those insecure, loving, and creative feelings are what make us human.
   In retrospect of a recent experience, I was out with some friends at a park doing some star gazing with telescopes. As I drifted a little ways off from the group I suddenly noticed where I was. You must be wondering what I mean by that, because surely it would have been apparent to me that I was standing in the middle of a place which could clearly be identified as a park. When I say I noticed where I was I'm not talking literally, I'm talking emotions, thought, senses. There was a small pond to the left of me, with a small flock of geese drifting through the water. The sun was beginning to fall behind the stretches of green grass framing the crests of the hills. As I looked around it hit me that this was the first time in an incredibly long time that I really felt like I was there. The grass under me was slightly moist from the sprinklers which must have turned on earlier that evening. The sky above me was lit in shocking hues of sherbert orange and pink, folded over by the glittering black of the night sky. All that time I had stood there, and yet noticed none of that. It was as though I was so wrapped up in what was going on in my head, that even though I knew I was in a park, I couldn’t really see it. I couldn’t see how beautiful it was. And as it hit me, I really have to admit I felt sad. I felt sad because I could remember not too long ago, a time when I was much younger and quite a bit more imaginative, the first thing I would have noticed was this. It wouldn’t have been the voices of my friends, or the repeating list of things I needed to do for the day. It wouldn’t even have been the conversations, the talk, the exhibits. What I would have noticed first would have been how beautiful that place was, and how it made me feel. At what point had this film, craftily created and spun by the combined efforts of myself and the world, been places over my eyes? When had I stopped seeing the little things, and focused more on the bigger things that were of less importance. When did I stop caring about being happy? When had I stopped loving the way the leaves changed colors in autumn? Or how the rain poured from the sky and bounced off the Christmas trees adorned in small merry lights garnishing the houses in winter. Or the way the sun shone across the cascading waters of the beach during summer, or even how the flowers blossomed in brimming heaps in spring. When did I stop feeling. When had this become so unimportant?
   This hot wave of life is suffocating our ability to feel, as well as see. No wonder so many of us suffer from anxiety, depression, stress, nightmares, insomnia, and so many other things. We ignore the simple fact that this life is meant to be enjoyed, not endured.
So stop. Freeze. Look for the first time since you got here. What are you trying to become in this mess of tangled arrangements and anxious deadlines? Breathe. Open your eyes and see what’s around you. Take that ten minutes off just to go outside and walk around, enjoy this world. Push away the electronics that constantly scream for attention, push away the piles of unfinished work –you can always come back to it. Put down the people who make you feel like trash, and clear your mind.
   Once you appreciate the small things, once you look at how truly beautiful they are, then this world bursts into life. What was once black and white blossoms into shades of red, blue, green, and lilac purple. Everything has meaning, everything gives you the ability to grow and change.


When you come to the end of your life, don’t let there be that looming remorse hovering over you. Don’t let yourself regret, “I wish I had let myself enjoy life more. I wish I had gone out to see how beautiful everything is." Don't let it be to late to go back and change it.

Friday, November 1

Caught Away-Voler de Nouveau

This reminds me of Maximum Ride

Tangled ribbons, 
catch in cascades of long dark hair.
Warm breath exhales into frigid air.
Lips part,
blood red.
Words whipped away
as though they were never there.
Pale skin
liquid shades of blooming perception,
color the ashen heart.

is futile.
The more you give,
the less you take.

Feet glide across gilded stone
 like silk feathers,
twirling in descent against the cold.
Smooth control
Look away as the monster roars
Brush away.
Glazed eyes.
Through symmetrical movement
 Hide the Tears.

Stars tremble in the sky.
Are they about to fall?
Like tiny diamonds,
shattering from their liquid pool.
Perfection in the glittering rain,
laughter as they thrash the fragile skin.
Beautiful fountains of crimson.
Sick Passion.

Shielded from contact,
propagate the dispatch.
By fire shall we free our souls.

Obsidian roses line the coffin,
to burn my body.
 Flames of exploding purple
burn into tarnished gold.
The tears roll away as steam.

clouds pulse against the body.
ravens caw
into the silent atmosphere.
The world has gone dark.
like a curtain meant
to draw out 
the end.