Saturday, December 31, 2011

Another Year, Another Day . . .

Happy birthday to Christina . . . 
Happy birthday to Christina . . . 
Happy birthday happy birthday 
Happy birthday to Christina . . .

 My littlest brother doesn't exactly know the words to the song.  But it's the sentiment that counts, and at two years old, that sentiment is enough for me.

Another year, another day, and today I'm seventeen.  People always look at me with an inquisitive glance when I comment under my breath that I didn't ever suppose I would live this long.

I guess it's not that I thought I would die before this . . . just that I never imagined myself at seventeen.  When I was young I never imagined myself any older.  I don't think that I could if I tried.

But if I were to go back and ask myself, at seven years old, if this me ten years later was acceptable, she would say yes.  Or at least a "hmaybe."

I feel older today.  People always joke about how you never feel older on your birthday, just the same as you did the year before and the year before but I do feel older.  Just a little, just a fraction.  Staring at myself in the mirror this morning, I was trying to imagine.  Seventeen whole years of existence.  Seventeen years is a long time-- not necessarily in terms of age, because there are a trillion people older than seventeen, but still.  A lot happens in seventeen years.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Just words

The fire is burning cheerily in its place.  Outside, the wind blows softly, no doubt on its way somewhere mysterious and exciting.  The sound of it invites us to join it and travel afar, but I'm curled up on the couch, you with your reading glasses in the armchair.

The room is a warm orangish glow and our low lamps aren't enough to make all the shadows disappear, so we simply coexist.

I glance up as I turn the page of my book and my eyes fall on you.  You're looking at me from over the rim of those sharp black glasses, your puzzle in your hand and your pen hanging limp from your fingers.


"Just thinking.  Imagining.  What do you want most out of a relationship?"

Sunday, December 25, 2011

O Holy Night

Listen to the midnight hush.  The stars shine high above, like millions of prisms scattering light abroad.

This is the night that Jesus has come to save His beloved.

For years we've waited, cried, craved, screamed and dreamed that He would come, please oh please just come, come and save us from the depravity that is ourselves, from the pain that we can naught but perpetuate.  We sin.  We err.  We can do nothing but.  We just want out.

And then, tonight, He comes.

He finally, finally comes.

Feel that for a moment.  You.  He has come for you.  He thinks you're worth coming for.

Feel that.  Do you feel the hope?  Even your weary, bone-aching tired soul is lightened within you because you finally know that you can be saved, saved from everything saved from yourself.

The sun finally rises on the dark night you have become so used to.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Soon It Will Be Christmas Day

Silver Bells
By Relient K

Silver bells . . . silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling~ hear them ring!
Soon it will be Christmas day

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks
Dressed in holiday style
In the air, there's a feeling of Christmas
Children laughing, People passing
Meeting smile after smile
And on ev'ry street corner you'll hear

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Here's To Many More

Parenthetically Bizarre is a year old today.


It's been a year of writing and not writing, posting and not posting, and way too many caps lock moments. NOT THAT THERE CAN BE TOO MANY CAPS LOCK MOMENTS. I MEAN SERIOUSLY.

Anyway.  A year ago today Parenthetically Bizarre was born because I was happy that day.  Yay nostalgia!

Got a party to go to tonight so we'll make this brief.  I've just GOT to post today.  I'm sure you understand.

So!  These are the stats for the whole year.  Not really sure why they go back to May of 2009, because I was finishing freshman year and hadn't even considered writing a thing back then, but whatever, Blogger.

Monday, December 19, 2011


Sometimes I just get surprised.   I'm very . . . excitable, to say the very least.  You can basically rest your hand on my shoulder and I'll scream reflexively.

Take last December, for example.  One Friday my friend invited me over, and I went, of course, without expecting anything. We worked on a sign for when we would go to the Relient K concert . . . and when I got home, there was a huge passel of girls in my living room screaming happy birthday at me.

Christmas presents usually don't surprise me.  Usually.

And then there are Christmas presents that surprise the pants off of me.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Most Wonderful

I'm feeling very Christmassy today.

Yesterday was the last co-op of 2011.

This Thursday I'll be making all kinds of Christmas goodies, cookies and treats with my brothers and grandmother (the majority of the cookies will probably be eaten by the two adults and three teenagers in my house before Christmas Eve).

This weekend I'm going to go ice skating with two dear friends of mine, and we're going to make sugar cookies and sing Christmas songs, I'm sure.

My first Christmas takes place on the 18th, when I'll be at my grandmother's house, eating Russian tea cakes and humming Silent Night.

I'm going caroling on the twentieth, to stand in the cold and sing songs about Jesus in the frosty air with some people I'm rather fond of.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Poor, Neglected (Boring) Blog . . .

Ah, poor Parenthetically Bizarre. I fear that you have become the boring blog, and that five.minute.anyday is the fun blog.
. . .
Well, I'm afraid there's not much I can do about that.  five.minute requires so much less planning (as is expected).  It's rather by-the-seat-of-my-pants, which is kind of how I like it when it comes to writing.  I don't like spurning Parenthetically, however.  I like them both rather a lot, and I miss you, Parenthetically.

Writing-wise, I've been working long and hard on something that *you'll* never read.  Just typing that makes me feel a little vicious, but I doubt you'd want to read it anyway.  You wouldn't get it and you would just be like, "this is dumb" and I would be hurt and go into a corner and cry because I am the only one in the whole world who would find even an inkling of enjoyment out of it.  It's just . . . one of those things.
Haven't picked up my NaNo novel again.  I keep telling myself it's because I'm just taking a break, and I'm writing above-said-other-thing, but I'm terrified I'm going to slide into a lack of care altogether for Blood is Thick and that when I come back to my November love it will turn out that I can't write anything at all.


Saturday, December 3, 2011

Christmas and July

Some things put me in better moods than others.
For example, colds.  Colds put me in bad moods.
And the SAT.  That put me in a kind of bad mood yesterday (it's over now).
But some things put me in really really good moods.  Like Christmas music.

I'm feeling a bit chatty and feel like elaborating on why I picked some of these songs, so you'll have to endure my little spiel here for a minute.  That or just scroll down.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

10 Things Christina is Not Good At

Hello there.  I am a failure of 2011 NaNoWriMo... and this is surprisingly all right with me.
I failed at getting my word quota every day.  You wanna see a chart?  I can show you one, courtesy of the NaNoWriMo website.
That's me, failing.  Woooooo~
But you know what else?  Failing is okay sometimes.  I'm content even though my bar is a shade of unrequited blue instead of jubilant, victorious purple.  This means that I can spend December writing, and January, and actually work on this thing.  Actually make this novel sound like a novel instead of a reeking pile of words that so often my NaNo novels are reduced to.
It's evolved like a colony of rabbits, you know.  A CRAZY amount of new plot twists have popped up from seemingly nowhere, and I'm only about a third of the way though 25,500 words in.  It's good I have more time because I'm going to have to really think to make sure I can sort this out without holes.

Friday, November 25, 2011

Black Friday 2011: a schedule

1.  Put away Thanksgiving dishes.  Lady Beautiful shows up.  Get dressed and ready.  Timomisanchankun decides to come with us to first stop.
2. Leave for Walmart at 9.00 pm.  Absolutely packed.  Shop for a while.  You buy Mom's present, and Grandma's.  Also buy snacks (Four cans of Monster, three mini bags of Doritos, three Snickers, two bags of Twizzlers).  Timomisanchankun decides to stay on.
3. Leave for Macy's at 11.00 pm.  Wait for an hour for doors to open.  Between Lady Beautiful, Timomisanchankun, and you, eat a bag of Twizzlers.  Also give a Snickers to Lady Beautiful's mother and feed one to Timomisanchankun and eat one yourself.  Timomisanchankun puts the box of Monsters outside of the door of the car so they will be cold.  Pull them in every time someone walks by.  Go inside when you realize people can stand in the mall instead of waiting in the car.  Doors open.  Buy two pairs of jeans (best friend's birthday present to you).
4. Chug Monsters on way to Target, but not Lady Beautiful's mom.  Arrive at 2 am. Shop. Lose Timomisanchankun in crowd.  Run through store calling his name.  Ask Lady Beautiful's mom where he is to realize he's right behind you.  Wait in checkout line that is running up and down 12+ aisles.  Play silent game for part because Lady Beautiful has a headache.  Buy rest of Mom's gift, part of friend's birthday present.
5. Go to Starbucks.  You order white chocolate mocha with an extra shot of espresso not realizing this means it now has THREE SHOTS in it.  Drink coffee.  Lady Beautiful gives her peppermint mocha to Timomisanchankun because she feels nauseous.  Timomisanchankun realizes coffee is a yummy thing and drinks it all.  Get thirsty.  Get glasses of water.  Chug water.
6. Leave for Radio Shack at 3.45.  Arrive at 4. Doors to open at 5.30.  You are dumb for arriving so early.  Two people in line in front of you.  Try to sleep but can't because you just drank A TON of caffeine.  Get annoyed, complain and be mildly irritable but more so hilariously amused at everything in the car for an hour.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Caffieneeeeee (but a more appropriate title would be: IT'S A BATTLE or perhaps WAHAHAHA)

SO.  I have news.  News that is probably unfortunate to come across this late into NaNoWriMo, but that’s the way the world turns, the crow flies and the tides roll, eh?
I think I’m confusing my metaphors.
ANYWAY.  My news.
Wait no the other news.  I was going to say that later.  (But he is, guys.  Really really really really cool.  Like, in my list of superhero true loves it’s Captain America, Spiderman, and then Green Lantern.  He’s fabulous, super attractive and his character changes throughout the movie! (As opposed to Captain Rogers my love who is fabulous, super attractive and pretty much perfect throughout the whole film, and Spidey dear who is fabulous, great but gets better, and is mildly . . . well . . . not really attractive but he’s Spiderman, okay?!!?) So yeah!  Green Lantern’s cool.)
BUT MY FIRST NEWS. (wow I should not be trying to blog while I’m on caffeine. WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS GOING TO SAY. SEGWAY!)

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Chapter Four: Whereupon Prince Talor Has A Nervous Breakdown Because I Am Bored of Normalcy (Already)

Talor watched the girl leave, waiting until she was around a curve of the brown-red mountain.  As soon as her boot disappeared from view, he whirled.  “Raech!” he hissed, staring in bewilderment at his mentor.  His finger stabbed through the air, the tiny jewel lying conspicuously on the greying wood. A light scarlet smudge lay beneath it and the light danced across its surface.
Raech turned to him, arms crossed.  “Bold move you made there.  That woman wasn’t who she said she was.”
“I don’t care.”  Talor’s voice was low and intense.  “Come and look at this right now.”
Raech’s face relaxed into an angry mask at being snubbed but he stepped up to the table anyway.  He looked down.  “You found a red jewel?”  He looked up at the young prince, surprised.  “That’s quite valuable, since—.”
You don’t understand!”  Talor shoved his hands into his hair and clutched at his head.  The green jewel, previously hidden by his hair on the upper helix, sparkled in the daylight, the fake Nalinian gem below it on his earlobe. “I did not find with a red jewel, I was led to a red jewel.” His voice escalated in volume.  “How is that even possible? It’s supposed to be green!  Green!” Talor picked it up and held it in the air.  “That’s not valuable, that’s completely impossible!  I was supposed to get a green one!  What am I supposed to do with this?
 “Well, perhaps—.”
Talor flung the gem at the table and sat heavily on the stump. Burying his face in his hands, he wailed in a muffled voice, “It’s not even greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen . . .”


Yeah, you got that right.  When Christina gets bored and she's behind on wordcount STRANGE THINGS START HAPPENING.

Cue Toy Story Music.

Anyway. Just wanted to give ya'll a little update on the novel front.

I'm still like a million words behind.  And I have 3 days where I absolutely will not be able to write.


Life is crazy.

Christina Icarus

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

THIS. IS. SPARTA. . . . wait a second . . .

It is November 15th.

The middle day of NaNoWriMo.

25,000 words.

The middle.

Blood is Thick.
14,171 words.


Joy Williams and The Classic Crime.

A sauceless pizza.

A huge water bottle.



Tuesday, November 8, 2011


Yeah, so I don't really celebrate Halloween REALLY.  I'm just not a fan of the zombies and the witches and the dead things and werewolves and vampires (of any kind, sparkly or not).  Keep your demons, please, and just give me the candy.  Great!  Thanks!  Bai.

HOWEVER. That being said.  I do enjoy carving pumpkins.

Nerdy punkins are just better than usual.
 And I also enjoy dressing up in costume...

Even when my friends have no clue who I'm supposed to be.

The hat would have made it more obvious.

I'm Link, guys.  What kind of geeks are you?  LINKKKK.
Anyway.  Gonna watch The Mentalist and get writing again.  Just thought I'd recount my Halloween in pictures since I had a minute.

Who's looking forward to Thanksgiving??
Christina Icarus

Monday, November 7, 2011

NaNoWriMo '11: Blood is Thick

The wind whispered across the snow, sweeping the white ash through the air.  Horses, riderless, stood in the cold, ducking their heads to keep the burning from their eyes.  A tiny figure sat on a third horse, flakes gathering on his eyelashes as hot tears spilled from his eyes and froze as they trickled down his cheeks.  Below him, in the ravine, blood had melted the snow before freezing into a glossy scarlet sheet over the ice.
Death was before him, the icy tundra on all sides.
There was no escape from the oppression that surrounded him.  Shaking, the child threw his head back and tore the sky with his wail.

There it is:  the prologue to my 2011 writing adventure that is National Novel Writing Month.  Exciting, huh?
Yeah, that's probably the best thing that I've written thus far.  It's kind of insane and totally bizarre.  Like, I'm 9,002 words in and I'm only on plot point two?  That kind of insane.
I have a feeling I'm not going to be done with the book at all by the time I have 50,000 words.  Which is amusing, because in the past I've finished with 50,010 and 50,008 words on November 30th.


Sorry I haven't posted in a while, but I've been working on that and things in my life are kind of jacked right now and I'm waiting for something to change while trusting God the best I know how.  Run-on sentence?  Maybe.  I can only think for so long in a day. :]
I'll try to post more regularly, both here and on five.minute.anyday..  You guys deserve it, you lovely readers. :3
Christina Icarus

Friday, October 28, 2011



I have a tentative title, though.  It's Blood is Thick.  You know, after that saying, blood is thicker than water.
I don't really know why it's called that, besides that three of the MCs are related.  But the last one isn't.  And they don't really know they're related.  Kind of.
Gosh I need to type up a synopsis of this that makes sense. XD

I don't have much time-- got things to do before THREE DAYS AWAY.  But just thought I'd update a little.  I do have a plot and a working title... but no names for characters yet.

Are you terrified?  Because I am incredibly terrified.

Christina Icarus

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

NaNoWriMo Begins In: 6:02:16:55 ... 54 ... 53 ...

Six days, guys.

"Until what?" you ask, you oblivious fool.


National Novel Writing Month, November annually.  It's thirty word-packed,  caffeine-saturated, insanity-propelled days of writing PANIC, peppered with breakdowns and plot bunnies and terror and excitement and tears.  So many tears, both of happiness and joy.  Sometimes you can't even tell why you're crying, but you are.

"Okay?" You blink, taken aback by my vehemence and my calling you a fool.  You have no clue why this is such an issue.



Preferably with an inspiration gun?  Kthnx.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Two Things That Make Me Happy

There's something that has been making me increasingly joyful these past few days.  It's because I've just discovered what a wonderful thing it is, and I've developed a craving of it that's not really comparable.

Joy is one word for it.

The other?


Monday, October 17, 2011


Something most people don't know about me is that I love IndyCar.  The sleek cars, the high speeds, the charismatic drivers-- I soak it in.

My friends don't get it.  "They're cars driving in circles.  What's so exciting about that?  It's boring. And why don't you like football again?"

Maybe it's because my dad has always been a fan of auto-racing.  I can remember sitting on his lap when I was just a little girl as he watched the chassis zoom around the track, listen to him talk about the speed and the rules and the drivers and the teams and pit crews and everything else that he could.  He took my family to Chicagoland Speedway back in 2009 and I remember driving up there, leaning in, listening to him talk about his favorite drivers and who he wanted to win.  I asked him who was the best, and what countries everyone was from, and decided I would always root for the Aussies and the Brits.

I still watch races with him.  I love it.  I'm not a rabid fan, but I know that Indycar is better than Nascar and I will tell you as much while I wear my Target-Chip Ganassi sweatshirt in honor of my favorite driver, Scott Dixon.  I like to know who's on the pole.  I will groan if it's someone I can't stand, cheer when I love them, or demand "Who's that?" if it's someone who had previously escaped my attention.

I was watching with him yesterday.  The race was being held in Las Vegas, Nevada, and 12 laps in there was a fifteen car pileup.

Dan Wheldon lost his life yesterday.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

They're Hard to Take Care of But Often Make My Day

My foster brothers, that is.

This was our conversation driving in the car the other day.  We were passing a lake, and some people had taken their boats for a float that day.

Dan (age four): "LOOK, CHRISTINA!!  Boats!!"
Me: "Yeah, boats are fun, huh?"
Dan: "Boats are fun.  With them you can go to to to to to people's houses, and and and and parties, and everywhere!"
Me: "Yeah, they are cool.  When you grow up you can have one, okay?"
Dan: "When I grow up, I'm gonna be the man that's that's that's driving the boat."
Me:  "Oh, okay."
Peyton (age two): "When I grow up, I'm gonna be... (pause, watches boat) Spiderman!"
Me: "Ohhh, Spiderman?"
Peyton: "YEAHHHHHHH!!"
Dan: "And then and then you can pick us up in the boat."
Peyton: "And then I'm gonna pick you up in the boat, okay?"

I just grinned and nodded.  Apparently Spiderman can pick up boats now.  It's a recent development. ;]

Monday, October 10, 2011

Positively Enchanting~

So this is an advertisement.  Kind of.

Well, I've decided it's not really an advertisement but more like a girlfriend sharing news of a really great deal at her favorite store.

Favorites?  Great deal, you say?

I'm glad you're all ears.

Deas Vail's new self-titled CD is available today on Amazon for $3.99.  It came out a day earlier than expected, and it's four dollars.

I've already got mine.  I'm listening to it right now, and as the first song's chorus began, I got chills.  I cannot express with words just how much I adore Deas Vail. 

Thursday, October 6, 2011

The Redeemer

 The Redeemer
Sanctus Real

Sometimes I just want to start over, 'cause everything looks like a wreck
And I need the courage to carry on, 'cause I can't see what's ahead
And there are places I've wished I could be, battles I've wanted to win
Dreams that have slipped through my hands
I may never get back again

But I'm still a dreamer, a believer
Oh, I've lost my faith in so many things, but I still believe in You
'Cause You can make anything new

Sometimes I just wish we could say all the things that are easy to hear
Ignore the injustice we see and explain every unanswered prayer
But I'd rather speak honestly and wear a tattered heart on my sleeve
'Cause in the middle of my broken dreams, redemption is here

Monday, October 3, 2011

Where is the Love We had Before?

Dear Writing:

Hi.  We haven’t spoken in a while.  For this I apologize.

Well, I mean, I know we’ve spoken… but it’s more of a business now and less of a relationship.  I call you when I need you, but you hardly ever just show up to be with me.  I use your help with papers, and articles, and five.minute.anydays, but no real writing.

We haven’t written a story in ages.

The last drabble I wrote was in the thin air of Colorado, and I feel the piece was even more frail than the atmosphere up on that hill.

Where did my love for you go?

Thursday, September 29, 2011

GoodReads! Also A Tiny Update.

So I joined GoodReads, guys!  I am not sure what this means.  Hopefully that I will be reading more books.

Anyhow.  Profile is here!  Be my friend if you know me!

(Hopefully you do if you are reading my blog, yes? ^~^ )

Also.  I am writing something.  Something FICTIONAL.  With CHARACTERS.
I don't know if it has come to your attention lately, but I have not been writing much.  I have been reading Dante and John Hus and James Madison and Abeka Consumer Mathematics In Christian Perspective (R) and not so much fiction books, so I have not been really inspired.  But Elisabeth my love posted a meme on her site and I decided to try, to see if I really had starved my muses completely to death this school year.


Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Life and meaning.


and meaning

We assign so many definitions.  We come up with so many quotes.  We ask questions.  What is life?  What is meaning?

Why are we wasting our time when You already asked these questions?

You’re the only One with the answer.


and meaning

They’re You.

It’s just that simple.

To live as You lived, act as You act, love like You loved.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Have Your Way

Have Your Way
 Britt Nicole

Feels like I've been here forever,
Why don't You just intervene?
Do You see the tears keep falling?
And I'm falling apart at the seams

But You never said the road would be easy,
But You said that you would never leave.
And You never promised that this life wasn't hard,
But You promised you'd take care of me.

Friday, September 16, 2011

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet...

 Actually, now that I stare at the words on the screen, that’s kind of a dumb name for this post.  Because, I mean, roses don’t always smell, guys.  And when they don’t, I always feel a little cheated, like they extracted the smell just because they knew those dumb roses would be coming to me, and they know that I’m waiting for the day that I smell some roses that smell like magic, if not at least flowers, and they wish to prolong my suffering. It’s unkind of them, I feel.
Who are they?  Who knows.  Smurfs, maybe?
If you find out, let me know.
Also in the same vein of endowing me with wisdom, will some kind lady please explain to me why the best kinds of perfume I can ever smell here on earth are all from really raunchy stores I do not wish to patronize?  It’s like you can’t smell delicious without selling your soul to a store that encourages prostitution.  No thanks, guys.  But I will buy your PINK for reduced prices under the table.  Kthnx.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

This Is The Way That You Are

 The Way That You Are
The Classic Crime

He gets his information from overhearing conversations.
He doesn't ask questions, doesn't learn many lessons.
And he keeps his mouth shut,
until it boils over, and he blows up
And then he can't form his words right,
they don't fit together so tight

And I hope to God that he will find his name
and not listen to his "so-called" friends when they so boldly say:

This is the way, that you are
Don't let them say
This is the way, that you are

Thursday, September 8, 2011

I'm Just A Man

Please, don't hold me up as an example.

People have done this to me all my life.  They tell me I'm an inspiration, a good role model for their daughters, a sweet girl that helps restore their hope in my generation.

And lately, when they do, a mask of complimented absence slips down over my face, and I smile and thank them, letting their words slide.  In one ear.  Out the other.

I'm not saying this because I'm proud.  I'm saying it because I need to be humbled.  I have an exorbitant amount of pride, and I am learning to despise, more than anything, heartfelt compliments of how great I am.

I am pleased I appear an obvious follower of Jesus Christ.  I am glad that people see things in me they want their children to exemplify.  I understand when they are compelled to tell me so and to let me know how they feel.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Excuses! Which I Am Completely Certain You Want To Hear

That’s the word that comes to mind when I think of how I’ve been neglecting my poor Parenthetically Bizarre.  Crazy, absolutely, off-the-wall, insane-asylum, what-are-you-taking, beyond-comprehension crazy.
HAHA! Silly question.  School, that’s why. 
And before that, it was painting my room.  Yep, it went from happy lemon yellow....
(Wish I had a better picture, but we were, like, working and stuff, ya'll.  Wresting wallpaper border from the walls that was most certainly demonic in every aspect of the word.  Didn't have time for pictures.)
to this lovely shade of blue in this picture here:
And orange, too, on the wall opposite.  White on the walls between.  It's super cool looking.

 And then we moved Onii-chan in to his college dorm last Friday.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Fresh Memories (And They're Already Sepia Tones)

Watching you walk away is hard.  I feel as though everything I’ve offered to you, every piece of my heart, every breath and word and smile, is going with you, and you’re going a long way off.  Everything I’ve given you is following you, spinning after you, like a leaf dropped in a whirling eddy of water, and all I can do is watch and pray it doesn’t go under, that it stays its course and makes it through the tiny rapids in the creek, because they’re really huge. They’re huger for that leaf than you could ever imagine.

As you walk away a thousand memories are coming to mind, and I feel like I’m losing you. I’m not.  You’re just becoming your own person, making your own decisions, leaving for a while.  You’ll come back, I know it.

but it’s a helpless feeling watching you whirl in the ripples and eddies and swirls, and all I can do is clutch my hands to my face and pray you’ll do fine.

I know you’ll do fine.

But helplessness is a hard thing to adjust to.

All the Memories

I will never cease to be fascinated by the flow of time.
So many years… and so many minutes… and yet, so little time.
I can’t remember it all.  My brain can’t remember everything.  It can’t even remember a little of all I’ve been through, what I’ve seen, experienced, said, loved.
I’m a senior this year.  I’m graduating, class of 2012.  I sat in my grandmother’s house, ten years old, bemoaning the fact I was only in 6th grade.  “I still have six more years. I’m only halfway done. School is gonna take forever!”  I told her, rolling my eyes dramatically.
Those years-- where did they go?
What happened to them?
I couldn’t tell you.  I don’t know.  Just gone, where time goes, and I don’t really remember them, because I can’t, because no one can remember them all.
My brother is leaving for college today.  We’re driving him north, to Indiana Wesleyan University, where he’ll study away the next 4 years of his life.  Nursing, to become a professor someday. 
Moving out.
Growing up.
That’ll be me next year.  Headed to college.  Moving out.  Growing up.  A woman.
Why aren’t we still those little kids, he running around in the Ash Ketchum hat with the Pikachu plushes, I skipping after in the pink sundress and the jelly shoes and the insanely long curly hair?

Thursday, August 25, 2011


Update concerning the post below:

Actually, thinking about this, I decided why not do it every day?  So I've started another blog, called five.minute.anyday, where you can read my five minute blurbs for every day I can manage to get them done.

Let me know if it's too hard to read the way it is, and I can change the background/color theme.

Just thought I would let you all know.   I've also linked to it on the sidebar, where I have links to everywhere else I hang out on the interwebs.

Off to go read Dante's Inferno (Aah, school how I missed you... *sarcasm hand* ),

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Writing Prompts: Determination and Defect


Determined. That's what I saw when I saw you, when I looked in your eyes. Grim, beautiful determination, and you were ready, willing, and capable to take on whatever came your way.
Determination is kind of an interesting thing when it comes to you, though. You can be wonderfully set on something, and intend to do it, to complete everything, to tie every loose end you've ever created, and I watch you, after you work and work until your fingerprints are worn thin, and you're burning out, and wearing down, and you're exhausted.
I wish your determination was less of a compulsive drive pushing you on, on, on, and more of a constructive feeling, inspiring you to do, and do well, and stop, and enjoy what you have done.
You mustn't mistake striving for determination, my love, is all.
You worry me sometimes. But I know all I can do is pull you close to me and let you rest your tired head on my shoulder, just beneath my collarbone, where you can hear my heartbeat, and you can just exist for a while. No striving. No determination. Just rest.
I love it when you rest.
You live in such perpetual hurry. Calm down. Slow down. Breathe, and taste the air. Blink, and feel your eyes refresh themselves. Open them, and focus on the flowers.
Busy, busy, busy, my love. Won't you rest for just a moment with me?


Thursday, August 11, 2011

To Everything Its Season (A Poem)




I don't think there's a clear line
on which is which

I don't think it matters
as much

as things
that are changing

things are changing




and who knows where one begins
and the other ends
and they all know
and we both know
it doesn't matter

it's simply


and everything is changing

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

So Fast

Four weeks ago I was walking to get feather extensions put in my hair in Manitou Springs, Colorado.  It was raining outside, and I had tied my floor-length dress in a hasty knot at my knees.   I was laughing under an umbrella as I walked, chatting with my best friend Purple Hippo Girl (also known as Anna) and our new friend Jimmy Brazell.  He was contemplating getting a feather put in his hair as well, talking about his Native American heritage and how cool it would be.
We encouraged him.  "Yeah, do it!" 
"That would be so cool!" 
"You would totally be the coolest guy at Summit if you did that." 
"Heck, yes!  And if any of the other guys give you any flack, just let us know.  We'll take care of them for you.  They're just not man enough to get feathers in their hair."
"Haha, and then they'll see that we think you're the coolest guy and get all jealous, and then they'll come and get feathers too." 
"Yes!  Trendsetter!"
He grinned listening to us, and his entire countenance lit up.  "Really? Do you think I should?"
"Yes!"  We chorused, beaming back at him.
"Okay, I'm gonna do it,"  he decided.  He was so excited, and that just made us more so.  This kid was brave.  We were proud of him.
I remember sitting on the floor at his feet on the gaudy carpet in the crowded and quirky little store, playing with my new pink extension and watching him flip through the huge blue binder with all of the colorful, striped feathers, trying to decide which one was just right.  Anna and I helped him choose a black and white striped one, not too long, but just long enough to peek out of his curly, sandy-brown hair. He got it placed three or four inches above and behind his ear, and it looked great.  "That is so cool!"  We cheered as he admired it in the little mirror.  "It looks so great, Jimmy!"
We all started walking back to the Summit hotel, having a great time.
"We should be a tribe," Jimmy decided.
"Yeah!"  We agreed.  "That would be great.  What should we call it?"
We threw around some names for a while, and then I giggled as we passed the Colorado Custard Company. I thought of the cute old man who owned it with his family, Victor C.  "Hey," I laughed, "We should be tribe VictorCee."
"Yeah!" Anna and Jimmy agreed.  "Tribe VictorCee!  That's great!"
"I guess since I'm the only guy, then, I'll be the leader," Jimmy concluded.
"Okay!" We grinned.  We would be his little tribe, one chief and two squaws.  We would follow him anywhere.

Saturday, July 30, 2011


 Guys.  I just got back from seeing Captain America: The First Avenger last night. It was great—fabulous.  Go see it, and go see it now.  I know you’ll enjoy it. (You should, anyway.  It’s like my favorite movie in the world.)

Because—well, we might as well get straight to the point here.  I am hopelessly, piteously, rapturously and pathetically in love with Captain America.

Those of you who might not know me as well as others are saying, “What?  But he’s fake.”

Those of you who do know me well are saying, “What? Again?”  (Perhaps you know me a little too well, eh?)

Friday, July 22, 2011

I Love... The Summit

Once upon a time, Amazing Grace was my favorite song.  I remember skipping through my grandmother’s house, proudly ariating every word with a four-year-old assurance that no one could render the song better than I.
It’s a favorite of mine once again, but for vastly different reasons.
I mean—just think about it for a second, you guys.  To be blind—a complete and total lack of sight.  No concept of light, of color, of what people look like.  Lost in a myriad of confusing sounds, smells, sensations.  Deprived of the vision you know others have. With unknown misconceptions of the world around you, brought about by a simple lack of understanding. Confused. For all you know, alone. Craving the light you’ve never known.
And then, suddenly, you can see.
That kind of transformation leaves me speechless.  Just think about it—how glorious would that be?  I can hardly imagine.  It doesn’t even matter to me what you see… just the marvelous, startling, spectacular realization of what light really is, that what you’ve thought was reality this whole time was just a spectre and imprint of what really exists.
And yet, that’s kind of how I feel about Summit.  I had all these ideas and images and things I knew to be true, but Summit pulled them together and gave me a sort of sight I didn’t know was possible.
For that, I am eternally grateful.

Sunday, July 17, 2011


I have no clue where to begin.
I suppose the first thing I could tell you is that Colorado is as close to Eden as you’re allowed to get here on this earth.  It’s beautiful, enchanting, inspiring, and all of the people we met there were incredibly sweet and marvelous.
Although it’s a LOT higher in altitude than my home state of Indiana.  We walked off of the plane into the dry heat and my hands flew to my throat.  “I can’t breathe!” I eeped, looking to my brother wildly.  “What is wrong with this air? I can’t breathe! Oh my gosh, I’m going to die!  Why is there no air?!”
He sighed deeply.  “I love it here.” His voice was cool and he smiled. “I would move here just to breathe.”
I responded with something completely articulate and controlled, like “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND I AM DYING HERE WHAT IS GOING ON”.  He kindly told me to shut up, as I was shouting at him in the middle of the airport.  After a few minutes, though, I was starting to accept the fact I was slowly being asphyxiated and I stopped complaining.  As much.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

And She's Off!

Hey guys!
Guess what?  I fail at writing consistently!  So far, I've been writing only when I've been inspired, and I've been too dang tired and frazzled to be inspired.
You know why?
Because tomorrow, these two kiddos will be heading to the airport to go to lovely... COLORADO!

Yours truly and my wonderful Onii-chan

Although it's going to be at 5:15 in the morning, so we'll probably look a little more like this.
Sleepy. Also with Mountain Dew.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

All Things Young And Beautiful

Gosh, how I love the way that Owl City inspires you to create fantastically fluffy, lusciously light, tangible daydreams that you can only describe as art. Ecstatically excited, you rush to your desk and let your inspiration bloom into full-blown fantasies and dramatic, dream-like miracles of existence.  And then you realize, “Oh, wait, I’m not Adam Young.  I can’t legally be this adorable.”  Raising an eyebrow, it’s then that you realize that everything you just made is absolutely atrocious and appalling, completely convoluted, licentiously light and pathetically piteous . . . and you go and drown your human and incredibly not Adam-Young-like sorrows in a tub of double fudge ice cream.
In spite of my abundance of sarcasm, I honestly hope I’m not the only one this happens to.
Owl City’s All Things Bright And Beautiful comes out today.  Are you excited?
On the 12th, some lovely friends of mine lent me their pre-ordered copy of his CD.  It’s incredibly lovely and magical, just like you would expect.  It’s still Owl City, but it’s a little different than his previous works, especially songs like Kamikaze.  Of course, I still loved every second . . .  even when I was laughing out loud when he crooned a line that I was NOT expecting.  Why yes, Deer in the Headlights, I am speaking to you.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Told You I'd Be Back~ (Update 16)

I’ve got two things to put forth for your reading pleasure today.  I think I’ve decided to stop calling things I write like this poems, and start calling them something else.  They’re not really poems to me… they’re just word patterns.  Detached patterns used to convey an idea.  Poetry?  I’m not about to claim it’s poetry.   It would have to be much more elegant to be considered poetry in my mind.
So here are two patterns for you. :]
This first one was written when I was tired.  Not super tired, but a physical tiredness instead of a sleepy tiredness.  Taken and stretched horribly out of proportion, I actually came up with a kind of interesting little pattern.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Writing Dump~

Yep.  Told you I'd dump all of this on you sooner or later... so here it is.

I guess we'll just go in chronological order, since that's the easiest way to go.  :]

First of all, I've rewritten the prologue to Islander (yes, AGAIN) and I've put it on the page.  One day I'll be done with this book, guys, and it'll be AWESOME.  I know it. :P

I've added a link on the side to a short story I wrote for my writing class.  It's called Best Friends Forever.  It's a real life story, which aren't often my favorites, but it's loosely based (and rather warpedly (that's a word now, guys)) on circumstances and memories of my own life and other friendships I've observed.  But my best friend and I weren't like that--  She's really wonderful as opposed to the fake wonderful that was Lacey and I'm not quite so needy or OCD as Meridith.  We get along rather nicely, I think. ^_~

Thursday, June 2, 2011


I know I keep writing these update posts, but this one is kind of hard.
Because, I mean, a lot has happened….
but not much has happened.
After all, IT’S SUMMER NOW!  Which is great.  This also means that not much has happened.  But I haven’t posted in a while, so a lot has happened.  Make sense?
Maybe not.
Well, the first piece of business is that SCHOOL IS OVER.  But with school being over, my mother had turned off the internet on my laptop.  Which, we suppose, is okay, but Seiji George and I are finding it a lot harder to survive without Grooveshark, and the death of the interwebs will also make it harder to post, which is something I wanted to do more frequently throughout the summer.
But the internet being down led to my rewriting of the prologue of Islander, and it’s better now, and I didn’t kill the voice of the book.  (SCORE.)  I hope to be working on it a lot more, since I have some free time at my nannying job after I’m off-duty.
In my life, I’ve also stayed up until 3 am at a sleepover once, been to one swim party, went to the mall to window-shop once, and read one book.
But it’s only been like a week, guys!  So no judging.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Voices Told Me

I was going through my writing class papers for a final portfolio and came across this.  I wrote it as a humorous process essay in my writing class in September/October and figured some of you would get a kick out of it.  Enjoy! ^_^
Back to work,

The Voices Told Me

When in a group of people, the best way for an author to get a weird look from someone is to start talking about an imaginary character as though he is real and alive in her thoughts. Those around her may smile, or laugh, but when that odd individual turns away, they exchange glances behind the author’s back. Did you hear what she just said? They question with their eyes.  Did I hear her right, or am I insane?  In some cases, their confusion is warranted: the author may just be joking around.  But with a few select authors, his or her claims are true: the author does have characters in her head, and she deserves pity, not bewilderment.  Oftentimes, the writer with a character ‘living’ in her mind has the most intriguing stories to tell.  These characters are strong-willed and seem to have minds of their own.  Once she finds one of these characters in her mind, it’s very hard for her to direct the storyline without unsolicited input from the character himself.  Getting the characters and writer to cooperate while recording a story can be a difficult process.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Update #14 (Finally!): Poem Disposal

Every once in a great while, an irresistible urge comes over me.  I want nothing more than to create something beautiful-- tragically so, flowing and aching and glorious in its adroit intensity, reaching into the very heart of the viewer, of someone who can connect with the message and heart of the creation.  I want to share the emotion, the feeling, the ache and the rapture and the incredibility and the wonder of something, anything--  I want to paint a masterpiece.
When these thoughts seize me, I wish I could say I act on them.  With a straight face, I wish I could tell you that I feel this way often, and that when I do, I'm quick to act-- to capture the fleeting mood-- to create.  I would love to say that I don't simply revel in the feeling and wish very strongly before I let myself slide back in the busy mediocrity and unwavering system that makes up my everyday life.  I want to tell you that I take advantage of them always.
Sometimes I do.  Sometimes I let go of whatever responsibilities I have and just let everything fly, floating away in a river of miraculous discovery, magic, creation.

Three of these poems didn't come from that.  They were the product of an assignment, and whereas some of them are all right, I don't particularly like them as much as I could if I had let myself... create.  Revel in it.  I let myself go a little more while writing Escape, an alliterative poem, and I like that one much more than the rest.

I hope you enjoy them all, nevertheless.

Monday, May 2, 2011


I know, I know.  You're all going, "Oh my gosh!  Christina is finally posting again?  I thought she DIED."

Well, no.  Actually something quite the opposite has happened to me.

I got a life.

Yeah, you know, a life.  Like, that thing when you get a job, and things actually get done, and you schedule time to go out and have coffee with your friends instead of moping that you never see them, and then you get stressed and go crazy some weekend and go shopping two hours away and buy yourself a $40 dress because you have money and you're grown up now and you CAN.

And now your reality is coming apart at the seams.  The impossible has occurred.  "A life? Pippin has a life?!?"

Crazy, huh?

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Happy Anniversary To ME!

April of 2008.  I was obsessive-compulsively filling in my calender.  In the midst of blithe scrawls of 'BREAK' across the first week, obscure holidays like Family Day (S. Africa) and birthdays of people I hardly knew/had only heard of (e.g., Drew's Older Sister's Birthday), one little day was packed with three or four events.  In tiny, millimeter-high text, it could easily be missed:

-10th anniversary

I don't doubt that a lot of people did miss it.  I didn't get near as many questions from people as I thought I'd might (though admittedly not a lot of people read my calender, and if they did they were probably just examining my doodles instead of reading it like they said they were.).

But I know what you're thinking.  "What?  Christina?!  I have heard nothing of engagement.  What is going on."

Perhaps I ought to explain.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Oddities You Never Could Have Guessed (Ever)

I just realized a little while ago there are some pretty weird things about me I bet you guys never knew.  So, without further ado (I need a new phrase, I think), here are The Top Five Things You Never Knew About Christina!

1.  Christina is addicted to ABBA Mama Mia! music.
My grandmother is enamored with theatre.  When I was young, she would drive us around in her flawlessly tidy sedan playing her showtunes, and my favorite was the Mamma Mia! musical soundtrack.  I couldn't get enough of it.  We'd get in the car, and it was "Please play Mamma Mia!"  When we went to her house, we were, without fail, invited to select the background music for the evenings.  My brothers always tried to pull something that they hadn't heard before.  They only did this because they knew when it hit my turn, it would be Mamma Mia!, without exception. (If they were feeling particularly spiteful, they would put it in before me, so I had to pick something else.  I got back at them, though-- when Christmas rolled around, I played Vince Guaraldi's A Charlie Brown Christmas, which I revelled in and they despised.)  My grandmother even burned me a copy of her soundtrack once, but when I brought it home my parents confiscated it because of language (I was probably about seven at the time).  I'm still addicted to it, though.  Since I'm older, I can't get enough of it.  My favorite is probably Thank You For The Music, but The Winner Takes It All is also a great one.  Or just all of them.  My only lament is that I can't run around singing them all of the time-- I feel that walking down the hallway of my co-op singing "Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight/
Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away" or "Don't go sharing your devotion/Lay all your love on me" just wouldn't go over very well.
But that's just a hunch.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Intrinsic Impossibilities (That Really Happen)

Have you ever heard something that was completely improbable and to your complete and utter surprise, watch it be proven despite the incongruence of its very existence?  Have you ever known in the core of your being that something was totally impossible, and watch it happen before your very eyes?

For example, as a child, I was told of flying fish.  I couldn’t picture anything more polarly opposite:  fish must stay in water, and have no appendages or wings for flying through the air, even if they could survive in our foreign atmosphere (which they can’t).  I’ve never seen flying fish, but now I know that they exist.  I can only imagine my utter, jaw-dropping surprise when the fish would launch out of the water, and I would see their glistening bodies in the air, if only for a moment.  I would be speechless.  Fish, creatures of the water, soaring through the air like leaves, butterflies, birds.  Insanity defined—and yet here, in front of my eyes, it would occur.

Or the idea of carnivorous plants.  That a plant would eat an animal or an insect was preposterous.  There was no way, not by any stretch of the imagination.  But yet, there they are, in tropical, vast rainforests thousands of miles from my suburban home.  Venus fly traps, pitcher plants:  I’ve seen video footage of them, watched them snatch a wasp from the air, heard the ant plop into the acid in the base of the red and green flower.  I couldn’t believe it:  a plant eating something besides sunlight, water and time.  Absurdity at its best—and yet here, in front of my eyes, it occurred.

Monday, March 28, 2011


I have a word written across my forearm right now, the navy blue Sharpie faded and disappearing.  It’s even and straight, inking my skin purposefully, where I can see it.
A few days ago, my five-year-old cousin stopped me.  “What’s that on your arm?” she asked me.
“Just something I wrote.”
“What does it say?”
“Why does it say that?”
I just shrugged and smiled, and she prattled on about something else.  It was easier to let her move on than try to explain.  I wasn’t even sure if I knew what I was trying to say by tattooing myself with that little word.
I picked up my marker and put it there the other day, after reading a blog post written by my friend Jodi.  Her words really made me stop and think.  “I don’t want to.  I. Have. To. Change.”
I’m a very passive person.  I, by nature, just let things happen.   I don’t really fight for my freedoms or make efforts to participate in certain activities.  Thinking about it, I realize the only reason I don’t participate in a lot of the things my friends do is that it’s simply not convenient for me. 
I don’t watch TV because no one in my family does.  I don’t have a Facebook because my parents aren’t keen on it.  I don’t listen to the music my friends do because I have the bands I listen to, and looking for or screening other bands is not the way I chose to spend my free time, when I have it.
Could I do these things?  Yes.  Could I talk my parents into letting me do some stuff I typically don’t?  Maybe.
It’s not like I don’t care… it’s more that I just let things go.  I’m passive.  It’s fine as long as I’m content and everyone around me is happy.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011


It's Tuesday and I haven't moved from this spot on my colorful bed surrounded by stuffed animals in several minutes.  My bed is unmade, my homework undone, my hair unbrushed and my face un-made-up.  I'm under strict rules not to leave this spot unless I have to go to the bathroom... or it's time for my doctor's appointment.
Yep, you got that right.  I'm sick.  And it STINKS.

I don't even know what I have.  I just feel awful and weak.  My mom, who's in the midst of recovering from this weird thing herself, commanded me not to do anything.  ANYTHING.  That means no homework until I get better, you guys.  This sickness only lasts four or five days, but I need to do homework because otherwise I'll get behind, and I have too many classes to get behind.
That thought really stresses me out, and I only do marginally well with stress.  Marginally well meaning worrying non-stop and crying and cursing my workload and circumstances.

In the midst of this, I'm blessed, though.  Next week I'm going to be in a play (April 1st and 2nd) , and we have rehearsals every morning, every day.  We've only practiced two times before this, so I'm just glad I'll be better before then.  It wouldn't do to have Rosa Luna, la cocinera mexicana especial, ill during play week.  I'd have no clue what I was doing.
And it's spring break next week, so I'll be able to catch up on homework.  Yay timing.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Rebellion: Conversations

Most of the time when I get inspiration for Rebellion, it's not like I get another piece of the storyline.  I get a tidbit, a snippet of conversation.  Like this one, that's been stuck in my computer for almost two years now:

Farrington chuckled from his seat beside the tent flap, his splayed posture telling Kaori he didn’t much care about anything she could say.  “So, what is it then, this rebellion?” he asked as she passed, raising an eyebrow languidly.  “Patricide?”
Kaori paused in the exit.  “No,” she replied, not bothering to turn and look at him before leaving the tent.  “It’s suicide.”

Monday, March 14, 2011

Inkheart: An Interview

So I was bored and inspired last night and wrote some instead of sleeping.  In fact, I interviewed myself again!  And I know you all think very little is more scintillating than listening to me talk to myself, so here I am posting it for your enjoyment.  Yay and stuff.

Me: So you just watched Inkheart last night, right?
I: Yep!  I love that movie.  Farhid is the best ever.  He makes me grin.

Me: Have you read the book?
I: Sadly, no.  I got it from the library one summer a few years ago, but I was younger and busy reading other books and I didn’t ever get around to reading it because it looked so long, so it just went back without being opened.  I ought to read it, when I have time.  It looks really good.

Me: What do you think about the idea that characters come to life if someone reads their story out loud?
I: Scary scary scary scary scary.  That’s all I can say.  Zeesh, that would be terrifying.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Update #13: Soul-Sick Medisin & Sky Prince

 Byahaha I learned how to make these posts smaller~  So if you want to read an older post, just click on the 'Read More' link to see the whole article.  Then you can COMMENT and tell me if you think it's easier to navigate this way.  I do, but maybe that's just me. ^_^

Monday I was listening to Gravedigging and Medisin by The Classic Crime (both of which are slightly darker songs) and Blaine/Caley was feeling tristifical.  Don't look at me like that, it is a word.  Means to make sorrowful, no joke.
So his being sad consequently made me a little sad, and I wrote him a drabble.  When he gets sad, though, his usually logical mind gets a little scrambled and impressionist, so we ended up with a weird mix of present, past, and future tenses and repetition.  I was going to fix it, but I think it works better this way.  It is a pain to read, sorry.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Concerning Favorite Songs

I've always dreaded that moment when one of my friends turns to me, eyes sparkling and inquisitive, and they take a breath to ask me the question I always cringe to hear: "What's your favorite song, Christina?"  I usually mamby-pamby around the question and say something incredibly intelligent like, "I don't know" or "I don't have one", biting my lip and hoping that they don't pursue it.
I don't have favorite songs.  There's a really simple reason for this:  I love all of the music I listen to.  I don't think it's fair to say "This is my favorite song" or  "This song is THE BEST" because quite frankly, I remain in awe of the people who create the music I listen to no matter what what they're playing.  I respect them too much to put them over each other.  They work so hard and create such beauty that saying "That is the best song in the world" is unfair and slightly immature of me.  I understand it's opinion, but still.  I don't like sticking labels on them.
Besides, I'm wishy-washy-- and I mean, really wishy-washy.  I'd say a song is great and the next day I'd say that this other song was better.  People would ask me and the answer would change from day to day.  It's just the way I am:  I have consistence issues with my opinions.
Not saying that there aren't songs that I'll listen to over and over.  But favorites?  I find it hard to pinpoint a favorite song in good conscious.
So here's a list of Christina's Top Ten Twenty Bunch Of Songs That She'll Listen To Over And Over (Not Favorites). Sorry, I got a little carried away.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Somewhere On The Battlefield: Update #12

Yep, another one.
Hey, what can I say?  It's Thursday.  I should be doing homework.  Instead I'm blogging.  Yes, I do stink.

Anyway.  I had to write this for school, so that counts for something. (No it doesn't.)  We're getting ready to study poetry and fiction after doing a 10-page research paper (Read: the writing assignment of your nightmares), so that means more writing for me and more reading for you!  Who's excited?  I AM!
This is supposed to be free verse. Yep.

This is from the viewpoint of Scott, a secondary character from a story that none of you have read because I haven't written it.  He's the assistant to the commander (Kaori Tsutsuba, who I've mentioned before) of a rebel army.  Their story is one of destruction and impossible odds, the struggle of trying to create the most morally upright country they can from the rubble of a motherland that was once great but has fallen to brutal depravity.

Their story is my driving one, I think.  If I only ever get one thing published, only one book to be tragically and achingly beautiful, I want it to be this one.  I haven't started writing it yet because I want to get better, good enough to feel comfortable starting it.  I need to do a lot more research before I can even think about beginning, most of which has to do with the Civil War and the Founding Fathers.  Which, quite frankly, is good for me, because I love history.  *coughcoughtlrcoughcough*

This was going to be just another update, but I guess you got a little blurb about Rebellion at the same time.  Oopsies. ^///^