A little B&W treat for everybody

Play Black and White on Kongregate.

One-Shot: Carbon Soul (may be extended)

 

Humanity despises a creature it cannot see, and so it despised Carbon. One who looked upon Carbon went slowly insane, but not before they could relate what they'd seen to others. And those, too, would explore the earthy depths of the world and find the oldest living life form, born before this universe began; a privileged few heard her speak to them, listened for hours, and passed the knowledge she had related to them on. But eventually, when those who knew of her existence began to notice the insanity of Carbon's viewers, they wore blindfolds to protect themselves. As more of these people survived and remained sane, they gained a following. A local newspaper had a field day when a reporter spotted a group of blindfolded men and women descending into a dark cave beneath the ground, but no one reads small-town rags, anyway.

Carbon was kind to the life forms whose distant ancestors she had also known when they were little more than prokaryotic cells on the face of a waterless, treeless planet. Long ago, she had found this hunk of useless space rock and forced it to create life, because that is what those of Carbon's like were meant to do. They knew no higher authority - they were as gods, to spread the concept of existence through this universe, and all universes that would ever be.

Maybe they were gods.

The blindfolded men and women had become a culture, a family in and of themselves. They began to worship Carbon; they wrote a book on Carbon's accounts of the universe. She told them that she always had been, and always would be. She told them that not only did she maintain the natural laws as humanity knew them, but she was the natural laws, incarnate; her death, though impossible, would destroy all gravity, all physics, all processes of evolution. She had not caused the creatures of this world to become as they were - only enabled it.

Carbon could be more human than her followers could imagine, but she was also so completely something else that they could never forget who or what she was. Her "cult" had long forgotten what she looked like. She told them that she was everything and nothing, all at once; but that didn't satisfy anyone, so she simply said, "I have six arms, two legs, four wings and three tails." They were satisfied with that, to a point.

Centuries passed before one of her followers found a reason to doubt her authority, to challenge her. His name was Alix Caughneight, and the year 2500 CE had come and gone.

"Carbon," he asked, his blue blindfold wrapped tight, "you told us, long ago, that you could not be killed, but were it to be so, the natural laws of... evolution... would be a moot point, yes?"

"That and other things."

"But what if we were to... remove your soul?"

"It cannot be done."

"Break it, then?"

She paused. "One only wonders where your curiosity stems from, my child."

"I simply wonder about how the world works," he replied.

Carbon would not answer. But Alix knew it to be true. He researched all sorts of old records in the books where Carbon's wisdom had been recorded; he studied the texts of old religions from centuries before. And eventually he discovered how to shatter a soul.

Carbon discovered his plans and ripped away his blindfold as he greeted her, staring into his eyes. She was a sight to behold. Indeed, her description of herself had been true enough, but it didn't describe her as she truly was. She did, indeed, have six arms and two legs. As she moved, she was like a centipede, each finger scraping across the ground until she reared back on her legs and one pair of arms, her other two pairs reaching out to grab or push things aside. The pair closest to her head had four fingers; the next pair, five; the next, four; and she had six toes on each foot. In each limb, and on her sides, her skeletal structure was very distinctive and clear - her middle two pairs of arms had two more joints than any natural earth creature's.

She did, in fact, have three tails, all branching off of her spine; they were long and muscled, like snakes, but a dim, washed-out green comprised of not scales, but some other... skin sort of thing. They whipped around, slicing through tiny rocks as they would collide. And she did, in fact, have two sets of wings - feathered, but indescribably, completely unlike any bird's. Spines ran down her back, horns curled up from in front of her ears; her skull was halfway between a human's and a cat's; her mouth was like an owl's beak, but as she spoke, four rows of teeth on the top and bottom of her mouth glistened threateningly. But worst, oh, worst were her eyes, the flat yellow eyes of an old, decaying god.

Alix Caughneight killed himself that night, while the noises of the early spring crickets sang everyone else to sleep.

But his ideas refused to die. His father, mother, wife, and only child - all blindfolded followers of Carbon - discovered him, discovered his studies, and figured out what must have happened. A miniature battle went on between his family and those who still believed in Carbon, trusted her - but the Caughneight family gained supporters and sympathizers.

There was a brief struggle on the surface of the Earth, eventually - and the Caughtneights won.

On the last day of April, they approached Carbon in her underground dwelling, and Alix's widow stepped forward.

"Creature," she said, "considering your revelations and my husband's untimely insanity and death, we have come to break your soul. We no longer want your natural laws. Were they gone... we would evolve. Become that of which humanity dreams: grow wings, gills, rid ourselves of life-altering genetic illnesses. Alix only wanted what was best for our species, and you were selfish enough to kill him to spare your own life."

Carbon responded, "You do not want to do this."

"I do."

"You don't. You do not understand that to kill a god is to kill yourself ninety times over. That the laws that I hold power over keep you safe. That manipulating them is not so easy as you make it sound. Barring that, child, I can never truly die."

She only said, "I know." And she took a deep breath and removed her blindfold and stepped forward, and before Carbon could even look at her, she drew a hidden gun from her coat pocket and shot it into her skull, feeling the spells that Carbon herself had given them centuries before take effect.

Carbon felt the spells, felt Alix's widow die. And then, as she knew it would, she felt the force of the girl's soul rushing from her body puncture her own spirit, shatter it into pieces.

"I promise you," she murmured, "that you will regret this. A rubber band only stretches so far before it snaps."

And with a last glance at the corpse of the widow, she collapsed to the ground - unthinking, unmoving - a soulless creature, put into a deep sleep caused by a distinct lack of a quality of being that every living creature has.

Her soul had broken into billions of tiny pieces, yes - but they congealed as if magnetized to each other. Forced to vacate Carbon's body, they searched for another vessel... but what on earth could fit the soul of a god? They were forced to divide themselves.

Across the continent, six deformed newborns opened their dull, yellow eyes...

Stress, stress, stress.

Important semester-grade Biology tests on Monday and History that I didn't study and Geometry that I didn't even pay attention to this chapter on Wednesday. I don't have time to get on the computer, or let my rabbits out, or anything. I'd like to do a Let's Play of Majora's Mask for kicks or Alice: Madness Returns when it comes out in June, but I simply don't have time. Classes are spiraling into a horrible downward slide at a hundred and seventy degrees toward breakdown mode, by which I mean that it's getting to me.

I don't want to read Romeo and Juliet for the third time in as many years. I don't want to study ecosystems. I don't want to have obligations, responsibilities.

But I do. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Rio" and "Hop"

Rio was good mostly for the character design (i.e. the cockatoo villain, the crazy ornithologist, the awkward blue macaw Blu) and the very nice use of music and ambience. The variety of colors and the Black Eyed Peas actually worked very well for this movie. They didn't explore a lot of avenues that they probably should have (for instance, what kind of relationship were the woman, the ornithologist, and the little boy in at the end? I don't have a clear answer, even in retrospect). A lot of it felt very rushed - the premise in Minnesota (why did Blu's owner change her mind about letting him go to Rio de Janeiro?), the escape scene from the plane (Jewel giving up hope and Blu suddenly getting confident). But the rest... very fun. I loved the way they designed the people - large heads, skinny bodies, which made for good expression - and the blue macaws especially, because they had bodies that hadn't been anthropomorphized in the least, and they never once used their feathers as fingers, which has been a big thing for me for a while - call it a pet peeve. The script, while slightly rushed, as I said, was, overall, very entertaining, and delivered a lot of character development in effective, tiny packages, which made me actually cheer on the characters on occasion. I'm a person of plot and while it lacked a bit in that area, it also didn't completely make me go insane... so kudos!

However, Hop, like I very widely suspected it was going to be, and was dragged along to see with my family, was... frankly, agonizing. Think Alvin and the Chipmunks meets coming-of-age story meets... well, holiday-themed movie. If anyone's ever seen an animated film on the premise of a holiday that wasn't awful, please do tell what it was, because I want to prove you wrong. Frankly, for one, the music usage in this movie was horrible. The characters were supposed to be sympathetic, but I just ended up hating them for being stupid and complaining too much. (For instance: rabbit seeks shelter in playboy bunny mansion. Gets rejected after brief misunderstanding. Launch into loud, badly timed Guns 'n' Roses - "Every Rose Has Its Thorn," no less - then cut to "how could this day get any worse?!" Yeah, sure, your single homeless night in Hollywood has been awful, especially since you're a rabbit, and god forbid you sleep outdoors). People made decisions for little to no reason ("I've known I'm going to be the Easter bunny for, what, twenty years - never mind that rabbits apparently live for upwards of forty years, that bit's not important as long as the human timeline is kept consistent - and now that my dad's called my drumming thing a hobby, I suppose I'll run away with no forethought!"). And the writer(s) did a very bad thing in telling us how it was going to end at the very ending. At the very beginning, the narrator says, "I was the first Easter bunny! Here's how it happened." And so, I spent the entire movie, not wondering what was going to happen next, but instead thinking, When, WHEN is this story finally going to advance a little and this guy'll have his Easter bunny epiphany or whatever and the drumming rabbit will achieve his dreams blah blah blah? That was probably the biggest downfall of the film... no matter how nice it looked. To all those reviewers out there who said, "it sucked, but it's a kid movie, so whatever": for one, wouldn't you like your future generations to be allowed to view something more stimulating than this shit? And for two, not even children would like this movie.

A Catalog of Characters

If this says anything about my favorite tropes... Here's an ongoing catalog of a lot of my story/art characters, by story universe, each with a link or two to TV Tropes that describes their personality, story role, or, more often, superpowers/abilities/magic/juju. Whatever floats my boat.

And why, you ask? Just for kicks. Hahaha.

Renaissance Faire - Little Miss Badass, Hellhound
Avalesq - You Are Who You Eat
Severine - The Shadow Knows, Grand Theft Me

Anachron - Living Shadow
Tesla - Heart Drive, Pulling Themselves Together

Naime - Wrench Wench, Superpowered Evil Side
Baltimore - Career Killer, In Love With the Mark

CARBON - Eldritch Abomination, Mind Hive, Gone Horribly Right
Cale - Big Bad Ass Wolf, Our Werewolves Are Different
Abel - Beware My Stinger Tail, Wolverine Claws
Rena - Multiarmed and Dangerous, Combat Tentacles
Becker - Winged Humanoid, Missing Time
Ophelia - Poisonous Person, Femme Fatale
Nathaniel - From Nobody to Nightmare, Black Magic
Eliza - Break the Cutie, Berserk Button

Katy - Playing With Fire, Power Incontinence
Relic - Living Weapon

Constantly in progress. I have a bajillion characters.

Music role models

Tori Amos, because she's so diverse, and can pull off that throat-singing wailing kind of bluesy stuff she does Her lyrics have been giving me artistic inspiration for ages and ages. Favorite songs: Leather, Mr. Zebra, God, Cornflake Girl, Flying Dutchman, Little Amsterdam.

KT Tunstall, or at least her older stuff from - I believe - "Other Side of the Telescope"? I've loved those songs since I first heard them. She has a simple, beautiful sense of order to her songs, I think, that makes them so peaceful... and yet exciting? It's difficult to describe. Favorite songs: Other Side of the World, Universe and U, Heal Over, Suddenly I See.

Matchbox Twenty, one of the only male bands I've loved for ever and ever. Ever since Unwell. And now I have their whole album "More Than You Think You Are" memorized front to back and have never tired of it, and other songs besides. Favorite songs: Disease, Cold, Hand Me Down, Downfall, Push.

Nightwish, but mostly just their newer stuff. Try as I might, I can't find anyone else like them. Their new singer (as in, not Tarja) handles their themes much better than Tarja ever, but I'm still attached to "Wish I Had an Angel" because it was the first I heard. Something about orchestra and thrash metal... awesome. Favorite songs: Wish I Had an Angel, The Poet and the Pendulum, Sahara, Master Passion Greed, Moondance.

Jewel, though I only have her one album ("Pieces of You") and heard she got more... commercial? But this album is absolutely gorgeous, musically and thematically. Anyway, I remember doing "Who Will Save Your Soul" in the Musical Theater intro, and listening to "Pieces of You" when I was just a little twerp and my mom covered my ears when she said "faggot." Favorite songs: Who Will Save Your Soul, Little Sister, Foolish Games, I'm Sensitive, Daddy.

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I've loved everything they've done - electronica, pop, disco. Everything. Their singer has a certain... charisma, I suppose, that makes her voice very enthusiastic-sounding and vibrant. Best of all is the amazing guitar. Favorite songs: Dull Life, Phenomena, Heads Will Roll, Kiss Kiss, Dragon Queen.

The Ting Tings. Yeah, I'm a guilty Ting Tings fan. Enough said. Favorite songs: Shut Up and Let Me Go, Great DJ, That's Not My Name, Fruit Machine.

The Asteroids Galaxy Tour. I first saw them on an iPod commercial, I believe, with their "Around the Bend," and looked them up and instantly loved them. Another super inspirational group that's provided a lot of art fodder. The singer has some sort of disease that makes her voice sound like a whiny rock angel. Favorite songs: Around the Bend (stickin' to my nostalgia!), Push the Envelope, Lady Jesus, The Golden Age.

Flight of the Conchords. My favorite group for... a long time. So they're not "real music," according to a lot of people - they're a folk comedy band - but I can't remember a moment that I haven't been infatuated with them. I have about three posters of theirs on my wall as we speak. My best friend and I made a pact to be as awesome as they are when we "grow up." Favorite songs: Jenny; Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros; Robots; Boom; Bret, You've Got it Going On.

Have a glimpse at my lame homework!

Which will be deleted immediately, because I use my blog as a makeshift USB drive...


The Temperate Grassland
1. Plants and animals: Obviously, in a grassland, there will be lots of... grass. What will not be there is many trees, though there will be some. Our grassland is not continent-specific, particularly, but as it is the first grassland that comes to mind when one thinks "temperate," there will be a mild focus on the North American prairie, but also the African grasslands. As such, we intend to have several different exhibits in the zoo - all outdoors. A large portion will be dedicated to this biome because many of the inhabitants are grazers (e.g. the zebra and the Przewalski's horse). Other animals include the following: the American bison, the pronghorn, the black-tailed prairie dog, and the giraffe.

The Desert
1. Plants and animals: As North American climate changes are a lot different from those of (for example) the African Sahara, this exhibit will be indoors. In each exhibit there will be a lot of sand and dry soil, from which we will grow several different varieties of cacti, as well as hardy underbrush/grasses. One very large room with a high ceiling will be dedicated to bactrian (two-humped) camels. In another room, there will be a Fennec fox, meerkat (semi-desert), and a larger Arabian oryx exhibit behind glass, and a similar, but smaller, exhibit for the Armadillo lizard.

Temperate Deciduous
1. Plants and animals: deciduous trees thrive both in this biome and this area, so in this region of the zoo, there will be many of these trees - Red Maple, Pink Dogwood, and White Oak and American Elm as well, making it very colorful and decorative. The animals included here, all outdoors, will be the American black bear, the koala, the pine marten, the raccoon, and the capybara. In a very small building with only two rooms (and one for behind-the-scenes maintenance) will be the pallid bat, indoors so that a night condition can be maintained in the day and vice versa for visitors.

Taiga
1. Plants and animals: As the taiga is essentially a forest with a harsh winter climate and a lot of coniferous trees, that is what this area will contain - pine, Douglas fir, etc. Exhibits will be outdoors, but directly next to large buildings in case the outdoor climate no longer reflects their environment, with aerial cooling systems when necessary. In this area we will have (in a large area behind glass) the gray wolf and the moose (separately, of course); wolverines; and a small, enclosed area for the snowshoe hare.



http://www.blueplanetbiomes.org/taiga.htm
The Complete Book of Animals by Tom Jackson

That moment where you see someone you haven't seen in a long time,

...just coincidentally, and you get excited and hug and grin and then you have to go and you're so disappointed but your day is brightened exponentially just that you got to see them.

And that's when I realized that I miss my old friends from my old school, no matter what I might say. (This particular friend, actually, I miss a lot, and openly, but that's not the point.) I lived with those people for 12+ years... it hurts to not see them anymore.

And I saw another one from across the street, but couldn't say hi. But I waved, and he noticed me and waved back really excitedly and that gave me a temporary high too, because I didn't know we were that good of friends. But I guess we were. And yeah, looking back on that now, most of my fond memories of last year were because of him, or at least had him in them.

I want to talk to these people. And for once in my life, actually, I think I will.

Creepers! Use the minecart!

No, no, just kidding about the Minecraft reference. Actually, I was talking about two guys who were hassling me on the street the other day. I was walking down the sidewalk when they made some very... obviously sexual remarks to me, and I sprinted in the nearby building and didn't even wait for the elevator, just went into the stairwell and sprinted up until I found someone else.

And now I'm having issues walking in the street - thinking, everyone's out to get me, anyone could want to hurt me. Anyone here. I had problems at the library today when a woman asked what I was drawing. I seriously had panicky problems where I kept glancing around and memorizing what she looked like so that I could report her if she said anything, and then I realized that I was being ridiculous.

This is bad. Especially considering that my classes are right smack in the middle of a city. I need to get a hold on myself.

My weird brain, and muse.

I'm an author and artist by nature - seriously, sometimes it seems like either A) all I do is draw and write, or B) all I like to do is draw and write - and as a result, my "artistic muse" likes to manifest itself in weird forms.

Like... a year or so ago, I had a muse named Ae (or something like that). She was about ten, had blue-black hair, wore a white flannel nightgown, carried around an old brown teddy bear, and had soulless eyes. And sometimes mutilated things in a bloody fashion. The usual, you know, haunted-house-fodder, creepy little girl.

Now I have something worse. I now have a grand total of four muses.

The first is Lucas. He's blonde, occasionally snarky, and has huge white wings. He's also the kind of guy who helps tiny children off the sidewalk when they fall and scrape their knees. He's pretty much in charge of all my pretty boy characters, my heroic plots, and a good portion of my dramatic settings.

The second is... a nameless girl, I guess... right now I call her Alexa. Also blonde, really snide and sarcastic, wears bright red lipstick, smokes sometimes, has wings sometimes - aesthetically, she's basically Lucas' body double. She also has a habit of wearing Greek togas and making racist and sexist jokes (even though she's a girl - she doesn't take them to heart, I don't think). She's in charge of all of my "femme fatale" and 20s-esque characters, my bloody-but-not-gory scenes and ideas, and most of the "casually M-rated" scenes in my head such as drugs/alcohol/bad habits, sex and violence.

The third is Felix. He has dark, dark brown hair and blue eyes and nothing nonhuman to speak of (besides muse-magic, haha) - an oddity for one of my creations. He has a penchant for chocolate and also adrenaline rushes like parachuting and casual fighting. He's in charge of most emotion-charged scenes or ideas; really gorgeous detail on things like lace, embellished weapons, and wall decorations; and animal characters. He's also got his manly side, though. He's responsible for my obsession with humans themselves and muscular/skeletal anatomy... and most characters who speak any language other than English (such as my Russian-speaking Moth or my French-speaking Mehex).

The fourth, and last, is Sullivan - Felix's aesthetic female equivalent, with brown eyes and more rich brown hair, cut in a messy, spiky fashion. She's also very, very pale. She usually is wearing a uniform of some sort, and working on creating something of her own - usually mechanical. She's the closest of the four to my old Ae, just... grown up, and less bloody. She's in charge of all of my technical or mechanical drawings - robots, anatomical studies (she and Felix work together very often), clothing and costume design, a lot of character design (appearance-wise), uniforms, buildings, maps, cities, countries, civilizations, and most worldbuilding.

And right now, Sullivan and Alexa have me in their grasp. Sullivan, idea-wise, but Alexa content-wise... that make any sense? I want a world to unfold in my mind and perhaps in my writing, thanks to Sully, but Alexa demands bloody artwork right now.

Hello, Mr. Zebra...

Ran into some confusion
With a Mrs. Crocodile-dile-dile
...Furry muscles, marching on
She thinks she's Kaiser Wilhelm
or a civilized syllabub
to blow your mind....


Hello, Mr. Zebra. by =Fayrenaissance on deviantART

Figure it out.
She... she's a good-time fellow
"Too bad the burial was premature," she said with a smile.

Made myself do something, at least.

I dug myself out of my hole. (Existentialists do it pointlessly!) I ate a delicious salad that my mom made, with her homemade dressing and whatnot. I made myself start an art trade with an online friend. And uphill from there, with my father suggesting that I should draw the Christmas cards this year.

Now, I need to get back into my acrylics practice. And then, I need to write. And tomorrow I'm going to do my work before I go meet up with my Biology partner at the library. All is well, because I make it well.

I hate it when a day feels so pointless.

It's Saturday, and I've been begging for the weekend to arrive all week, so what's wrong with me? I want to do so much - write poetry, do my homework assignments, talk to friends, finish some art trades/commissions, listen to music, continue writing my story, buy Mass Effect 2 before it goes out of stores - no, buy Dragon Age 2 (I love you, Bioware) - no, I want to get on deviantArt - no, Facebook, I haven't gotten on FB for a month...

And now it's 4:45 PM and I've done nothing productive - so much nothing.

And there's this looming sense of do it now! There's no time during the week! Do it now! Now!

But I have nothing to do - and yet, too much. I'm drowning in my own uselessness.

I did accomplish one thing today, though. I formulated a pattern of prayers for my pagan rosary. Feels good to get something done. Feels bad to know that I did it just to have something to do.

I need a de-stressor. When I am getting stressed about having too many fun things to do... I've hit a point that I need to back away from. Quickly.

Review of Jennifer Donnelly's The Tea Rose

Very mild spoiler alert.

It's been a while since I reviewed a book, and for good reason - bad books don't tempt me, and good books haven't found me. I'm not entirely sure what I think of this one. I snagged it off of a relative's shelf. I usually read YA fiction, but recently the genre has grown so tedious and repetitive that I decided to take a chance on adult fiction. (Seriously, been in a YA section lately? There are two categories: paranormal romance, and high school romance. And then decent fantasy, but Tamora Pierce, and maybe Holly Black, don't count. Digging through YA to find the good stuff is like rummaging through a vat of electric eels to find a kernel of corn.)

Anyway, I'm glad I picked up this book, for one. It taught me that adult fiction/romance isn't necessarily totally awful, like most of it has been for me (I guess I just snagged the bad ones, or this one was an exception?).

For one, the characters felt real to me - or at the very least, the main character, Fiona Finnegan, did. I empathized with her the whole way through the book (or at least most of the time). She always felt real. Unfortunately, the main love interest, Joe, did not. Except at the very beginning, I simply could not figure out why she loved him so much, and Joe struck me as a person who, at times, was as dumb as a sack of rocks on a parasail above the Atlantic Ocean.

The descriptions were admirable at times, excellent at best, and decent at worst. I feel like I got a good feel for what Whitechapel is like, despite having never been to England. On the other hand, the villains felt unreal. Not like a murderer or hardened criminal from your worst nightmares. More like the plastic toys from your worst nightmares.

When it came to the descriptions of business - a concept on which the story hinges largely - all I can say is that I now feel eager to open my own shop and go out and make my own fortune, because the way that Donnelly described it, I feel like I understand all there is to know about entrepreneurship now.

And I'd have to say my favorite character was Nick Soames. First I feared that he was going to be the Replacement Love Interest. Then, the Stereotypical Gay Friend. He defied both of my lousy expectations and was average, at least, as a character. But as the story progressed, and there was a time skip briefly after a court interlude (and to say any more would definitely be major spoilers, I believe), and the chapters following that made him shine as a person and as a character.

Overall, I feel this book deserves about an 8 out of 10. I feel like I'm being just a tad generous, but in any case, Jennifer Donnelly certainly knows how to capture my attention, which is admirable, seeing as the book had more than eighty chapters. For that alone, I'll give it my recommendation, if "Victoriandustrial" is your thing.

Clarion West

Clarion West. It sounds like a six-week-long manifestation of the inner workings of my soul. Eighteen writers, thriving and growing, flailing about, losing hope and gaining it back just as quickly and twice as hard, staying up until five in the morning knowing you need sleep but desperate to just finish this story? It sounds like heaven to me. Seriously, when I think heaven, I think this. Fuck criticism, fuck compliments - I can take it, I can improve, I can learn. I can thrive in that environment. I've completed three years of NaNoWriMo, haven't I? I can take this on.

I have four years until I'm eighteen. I have four years to save up money. I have four years, four years, four years. I'll apply for the scholarships. I'll save - by god I'll save. I want this so bad. I'll write the best short story I've ever written just to get in. I'll get two summer jobs and one year-long job if I have to, just to get this money. I don't know how much it costs... I asked. No answer yet. But I hope there will be. Because I need this - something like this, so, so so bad.

More complaints about the asshat

As promised, a brief rant. Because it'll make me feel like I'm right. And apparently, that's the thrill everyone's after nowadays.

Have you ever met one of those people who just absolutely had to be right? They couldn't just defer - they just constantly pick arguments about things that don't matter, like how I shouldn't say that I'm just using intuition to do this grammar worksheet because pretty much everyone in the class does the same thing and it sounded like I was implying that I was special, or perhaps Even though it goes against my personal moral code, I'm totally listening to a conversation I promised not to listen to, so would I please step ten feet back so that you can talk about things that don't matter with my best friend, with whom I'd just like to spend a little time with? Or... well, you get it.

Geez. I just want to hit him sometimes. It's the arguments - the constant arguments about things that don't matter. God, we used to be best friends, and now he's so fucking right all of the time. I'm going to call it rightallthetimeitis. Or maybe just use my Latin roots. It's just headitis - he's gotten all inflated over himself and now he's got a big head. Which I'd desperately love to knock off.

It's stuff like this that I get angry about and stress over and has me going back to a therapist I haven't seen in a year. Geez.

But back to the point - there's one argument we have over and over again. Over and over. He thinks I'm being ridiculous, and I think he's being utterly stupid. He thinks I'm not using any semblance of logic at all and I think... well, he's being utterly stupid.

Here's the lowdown: after a long, multiple-year slog through multiple religions, he has apparently now settled on hardcore atheism.

No, no, I have nothing against atheists or atheism. I was once a heavy agnostic, then an atheist for a solid year, before finding a religion that made some sense to me. But...

It just seems to me that he is using Atheism as a label for his Headitis. You can lather a pig in lavender soap and rub it down with the softest and most wonderful lotions before giving it a delicate bath in the most perfect and serene of hot springs... But it's still a pig, and you're still going to send it to the slaughter.

My reasoning behind this - 1: "The whole point of atheism is that religion is stupid." Quote and end quote. While he may believe this - and I'd have no problem with that, if he weren't so forceful about everyone else believing it too - that is not the whole point of atheism. I was an atheist once. I never thought religion was stupid. I know its psychological significance and what it can do for a person. I know how it can give someone hope or comfort or even - and forgive the cliche - solace. I have had and have atheist friends other than him. One, in particular, was my best friend for several years - the years in which I found my current religion. She heard me out, gave her opinions. I know, from experience, that atheism does not, necessarily, recognize that all religion is stupid.

2: His arguments for atheism. Whenever he gets the chance, he makes fun of organized Christianity, in particular. Sure, it'll sound joking, just for fun, the works. But I know him. I've known him for... what? upwards of five years? And he's so bad at his "jokes" and trying to make them seem both antagonizing and humorous. It's only funny to him. Consider the audience in this scene: me, a friend (who at first he assumed would take his side in the ensuing argument) whom he has known for upwards of two years is an eclectic pagan; a Methodist girl who dislikes him; a Catholic, conservative boy who on-and-off likes him; a Muslim boy who is incredibly devout, as far as I'm aware. He purposefully seeks us out and brings these jokes to us, trying to make off like it's funny. It's not.

He always, always "beats" me (and note the quotes) in these arguments. Simply because it gets to the point where I start to think it's all pointless and give up and, presumably, he thinks he's won some sort of mental trophy. Well, I call bullshit.

Usually, the "debate" (and that's in quotes because the word debate implies that both sides are willing to listen to the other's opinion) ends with something along the following lines -

Me: Look, you can't use your oh-so-logical arguments to convince a devout Christian that their faith is stupid and that they should drop it like a hot rock and convert to atheism and instantly believe you because you prevent a few arguments.
Him: Yes, I can, because logically, religion doesn't exist.
Me: Logically, no, but the whole concept of religion is that you believe in something without proof. That's why it's called faith. Say you're right, and there is no god or life force or whatever out there. We have no way of knowing. But no matter how many logical arguments you present, they will never work, because logic operates on a different level than faith. It's apples and oranges.
Him: But there is no proof that any god exists! God is a delusion... do you really want to live under a delusion?
Me: If it makes me happy and gives me a sense of acceptance and contentment? Fuck yes.
Him: (I'll admit, actually, that at this point it usually goes down into stupid stuff that I can't even remember - presumably because it usually makes me mad, no matter what argument he uses, and I get the Red Tint of Anger and things go a tad hazy.)

It pissed him off that, originally, when this first started happening, I didn't take his side in that little group I described before. He turned to a boy, said, "But logically, that doesn't make sense. I mean, Inky just said -"

I stopped him cold. I said, "Don't drag me onto your side. I may not be Christian but you seem to have forgotten that I do, in fact, believe in a god."

I don't know. Something about him and his damnable "logic" just anger me in a way that African poverty never could or will. If he's so logical then why can't he deduce that no one besides him is ever going to believe exactly as he does, and he needs to get over his own head, then pull it out of his ass, then put his fucking pants back on and get on with his life?

I feel old for my age, sometimes. And then there are times like these, where I don't.

Butter toffee and syncretist religion.

That's what tonight has been all about. School wears on me, and so I ignored the professors for a day and just read a book I snagged from my grandmother's shelf - a thick paperback, a post-industrial romantic/business/hints of mystery novel called The Tea Rose by Jennifer Donnelly. I finished it this afternoon, procrastinated on my essay as long as possible, just like I am now.

I made myself some butter toffee coffee. Of course it smells more like butter toffee than it tastes - I take my "sweet" coffees (as if) just plain and black. Unusual for a fourteen-year-old girl. But I've grown to enjoy it.

So now, tonight, I finish that essay I believe I wrote about forever ago. Goodness, but it's boring - writing a Works Cited page over the eighth time, putting in signal phrases and varied sentence structures and all sorts of boring whatnots that I never have to think about when I write fiction - because fiction flows smoothly from my brain. So prettily. So fast. So... energetic. But school is just... forced. I have no passion for what I'm writing. Just persistence - a teeth-gritting, furrowed-brow persistence.

(Goodness, it's late. Phys-Ed is going to be hellish tomorrow.)

I feel an idea in my brain. It's sprouted from an old, old idea and an old, old, OLD character that I've made anew, and now it wants to grow. But all the schoolwork is crowding out its light and its food and its water and it can't get out, and it'll fester and die in there.

That's why I always start to falter near the end of the school year. Springtime brings me ideas - the heavy misery of cold, cold winter ends, finally, and ideas begin to form, but all of my responsibilities consume the time I need to bring them to fruition. Fuck.

If I finish this essay and I'm not tired, I'll write about a writing program I want to get into, then about a boy I can't stop arguing with (the asshat). And then, I'll sleep, like my creative, creative soul EVENTUALLY needs to do, no matter how much it protests.

Ah, and yes, that was sarcasm. Or it wasn't... to be honest, I'm too frayed to be able to tell, at the moment.

Guerilla Gardening

This year I've begun to feel this weird, unfounded urge to grow something. It started with a Venus flytrap that never grew - there were two tiny seeds in the packet, and neither worked.

Earlier this year I took in two baby rabbits - Zinnia and Fiona. My mom, as usual, said something akin to "weird names, huh?" I told her that I hate pet names (my friend said she'd name Fiona "One Sock," for example) and wanted people names for my intelligent rabbits. Fiona is Irish, and Zinnia is, well, a flower.

My mom apparently went out and purchased a bunch of Zinnia sprouts, and handed them to me, and said, "Here, Inky! Some zinnias!" And she smiled, and I do like flowers, I suppose. Even if zinnias aren't my favorite - actually, some of my least favorite. But... hey.

My dad suggested a garden for the outdoors, just to himself, and I said I'd like to join in. He asked what I wanted to grow, and randomly, out of my mouth, popped, "Sunflowers."

So he got me a starter kit and two packets of sunflower seeds - one that will get incredibly tall, up to thirteen feet, maybe more. There were a lot of those. Then, in another packet, were cutting sunflowers - short, but really intended for arrangements and bouquets.

I planted them. They're seedlings now, despite my rabbits' running around and trampling the seedlings a bit. But I moved them, and already, without the flowers - just the sprouts - they turn towards the sun. It's fascinating.

The tall ones... well, I have extra seeds. I could plant them outside and grow them from scratch there. Or, I decided, I could go to the city - some abandoned place, some pathetic patch of dirt outside a McDonald's parking lot or to the side of a construction site - and plant them there. Guerrilla gardening.

Okay, technically, it's illegal.

Maybe I'll leave a note saying, "Something's planted here to make your day brighter. Water me" - and then an arrow to the seed - "and I'll surprise you."

I won't sign it, of course, but that's exactly the point. I don't want to. It's more happy that way - more endearingly anonymous, and more fun when you see people smile because of a lone sunflower standing where it shouldn't.

Or, on the other hand, maybe I'll plant mint in the yard of the next person who makes me mad. Mint gets out of control fast. And if it's my neighbor... well, better smelling outdoorsy air for all of us, then... :)

Dragon Age: Origins

I suppose there are kind of some DA:O spoilers in here, so read at your own risk. But personally, I think it's not bad unless you're into the quest and know the context. Anyway, do whatever you want.

After grind-playing for a week (this was about a month and a half ago) and getting about half a dungeon away (in the Orzammar quest chain) from the Landsmeet, something must have distracted me from the game, and I left it hanging in the middle of the Deep Roads (silly me, haha). Fortunately for me, Dragon Age 2 recently came out, and I cannot play it while the first Dragon Age still hangs on my conscience (though this game really, really excites me), and I honestly really DO want to finish this game because I love BioWare and everything they do (I want to be a video game designer/concept artist/coder when I "grow up," remember?).

So I got back in there. At the end of the Orzammar quest, I sided with Caridin (killed the evil soul-sucking leech hag named Branka, even though her ideas probably would've helped in the long run), then Harrowmont (even though I know that siding with C then H doesn't end well for him at the end, which thankfully is the only spoiler I happened upon).

I now get to go to the Landsmeet, hurray! Unfortunately I was pulled away to go visit family at the last moment. (But it was at the end of one of the main quest chains so I guess it was pretty awesome timing.)

Hm... let's see. Before I resumed randomly today, I did all of the other quests. I'm an elven mage, so I'm pretty much the most hated combination in the world. I also made myself as ugly as fuck accidentally - I'm a redhead with RED! hair and facial tattoos that looked good in character creation, but make me look, well, as ugly as fuck, in the actual game... Anyway.

In the Dalish elf chain, which was possibly my favorite if only for the Lady and her aesthetic and characteristic awesomeness - distraction - anyway, I made the evil elf curse guy give them their humanity back and apparently I sided with the elves in the end, according to the accomplishment I earned. In the village one I slaughtered the little possessed boy without going to the void (which I regret because I wanted the Blood Mage specialization and now I have to wait for the Alienage... AUUUGGHHHHH). Then I went off and sided against the cult for the Ashes... Actually, okay, I was kind of clever and saved before pouring the ashes in so that I'd get the Reaver specialization, then went back to the save and redid it the way I'd do it in real life (with a sense of morals) so that Alistair wouldn't disapprove and Leiliana wouldn't run away and Wynne wouldn't kill me and whatever else. I'd have been a one-man team, haha.

In the Circle of Magi one, I sided with the mages but didn't save them all... foo. (And there was this lulzy guy who had a crush on me, which I thought was amusing, because REPETITIVELY during this game I have been told that I am beautiful while we all know that I am as ugly as fuck). The Fade during that chain was really interesting at first but lost my patience after a while - a mage, questing by herself, fighting golems...? It irritated me, is all.

Character-wise, Leiliana is one of my faves. Morrigan too (ignoring her completely irritating way of speaking), but she doesn't like me much because I'm a good person, though I did complete her personal quest. Alistair is another one of my favorites and also my boyfriend, lucky me, but whatever. (Post-game, we probably make a bunch of irritating little Gray Warden babies. How cute/sickening!) Sten rounds up my group of favorites because he's awesome and anyone who operates on a nonpersonal, profession level is ironically my kind of guy. Let's see... Wynne is irritating. My dog (I named him something mythological that I can't remember... not Cerberus. I don't know) is neither especially cool nor especially annoying. I like Zevran for some reason. Oghren I like, but obviously haven't had long enough yet to grow attached to. Beyond that, I forget.

Now I have to stall and play on Jay Is Games to kill the game craving until I get back home on Sunday. :)

Get Back on the Horse

My little brother got a dirt bike for his birthday. Wouldn't touch it after he crashed straight into a tree... passed it to me. (Can you blame him? He's unused to having to exert effort to learn something. It goes against his grain.)

So I spent today trying to learn how to drive it, and I whizzed it around the backyard for about ten minutes before taking an epic spill by accidentally using too much acceleration, freaking out, then giving it MORE acceleration, meaning I went straight forward on the back wheel for about eight feet before flinging myself off of it, I was so scared.

Went in the house, washed off, came back out. Got back on the little torture instrument.

Drove around for about twenty more minutes. Accidentally went down a hill I knew I shouldn't have gone down - almost took an AWFUL wreck on the gravel driveway, but avoided it by braking (for the first time, since I couldn't figure out how to do the brake).

My dad laughed and helped me fix it and I managed to drive it back up the hill then back to the backyard. Insert ten more minutes. I finally get the hang of it, when - WHOOSH. Get going down a hill, a tad too fast... panic... accidentally pull the gas harder... freak out... accidentally give it ALL the gas.

It was something along the lines of WzzzzzzZZZZZZZZFZFZFZFZFZFZFZFZFSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHBOOM, WZZZZZzzzzzzzpffft.

So now I have a stiff, awkward, completely scraped up right leg from the first fall and a completely muscle-wrecked left shoulder/upper back from the last.

My father fears the day that I get my own car.