On the Organizing of One's Internets

So, I've been using the internet for, rather a long time. Made a facebook in January, 2009; posted my first blog post here in April of the same. Long time. Joined inkpop around the same time, and when it transferred to Figment, so did I.
Towards the beginning, I didn't really have a plan. New blog idea? Make a new Google account. You want my real name? Sure, here you go. Who would want to go looking for me? What harm could it do? Lose your Twitter password again? Just make a new account! Didn't think my usernames through, didn't occur to me that I might not eventually love these book or television characters enough to want to be called by their names on the internet. And, never dreamt of the inconvenience going by a billion different names could cause when you want to connect with the same group of people across more than one website. Basically, I made a royal mess, with more email addresses, passwords, and usernames than anyone should need. Managed to keep up with it all for this long, but no longer.
Because, here lately, it's been driving me nuts. On top of Facebook and Blogger and Figment, there's the other writing website for fanfiction, the joys of Tumblr, and all the different uses for Twitter. Plus, Google accounts started linking up with Google+ accounts, which one doesn't really want more than one of, especially not in one's own name, largely because, like I've always said, I don't really want people I know reading this blog!
It was time for a change, and I knew it, but the final straw was when the email address I've been using since I was thirteen went defunct. That was when I HAD to do something. So I spent the better part of a day reading Google help articles, combing through Youtube histories, arguing with Google Drive over letting me have my files, getting into ancient accounts to change email addresses and usernames; and by the end of the day I'd deleted four various accounts and organized everything into two very neat ones.
Why two? Because I'm about to be a missionary. Missionaries, as a rule, need some kind of support; and nothing helps support along like emotionally compelling blogs and twitter feeds about, well, what I'm up to (bonus points if you're a fantastic photographer and post pictures of the grinning faces of children you've been ministering to). I know that sounds cynical, but it's just the truth. I need to be track-able, to a certain extent, by people in my real life, and I have to have a way keep them updated with what I'm doing. So, the real me now has an internet presence, woohoo.
However, I don't want everything to happen under that 'me.' I still want to keep my writing and my Tumblring, as well as this, my personal blog, separate from all of that! Thus, person number two was born. The screen name that's been slowly taking over that side of my internet usage, is the name that I'm posting under now: Zoie. It's the pen-name I use on every writing website, every just-for-fun website that I've got a profile on. So, from now on, it's the name I'm posting under here, as well.
Thanks for your patience as I've been trying to figure this all out, for your indulgence as I try to change this from a fourteen-year-old drama queen's rantings, to a proper, grown-up blog-about-things, and your tolerance as I try to figure out just what, exactly, I want to call myself.

Public Service Announcement

So...NaNoWriMo starts in two hours.
*explodes*
For the record, I might not be blogging much over the course of the next thirty days. Then again, I might be blogging more than usual. Procrastination is a lovely thing.
Do feel free to join me, though. There should be a link to the home site on that > side of this post. Or, alternately, the young writer's program for young people. Also, follow @NaNoWriMo and @NaNoWordSprints, as well as the #NaNoWriMo hashtag on twitter for to-the-minute updates, and read the Office of Letters and Light (the nonprofit behind NaNo) blog for inspiration. Figment's got an official Figgie-Wrimo group; and the NaNoWriMo forums are endlessly helpful and supportive. Also, feel free to look me up on either website, Figment or NaNoWriMo, username Zoie Gale. If the thought of participating in this psychotic thirty-day mad-dash for 50k has even crossed your mind, do it. No, seriously, do it. You'll be glad you did. I've never once regretted it. If it's nothing else, it's a whole lot of fun, and it's not too late to sign up. :)
Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm gonna go snag a couple hours sleep before locking myself in the bathroom and converting the bathtub into a writing haven.

Hallowe'en

I stepped out my door about five minutes ago, after about two day straight of hiding from Sandy, and realized that the seasons had changed while I'd been inside. Leaves were whipping across the street in a chilly breeze. It's.....fall! One does have to be careful about blinking, doesn't one?
And it's not only Fall, It's Halloween. So this is what started running through my brain:

~ HALLOWEEN ~
By Harry Behn

Tonight is the night
When dead leaves fly
Like witches on switches
Across the sky,
When elf and sprite
Flit through the night
On a moony sheen.

Tonight is the night
When leaves make a sound
Like a gnome in his home
Under the ground,
When spooks and trolls
Creep out of holes 
Mossy and green.

Tonight is the night
When pumpkins stare
Through sheaves and leaves
Everywhere,
When ghouls and ghost 
And goblin host
Dance round their queen.
It's Halloween.

Memorized that one ages ago, but had forgotten most of it. I had to look it up, and I'd completely forgotten the poet's name. 

Also, the subject of ghouls and ghost and goblin host, go and download Neil Gaiman's super-creepy (and also free) audiobook 'Click-Clack the Rattlebag' before it's too late. Today's your last day. It's magnificent.

There'll probably be a post following this one later, another Halloween post, about the adventure of taking Riley trick-or-treating and hunting for Whovians in our sleepy little neighborhood, but, for the moment, Happy Halloween!

There and Back Again

So that Texas thing I was talking about? Totally happening. The urban mission where I applied to be a semester missionary liked the look of my application and accepted me, I'll be headed out first part of January.
First thought: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Second thought: I've got so much to do. This isn't a two-week missions trip with Global Expeditions. This is a nine-month commitment, and it takes a lot more effort. There's plane tickets to worry about, I've got to figure out the sweet spot of what clothes and stuff to take with me and what to buy there for optimum budget-friendly-ness, there's the question of piecing together my wardrobe (which is currently mostly in boxes in my grandmother's garage an hour away). And I have to have my plane ticket, to know what airline I'm flying with, to know the baggage allowances, to know how much I can take with me. Ugh.
There's the question of living arrangements. My room and board are covered, mostly, but I've got no idea where I'll be staying (and then there's the question of roommates and host families that very much affects what kind of stuff I'll need).
I'm also working to pull together a cook-book for myself of all those home-recipes I don't want to be without. Andrew and Daddy have agreed to record some guitar-ey stuff for me to put on my iPod to take with me.
I also have this sort of half-formed plan of organizing and streamlining my internet stuff for maximum convenience. The one thing I know about the time I'll spend there is that I'm going to be, well, rather busy. But I'd still like to keep up this, my personal blog, fairly faithfully; as well as start another (similar to the one I kept before/during/after my missions trip summer before last) for missions-specific stuff that's family/friends/real-life friendly, and maybe some kind of twitter-feed-ticker for both of them for updating on the go. This might take doing.

The one thing I have to keep hanging onto, even when plan and specifics threaten to take over my brain, is that this is God's will for my life right now. I need to remember to rest in that. Because it's a feeling I never, ever want to lose. Being in the center of God's will. It's nice.

Also, hope everybody's warm and dry and safely out of the angry clutches of Sandy McFrankenstorm. I know we had a bit of downed-power-line excitement last night. I also know that that's nothing compared to a lot of other places. My prayers are with everybody who lost family, friend, livelihood, home, or so on.

200th Post!!

So, erm, woohoo! :)

Lust for Life

(Post title being a reference to the biographical novel, bearing the same title, of the life of Vincent van Gogh, written by Irving Stone)

 I've been thinking about Vincent van Gogh. And about sunflowers. About how he's the reason that I love sunflowers. Because they make me think of the person I'd like to be. I'd like to be the sort of person who would've stood by him. I'd like to think I would've stood by him. Because he was spectacular, even though he was different and difficult and tragic. He deserved to have somebody stand by him, just one person to take his hand when the rest of the world turned their backs on him, to make his life better and brighter when it was dark, to give him hope and strength and quiet the demons in his head. And that's the person I'd like to be. I'd like to love the different and the difficult, and to be able to see the spectacular in the different and the difficult. 

I've been thinking of Vincent van Gogh. You know he started out his life wanting to be a missionary? His whole heart wanted to serve God and help people, and he was so willing to give up what he was born for to do it. He wound up in a mining town, trying to preach hope and redemption to people who had literally no way out, and he made himself sick trying to help them, gave them everything he had, down to the shirt on his back, to try and make their lives better. And he just saw too much of pain and hurt to go on believing in a good God. And then these people, the mission board, decided that he wasn't good enough to do what he was doing, and that was enough to make him snap, to turn his back on God. I've wondered why God would let that happen to someone who loved Him and only wanted to serve Him, but then I kind of realized: it took snapping and turning away from God for him to make a selfish decision. Without that, he never would've chosen to do what made him happy for the rest of his life. Cause he didn't paint for anyone else, not a soul ever told him that was he was doing was good, was worth it. He did it because he loved it. And think of what the world gained because of it? Maybe God let him go, pushed him away, to let him do what he was born to do, and to give the world a gift. Maybe what we think of as the selfish decision, can sometimes be the most beautiful thing of all.

New Beginnings

Maybe a bit of explanation is in order. Maybe I should stop quibbling and come out with the honest truth. Our landlords evicted us from our lovely little house, stating "a new business venture" as their only reason. With an utter lack of other options, we moved in with my father's parents. This has been a mixed bag of good and bad things.

Because my father's parents' home is an hour away from our previous home and our home church, we had to take our leave of the church that's been more than a home and more than a family to me for the last four years. 

They gave us a reception after church a week ago today, featuring a laying-on-of-hands, a tie-dyed cake, and a lot of tearful goodbyes. I never realized people I'd known for so short a time could mean so much to me. I never realized it would be like pulling out a part of myself to say goodbye. I never realized the impact they'd had on me, or I on them, or how important it is to say everything you need to say. I feel like there are some things I left unsaid. But Brandon hugged me goodbye and Stephen would've if I'd let him. Corinne cried and made me cry; and Joy stood next to me the whole entire time talking about almost nothing, pretending her husband wasn't itching to leave. And then I cried myself into a piercing headache on the way home and slept for most of the afternoon and that was a week ago today.

This morning I got up and dressed like a person and we all piled into the car and drove to a brick building five minutes down the road. It's a new church, a church plant, meeting in a very old, pews-and-vaulted-ceilings building. I know what that feels like.

As wrong as it might be, I'm tired. I didn't want to go. But I did.

 ~~~

Pull in the driveway. Conspicuous. Surprised face in the parking lot. I know the thought process. Are they lost? No, they're coming here. Wonder how many? Will they come back? Quick, smile. Shake hands.
Where should we park? Is this okay? Shuffle through the door. Smile. Shake hands. Forget their names as quickly as they forget mine.
             "I'll never remember them all. I might ask again."
Table of donuts. Juice and coffee. Awkward laugh at an awkward joke. Oh, look, the praise band. Skinny jeans. Boots and scarf. Jacket's too tight. Beard and button up, hipster Jesus. Fitted t-shirt, worship leader. Smile. Shake hands.
Find a pew. Did we steal someone else's? No, no dirty looks. Stand and sing. Don't know the tunes, easy enough to guess.  They're clapping. Can I clap? Do I have the right? Clap and sing a song I don't know. Keep on beat. Words. Worship words. I want to worship. My feet want to move. My hands want to rise. Can I worship? Do I have the right?
Familiar words touch old hurts. Not ready for this yet. Still sore. Sing. Worship. Don't think too hard. Don't cry. Not a good time to cry. 
             "And then we'll have a time of meet and greet."
Sinking feeling. Shake hands. Forget names. Smile. People are the same everywhere. 
Communion. Will they let us take? Should we take? Okay, pass the plate, don't spill. Wait? Don't wait? Don't wait.
Offering. Wish I could give something. Wish I weren't broke. Wish somebody wasn't broke.
           "And the conclusion of our series on David..."
My luck. Just my luck. Last of a series. This always happens to me. Psalm 23. I can do Psalm 23. Oh, it's the sheep sermon. And he has a lisp. They all have a lisp. Little church laugh at sermon jokes. Take notes. Smile.

Closing song. Shake hands. Smile.  
          "Hope we see you again."
                       Maybe.
And all the while, my eyes like magnets to the plaque in the corner.

El-Roi. The God Who Sees Me.

Hagar's name for God. My name for God.

My God.

My God is the same here as He has been everywhere else I've ever been.

My God is here.

My God sees me.

My God.

Don't think too hard. Don't cry. Not a good time to cry. 

~~~

Stuff and Things

Hi, all. Rather than having bunches of posts about various things I've watched, seen, read, or listened to, I'm gonna try and clear it all away in one post. Will try to keep it from being too terribly long. Here goes.
~~Harry Potter. Finally watched ALL the movies. Yes, I know, I'm severely behind the times. Not sure what I have to say about them, beyond that I enjoyed every single second of it. And that Snape might be the single most heart-wrenching, provocative character ever. Period. And express my general what-the-heck-ness about that whole Ron-and-Hermione thing. I can't be the only one, can I? Maybe this just shows my ignorance, and maybe I should shut up and read the books before I make judgments (and, really, I'm meaning to. You know, whenever I have a spare MONTH just lying around); but I would've rather seen Harry and Hermione.
~~Doctor Who. As in, is back. Season seven. *explodes*
For the sake of sparing you spoilers in case you haven't seen it, I won't go into particulars (except that, when it comes to Angels Take Manhattan, have a couple hundred boxes of tissues at the ready). Actually, this might have to be a post of its own. Merp. :/
~~Sherlock. In case you didn't know, season two has been added to the Netflix streaming library (so no more waiting around at the bottom of waiting lists for the dvds to be free). Very convenient for any American fans out there who have not already used proxies or piracy to watch it online. Anybody who was patient enough to wait ten months. Person I am describing, if you actually exist, I salute you.
~~Ophelia. Young adult novel by Lisa Klein. Can be found here (Amazon). It's a retelling of the story of Hamlet, from, predictably, Ophelia's point of view. I love some of the grey areas it clears up, for all that it took quite a few drastic liberties; and Ophelia is a much more sympathetic character in this version, which is nice. Plus, it's got an utterly gorgeous ending, visually and story-wise, that was absolutely worth reading the entire novel. Again, spoilers. Read the book.
~~Hugo. As in, finally watched. Picked it up at the library (Oh my. A library system that has dvds. O brave new world!). Gorgeous plot, gorgeous casting, gorgeous score, great cinematography. I'm utterly in love. And it's steampunk! Why wasn't I told that it was steampunk?
~~Jeeves and Wooster. The Granada, Hugh-Laurie-and-Stephen-Fry version. Also a library find. You know how sometimes, you read a book and you've got these pictures of the characters in your head, and then you watch the movie and they just get it completely wrong? Well, this isn't one of those times. Hugh Laurie IS Bertie Wooster (which is kind of crazy when you think of him as House. Could you get a more polar opposite?). And Hugh Laurie, then 31, reminds me decidedly of another tall, skinny, blue-eyed British 30-something. Wildly ironic, because he played this person's dad on another tv series, Fortysomething. Funny how things work out.
~~The Graveyard Book. Neil Gaiman. Yes, I know, again, behind the times. But I can't not mention it, because I absolutely loved it. You know how sometimes a book becomes a part of the way you think? This one's going to stick with me for a while. Favorite quotes:
“Bod said, 'I want to see life. I want to hold it in my hands. I want to leave a footprint on the sand of a desert island. I want to play football with people. I want,' he said, and then he paused and he thought. 'I want everything.”
And:
“He would go somewhere no one knew him, and he would sit in a library all day and read books and listen to people breathing.”
I feel like that sometimes. I don't want to deal with people, I just want to go e near people and feel like a person.
~~Once Upon a Time. The ABC series. Only mildly entertaining, yet strangely addictive. Curse you, mediocre television, for worming inside my head and not letting me go. Stuck watching season 1 on Netflix because we're not caught up enough to watch season 2 on live tv. *shakes fists*
~~Babel. As in, the new Mumford & Sons cd. I've read mixed reviews on it, seen it accused of being disingenuous, and I'll concede that they've found something that works and stuck to it with their second album, and that the album version of Below My Feet is nowhere near as good as the version that leaked a few months ago; but their music is every bit as good, and the emotions feel every bit as true, in Babel as they did in Sigh No More. The massive sales numbers alone tell you that this band's still got it.  But don't let me decide for you, check out my youtube playlist of the cd. For Those Below and Reminder being my favorite songs, with Babel and I Will Wait tied for second.
And, last but not least...
~~Elementary. First off, let me just say...

 

I am ashamed.

I just knew I should've waited until I saw it to say anything about it. I should've guessed I'd wind up eating humble pie. Johnny Lee Miller brings this sort of manic, puppy-dog, I-need-you-to-like-me energy to the title character, to the point that he's almost unrecognizable (and definitely nothing at all like Cumberbatch's version). I don't love the Watson (not because of gender or race, but because of some other things they changed). But I do like the show. It will, at the very least, tide me over until Sherlock comes back. But, un-canon as it (unarguably) is, I really...rather...like it. It's...cute. Incredibly cute. Come on, that last scene? Watson's a Mets fan? And the Elvis Costello, Watching-The-Detectives outro? Utterly adorable. And funny. Sherlock (the tv show), for all that it's worlds better, is almost never funny. As much as it pains me to say it, I was wrong. And I'm quite looking forward to episode two. :)

Aaaand, I think that's it. Forgive the mile-long post!

So...yeah.

For a couple of weeks now, I've been sitting here with this sort of dull, throbbing guilt. "I should blog. I should probably blog." I know it's been a while.
But see, my laptop finally kicked the bucket. Went to meet its maker. Shuffled off this mortal coil. But you get the picture. So it's either been steal an ipod from a brother, kill my back at our wildly inconvenient home computer, or try and battle my sister's laptop (which is a very little bit healthier than my own). Really, doing anything internet-related hasn't been easy these days.
Which isn't a good thing at all with NaNoWriMo coming up. I still haven't worked out how I'm going to manage, but I'll figure it out. And I've got my lovely story idea, have laid in a supply of fine black teas, have cleared my schedule, have several pages of notes and research, and have attached myself to a NaNo Newbie as their *ahem* "mentor." Which means lots and lots of guilt if I run screaming from the whole crazy idea, or don't keep my word count up, or don't quite make it to 50,000. Guilt can be a lovely motivator.
Found out this morning that I did not in fact win the Defy the Dark contest. I had, of course, seen that coming; but that doesn't mean I wasn't disappointed. In fact, I was. Especially considering that the person who placed third took the same subject I did (swamps in the American South), and did it better. But I gave it my best shot, and maybe I'll do better next time. Love that hypothetical "next time."
The good news is, I've got lots of time to spend on my writing right now, as I don't actually have that much to do. Or, really, anything. Breakfast dishes and sweeping the floor, and then for the better part my days are my own.
For the record, I hate it. Lovely as it is to have time to do what I will, the slow, creeping uselessness is starting to get to me. I've been reading a lot of books, mostly YA fiction, which is always a slightly depressing pastime. And writing, which is cool. But the good news is, it probably isn't going to last.
Now, I feel like I can say this here, because a very few people I know read this blog, and most of them already know, but it's far from public knowledge amongst my friends and relatives yet, and I'd like it to stay that way, at least until I know for sure.
I will probably be moving to Texas in January. Not my family, just me. The group I volunteered with when I went on my missions trip last summer has a semester internship program that includes room and board. And as much as I was wildly looking forward to attending community college and holding down a part-time job, somehow this missions thing feels right. So I'm pursuing it. I've got an application in right now (that includes a frighteningly honest testimony and sort of about-me thing), and I'm waiting to hear back from the gentleman in charge of the semester volunteers. And unless that response consists of, "No way, you are absolutely 100% wrong for our mission and would you please run in the opposite direction as quickly as possible;" this feels like it's going to happen.
Fingers crossed and whatnot, pretending not to be mind-numbingly nervous.
And, I think that's essentially it. Might follow this up with a "media I have consumed recently" style post.
Have an epic Friday!

Dark Knight Rises OR How to Get a Literature Nerd to Watch A Superhero Movie

I meant to write this quite a long time ago. As in, day we came home from the movie theater. Turns out, that didn't happen, but oh well.

I'm not usually a fan of superhero movies. Didn't like Hulk. The Spiderman saga got old after the first movie, avoided Iron Man just because Robert Downey Jr. Neither Captain America nor Thor had plots. Yet to see the Avengers, but, with the exception of Loki, I'm not all that interested. Any that I've missed just didn't even hit my radar.
It's been different with the Batman trilogy, a bit. There's a level of emotional complexity that caught my attention. And,  Heath Ledger's Joker was nothing short of inspired. But, even knowing that, when we went to the theater the other night, I would've rather seen Brave. Love a Pixar, me. But the siblings wanted to see Dark Knight Rises, and I'm usually up for anything.
So here's the thought process:
Sat about ten rows ahead of Mum and Dad and Riley with the two older siblings, the really excited ones, clapped for The Hobbit trailer, even though I'd seen it, much to their embarrassment. Looper looks really good, as does Red Dawn. Wow, is that Josh from Drake and Josh? He got older. The Expendables 2. Chuck Norris, Sylvester Stalone, and Arnold Schwarzenegger in the same movie? Yikes. Then, finally, the movie came on.
Christian Bale has a lisp. You can't hear it, but you can see it, especially because for half the movie, his mouth is the only thing you can see. And I'd half-expected to spend the entire movie stuck on that fact.
And then, Tom Hardy. Is that Tom Hardy? He can't be Tom Hardy. His voice sounds really funny. Oh, my. That is Tom Hardy. Is there such a thing as a better actor than Tom Hardy? I don't think they exist.
So there I am, mildly entertained. Ann Hatheway was such an obvious choice for Cat Woman, but still utterly perfect. Neat little love triangle, her, Batman, and the other chick.
And then it hits me. The French Revolution. This movie is the French Revolution. Lower-to-middle class taking back their town from the corrupt, decadent upper class. Gorgeous historical allusions, lots of socio-political implications for our own time, Vive la Revolution, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, and all that. It was a bold move for a movie to make right now, and a classy one for a movie to make ever. The history buff in me was enjoying herself.
The literature nerd in me had just read A Tale of Two Cities.
So in the end (avoiding specifics for the sake of spoilers), by that graveside, with that reading, and the, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known," I almost exploded. Actually, I started clapping, again to Anne and Andrew's embarrassment, but whatever.
And then the movie's over and, as usual, nobody besides my family claps. Seriously, it's like people just think they're entitled to this excellent piece of art that so many artists spent years of their lives perfecting. Whatever.
And then we get out of the theater and I'm grinning and babbling and "But, Daddy, that was Sydney Carton's last soliloquoy from Tale of Two Cities, that thing that they read there at the end, I can show you, I've got the book in the car," faster than either of my parents felt like keeping up with. I did actually have the book in the car, by the way. And I proceded to read the last page aloud. 
So, gorgeous movie, on acting and writing and casting and special effects and all of that; but that ending? THAT, Hollywood, is how you get a Literature Nerd to Love a Superhero Movie.
Also, for the record, I saw that No-THIS-is-the-real-bad-guy twist coming a good five minutes before anybody else. Just saying. ;)

Magic Mike

Here's me taking the conservative viewpoint for once...I'm frankly disgusted with this movie. With it's general existance, with the content, with everything about it. I should even apologize for using a picture in this post, but this was the least obscene one I could find.
And while we're being frank, Magic Mike qualifies as cinema about as much as Fifty Shades of Gray (another pet peeve of mine) qualifies as literature; namely, it doesn't. In both cases, a thin plot line and poor writing act as a framework for cheap erotica or bad porn. This. Is. Not. Art.
Now, I'm not advocating some sort of official boycott, not preaching censorship in the name of Christ. The world is going to create these things, I'm aware of that, and I accept that.
What I'm not willing to accept, however, is watching my Christian sisters flocking towards this piece of cinema for lack of a better word. I'm genuinely shocked, and saddened, and frustrated, and frankly disgusted. I just can't believe that they can in good conscience consume such an obscene piece of entertainment. When we're supposed to set an example and hold ourselves "in the world but not of it," and strive to be holy as He is holy, and set our thoughts on "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right," and et cetera. I just don't get it.
I'm not trying to point fingers, I know I have my hangups. I do! I could list them off to you, and I'm far from proud of them. But intentionally (and driving to a theater and purchasing a movie ticket seems pretty intentional to me) seeking out one's hangups is not how to deal with them. Keeping out of temptations way is how to deal with those hangups. And sitting in a darkened movie theater subjecting myself to two-and-a-half hours of male strippers does not smack of avoiding temptation of me.

Defy the Dark - Redux

Back and ready for the flailing. 
Since we last spoke, I've been back over the piece, stripped out twenty-eight more words to be within the 4,000 word limit, tagged, published, and entered the story, and refreshed my page on Figment about five-million times hoping for reviews.
Not that they matter, 'cause it's not a heart-hogging popularity contest this time (not to be rude, I promise). The powers that be have sworn to read every single entry, which is nice. And, while peer reviews are great, I'm not allowed to edit a single word of the prose. So no matter how glaring a grammar error somebody points out, I can't go fix it. Still, affirmation, you know.
The actual writing of the piece was a roller coaster. As great as the prompt was ("It's not about the darkness, it's about who we are when we defy it," or something like that), I had ABSOLUTELY no inspiration. I went through about thirty useless ideas I didn't care about before deciding to go back to the beginning, use a little bit of ALL the ideas, and just throw something together.
So then I spent three days on Nana's couch (still haven't covered the living-with-Nana thing, have I?) tapping it out. Four-thousand words later, here I sit. I wrote through mind-numbing frustration, a darling little cousin who I love very very much but who didn't exactly help the focusing idea ("Whatchya doin? Are you STILL writing? Don't you want to play a game?"), sharing a room with a brother who wants all lights, laptop included, off at ten-thirty, a blinding, teeth-hurting headache, a pulled muscle in my side, Mum ("You haven't done anything all day!"), my own self telling me it wasn't worth it and wasn't any good and that I had no chance. Twitter and Tumblr (I think I updated my Twitter about fifty times) were both a help and a hindrance: standing at the ready when it got to be too much and I needed a break, but also standing at the ready to distract me when I felt like procrastinating. I think I skipped upwards of six meals and lived mostly on tea (new, lovely, loose-leaf tea, bahaha). I even survived a college-themed melt-down, and kept on writing, can you believe it?
I wouldn't have survived it without White Noise Radio, Write or Die, Edit Minion, Owl City, or my frightfully long Youtube music playlist. The internets must love me.
And, now it's done, and I'm about to gnaw my arm off waiting for the results. I know I'm just one name in upwards of a thousand; the chances of my winning are, shall we say, negligible. But, fingers crossed anyway!
You wanna know what's funny? I'm all of a sudden wildly looking forward to NaNoWriMo.

Defy the Dark

Quickly and without details posting my entry for the defy the dark contest. Will give full griping, chattering, and generally carrying on. figment.com/books/420364-Old-Magic

White Noise

I've found my lifeline when it comes to writing in a house with eleven people. And it's right here, at http://www.whitenoise.fm/
Actually, I like the brown noise option better, but either way, it's lovely. None of the distraction of music (which, yes, can be a distraction if you can procrastinate like I can), but all of the noise-blocking goodness. Even great with my broken headphone jack (stuff still plays out the main speakers even with the headphones plugged in), 'cause it's background-ish and everybody just thinks it's my dinosaur laptop constantly running it's fan, which is a thing that is normal. I've cranked out almost two-thousand words today, to a story that's been giving me loads of trouble. (Which is great, because it's my Defy the Dark contest entry, which is due in like three days. Yes, not done yet. Yes, I'm pushing it. Shut up.)
Only downside is, when you take the headphones out, the real world feels terrible quiet and odd, like when you're used to sleeping with a fan and then, for some reason, you can't. But other than that, lovely.

Well, Procrastination...

Which is really no excuse for how lax I've been about blogging lately. But there's stuff going on and I'm largely hiding inside my own head and feeling under-motivated; so I haven't felt like doing anything so self-aware as blog. Even though blogging is what I usually do when I'm procrastinating. So now I'm procrastinating my procrastination. Except that now, I don't feel like it. I'm hiding from hiding inside my head. So either I've quit procrastinating, or I'm procrastinating procrastinating . . . procrastinating.

And on that note . . . goodnight.

Man, that was annoying.

Ladybugs and Sunflowers

(with my lovely little cousin)

Sad Songs

Check it! In honor of Owl City's new record, releasing tomorrow, here, for your listening pleasure, is Adam Young's Tumblr, on which three of the most recent posts are demos of brand-spanking-new (i.e., newer than the new record) Owl City songs. Also, Adam Young is writing sad songs. Whyyy is he writing sad songs?

Business

Firstly, blogging on Riley's iPod. Because of reasons. Moving reasons. Not fun.
Secondly, it has occurred to me that my two-hundredth blog post is coming up soon (!!!!!). And I wanted to pose the question: what should I do to celebrate? Mum is advocating a sort of a recap of my favorite past blog posts, and while I'm not opposed to the idea, I am still open to suggestions?
Aaand, lastly, I'm getting a pretty sustained two or three hits a week from somewhere in Russia. Are you a real person? Because Daddy is relatively convinced that all of my non-US hits are from some sort of web-trolling robot thingy (okay, he said it more intelligently. He might have used the word spider? Which I am even less comfortable with. I'm ssscared of spiders.) But if you happen to be a real person, could you be so kind as to comment, just once? Just a word or two, or, like, a punctuation mark or something. Actually, that could go for everyone. If you are not Reese or Annie or another regular commenter, could you in some way confirm to me that you actually exist? I would rather appreciate it. :)
Okay. I think that's everything. Now to check my work and make sure there are no awkward autocorrect mishaps.

Ohhh, I should blog...

Kinda don't feel like it, though. And having a difficult time coming up with anything to blog about.
I could talk about how we still don't know when or where we're actually moving, or where I'm going to be living and what I'm going to be doing abouuuut a week from tomorrow. But I don't feel like it.
I could talk about going to lunch and window-shopping at the frilly French antique shop with Grandma yesterday.
I could hazard an opinion on a sticky socio-political topic, like how this stupid Chick-fil-a thing is NOT a freedom of speech issue (believe me, if it was, I would be involved) and how no thank you, Mr. Huckabee, I will not be joining my fellow Christians in assembling en masse to "Eat Mor Chikin."
I could pick a piece of media I've consumed here lately and tell you exactly what I thought about it, but somehow I've not found the time to be reading right now; and the only things I've watched recently are Star Trek: Next Generation, the newest season of Falling Skies, and that silly Captain America movie with the lack of plot. Is it just me? None of these movies, not that one, not Thor, and, if witnesses are to be believed, not The Avengers. Why are these movies so popul-

 

Oh. Never mind. I see where that could have a certain . . . intellectual . . . interest. And I'm sure the writing is truly excellent and the characterization is marvelous and the plot has an ingenious simplicity to it that has been lost to the thousands of viewers with less discerning palates. Ahem.
I could lament my lack of inspiration on the front of the Defy the Dark harperteen contest, which has lovely prizes and opportunities but which I am having the darndest time figuring out what I'm going to write for.
Or how I've been feeling dizzy and queasy all morning. Or how my brothers had a friend over last night. Or the art projects I'm working on. Or the Olympic games, Gabby Douglas, Danny Boyle, and how disappointed I am NOT to be in London with Global Expeditions this month. Or the exciting Doctor Who trailer BBC1 released earlier this week and how quickly series 8 is coming up and how leery I am of Jenna Louise Coleman. Or the new season of Falling Skies. Or going to the Friends of the Public Library for (probably, hopefully) the last time yesterday and buying a copy of Northanger Abbey (finally!). Or the Figment friend who self-published his Sherlock Holmes pastiche on Amazon and then gave it away free to everyone who'd supported him on Figment. Or how I've quit biting my nails and they're getting long enough for me to accidentally scratch myself in the face while sleeping. Or how I'm getting kind of tired of Charlie the Unicorn and Minecraft.

However. I'm tired of being on the computer and not in the mood for blogging and, despite the headache and the dizziness (probably dehydration, I should do something about that), I'm sure I could find something more important to do. I might pick a topic or two mentioned here to expand on later, I might not. And, umm, I think that's it. Enjoy your Saturday!

A Tale of Two Cities ~ a project

With my newfound fixation for book-binding, I guess I've gotten a bit over-zealous. I figured out the coptic stitch, with the help of this lovely tutorial, I made myself a travel journal; I guess I figured I could do just about anything. So, I rebound my copy of A Tale of Two Cities.

It took me forever (I'd say about forty hours of work total, seriously), but I did it. I didn't want to have to take the time to copy all my notes into a new copy, see? And I've got a BUNCH of notes; from the first time I read the book, for school, throughout the whole thing; and about a third of the way through from my second, closer inspection of it. And it was my dad's before me, and it was utterly falling apart, so I decided to rebind it.
After I'd ripped out the covers completely and peeled off the canvas that was holding the glue-bound pages to the flyleaf, I started by taking a small cup of vinegar, some Q-tips, a pot of boiling water, a knife, some nail polish remover, and a very bright light to work by and dissolving the glue from the spine. Silly me, I figured the pages would've been in signatures (like a composition notebook, the paper folded over and connected in the back) to begin with. But no. As the glue dissolved, the pages fell out into single sheets. Roadblock the first.
So I found some red thread and I arranged the papers into sheets of sixteen and I hand-stitched each page to it's opposite (using a healthy dab of glue to hold the final knot down). Then I used a screw driver to bore some holes in the original covers, an ice-pick to pop the holes in the papers, used the lovely stitch from the tutorial to bind it all together, and viola! It is reborn.

Now I'm just really, really glad it's over.