On Authoring

I think the authoring disease has taken quite firm root in me. How do I know that?

Yesterday, I was studying Biology. I came across the name for the large intestine; the colon. Terrible me, I went; ‘So if the large intestine is the colon, the small intestine is the semicolon, right?’

I think I need help.

Quotes and Nonsense

“We’re all mad, here.”

“I’m not a psychopath, I’m a high-functioning sociopath, do your research.”

“We live and breathe words.”

“They get away with murder. I can never get away with anything.”

“But the caged bird sings with a fearful trill, of things unknown but longed for still.”

“She did not complain.”

“Did you believe in your friend? Did you respect him?”

“Everyone carries around their worst enemies inside them, locked up inside their heads.”

“In the beginning was the Word.”

“To die would be an awfully big adventure.”

“Who ever wanted to live forever, anyways?”

“I might even get a date.”

So, what are these from? I snuck in a couple of quotes from my own work. Which are they?

Have your Cake

“You can’t have your cake, and eat it too.”–Unknown.

Have you ever wondered what life is like for the people who don’t even have cake? For the people who don’t even have bread? For the people who, day to day, struggle to survive?

Do you tend to throw away the food you don’t want or eat all the food you like, without thinking about other people?

No, this isn’t going to be a post about practical morality and theoretical morality, though I should probably write about that sometime. This is a post about blessings; having your cake. And eating it too.

The things you have are often the things you overlook. We in America overlook the fact that we already have a perfectly good tablet and want the newest version. We eat fast food and then complain about the fact it isn’t as good as a gourmet restaurant. We ask for the best and highest paying jobs, without thinking about the fact that in Columbia, for example, they make 200 or 300 dollars a month. I am not saying that it’s bad to want good things.

I’m saying that it’s important to remember why we want them. Why do we want them? Success. Fame. Fortune. The best houses. The best jobs. Well, we want them because we want good things. We want pleasure and happiness and joy. Why?

Because we want something even more.

We want the best thing we can find.

We want the Pearl of Great Price, so great and beautiful that the man will sell all he owns to obtain it.

So we reach for it, and since we cannot reach it (God) alone, we try for lesser things to try and replicate the peace and joy which is found within God. There’s just one thing we don’t ask.

Is that good enough? Are we willing to settle for ‘good enough’?

No.

So, what would you give for this Pearl? A lot of people starve for lesser things, to pursue goals which pass. People will save money for a piece of art which may be lost in a fire in less than a year.

Well, you already know how to get the pearl, but what’s my point? That this Pearl of Great Price does not have a mortal price. It does not sell to the highest bidder. It sells to the widow who gives away her last coin.

It sells to the person who innocently trusts.

It sells to the person who loves everyone.

It sells to the person who is grateful.

How can we be grateful? How can we have our cake, and eat it?

Well. Those people that don’t have cake, remember them?

Do you remember that piece of cake you shared with a sibling?

Do you remember how you would share candy with a friend on the bus?

Do you remember that when you shared and gave away, what you had, though it was less, had more value?

Do you remember how when you worked very hard for a goal, suddenly the thing you obtained was worth so much more? How you ran so hard your lungs almost exploded, but you got first and it was all worth it?

Think about it this way, then. Somehow, you ended up with the people you love. You didn’t do anything to earn it, but you earn it now. You earn it by treating them well and putting up with them.

Somehow, your parents paid you through school. You earned it by the work you put into it. If you didn’t earn it well enough, make up for it now. Learn what you can.

If you have a job, then you earn money by working.

How do you earn the job?

By the hard work which preceded.

How does this make you happy?

Remember that candy?

Remember?

When you give something away, you have to sacrifice that something, but afterwards you feel how worthwhile it was, and with or without thanks, you know you did something good.

Your sister or brother or mother or father may be horribly difficult, but understand that you have put much into the relationship, and that somewhere else you will be rewarded.

When you work for goals and look at what you’ve already got and look at where you came from, you realize that leisure isn’t what makes you happy. It’s earned leisure. It’s having worked hard and knowing it.

We are raised with the idea that work is something to be avoided at all costs. What if it isn’t? What if we are going on the wrong idea?

What if our work, our money, our rejoicing at leisure, is all having our cake without eating it? How do you make work pleasurable? You can sing. You can play music. You can think about what you will have learned or gotten done once you have finished. You can learn, by leaps and bounds, to hunger for knowledge like you did when you asked interminable questions when you were seven. You can learn that hard work and scarred hands are worth every instant.

You can learn that you don’t need glory and fame for the best life ever. All you need is work, (plenty of that to go around!) gratitude and love. Work is a blessing, not a curse. Work is intended to be enjoyed.

Enjoy your work.

Rather than thinking about all that you didn’t accomplish today, think about all you did and sleep happy thinking that you can do even more tomorrow, but for now you just need sleep more than worries.

Give away money when somebody needs it, and don’t be jealous of your time.

Generosity and expecting nothing in return gives a great deal of joy to you.

We have our cake. We have tons of cake. We just have to eat it.

We just don’t see the cake as our favorite kind of cake. So, you have vanilla and you asked for chocolate. So what? Vanilla tastes great for a change.

And maybe, when you eat it, you find the cake is marbled.

Throw your whole self into everything you do. That room that takes 3 hours to clean? You can do it in 1. You know you can.

We have tons and tons and tons of cake, but we forget that we have it.

We let it go rotten.

So don’t let it go rotten. Go for a long walk in your hour of time when you don’t have to do anything. Go and spend some time with friends rather than watching TV.

It’s people that count, not things.

Get to know your parents, your sisters, your friends. Enjoy your life. Enjoy everything.

Enjoy your hour of leisure, but earn it. Value is directly proportional to work.

Life

So, I got my first driving lesson (terrifying, absolutely terrifying) on Sunday. I have a ton of school I’ve been working, including the last part of Algebra 2, Biology, English and who knows how many other things. I have been dancing six hours a week (when I was working towards a performance, it was eight hours a week) and wanting to be outdoors more so bad that I have enjoyed the warm weather even though it is very mistimed and we sort of need snow more.

I’m planning on posting a chapter of that post-apocalyptic fantasy soon, after one of my friends has helped me edit it. Thank you all for your patience.

God bless!

New Story Snippet

A snippet for you from one of the stories I have been working on. This is from one of the newer plot bunnies. This is like a blend of fantasy and post-apocalyptic fantasy.


They ran down the cavern halls, Syris’ wet hair flying out behind her, her bare feet aching unbearably. Her teeth were chattering uncontrollably now. The man did not offer her aid or slow once, keeping her running as quickly as she could with her short legs.

A kind of angry pain she had never truly felt before at this injustice rose up in her, and she stifled the desire to cry. Tears were allowable only when no one could see her. She knew it, too. She did not bother to ask the man’s name—he would tell her if it mattered—besides, she feared that if she started speaking, she would burst into tears.

Syris finally collapsed when they got out onto the sunlit path, the exhaustion and the weight of the events of the day making her careless. The man made an irritated noise, but lifted Syris. He was not a muscular man, Syris noted; his belly was soft and his muscles sagged, unlike the taught skin and corded muscles of all of her instructors, but he carried her without trouble. This spoke, she knew, more to her lightness than to his strength.

His breath came in ragged gasps. She was not gasping, she was not really tired. She was simply overwhelmed. She slipped down from his arms, ignoring his protests, and walked alongside the man. They arrived at a pair of carriages at last, and the man shoved her into the smaller one and slammed the door behind her. The couch was outfitted in velvet, one of the seats long and narrow and the other longer than it was wide—a bed, probably. There were clothes, and a card instructing her to wear them in the morning.


Like it? Hate it? Want me to start posting the whole thing on my blog? I could do that, I suppose.

Opus

Poetry. More poetry.


Opus

There throughout the written word

Triumph of flowing verse

No fragile greatness doth descend

Through rhythms, and crescendos.

Pounding darkness;

                                Frigid light;

Of fragmentary rapture;

                                Of cold and sweet delight.

The notes hold forth a darkness that the words dare not bestow;

                                A musician is more cunning

Than an author, well I know.

Through dear and icy fantasy,

                                Through the movement of the feet,

Transported to another world

                                A dreamer I may meet.

The words rain down around me

                The notes sound like the sea

A mist rises from the yellowed page

                A memory from a far-flung age

A long and lone experience

                                At last the page falls closed;

A long applause

                                A curtain rose

Upon their brief repose.

Forgotten Magnificent Symphony,

                Old dear friend, there you lie

Between the faded covers

                Sung sweet by she and I.

But if you are forgotten,

                Still, I feel I know you well

For poets tread the middle ground

                Where the great Immortals dwell.


Liked it, Hated it?
Feel free to tell me in the comments!
God bless!

LATE Club, February

The Prompt was to write about chocolate. (Thank you, Against the Shadows. Rosalie’s the genius who manages the Life After Twenty Enclave, which I am participating in even though I’m still a teen.) So I came up with an entirely hand-wavy nonsensical story whose science is probably inherently flawed, but this story was supposed to be funny. So. Excuse the nonscience.


Chocolate, Chemistry, and Portals (and what they have to do with each other.)

            Professor Elaine Morningstar loved chocolate almost as much as she loved chemistry. That was why their project was sure to get an A.

            Teresa, Von and Miri had stayed up all night working out a way to make chocolate explode. They had come up with a variety of possibilities, including turning chocolate into a hydrogen bomb, but they thought it was a little extreme, even for a final project. Besides, it would turn the lab into a smoking crater, and it would make the college mad enough to expel them. (Even though it was a great idea, sure Von.) (Von was the youngest of them. He was a freshman, and had worn dress shirts to class for the first month together before he’d fallen in with Teresa and Miri.)

            Teresa had suggested using the chemical compound H2SO4. Von had suggested just doing that second grade project of vinegar and baking soda with cocoa mixed in, (it was mostly a joke, and they’d never get away with that.) Miri had suggested making a huge vat of chocolate, water, and letting it cool and then pouring in boiling salt, because hell yeah, it would explode then! (Miri was a bit of a weird Goth chick who also had nerdy tendencies, and a tendency to swear whenever she got really excited, so basically every chemistry class, but the Professor cussed more than Miri in the first place, so whatever.)

            Teresa said that it was a great idea (Teresa and Miri were both wise idiots. [That’s what Sophomore means, don’t get so excited Miri. I need to wash my ears out with soap now.] Teresa was tall and skinny and normally kept the peace between the others.)

            In the end, there was no scientific principle for exactly what they wanted, so by a whole day of experimentation they came up with what they called the Walker-Bon-Dawn principle, because they couldn’t think of any better way to combine their last names. (Miri had suggested calling it the Tiri-Von principle, and Teresa had disagreed over top of Miri’s cussing because she thought it would sound like the Principle of Ship Names in Fanfiction, which was definitely not what they were collaborating on, though Teresa suspected Von of working on Fanfiction in private.)

            They all drank so much coffee that Teresa swore she wouldn’t touch another cup (which promise would be kept only until the next final,) and Miri got so excited she smudged her reapplied eyeliner on Von’s shirt. (It might have actually been done on purpose, so he wouldn’t wear a dress shirt and would just wear something decent and comfortable instead.)

            Teresa wore the wrong pair of earrings which clashed with her outfit; that was how tired she was. Von put on Teresa’s shirt instead of his own, which was so hilarious neither of the girls mentioned it.

            In the end, they did get an A. However, they did not get it for their hard work on the Walker-Bon-Dawn principle. (Which was a good thing, because they’d had to shorten Von’s last name to Bon because Bonbon is extremely unprofessional sounding, particularly in the context of said full name being Walter Von Bonbon.)

            In fact, all the research for the Walker-Bon-Dawn principle was destroyed, and they all never touched that particular chemical research again. For, in fact, one of the other groups of students had had the same brilliant idea that their study group had, with one difference in one slight detail. They had decided to try portaling chocolate into space rather than making it explode. (Teresa later pointed out to them that had more to do with engineering or physics than chemistry, but those particular three students didn’t care. They were freshmen, some of those undeclared major people. How they got into advanced Chemistry III is still being looked into.)

            They indeed managed to open a portal using some of the research of some older engineering students which had been published in the school paper because it was so ridiculously good.

            The classroom had been evacuated, with Teresa, Miri and Von having the presence of mind to remember a resultant more theoretical article about how to close such a portal. Unfortunately, all their chocolate and paper and chemicals and nonsense was lost in the process, but the school still gave them an A+ for their dedication to science and their work in making the theoretical practical. It was earned, because Teresa’s poor black hair was hit by chlorine in the chaos and was bleached blond and Teresa had to chop it all off.

            Von’s, or more properly speaking, Teresa’s shirt was destroyed, Miri’s mascara went down in the chaos and the entire classroom looked like the Art majors had been trapped in there all weekend and had decided to protest by redecorating, but nobody cared about that because the college was still alive and they had three very smart students (whose research on that particular subject was lost forever mostly because;)

            The next term they took Interdimensional Physics and Engineering II, collaborating on an entirely impracticable but brilliant paper that was indecipherable by younger generations (on purpose), and at one point proving the theory of relativity in a five page mathematical description even the Professor had trouble discerning because it was so technical (or possibly because Von’s handwriting was really that bad,) and afterwards demonstrating it with some particularly bad coffee.

            But that’s another story entirely.


It’s nonsense, but I liked writing it.

The End.

God Bless!