It's been a month since my last post. For those who bother with this anymore, I thought I would update you. Blogging hasn't been the only thing that I've been putting off. The indescernable scribbles in my sketchbook are just attempts for me to start working on requests from people. I've got a lot to do. I've also been practising piano and violin less, which is definately not the best way to prepare for playing with CSYO.

I went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 last Saturday night with my friends. I'm usually not one to cry for movies, but (SPOILER ALERT. AVERT YOUR EYES NOW, YOU POTTER VIRGINS.) when Severus died, the tears just spilled. Severus Snape has always been in my top favourites for favourite characters. When I first read the first few books, I disliked him just as any reader exploring Jo's wizarding world alongside Harry did, and I was unsure for the longest time how Dumbledore could trust such a bitter man. However, I did admire his dry humour and well formulated insults. But most of all, I admire Snape's true love for Lily. Even after she severed her ties with him, he continued to love her (not without some bitterness, but love nonetheless). I couldn't imagine to myself how terrible it must have been to be in his position, to have her go and fall in love with his worst enemy.

Another character I really love is Narcissa Malfoy. She always makes her family her first priority. She loves them so much, and would do absolutely anything to try and keep them safe and sound, even going to the lengths as disobey the Dark Lord himself. Also, I could only imagine the kind of sacrifices she’s made for her family, like giving Draco her wand, the last remaining wand of the family. Another thing I really admire about her is how much she's been through all her life. Can you even begin to imagine all of the pain she’s gone? Scared because her husband was sent on dangerous missions for Voldemort, fearful for her son for becoming the same way, lonely when Lucius was sent to Azkaban, worried that she couldn’t parent Draco on her own, annoyed when people judged her family for Lucius’ failure, and frightened of crossing the Dark Lord because they were on such thin ice with him. Also, Narcissa Malfoy betrayed Voldemort, she betrayed the most feared wizard in the whole world. Can you imagine the courage that must’ve taken? This woman is so brave.

Alrighty, that's enough for now. I'm tired, and I've still got a lot to do tonight.

One last thing: Tom Felton is GOOD LOOKING, man!

kthnxbai!

I feel that it is necessary to blog, because honestly, I haven't been blogging and the guilt of not doing so has put its dark, slimy claw on my shoulder and said, "Sara, it's been a while." I have plenty of lame excuses for my hiatus, but the largest factor of it all is that I've been lazy and low on inspiration. And considering that I still am lazy and low on inspiration, I really have nothing to blog about in particular. Excuse me while I ramble about what's currently on my mind.

About a week ago, one of my best friends planned a cookout for yesterday. The cookout creeped closer as the week went on, and soon, Saturday was here. The forecast for Saturday? Scattered showers all day and into the night. Thus, the cookout was canceled and rescheduled for the following week. One of the invitees decided that instead of having a cookout, we could still get together for a water-balloon war down by Homestead Park, which would have no effect if it did indeed rain. I asked my parents for permission to attend, but my dad was convinced that the water that would drench our clothing would attract lightning. So, he suggested we all go to see a movie instead where it was nice, dry, and lightning free indoors. I decided that this would be a good idea so I brought this idea to my friends. By now, only about half of original invitees would be able to make it. So, around 7, the five of us all met up at the theatre to see the sequel of Hoodwink'd.

Woo. That's my story for this week. *shrug* Mediocre, I know. But, whatever.

[Tornadoes and Blinkers]

As I not-so-studiously prepare for an upcoming science test, bullets of water suddenly begin to torpedo at my window. I instinctively look to the pane of glass. Within a few seconds, my eyes are assaulted by a blinding flash of lightning, then my ears by a thunderous boom. In my mind, I'm thinking, "Aw, yeah, baby. STORM TIME!" That is, until I realized what could come.

Monday night at 8:10pm, an EF-1 tornado touched down in Moorefield Township, near Springfield, Ohio in Clark County. This tornado was reported to pack up to 90 mph winds. No injuries were reported, the NWS said. However, concrete blocks were lifted onto a roof, power lines were downed and at least one home was damaged. This was not a huge tornado, but it reminded me of what could have happened.

On Sunday, May 21st, the single deadliest tornado on record ripped through Joplin, Missouri. National Weather Service Director Jack Hayes said the tornado in Joplin was given a preliminary label as an EF4. This storm had winds of 190 to 198 mph. At times, it was three-quarters of a mile wide.

Sunday's killer tornado ripped through the heart of Joplin, a blue-collar southwest Missouri city of 50,000 people, slamming straight into St. John's Regional Medical Center. It destroyed possibly thousands of homes, and leveled hundreds of businessed, even massive ones like Home Depot or Walmart.

All of these tornadoes twisting up and down Tornado Alley had me thinking about when I was younger. I had not yet lived in Ohio yet, I was at the ripe, old age of about four and I had lived in the New Jersey/Philadelphia area. At this age, I had not yet learned much English.

Tornado sirens were going off, Mom and Dad had the news on to watch what was happening, and I was just a curious kid looking out the window at the medium drizzle. A news anchor reports the possibility of a tornado touching down. I look to my parents, "What's 'tomato?' " I ask. They only chuckle and say, "TORNADO?" Later that night, they explained to me of these rapidly whirling, funnel-shaped clouds of doom. As I was tucked into bed, I could help but try to figure out the difference between "tomatoes" and "tornadoes." Oh, god. I was a cute kid.

Have you ever mistaken some words for others, or had your kids mistake words for others? Like, water and quarter. Or maybe, as a kid, when you didn't understand something, you just made up something that made sense in your mind just so you had some kind of explanation.

I remember doing that around the age of five or six. Always sitting in the back seat ( Sorry, Rebecca, you can take the front. I ain't drivin' at five. ), I was always very confused whenever the ticking of the blinker went on. It always happened right before or as the car turned left or right, so, it must have something to do with that. I thought for a very long time that the ticking was the sound of the car keys hitting the interior of the car as we turned. Huh, and to think that at age five, I was thinking about Newton's first Law of Motion!

Have you ever made up explanations for things you didn't understand as a kid?

[Being Asian: Answering the Door]

I apologize for not posting in so long. With the end of school nearing bearing large projects and rather impressive final exams, and a computer virus that prevents me from using Microsoft Word, I've found myself with very little time; limited resources; and ultimately, a lack of inspiration to do any decent writing. Today, I am working on writing a bunch of notecards to cover the topics I've looked over all year for my history class. I'm about mid-way through the mess, so I decided to take a break and write. I got a nugget of inspiration just a few moments ago when my doorbell rang.

------

There are many advantages to being an Asian, with an Asian-looking face, an Asian-looking stature, and an Asian-sounding accent--maybe even knowing an Asian dialect. I've found that this comes in handy whenever I find particularly pesky strangers at my door. This is how things are usually handled.

The doorbell rings; I come face-to-face with a young teen trying to sell me magazines to raise money for their school fund-raiser. Today, I decide that I will pull out my Cantonese tongue.

"I don't have a phone to buy a refridgerator," I say in a dialect foreign to the young man before me. I was short on quick improvisation, and this was all I could utter. I accompany this remark with a confused face and a slight shrug of the shoulders. The man apologizes profusely, and turns to leave.

Maybe I come across a young man asking me to let Jesus into me heart. Well, I don't want to stand in the doorway for half-an-hour to get lectured by this guy about something I honestly don't really give two flying neon turds about.What do I do?

"Oh, like-ah the Buddha! Yes, rearry good man!" then I continue in a heavy accent rambling a bit about Buddhism, then eventually talking completely in Cantonese gibberish ( some more of that refridgerator stuff ). Soon, the man, himself gets confused, pardons himself, and I slam the door in his face.

Disclaimer: In no way am I trying to offend Asians, or the guys going door-to-door to raise money for schools, or the guys trying to spread religion. I am just trying to make a somewhat humourous post about how I use my ethnicity to my advantage all in good fun.

[The Orchard]

There is a boundary line between trees;
It splits the apples and the cherries.
The emerald fruits just sneer and snide
At rose-red cherries in emerald pride.
But there did live an apple who knew it was wrong;
He knew the cherries were just as strong
As any apple could ever be,
But he was shunned for his sympathy
To the cherries who lived in absolute fear
Of the apples' hate that attacked like a shear.

[Beast]

There is a beast within me
It itches to escape
I keep restraints as best I can
My lips covered with tape
But if I make just one mistake
If just one wrong chip falls
I'm doomed to learn my inner beast
Has power over my all
It waits so very patiently
Until I finally crack
And when I do, it makes a move
It charges to attack
So suddenly, I'm this monstrous thing
Without feelings or a heart
I patrol the streets as if I'm God
And tear everything apart

[Late]

If anyone cared to notice, I didn't post last week. Sorry about that; busy things were a-bump around the house and I got side-tracked.

It's hard to believe that I'm thirteen years young as of today. It's strange, because I don't find myself to be very alike most other teens: facing the same problem of how to rebel and conform at the same time by defying their parents and copying one another. Instead, I see myself rebelling only from becoming a cookie-cutter teen and individualizing myself from the supposed norm.

My older friends, teachers, and elder family members often mistake me for someone much older than I am, and I too question whether my personality matches my chronological age. I tend to feel more mature than most my age, years ahead of myself. Most of the people I meet online across YouTube or here on my blog are surprised to learn that I am but thirteen years of age.

I suppose that I am a bit more well read in terms of properly using the English language as it was meant to be ( please refer yourself here ) and that my face is shaped in such a way, I could be mistaken for a 15-16-year-old with a little baby-fat left on her face. However, it always puzzles me that other teens aren't like me. It's sort of a silly thing to assume, seeing that there are probably several others in my situation, but I don't know why others are so left behind.

As an end result of my apparent advance in maturity levels over the general populace of middle schools, I am frequently alone, or with a very small circle of friends with whom I share an intellectual sync. Even within the friends, though, there is an obvious distinction between how aged we are mentally and emotionally. There are very few people that I can talk to freely about life and society, because quite simply, anyone else would get bored or confused, and dismiss the topic. I find that this tends to result in crazed, ranting blog posts, rash poems, and estranged short stories.

Granted, however, my biological age does make an appearance in my maturity from time to time. This is what causes my outbursts of energy post-consumption of sugary foods and obsession with stuffed animals, all things cute, and cows.

I guess I'm quite the character, what with my darker, more mature side, and random, crazed kid side. But hey, I'm a very likable person--or so I've been told.

[Stereotypical Teenage Girls]

There's something I don't quite understand:  Stereotypical Teenage Girls.

This is going to be a bit of babbling rant of raw thoughts from the top of my head, so bear with me, or just stop reading here.

As a teenage girl myself, there are a few things about teenage girls that honestly just baffle me.

One, is how they constantly look down upon themselves, only to get sympathy from their peers. This is usually how it plays out:

"Ugh, I'm so fat!"

"No, you're not! You're amazingly skinny and beautiful!"

"Yeah, you're absolutely gorgeous!"

I find that infinitely ridiculous. And in all reality, the girl is neither stunning, nor ugly. Is this some strategic mind game for girls to attract attention to themselves ( Are teenage girls capable of making elaborate plans as such? )? Or are the majority of us now being raised as people-pleasers?

Another thing is how some girls tend to write in such a language that doesn't quite qualify as English, nor can it can be considered text-talk, 'cause it honestly takes so many more characters and so much more time to type in this crude language of exaggerated written-as-heard than in the normal English language.

I`mma Reeeeeal Chiiick Sooo Thaattt Meeeans I`m Drammma Freeeeee .!
I Loooove 2 Haave Fun , Haang Ouut Wiiith Friiiendssss.
Beeeen Thruuuu Soome Shit , Sooo If Your'e Fake , Pleeeeeeease Stay The HELL Awaayyyy From Meeee :D

<doubletake>

I'm sure that any sane literate ( as well as spell-check ) looked at that can instantly cringed.

So, this poses a a few questions from me:

• Why did you capitalize every word?
• Did you get honey stuck under your keyboard?
• Who taught you to put spaces BEFORE the punctuation marks as well as after?
• Since when did sentences become so important, they need TWO ending punctuation marks?
• Do you actually talk like that ( if you did, you need to be removed from the gene pool )?
• Where the hell did you find the time to type like that, what with the extra letters, extreme capitalization, and unnecessary spacing?

A third thing that confuses me is how some girls ( this is directed mainly at under-age teens ) find it logical to wear thongs to avoid panty-lines.

Oh, but no, it gets worse. In a locker-room, I once heard a girl say to a group of her friends, "Don't look at me! I wore a thong so that I wouldn't have a panty-line, and I don't want you guys to see me in a thong!" Would it have been easier just to have the frickin' panty-line? Is it THAT embarrassing? Panty-line = Hi, I'm wearing undies that cover my ass. Or is that suddenly a bad thing?

This is all I can think of off the top of my head for now, but nonetheless, I'm very much proud to be an individual, and not a cookie-cutter replica of these-facepalm-worthy girls. Or maybe, I'm the odd one out, and doing all these things are logical and accepted in society. What do you think?

[Drawings]

I finally found time to upload these. Enjoy.

This is some sort of fox/cat/dog/skunk/bunny. I'm not quite sure what I had in mind.



A lil' girl in some more traditional Asian clothing.

A snoozin' lil' baby wolf pup.



[Thirty]

This was an assignment in my English class to write a science-fiction short story to wrap up our science-fiction unit for the quarter. This is what I came up with. At first, I had a real trouble coming up with a decent plot, considering how many different directions I had to choose between. I was in the school's computer lab when the air conditioning came on and I felt real cold, and then the rest just bloomed.

I didn't finish this until four nights ago, and I did so through gritted teeth. I've been in a real downer mood lately, and I'm still recovering. I've been having trouble doing anything creative, and I think that finishing this will be good a good outlet for me to let other ideas flow. Enjoy.

------

            She pressed her dead fingers to her metallic blue lips. “Too cold,” she thought aloud, “It’s too cold.”

            Tean nodded at her, and touched his own shimmering, sapphire lips. “Do you remember the warmth?”

            She shook her head. “My mother told me that it was wonderful, though. She only had some as a child. It’s like being held all around by someone you love, she said.”

            “I want some,” Tean whispered; his face was thoughtful, but gloomy and yearning.

            The pair shivered in the dark together, looking skyward as if the Sun would spontaneously reappear as it used to each and every morning, or their families told them. They held each other in hopes that somehow, some warmth would seep into their bones to chase away the chill that held deeply under their skin.

            She shifted her head off Tean’s shoulder and they both looked to her watch. It was nearly five, so she bid him goodbye and hugged him gently.

            “Goodbye, Shri,” Tean called as he watched her walk from the bench. A tear escaped his eyes. He craved to learn warmth, and love.

            Shri wiped her boots off on the front mat and stepped into her house quietly. She ate the evening food rations sent from Aion in silence, chewing on the tough material. It had a bland taste, but it filled her, and kept her alive. Shri slinked off to bed soon after showering and brushing her teeth with icy bottled water. She envied those who had the money years ago to be transported to Aion, where warmth was common, and life thrived.

            Expressionless, she pulled the sheets up to her chin, cramming her eyes shut in hopes of finding sleep in the bleak, frozen dark.

            Tean lay in bed, feeling clean of the nasty mask of cosmetics that was required by law to wear during daytime. This was how it was if you wanted to stay on Earth, if you refused to leave to Aion. We were governed by strict, ridiculous rules. “For your safety,” they told us. The chalky make-up was supposed to keep our skin warm when we weren’t under the weak protection of our bedspreads.

            Both he and Shri’s family found it beneficial to stay on Earth, as if the Sun would show its face, as if green might sprout from the ground once again. Neither family had money for the expensive transport to Aion, either. That was before Aion had flourished. By the time Tean was born, the Aionians didn’t even want Earth dwellers to join them. They were considered sullied and brainless for thinking the Sun would return to them, so they were stuck here on this forever wintry wasteland called Earth, left to eventually die off.

            Soon after Tean’s parents were terminated at 30, Shri’s were as well. Ever since, she had been under a fog of depression. Tean found it up to him to stay with her, to be her guardian until he too, turned 30. Tean was only three years older than her, so he kept to the rules so he could live the last few months of his life helping her in any way he could. Tean knew what he had to do—and soon—because if he delayed the task any longer, it’d be too late.

            The following morning brought thick, glistening cerulean lipstick to Shri’s face. She signed forlornly at her morning routine as she dragged herself down to the kitchen. Slowly pulling the leathery, freeze-dried plants apart in her teeth, she counted the days.

            67 were all Shri had left with Tean. Moisture rolled from the corners of her eyes as she swallowed. Inside, Shri knew that she would have to somehow make those 67 days count.

            Slipping on her worn boots, she left for Tean’s house as she would have any other morning.

            Tean shut the front door behind him as he welcomed Shri in to sit where she’d like. She decided on a beat up two-seater that belonged to his father in the living room. “Did you eat before you came?” Tean asked her, offering her some freeze-dried snacks. She nodded yes and Tean set the small plate of preservative-filled food on a small table by the window.

            “Want to go to the playground today? Like we used to when we were kids?” she asked with a smile, bringing distant memories to Tean’s mind. He felt his own lips curl into a crooked, blue crescent of a smirk in agreement. They gathered the snacks into a small plastic bag which Tean shoved into his pocket and headed out the door.

            The two walked side by side, Tean holding onto her fragile hands. The two were a funny pair to watch stroll down the street, Tean being a whopping half foot taller than tiny Shri. She looked up to him when Tean spoke.

            “Are you cold?” he asked Shri, gripping her small hands tighter.

            It was a stupid question, of course. Shri was always cold, even with the temperature-regulation dome set up twenty years ago. “Freezing,” she answered anyway, pulling herself closer to him, breathing in the faint scent that belonged only to Tean.

            They finally arrived at the abandoned playground that used to be for schoolchildren. He led Shri toward a swing set where they each took a swing and sat on a slab of rubber, each held suspended in the air by a pair of chains. Tean could comfortably place his foot on the ground, while Shri could barely touch her toes to the earth. They gently pushed themselves back and forth, lifting themselves no more than a few inches off the soil.

            He began pumping his legs stronger and faster now, pulling himself many feet above the ground. Shri soon joined him though he was feet ahead of her. In a single fluid motion, Tean released the swing and jumped off as he swung forward, throwing him several yards as he landed suavely. By then, Shri had found her peak height and was ready to fly off the swing like Tean. After gathering himself, he got up and opened his arms.

            “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

            Shri flung herself toward him as he positioned himself to be under her as she landed. She crashed into him, toppling him onto his back. They both laughed uncontrollably.

            After the laughter settled down, they just lay there momentarily, staring into each others’ grey eyes. Tean knew that the moment was now.

            He reached for the back of her neck and pulled her close, closing his eyes. Shri did not object as their blue lips met. Her eyes fluttered closed too as their lips intertwined into a fusion of indigos and baby blues. She pulled her face from his, lifting herself up, but Tean was not satisfied. He rolled around so that he was atop her body now, careful not to crush her delicate frame. Tean set his lips on hers again, and she welcomed them with ease.

            “I have always loved you,” Tean whispered into her ear as if it were a secret. He pressed his mouth to her neck twice and returned to her lips.

            “I have always loved you, too,” she replied in the same tone between kisses.

            Tean criss-crossed his fingers between hers again as they walked back to his house, snacking softly on freeze-dried Aionian versions of a plant that used to grow on vines on Earth called cranberries. They were slightly sweeter than the cardboard meal rations they ate three times a day, but still were very tasteless.

            “Mom used to give me chocolate,” she told Tean, “I only remember that it was really delightful and always cheered me up when I was sad.”

            “With dad, it was usually fruit. I liked their sweetness, and he always told me that they were good for me,” Tean smiled. As they recollected about when they were young, Tean was reminded of his love for his parents; when he had love and warmth. Tean was only eight when his parents were executed. From then on, he was left to grasp at faint memories of the warmth he had. With Shri, he could feel that he had warmth and love with her, too.

            September soon approached, as did Tean’s 30^th birthday, like a chilling wind breathing down their necks. The two spent every moment with each other, holding onto their newfound warmth for as long as they could, knowing that the 13^th neared them.

            “I don’t want you to leave me, Tean,” Shri whispered in a broken voice.

            “I don’t want to leave you,” he murmured to her, smoothing her hair as the two sat snuggled close to one another in the two-seater. He continued to Shri in the same, soothing tone, “But you’ll let me go. You’ll be strong, I know it,” he seemed to struggle to maintain the soft timbre of his voice as tears threatened to choke his words. “Look at how far you’ve come already.” Of course, he was referring to Shri’s parents.

            Tears already tracked Shri’s face. Both of them knew that she wasn’t as resilient as Tean described, but neither of them said anything about it to spare their breath.

            It was shameful how Aionians had the nerve to exterminate the remaining Earthlings the way they did. No matter how understandable it was that Aionians wanted to save money on trips from Aion to bring food and supplies that could no longer be made or grown on Earth, it was cruel to have an age limit set to speed up the process to finally rid all life from Earth, rather than let us live our full lives.

            It was cruel, but efficient; beneficial only to the Aionians. That was all that mattered, anyway. Earthlings were undesirables given enough pity not to be destroyed with nuclear bombs. Did Aionian government officials have hearts?

            Or were they malicious to let them watch their loved ones be executed one by one? It was difficult to fathom the Aionians’ true intentions, living so many light-years away from Earth.

            A few days later, Tean took Shri to the playground again, hoping to make the day last for all it was worth. Just as they reached the sacred place of memories, a Flyer flew overhead. An earsplitting gunshot sounded and filled the still air. And Tean fell dead. Shri knew that she would meet the same fate in three years of cold loneliness.

------

            As Shri pasted an azure pigment to her lips, all she would think of was the pressure of Tean’s kiss. It had been two and a half years since the Flyer planted a bullet in his head and still, Shri did not sleep a single night without nightmares. Every day was spent in Tean’s home, eating rations, moping on his two-seater, eating some more, showering then falling asleep to horrendous dreams. The routine hardly varied.

            Today was one of those days when Shri would have to open the door to retrieve the quarterly supply of food rations sent from Aion. She’d shuffle out to the porch to find the package, take it inside, and organize it into the cabinet. However, today, the Deliverer of the rations was still setting down the large box when Shri surprised him by opening the door.

            “… Thank you …” Shri mumbled through heavy-feeling lips as the Deliverer handed her the supplies.

            His dazzling golden eyes looked up to her as she did. He nodded a “You’re welcome,” to her and noticed the tears that stained her cheeks. Shri paid no attention to the man and quickly turned to shut the door, but the Deliverer caught his foot in the small slit before she could. “How old are you?” he asked suddenly.

            The question caught Shri by surprise. “29.” The Deliverer’s beautiful face quickly turned to shock.

            “Come with me,” he whispered rapidly, pulling her to his vehicle. Shri hadn’t stepped farther from Tean’s house than the porch in nearly three years, and now, being in the open was uncomfortable. Before Shri could object, she was strapped into the passenger seat of his car and the two were speeding down to the transport station to Aion. During the course of the ride, she could not help but stare at the Aionian’s beauty. His skin had a golden glow that Shri had never seen before.

            “Where are you taking me?” Shri asked the man as he led her from his car to a disc-shaped inter-stellar transport vehicle.

            He answered her as if it were obvious, “To Aion, of course. Do you want to be shot and killed?” Shri became too choked up with the pain of Tean’s execution to speak. Within a matter of a few hours of dead silence, they began landing onto the gorgeous planet of Aion.

            The greenery was breathtaking to Shri; it was nothing like the frigid Earth she had always known. No longer was the landscape painted in plain, varying shades of navy, but in bright hues of reds, greens, and oranges. The skies still held a familiar cerulean color, but there were bright green plants and red flowers. It looked so much like the drawings in her childhood storybooks. Shri looked to the eastern sky, and she found what she’d been searching for for years:  an assuring sense of warmth known only to her as the Sun.

            The Deliverer carefully and quietly led the cold Earthling out the passenger-side door. Had he done the right thing by bringing her here? Would she get caught by the authorities? Would both of them get killed? He decided to show her around.

            The Deliverer zoomed the girl around in his Aionian vehicle, describing the plants, buildings, and new technologies. She seemed extremely fascinated by the world he lived in and the man began to feel sorry for all that she had missed out on.

            After the tour, the Deliverer brought her into his house so she could stay while she got accustomed to her new surroundings. He also did so to make sure he could keep an eye on her and away from authorities. Her skin had not yet tanned to the same tone as the Aionians’.

            As she gazed out the window at this new world, Shri realized how much potential the new planet held for her. She had color, and Sun, and light here. No limit to her lifespan; no more tasteless food rations, blue lipstick, or boring days.

            And then the truth hit her like a bowling ball. Wherever Shri lived, there’d be no Tean, and now, she was farther from him and his warmth than ever.

            The following morning, the Deliverer awoke and headed downstairs for his breakfast. Rounding the corner, it brought horror to his eyes to find a pale, bloodied Earthling lying motionless on the kitchen floor, with a pleasant smile on her face.

------

Stupid Blogger made this post the day I wrote it instead of Saturday like usual. So, surprise! You all get early posts, but won't get another for a week and a half.

[Torn Up]

Sorry for the late post, if anyone every really swings by here anymore. I feel like I'm eluding myself that people are by checking in so often, I make visitor counter goes up. Dunno.

Feeling kinda lethargic, 'cause of all the terrible things that happened over in Japan. I'm worried about the people who died, who got injured, and lost their homes and families. I'm also worried about how the radiation from the nuclear plant explosion will make its way around and affect the inhabitants of Japan. It's also concerning how Japan shifted eight feet. I'm not sure how that will affect future events.

I've got a short story to write by Thursday, but whatever I try to type down doesn't seem quite right and I have to delete it. ( Sorry if this post seems lacking in descriptions. ) I can't seem to draw anything well or do my make-up right. My nail art was a disaster. I can't even look at my homework.

It just kinda tears me up when people go on casually with their lives as if the earthquake in Japan didn't happen, and neither did the tsunami or countless aftershocks. I feel really useless right now.

Sorry for the lame post.

[Caught Under the Willows]

So, that story that Melinda and I wrote over the summer of 2O1O I mentioned in my first post? It's called Under the Willows, and I decided to send a modified snippet of the second chapter in for a local writing contest. I wanted to share it with you guys. I hope you like it, and if you would like to read the first chapter, it's posted here.

-------

Caught Under the Willows

            I woke up to glass breaking. I looked around, realizing it was still dark. I couldn’t help but get angry. My parents were fighting again; and at the middle of night, no less. Couldn’t they control themselves? I decided to go downstairs to make sure no one got hurt. I didn’t know it, but that choice changed my life forever.

            Putting on my robe, I wondered why my parents were even up this late. Nevertheless, I sneaked downstairs to see what they were doing. I could hear shouting from the base of the stairs, and I slowly stepped down. “They must be in the living room,” I thought. I inaudibly made my way down into the hallway. I crouched low, beginning to army crawl. I heard their voices more clearly, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. Suddenly, I sneezed, giving away my position. I darted back to the stairs, for once hoping my parents were too drunk to hear me. When the talking resumed, I began making my way back to the hallway.

            I crawled forward again. The voices were louder, so I moved up and looked around the corner of the hallway. I could see two figures having a whispered argument. I was having a hard time knowing which one was mother and which one was father. I assumed the thinner of the two figures was Mother. I leaned in closer to hear what they were saying.

            “Oh, you just had to go and break the glass, didn’t you?” Father said, in a deep voice. He paced around the room. “Do you want us to get caught?” He said, lifting his head. “Is that what you want?”

            “Captain, I told you, it wasn’t me! It blew over from the window,” said a voice that was obviously not my mother’s. I wondered who my father was talking with this late at night. And they called him “Captain.” What did that mean?

            Suddenly, a pair of gloved hands pulled me up from behind. One of the hands went over my mouth, while the other held my arms together behind my back. I tried to scream, but the hand covering my mouth stopped me from doing so. I tried to squirm away, but whoever was holding me had a tight grip. They forced me over to where Father was standing. As we got closer, though, I realized that it was not my father. He was taller, wider, and unshaven. I tried to scream again, without any luck.

            “Captain,” said the man holding me, “I found her in the hallway. She was listening to what you guys were saying. What should I do with her?” I was paralyzed with fear, and my eyes grew wide. I realized this was it. They were going to kill me, there was no way they would let me just crawl back into bed.

            “Oh, take her out to the yard first and then we’ll decide. Fisher, give Seaman the girl while you go out and load the van. We’ll be out shortly,” he instructed the one who I guessed was Fisher. I tried to pry loose when he passed me to the other guy, Seaman, but they were too strong. Seaman’s grip grew even tighter as he walked me out the door. His hand slipped off of my mouth, and I took that chance to scream.

            “Shut up! Don’t you know any better? Now, we really have to go!” Seaman started to walk faster to the van parked in front of my house. “Captain, we don’t have time to get rid of her, we’re just gonna have to throw her in the van for now,” he said, with a worried tone. Just before he shoved me in the back, I saw my willow trees in the yard, the ones I grew up with all my life.  Their branches swayed wildly in the rising wind. I started to kick and scream with much more effort now. I needed to be free, to be with my family, my dog, and most of all, my willows. When they closed the van into darkness, a shower of tears rolled down my face. My Wisconsin life was over.

[Hectic]

This week, I haven't really much to show you guys but me in my whole, and nothing but me ( and some clothes, or else things'd get kinky in here and Josh wouldn't like that ). So, I decided just to kinda rant about my week, if you guys don't mind. Hey, you might actually learn something about me.

School's been real hectic. Us Americans had Monday off to celebrate President's Day. Then, we kicked it into high gear when we returned to school on Tuesday with a whole bunch of home and classwork. Due to multiple snow days here in the Midwest, a lot of dates and schedules got pushed off track. Many of my teachers took this week to try to squeeze everything in and return things back to normal next week, but they didn't realize how hard it'd be on us students. I have multiple quizzes next week to study for and big projects.

I also have to write some poetry this weekend about where I Am From. This is because we are reading The Giver by Lois Lowry in class and we are trying to contrast the lifestyle portrayed in Jonas's life with ours by writing poems using memories of our past and childhood. An example line might be, "I am from goodnight kisses, apple cider on Halloween nights, and a loving family of five." I might post my poem next Saturday, or the following if I haven't finished the final draft by then.

On Wednesday, we got scheduling papers to prepare for the next year.  I'll be taking several advanced courses, and I will be starting French, which excited me. I'll also be taking Advanced Art class. I was a little wary about this at first, because I didn't get to take regular art this year due to complications, but I talk to the art teacher about it and showed her some of my artwork. She very openly accepted me into her class, so that's good.

The following day, I had a two-hour long Honors Orchestra rehearsal after school, which was tiring. Honors Orchestra has a very limited number of rehearsals ( 2 ) before our two performances, so it was understandable to make them so long. However, a lot is expected from us, and styling of the music is complicated. We have three pieces, one in which the bow strokes are very short and classical, one in which the bow strokes are elongated, connected and exaggerated, and one in which there is a boy in a cape running around, bopping people on the head, and making them play better. Transitions between songs will most likely be very mushy, considering the contrast between the styling.

Those were two hours invested in my violin, and taken out of homework time, and I had a big quiz the next day. So, I get home from the rehearsal, grab a bite, hopped in and out of the shower and got to work with my homework. However, my brother also had homework, and me being his older sister, it was my responsibility to help him with anything that was troubling. That night, I finally plopped into bed at eleven-thirty, though my usually bedtime is around ten.

I woke up today ( 'cause I'm writing this on Friday ), at five-thirty in the morning. Now, assuming that I took the usual half-hour to fall asleep, I had only slept five and a half hours last night. And now, it's about an hour to midnight, and what am I doing? Blogging. My body is plumb, tuckered out, but my mind is flying around. Filled with words to type, story ideas, people I've seen today, and just... a jumbled mess that is my head.

Well, anyway, I hoped you've read this far if I haven't bored you to death already. Thanks. Some other time? Surely.

[Thriving]

A water moss admires a stone’s strong diligence
To keep to its gut
And attaches to it
And thrives
But a drought dries the pond
The earth shakes with a fury greater than the sun
And needs are not met
So the water moss moves on
But the stone stood its ground
The water moss looked to settle in the damp sand
But the water moss was not satisfied
It found a broken log, thinking it had potential
But the log failed the moss
The stone stayed in its place
Watching the moss’s sorry attempts
Longing for its companionship
While the water moss came to realize
That it needed something strong to live with
The water moss regretted ever leaving the stoic stone
It returned to it, embarrassed with guilt
But the strong stone accepted the moss back with open arms
And so the water moss
Attaches to it
And thrives

[Falling Apart]

A pin drops to the floor, cataclysmic
And another
And another
'Til each pin becomes the foundation
Of a mountain of unanticipated Armageddon.
Yet another pin drops
Onto the mound of waiting chaos
And explodes.
We are falling apart.
And the pin cushion is left
Picking up the pieces
Working herself ragged
'Til she can barely hold her pins.
The sewer pricks her with one final pin
And her pins shall drop again.
And She shall sit there
Contemplating all she had done
To deserve such a strike by the sewer's hand.

[Rainbow Nails]

This week, I decided to mess around with nail polish again.

This is very easily accomplished, believe it or not.

First, you'll need a pink, a yellow, and electric blue nail polish.

Place a drop of each colour at different areas of the nail.

Then take a tooth-pick and swirl the colours together until the nail polish fills the nail. Don't mix the colours too much! You want a swirled look, not a brown goop!

When that fully dries, apply a clear coat and you're finished.

[RE: I'm Only Sleeping]

This week, I'm replying to a blog of my friend's, "I'm Only Sleeping"


I couldn't help but laugh quietly to myself at those dream tellings, I'm sorry. I hardly ever remember my dreams, but the ones I DO remember give me a scare, or are really bizarre.


Like the one from a night sometime this week. Only my brother and I were home. The doorbell rang, so I peeked through the curtain to see who was there. Through the fabric, I could only see shapes of several gunmen. For some reason, I opened the door and it turned out that the gunmen were all my male neighbours between the ages of 12 and 18 with large Nerf guns. I turned around, and my brother was holding on of his Nerf guns. Apparently, they were asking if I could join them in a big neighourhood Nerf shootout. I slammed the door in their faces, and waved goodbye in the window by the door.

One time, I dreamed up my to-be first kiss. It was a contest where everyone had to grab someone they didn't know and kiss 'em. Then, they'd get their names put in a drawing for some elaborate prize. Anyway, whatever the prize was, I wanted it, and I entered. An old friend of mine did as well. So, he said to me, "C'mon, Sara. We don't know each other," and winked. Then we got to it. When I pulled away, he said, "More effort next time," and gave my a side-ways thumb. I got real mad at him and slapped him. I've never told him about it.


A childhood dream I had was that it was raining out, and my dad and I went out onto the driveway. Puddles of water gathered, and I looked into one. Then, I turned my attention to reality, and my dad was gone. Then, I look back into the puddle, only to have a shark jump out and eat me.

I had another while I was at a grandmother's, staying the night. I dreamed that I was at my other grandmother's, and I was fully aware. I was lying down on a large grand piano, which I don't recall them having, and I said to myself, "I didn't go to bed here, did I?" Then I turned, fell onto some keys and slammed my head against the corner of the piano bench, thus killing myself again.

Once, I remember that for some demented reason, I had the time to grow my nails out so long, they curled and could practically hang clothes. Then, I crossed my arms in a self-hugging manner, and pulled away, grabbing at my skin. I looked down and saw I was bleeding and my nails etched deep wounds at my own arms. I them crumpled to the ground... and died.

In a nutshell, I die a lot in my dreams. I don't know what that says about me, but I distinctly remember having a few dreams about killing people, too. I can't remember details, though. So, let me ask you: Ever had strange dreams? Scary dreams? Share 'em in the comments, or reply to my questions in your blog.

[Colour]

This week, I spent a lot of time screwing around with makeup. Actually, all week, I've been very artsy. I doodled way too much in class, painted my nails very other night, and tried bolder makeup looks. I always have had an interest in makeup and I thought I'd share a few pictures of the two very dramatic looks I tried. I took both from tutorials by Klaire de Lys.

First, a Tron: Legacy Inspired Look.

And then, a Colour Burst look.

I usually never wear this much makeup. On weekdays, I only wear a bit of black eyeshadow and mascara. And on weekends, I don't wear any at all. Apparently, this week was not the case. Anyhow, I'm sorry this post is so short. I'll try to compensate for it next week.

[Lost]

Refusing to be infuriated
Rejecting my sorrow
Resilient and unbroken
I am in agregate authority over my emotions

But I tell great untruths
My stealth, my vigor
It is all merely a facade
A shroud of lies I drape upon myself

Cowering in fear
Fuming with lividity
Frail and vulnerable
I am hopelessly lost in a labyrinth of lies

[The Day Log of an Adopted Fish]

I spent my time writing on this instead of finding time to write my blog, so I decided to make it useful and be my blog. I will make edits to this version when I fix up my draft, so if you'd like to see the final project, be sure to check back for the polished edition. The title is still up for debate, but this is the one I liked best so far. I hope you like what I wrote. It's only supposed to be a short story, so it moves fast. I had to squeeze a lot of plot into a short time frame.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

August 21st

The Ol' Switcharoo

     I swear that one day, they're gonna start putting innocent fish in prison for taking a leak in your neighbour's algae garden; the world was just that hectic.

     It's like this morning. I woke up in some stranger's home with some other fish I've never met. I never thought it'd happen, but I'd been adopted and I had to face it now. The fact kinda hit me like a ton of bricks, though. It must've happened sometime while I was asleep.

     They had pulled the "Ol' Switcharoo" on me.

August 22nd

A Human Thing

     Today, I met two boys, Jack and Alex. They were exactly two years apart, Jack being the older brother. From the chatter I overhear, both me and the stranger that resides in the bowl with me were their birthday gifts.

     Jack, the older boy, liked me for my silver colour and orange-red tinged fins and decided to claim me as his. He decided my name to be Michael.

     Alex quite liked the other fish's almost transparent body colour because he found it astounding to be able to see his spine and named him Jordan.

     When he did, the two adults laughed. Then, the two boys joined in. There must've been something funny about Jordan's name, but whatever it was, I did not quite understand it.

     Must've been a human thing.

August 23rd

Jenny

     Today, the adults let Jack and Alex begin to feed us. When they dropped the food at the top of the bowl, I rushed to the colourful flakes and munched on them. Jordan, however seemed to fear the kids. Maybe he just wasn't used to them, yet. I left some of the food flakes for him to eat, but he stayed near the bottom of the bowl until Jack and Alex left. I asked him why he did and he just told me that he didn't trust him like he did Jenny, the girl who took care of us at the shop with the bright lights.

     Do I have any reason to trust the boys either? The food I ate could have been poisonous. These people could have sick and twisted minds and adopt fish only to poison and kill them. Maybe I'm just over thinking this ordeal.

     One thing for sure is that I miss Jenny, too.

August 24th

Trust

     The boys started school today and their mother fed us this morning while they were away. She looked a lot like Jenny and had her same light brown coloured hair which must've explained why Jordan was less hesitant to swim to the top of the bowl to eat.

     Jack was entering the eighth grade today. He came home with a lot of schoolwork and Alec did as well, or at least more than he was used to since he just started middle school.

     While they were busy with homework, the mother decided that she would feed us tonight as well.

     I think I can trust her.

August 25th

Forgotten

     The mother's summer break ended today and she started up work again. She left for work earlier than the boys did for school and came home late, too.

     No one fed us at all today. Jordan and I are really miserable right now seeing as there is no food in us. I'm in a lot of pain right now, and I'm sure that Jordan is, too.

     I feel so forgotten.

August 26th

Bliss in Death

     This morning, I couldn't seem to find Jordan anywhere. The father realised that no one fed us yesterday. He put extra flakes in the bowl for us to make up for it.

     When I swam up to eat, though, I saw Jordan belly-up. I was devastated and didn't want to eat. But my hunger took over and I knew that I would die too if I didn't.

     I guess it's kinda cheesy to say that Jordan was in a better place now, but it was true. His death ended his pain, just starving like he did.

     I guess that there is bliss in death.

August 27th.

Goodbye

     Today, I overhead Jack say that he would clean the bowl before he started his schoolwork. I guess he felt conscious about feeding me now that Jordan was gone.

     When he puts me in the sink, I'm gonna jump. I'm afraid that Jack and Alex might forget to feed me again and I'd starve like Jordan. I don't think I'm strong enough to be able to take that pain again. I'd rather die swiftly and effortlessly than fight starvation and deal with the excruciating feeling in my gut from the other night.

     This is my last post.

     Goodbye.