So you might have heard of this TV show...

Not sure where I have been the past seven years, but I just found out about Dexter last week. I was having a conversation with a friend and he said "If you like Walking Dead, then you will love Dexter." Now I am not sure what parallel he was drawing between the two shows, but I do really like Dexter.

I think what makes me like the character of Dexter Morgan is how he is written. Yes, he is a sociopathic serial killer, but he isn't quite painted as a monster. He lacks emotion and he seems more like a shell than something that goes bump in the night. That is what makes him interesting to me. Also, the actor they got for him is pretty much perfect. There is something dark and heavy about his eyes, but not absolutely terrifying. Very much the mysterious and misunderstood guy next door. 

And the monologues that go through Dexter's head are interesting as well. I guess is not what I would expect to be going through the mind of a serial killer. I stereotypically think that in the inner workings of a person like that to be scary and unnerving. But it's not that in the least. it is more lack of understanding the way the rest of humanity works and having to fake like you do. Killing is the only thing that makes sense, but not in an animalistic sort of way. In a simple, clear and logical thought process.

I have only seen the first season and a few episodes of the second. If I ever were to write a killer, I would want it to be similar to the way that Dexter is written.

Just enough to make you interested

There is something about that blinking cursor on a blank page that is absolutely torturous. Something about the idea that is buzzing about in your skull, but for some reason refuses to show itself on the page in front of you. It just hides in the corners of your mind, only to show itself again when you are the most inconvenienced by it. Or when it is impossible for you to capture it and wrangle it on a page.

 Most of my writing exercises are parts of stories, snapshots of things taken out of the context of a larger work. But I feel like so much is lost when I write that way. There is no build up, no reason why the reader should care about what is going on. I have been watching a lot of shows recently where something dramatic happens and I am so involved in what is going to happen next. But not because of what is happening at that moment. It is more because I understand the connection between the characters and know their history. That makes the moment much more than if I were to just turn it on and see that moment without the context of entire story.

Unfortunately, for the build up I want, I feel like so much more has to be established and that takes lots of time and effort and writing. And then there are times when I feel like I go too far back. For example, I remember writing something and being told that the first two chapters could go and I should have started at the third. But I thought that laying the foundation would be important for understanding what was going to happen later on in the story. However, the person reading it wanted to get straight to the action and found the first two chapters to be very slow.

And it is not the first time I had done that. There was a story that I wanted to write and climax was going to happen when the main character had to fight his rival. Of course this fight happens when he was an adult, but I wanted to start the story when he was a child. I felt it needed to start there for the reader to understand how the situation at the end came to be.

But is there such thing as too much? Too much foundation, too much explaining of things, too much setting of the scene that the point of the story totally gets drowned in factoids and the reader gets bored. Where do you find that happy middle ground where you have told just enough to get the reader invested in what you have to say?

Anyway, those are my thoughts for this morning.

Daily Write - In My Own Image

The characters of Nicodemas and Erad are borrowed while Cixi is mine. I have been playing around with an idea for a story and the relationship between these three characters interested me. So I have playing around with some "what if" scenarios. If I ever write anything seriously, I will most likely be changing some names around. Definitely don't want to be stealing characters.


The door slammed with a loud finality, shaking the frame it hung in. Nicodemas had stayed upstairs, listening to the yelling that had come from below. It was unsettling hearing the two of them go at it, Erad and Cixi. They never screamed, especially at each other. But it was all over now. The only thing left was the angered brooding silence hanging thick in the air.

"You shouldn't be so hard on her," Nicodemas replied, trying to keep his voice as low as possible, making his way down the stairs, "Youth are prone to making mistakes. You know that better than most."

In all the time Nicodemas had known Erad, he had never seen him so visibly enraged. Erad was usually calm and distanced. But not tonight. Tonight, Erad's eyes burned and his  white knuckled fists would not unclench themselves. Nicodemas tried to reach out and place a calming hand on his friend's shoulder, but Erad only shrugged it off, pacing to the other side of the room.

"She was given implicit instruction never to use that technique on anyone unless it meant the loss of her life. And she ignored it," Erad growled out through clenched teeth, "Not only ignored it, but used it against a friend."

"Well let's be honest, Cixi and Calendre aren't really friends at this point."

Erad threw a glowering look into Nicodemas' direction. Nicodemas quietly sighed, lowering himself into a chair near the fireplace.

"I know. I know," Nicodemas replied, "That's beside the point. Look, she made a mistake, Erad. One I'm sure that she won't make again. But you can't simply refuse to train her over it. You have to take her back as your student. She was starting to do so well under you. The Commander was just beginning to think something of her. You stop training her now and you take all that away."

"You didn't see her fighting out there, Nic. I did."

Some of the fury was starting to ebb away from Erad's tone, being replaced with something else. Some other emotion that was just as burning.

"She executed that move without so much as flinching. Not a spec of doubt in her eyes. She did it just to see if she could best Calendre."

"But she never actually intended to strike Calendre down with it. Cixi said so herself," Nicodemas pointed out. "She was just showing off, trying to make Calendre back down."

"And that is what makes it worse."

Erad finally slid into the chair across from Nicodemas, leaning his head back and staring at nothing. He ran his fingers through his silver-white hair. Nicodemas didn't say anything. The silence was still heavy, but less charged than before, as if someone had opened a window and traded anger for regret and disappointment.

"Our Cixi would have never tried something like that on anyone," Erad began, his words forming slowly on his lips, "At least not before she started training under me. I had thought perhaps I had changed. That maybe I could pass on my knowledge differently this time. But I suppose that monsters can only make monsters."

"You aren't a monster, Erad," Nicodemas whispered.

"And yet I watched as one of the most gentle people I know decided to practice killing on one of our friends just to see if she had mastered it. So tell me, what else would you call that?"

Uncertain - Continued (more like discontinued, really)

So, it is odd how things work out sometimes. The day after I wrote my last blog, I got a call from a friend. She's someone that has known me for quite some time. We speak every now and again, but don't really spend much time together any more. Anyway, I get a call and she invites me out to hang with her around the city. It was unexpected, but I was jazzed to go. I really wasn't doing anything with my weekend anyway. Of course what she forgets to tell me is that she is meeting up with other friends who are already waiting for her. 

It's not that I don't like meeting new people, I'm just really out of practice and I feel uncomfortable initially. This usually leads to me to not speaking at all and being awkward. However, I must have been doing something right because the next thing I know, I'm being invited out to other parties and I'm making a social calendar. It was odd and great at the same time. That whole being alone thing wasn't there any more. It was a good feeling. I like it. Hopefully this happens more often. 


In other news, there will be no NaNoWriMo for me this year. There just isn't enough hours in the day. Just have way too much going on this year to make a concerted effort to create a story and then write it. It makes me sad, because I haven't missed in four years. But, priorities are priorities. I will pull my noveling machine out next year. Who knows, maybe I will actually do Script Frenzy instead.

So the pieces are slowly starting to come together. Still waiting. Life is still changing. But I feel better about it today.

Uncertain

I feel like I'm at this odd point in my life. I wish I had the words to explain it, but I really don't. It feels like treading water, like I am just doing something while I wait for the next big thing to happen. But I have no idea what that big thing is. It is just there, looming just outside of my perception. But I know it is coming. So all I can do is just wait...wait for it to happen and change everything.

And I don't think I have ever felt more disconnected than I do right now. All my classmates, present and past are gone. Off doing other things. It is just me now. Outside of my family, I don't really talk to anyone. At least not face to face. I go to work and come home. Nothing in between. And for some reason, now I am really feeling that void, that nothing. I can't say that it makes me sad or depressed or anything like that. I just notice it more.

My whole life is in flux and I can't do anything about it. A chapter is heading towards the end and a new one is beginning. But the swirl that is happening right now is...uncomfortable. I feel very much out of control. Things scare me. Doubt, anxiety, worry, all waiting in the dark corners at the back of my mind like traps for me to fall into.

I'm just treading water, just waiting and waiting.

Gearing up for November

Well look at that. Another NaNoWriMo is approaching. I haven't figured out if I am actually going to participate. However, I say that every year and every year I end up writing. Maybe it is a ritual that I have to make myself go through or something. I usually have a story idea by this time. Or at least a character or something. But this year, I don't really have much of anything. I thought about writing some more children's stories. I know that I probably won't hit the 50k mark doing that, but it would get more books in the series written. And having something is better than having nothing.

Honestly, I really don't feel like writing any else. What I mean by that, I don't feel like creating anything new. I feel like I have a ton of stories already done and hashed out in my head. There really isn't any reason to go and start created more from scratch. I should work on what I already have in front of me. I probably should be working on my writing more than I should anyway. I am not sure what happens. I write, write, and write and then things get laid to the side. Laid to side for too long and then they are forgotten or replaced with something new. And then nothing gets finished. I really would like to finish something.

And when I say finish, I mean something polished and presentable. Something that I would not mind others reading and passing on to others. Right now, the "finish" I have is the terrible rough drafts that I bang out during my month of furious noveling. And while that is better than nothing, I feel that I should have something presentable and polished by now.

So what is different this year that makes me think that I will not be able to participate? Well, NaNoWriMo is falling smack into application and interview season for me. I need to be focusing on that and not trying to push out 50k on children's stories. On top of that, I will still be in rotations and who knows if I will have taken my Step 2 by then. Any extra time needs to go to studying for that. But I give myself all these reason why I can't do it, but I know in my heart of hearts I am going to attempt it. I always do. And the thing this is going to push me to do it is someone telling me that it can't be done. I hate when people say that to me and something in me has to prove them wrong. Just absolutely has to. 

I have a long list of children's stories that I want to tell. Something else that got put on the back burner and never looked at for however long. We shall see what this year brings. If I win, great. If I don't, not going to beat myself up over it. It is several more books added to the series that I didn't have before.

Daily Write - Coming of the Silver Dragon

Lightning split the sky, illuminating the darkness for only a few seconds before the landscape slipped back into darkness. The crack and roar of thunder peeled a moments later. However, that sound was not any louder than the pounding of the horses' hooves as they galloped, full speed, on the winding dirt road. It wasn't any louder than blood that was pulsing in his ears or the beat of his heart as it hammered inside of his chest. This was not supposed to happen like this. It was not supposed to be happening at all. If anything happened to his brother... The size of the lump in his throat only grew as panicked thoughts and fearful visions rushed through his mind. He dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, spurring it on faster.

The destination was just visible, the flashes of light showing the dark outline of the manor estate against the cloud covered night sky. The heavens above started to open up as the cold sheets of rains started to fall. He kept going, yelling for his horse to go faster, yelling for the rest of the group to keep up. He could feel it now, stronger as he got closer. It covered his skin like an invisible, oily film. He could sense it in the air he breathed, almost feeling it coating the inside of his mouth, like breathing in an invisible smoke. Never had he felt anything like this before. It scared him. It scared him beyond measure. He had to find Valens. He had to find his brother, before it happened.

They were almost there. He could see the flicker of lights in the windows. He screamed at the top of his lungs. He screamed Valens name over and over, though the rain and thunder were much louder than he could ever be. Then he felt it. A building swell, a dragging in of all energies, a mammoth influx like nothing he had ever felt before. His horse reared up, whinnying and kicking as it did so. All the rest of the horses did the same, refusing to go a step further. It did not matter how many times the riders dug their heels into their flanks, the horses were not moving.

"What's the matter with these stupid animals?"

"Something has them..."

He could feel it, like a giant wave coming to crash down on their heads. He turned and shouted, "Get down!"

The light was blinding, the blast deafening. The glass windows shattered, all of them, shards littering the ground outside. The heavy wooden doors shot of their hinges as if they were nothing but paper be blown about in the wind, splintering under the force of the blast. The stone steps cracked. The very ground shook as the swell erupted, knocking everyone to the ground who wasn't already there. He dug his fingers into the mud underneath him, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. If anything happened to this brother...

He looked up at the house. It was as if something had picked it up and dropped it again. A crack split the building in two and the roof had been peeled clean off. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the muffled ring sounding in his ears. He had to find Valens. His brother had to be okay.  He choked on the dust as he stumbled over the threshold, through the darkness and the rubble. He shouted, but there was no answer. Just the sound of the rain and his own heart. In the flash of the lightning, he saw it. On the wall was a woman, dressed in a long sleeved gown, face disgustedly twisted and staring into the distance. There was a spear through her abdomen and a sword through her throat, both still dripping with blood. He stepped over bodies that littered the floor. A man and a woman both lying in pools of blood next to each other. Another man was pinned to a pillar, arrow going through his neck. The panic was growing, knotting up in his stomach. Where was his brother? He shouted again and again. And thunder was the only thing that answered.

Finally, in the darkness, someone called back.

"Viktor..."

He turned. He wasn't his brother's voice. It was one of the men that came with him, kneeling next to one of the bodies. All he could see was a head of long silver hair. He walked over and looked down. His eyes stung and the knots in his stomach grew tighter.

"No," he said, falling to his knees, "No, no, no..."

There, among the broken stone, at the feet of the woman with the twisted face was Valens. Blood ran from his ears, frothing out of the side of his mouth. His blue eyes were open and stared into nothing. Viktor scooped his brother's lifeless body into his arms, just repeating the same word over and over again. No. No.  The others backed away, hanging their heads. They had been too late.  The transformation was complete.

Late Night Rambles - Revisited

I haven't written a blog in a really long time. Honestly because I can't think of anything to write about. I always feel like my blogs should have something interesting about them that would warrant another person reading it. But I just can't seem to come up with anything like that. So I suppose another ramble will have to suffice.

Life over the past few years has just been a concert of spinning plates for me. It is all a game of how well can you balance everything in life. And it feels like when one plate falls, then rest of them come tumbling down with them. I had everything planned out for how this year was supposed to go. But nothing is really going according to plan. I'm not ready to take my Step 2 exams, while it seems like all my classmates have taken theirs. The whole going on away rotations is not going to be happening for me. (To be honest, I am quite happy that this part of the plan didn't work out. Was not looking forward to going on any externships). I spent an afternoon at the hospital getting an echocardiogram and a weekend wearing a Holter monitor. Nothing like ruling out heart disease before your 30. Plate after plate after plate, just hitting the ground at my feet.

And of course, old habits die hard. When things start going out of control, the first thing I do is to completely retreat. To isolate myself from everyone and everything, because I just can't bear the idea that someone is going to judge me for the mistakes I have made. I want to hide everything that is wrong under a rug, because I have this odd notion that everyone else has it together and I'm the only one that is lost and struggling. And instead of people helping, they will only judge and ask me how did I mess everything up so badly. 

I'm not sure how many times I have to go over this lesson before I finally learn it. Not everyone is out to get me, judge me, belittle me. There are people out there who would help if I would open my mouth and ask for it. Life happens. Plans get disrupted. Humans make mistakes. It's okay. The world is not going to end. So I guess what I am trying to say is that I'm glad there are people around who help me clean up my shattered plates.

Daily Write - Nightmare Begins

The icy water enveloped her like a dark black curtain, swallowing her up, pulling her down into the cold depths. She thrashed and kicked, lungs burning in her chest, but it was useless. The surface was only getting farther and farther away. With open, outstretched fingers, she reached for the stray bits of moonlight that tried to pierce through the inky murkiness of the water. But she could only watch them drift out of her grasp. Panic sunk in its vice like grip as she twisted and writhed against the inevitable. 

Nairi jolted from her sleep, greeted with a jarring headache as she did so. A cold sweat beaded across her forehead and down her neck. How many years had it been since she had had that nightmare? And yet all the familiar fear and panic came seeping back in, settling into their old hewn out crevices of her mind. Nairi slowly sank back down, trying to force back the pounding in her head by squeezing her eyes as tight as she possibly could. The dark room swam about her, walls as liquid as the waves from her nightmare.

"Your head is going to feel like someone is banging on it with a mallet for a while longer," a disembodied voice announced, "If I were you, I would just lie there and not move unless you have to."

Nairi, slowly and carefully, turned her head in the direction of the voice, trying to make the hammering inside her skull any worse. A dim flickering light exposed the fact that she was not by herself. Nairi could only make out shadows of a figure on what looked like a sliding wooden frame covered in a long sheet of parchment.  However, the more Nairi tried to focus, the worse her head throbbed.

"Where am I?" Nairi asked, her hoarse voice barely making its way out of a dry throat.

"My house." was the answer that she got in return.

"Your house?"

"Of course. I bought you. My house was the most logical place to put you. Besides, I'm sure that you have had your fill of sleeping on dungeon floors and sharing living space with rats."

Nairi tried to remember, but everything was so hard to grasp. She remembered a dungeon and guards dressed in chainmail that had seen better days. But again, her aching head made it impossible for Nairi to navigated the melted haze that was her jumbled memory.

"You will remember soon enough," the person responded, almost as if Nairi's struggle to remember was audible, "I do apologize for your current state. I usually measure sleeping droughts impeccably. However, the clothes you were wearing did not show just how skinny you really are."

Nairi closed her eyes, lying still as her head pulsed like a biologic metronome.There was a  quiet scratching noise that could be heard when everything fell silent, like a fountain pen going across parchment. The soft noise outside the walls sounded like rain. Nairi slowly began to realize that she did not recognize her surroundings at all.

"You bought me?"

The words came out of her mouth very slow, as if the concept of such a thing could not be comprehended.

"Probably best if you don't think about it right now."

I create for me

I am feeling very ranty right now, so here it goes.

I remember a conversation that I had a little while ago and I was pretty upset by it. And thinking about it, I am still pretty upset by it. Most likely because this conversation keeps resurfacing, just in different forms. I have been writing for quite a long time. So anyone that knows me is pretty well acquainted with the fact that it is something I do and do with a passion. So there is a person close to me whose knee jerk reaction to just about everything is to assume that you are doing nothing. It doesn't matter what the situation is or how important the situation is. You aren't doing anything about it. It's not just me that this happens to. Everyone gets accused of doing nothing. But it doesn't make it any less annoying.

So the start of the conversation was me being accused of wasting my time when I could be writing. That I probably hadn't written anything in months. I should be writing instead of doing whatever it was that I was supposedly doing. I wanted to bite the person. How dare they?! I had been writing constantly! Just because I hadn't been talking about it, don't just come at me, telling me that I have been doing nothing. Then came the lame excuse of "Well how was I suppose to know?" How about asking? That tends to work when you want to know information.

The continuation of this conversation falls into the "why aren't your writing stuff that could be published?" category. I tend to write things that don't fall into the publishing category, like short fan fics or random clippets of things that are running around in my head that don't really have a place in a story. Well not yet anyway. But I don't feel like I'm wasting my time with it. If anything, I am making my writing better by seeing what works and what doesn't. And while the end goal is getting my name on a cover of a book that other people read, that isn't always my drive. I create stories because I want to. Because I like putting my thoughts down on paper. Not everything I do has to be driven by monetary return. I think the statement that burned me here was, "Well you need to stop messing around and hurry up and get published." Seriously? This is what you want to say to me?

It's like this person believes I can just walk into a some magic publishing warehouse, add my book to the pile, and say "Get that on the shelves for me. Thanks, you're such a doll.". Again, this person is going to make me bite them.

And the conversation rounds the bend with the constant talk of me writing and finally getting a novel done. And not encouragement, no, why would they ever do that? It's those backhanded comments. I was talking about bettering my computer in order to play video games on it. The response I get, "Well, I thought you would be using your spare time to write, so you can publish your book." Really? You and I are about to stop speaking. Keep messing with me. And here is what really gets a rise out of me. This person is supposed to be writing as well; the same as me. But do they have anything done? Nope! And yet they think they can give me a whole bunch of advice on what I'm supposed to be doing. Next time I hear this noise, I am going to tell them I will show them my book if they show me theirs.

I create because I want to. I write because I want to. And yes, there are times when I am slacking and procrastinating. But seriously, writing is my hobby and I will enjoy it. I am not working on anyone else's schedule. I don't care if you think I should have a dozen books published by now or you think I am wasting time working on frivolous pieces that aren't going to amount to anything. I will do what I want. I don't create for you. I create for me.

Now back to our friendly programming already in progress!

Juicing - Tapping out

So yeah, I didn't make it to day 3. Fought off the food cravings for as long as possible, but gave in and ate. I suppose I can be a bit proud of myself. I went two full days without any solid food. And my entire fridge is filled produce, so I will be eating on that instead of eating fast food for a while.

I will most likely be trying this again the near future. Maybe try to go for four days next time instead and use 10 days as the big celebratory goal. I am still going to be using my juicer, just not solely. But I have to say, even though it was only two days, I did like what I saw on the scale this morning. Definitely going to be working hard to keep pushing that number down.

I want to get down on myself for not being able to hang on longer, but that is not really going to help at all. I just keep telling myself that I will do better next time. And for now, just be proud that you even undertook this whole thing at all. I could have been eating pizza and Chinese. Instead, I chose this. It counts.

Juicing - Day 2

So, I have officially gotten the first day of this Juice Quest (thanks to my sister for that name) under my belt. For the most part it wasn't bad, until night came. It seemed all I could think about was what I would have been making for dinner. I found that my brain seems to equate dinner with something salty. I think I am going to have to look up some juices that have spices or something in them. It would probably help curb some of the craving feelings that happen late at night. I did cheat. I had water with a bouillon cube before going to bed last night. My goodness, it was so satisfying. Hence the reason I think I need to find something that has some spice in it. I am not really after the food, I just wanted something that wasn't sweet tasting.

So my first day of this quest started out with my juicer breaking. Yes, I was in the  middle of making my Mean Green Juice and the thing conked out. I wasn't surprised. It was a pretty cheap machine to begin with and I hadn't really used it for much aside from juicing small things, like grapes. So I went and bought a new one. I have to say, the sound of this thing scares the crap out of me every time I turn it on. But I am slowly falling in love with it.

For breakfast this morning, I had something called the Rise and Shine. It is carrots and oranges. It was absolutely delicious. I would drink this for breakfast even if I wasn't doing this. I want to go home and make this for my family so they can try it out. In case you want to make it for yourself...

4 carrots

2 navel oranges

That's it. Throw them in the juicer and love all of it. I thought I would be crazily craving food at this point, but honestly, I'm not. I drink my juice, drink my water and then go on about my day. I picked the best time to do this, because right now I'm hanging out at home and I don't have to encounter food. It would probably be harder if I were at school or hanging out with friends, because any time we have to ourselves, we have to eat. And my friends know the best places to eat.

I remember distinctly I was out at the movies with my friends last year. After the movie, we wanted to go out and eat. One of the people in our group said no. After some prodding, he let us know that he wasn't eating any solid foods and that he was just drinking juice and water. We all looked at him like he was crazy. Why would anyone want to do that to themselves willingly? We told him good luck with his insanity, we were going to get dinner. Never thought that I would be following in his foot steps a year later. I am not sure if I would have been able to say no. Especially if it was my favorite place to eat out. Not really going to test that theory any time soon.

So onwards with Day 2!

Juicing? Why not!

So, last week I watched a documentary called "Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead" that was about an Australian guy named Joe Cross who was overweight and had a condition called chronic urticaria. He decided to go on a 60 day juicing fast and record his journey. Needless to say, it was quite inspirational. So much so, that I decided to give it a go for 10 days.

I definitely have some reservations about it. I don't think that I have gone more that 24 hours without eating solid food and now I'm about to sign on for 10 days. My brain is giving me a ton of reasons why this is the worst decision I could make. But, I'm doing it anyway. And there is no better time than the present. It's summer time, I'm not in rotations any more. I have time to prepare the juices. I just need to close my eyes and take the dive.

I am going to use this time to jump start that whole transformation that I talked about in my last blog. I know that it is not going to be the easiest thing, but I should focus more on how things are going to be in the end instead of how things will feel in the beginning.

I am thinking about blogging about how things are going. Hopefully it just won't be me talking about food. I will probably just need a place to talk out all the thoughts in my head while I try this out. Hmm, that probably means there is going to be some food talk.

I'm adding in other things too, because it just feels right to do so. I have never fasted just for health reasons. Usually whenever I have been on a fast, it is for spiritual reasons. I think focusing on God and my Christian walk will give my mind something to occupied with, so I am not thinking about eating. This will give me the opportunity to dig into some things that I have been putting off for a while.

So, everything starts tomorrow. I picked up all my groceries tonight, have my juice recipes taped on my cabinet above juicer, and am cleaning all dishes so I don't even see remnants of food. So, here it goes, guys. Wish me luck.

Daily Write - Experimental Reaction

I guess I was supposed to be angry. My nostrils were supposed to flare and I was to succumb to a deluge of rage. I guess was supposed to scream so loud that my veins would show and my skin would change colors. That would be a normal reaction. That would be the expected reaction. How else would a person handle the fact that their life had only served as someone else's play thing and everything previous was scrubbed away?

However, I found myself doing none of those things. There was no reaction, actually. There was no insurmountable rise of emotion within me whatsoever. No questions being posed in my mind as I am given the reply of what my life had been like before the day I woke up. It was like staring at the life of a stranger whose only similarity was that they had my face. And then being told the stranger was not one at all. It was in fact me. Me before I was chosen.

I have no memory of this life I had been told I once lived. A lasting effect of the experiments they explain. To prevent me for having a reason to leave the Facility and go searching. It is probably the same reason I cannot make myself feel anything about this situation.

I felt more like a ghost, haunting a dream, drifting through the surrealism that was pictures of me with a family. Mother, father, even a puppy. Very odd, seeing how I'm not sure I like dogs. From what I could tell, I was normal once. Normal and happy.

I don't wonder where they are now, the people in these pictures. Or how long it has been since I last laid eyes on them. They are strangers, just like the person who shares my face. I have no more connection to them than anyone else I would pass in the street. I have no longing or wish to have any of those memories back. What good would they serve me?

No, there is no anger. Everything that happened to me before I was awoken was taken and I can never get it back. I have been one man's experiment, quite a successful experiment at that. I could not become the person in the pictures again if I wanted. I suppose the only thing I feel now is broken. Broken and unattached.

The Quest Begins

Feels like I make this decision all the time. I sit down and take an inventory of my life and decide what it is that needs to be tweaked, rearranged or just plain gotten rid of. But there are some things that I am afraid to say out loud for fear that I will fail. And the fact that I said it will come back and haunt me. So, I don't say them and if I fail, then no one would be the wiser.

But that is probably the wrong approach to a challenge, planning for your failure instead of imagining success. Always thinking "Well, you tried this once and you are still in the same spot you were in before. Not quite sure why you think it is going to be different this time around." But, despite the doubts, I am going to make my decision to do this anyway. And perhaps writing about it will help it stick this time around.

I'm not doing anything novel or something that thousands have not done before. I am aiming for a happier, healthier, improved me. There, I said it. I am looking for a head to toe, inside and out, improvement of everything. I know it sounds like a pretty large order (and that's because it is) but I'm up for the challenge. And here is why.

A year from now I will be ending a chapter in my life that has been pretty long and will be starting something new, in a new place. And I want to start this chapter in my life being happy and healthy and at my best. I am a bit tired of wishing that something miraculous would happen and I would suddenly be healthier. It is time to put in the work and head towards that goal.

So I suppose if I should just be frank about everything. Right now, I am just not happy with anything. I'm overweight, diabetic, pre-hypertension, always feel tired, still have break outs even though I left puberty a long time ago, hair has broken off because of stress and me generally not taking care of it, and this is just the physical part of things.

Recently I have had to deal with depression, anxiety, being overly introverted and the general feeling of being locked away from the world. And I am only doing it myself because I have this fear of...something. Rejection, not fitting in? Who knows. But I'm tired of it. I am quite tired of all of it. I am ready for something different.

So here is the start I suppose. My quest return to a happy and healthy me that I left behind some years ago. And just keep pushing until I get there.

A Surprising evaluation

I am probably going to sound like a broken record, seeing how I think I have already written about how easy it is to believe the worst about things. But I am going to write about it again. Because...well because I can. I had a sit down for a midterm evaluation. I was dreading this like no one's business. I was trying to come up with all the reasons why I was good enough. I already had my list ready to go in order to defend myself and why my entire class was better than me.

So the meeting starts and I am handed my folder. Wonderful, my evals. I never look at these things. Ignorance is bliss. But I open up the folder because I have no choice. I was absolutely bowled over when I saw all the high marks. What? I had impressed these people? How? Why? Me? The shock only continued when the evaluation continued and my only criticism was that I wasn't assertive enough. I was genuinely liked and told that I had an interesting personality but I didn't let people see enough of it.

Well that was not what I was expecting at all. Why do I always think that people are going to reject me? Why am I always scared that I am not going to measure up to everyone else? Why do I always think that I'm less? No one else seems to be thinking this, so why do I assume that they do? While I have no answers for any of these questions, it is still nice to be reminded that I'm not at the bottom of the barrel and I don't have to always feel like people think I'm less than.

Daily Write - To hear those words

She wasn't sure what woke her up. There was no sounds, no lights. She simply opened her eyes and was staring at the dark ceiling above her. It was still dark outside of her window, everyone lulled into comfortable slumbers that would only end with the coming of the morning. She sat up and let the covers fall onto her waist. Slowly the fog around her previously sleeping brain started to lift as she become more awake and alert. She sat there quietly, doing nothing but looking at the darkness.

"I guess I should quit pretending that you don't know that I'm here."

The voice came from the shadows in the far corner of the room and was soon followed by a tall, thin figure showing himself in the grey light of the night. She couldn't see the face, but she didn't need to. She already knew who it was. And was not surprised that he was there.

"How did you get here?" she asked, staring at the man standing in front of her.

"That's not the actual question you want to ask," the man answered, taking several steps forward, "Ask me what you really want to know."

She pulled the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. He was right. She didn't care how he had gotten into her room. So she changed her question.

"Why did you leave? Father could have protected you. You didn't have to run."

"Did it ever cross your mind that I ran because I did exactly what they said I did. Perhaps I am guilty and I didn't want to be locked away from the rest of my life or worse, lose my head."

"Then why come back here? Why risk coming into the Capitol? You of all people should know with excruciating detail what will happen if they find you here."

There was silence, nothing moving, nothing spoke. She knew that he had the words that he wanted to say. He always did. So why wasn't he saying them.

"All these years...you and Father..."

Then the silence returned again. He didn't need to say anything else. She knew the question. She got up from her bed and walked over to the shadows. She could see the contours of face. Time had chiseled that juvenile countenance he had left with and replaced it with a more manly visage. However, it was still the same familiar face. The same familiar eyes.

"You are our blood, Brother. You share our pride and honor. We never believed. I never believed."

"Those words," he replied, "That is why I came back. I just wanted to hear someone say those words. I wanted to hear you say those words."

Words I couldn't say

I could never quite understand why it is so difficult to say your dreams out loud. Not the goals that are able speak to anyone who asks you. Those are not the ones I am talking about. And not the ones that you are keeping in the shadows, waiting to reveal when the time is right. No, I am talking about the dreams that sit at the center of your being, the very core of your heart that you are afraid to even breathe aloud to yourself. The dream that burns within and yet something holds you back from giving voice to it.

Perhaps it is just me. I was asked recently what my dreams were. I started going down the list, but then I hit one. This one. And I couldn't speak it out loud. What was it that I was afraid of? Would people think that I was pretentious to want such a thing. Was so I afraid of failure I didn't even want to acknowledge that my dream even existed in my head? Whatever the reason was, I kept my mouth shut and have yet to open it to anyone. So now I am just thinking, are there any others like me out there.

What makes a dream so daunting that you don't want to speak it? Why would anyone not want to acknowledge something they want the most in their life? I haven't figured it out yet and maybe I never will. The only think I can possibly think of doing is just to continue chasing after what I want in life, no matter if I say it out loud or not.

Work to be happy

I have always wondered why it is so hard to let go of negative things? Why do we keep things that haunt us so close to us? Why can't we just forget them? Let them stay in the past where they belong? What purpose do we have of reliving those moments over and over again?

This is something that I seem to have trouble with even now. Granted, it is not as bad as it once was. There were days when dredging up certain parts of my past would cause me to tearfully doubt my future. To curl up on my couch and question everything that I was and wonder what the point to continuing on even was. I could never understand why I constantly tortured myself by reliving all of my upsets and short comings over and over again. And I continued to do it, making myself feel worthless and low. Now when those same dark times come, they don't really last all that long. I remind myself that I made it through and I can't go back and change anything from my past anyway. I can only move forward and live life. No need to wallow in things that can't be undone.

But why is that so hard? Why does it take so long to shrug off all that past hurt and upset and move along with life? It took me a while and it took effort. It wasn't something that just happened when I woke up one morning. It was an active process for me to be okay. And it is process that is still continuing. Something that I have to make conscientious effort to make sure never to fall into again. I feel like it shouldn't take so much to forget what hurts and remember what brings joy. And yet it does.

I can't understand why I did such things to myself. All I know is that I never want to relive such a thing as that ever again. And if it takes effort on my part, then so be it.

Late Night Ramblings

It's one of those nights were I should be sleeping, but just can't seem to get there. So no time better than present to ramble on about nothing.

I'm standing right on the cusp of when my life is going to start amping up and getting insane. Seems to be quite familiar territory. Just a new brand of insanity, that's all. There are just so many things that I have to get organized and in line in order to start my LAST YEAR OF SCHOOL!!! I can't believe that I can finally say those words out loud. Man, it has been a long time in coming. I am so ready to be through.

However, these things aren't what is on the forefront of my mind. Seems like it never is. I always have my head in the clouds, thinking of other things to do that has nothing to do with my career goals at all. I have started working seriously on a script. I started piecing things together back in January. Small things mostly, like characters and world building. I drafted out the first two story arcs, just to see if this was something that would produce any stories of worth. I found out that there was something there, I just had to dig a little deeper. Recently, I have started putting together an actual script. (Just coincidence that I started during ScriptFrenzy). I wish that I could hammer out the writing at a faster pace. But that is always my wish. Right now, I just don't have to time. Well, I do, I just haven't managed my time well enough to have the time that I want.

Also, I have come to a halt where my art is concerned as well. Same problem. The time issue. Also, there are things I want to draw, but get so frustrated when I find it difficult to do. And there are points were I don't even start. I have no idea how the picture is supposed to work, so I don't even put the pencil on the paper to save myself the frustration of not being able to draw what I want. I know the only way to get better is to draw more. But I just get so upset when I can't reach the expectations that I have set for myself in my head. And my expectations just keep getting higher and higher. I am just never satisfied with any of my work any more.

And if writing and drawing weren't enough, I picked up yet something else that is time consuming. I haven't started yet, so I'm not going to go through all details. But I'm paralyzed to start. It's the whole "I have no idea how this is going to work out. What if it sucks? What if no one likes it? What if I'm terrible at this?". All the doubts rolling around in my mind for several weeks now. My sister has been pretty instrumental in trying to break down some of that. I will probably wait for the summer time before I decide on what my next steps are going to be concerning this.

So I know what a few of you are asking. Desy, where is your writing? Did you used to do a monthly article? Well, Click Here for Comics has been put on hiatus for an indefinite amount of time. While I loved nothing more than writing that article, I just didn't have the time to do it any more. And after writing it for a year, I got a bit of burnout. Will Click ever come back? I'm not going to say no, but I don't see it happening in the near future. Am I going to do another article instead? I have been toying around with the idea of one. I have playing around with some different formats and things like that. But again, time is a huge issue. Hopefully by summer time, I can be a bit more freed up and then go from there. 

So that's my life in a nutshell. Doing bits of writing, organizing things for the future, beating myself up over art again. Yep, such a lovely life that I lead.

Daily Write - Edge of the Unknown

"I always loved the view from here. It always felt like I was standing on the edge of the world, only a breadth away from the magnificent unknown that lies right beyond the horizon. Like some unseen world was just out of my fingers' reach."

Her toes inched ever closer to the edge of the rock face, winds from the sea below her buffeting her hair upwards and back.

"Lily..."

She ignored him calling out her name. Instead she closed her eyes and opened her arms, listening the sound of her sleeves billowing in the wind, like torn sails on a ship's mast.

"Did it mean anything?" she asked above the sounds of the wind, "The two of us, the time we had together, did it hold any place in your heart at all? Or was I just something to past the time?"

"I would feel much more comfortable if we talked about this standing away from there."

She didn't move. She merely leaned her head back and opened her arms even wider, as if she believed if she stood there long enough, the sea winds were whisk her away to this unknown that lay beyond the sea.

"This is the only place where I don't feel like my brain is spinning around in my skull. The only place where any part of my life makes sense any more. Even my dreams are confused now. I have no want to leave this spot."

"Lily, just come over here."

He sounded genuinely concerned. Of course he was. She was standing on the edge of  a drop that only ended in waves and rocks. Her pallid, tear stained face would go against her being of any sound mind at the moment. Again, she didn't move. She didn't want to. There was nothing more to say anyway. Just questions that would never have any answers. Well, never any answers that meant anything.

Her foot slid, like something magnetic was pulling her ever closer to the horizon before her. Maybe the wind would carry her off after all. Just as the few pebbles beneath her foot plummeted down to the white capped waves below, she felt a hand on her outstretched arms jerk her backwards. She was suddenly pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her head. There was only the sound of the wind and the waves lapping below. She could feel him shaking. Something she had not expected. Finally his voice broke the silence, nothing but a strained whisper working its way out of his throat.

"God damn you, Lily. God damn you."

Daily Write - Run and Live

Once upon a time, I dreamed of being a DM. I even put together pieces for a campaign that I wanted to try and run. But alas, that dream was never realized and those notes were just stacked in a corner with the rest of the good ideas that I have had and never actually used. So this was supposed to be meeting that the group would have early on in the campaign to get things started off.

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I had not expected to have this meeting with you quite this soon. But desperate situations have forced my hand and caused the need for me to reveal myself to you. Fates preserve us, you are still so young. Barely able to stand on your own two feet. But I suppose it cannot be helped. Things are about to happen and you need to understand what has been set in motion in order to act accordingly.

It wasn’t always like this. Times have changed and changed drastically. For many generations, this land was governed with strength and wisdom. Then the Black came from the Wastes, devouring everything in its wake. The Knights of Flame had been all but defeated by the Lotus Queen and her Deathwalkers. And as the Knights were pushed farther and farther back, the Queen only strengthened her power, exacting her will on everyone with the misfortune of being in her path.

It was the beginning of dark days. A time where hope no longer existed, being trodden upon with every defeat the Queen exacted. Her Deathwalkers destroyed everything, leaving cinders and ash where thriving communities had existed for years. The people, once proud and unbending, bowed knee to their new ruler, vowing submission and loyalty through gritted teeth.  There was no other choice. Those who opposed fled in order to not to have their tongues removed from their skulls and eyes burned out with heated pokers.  And then there were those who hid themselves in clandestine dark corners, whispering of returning the days of old.

This is where you become involved. You were raised to believe that your parents had abandoned you soon after your birth. That you had been brought to this village of Cherrywood Falls to see that you were not left to fend through life alone. As you may have pieced together by now, this was not the entire truth. The Lotus Queen’s reach had yet to extend to the Northern forests, and Cherrywood sits right in the middle of it. That is why we hid you and others like you here. Those who were born with the natural ability to bend the Weave to their will. It was the hope of the Knights that, with training, you would lead the attack against the Queen, ending her reign from this land once and for all. It was to take years, but we were willing to wait.

But that hope too has been all but been dashed to cinders. The Queen has heard of the existence of children who hold a power stronger than her own, hiding right outside of her reach. As we speak, she is sending her Deathwalkers to the forest, looking for you. Looking to destroy any trace that people like you could ever exist. Hoping to squash the uprising before it ever starts.

Now, you must leave Cherrywood, leave the Northern forest, run and hide. You cannot let these Deathwalkers find you. And above all else, you must live. The Lotus Queen cannot be defeated by anyone else but you and those who share in your ability. If you are lost, then all has been lost.