Am I Supposed to Blog? Oops.

You can award me the "blogger who blogs the most" award. Yup, that's me.

Sarcasm.

It's been a fortnight since I've posted on here. That's a while, isn't it? Days kind of blend together in the summertime. Let's see, what's happened since I last blogged? I feel a list coming on.

- I've finished my outline for my next novel, codenamed Tornado C. Huzzah! Writing begins soon! I haven't written in any novels since November. I've done tons of revisions and completed five long short stories, but I haven't done any actual novel-writing for quite a while!

- On a whim, I've started yet another short story. It's a half-allegory-half-mystical fantasy that's going to be pretty cool. I've written a thousand words in it so far. :) The title? "The Flame That Does Not Burn". I'm focusing a lot on theme this time around. I mean, more than usual.

- I've read some books, but less than usual, since I've felt rather sick recently. DragonLight by Donita K. Paul is one, I've also read through several of the Epistles; right now I'm rereading Raising Dragons. I only have the first two books in Dragons In Our Midst, though. O_o

- I've listened to a lot of TFK and some other artists as well. My favorite songs keep changing. Right now, my favorites are Monster (Skillet), Break The Silence (Thousand Foot Krutch), Down (Thousand Foot Krutch), and We Are (Thousand Foot Krutch). They'll probably be different tomorrow. :P Down is a consistent favorite, though. I love that song.

- We have four cats and three dogs. They eat a lot of food. And now that the three kittens are growing up, I have to change out the litter box a lot more, or they "go" underneath my bed. In those times, I have to sleep while breathing through my mouth. And since it's been raining, the sand is wet and holds odor very well. Continuing on the subject of rain (and steering it away from cat litter):

- It's been raining. A lot. Our local lagoon has filled up and drained itself out once already in the past week, and it takes a lot of water to fill it up. (When the lagoon drains out, the local people turn out to go tramping down in the mud and fish in what little water is left.) Also, there's a live crab in one of our water bins. What puzzles me is how it got in there, because the steel bin is three feet high and sheer. Then I thought we ought to have a crab farm in the water bin, but I'm not sure if our crabs are edible...

- My sister (Vrenith) entered an dragon art contest the other day. Her division (fifteen and under) only has seven entries, so the proud brother I am says, "She's SO going to win!" I'd give a link, but I write my blog posts offline.

- My other sister ("Manny") also entered a contest, with me; Bryan Davis was holding a contest in which the entrants would take a picture of themselves and one of his Dragons of Starlight books. His three favorites would win an ARC of Liberator, the last of the series. (ARC means Advanced Reader Copy. That means we get it before it comes out officially!) Turns out that he decided to give an ARC to each entrant, so we got a copy. He sent it to my grandparents. Speaking of which:

- My grandparents are coming to visit in TWO WEEKS. GAAH! So excited! And they're bringing the Liberator ARC. (:

Now that I've subdued you with the Dreaded List, I will now subject you to more horrifying poetry. ;) It's in the same sort of style as "Rising Up" but I don't like the verses quite as much. I really like the chorus, though. :)

--

Hold Onto The King

It thunders outside, echoing the inside of his mind

He's putting pen to paper, knowing that he'll find

There's a way to do it, a path already traced

But now he sees it's the most difficult he's faced.

Because in his ears are the jeers

Of those who might speak

And in his tears all the fears

Of his failures peak

But he has one more thing

In the pain and the rain

Hope lends him a wing

He holds onto the King.

You wouldn't tell by the face, but he's scared inside

Because they'll tear it apart and they won't let it slide

Sometimes like this it's hard to do the right thing

But when you're facing the "saint", it's even harder to sing.

Because in his ears are the jeers

Of those who might speak

And in his tears all the fears

Of his failures peak

But he has one more thing

In the pain and the rain

Hope lends him a wing

He holds onto the King.

He can see the words they'll say, blowing in the air

He looks out the window, pain in his stare

Will he write it? Can he do it? Or will he fail?

Will he be able to follow a divinely appointed trail?

Because in his ears are the jeers

Of those who might speak

And in his tears all the fears

Of his failures peak

But he has one more thing

In the pain and the rain

Hope lends him a wing

He holds onto the King.

He decides, hope collides

With fear, and wins

He will try and he will die

The world, it spins

There was nothing, hope is rushing

Into us, it does

Make the best and the rest

Is up to us, because:

Though in your ears are the jeers

Of those who might speak

And through your tears you'll find your fears

Are gone for the week

Now you have one more thing

Through the pain and the rain

Hope will lend you a wing

You must hold onto the King.

--

I don't think I quite accomplished anything in this blog post. O_o What's happened in your week, readers? I'm sure it's been considerably more interesting than mine. ^_^ I wonder if the life of another person is more interesting simply because it's not YOUR life. Hm. I'm going to have to ponder that one...

--

Jake

The Adventure of the Ordinary

I love the Narnia movies. They're awesome, and I really hope that they come out with more. The depth of meaning found in them, despite secular production, is fantastic.

However, one thing has always bothered me. In the Voyage of the Dawn Treader (my least favorite of the three movies), Reepicheep says something that's intended to be comforting and meaningful. "Extraordinary things only happen to extraordinary people," or something to that effect.

Not only do screenwriters often butcher the PLOT of books, this one evidently didn't know the author's philosophy as well. The very thing that makes Narnia so wonderful is that it can't happen. It's not ordinary. But if an extraordinary thing happens to an extraordinary person, is it so extraordinary after all?

G. K. Chesterton says this on the subject:

"Oddities do not strike odd people. This is why ordinary people have a much more exciting time; while odd people are always complaining of the dulness of life.

"This is also why the new novels die so quickly, and why the old fairy tales endure for ever. The old fairy tale makes the hero a normal human boy; it is his adventures that are startling; they startle him because he is normal. But in the modern psychological novel the hero is abnormal; the centre is not central.

"Hence fiercest adventures fail to affect him adequately, and the book is monotonous. You can make a story out of a hero among dragons; but not out of a dragon among dragons. The fairy tale discusses what a sane man will do in a mad world. The sober realistic novel of to-day discusses what an essential lunatic will do in a dull world."

Being ordinary is the greatest adventure of all, so to speak. If we are ordinary, everything not like us—not normal—must be extraordinary. And that makes life a lot more interesting, now doesn't it?

Rising Up: A Poem

So I haven't posted on here in a long time. And that's entirely my fault. To tell you the truth, there hasn't been much to post about. With summer here, writing is taking precedence; and writing posts go to Teenage Writer. But the proud, the few, still follow this blog, eh?

Guess what? I'm going to subject you to a horrible bit of poetry. Happy birthday.

However, the poem is a rather serious and heartfelt one. In it, I ventured, through a series of words and vibrant pictures, to help the reader feel what I mean, rather than tell them. Thus, I wrote it in sloppy rhyme-and-meter. To get the best results, you can read the poem aloud in a fast manner.

--

Rising Up

I open my eyes, take a look around

Hearing not a rustle, hearing not a sound

I used to see in grey, but now—but now

I can see! is it not so? listen how

I found in surrender I was strong

I found submission in my song

Because really, is silence better than sound?

Open your eyes, take a look around.

Blinding, I'm finding

The euphoria is rising

It's crazy, hazy

But colorful as lightning

Can you hear it?

Can you see it?

It comes from within

The liquid burns

My heart churns

But I'm rising again.

Don't listen to the voices coming in the night

They're telling you to quit, that everything's all right

Don't be content with the way things are

They don't worry about the future 'cause they can't see that far

They say to look away and always leave it be

But what they don't realize is that these chains are breaking free

We can't quit, never, because nothing's ever right

Don't listen to the voices that are coming in the night.

It's blazing, and crazing

The flames are burning hot

It's calling, I'm falling

But more often than not

I hear it

I see it

It's coming from within

The flame burns

My soul yearns

Rising up again.

We'll never be content, we'll always be the rebel

We're warriors on enemy grounds, fighting off the devil

But rising up, it's burning out, it can never rest

The spirit of eternity and spirit of the blest

Don't wait for it, run, run until you faint

To victory is running the ever-burning saint

Wake up, don't sleep, 'cause here comes the devil

Never be content with sin, always be the rebel.

It's pouring rain, insane

Never let it stop

It's calling, I'm crawling

I'll make it to the top

I'll never sleep

And though I weep

It's coming from within

My passion burns

My spirit yearns

And I will rise again.

My passion burns

My spirit yearns

I'm rising up again.

--

Do you feel what I meant to say? What does the poem tell you?

And what do you think I ought to post about on this poor blog? *glances at the dusty, forlorn thing fondly*

--

Jake