Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Am I Supposed to Blog? Oops.

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


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...


Saturday, June 16, 2012

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?

Thursday, June 7, 2012

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*