This is one of my favorite Tolkien poems, partially because it has an aurora of mystery and age to it. It's in LOTR, referring to Aragorn.
"All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king."
I found this on Wikipedia, since I didn't want to have to find it and then manually write it onto the computer. Interestingly enough, I found that there was an earlier version to it, though it isn't quite as flowing and mysterious.
"All that is gold does not glitter;
all that is long does not last;
All that is old does not wither;
not all that is over is past.
Not all that have fallen are vanquished;
a king may yet be without crown,
A blade that was broken be brandished;
and towers that were strong may fall down."
Here's another Tolkienish poem. In LOTR, Theóden says this just before they charge into the fray to break the siege around Minas Tirith.
"Arise, arise, Riders of Theoden!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!"
And there's one more of my favorites. Actually, three. The major favorite and two lesser. Guess what they are and win a gold star! ;)
--
Jake
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
The Random Thoughts of Ejaka of the Sadaar
Be warned! This is a dangerous collection of dangerous thoughts about dangerous things that is dangerously wrong. Is your head refusing to interperate the dangerouses now? Good.
THE PRICKLY FIRST SECTION
Now, this section is pure prickly. Beware.
It is about...a play on words. And wordplay. And weird excerpts.
With the the playing of the words done (what? I didn't say I'd DO wordplay; I just made the words play), I'll give you a strange excerpt from an even stranger story.
Back, long ago, long before your great-grandparents' great grandparents were born, back when dragons still roamed the earth, when people did not have guns and resorted to hacking each other to pieces with swords instead, there lived a short, bald man in a small thatch-roof cottage.
This particular man had a habit of smoking his pipe on his porch at eight o'clock sharp. He lived quite happily, except for the nuisance of the dog next door. It barked like mad every morning, always watching the smoke drift upward in a spiral. The smell, too, enticed it and drove it crazy.
Presently, at eight o'clock, the man--his name was Rilo-- sat down on his creaky old rocking chair and smoked his pipe.
"O," he said with a sigh, "Ol' Eighty. Best smoke around." Rilo was smoking it, as he considered the present day a great one indeed.
Some time back, when the honeysuckle covered every clearing in sight, he looked on
the field one day and said, "This be a fine one. The Lord has outdone himself." He marked the day, deciding to take a smoke of Ol' Eighty, his finest harvest, on that day in remembrance.
That sunshiny day was four seasons ago to the day, and Rilo had cracked open the small cask of Ol' Eighty for the first time that morn.
Rilo decided that it was his finest harvest ever.
Just then, the Dog next door began barking. "Oi! What's that smell?" he panted in Doggish. But, of course, Rilo couldn't understand Doggish, as he was a human.
The smell curled up in the Dog's nose, and he took a deep whiff. "Ah," he sighed. He stopped, his doggy mouth open in surprise. "I am speaking Humanese!" the Dog exclaimed, shaking his fur in astonishment.
Rile, too, was open-mouthed. "You a-mean that you was a Talking Dog all this time?" Rile asked.
The Dog's feelings were ruffled. "Talking Dog? Talking Dogs be the worstest Dogs there ever been! Stuck-up, just because they could make different soundses in their throats!"
Rilo was puzzled. "Then what are you, Dog?"
The Dog jumped up on the fence. "I am Sir Muffle, son of Sir Tuffle, whose grandfather fought a dragon and lived! Which he got knighted for by the Doggish Committee of Tussling."
Rilo wondered at that. "He did?"
Sir Muffle made a snorting noise. "Well... It was a baby dragon."
Rilo shrugged, and glanced at his sundial. "Tis time to break my fast. Farewell, Sir Muffle."
Sir Muffle scrabbled at the fence. "Could you share? I am hungry."
"No."
Sir Muffle whined. "Please?"
"No." Rilo's flimsy door slammed shut.
Sir Muffle, put off by Rilo's reply, curled up by the fence for a good sunbathing. After all, not only the hated Cats needed the sun.
**************
Far, far, far away, there also lived an old, strong dragon, who, incidentally, has something to do with this story.
Legend has it that when this dragon was born, he ate his eggshell, belched, and said, "More." Since then, the dragon has shown a remarkable tendency to eat everything edible, grow stronger, and hoard large quantities of gold--all admirable traits in draconic society. Also, he hasn't ever gotten a stomachache.
The cats of the known world name him 'Flame', whereas the dogs name him simply 'Eater'. Fortunately for this story, the dragons and Men alike name him much more originally; Teghaw.
Now, as it happens, on the day that old Rilo began smoking 'Ol Eighty (which was to go down in history as a historic day and marked as the beginning of the decline of dragons), Teghaw was chewing on the bone of the Patriarch of a nearby town--who managed to dig out his rusty old sword and throw it into the river before being eaten. This, however, may be too much information to the weak of heart, so let it be sufficient to say that the Patriarch died in a horribly unpleasant manner.
Presently, the great Wyrm finished his bone and went to go and lie on his bed of jewels, gold, and who else knows what. He noted, however that a gold coin and one of his favorite tiny diamonds (he had thousands of them, but he only had a dozen or so favorites) were missing and promptly flew into a towering rage.
Dragon-historians, chronologists, and general knowledgeable people all agree on the fact that the dragons know, at all times, the location of everything that belongs to them in their hoard, down to the last penny. Unfortunately, this has never been proved, as most of the brave (but obviously stupid) dracologists have been eaten.
Teghaw perceived that there was no tracks in the room and realized that the guilty thief must have been a bird, one of the annoying jackdaws most likely. So, images of death, rage, fire, and doom upon that poor, stupid jackdaw searing through Teghaw's mind, he set off to search the winds for news of his prey. Which, fortunately for the Towns nearby, and unfortunately for the dragon, eventually led to his doom.
**************
Meanwhile, Rilo was about to shoot the Dog. With a bow.
However, Rilo did not own a bow, so he let the thought go and instead shot verbal versions of the sort at the eloquent, ever-talking Sir Muffle, which had awoken from his nap.
"Shut thy trap, O Dog! Thy tongue is long as the day, and it presently grows tiresome!" Rilo waxed eloquent and kingly in his speech when in a rage worthy of a King.
Sir Muffle jumped up, setting his front paws on the fence. "Traps are bad."
Rilo very nearly screamed his frustration, and stormed into his house, violently slamming his door, where it promptly tore the hinges out of the door-frame and crashed to the deck.
A slightly muffled "Ooh..." from Sir Muffle came through the window.
Comment, if you will.
THE STINGING SECOND SECTION
This section may sting you, so if you are on a laptop that is in your lap, I'd recommend putting it on a table where it won't sting you.
I have brought to you today...a plot. Or the start of one. Feel free to steal it to make a novel/la out of it. :D
******
Single widower is at work, working late. His teenage son, who is alone at home, calls and asks him if he's coming home soon. As he's replying, a unearthly shriek sounds through the phone, and the phone line goes dead.
The man calls his son back, but instead of his son who anwers, strange words, spoken by a deep voice, greets his ear--and then hangs up. He attempts another call, but there's no answer.
The man hurries out of his work to his car--but the car is gone. No one is in sight--everyone else at the place, save for the few night-workers on the other side of the sizable building, have long since gone home.
******
THE DANGEROUS THIRD SECTION
This section is extremely dangerous. Read on at your own risk.
...Rabbits. See previous post.
--
Jake
THE PRICKLY FIRST SECTION
Now, this section is pure prickly. Beware.
It is about...a play on words. And wordplay. And weird excerpts.
With the the playing of the words done (what? I didn't say I'd DO wordplay; I just made the words play), I'll give you a strange excerpt from an even stranger story.
Back, long ago, long before your great-grandparents' great grandparents were born, back when dragons still roamed the earth, when people did not have guns and resorted to hacking each other to pieces with swords instead, there lived a short, bald man in a small thatch-roof cottage.
This particular man had a habit of smoking his pipe on his porch at eight o'clock sharp. He lived quite happily, except for the nuisance of the dog next door. It barked like mad every morning, always watching the smoke drift upward in a spiral. The smell, too, enticed it and drove it crazy.
Presently, at eight o'clock, the man--his name was Rilo-- sat down on his creaky old rocking chair and smoked his pipe.
"O," he said with a sigh, "Ol' Eighty. Best smoke around." Rilo was smoking it, as he considered the present day a great one indeed.
Some time back, when the honeysuckle covered every clearing in sight, he looked on
the field one day and said, "This be a fine one. The Lord has outdone himself." He marked the day, deciding to take a smoke of Ol' Eighty, his finest harvest, on that day in remembrance.
That sunshiny day was four seasons ago to the day, and Rilo had cracked open the small cask of Ol' Eighty for the first time that morn.
Rilo decided that it was his finest harvest ever.
Just then, the Dog next door began barking. "Oi! What's that smell?" he panted in Doggish. But, of course, Rilo couldn't understand Doggish, as he was a human.
The smell curled up in the Dog's nose, and he took a deep whiff. "Ah," he sighed. He stopped, his doggy mouth open in surprise. "I am speaking Humanese!" the Dog exclaimed, shaking his fur in astonishment.
Rile, too, was open-mouthed. "You a-mean that you was a Talking Dog all this time?" Rile asked.
The Dog's feelings were ruffled. "Talking Dog? Talking Dogs be the worstest Dogs there ever been! Stuck-up, just because they could make different soundses in their throats!"
Rilo was puzzled. "Then what are you, Dog?"
The Dog jumped up on the fence. "I am Sir Muffle, son of Sir Tuffle, whose grandfather fought a dragon and lived! Which he got knighted for by the Doggish Committee of Tussling."
Rilo wondered at that. "He did?"
Sir Muffle made a snorting noise. "Well... It was a baby dragon."
Rilo shrugged, and glanced at his sundial. "Tis time to break my fast. Farewell, Sir Muffle."
Sir Muffle scrabbled at the fence. "Could you share? I am hungry."
"No."
Sir Muffle whined. "Please?"
"No." Rilo's flimsy door slammed shut.
Sir Muffle, put off by Rilo's reply, curled up by the fence for a good sunbathing. After all, not only the hated Cats needed the sun.
**************
Far, far, far away, there also lived an old, strong dragon, who, incidentally, has something to do with this story.
Legend has it that when this dragon was born, he ate his eggshell, belched, and said, "More." Since then, the dragon has shown a remarkable tendency to eat everything edible, grow stronger, and hoard large quantities of gold--all admirable traits in draconic society. Also, he hasn't ever gotten a stomachache.
The cats of the known world name him 'Flame', whereas the dogs name him simply 'Eater'. Fortunately for this story, the dragons and Men alike name him much more originally; Teghaw.
Now, as it happens, on the day that old Rilo began smoking 'Ol Eighty (which was to go down in history as a historic day and marked as the beginning of the decline of dragons), Teghaw was chewing on the bone of the Patriarch of a nearby town--who managed to dig out his rusty old sword and throw it into the river before being eaten. This, however, may be too much information to the weak of heart, so let it be sufficient to say that the Patriarch died in a horribly unpleasant manner.
Presently, the great Wyrm finished his bone and went to go and lie on his bed of jewels, gold, and who else knows what. He noted, however that a gold coin and one of his favorite tiny diamonds (he had thousands of them, but he only had a dozen or so favorites) were missing and promptly flew into a towering rage.
Dragon-historians, chronologists, and general knowledgeable people all agree on the fact that the dragons know, at all times, the location of everything that belongs to them in their hoard, down to the last penny. Unfortunately, this has never been proved, as most of the brave (but obviously stupid) dracologists have been eaten.
Teghaw perceived that there was no tracks in the room and realized that the guilty thief must have been a bird, one of the annoying jackdaws most likely. So, images of death, rage, fire, and doom upon that poor, stupid jackdaw searing through Teghaw's mind, he set off to search the winds for news of his prey. Which, fortunately for the Towns nearby, and unfortunately for the dragon, eventually led to his doom.
**************
Meanwhile, Rilo was about to shoot the Dog. With a bow.
However, Rilo did not own a bow, so he let the thought go and instead shot verbal versions of the sort at the eloquent, ever-talking Sir Muffle, which had awoken from his nap.
"Shut thy trap, O Dog! Thy tongue is long as the day, and it presently grows tiresome!" Rilo waxed eloquent and kingly in his speech when in a rage worthy of a King.
Sir Muffle jumped up, setting his front paws on the fence. "Traps are bad."
Rilo very nearly screamed his frustration, and stormed into his house, violently slamming his door, where it promptly tore the hinges out of the door-frame and crashed to the deck.
A slightly muffled "Ooh..." from Sir Muffle came through the window.
Comment, if you will.
THE STINGING SECOND SECTION
This section may sting you, so if you are on a laptop that is in your lap, I'd recommend putting it on a table where it won't sting you.
I have brought to you today...a plot. Or the start of one. Feel free to steal it to make a novel/la out of it. :D
******
Single widower is at work, working late. His teenage son, who is alone at home, calls and asks him if he's coming home soon. As he's replying, a unearthly shriek sounds through the phone, and the phone line goes dead.
The man calls his son back, but instead of his son who anwers, strange words, spoken by a deep voice, greets his ear--and then hangs up. He attempts another call, but there's no answer.
The man hurries out of his work to his car--but the car is gone. No one is in sight--everyone else at the place, save for the few night-workers on the other side of the sizable building, have long since gone home.
******
THE DANGEROUS THIRD SECTION
This section is extremely dangerous. Read on at your own risk.
...Rabbits. See previous post.
--
Jake
Saturday, August 28, 2010
How You Know You're a Tolkien Fanatic
1. You own the Silmarillion, the Hobbit, and Lord of the Rings at least, not counting the other publications. ~(Let's see, There's Book of Lost Tales I and II, The Lays of Beleriand, the Shaping of Middle-Earth, the...)
2. You own the Extended Edition of the LOTR movies. ~"Fly, you fools!"
3. You either read or watch LOTR at least once a year. ~"Eh? You want me to take the trash out? But I'm at a good part! Galadriel, who was, incidentially, one of the Noldor, who sailed across the Sea because of Feänor, the son of the King Finwë, just gave Frodo..."
4. You are constantly quoting both the books and the movies--not to mention epic spoofs. ~"Dark have been my Teenage Writer posts of late."
5. You puzzle over the LOTR Appendices. ~"Was it Arvedui who was the last King of Arthedain, or did Arthedain end before then, destroyed by the Witch-King of Angmar? I can't remember."
6. You have looked into learning Quenya. ~"Wait--consonants written twice are pronounced long??"
7. You try to get your siblings to read the books--or at least watch the movies. ~"What do you mean you want to learn Quenya with me? You haven't even read the books!"
8. You try to speak 'Tolkienish' every once and a while. ~"Lo! I cometh out of the Far West to taketh out the trash."
9. Your parents tease you about your fanaticism. ~"You know what the first sign of a Lord of the Rings fanatic is? You use L-O-T-R instead of Lord of the Rings."
10. You compare awesome things to Tolkien. ~"Wow, Mom, if J. R. R. Tolkien cooked ham, it would've tasted just like that!"
Hoped you enjoyed this little list I cooked up. XD That last quote was my Dad's.
--
Jake
2. You own the Extended Edition of the LOTR movies. ~"Fly, you fools!"
3. You either read or watch LOTR at least once a year. ~"Eh? You want me to take the trash out? But I'm at a good part! Galadriel, who was, incidentially, one of the Noldor, who sailed across the Sea because of Feänor, the son of the King Finwë, just gave Frodo..."
4. You are constantly quoting both the books and the movies--not to mention epic spoofs. ~"Dark have been my Teenage Writer posts of late."
5. You puzzle over the LOTR Appendices. ~"Was it Arvedui who was the last King of Arthedain, or did Arthedain end before then, destroyed by the Witch-King of Angmar? I can't remember."
6. You have looked into learning Quenya. ~"Wait--consonants written twice are pronounced long??"
7. You try to get your siblings to read the books--or at least watch the movies. ~"What do you mean you want to learn Quenya with me? You haven't even read the books!"
8. You try to speak 'Tolkienish' every once and a while. ~"Lo! I cometh out of the Far West to taketh out the trash."
9. Your parents tease you about your fanaticism. ~"You know what the first sign of a Lord of the Rings fanatic is? You use L-O-T-R instead of Lord of the Rings."
10. You compare awesome things to Tolkien. ~"Wow, Mom, if J. R. R. Tolkien cooked ham, it would've tasted just like that!"
Hoped you enjoyed this little list I cooked up. XD That last quote was my Dad's.
--
Jake
The Terrible Challenge of...Rabbits
Recently the rabbits in my backyard have challenged me to a duel, which I politely and firmly refused. After all, rabbits are some of the most dangerous beings that walk...er, hop, on this earth. They insulted me, but I am no King Eärnil... but these are worse than any Ringwraith.
"You'd be surprised at how many [people] die from mad rabbits these days" ~Angela the Herbalist in Brisingr by Christopher Paolini. (may be slightly paraphrased)
To quote various SPAM pop-up windows, "THIS IS NOT A JOKE", only, you aren't the 1,000,000,000th visitor to this site; you are about to be WARNED.
There are various kinds of killer rabbits.
-The 'Hoppers'--these are the kinds you often find in your backyard. Dangerous--run on sight. Or find a killer Chihuahua.
-The Alice Rabbits--only slightly dangerous. They may throw glass at you, or hit you with a book.
-The Monty Python Rabbits--if you see one of these, you're dead already. If you hear a rumor that one is nearby, move to Mexico.
In fact, it is probably best to live on a houseboat--but you must look out for killer rabbitfish.
However, if you wish to be extremely stupidly brave, here are some ways and weaknesses around killer rabbits.
1)
Watch out for their teeth and talons
Two of their weapons most deadly are the teeth and the talons. If they get close enough, they'll spring at you and gash you until you fall to the ground...and then...Never mind.
2)
Don't let them...
...lull you into a sense that they aren't dangerous...'cause they're so CUTE! Aww.... Oh, yeah. Back to topic.
3)
Their Most Deadly Weapon...
...is their breath. Men call it the Breath of Death (how poetic!), while deer call it the Carnivorous Vapors of Doom, and dogs call it the Dangerousbreathlikepoisonthatwillkillyou. Me, however? I call it... rabbit breath.
So you're trying to 'slay the rabbit'? Forget about it, and go home. Write a blog post or something... just stay away from rabbits.
--
Jake
"You'd be surprised at how many [people] die from mad rabbits these days" ~Angela the Herbalist in Brisingr by Christopher Paolini. (may be slightly paraphrased)
To quote various SPAM pop-up windows, "THIS IS NOT A JOKE", only, you aren't the 1,000,000,000th visitor to this site; you are about to be WARNED.
There are various kinds of killer rabbits.
-The 'Hoppers'--these are the kinds you often find in your backyard. Dangerous--run on sight. Or find a killer Chihuahua.
-The Alice Rabbits--only slightly dangerous. They may throw glass at you, or hit you with a book.
-The Monty Python Rabbits--if you see one of these, you're dead already. If you hear a rumor that one is nearby, move to Mexico.
In fact, it is probably best to live on a houseboat--but you must look out for killer rabbitfish.
However, if you wish to be extremely stupidly brave, here are some ways and weaknesses around killer rabbits.
1)
Watch out for their teeth and talons
Two of their weapons most deadly are the teeth and the talons. If they get close enough, they'll spring at you and gash you until you fall to the ground...and then...Never mind.
2)
Don't let them...
...lull you into a sense that they aren't dangerous...'cause they're so CUTE! Aww.... Oh, yeah. Back to topic.
3)
Their Most Deadly Weapon...
...is their breath. Men call it the Breath of Death (how poetic!), while deer call it the Carnivorous Vapors of Doom, and dogs call it the Dangerousbreathlikepoisonthatwillkillyou. Me, however? I call it... rabbit breath.
So you're trying to 'slay the rabbit'? Forget about it, and go home. Write a blog post or something... just stay away from rabbits.
--
Jake
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Cool Weather and the Fickleness of Kansas Weather
Well, what I can say is that Kansas weather is fickle.
Four days ago, I think it was, the weather turned rainy. And the next three days turned out to be cool and nice with a damp breeze. Wonderful.
Normally, for August Kansas, the temp is up in the 90s, if not the 100s, all month. This is almost unheard of!
Hopefully this means a good long winter--I love winter. No snow days for homeschoolers, but I love it just the same.
And the best part? I woke up this morning...cold.
--
Jake
Four days ago, I think it was, the weather turned rainy. And the next three days turned out to be cool and nice with a damp breeze. Wonderful.
Normally, for August Kansas, the temp is up in the 90s, if not the 100s, all month. This is almost unheard of!
Hopefully this means a good long winter--I love winter. No snow days for homeschoolers, but I love it just the same.
And the best part? I woke up this morning...cold.
--
Jake
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The One Year Adventure Novel--Expansion?!
Sorry to bother you again, but my fingers are trembling with excitement and I just have write this.
This just in! OYAN (One Year Adventure Novel) has come out with an expansion from the regular OYAN cirriculum--but it's completely focused on fantasy and sci-fi, something that was left out in the normal cirriculum. I have a great respect for the writing prowess of Daniel Schwabauer, OYAN's maker, and this such news to me that I just HAVE to blog about it.
So there it is! OYAN has gone fantasy. Hurray! I hope to get it ASAP... though I may have to wait until next year to do it. :)
With great excitement and fervor;
--
Jake
This just in! OYAN (One Year Adventure Novel) has come out with an expansion from the regular OYAN cirriculum--but it's completely focused on fantasy and sci-fi, something that was left out in the normal cirriculum. I have a great respect for the writing prowess of Daniel Schwabauer, OYAN's maker, and this such news to me that I just HAVE to blog about it.
So there it is! OYAN has gone fantasy. Hurray! I hope to get it ASAP... though I may have to wait until next year to do it. :)
With great excitement and fervor;
--
Jake
A Lay...?
[Before this post starts, I must apologize for my long absence--so... Sorry! :D]
I am rather tired today. School has sucked the life out of me... But the writing curriculum has gone swimmingly. OYAN is officially my favorite writing curriculum...and my only writing curriculum. :D But I'm doing two lessons or more a day, and I can't believe it counts as schoolwork. :)
I can't think of anything more to say, so I will leave you with this part of a lay I am writing. With one confession--my inspiration comes from Tolkien. I love his poems. :)
Tell me what you think of it in the comments section! Does it make you chilly? Intriuged? Does it make you shiver? Does it make you wish that you could read more? Does it make you hungry? Go ahead and tell me what you think. :)
Midnight shrouds the City in sleep,
Choking from Moons their light,
Beneath their gaze in pathways deep,
A dark-cloaked man takes flight.
Through alley and across street,
Under sign and over walk,
The sinister man goes to meet,
Goes to meet a man to talk.
Five men of shadow come forth
Dark-clothed in the deeds they do,
Discarded all deeds of worth,
Hatred and bitterness inflamed anew.
The light of the moon flickers out,
As the men make their way back,
Not a whisper, not a shout,
Resists their silent attack.
Into the silent courtyard they enter,
Not delayed by drugged guard,
They whisper their way to the center,
Into the palace and out of the yard.
The fate of a King is wrought,
In that darkening, shadowed night,
The silent battle of wills is fought,
But the King is gone despite.
Clang! Sounds the bell,
The alarms loudly ring,
But it is too late, this night so fell,
They have taken the King.
--
Jake
I am rather tired today. School has sucked the life out of me... But the writing curriculum has gone swimmingly. OYAN is officially my favorite writing curriculum...and my only writing curriculum. :D But I'm doing two lessons or more a day, and I can't believe it counts as schoolwork. :)
I can't think of anything more to say, so I will leave you with this part of a lay I am writing. With one confession--my inspiration comes from Tolkien. I love his poems. :)
Tell me what you think of it in the comments section! Does it make you chilly? Intriuged? Does it make you shiver? Does it make you wish that you could read more? Does it make you hungry? Go ahead and tell me what you think. :)
Midnight shrouds the City in sleep,
Choking from Moons their light,
Beneath their gaze in pathways deep,
A dark-cloaked man takes flight.
Through alley and across street,
Under sign and over walk,
The sinister man goes to meet,
Goes to meet a man to talk.
Five men of shadow come forth
Dark-clothed in the deeds they do,
Discarded all deeds of worth,
Hatred and bitterness inflamed anew.
The light of the moon flickers out,
As the men make their way back,
Not a whisper, not a shout,
Resists their silent attack.
Into the silent courtyard they enter,
Not delayed by drugged guard,
They whisper their way to the center,
Into the palace and out of the yard.
The fate of a King is wrought,
In that darkening, shadowed night,
The silent battle of wills is fought,
But the King is gone despite.
Clang! Sounds the bell,
The alarms loudly ring,
But it is too late, this night so fell,
They have taken the King.
--
Jake
Sunday, August 8, 2010
I Write Like J. R. R. Tolkien?
Well, this handy little device that analyzes one's writing and compares it to a famous author's told me a wrote most like J. R. R. Tolkien. Before, actually, with a different (and much older) piece, it told me I wrote like Frank L. Baum, but I submitted a newer piece and recieved that answer. :) So here's the official blogging thingy;
I don't know how accurate this is, but it made my day. :)
--
Jake
I don't know how accurate this is, but it made my day. :)
--
Jake
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
30,000 Words!!
Woot! I surpassed 30,000 words today on Quest for the Kingdom, my first novel! I did this while editing, and so, to celebrate, perhaps I should post an excerpt. :)
Unfortunately, I cannot post from Quest for the Kingdom, unless I did a wee bit from my prologue. So I'll put up a poll--and it's about posting an excerpt. Go ahead and vote if you want to see some more from my novel! :)
Signing out,
--
Jake
Unfortunately, I cannot post from Quest for the Kingdom, unless I did a wee bit from my prologue. So I'll put up a poll--and it's about posting an excerpt. Go ahead and vote if you want to see some more from my novel! :)
Signing out,
--
Jake
Friday, July 30, 2010
The Return of Gandosky!
It all started on a Dark and Stormy Night....
Unfortunately, I am switching the subject and turning instead to a different one--theology. :D
I have been recently reading C. S. Lewis, and I am impressed at the way he reasons and gives his opinions. I read the Screwtape Letters to begin with, and I would recommend it to anyone.
For instance, in one part, Screwtape is describing how to get a Christian to have problems with church. He explains to Wormwood (his nephew demon) how to make a Christian be dissatisfied with the church he/she is in, how to get him/her fussy about the little details and such. I was struck at how this still happens today. Everyone looks for 'the right church'--but is that right? To an extent, perhaps. I wouldn't go to a Catholic church every week for Mass because I don't agree with many of they're principles, but I shouldn't skip out of a church because I don't like the way the worship pastor sings.
So that's my two cents for today, folks. :)
See ya later--and check out the Screwtape Letters. They're worth it. :)
--
Jake
Unfortunately, I am switching the subject and turning instead to a different one--theology. :D
I have been recently reading C. S. Lewis, and I am impressed at the way he reasons and gives his opinions. I read the Screwtape Letters to begin with, and I would recommend it to anyone.
For instance, in one part, Screwtape is describing how to get a Christian to have problems with church. He explains to Wormwood (his nephew demon) how to make a Christian be dissatisfied with the church he/she is in, how to get him/her fussy about the little details and such. I was struck at how this still happens today. Everyone looks for 'the right church'--but is that right? To an extent, perhaps. I wouldn't go to a Catholic church every week for Mass because I don't agree with many of they're principles, but I shouldn't skip out of a church because I don't like the way the worship pastor sings.
So that's my two cents for today, folks. :)
See ya later--and check out the Screwtape Letters. They're worth it. :)
--
Jake
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Poems
Lately, I have taken I liking to poems. Not reading them (though a good poem can be nice at times), but writing them. Here's a sample of the poems swirling 'round this mind of mine.
Deep and dark,
The Shadow dwelt,
In the dust and in the murk,
Whilst the Creature slept.
Slinking ever on,
In darkness and twilight,
Where one cannot see the dawn,
The Daske of Daraspite.
Until the Creature awakens,
And the Daske goes forth,
It stays forever there,
Somewhere in the North.
This was from the Prophecies of Shaldu, an idea I've been toying with. I've actually written out an outline for when I get around to it. But it all started with me making that first line--which had been completely random--and then going from there. The strangest things get you inspiration...
As you can see, the most of the words in that poem here don't completely rhyme with the ones they're supposed to--that's hard! When I'm feeling particularly un-rhyme-able, I either do this--rhyme only partially--or I only rhyme two lines out of four, like this;
Rhyme
Doesn't rhyme
Rhyme
Doesn't rhyme
And sometimes, when I'm feeling inspired, I rhyme perfectly--and it's always one of those 'rousing' songs.
Strength with humility, love without fail,
The force from who Ellos' enemies quail.
In the face of that evil, danger pale,
They are standing strong, faces hale.
That one was an excerpt from my short poem (one of my favorites) The Elves of the Underground. As you can see, it rhymed fairly well and had a good rhythm. That's why it's one of my favorites.
Now, back to business.
Why should you care about this? Well, if I managed to drag you through the first part of this, perhaps I'll get your attention now.
There were two main reasons why I started poem-ing.
1) It was fun. Really, you should try it. Making random poems is a lot more fun than one would think. And if it has to do with food, then, well, that's great. :) Double score, y'know. :D
2) I was kinda hoping to get some of this into my writing. I admire Jeffrey Overstreet's writing a lot, especially because of one thing; his writing had a kind of epic poetic flair and flavor to it. The description, though tedious at times, was breathtaking to the max. And I thought, "Well, maybe if I write some poems, I could insert that kind of flair and poetry in my writing, even if it is just a bit." I'm not sure that worked, but I'm glad I started poem-ing.
And, for fun, see what kind of a poem you can make up on the spot. Really. Just post it in a comment if you wish, or keep it to yourself. Something intriguing, something exciting. And maybe, just maybe, that poem will inspire you too.
--
Jake
Thursday, July 22, 2010
THIS is What Happens When Your Creative Juices are Overflowing...
WARNING! R RATED CONTENT INSIDE!
[R is for Randomness]
This post, put quite simply, shall be a vent to my overwhelming desire to write something completely random and crazy. Normally, I'm quite sane and rational. Just see my previous post for proof. But--Oops! I can feel it taking hold of me already. 'It' meaning, of course, randomness. But as my father once told me, "No buts." I cannot remember anything beyond that, unfortunately.
So, anyway, I was admiring Lewis Carroll [is that how it is spelt?] for his creating Wonderland--because it is quite useful when making references to randomness. Why? Well, because his entire plot was random--but I'm getting off topic. :P
What? What do you mean? What's the topic? Randomness! Are you deaf? Are you blind? Are you both? Are you an illiterate rabbit? I thought, all this time, you knew I was talking of randomness. Sheesh...
Rabbits... Very interesting creatures. Referred to in 'Alice in Wonderland', you know. And that makes them interesting all in itself. But what makes it the most interesting (or them, if you prefer not being alone--or are you not a rabbit?), is that they RUN...
So, anyway, about my sister's hat. It looks like a cowboy hat--bought it in Galveston, Texas, actually--but it's quite interesting to wear. Makes you feel courageous, for some strange reasons. But, for the record, aren't all reasons strange? Aren't all reasons just a random way to explain something? Perhaps its right--perhaps it's not. And perhaps it is just hiding under the bed and waiting to jump out at you. Which reason is that, I wonder? I would think the 'right' one--truth can be painful.
Twenty dollar bills... I'm staring at one now. The moral of this story? Always say you're working for free--before you start working. Otherwise THAT happens. But I won't explain what I mean by THAT. You can read that sentence in two ways, and they both mean the same thing; I'm not telling you.
Kindles... Kindles... Kindles... Three times is the charm, but I have no idea who or what I'm charming. Bonus points? Speaking of those, bonus points to those who know what a Kindle is--without consulting Mr. Google.
Striped pillows
Jaded in green,
They looks like willows,
For they are green,
But that's the only similarity,
Unfortunately for the cow,
I'm only writing to cause hilarity,
And it ends now.
Strangeness. It just popped out of me. Hmmm.... I like writing poems, though they feel rather unwieldy at times. Just a month or so ago I claimed that I couldn't rhyme at all--it's a strange thing, now. I can rhyme like the Jabberwocky. I don't know if he can rhyme, however... I suppose I must leave now and find out.
But the thing is; the entire reason is; what I mean to say is; well, is this; I random when I reason.
Fare well.
Signing out with randomness still coursing through my veins,
--
Jake
[R is for Randomness]
This post, put quite simply, shall be a vent to my overwhelming desire to write something completely random and crazy. Normally, I'm quite sane and rational. Just see my previous post for proof. But--Oops! I can feel it taking hold of me already. 'It' meaning, of course, randomness. But as my father once told me, "No buts." I cannot remember anything beyond that, unfortunately.
So, anyway, I was admiring Lewis Carroll [is that how it is spelt?] for his creating Wonderland--because it is quite useful when making references to randomness. Why? Well, because his entire plot was random--but I'm getting off topic. :P
What? What do you mean? What's the topic? Randomness! Are you deaf? Are you blind? Are you both? Are you an illiterate rabbit? I thought, all this time, you knew I was talking of randomness. Sheesh...
Rabbits... Very interesting creatures. Referred to in 'Alice in Wonderland', you know. And that makes them interesting all in itself. But what makes it the most interesting (or them, if you prefer not being alone--or are you not a rabbit?), is that they RUN...
So, anyway, about my sister's hat. It looks like a cowboy hat--bought it in Galveston, Texas, actually--but it's quite interesting to wear. Makes you feel courageous, for some strange reasons. But, for the record, aren't all reasons strange? Aren't all reasons just a random way to explain something? Perhaps its right--perhaps it's not. And perhaps it is just hiding under the bed and waiting to jump out at you. Which reason is that, I wonder? I would think the 'right' one--truth can be painful.
Twenty dollar bills... I'm staring at one now. The moral of this story? Always say you're working for free--before you start working. Otherwise THAT happens. But I won't explain what I mean by THAT. You can read that sentence in two ways, and they both mean the same thing; I'm not telling you.
Kindles... Kindles... Kindles... Three times is the charm, but I have no idea who or what I'm charming. Bonus points? Speaking of those, bonus points to those who know what a Kindle is--without consulting Mr. Google.
Striped pillows
Jaded in green,
They looks like willows,
For they are green,
But that's the only similarity,
Unfortunately for the cow,
I'm only writing to cause hilarity,
And it ends now.
Strangeness. It just popped out of me. Hmmm.... I like writing poems, though they feel rather unwieldy at times. Just a month or so ago I claimed that I couldn't rhyme at all--it's a strange thing, now. I can rhyme like the Jabberwocky. I don't know if he can rhyme, however... I suppose I must leave now and find out.
But the thing is; the entire reason is; what I mean to say is; well, is this; I random when I reason.
Fare well.
Signing out with randomness still coursing through my veins,
--
Jake
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
What's Happening to Tolkien in Modern Day
Today, (yes, today, and even more, only an hour or so ago), one of my sisters said to my youngest sister, "Tolkien practically made up tall Elves." They were discussing LOTR. Although, to my utter dismay and disappointment, none of them have actually read it... most of them have seen the movies, however.
My youngest sister burst out and said, "Nuh-uh! He did NOT make it up!" (Her basis for this was Eragon, which she and all of my siblings had read--by my introduction. :D ) She was genuinely convinced that Tolkien, (she was the only one who hadn't seen the movies) must have stolen the idea from someone else--Paolini, perhaps.
I was surprised. Tolkien, in my opinion, was one of the most masterful fantasy writers that had ever lived. His plot; flawless. His worldmaking; unrivaled. His characters have lived on through the decades, read by many people young and old. It was one of the most epic fantasies of all time. If I ever wanted to write like anyone, it would be Tolkien.
Tolkien, with all of the new fantasy books of vampires and werewolves (or dragons, Elves and dwarves, for that matter), is slowly slipping away from the new generation. Most young writers like me, of course, are of the same mind; that J. R. R. Tolkien was one of the greatest fantasy writers ever. But other readers, especially those who read mostly secular books, are overlooking Tolkien, and dismissing him as another old-fashoned 'classic' that they might have to read in school.
Which brings me to another point; 'Classic' is a term used nowadays to describe old, dusty books no one can understand. In reality, classics, like LOTR, are the greatest books, books that have endured the scrutiny of generations. These are the ones that are unique, these are the ones that have laid the foundation of all plots, characters, and books in general. Without LOTR, there might not BE an Eragon.
So the main point of this entire post? Well, it was mostly for me to write my thoughts, but BESIDES that, it is this;
Remember Tolkien.
--
Jake
My youngest sister burst out and said, "Nuh-uh! He did NOT make it up!" (Her basis for this was Eragon, which she and all of my siblings had read--by my introduction. :D ) She was genuinely convinced that Tolkien, (she was the only one who hadn't seen the movies) must have stolen the idea from someone else--Paolini, perhaps.
I was surprised. Tolkien, in my opinion, was one of the most masterful fantasy writers that had ever lived. His plot; flawless. His worldmaking; unrivaled. His characters have lived on through the decades, read by many people young and old. It was one of the most epic fantasies of all time. If I ever wanted to write like anyone, it would be Tolkien.
Tolkien, with all of the new fantasy books of vampires and werewolves (or dragons, Elves and dwarves, for that matter), is slowly slipping away from the new generation. Most young writers like me, of course, are of the same mind; that J. R. R. Tolkien was one of the greatest fantasy writers ever. But other readers, especially those who read mostly secular books, are overlooking Tolkien, and dismissing him as another old-fashoned 'classic' that they might have to read in school.
Which brings me to another point; 'Classic' is a term used nowadays to describe old, dusty books no one can understand. In reality, classics, like LOTR, are the greatest books, books that have endured the scrutiny of generations. These are the ones that are unique, these are the ones that have laid the foundation of all plots, characters, and books in general. Without LOTR, there might not BE an Eragon.
So the main point of this entire post? Well, it was mostly for me to write my thoughts, but BESIDES that, it is this;
Remember Tolkien.
--
Jake
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Why Everything is Random...Or Not
NOTE; I owe the inspiration of this post to Squeaks's RANDOMNESS RULES! post. Thanks, Squeaks!
There are five reasons why everything is random--after all, lists are the BOMB when it comes to conducting a polite debate--though they are not the nuke, though I haven't the slightest idea WHY they aren't a nuke. I don't even know what the nuke is--not the nuke itself, but what the nuke IS--that is, in the same way something's the BOMB, something else is the NUKE--though I don't know what it is.
1) Most people claim nothing is random--I'll explain this later, if I get to a later. But after all, what is a later? It would come sooner if it wasn't a later, and what most people call a later never comes, so technically it's a 'never'. But I'll get to this sooner, so I'll get to it eventually, which, despite what anyone says, is NOT synonous to 'later'. It's sometime, not never. If it were never, it wouldn't exist, and it WILL exist--eventually.
2) Thousand Foot Krutch is an awesome band. Why is this saying everything is random? I'll tell you--no waiting until later... er, sooner.
By saying TFK is awesome, I am being random, therefore enforcing my idea that everything is random. After all, TFK IS awesome (and I could say that anytime), and saying it anytime I wish is what most people call 'random'. What's that you say? What do you mean that doesn't prove everything is random? I guess I'll have to go on to the next point, then....
3) Randomness is random... just because. Also, turkeys. Er, make that chickens. No, change it all to mashed potatoes with Cheez-Its on top.
4) Insults are random. Proved. If someone calls you a cakesniffer (bonus points to the one who can guess what book that's from!), you may reply "Drink nibbler!" which, of course, by the Rules of Randomness (I haven't the slightest idea what they are--they're kind of like the 'invisible line' concept), is completely, absolutely, and undoubtedly Random.
5) My strongest point; Everything is random. You see, everything is random. You may say, "That's preposterous!" but I insist.
Take, for example, the greeting 'hello'. You go up to someone, perhaps someone you know, perhaps you don't, or perhaps a rabbit with a white tie and holding a cup of green spice tea that hasn't been brewed yet, and say, "Hello." Depending on the instance, you may even introduce yourself. But isn't that random? Think about it for a moment, will you. When you say hello, you are, in fact, being random. And that's how most conversations start!
But say you are on the recieving end. Perhaps you are relative, a stranger, or perhaps you are a rabbit with a white tie holding a cup of green spice tea that hasn't been brewed yet, and the person comes to you and says hello. By saying something back like, "Hello," or "How do you do?" or running like a rabbit (for everyone knows that rabbits cannot talk--unless, of course, rabbits CAN talk--and even if they do, there's a good chance they'll run anyway instead of striking up a sociable conversation), you are continuing the random thing, therefore making it a random thread, instead of random thing. Unless, of course, you believe that threads aren't random--but if it's a random thread, then it MUST be random, and since, using the reasoning I said earlier, all threads are random, then that means you must be wrong.
But wait... Turkeys are not random! Since they are usually associated with Randomness, they cannot be random! This makes my reasoning null and void! Everything cannot be random now since TURKEYS ARE NOT RANDOM! Awwwww....
Show's over, folks. Go back to bed, back to a different blog, back to home, or back to your rabbit hole--which ever you prefer. Just don't fall down your rabbit hole, or you may end up in Wonderland.
--
Jake
There are five reasons why everything is random--after all, lists are the BOMB when it comes to conducting a polite debate--though they are not the nuke, though I haven't the slightest idea WHY they aren't a nuke. I don't even know what the nuke is--not the nuke itself, but what the nuke IS--that is, in the same way something's the BOMB, something else is the NUKE--though I don't know what it is.
1) Most people claim nothing is random--I'll explain this later, if I get to a later. But after all, what is a later? It would come sooner if it wasn't a later, and what most people call a later never comes, so technically it's a 'never'. But I'll get to this sooner, so I'll get to it eventually, which, despite what anyone says, is NOT synonous to 'later'. It's sometime, not never. If it were never, it wouldn't exist, and it WILL exist--eventually.
2) Thousand Foot Krutch is an awesome band. Why is this saying everything is random? I'll tell you--no waiting until later... er, sooner.
By saying TFK is awesome, I am being random, therefore enforcing my idea that everything is random. After all, TFK IS awesome (and I could say that anytime), and saying it anytime I wish is what most people call 'random'. What's that you say? What do you mean that doesn't prove everything is random? I guess I'll have to go on to the next point, then....
3) Randomness is random... just because. Also, turkeys. Er, make that chickens. No, change it all to mashed potatoes with Cheez-Its on top.
4) Insults are random. Proved. If someone calls you a cakesniffer (bonus points to the one who can guess what book that's from!), you may reply "Drink nibbler!" which, of course, by the Rules of Randomness (I haven't the slightest idea what they are--they're kind of like the 'invisible line' concept), is completely, absolutely, and undoubtedly Random.
5) My strongest point; Everything is random. You see, everything is random. You may say, "That's preposterous!" but I insist.
Take, for example, the greeting 'hello'. You go up to someone, perhaps someone you know, perhaps you don't, or perhaps a rabbit with a white tie and holding a cup of green spice tea that hasn't been brewed yet, and say, "Hello." Depending on the instance, you may even introduce yourself. But isn't that random? Think about it for a moment, will you. When you say hello, you are, in fact, being random. And that's how most conversations start!
But say you are on the recieving end. Perhaps you are relative, a stranger, or perhaps you are a rabbit with a white tie holding a cup of green spice tea that hasn't been brewed yet, and the person comes to you and says hello. By saying something back like, "Hello," or "How do you do?" or running like a rabbit (for everyone knows that rabbits cannot talk--unless, of course, rabbits CAN talk--and even if they do, there's a good chance they'll run anyway instead of striking up a sociable conversation), you are continuing the random thing, therefore making it a random thread, instead of random thing. Unless, of course, you believe that threads aren't random--but if it's a random thread, then it MUST be random, and since, using the reasoning I said earlier, all threads are random, then that means you must be wrong.
But wait... Turkeys are not random! Since they are usually associated with Randomness, they cannot be random! This makes my reasoning null and void! Everything cannot be random now since TURKEYS ARE NOT RANDOM! Awwwww....
Show's over, folks. Go back to bed, back to a different blog, back to home, or back to your rabbit hole--which ever you prefer. Just don't fall down your rabbit hole, or you may end up in Wonderland.
--
Jake
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Tornado?
You decide. Was it a little freak F0 tornado, or just the wind?
We had a fun bit of storms a couple of days ago, with winds at 60 MPH gusts and heavy rain.
We wake up the next morning and find that the neighborhood around us looks a bit different, remarkably like a very minor tornado path. See the pictures below.
The bigger road near our neighborhood. There was a couple branches down, so they piled them by the side of the road.
This is only a couple houses down from us... Plenty of fallen branches, as you can see.
We had a fun bit of storms a couple of days ago, with winds at 60 MPH gusts and heavy rain.
We wake up the next morning and find that the neighborhood around us looks a bit different, remarkably like a very minor tornado path. See the pictures below.
The bigger road near our neighborhood. There was a couple branches down, so they piled them by the side of the road.
Then when we turn down our street, about two blocks from our house, I see a greater amount of branches (you have to look pretty close to see the branches in this picture).
Here you can see a greater amount of fallen branches by the road close to our house.
This picture (above) is a block from our house. Wind? I'm starting to doubt.
This is only a couple houses down from us... Plenty of fallen branches, as you can see.
And here's the last one. If you look closely, you can see the big branch from the tree had been ripped off.
If you go a block either way, the lawn, trees, and everything look clean and pristine, if a little wet.
Coincidence? I don't think so. :D Looks like a tornado path to me.
So now I get to say I went through a small tornado. And my house didn't have ANY fallen branches, just a couple armfuls of sticks. How's that for a good story?
Jake
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