ermagersh firefly

I finished Firefly and the sequel movie Serenity. It was so beautiful. As I posted on Tumblr, Serenity was hellish perfection. If you've seen it, FANGIRL WITH ME. If you haven't - it's on Netflix and I highly recommend it. There are a few scenes that have, you know, mature content, but in general the series is really worth watching. It is so lively and real, filled with absolutely vibrant characters, gripping plots, heart-shredding tragedy and a real uplifting inspiration - the themes of nomadic freedom and having a code of honour and doing better than people think you will and survival and perseverance and  finding your way in the 'verse. Good stuff.

Also, MERRY CHRISTMAS. In celebration of happiness and creys, I give you Wash spam, consisting of gifs that I don't own. (for those of you that haven't seen Firefly/Serenity, Wash is a very loveable comedic relief type character. Usually I'm not that fond of these characters, but I just attached to Wash. He's got integrity and his relationship with his wife is adorable and - I hardly even know why I'm so fond of him. I just am.)

how i feel when sticking my head outside the window. maybe i just need to get out more often

Nights like this, you feel the earth's potential, the fact that outside your little bubble of comfy backyards there is a swarm of people who all have different worldviews and situations. Sonder is the word, I think, and it means that somewhere opposite of where you are, on a little backstreet in a quiet brick and stone English village next to a florists' down a little lane there is a house with willow trees choking it up and an old lady lives there with her passionate nostalgia and  it's a little muddy misty lane and the windows are fogged up 

and somewhere else in a teeny apartment a woman with cheap jewellery who has never really known a really comfortable life like yours, whose little bubble world is not inclusive of hours of pleasurable internet browsing, who only knows love as an abuse, lives - reading, reading is her pleasure, her passion, with crossed legs on a little couch and the apartment is the kind that you don't think smells very good when you walk in and the curtains are out of date and her whole world is trying to make her struggle worth it without even knowing it and she's in dull pain but she just loves to read and she sits with her back against orange  patterned curtains in front of a little boxy tv and waits for someone she doesn't really like to come home and makes pasta with one hand on a book

and somewhere else there's a really cold flat desert and what actually is a television? and life is lighting fire in the cold and she is human too, just as human as you but her world is a different planet earth and she is not someone who should be worried about social issues; she is a social issue, but she's happy getting an iron pail up from the well with frozen fingers and her jokes are simple and she shares a tent with her brothers and they tell ghost stories about wolves while buried under rugs and she exists outside your planet earth.

and there is a beautiful woman in london with a short skirt walking up the midnight street from Harrod's with shopping bags, chatting on a cellphone, red lipstick flashing in the city lights and she soaks in the joy of being  alive while the cars rush around her and busses  cough smoke and architecture is smogged and little does she know later on in the evening her boyfriend will pull out a diamond ring in an indian food restaurant with puppets on the ceiling and she will say yes and they'll kiss on the top level of an empty red bus as it heads home and

there are lots of lives and none of them has anything to do with yours.

HEY GUYS I'M NOT DEAD

So, a few minutes ago, I was all, "You know what would be cool? If i kept a journal online where people could read it if they felt like it. Because I journal a lot and I almost want to share it."

and then i thought

THERE IS THAT BLOG YOU ABANDONED IN THE SUMMER MY FRIEND

there is that blog.

You will have noticed some things. Like, I haven't been around for months, there's that. This is because I got a blog on another blogging platform (Tumblr), as you've probably heard, and I use it 24/7, so Blogger was sort of left behind. Which was not entirely right, of course.

you will also have probably noticed that my grammar has disintegrated into dust. I would apologise, but, you know, I won't.

Basically, welcome back to Snippets, Slices and Scenes, and I will try to be less pretentious this time, if you'll have me.

If anyone cares, my life has been this since September:

- Intense school with a new system. This includes lots of flailing around in the dark and working harder than I ever have (which, unfortunately, isn't saying much). Side effects: sporadic crying. Also a new sense of purpose and happiness, when I've had a good day.

-ART ART ART ART WHY CAN'T I WRITE ANYMORE I SCREAM AS I MASS-PRODUCE PICTURES OF TOM HIDDLESTON. (spoiler alert: I got over my writer's block. But it took a very long time. And I wasn't just being lazy I tried and tried to write. But I was just on an art kick.)

-The Fault in Our Stars, and along with it, an almost-new way of seeing the world. Nerdfightia. All things John Green. Re-reading Hazel Grace's story on a ferry boat, crossing the ocean to see history on an island, looking out the window and seeing a timeless hazy grey sea-meets-sky line. New people to meet.

-Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. Bordering on a worrying obsession. As in, I looked up the COMICS and am seriously planning to buy them on Amazon. Oh yeah and I'm watching Firefly.

-Apparently I like going to the gym, which is kind of a revelation. It feels almost like being more honest with myself. Like, before, everyone said they hated it so i focused on how crappy i felt when i ran - instead of how the stairwell is all glass and the lovely smell of new paint, and how the facility is really nice, and how it actually feels very, very good to have lost some weight and become a little more fit. I get how people hate it, and i'm not trying to say I'm better than anyone for enjoying it. It's just a weird quirk of me, I guess.

It's kind of ridiculous how much I feel like I've changed since SEPTEMBER. I want to keep track of this little life, and the teeny lovely things like I said before. I feel like I wasn't writing straight from the heart, almost, though, before. Now I want to do my best to do that.

If you're still here and reading this, bless you. If you're new, hi. Bless you too.

Review: Divergent by Veronica Roth

I feel divergent.

In my opinions, I mean. I'm not on the "hate, kill it with knives and spoof it to death" side, like I am with some YA fiction, but I'm not raving, flying flags in the streets, spamming Tumblr with joy notes, or falling out of my chair like I sometimes am, either. I'm somewhere in the middle.

The following review contains spoilers.

On team "this was epic", I felt extremely engaged in Divergent. Maybe it was just that I was wondering whether I'd make it through Dauntless initiation the whole time, but I felt inordinately connected to the story world. Not the characters, not the setting, but the challenges. Jump of a roof? Could I do that? I don't know, could I? It was really interesting and I think back on the reading experience as a startlingly interactive one, and vivid despite the fact I feel like we didn't get enough description. Because yes, I sort of felt like the story skimmed a little, and not enough description was given. It took me a while to figure out things about the city, and most of the time I could never quite picture the setting.

There weren't a horrible number of Hunger Games similarities, but … is it standard to use the name "The Hob"? And when Tobias "confused enemy with friend" under the power of an injection, I was forcefully reminded of Peeta in Mockingjay.

As for characters, I just feel like they could have been clearer, faster. Fears were confronted before Tris, the main character, had struggled with them, and everyone's worst-fear simulations - well, they didn't seem unique, except for Tobias'. Anyone at all would be scared of crows pecking your face off, right? And these fears didn't seem to carry out into the real world; I never saw Tris being scared of water outside of the simulations and one life-and-death situation where she's wishing for anything else. She was held over the chasm, sure, and that involved water,  but again, anyone would be terrified if you dangled them over a river at the bottom of a cliff. So I didn't feel like that was support for that particular thing. Also, sex was one of Tris' biggest fears, but she never expressed that when she and Tobias were kissing up a storm all over the place, before. And right after that revelation, she and Tobias went to his room and she asked him to take off his shirt, and they kissed some more, and then chilled on a bed for a while. Like … I don't know, it didn't seem real.

Tobias was terrified of heights in one section, and in the next he walked up precarious stairs backwards. Tris scorned Al for crying, then cried a lot, herself, all over the book (or was always on the brink of tears) - and then claimed that she wasn't the crying type. Tris was supposed to hide the fact that she could manipulate hallucinations - in fact, wasn't supposed to be able to manipulate them, at the last test - and then goes ahead and blatantly relies on her manipulation anyway. Just small things like that, but they added up to make the characters feel a bit vague.

Tris never felt like a really sympathetic character. She was both selfish and brave, and while those can balance out beautifully - I've seen it done in my favourite fictional character of all time - her sadism when she fought Molly, her thirst for revenge, that brutal refusal to forgive Al, a refusal she didn't really ever repent of, even after his death - they were off-putting. I'm not saying that a character shouldn't be flawed. But when the biggest thing I remember about them is their flaws, when even their best trait - bravery - feeds their pride, they're not sympathetic.

As for secondary characters, I did appreciate Tris' mother, and her death was really sad and well-done. Christina was great except that little moment with the flag in Capture the Flag. Like … what was that, anyway? It made her feel untrustworthy, was it supposed to be that way?

Pacing? The ending cut off really fast. The build-up of 500 pages, then 80 of substance and life-and-death, and then … and then it's over? Everything went fast except for the training, which went on for a very long time. I feel like this could have been more balanced out. The romance rushed ahead at full speed, and I'm not going to yell about that, because I'm a teenage girl and deep down I don't actually mind all that much. But I did feel it was strange that Tris and Tobias were so together, and then only began to figure out that they loved each other at the end. Is it just me, or do you normally love someone before you kiss them in public, defying what might be seen as right, before you can't bear to shoot them even when they're crazy, before the sound of their voice wakes you up from zombie mode?

To get really annoying, I found a few typos. Nobody likes a nitpicker for punctuation, so I'm sorry. *ducks head*

I have to admit, having just finished Divergent minutes ago - I want more.  But not in that I'm-going-to-slowly-die-if-I-don't-get-the-sequel-NOW way that I wait for a book that's fed my soul. Do you know what I mean?

7x01 {Extreme Asylum of the Daleks spoilers}

Snape kills Dumbledore, Darth Vader is Luke's dad, and Oswin is a Dalek.

Moffat's done it again. Basically, that sums up the episode: whether you liked it or not probably depends on what you think Moffat does. If you are of the opinion that he's a terrible writer and can only look at the flaws of an Eleven episode, then you aren't going to enjoy Asylum of the Daleks, whereas if you worship the ground the current showrunner treads on, you'll love it. But it can't be denied: this episode went out with a bang.

The plot? A big pair of fuzzy socks that made your toes feel warm; there were some holes, but they weren't very noticeable and you enjoyed the experience regardless.

The characters? The Doctor was the Doctor, with a good dark line thrown in about him by the Daleks that made me fall off my chair. Rory and Amy's relationship could have had more time to stew, and besides feeling slightly rushed (to me), was very human and realistic. Oswin, though your traditional snarky Moffat girl, pulled it together at the end when her character got more pressure.

The Daleks? It was very satisfying not to have "and we fell back through time!" again, I just have trouble with that explanation. In this episode, they're the creepiest I've ever seen them. In what was definitely their most satisfying role since 2005's Dalek, they once again played the villains, not the comic relief or ridiculous pepper-pots.

They weren't even rediculous once.

Not once.

The plot twist at the end, though. When the Doctor walked in and saw what Oswin was. That was delicious. The claustrophobia-inducing shot of Oswin screaming I AM NOT A DALEK - just brilliant.

My one main problem with the episode is that all the Daleks have forgotten about the Doctor. (I didn't even know they had a hive mind, is that Classic, or just added?) I don't want the Daleks written out of the show at all, and it seems to just squash fifty years of history like a cockroach. Smush! Hopefully there are a couple that still remember him, somewhere else.

Anyway, those are my thoughts! What are yours?

Pond Life!

Pond life. Because I'm going to be DW blogging on Mondays for the next little while, I think I'll start it out with the miserably short first part of "Pond Life".

What can I say? It was funny and cute, but for all its shortness, managed to have one scene they really could have done without. It reminded me lots of the beginning of The Impossible Astronaut. That was disappointing. Don't they realise that kids watch this?

Also, if it was in a real episode, it would have stretched my suspension of disbelief just a bit too far. Yes, Doctor Who is a show about a time travelling, bow-tie wearing alien, but when it's deliberately ridiculous, I have trouble taking it seriously.

But the ending was adorable - I love seeing Amy and Rory chilling at home, and can't wait for more. Tomorrow morning!


Miserably short post for a pathetically short clip - see you all 'round!

Thirty Day Character Challenge 2

Today:

6. The most annoying character

7. The hottest character

8. The funniest character

9. A character who could be your best friend if they were real

10. A character who taught you something about real life

     

6. The most annoying character

     Amy Pond and River song have their moments, but the minute Dolores Umbridge walks on scene, I have feelings of a violent nature.

7. The hottest character

     *blushes* do I have to answer this? I don't really like to call anyone 'hot', the word seems to have too many connotations. Suffice to to say that Loki and the Eleventh Doctor are very good looking.

8. The funniest character

     Most people on Doctor Who make me laugh from time to time, especially the Doctor and Donna. Fred and George Weasley never fail to make me smile. Darcy from Thor is pretty hilarious. "This is going on Facebook, smile!"

9. A character who could be your best friend if they were real

     I almost feel like, why would any of them deign to socialise with me? I realise "the Doctor" is the answer to, like, eighty percent of the questions on here, but if he'd be friends with me, I think we'd get along pretty well. I'd just stick around the Hogwarts gang in general - Ginny, Luna, and Hermione might be fun to hang out with, too. And for some random reason, I'm feeling like Lily Potter might be my first Marauder era friend.

10. A character who taught you something about real life

There's something about this guy that rings a bell.

But come on. Don't all good fictional characters, really, teach you something, whether you're aware of it or not?

(don't own the image.)

Tag!

I've been tagged by the amazing Zoe Alice Latimer  Lostariel.


If you are tagged/nominated, you must post eleven facts about yourself.
- Then, you must answer the eleven questions the tagger has given you and make eleven questions for the people you are going to tag.
- Next, tag eleven more bloggers. (this is the bit I might cheat on, since I actually don't KNOW that many blogs and I'm shy as heck when it comes to tagging people.)
- Tell the people you tagged that you have tagged them.
- No tagging back.
- The person you tagged must have less than 200 followers. (no worries there.)



Random facts about me:


1. There's this one game I play that I like to say I'm fantastic at. I'm not THAT good, but I've managed to beat all the levels except for one, so I get a bit smug now and again. DEIMOS RISING BABY. Pew, pew, pew! *shooting sounds, which is OOC for Micah*

2. I wear my "The Angels Have the Phonebox" t-shirt with pride.

3. I sent JK Rowling fanmail once. I got a form letter back, but it was, like, the friendliest form letter you ever did see.

4. I only watched like fifteen minutes of the Olympics. *ashamed* I DIDN'T EVEN INTERACT WITH THE GOOGLE CARTOONS

5. I have hated the Inheritance Cycle and I have loved it, and I hope that I have judged it well.

6. If your fanvid has lovely colouring and is HD, I'm pretty much sold. If it doesn't, I'm a lot less quick to love it. I'm so superficial.

7.  My first ever chapter story, written when I was eight or nine, was about a mouse, and opened with the line "Hisses rent the air." Unfortunately, that was about the only good bit.

8. I judge you if you like My Little Pony. I'm sorry, I can't help it. Now, whether that is my problem, born of ignorance or spite, I leave it to you to decide.

9. My favourite sport is introducing new people to Doctor Who. Picking the right fanvid to get them intrigued is an art. I hope I get someone with -this- one, sometime, because I really want to try it. Or -this- one. Or -

10. I love the word "snarfed". Snarf. Snarfing.

11.  I'm sitting in the kitchen right now, eating ice cubes plain out of a massive plastic cup my sister got in California and listening to Coldplay.



Answers for Lostariel:


1. If you could meet your death at the hand of any fictional character, who would be your worthy opponent?
   I wouldn't mind being killed by a Weeping Angel. I'd still have years left to live - we all age to death, so doing it in a different time frame doesn't make too much of a difference.

2. What kind of character would you be in a science fiction epic?
     The one that dies conveniently but rather tragically in the cold open, to show how evil/dangerous the villain is. Or maybe just the one that gets shot in the battle but isn't important, you know those kinds?

3. If you decided to be a super villain, would you win? Why or why not?
     Actually, I think I would get pretty far. Most likely not all the way, but I'd have a lot of history to learn from. Also, I wouldn't be motivated by an emotionally scarring backstory, nor pure spite. I'd be evil for no reason, because I decided to be, and because of that, I'd be more detached and I think I'd avoid pitfalls more easily. I'd have to have a few faithful cronies and a bit more of a British accent, though.

4. Pick a plant - tree, flower, herb, or something else flora. Now character sketch: What is his/her personality as a human?
     Tumbleweed's a traveller. He never suffered tragedies, not exactly, but he's detached from his family and loves no one. He doesn't know a better life, so doesn't angst about it, but he's as sad as you would expect someone like that to be, sad with a grey deadness that he can't pinpoint. Tumbleweed doesn't even know himself where it comes from. He travels far and wide, subconsciously looking for beautiful things, but he was never taught the difference between loveliness and plainness, so he's only got a raw instinct to go on, and often passes wonderful things and gorgeous historical landmarks without a thought. Tumbleweed's all about subconsciousness - he's sad and lonely there, and he knows his life could be better down in his heart. But he has no idea how to articulate any of this. He lives on pennies and goes where the wind carries him.
     What will happen when the wind stops?

5. What's an unpopular opinion you hold about music?
     These are hard questions. I don't know that I hold very many unpopular opinions about music. I'm pretty easy going in that area. I like what I like and what I don't I leave be.

6. What do you do with notebooks/sketchpads/journals/diaries/similar once you've filled them up?
     I keep them in a memory box, and then, after a few years, re-read them and judge my younger self. To the point that I sometimes feel insecure writing in diaries, because I can feel seventeen year old Micah peering over my shoulder and not understanding the way I feel.

7. Your doorbell rings. Surprise! It's me! What is your first thought/action?
     AAAGH! IT'S YOU. *HUGE HUG* come inside and we'll make tea and then we can go explore the city together okay? okay.

8. What book/movie/show do you love that you wouldn't recommend to anyone else?
     That is a fantastic question. There are always those things, right? Well, I'm dabbling in the Supernatural fandom, and I have a huge feeling that if I ever did watch it, that would be the show I'd never recommend, but secretly love for reasons only I understand. Right now, though, I can't think of any. Though I put modifiers on Sherlock.

9. You offer a shivering eight-year-old stranger your coat. She smiles at you, and you're not sure if it's a nice smile or a cruel smile, and runs away. You stick your hands in your pockets only to find something in them that wasn't there before. What is it?
     It's glowing, alive, but hard shelled, smooth as diamond. You shake your head - after walking home, Googling it, and staring at it on your shelf for a while, you decide to take it to a jeweller, and see what it's worth. Goodness knows where it came from, but you could use some extra cash.
     How could you guess that you were just the first human being in the world to look at a song?
     Let us forgive your ignorance. But you could at least have figured out what kind of song it was.

10. What is the loveliest voice to fall asleep to?
     Ach, that sounds so romantic. I've never fallen asleep to someone's voice. I can think of some voices I wouldn't mind, like, reading to me or comforting me if we were in the middle of an adventure together, and had camped out at an abandoned house, and needed something to chase away the cold. But as for actually naming those voices - *dodges question*

11. Did you ever get excited when you found out two people you know (or know of) know each other? If so, who?
     Not really - maybe once or twice, but not drastically, as far as I can remember. Sorry.



New questions:

1. If you met a Boggart/found your room at the God Complex/were marched towards room 101 in the Ministry of Love, what would await you? If it's a too personal of a question, just tell us your favourite ice cream flavour. Unless, of course, your worst fear is ice cream. Then you can just leave this blank.

2. How did Sherlock survive?

3. Which do you prefer - nice eyes or a nice smile?

4. What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

5. What is the best smelling book you ever did sniff?

6. Are you the crying type? (The Fall, Doomsday, Toy Story 3?)

7. Which fictional villain makes you the most frightened or angry?

8. What would your dream room look like? ...Your dream house?

9. If you could only see everything in one font, from now on, what font would you pick?

10. Mac or PC?

11. You're a contestant in the Hunger Games. Detail this for us. What's your strategy? Training score? Do you win, or ... not? If you feel like it, give us even more. Outfits? Favourite thing about the Capital? District? What's the arena like this year?


Tagged:

Sandysnare,
chesterisaninja,
madis hartte,
tomorrowsong,
lindelas,
Nicki T.,
Alexandria,
Alexandra,
Lindz,
Allison,
Jennink

Thirty Day Character Challenge

Five days at a time, Fridays. Who's excited? I'm excited!
Fictional characters are such a big part of my life that I think of this as giving you a snippet of my mind - maybe that sounds odd, but I think most of you understand what I mean.

Today:

1. A character from your current favorite fandom

2. A character from a previous favorite fandom

3. A character who looks like you

4. A character who acts like you

5. A group of characters who is most like you and your friends

1. A character from your current favorite fandom

Since this can be any character, I think I'm going to pick out one that I am extremely fond of, but most likely won't show up as a first choice for any of the other questions. She's underrated, underused, but it's almost a good thing: I feel like playing her up too much would be a mistake.

Oh, wait, I didn't mention what my favourite fandom was!

Do I need to? Seriously?

Anyway, this character is Idris (from Doctor Who, of course).

I love the idea of the Doctor having someone always there for him, someone who understands him better than anyone - someone who chose him, stole him. The uniqueness of the Time Lord/TARDIS pairing strikes me as awesome. I love the personification of the machine. Basically, she's interesting, unique, and, because she isn't mentioned a lot, has a lot of room for development.

2. A character from a previous favorite fandom

HOW previous?

I give you Martin the Warrior of the Redwall series - one of the first characters I ever loved.

I give you Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon.

I give you Ferb from Phineas and Ferb.

Note the fact that they're all European. My mum says I'm going to end up marrying an American but with a track record like mine i doubt it

3. A character who looks like you

Lucy from The Chronicles of Narnia. It's kind of weird how similar I look to Georgie Henley.

4. A character who acts like you

This is harder. I think there are a lot of characters I connect with on one level or another. In fact, I can find ways I connect with nearly every fictional character, ever - the better the character, the more connections happen, even if the character is completely different from one, I think. I have some character connections with everyone from Hermione in Harry Potter to Rose in Doctor Who to Loki in the Avengers. But some of the characters I feel most link to:

-Eleven from Doctor Who, with his tendency to bottle up depression or angst - to either be nasty, or on top of the world and less than wholly mature.

-Susan from Narnia. The older sister who has trouble with the being perfect thing.

5. A group of characters who is most like you and your friends

I CAN'T THINK OF ANYONE. For these three of us that used to hang out all the time, the obvious is Ron, Hermione, and Harry, and that's probably about accurate, though I don't think any of us is really Harry. Maybe more of a Fred, George, and Ginny. As for the friends I actually spend time with the most - I can't think. Sorry.

And Then I Went Camping

It's Friday again, and I have been - excuseless and lazy - a terrible blogger for a very long time. I'm honestly trying to smarten up, now. On Fridays, I'll blog about life (I mean, I'll try), and on Mondays, I think I'm going to review Doctor Who. Yep. I think I'm going to go over all of Eleven's era before series seven starts, giving reviews of each episode, so I can be all ready to go when we finally get the airdate for "Asylum of the Daleks".
These are the things I say, but may or may not get done.

I'm exhausted right now. I just debated a stranger on the internet about feminism (which is not a smart thing to do, considering the only base I have for my beliefs on most subjects is my faith, and people don't get where I'm coming from) and it's left me tired and thirsting for something bigger, for a change in the air, for a revival of life in the world.

And to that end, I will describe the recent trip I took up to the bustling metropolis of Merritt, that town to the left of Nowhere that has one McDonald's and a Starbucks.

No, seriously.

'Cos I went with Tomorrowsong - you might know her from her blog, or from Tumblr. She and I had some great talks about Life, the Universe, and Everything. And it was a joy to get away from everything, even if I missed the airing of the new Doctor Who trailer. The air was hot and dry, mosquito bites abounded, and sand and stars and the moon like a searchlight over the water - fishing and swimming and tyres crunching on gravel - lukewarm breakfasts and mountain passes - it all just reordered my brain, a bit. It's honestly nice to be away from good things. The internet is like rich food - every once in a while you have to just drink some water and eat a hot dog and enjoy little things instead. So maybe I'll keep a tighter schedule on my derpy online activities.

So nothing profound for today, because I'm dead tired. That's just my little update on life. Thanks for tuning in, and for letting me give my little description bit. *salutes* I'll see you soon, God willing.

To the Beach

If you Google-search Whytecliff Park, Vancouver, you will find out that pictures are sometimes not worth a thousand words at all.
The only one I could find that came close to capturing the absolute, insane beauty of that place is here.
http://www.bvimages.ca/Fine-Art-Landscapes/Coastlines/200608BEV2509/772949703_KpUNH-L.jpg

But really. You have to stand on that island, climb the rocks on the shore, get lost in the little folds and hollows of the land, look down cliffs to find secluded beaches, stand on submerged rocks and feel the raw power of the ocean spray your skirt.
You have to be there. Smell the salt. Wonder how white, fine sand got in the crevasses of rocks so high up. Chew on grass. Sing. Watch the Loon that's perched on the buoy out to sea. Look for seals among the breakers.
Stand there and cry because it's so amazing. And because you can't keep it.
No really.
There were tears in my eyes.
More than once.

Look, I hate being outside, but one day, one day when I can drive, God willing, I will pack snacks and cucumber sandwiches. I will follow the wind-y roads to the secluded seashore with music blasting, singing at the top of my lungs. I will lean into the hollow of a rock, high up, the sea crashing far below, and I will write poetry and watch the birds and the scuba divers.

TRUE STORY.

The only bad thing about the place - and hey, it isn't bad, it's bittersweet, and sometimes bittersweetness is the best kind of good - is, well, it makes me feel like this.

It's so romantic. The sort of place that basically requires a special hand to hold.

But I'm only fifteen. I don't want a boyfriend. My fictional loves and I can go sit on the cliffs and I'll save the view for someone I'll spend the rest of my life with. Because it's worth it, that sky is worth it.

And that was the story of what I did a day or two ago.

Because I was bored.

Yes people.

These are the places my dad randomly takes me when I'm bored. Because we have nothing better to do.

Be jealous.

Be very jealous.

Scheduling Update

Hey guys!
I think I'm going to be posting on Mondays and Fridays, instead of Wednesdays too. I'm sorry that the summer's been such an inconsistent time.

Thanks, love you all!

Micah

Drawing Spam!

I like to draw. I'm trying to get better. It's really hard. Anywho, this is what happens when I attempt to lay pencil to paper. And I say spam 'cos this is spam. Ten pics right out of the blue. Most of them aren't really that great. I just want to share.

First drawing of Loki.

And my second. Sorry about the terrible definition.

Third, and staring to like this! This one's just better because I used an iPhone camera instead of a PhotoBooth one, and  because I chose an easy reference image.

I still think his forehead's too high?

Amy from Doctor Who. Um - this one's not very good. I just wanted to draw her hair. The face didn't work out, apparently.

Cossette from Les Miserables, in a scene that totally grabbed my heart, where she's playing with a little doll from her foster family. This is different, because it's not meant to look like too realistic, and I don't draw like that often.

Sherlock

Moriarty

...Tom Hiddleston being adorable.

And Tom again.

My favourite - Eleven<3

This Last Year

So - um - today was my birthday. (And America's, if you were unaware.)

No deep post this time: I just had a really nice day, and, allowing some ups and downs, a pretty darn amazing year. Can I share some memories from the past 365 days? Just in snippets, as I wrote them down last night - made a bit clearer, for blogging's sake, though. 'Cause half of it would only make sense for someone living in my brain.
Starting from about now and going back towards last summer.

-

Thank you, Lord, for the fantastic year. Thanks for Les Miserables, Jean Valjean, (and Jean-Valjean-cast-as-Tom-Hiddleston), Fantine, the lovely free audio recordings that have brought me so much joy - thanks for school, and my wonderful online courses. For soaking in knowledge. For sharpened pencil crayons and artwork.

For music. "Sail", Florence + the Machine, Keane, Paramore, YouTube, DW fanvids. Adele. Singing while washing dishes - home alone.

The Eleventh Doctor. Thanks for the times I had staring up at the stars - chilly nights and screenless windows. Frost and wind. Worlds in Time.

For "The God Complex", Dark!Doctor, and raspberries.

Knott's Berry Farm. California. Lying in hammocks in the heated evening - used bookstores, sandals, swimsuits, morning walks, Disney Channel, heavenly smells, windmills, choir.

For that community choir. That I didn't give up on it, even though I was in it for years and was tired. For bus trips. For hanging out after Christmas concerts. For ugly outfits, for mercifully easy choreography this year. For inside jokes. For almost passing out during the recording session. Scavenger hunts. Packed lunches. Laughter.

For safety. For Ernest Hemingway, frozen yoghurt, Robin Hood and Doctor Who. Great babysitting and tame kids. The Screwtape Letters.

Thanks also for conversations with friends. Classic Who. Blogging.

Thanks for that time I was new to DW. For community group and church. For Phineas and Ferb... for Bard on the Beach, BBC, in-mind recasting - series seven hype! My family.

Thanks for Sherlock, I nearly forgot. For Sinnerman, the Fall, "Come Undone" [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lR8jDQ_aUiY ], cliffhangers. "Jim Moriarty, hi!"

For HP8, and how could I forget the Hunger Games? Endless awesomeness.

The pure, otherworldly beauty of our vacation spot - rain - Jonsi [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOd9zWdH2dQ ], and Mockingjay. That new-book smell that was totally unique to the world of Panem.

Winnie the Pooh, road trips.

For phases, and memory, and vivid dreams. And vivid DW rewatches - "Flesh and Stone"!

And so many other things I'm forgetting. Whoa, my brain holds so much sensation.

Thank you.

Brave

The same theatre, the same less-than-stellar expectations, but I walked off with so much more from The Avengers than from Brave. So here's my blog post/review. (On a Saturday. I know. I'm terrible.)

So, how was Brave?
In short: it was alright. Gorgeous design, landscapes, and atmosphere. But to tell the truth, it was riddled with cliches. A princess (oh no) that doesn't like being ladylike (oh no) and is rejecting the suitors that her parents have arranged for her (oh no). She also likes to shoot arrows, because archery is awesome.
Wait, but have I not seen this a thousand times? Now, before Pixar, I'd never heard a story about superheros with family issues, or self centred cars, or the day jobs of the monsters that live in your closet, or a fish that has lost his son and will swim around the world to get him back, tailed by another fish that has short-term memory loss. I'd never even heard about a father and a grandfather who took the littlest in their family to sweep the stars on the moon! (referencing the beautiful little short, "La Luna", shown before the feature film).
But I do know about that princess who hated being ladylike and proved she was just as good as the boys, in the end.

Brave's plotline was slightly predictable, and though the film was lovely and I’m dead jealous of Merida’s hair, it wasn’t exactly the absolute brilliance and freshness that Pixar normally turns out, you know?

Sorry to say, but going with Celtic-y Scottish-y stories about square pegs in round holes that defy their destiny against a beautifully animated backdrop, Dreamworks did it far better two years ago with How To Train Your Dragon.

Still, I'm glad I saw it. With scenes that were genuinely a bit creepy, laugh-out-loud comedy, and art to die for, it wasn't for nothing. But what carries a movie is its character, and the fresh story they live.

And Merida wasn't brave enough to stray into uncharted storytelling land very often.

What Doctor Who Has Taught Me

So - I missed two blog posts. Yeah. *hangs head in shame* And with all the new lovely followers. On the subject of followers, new and old: guys, don't be shy, comments are one of my favourite things in the world. If any of you have something to say on the subjects of which I speak, I wanna know what you're thinking. Sometimes it feels like just me and Lostariel, lol. It's okay, though, I'm not pressuring anyone. It's all good! Really, it is.

What have I been doing? Well, on Wednesday, I started a blog post really late at night, but I made the mistake of starting to write about the Doctor Who episode "The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit" at midnight. I hate to admit it, but I just creeped myself out, so I went to bed. And then on Friday, I was in Seattle with my dad. We went on a road trip.

-

'Kay.

All rise for the subject of today's post.

Worth. Doctor Who, if it's taught me one thing, has taught me this.

Worth.

See, the theme of Doctor Who is this. No matter where you're from, no matter who you are, no matter how broken or average or useless or mean or ugly, you mean something, you are special, and you could save the world.

Ugh, there are so many thoughts crowding in my head, I can't think. The thing is, Doctor Who is a light. It's secular, it slips in its dirty jokes and its moralism, but in the end, Doctor Who has important messages and even more important themes running subconsciously through it.

Yes, totally subconsciously. It is impossible to believe in evolution and carry that worldview all the way through - it is. See, the Doctor claims to believe in evolution. But then he is a completely contradictory character: if evolution is true, then survival of the fittest is also a truth, and what is the Doctor doing saving people, defending the earth when it's too weak to defend itself? The Doctor is practicing something that stems from God and God alone: he is self-sacrificing, giving of himself to save weak human beings (when he is clearly part of a superior race). You can't deny that the Doctor lives out a worldview different than the one he claims. Not just different: directly opposed. There is no way a consistent believer in evolution could look at a little chid with dyslexia, and, instead of writing him off as a deficient quirk of nature when the kid admits this problem, bend down to his level, and say warmly, "Oh, that's okay, I can't make a decent meringue."

And in living this out, the Doctor has taught me worth.

That people are worth it, and that the monsters are worth it.

D'you ever just see someone - someone who's just doing nothing, not impacting anything in any visible way, sitting on their couch, doing their routine - and do you ever just feel contempt for them? Like they're not worth it? Like, "So, what are you doing for the world?" Of course, it's silly, because really, what difference am I making right now? But that was me - and is me. I tell you, though, it got so much less when the Doctor took my hand and showed me. Showed me that a temp worker can be the most important woman in the universe, that a medical student can rock the cosmos, that an unemployed teenager can make all the difference in the world.

"You don't have to own the universe, just see it."

The Doctor showed me, with that line, and with his life, that it's nice to be big and grand, but you don't have to own the universe. You can just be a normal person, just seeing it. That the "just seeing it" people are impacting things in their own way. That they're all made in the same image, and that is a Holy image.

"You and I both know, don't we Rose - the Doctor is worth the monsters."

Yes, he is, a thousand times, and so is life. Life is worth the monsters. And so we see written in the Bible. Romans 8:18 says "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." The darkness, it doesn't last, and it's pushing through it, resisting it, that brings the reward.

So, yes, that's what God has shown me through Doctor Who.

Sexism

No one can accuse me of being a girly-girl. I'm planning on getting the terrible pink of my walls covered in a nice coat of dark blue. My favourite show consists of a lot of blowing up stuff and food for the mind between alien attacks. Look at my name! I've only met one other girl "Micah". My hair is as short as a guy's, and I admit to getting excited over a Starwars Ultimate Guide today. I'm ambitious, and I don't think about anything in life being harder for me because I'm a girl - in fact, I absolutely hate it when people say girls are worse at something than boys, if the thing in question isn't physical.
Yeah, but.

France, 1789. A war is raging, ripping a country apart. The blood-soaked people fight under a banner  that bears an inspiring trio of words: "Liberty, equality, fraternity". But the people's push for that equality is tragic - thousands of innocents are slaughtered in the lust for it.
What are we losing in our grasp at equality?

Women aren't treated very well, are they? Anywhere. In the East you have them ground underfoot, in the West, you have them smudged out of existence.
No, seriously.
Chances to express ourselves, write, make art, discover math and science, to love, to make changes to the world, and to serve our God in huge ways - fantastic. Right, I love that.
Abandoning motherhood, starving our bodies into shapes as closely resembling men as possible - armed with disrespect, disregarding the knights who come to rescue us, because we're too in love with the tower. Laughing in the face of what chivalry they still offer.

All in the pursuit of equality.

Equality isn't sameness.

The culture is pushing women out of the mould they've always been in. Well and good? No. No, not really. Not at all, actually. Okay, I don't care if you like skateboarding and you're a girl. I don't care if you like to paint and you're a boy. It doesn't matter. But I do care if the women are leading their families. If they're not submitting to their husbands. If they're taking off and leaving their children to be raised by schools and daycares. If they're killing their babies - before and after the children are conceived - 'cause they want lifestyle.

Yeah, I'm for women's rights. Define women's rights. I want girls who can be girls, and not copies of men.

What about men? This makes me even angrier, believe it or not. Men are weakening. They can't lead anymore. They're not where they were meant to be. There are lovely guys who still do their part, but notice the trend, especially in television, where the weak, passive father is ruled by the disrespectful mother. And anything else is called sexism. Men don't even treat themselves right.

It makes me want to cry - so, girls have to be men and men have to be nothing, and that's the only thing that can be, because anything else isn't equality?
Misunderstanding of the word 'equality'.

I, for one, want a leader. I want to be a helper. I was made to be a helper. That doesn't mean I can't have dreams. But I was born a girl, and I want to be one.


{I do, of course, generalise. There are many exceptions, good and bad, to all stereotypes mentioned here.}

Stuff

So, I saw Macbeth. In our city, we have this lovely group who do Shakespeare in an outdoor tent environment. They have a proper stage and everything, but the back of the huge tent is open and the mountains and sea here serve as a backdrop. They're called Bard on the Beach.
It was pretty fantastic. However, the actors were yelling a lot of the time - I felt like it wasn't subtle enough. I blame this on a few things. One, the internet has turned me into a critic. Two, I have the most fantastic audio production of stories from Shakespeare ever. The actors are absolutely perfect and it all sounds so gorgeous. So I was expecting a lot. Three, I was repeating a lot of the lines over in my head, but executed by my dream cast for the play. Which is comprised of a lot of British, world-class actors. So what can you do? It was awesome, and I had a great time with my grandma, who treated me to it.
And we had sushi, which is heaven for the taste buds.
And of course, it was fantastic to be in the city.
Now I smell like sand, because of walking along the beach before the performance.
And I'm sunburned.
And earlier today I went boating with some good friends, and discussed writing, character development, and life questions, such as our opinions of BBC's Robin Hood and Whether "The God Complex" Is An Amazing Doctor Who Episode Or Not (which it is).
And presently I'm going to go mix and match the options of watching Doctor Who, writing, Tumbling too much, and drawing a poster for Macbeth starring a Doctor Who actor. God Willing, of course, because Tumblr might swallow all the time if I let it conquer me.
But it can't defeat my purposes until Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinane Hill.

There's my little update for today! Thanks for tuning in. This has been Silly Songs With Larry.

Harry Potter

Yeah, last summer was a traumatic time. Sobbing my eyes out - because Snape - I exited the theatre, plastic wand in hand. Mischief Managed. Over forever. And it really was that sad.
But then came Doctor Who. Sherlock. Loki. The Hunger Games. Fanfiction. Tumblr. Facebook.
And I figured that these things were just as good (if not better) than Harry Potter.
Yesterday, I re-watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for the first time in many moons.

Guys, I was wrong.

Okay, Doctor Who, Sherlock, the Hunger Games, and Loki's movies have their goods and their bads, their strengths and their weaknesses. I'm sure there are places where they're all stronger than Harry Potter.
...right?
Eh, I can discuss that later. It'd take too long.

Anyway, besides the pure nostalgia that attacked me in waves of bittersweet beauty, I loved the movie because I've learned a lot about writing since I watched Harry Potter last. Or maybe it's that stepping back for a while has cleared my mind. But the thing that I was just gushing over for the length of the movie was the characterisation. I hadn't noticed it before, but -

JK Rowling, you blow my mind.

Well, I can't give out awards for the way the movie handled it, but the film woke up my memory of the book, and that floored me. Harry Potter is what it is not because of fascinatingly detailed setting. Not because of its brilliant school atmosphere.

Harry Potter is a series about characters.

The characters in Harry Potter are so human. All of them have unglamorous moments. They go to the ball with complete strangers because it is awkward to go alone. They get crushes that don't go anywhere, and disastrous dates to end those crushes. The best of friends fight. And all their flaws could be found in an everyday shopper at your local supermarket. It's so simple - and yet so effective. I sobbed at the end of a chapter in HP4 when Harry and Ron fight and don't talk to each other. So simple but so real.

JK Rowling, I think, treats the ones in her story as people, and not as characters, because they're real. Their flaws aren't cut and dried, or black and white. They're grey and blurred and everyone as insecure as we are. They could walk off the page, because they have as many bumps, bruises, embarrassing moments, disappointments, and zits as we do, as any teen does. They make rude jokes as they get older. They angst. No character's above this, too - Dumbledore is really brought down in the last book, with some shady past. Even the most trusted are mistrusted sometimes, and there's often just cause.

The bad guys have motivation, too. Snape isn't just this bat lurking around, because we find out that his acidity has a source. People get old. People die. Families yell at each other while guests stand by awkwardly. None of it feels misplaced, because no one is a Mary Sue, and everyone has things that don't work out for them.

And yet these people are called upon to do the extraordinary, and by their humanness, they show us that we can do it, too.

I wish to God - and that is by no means taking His name in vain - that I could write characters like JK Rowling can. 'Cause I haven't explained well enough, here, how well she does what she does.

In Which I Publicly Shame Myself And Use Too Many Gifs

Lostariel - Zoe (because somewhere deep down in me, that'll be your name forever ;) - I owe you a serious apology.
I'm re-reading my How to Train Your Dragon 2 fanfiction.

I think I might have to check myself into a hospital. How you still have a smidge of respect for me after reading that beats me. Oh, help. I can't even -

Look, I don't want to be one of those people who complains about their work when everyone else thinks it's great - and who do this because they secretly like the work and are looking for affirmation. I'm NOT doing that right now. I'm not going to utterly slam the thing - there were a couple of saveable moments and descriptions that filed under the 'okay' section. But I honestly have never, EVER read a fanfiction as utterly cheesy as that HTTYD one that is sitting under my profile name. No exaggeration.

Ah, Lostariel, I owe you a ton of my ability to actually write about people who are minimally in-character. Thank you for sticking with me through all those horror stories of mangled English.

Gosh, I can't believe I'm doing this, but, uh, I do want to make this post mildly entertaining for you guys, so I'll give you my least favourite part of the story. Because I'm insane. And, truth is, I do like making fun of bad writing. It's a pleasure similar to reading the Amazon.com reviews that detail why Twilight is not even worth the paper it takes to print.
I've never  been brave enough to actually share the crap I wrote, though.
When we're done, we'll pretend it never happened, 'kay?

To fully bring the terror of the situation to bear, I ask you all to remember to remember this cute and socially awkward kid, below right.

If you haven't seen him in his film, then you seriously need to. So sweet and touching. But Hiccup's certainly not capable of ever, in a million years, saying anything remotely close to this speech - and yes, he does indeed get eloquent enough to speak in third person:

[telling his girlfriend about his true heritage (as if that wasn't cliche enough)]
"Astrid, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third is a half-breed hybrid infused with enemy blood. he's your nightmares come to life in one of your friends. He's going to battle with his relatives. He's stained and corrupted by the royal line of Thornburg. Kenna Nadderslayer is his flesh and blood, his cousin, and Peaeye Nadderslayer is his uncle, his mother's brother.
Why did Toothless choose me, when I was so filthy? Why was I destined to be the Dragon-Viking peacemaker when my family so freely sheds the blood of each of these races? I don't know. But even if you never care for me again, and try to forget about me as soon as I leave you, don't tell anyone else of my heritage. But if you choose to abandon me, do so, and I'll harbour no ill feelings toward you - I hate the Thornburgians as much as you do."
I looked at her.
She was trembling, and a tear shivered on her eyelash, about to fall.
She looked down, and traced something in the ground with her finger.
"So, do you hate me to your bones, Astrid Hofferson?" I asked softly.
She looked up at me, shaking her head slowly. "You can doubt that the stars are fire! You can doubt that the sun movess! You can even beleive truth itself to be a liar! But there's one thing you should never doubt, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third."
[kissing ensues]

Oh my Rassilon - Shakespeare. What was I doing, writing Hamlet into a headstrong, self-driven girl?

This freaking used to be my favourite part.

#physically ill

Isn't It Beautiful

Isn't it beautiful-
I know it can be terrible. I know it can be used, like everything, to sow evil in the land.
But forget, for a moment, and think.
Isn't it gorgeous that no one cares.
We're souls. Souls floating around and meeting each other. Faceless souls.
And this means that race and colour lose their potency. That no one cares if you're a bit overweight. Scars don't show. Neither does that terrible haircut. Doesn't matter if you're deaf, unable to speak, or paralysed.
Look terrible when you cry? Cry all you want, because you're just a soul crying. No one will shun you because those clothes are hand-me-down. If you're burned, blemished, disabled, inept. Simply ugly.
Well, we can't see.
Gorgeous? Carry yourself like a queen? Hottest hair ever? Work out just to look good?
Sorry. You're just a soul and your body is made of dust. No one can see the dust.
Souls are made of starlight.
Only starlight shines through the dark that we've made, here. The vacuum of cyberspace.


Isn't it beautiful that here, on the internet, a dangerous place, full of ruffians and wolves and ice, full of distractions and tripwires - isn't it beautiful that we can stay in the light, walking with friends, our feet never touching the ground. Like flying.
(Except it's sitting on a chair).

I know there are the ups and the downs, the trues and the falses of this. Yesses and nos. Flaws.

But if you have a brain and you speak to others of equal brainage, and you both let that little grey man fill in for you in the profile picture meeting -

Well, no one cares that you're Asian or European or American. If you speak with an accent. If you stutter.

We're ambassadors. Distance and difference don't keep us apart.

My Favourite Villain

-spoilers for Thor, Harry Potter, Sherlock, and Doctor Who-

He only ever wanted that one simple thing. But the search for it destroyed him. He went too far, and maybe he was always willing to go too far. A loveless life, a violent death with few mourners to remember him. Suicide, in fact (really, what was the point of living anymore?). The outcast, the black sheep, the liar, the lonely. So many lives on his hands. The people who were just like him were killed (or hunted) with even more viciousness than the numberless innocent dead. Feared and hated.

The stuff of legend.

But what's his name? Well, I'm not going to say it. It's hidden, so to speak. I mean, you don't just go SAYING that name. Someone has to force you to use it, doesn't he?

And when they do...

They're crying. "TELL ME!" (And the word is weary. Laufeyson, you tell him.)

Confused. "Could you write it down?" (And, well, you can't spell it. "Voldemort. Don't make me say it again.")

Yelling. "The name! Now! The name!" (And it comes out with a scream of pain. "Moriarty!")

And laughing. "Use my name." (And you whisper it. "Master. Please.")

Yeah, yeah, I stretched it a bit for some characters. Loki wasn't asking Odin for his name when he screamed "Tell me," but goodness the dramatic effect is beautiful. And, well, I wouldn't say Voldemort's death was suicide, strictly. Hey, it was his own curse.

But look at how similar they all are! And then there are parallels between individual villains - from the list and throughout history (fact and fiction). Let's go into this some more, I love this. Because it doesn't get old, and that's the beauty of it.

A gorgeous facet of some villains is that they hate their own kind. Hate them! Why? Because they hate themselves. And I'm not talking their own species, though that can happen - Loki wanted to take out his entire birth planet (I guess that's what you'd call it? A planet you were born on, but got adopted from? Galactic foster kids, enlighten me). But think about Voldemort and his lust for racial purity within Wizardkind. So he murdered Muggle-born witches and wizards. But of what birth was he, in the end? A Muggle and a half-squib. Real pure, there, Tom. Who did Moriarty most want to bring down? Well, the detective who would one day shake the criminal's hand and identify them both as the same man. Likewise the Master and the Doctor.

And what about Hitler? People say he was part Jewish, is that true? Even if it isn't, he didn't have blonde hair and blue eyes.

What about that old self-inflicted death? Voldy's curse rebound, like I mentioned, along with Moriarty's own bullet and Loki letting go and falling into space (though, of course, he only stayed dead 'till after the credits. But don't let me get started on that scene or incessant fangirling will occur). Oh, yeah, and the Master's refusal to regenerate in "Last of the Time Lords" and throwing himself into the Time Lock with the Time Lords in "The End of Time" (that's a lot of "time").

And the name? Loki's true heritage was hidden. Voldemort was more commonly known as "You Know Who" or "He Who Must Not Be Named" throughout the Potter series. Moriarty's name had to be wrung out of the serial killer in "A Study in Pink." And the Master has to prompt the Doctor to use his name twice.

Oh, yeah, and whichever evil dude he is, he's got a British accent.

Caaan't forget that one.

(Come on, Wales is part of Great Britian).

I find it really, really interesting to see the similarities between all these villains. And a pretty awesome guide to crafting a memorable antagonist, too - also, it shows stereotypes to maybe break. Anyone spotted any other parallels? Who did you think I was talking about when I started with the opening paragraph - like, which villain jumped to your mind?

--

Hey, I just finished this post

And this is crazy

But off-subjectly, I got a Tumblr

So follow me maybe

http://phoenixwormwood137.tumblr.com/

Happy For Deep People

Short, abrupt post ahead. You have been warned.

-

"What's so good about sad?" "It's happy ... for deep people."

That's a hard quote to use. Because it goes, "Hey, guys, guess what, I'm deep!" But doesn't everyone have a grain of deepness? Somewhere? Isn't it a human trait? Doesn't everyone have a moment when they  hear a poem, read a book, watch a movie, or listen to a song, and suddenly see another world?
Almost touch something outside of themselves?

Most people, I think.

We go to see tragedies, and we shiver while Hamlet battles himself - Shakespeare still sells.
We listen to that song that drips with nostalgia - and again. And again.
We list "The Old Man and the Sea" as a masterpiece, and would secretly never get Hemingway to change the way he wrote it, even though it breaks our hearts.
And we re-watch The Reichenbach Fall.

What is that? What makes us find that vein of gold in the rock of old, sad things?

Really - I don't know.

My train of thought apparently falls off its rails before it even reaches the signpost that says "Profundity station: 100 miles", but what can I say? It's my last school-haunted Monday night of the year and my brain is a little bit fried. I have some deadlines to make and some books to read. Thanks for stopping by, though!

Hey, and could you tell me: what, actually, do you like me to post about? Because I look at the hits I get on various blog posts, and, for the life of me, I can't figure out the connection between the highest ones. Seriously, just tell me, I don't care what you say. I'm here for my readers, right?

Thanks again!

Exam Essay

Here's a little something I wrote for a question on my exam study guide. Don't worry, I didn't actually turn it in - the question I'm answering didn't end up being on the actual test.

What WAS the question? It had to do with the inventor of Communism, the writer of "Pilgrim's Progress", and this French thinker who had some strong ideas about how people should interact with government. And it also had to do with all these guys discussing the US Constitution over lunch.

The "over lunch" bit was the bit that stuck with me.

-This is pure(ish) parody. No disrespect was aimed at any of the historical characters involved, and the changes that they brought about in history are held with due regard.

-The author does not like Twilight. No french fries (or chips) were harmed in the making of this essay.

-I have no idea what I'm doing. I just wrote this. I'll probably hate it later.

The debate is heated: three amazing philosophical minds bump against one another, fighting fanatically, each advocating their position with fire. They sit in McDonald's, burgers long since finished. Karl is in the swivelly chair, kicking the outdated Hamburgler cartoon on the wall when his turns reach the point of stoppage furthermost to the right.

It takes a great stretch of time, in which the set of children playing in the PlayPlace changes at least thrice, but John wins the other two over eventually. Karl and J.J. sit defeated - Bella does, in the end, belong with Jacob.

Trying to pick up the ruined pieces of  his worldview, J.J. changes the subject.

“Another Coke, anyone?” He says weakly.

“Indeed,” John says. “I am parched. But no need to trouble yourselves: I shall pay.” He takes out his wallet, and something falls out. He doesn't seem to notice, intent as he is upon the McDonald’s Coke machine, and heads off before either man sitting at the table can alert him to the fallen slip of paper.

J.J. picks it up and unfolds it. In swirling italics along the top, the words “The United States Constitution” are printed.

He reads interestedly, but his expression grows sour and he puts down the paper.

“Well,” he says, “Frankly, I am a bit disgusted.”

Karl picks it up. “Why?”

“Well,” J.J. says, “The citizens are in a position where they do not gather to rule themselves. The government has its hands in most everything that the general public should be controlling.”

“Really?” Karl says absently, buried in the crinkled yellow paper.

“Really,” J.J. says, as if he himself is just coming around to the fact that he is not making this up. “There is overmuch room for private business. The General Will is merely represented. Representatives this, representatives that. It is not the general will anymore. It has become something else. It is England all over again: I weep for this system. Have they not read my writings? Why does no one ever read my writings? They are only as free as their bloody representatives deign to make them!” He knocks over a paper ketchup cup with a french fry, his hands are trembling so. “And that is no freedom! It is a shell! It is a void! The people go about their daily business and are completely uninvolved in their government. They only meet in forums to discuss entertainment! They do not even meet in these forums! They simply stay inside and meet through magic! I weep! I weep.” He puts his head in his hands.

Karl chews a chicken finger thoughtfully. “Sorry, old chap?” he says, looking up from the Constitution finally.

“The government is not run by the General Will,” J.J. wails. “The people are not half as involved in it as they should be.”

“My dear fellow,” Karl says, almost breaking the fourth wall with his Britshness (he is, after all, German). “You have it completely backwards. Don’t you see - with a larger amount of government control, most of this hassle, hustle and bustle would be taken out of the country? Things could be completely fair, shared equally among the people. That, my friend, is the only way to run a peaceful nation.”

“That would never work.” A vein begins to throb in J.J.’s temple. “It would suppress the General Will.”

“Is the General Will even good for the people?” Karl says. “I think not. Do you not realize that the government knows the best?”

J.J. is struck speechless. “What?” He eventually says, through his speechlessness.

“The government,” Karl says, cool as a submarine in arctic waters, “Knows better than the people. People are unruly. People do not know what is best for themselves.”

“You know nothing!” J.J. says, standing up, now. “How can you be so deceived?”

John comes up with a tray of drinks. “Are you two alright?” He says.

“Tell this imbecile that something is wrong with this document,” J.J. says, handing the Constitution to John and indicating Karl.

Karl studies his nails, quite at ease. “I think you will find the imbecile is Jean-Jaques here,” he says.

John looks concerned, and looks the document over. Karl and J.J. stare each other down, sipping their soda pops without breaking the gaze.

“Yes,” John says, after a long and simmering pause. “There is something quite wrong here.”

Karl and J.J. begin chewing their straws with impatience.

“This is not the document I meant to get,” John says. “I was meant to receive a theological study on 21st century issues.” He looks up, not registering the frustration on Karl and J.J.’s faces. “The time traveller that gave me access to his library swimming pool must have mixed up the files, or my name isn’t John Bunyan.”