Gevurah;Justice

Wat.

Thu, 26 Feb 2009 14:03:09 GMT

Hello LiveJournal.

Why must you be the best and most utilitarian blog manager, but the one with the smallest audience?

I like my layout, even after 2 years of no posts. But hey, here's a new one.

-end-

Happy Thanksgiving.

Fri, 23 Nov 2007 04:47:57 GMT

As my generic title suggests, I would like to wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving, and to contemplate on exactly what you have to give thanks for. If you can even just read this journal post, you probably have tons more to be thankful for than a lot of people in the world today.

-fin-

No Writing

Fri, 19 Oct 2007 01:10:39 GMT

I haven't written anything in so long. The sudden flood of literacy I experienced when I moved to Lexington seemed to be stopped up when I began working. Now, the immediate goals I need to achieve (money for survival) are impeding on the more grand goals of being of published author. They never taught that in Life Skills class...

I believe the hour of work is affecting my literacy, rather than the work itself. If I could move the 8 hours I work from 10 - 6 to 8 -4, I believe I could better get myself into a writing habit. Right now, however, I am suffering from a grievous creativity wound. Even worse is the coming of winter, which has always been my period of craft blindness.

-fin-

Antediluvian Nephilim

Wed, 03 Oct 2007 09:42:14 GMT

And ye shall be as Gods..."
    The message came across my computer screen in red lettering, illuminating the room. Over and over again, flooding my vision.
    "It was the parting of the firmament. It was the eating of the fruit. The birth of the Nephilim."
    I blinked, the blurry fog of drowsiness aching my eyes, and it was gone. All I saw was the white void of an empty Word document. I felt a wetness in my lap, and looking down realized I had spilled my can of soda.
    "Ah, geez," I said, pushing myself from the computer chair and picking up the can. I shook my head, and went from the room to get a towel.

    I went into the bathroom and grabbed one from the top of the shelf above my toilet. I turned to leave, but as my eyes passed over the mirror, I thought I saw something. A figure, or a shadow; I wasn't sure. I stopped and stared. Only my eyes stared back.
    "I need some sleep," I said, out loud to break the silence and reassure myself.

Tea Time

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 19:43:01 GMT

    The pink morning sun paints the soft mist a vibrant purple, cascading into the valley a palette of lazy color. A man, dressed in his morning robes, draws a wooden vessel from a well and carries it up stone mossy steps into an old temple. Bronze and silver bowls hang from rafters, scenting the place with sandalwood and jasmine. Five other men sit cross legged around a hearth, as the vessel-carrier pours the water into a small iron pot. Tiny white cups, without handles and made of porcelain, are passed to each man. Then, a small leather pouch is passed thusly, from which the men draw dry green leaves to sprinkle into their cup. They await, silently, for the water to boil. Meditative, each man reflects on the day before, and contemplate the day ahead.

    Tea, to me, is a symbol of universality. It is the most consumed liquid, exempting plain water, in every country of the world except for the United States of America. It hails from the lush dark green valleys of the far east, kept there an exotic secret for two millennium, until the advent of imperialism turned it into a trade currency.
In China, tea is considered a sacred leaf, and essential to offerings and hospitality.
In Japan, tea and mastery of it's secrets are a Do; a way of enlightenment. The tea-ceremony is considered an important and mind-building exercise, mixing religion, philosophy, meditation, art, and the libation of the liquid into an elegant ceremony; during which only a small cup of tea (perhaps several thimblefuls) is consumed.
England has made tea their own in various ways, inventing many of the modern accouterments one sees involved with tea, including a national 'tea-time', around 4 o'clock.
Ireland has taken to full-bodied and strong black tea, of which a 'cuppa' is considered a cure-all.

    Tea is also, perhaps, one of the few pleasures of life that one need not feel guilty about. Various health benefits arise from the consistent consumption of tea, putting many tales of such that classic scholars scoffed at into a modern and realistic light. One of the main benefits that tea contains are anti-oxidants; polyphenols in tea can destroy 'free radicals', which damage or destroy healthy cells in the body. Tea helps your natural immunity system resist disease, and research has even showed that tea aids in the body's fight against cancer.
Tea also contains a small amount of caffeine (60% less than a cup of coffee), which contain it's own benefits when used in moderation. Green tea contains a large amount of Vitamin C; a strange phenomena, because the vitamin is usually destroyed when exposed to high temperatures in other situations. This lends credence to Old wives tales of tea being a cure for the common cold.
    All tea contains fluoride, which help teeth and bones. It also contains flavanols, which, as mentioned above, help against cancer, but also help against heart disease.

    I drink tea regularly. Sometimes I simply fix a cup and drink it during the bustle of the day, but I get the best experience from enjoying a cup of tea in of itself. Preparing it precisely, turning on some calming music, and sipping slowly, it helps me explore the inner depths of my mind in silence. Such contemplation is a rare gift these days, especially in my nation. It is neccesary to me, however, so that I may evolve spiritually and mentally.

The best cup of tea is prepared the following way;

    Use non-stale water, the best being water filtered right out of your tap. To make sure it isn't stale, turn on your tap for 30 seconds before taking water, insuring the water you are using has not been sitting in the pipes. Use cold water. These things combine help keep the water pure, allowing the tea to seep nicely. Boil the water quickly, and remove it from heat and steep the tea as soon as it begins to boil. Over-boiling can affect the water adversely, not allowing the tea to seep properly. DO NOT OVERSTEEP. This causes the bitterness that many people mistakenly think tea is. Black tea and green tea are generally steeped around 3 minutes. Whole leaf tea give 5 to 7 minutes. White tea, due to it's non-fermented nature, should be steeped 7 to 15 minutes to get the fullness of it's flavor. Simply add a touch of sugar, honey, lemon, spice, herb, or anything else you may like. Experimentation with tea is a joy.

    I will talk a moment about what tea, the plant, really is. It is called Camellia sinensis scientifically, and is grown in tropical or sub-tropical locations. The plant itself can live up to a century, though those grown in higher elevations live much less (though are known for their rich flavor). The plant leaves are dried and fermented (or oxidized) to a certain degree, acheiving the sort of color or flavor you generally see.
Black tea is thoroughly oxidized, giving it it's dark and heavy nature. Oolong tea is oxidized to a point, until the edges of the leaf are turning brown, giving it a strong taste, but accenting that with the softness attributed to green tea. Green tea is not oxidized, and is fired as soon as it is picked to keep the flavor as natural as possible. White tea is made with young leaves, before the plant reaches maturation and the leaves ripen, and is fired as soon as it is picked like green tea. All of these come from the same plant, and it would be feasible to create each type from the same singular plant.

    Tea is a symbol, as I have said before. It is a symbol of friendship, of meditation, of health, and of naturalness. I believe it can be a symbol of global comradeship; a universal language. Sit a young Chinese factory worker, an upper-class British gent, and a yak farmer around a table, and the one liquid (other than water) you could serve without complaint would be a nice cup of tea. Though, make sure to let the British man add milk and sugar, and provide some yak-butter to the farmer. The tea remains, however, a central global concept of enjoyment and contemplation.

-fin-

Dusty

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 16:31:20 GMT

I suppose I should update this. School is close to starting. Anyone else excited? Okay, maybe not. I am, however, simply because with the start of the semester, I will get to again associate myself with people I have direly missed. It's strange to think how long it has been since I've seen some of these people (though I did get to see Amy and meet Patrick Kelly).

Whistles the wind.

-fin-

Here There Be Dragons

Sun, 13 May 2007 11:19:36 GMT

    When looking at this warning (in the title), do you sense fear, or excitement? If you didn't answer the second, than you are a prude. Anyway, my point is (now you at least know I'm trying to make a point) that writing adventure and fantasy is like that. Here There Be Dragons, we say, and using the excitement such things bring, we forge a story that flirts with the deepest and most primal recesses of our imaginations. We want to see these dragons! We want to watch them breathe fire and fly among the white clouds and bright blue skies of story. This is why I write, really. I don't want to contribute some abstract meaningful ideal to literature, or write in allegory and try to philosophize through text ( I do enough of that without story, thank you very much); I want to show people dragons, and trolls, and beautiful fields of green grass, and emerald forests lush with magical flora and fauna. I don't really care that a certain segment of something I write may be symbolic of some inner or outer struggle with the Id and the Ego --I care about the struggle of the plucky hero against the sinister overlord. What I am trying to say, I suppose, is that as a writer, I don't consider myself an artist. I consider myself a storyteller.
    Not that I am saying writing for the art of it is a bad thing. I have read many stories and writings that made me think deeply and thoughtfully about our world and what lies behind it. I just want to focus on telling stories. I think too few writers try to be story tellers, and in trying to writer something meaningful they simply end up with cheap metaphorical allegory; something so invisible and pedestrian that I'd rather read non-fiction and cut out the middle man.

    Alright, sorry. Felt like ranting.

    I am ready to send in the new and improved Upon a Sea of Stars to Weird Tales as a submission. If accepted, I will be paid a few hundred dollars. If not, then I will be given a letter of why they didn't accept my work from a real life writing editor. Somehow, I think the latter would be more valuable to an aspiring writer such as myself. Money will go away after a few weeks. That letter, which holds the wisdom of a professional editor, will probably improve the way I write and thus stay with me my entire writing career. The only thing I would be unhappy with is no response whatsoever.

    I have been thinking recently about how much I've been writing lately, and I began to feel guilty for being so writing-lazy during High School. I wrote hardly at all, or so I thought. Just now, I remembered, because of Xanga I've probably wrote a thousand or so words near-daily, and it has probably been a heavy influence in keeping my writing sharp and in check. In fact, because of the memoir style of writing required for a blog such as this, my writing has shaped itself into being first-person narrative heavy. So, I gotta say thank you for reading this site and keeping me writing.

    See you guys, love ya.

-fin-

A Creepy Moment in the Life of the McGill Family

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 06:57:50 GMT

Alright, something very creepy (almost downright frightening) happened to me an hour or so ago, on my way home. Here's the scoop...

    My father, my mother, and I had just left Grayson at about 1:30 am. We were driving back home from work, and were all ready to eat something and then sleep gloriously until noon, very happy about the weekend being here. We were talking, laughing, shooting the shit (I was also playing my Gameboy), when a colorful expletive issued forth from the mouth of my father.
    "Shit," he said, looking in the rear window. A man in a red car (looked like a 70s model of some sort) came about an inch or two away from our bumper, and stayed on our tale. Then, the man slowed for a second, switched lanes, and then sped up to pass us, and then cut into our lane. He then slowed down so that we were on his bumper.
    "What the hell?" Dad said, slowing to avoid hitting him. Miffed, Dad switched lanes and sped off, hoping to get away from the person (who we thought was drunk.)
    Weird, however; as we passed him, he turned his neck to lock eyes with Dad. The man was large, and the look on his face I can only describe as detached. He looked like a vegetable, or possibly mentally ill. It was creepy.

    Anyway, so we sped off, good riddance. Or not... the man seemed to follow us. Dad was all "what the fuck?" and tried to speed away. The man kept close to us. Then Dad, changed his mirror to see the guy. As soon as Dad did that, the man turned his brights on. Dad switched it back, and the man turned his lights on. Dad, again, changed the mirror, and the man turned his brights back on. Dad repeated this three or four times before just slamming down the peddle and speeding off as fast as possible.
    Then, our exit came up. Thank god we all thought. We turned down the Cannonsburg/Ashland exit and went down into a curve. The man, however, followed us. This caused a cold chill to spread down my neck. What was going on?
    The exit ended into another road, and we turned on our right blinker to trick the man. He, too, lit his Right blinker. Then, as we reached the end, we turned left and sped off. I turned around, only to see the man change his blinker and turn our way.
    Dad was probably going around 80 at this point, and there was a large distance between us and the man. We would lose him in curves, but always he'd show up again a little ways behind us. Ahead of us, an intersection appeared; the one in front of the Cannonsburgh Wal*Mart. Far ahead, we saw the light turn Green. Behind us, we lost the man in another curve. We flew through the light, it turning red behind us, and we turned into the Wal*Mart parking lot. Finally, we lost the man.
    We waited in the parking lot to see if the red car would appear and turn to where we were. He never did, so we supposed he turned at the stoplight.

    This whole 'ordeal', I think, would not have been scary if it weren't for the look on the man's face. His eyes were locked with Dad's, but didn't seem to register any emotion. Indeed, it didn't seem to register any life at all; I would think he were dead had he not been driving. Perhaps he was on some sort of narcotic? I'm not sure. I'm just glad we didn't have to confront him.

    So, how creepy was that?

-fin-

Perspective

Thu, 29 Mar 2007 21:52:21 GMT

    There are a number of ways to write a story when it comes to perspective. There are, of course, the basic point of views to choose from first; third person (outside looking in view), second person (rarely used except in interactive novels), and the first person (memoir style). I find myself using the first person more and more; I can't seem to escape it.
    Within those three point of views there are various ways to present perspective.

Limited - "Over the shoulder"; pretty much allowing the reader to see only what the main protagonist experiences and thinks. However, the author may sometimes shift the narration from one character to another.

Omniscient - "God Mode"; this is when the narration goes into any of the characters actions, feelings, thoughts, and experiences. This is the more historical fiction type, used in the sagas and fairy tales of old. It is complete narrative freedom.

Objective - "Lawyer"; this is like Omniscient, only it shows only action and speech, never anything going on inside the characters. Some people mix this with Limited, allowing for an objective over the shoulder experience.

    Generally, the above really only apply to third person. Both first and second person views will pretty much be limited to the main character, though some stories have the majority of the story as first person, but then switches to third person for certain events (such as a grand battle or a piece of background story).

    I am locked in first person mode; it just seems the simplest way to write to me. This makes sense; I've been writing in first person for the longest time on Xanga. It is natural this personal narrative style will also appear in my fictional works. Sometimes, though, I wish I could get out of this mode so that I can write a complex story with many characters in the Omniscient mode; sort of like a story with many stories intertwined within it. I would even include a first person perspective at some point for one of the characters, one that is seriously involved in the main plot, but have whole sections of side story that he or she isn't involved with be told in a third person view. (Objective may be better for this than Omniscient, so that the reader only really knows of the main characters feelings, keeping it intimate).

    My short stories always end up long, so I really think my natural progression as a writer will end up in novel sized works. Laziness and lack of motivation are my two main foils (writing pun) in this endeavor, however, as most of the writing I do these days is simply because I have to turn something into my creative writing class. I need to kick laziness in the ass; I've been suffering from it since High School (when I decided to simply stop trying), and is probably the last visage of any sort of baggage left over from my youth.

    As soon as I redraft the short story I wrote for class, 'Upon a Sea of Stars', using my peer's and my professor's feedback, and send it out to a magazine and receive some sort of response (the only thing I will be disappointed with is no response; a rejection slip will at least mean I was noticed), I will try and ready myself to develop ideas for a novel (or use old recycled ideas) and try to motivate myself to work on it everyday. If this is going to be my chosen occupation, I need to start treating it like a job; I need a schedule, and I need to try to keep it.

    There really is nothing I would like better to do with my career than to write.

-fin-

Q, Arrrrrr, S, T, U, V...

Mon, 19 Mar 2007 18:11:14 GMT

Well, it certainly has been a bit of time since I posted on this piece of the internet, hasn't it? Truth is, I've been using my Xanga mostly, as I have always done.

    So...update update update....
    I am moving to Lexington in May, after school lets out. Like...the day after. If things go well, I will be living with Nancy and her friend Bre until Bre moves in August, then it'll be just Nancy and I. A worse circumstance would be Nancy's current roomie not being able to find a replacement, so I'd have to live with Bre until Nancy's lease is up. That would just be sorta... awkward.

    I am quite excited about the move. I will be taking a full-boat schedule of online classes both summer sessions before I return to UK in the Fall, and I should hopefully be about where I would be if I hadn't screwed up.

    I will miss Ashland, surely, but I know it's time to move. Things are getting on edge around here. I just really feel it is time to grab the ol' hobo stick and strike it out on my own.

    I will looking for a job in Lexington soon. I hope I can get on at a used bookstore, if it needs some summer help...

-fin-

Lost

Mon, 05 Feb 2007 09:36:56 GMT

I am participating, thanks to Adam Ranjo, in an online 'phenomena' I suppose you could call it. It's a 'game'. The point of the game is to get as many people as you can to play the game, earning points in doing so. You give out a link, and when people join with this invite link you get their points. Also, when they invite a person with their link, you gain a half a point.
    This project is headed by University students, to see if they can reach 7 million. The top 9 players will be given a prize of cash when the game has reached 7 million players. I think if they succeed, this will also go in the Guinness book of World Records.

    Anyway, if you wanna play, here's my link...

www.lost.eu/19faa

    I've heard of other such games as these, though those were rather filled with advertising and spyware. This one seems clean enough, and would be a neat thing to be a part of.

    My brother is moving in with his fiancee`, like I will be doing this May.

-fin-

Writ in a Substance Crimson like Blood and Warm like Sunlight

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 07:45:12 GMT

    Stephen King once wrote in his autobiographical essay of the writing craft that there are two types of writers. One type is the inflective, she who writes for herself. The other is the entertainer, she who writes for others. The first writes for purposes of an almost meditative quality; to better reach into the recesses of herself. The entertainer, rather, is expanding, wanting to share a piece of herself with others.
    I believe writers are generally a mix of both, with one usually being predominant. Like those writers who sought to understand the meaning of life and share it with others, like Ralph Waldo Emerson, or those who had some bearing of their inner wisdom and used it to entertain, such as Jane Austen.
    Myself, I have come to the conclusion that I am the second sort. I do write inflectively, and I do so for philosophical reasons, but I love sharing what I write more than anything. I dare say I may love it more than writing itself, which is itself quite a thing to say if anyone knows how much I love to write. I've realized this while 'blogging' on my Xanga. I am hungry for comments, and my will to write on that blog is really affected by the amount of comments I get. Sure, I love to explore the recesses of myself, but I like to do this to share it with other people, mostly to see if I can interest or entertain someone long enough to read the whole thing.
    I've always wanted to be known as a storyteller rather than a philosopher. Although I respect the latter, and I love studying philosophy, it is the road of the storyteller that always engulfs my heart with a deep yearning to tell somebody... something. Really, if I could tell people about the weather in an entertaining way, you would definitely see a lot more posts about meteorology.
    Of course, on the livejournal, I think I write less for comments than I do on my Xanga. Here I oft do write more inflectively for the sake of the self-reflection, and my posts are therefore less ranty and generally more gentle.

    I do hope I am something of the first sort of writer, but it is the second sort that I pursue.

-fin-

Sigh of Relief

Thu, 18 Jan 2007 20:49:26 GMT

Edit; Yeah... I screwed up totally. That article was from like a year ago.

Silver Lining

Thu, 11 Jan 2007 20:12:02 GMT

(Also to be posted on Xanga, MySpace, and Facebook.)
Every dark cloud has silver lining. The tempest I have emerged myself within due to lack of motivation and general apathy on my part is no exception.

I am currently enrolled in KCTCS, the local associates college ( a satellite campus of Morehead), with a major in English. All of my classes (except one) for this semester, and the next two summer sessions, will be completely online. Upon finishing the second summer session, I should have my associates in English.

There is a program that KCTCS does called 'block transfer'. When I transfer back to UK in the Fall, instead of having to translate the credits (UK is notorious for screwing people on transfers), my entire degree will be transferred, and I would start where anyone else with an associates at UK would start in their degree. No retaking classes because of transfer problems at all. Good deal, huh?

And since the entirety of my classes are online, I can still move to Lexington at the beginning of the summer into an apartment with my future wife, Nancy. I'd still be going to my local school (pretty much), but living in Lexington.

Also, on a side note, because of my ACT score and my financial aid needs, I was awarded 3,000 dollars in Financial Aid. Only half of that went towards school. The rest of that goes to me. :-)

Anyway, this is a sort of check-up I suppose. How are all of you?

-fin-

Board.

Wed, 27 Dec 2006 23:53:27 GMT

I'm so bored.

I'm not made out of wood.

Reflect

Sun, 10 Dec 2006 04:10:58 GMT

It was cold. The frozen ground was almost painful to her bare feet as she walked up the stone steps. The wind blew, howling like a wayward spirit. She could hardly see, but that didn't matter. Memory more than sight guided her now.
    The top of the stairs came into view, and with it the maw of a small cave. It was a thankful respite from the chill wind when she reached the opening, and she took a moment to rest her weary body against the inside wall. Her eyes scanned the cave, and they finally stopped to rest on a circle of stones in the middle.
    The circle surrounded a pool of crystal water, as still as glass. She slid from her place on the stone wall, and crawled to the reflecting pool.
    She saw herself in the reflection. An old lady, graying hair and wrinkled face, with lines around her mouth that came from no smile. Her eyes, however, were the same as they were when she came to this place forty years before. Blue, bright, and unwavering.
    She sighed, lowering her head to the ground. She wept.

    Look at yourself as if you were a mirror. Who are you? If someone around you was asked about you, how would they respond? Do you even know?

    I am Patrick McGill.
    I come from a lower-working class family in Ashland, Ky. I have lived in over ten different houses in my entire life. I was exceptional in school until High school; and then I did mediocre. This mediocrity still plagues me at college. I want to be a writer, but I never write. I am pursuing an English major, but due to my mediocrity I do not know if I'll even finish college.
    I am engaged to Nancy Louise Chenault, to be married when we both have graduated from college. She will accomplish this much sooner than I will, though we are in the same year.
    I regularly do not have any money. Even when I work, that money goes to a bank where it is then given to college; a college I don't know if I will graduate from.
    I do not find myself exceptional at anything except making things up. I have no motivation, and am plagued by a laziness that I refuse to accept responsibility of (even though it is my fault), and regularly think about how good my life could be rather than pursuing that goal.
    I have an interest in religion because I want to believe in God and something more than a mundane existence. I have an interest in the occult because it's more interesting than canonical religion.
    I would rather play a video game than accomplish something worthwhile.

    I am a very happy person, despite (or because of) all of this. I do not pine, I do not mope, and I will not give up. Any changes to the above will happen because I make them happen. Even if I never change anything; at least I know that I can.

    When you think of yourself; have you accomplished anything worthwhile? Do people like you? Have you left a mark on anyone's lives, or have you been the simple passing of a gentle breeze?

    Sometimes we have to look at ourselves from the outside. This way, we can understand why people react the way they do to us. This also helps us gain a better self-image; one denied of egocentrism.

-fin-

P.S:

LOOK AT THAT PLANT! IT'S SO PRETTY.

Certain People

Sat, 09 Dec 2006 20:47:44 GMT

    Certain people can sometimes be so annoying with their top hats and golden fobs. I mean, seriously, stop bragging about how much better you are than me simply because you can make a donkey climb downstairs. I'm tired of these certain people who's only joy in life is stabbing Ethiopian Desert Snow Monkey's in the tail. It's all so infuriating.

    When I come home at night and get online and see people dancing naked around a statue of Jerkjjylian, well, I mean, it proverbially chaps my ass. Certain people need to just loosen up, turn on a Gunther Mix CD, and pee freely into the wind.

    I'll just say this, when I am bathing in a tub full of candy corn, I won't be complaining.

-fin-

Kitsune and the Highwayman, part II

Wed, 06 Dec 2006 00:25:19 GMT

Alright! Here are the story elements, coupled by the person's name/sn, and my opinion of said element. I will be combining the answers I got on Xanga and Live Journal, to make it look like I know a lot of people.

fullmetalacimist - Gives us the story element of no 'absolute' good or evil. Given the perspective of someone (he uses the very good example of the song 'Ice and Fire'), the reader does tend to side with the vision they are given. This is a very good story element; always realize what motivates every character, antagonist or not. You will find that more often than naught, antagonist does not mean 'evil'.

unicornburger (Shauna) - She likes inner dialogue and personal narrative. I agree completely. One of my favorite authors, Gene Wolfe, always writes with a 'unreliable' first person narrative style; a very fun read and also very stylish. It is true, when a story is told from the first person, it is easier to convey the thoughts and feelings of the protagonist. However, this narrative type also handicaps the author's supposed 'omniscience'.

Carate - She presents us with the archetype of the 'little' hero; the character that is the 'underdog' coming out on top, like the mouse who helps the lion and etc. I am very fond of this character type as well. In the Redwall book series, one of the main elements is a peaceful and weak animal having to defend itself from a larger and more violent vermin. This sort of story is likeable I suppose because it gives off a sense of hope; but also it is interesting because it is something out of the ordinary.

Manker - He likes stories that involve some mystery and overall ignorance of the readers, the type of story that is fun to guess what is happening but nothing is revealed until the end. Oh, the times spent at the lunch table, trying to figure out the conclusion to Harry Potter, eh? I enjoy this story element because it gives the author a totally new way to work; by being conservative on what you write, rather than giving everything away. 'Less is more', I suppose.

Howard - Howard likes dystopia. I certainly hope he means the kind found in stories, and not the oppressive societies found in our real world. But hey, some people like strange things. Dystopia is the antithesis of a 'Utopian' society, and examples can be found in 1984 and Jennifer Government. These stories are usually allegorical in nature, presenting a point that is meant to be found, and not one that is generally interpreted in more than one way. Ray Bradbury also wrote some of these, and he is probably my favorite short story writer. I've never even thought about writing a story like this, though I do think it would be an interesting exercise.

Emma - Emma likes anthropomorphic symbolism in stories. Again, refer to Redwall. This sort of story usually involves an animal with human qualities, or animals that play a human role. She referred to Russian Fairy Tales as a good source, and I would concur, only adding the rest of the world on there as well. There is definitely a primal want for human like animals in stories. In the story I plan to write, the kitsune will also be able to appear as a human woman.

Jessica - She offered countless advice for the story, all very much appreciated. She reiterated the animal element, including such critters as Owls and Bats, which I do intend on including in the story. Also, she mentioned the Japanese tragedy, i/e: a love caught being supernatural, thus she/he flees. I also intend on including some elements of that in here as well.

***

    Thanks, everyone!

    So far, my idea for the story takes place on a highway on the way to London in the early 19th Century. The highwayman, who I have not named, stops a carriage of a wealthy noble, who has with him a woman of the East, whom the noble refers to as 'moon woman'. The highwayman takes a liking to her, and so decides to take her hostage and hold her for ransom, for she is obviously valuable to the noble. After riding off with her on his horse, however, she slips off and runs into the forest. Stopping his horse, the highwayman gives pursuit!
    He finds her in a clearing, where she stops and turns around. Her hands go to her kimono, and so the highwayman stops. She undoes the ties and begins to draw it off; and it is at this point that she becomes the fox, and again flees. The highwayman follows in wonderment, chasing it into a small cave that lies beneath a large tree in a rock face. The tunnel goes for awhile, and suddenly emerges in a forest; only this forest is strange to the highwayman, and the moon glows on it, casting the trees in a wraithlike light. He suddenly sees the fox-woman on an uphill path, and gives chase.

    So, as you may have guessed, the kitsune has led the highwayman to a place referred to in archetypal standards as the 'fey realm' or 'perilous realm', which in all worldwide folklore refers to a supernatural place outside of the human comfort zone. Here the man will come across magical beings and people, all the while searching obsessively for the beautiful moon woman who turned into a fox.

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The kitsune and the highwayman

Mon, 04 Dec 2006 23:46:38 GMT

A kitsune is a Japanese fox spirit or demon. They are usually shapechangers, able to change to a human form; usually that of a beautiful woman. In all the Japanese tales, these fox sprites play a variety of roles, from malicious to benevolent, but usually falling somewhere in the middle with trickery.

(A real kitsune, a Japanese subspecies of the red fox. They are considered sapient and as spirits in Japanese folklore.)

A highwayman is a bandit or robber who frequents 'highways', or highly used roads, and robs from carriages and other passerby. There is a very romantic quality associated with the highwayman, similar to that of the pirate. This image presents him as a masked man of grace, good manner, and excellent swordsmanship.

The story I wish to write will involve these two elements. I like this idea, because it combines folklore from the east with romanticism of the west.

***

Now, a question for YOU. I want everyone to post their favorite 'story element' of any choice. What part of some story you have read has directly appealed to you? I'd like to hear everyone's ideas, for it may help me with my story. My next post after this will list everybody's name and story element, and what I think about that certain element. Unless, of course, I don't get very many comments. Good luck!

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Zen and Ink

Wed, 29 Nov 2006 16:14:21 GMT

Last summer I studied a man named Miyamoto Musashi. What I knew about him before I began to study him was the following;

    He was a samurai, undefeated in all 60 or so matches he fought.
    Halfway through his life as a warrior, he stopped using a real sword so that he would not kill his opponents.
    He was pretty much a BAMF.

    After the summer, however, my knowledge of this remarkable man greatly increased. He was a zen-follower, for one, and disliked the Shinto and Bushido principles common to other Samurai. My favorite thing about him, however, was his artistic and poetical abilities. Because of what I had studied of him, my interest in a form of Japanese India ink painting, called suibokuga, took a fanatical hold. One only uses a simple brush and an ink stone, creating a monochrome image with emptiness as a main focus. Usually such paintings involve scenes of nature or Buddhism. I've always wanted to try my hand at this form of painting; mainly because of its meditational (I think I made that word up) value. I will show some examples;

    Most of those above are Musashi's own works, though he used his artist name, Niten, to sign them. Musashi compared the brush strokes to that of a sword, because once done the ink was irreversible; therefore one had to concentrate and make sure each stroke meant something. Wasted ink was definitely not the sign of a true Zen artist.

    I like this technique, and will look into finding the materials to begin studying it. I also like his paintings of the happy monk, Heido (I think), and would like to make some of my own. I like big jolly wise men.

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Out With it, They Say

Mon, 13 Nov 2006 08:39:05 GMT

Alright, if they say so, I shall be 'out with it'. Nancy and I are indeed engaged. We've planned on having a long engagement before this, but I never 'popped' the question as they say. Every proposal has a story behind it, and I'll try to be honest. What you may read may not sound 'romantic' or anything, but I thought it was perfect, and apparently so did she.

    Things to clear up; I did not get her a new ring. We plan on getting the promise ring I gave her, a hand-made gold ring from Ireland, inset with an emerald. She doesn't know it yet, but I'll be the one paying for it.

    Pretty much, after her party, we were lying in bed about to go to sleep. We talked about things. Finally, I touched the ring on her right hand, and said;

"Nancy?"

"Yeah?"

I tried to look all cool and romantic. I've learned it looks a lot easier in the movies.

"I promise."

She looked at me for a second, very quizzically. Then, I could see the understanding dawn on her as her eyes widened and her mouth opened.

"Y-you...what?"

After a little bit, I climbed out of bed and onto the floor, on one knee, and took the ring off of her right hand, and put it on her left.

I think she cried, but I can't remember.

I do know, however, that her answer was a definite yes, even if I couldn't understand what she was saying.

    Anyway, it may not sound like a big 'magical' evening, but I'm glad I did ask her. It seems as if I have let go of some weight, and that is odd. We plan on marrying after we have both obtained some sort of degree from college, to insure that the family we make together has some financial foundation. I, being an English major, may find that this foundation may turn out to be very thin. Ah well.

    She told her mother about it, and her brother. Soon her whole family will know. I will tell my family over Thanksgiving; it will be a lot easier to convey my feelings face to face rather than over the phone. I'm sure they'll be very excited; they always are about these sort of things.

    Anyway, I hope this answers any questions. It certainly has been a forum to show the pride I have in my relationship. Things have been far easier, far better, and far happier than I could have ever thought. And, to think, it all started with a jab in the side.

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Holy Roller, part deux

Fri, 03 Nov 2006 16:19:34 GMT

Some people cry a river,
but never see the other side.
Some people bow down broken,
and end up swallowed by the tide.
You, me,
no we won't back down.
Let all the others wait,
I want someday, someway, right now.

Paul Stanley - Where Angels Dare

    Someone let me borrow the new Paul Stanley (front man, vocalists, and rhythm guitarist of Kiss) solo album. I must say that I am very impressed. Gene's newest solo album, A**Hole, kind of sucked because he tried too hard to be original. Paul was always the best Kiss songwriter, so it was no surprise that his solo album would be written beautifully. Anyway, I enjoy it. On to other things...

    I met with the Episcopalian priest on Wednesday. She was... not what I expected at all. She was a very goofy, extremely good natured, and gratuitously nerdy woman. Most of the time we spent talking wasn't really religious in the least bit. Although what she said about religion was very inspiring. I mentioned to her that Episcopalianism was very open from what I've seen, and she snorted and quipped;
    "I should hope so! Jesus was open, too, I think, at least, that's what I've learned from studying the bible..."
    Anyway, she told me when classes were at their church, and invited me for service at any point. They have three every Sunday, depending on your leisure. The two later ones are normal hymn services, but the early morning one is a completely-spoken Elizabethan English poetic service. It starts at 7:45, though...so I think I'm going to the 9:00 one.
    It seems like it's going to be an interesting experience. Perhaps I have finally found a church to belong too? I hope so.

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To Think

Mon, 30 Oct 2006 04:20:36 GMT

"Welcome to the real world,"
she said to me,
condescendingly.
Take a seat,
take your life.
Plot it out in black and white.

I never lived the dream of the prom kings,
and the drama queens.
I'd like to think the best of me,
is still hiding up my sleeve.

I'd love to tell you,
stay inside the lines.
But something's better,
on the other side.

John Mayer

    This weekend was a lot of fun. I went to a Halloween party hosted by the family of my friend Jessica Bookout. The party itself was interesting, as were the people there, but my favorite parts of the weekend were the surprisingly unremarkable ones. Waking up in the morning and drinking a good cup of coffee while speaking softly with friends is highly underrated.
    The party took place in a hidden place in Louisville, called Ivanhoe Court. Upon entering that road, you enter a whole other world. There is no street, really, just a sidewalk going between the front of the houses, making it very cozy and away from the rest of the world. The trees were magnificent, and squirrels were hopping and playing joyfully among the foliage that still remained in the wooden giants. I cannot say that any place has drawn from me such a sense of comfort in a long time. Even the house was cozy, and I believe we were all loathe to leave. It reminded me of my own house, nye-forgotten in the college rush, and of my own family.
    Something about this weekend has also made me step back, and evaluate my own station in the world. I cannot say that I have ever lived in a 'comfortable' neighborhood; always living in the 'bad' part of town can hardly be anyone's, except perhaps a mental masochist's, idea of a comfortable setting.
    When I am out of college, and married, such a neighborhood as that is the sort in which I want to bring up my kids. Do other such gems of peace exist in our world? Probably; in order to find one's sweetest treasure, one needs only to look.
    Two more days, and I get to meet and drink coffee with an Episcopalian Priest. A couple of more months, and Christmas Break, and finally a new year will come. This year has probably been one of the best of my life, I must say, and I will be sad to see it go. I suppose I'll just have to make the most of the one's to come, eh?

    (Och, look at that. I feel like I'm fifty years old.)

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Proposed Schedule for the Spring Term.

Sat, 28 Oct 2006 12:08:01 GMT

CLA - 102 001 MTWF 10:00-10:50 AM (Latin 1.5)
ENG - 230 009 TR        11:00-12:15 PM (Introduction to Literature)
AST - 191 001 MWF      1:00-1:50   PM (Planets and the Solar System)
PHI - 120 017 TR          3:30-4:20    PM (Logic)
                          W        11:00-11:50 AM
ENG - 207 004 M          3:00-5:30    PM (Beginning Workshop for Imaginative Writing : Fiction)

    I am very excited about that last class... Two and a half hours of writing fiction!

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Goodbye Habeus Corpus

Thu, 26 Oct 2006 13:54:00 GMT

Read this.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_Commissions_Act_of_2006

"Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety."
-Benjamin Franklin

    Congratulations America, you let this one slide on past. We're all to blame for this. We voted those people in. You, and I. You know what? Hitler was voted in too.

    Let's see where this leads, shall we?

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