15min_Snow Dancing

I started doing a fifteen minute daily free-write. Perhaps it would be nice to share some of them.

The penguins and the kangaroos were boundin and a banging around in the north cold. The penguin talking to the Roo was like shoo, you new yew. Show yo bro your toe. A pace, a sec, a millisec went by and the Roo kicked the PenGuin in the beak. The Guin bounced back with a flop . He flipped, and he flopped, and he danced, hither and whither, a soft spitter and spatter, along the crystallized snow, and the face of the bro, the Gorilla: It started to become all aglow. “Let me try that.” He boomed. “You sure should” Bounced the boasting Kanga, bounding along the whispy snow. “It’s mighty right fun.”

Boom Boom Boom Crack crack creak. Poor Gorilla. A little too much rock in his bones. Each pound zoomed through the soft layer of snow and rattled the ice underneath. The ground began to shake and split. A Creak and a crack. “Oh no!!“ Squeaked the Guin. He stopped pattling along. The Roo stopped aboundin. But old Rilla. He had no clue what was ahappening and kept right along pounding the ground to his own little tune. Soon. Penny Guin found himself jigging along on the soft wispy snow in fright, squeaking in soft concern, being on a soft white island in the flowing rivers of blue around him. Still Rilla pounded, Boom Boom Boom. Crack Crack Crack. All the while, the yelling of Kangaroo begging Gorilla to stop played on in the background. But oh, it wasn’t until Kangaroo’s yelling drowned into a gurgle as the hopper slipped into the frozen sea, with his big toes bobbing up in the water. But it was too late. Two cracks creaked between the Gorilla’s legs. Two islands dragged his legs further apart. He was promised a fun little dip in moments. Even the General Giraffe , who was quietly minding his own business, sun-tanning in the corner, found himself with a impending date with hypothermia. The ivy snow cracks slid under his towel and began pulling the pieces out. The whale saved everyone.

NaNoWriMo Report.

I bet most of you (if any) are wondering. How’s my story going? Well…Truthfully, it’s not. I dropped all the scarves juggling. Doesn’t mean there’s nothing productive to be thankful for. Just because a bird falls from the nest the first time, doesn’t mean he won’t fly. What I do have of the story is epic and slowly the rest will trail along. So, for those of you believing in me thank you and don’t stop.

Here's an excerpt. Remember: It's a rough draft.

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” The goldfish said.

“Oh. Um. I’m William.”

The goldfish gasped! Flowing backwards, his mouth swung wide open.

“The William?”

“Um. William. Yeah. I guess so. I’m talking to a goldfish cracker?”

“The William? The hero that has been foretold through the tides to defeat the windy demon? My dear friend if I had fins I would shake your hand!”

“What? No! Demon? What? I’m no hero!! Get away from me! I’m just looking for my cousin. She ran ashore just now.” Will said brushing off the bustling cracker swirling around his head excitedly. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by dozens and dozens of cheesy crackers nudging up against him, all shrieking excitedly with shrill voices. William waved his arms around like a madman, desperately trying to shake them off. Frantically he grabbed one. He plopped it in his mouth. Crunch. The fish gasped. The shrieking stopped. There was a moment of shock. Then, in unison the crackers turned red. Cheese red. Suddenly, William found himself dolphin kicking ferociously away from a school of murderous goldfish crackers.

For the Veterans

There is something about living for a greater cause that makes life worth living.

A while back my little brother commented on a conversation we had about the movie Bodyguards and Assassins.

"You're right. I'm.doing a paper on Gandhi and assassination is one of the biggest compliments" He posted.  

In my deep way, I responded:

 

"It's more than that. True- The fact that he died for such a cause showed the world that such a cause is worth more than life itself- therefore I can't think of a better confirmation of something's worth than martyrdom. Look at Saving Private Ryan. Look at how touched Ryan was. But it goes beyond that. The second we discover that something is worth more than ourselves we start thinking about the ways we can use our death to serve that cause. 911. Leave it to humans to discover the power of one's own death. 

Even greater and more powerful is when one figures out how to use their life for a greater cause. One's life has so much more to give than one's death. In fact, one's life is truly a frightening force to reckon with. Now when life and death are both used for the sake of a cause-- that is true martyrdom. And that kinda power is just plain scary."

While they may not be Gandhi's (or Gumby's--only the greatest character ever!=P), these people are using both lives and deaths to serve America. People like them have been the driving force behind America rocking the world from foundation day. For all that they've done. Thank you.

Bottom of Form

Belief

Last Friday, 11/4/11

I saw a Knight’s Tale again.

It inspired this epic conclusion

I'd been pondering for a while:

My life shall be my canvas,

My art shall be my lance

And with the emblem of God,

I shall change the stars.

And in doing so, the sky will be more beautiful

than it ever was.

That is the American dream.

Believe.

When we achieve our dreams, nay, when we pursue our dreams

We change the world around us for the better.

It is an American responsibility, then, for everyone

to achieve their dreams and make the world a better place.

Saturday 10/29/11

This past Saturday I took an amazing class lead by David Liss over at Gemini Ink. There he handed us many tools on the best way to survive NaNoWriMo. Funny thing is, many of the things he told us, I was already doing the opposite.

---“Never do a Dream sequence. ”

The premise of my story.

---“Stay away from writing about yourself. It adds an extra layer of work.”

Apart from my senior thesis, I have never written a story so close to myself.

---“Writing takes work.”

Between dancing, juggling two jobs and searching for a third, it is going to a take lot of prioritizing and discipline to find the time to write the necessary amount.

Why do I always choose the hardest assignments? Just once, I want to choose an easy story about a frog.

So, the story I am planning on writing is about a preteen kid who never dreams. Then one night, his father tells him that the reason he never dreams is because he is scared to do so. But he should dream, because who knows what awesome things he is missing. Sure enough, that night William has the most epic dream of his life, he hunts down the demon from his past and just before he kisses a girl, he wakes up. According to Liss, the problem with the dream sequence is that there is nothing at stake. I am planning on placing the entire fate of the dream world in the hands of this one kid. The goal is to vamp up the craziness, and the awesomeness, like Kingdom of Hearts, The Matrix, or a Knights Tale. At the end of the novel, I want two reactions--Whoa and awesome.

Who believes I can successfully finish my draft?

Thursday 10/27/11

To show the magic of the world, allow me to relay the events of last Thursday evening. Originally I planned to go straight from work to blues at Trinity University. However, I got out of work an hour early. So I went to Trinity University whereupon I locked my keys and my jacket in the car. Whoop-de-do. So to escape the freezing wind, I found myself inside, where I met a lovely lady at the front desk and heard all about her coming trip to Australia. The smile on her face was magic enough. I called AAA, and a series of unforeseen coincidences led me straight to Trinity Review’s Scary Story Contest!! Up till now, as former Chair of PR, I had no idea it was going on!!! So I went and enjoyed that event, listening to some hardcore, awe inspiring readings.

After a pleasant chat with the AAA guy, I meandered over to the Swashbuckler hall. (The Swashies are a pirate loving community hall I had been heavily involved with). Turns out they were hard at work polishing the details the night before Friday’s event, the annual Swashbuckler Haunted Hall. After a visitation with them, I went blues dancing. Blues is always magical.

After the dance, me and a friend walked out towards our car. I started talking about the works at the Scary Story Contest, my goals to write the next Great American Novel, and my goal to complete NaNoWriMo. He shrugs in his wizardly fashion. (I’m not sure whether he appreciates this comparison, but with the trench coat, frizzy hair and warm, knowledgeable smile, a wizard never looked more like a wizard). Turns out the wizard has done NaNoWriMo a multitude of times, and plans to do it again. That night, on Facebook I wrote: “Proof of magic in the world: locked keys in the car turn out to be a blessing and God keeps nudging me in the write direction.”