Sunday, December 16, 2012
On my sister-blog (I guess) you know, the fictional one, where I am writing from the perspective of Nora Greene, on the ship called the Zephyr IV? ...Yeah that one.
You haven't even looked at it, have you?
Ah, whatever. Either way, I have posted three new updates there, so go on and read them from the beginning to get yourself acquainted with the story! (And remember - read them in ORDER!)
Go Read Zephyr IV: Travel Logs!!
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Do you ever peer out the window while you're driving, and wonder what it would be like to live in that nice house on the corner? The victorian with the wrap around porch and the chimney, and the woodpile in the backyard? How about the small cottage with the 3x3 balcony on the second floor, with just enough room for the door to swing open and a view of the woods on the side of the house? Oh, how about the cute blue two-story with the stairs on the side, and a screened in porch on the second floor, with the roomy back yard and the swing-bench?
Do you ever wonder how nice it would be to be normal?
Yeah, me niether...
Friday, November 30, 2012
I did not actually FINISH the novel. I did reach my November goal though! Therefore I am setting another goal for myself, which I am publicly displaying here so you can police me. (hehe).
FINISH the story (in rough draft form) by New Years!!!
Yay! Wish me luck!
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Who has decided to join me? I know of two people who have dared the perilous slopes of WriMountain, and their company (Though distant and cyber-imagined) has been a boon to my efforts!
Keep up the good work, guys!!!
But who else? It isn't QUITE too late yet! You just have to pump out about 10,000 wordsabout by the end of the day! No sweat, right?
I have reached 3,606!!
How about you?
Saturday, September 22, 2012
First things first - Who wants a cat?
Allow me to explain. My Land Lady has forbidden pets of any kind. And I mean, of any kind. I am not allowed to have cats or dogs of any size - nor am I allowed to have rodents, reptiles, fish, snails, hampsters, birds or amphibians. Nada.
I can respect her wishes.
However, one evening as my love and I were out inhaling poisonous smoke, this delightful little creature spotted us from across the street. We sat on the steps and watchedas it quickly crossed the two lanes of very possible immediate death, and trotted up to our stoop. My Love, lacking the same alergies that I do, immediately investigated this creature, attempting to assess if it was friendly. He reached ouit a hand, maybe two or three inches hovering over the little thing's head, and without warning or reservation, the darling firmly 'bonked' her head into his palm.
Naturally, we were delighted with this antic. I abandoned my concerns with sniffling, sneezing and itching, and proceeded to test the limitations of the 'bonking' phenomenon. Five inches above her head - she 'bonked' it. Three inches to the left, and yes, it was 'bonked'. A foot above her, and she picked herself up and did the cute little hobble-walk 'bonk'. She took an immediate shine to us, and us to her, and when we were done clowning around, she trotted off, and we went back inside.
Now she visits us almost every night.
I think my heart is breaking. Her coat is clean, she has no bugs, and she's one of the loviest, sweetest little kitties I have ever met.
So firstly - Who wants a cat?
Sunday, September 9, 2012
International Housekeeping Week has officially begun! This year it's even easier because we only have 6 housekeeping staff members to really worry about! w00t!
...At least for this week it's a good think. By next Sunday I'm sure those sentiments will turn into woes and pain. Short staffed is never a fun time of year. So I hope that presenting gifts, food, and decoration will help lift the moods of everyone during this stressful time.
How is everyone elses September starting out? Good? Bad? ... Ugly?
Saturday, August 25, 2012
In any case, Now I'm trying to prep for November - the True NaNoWriMo! I want to finish up my last one at least to a point where I could arguably call my November project a sequal. That way I can have a vague train of thought. It seemed to work out for me last year, so what the hey!
So NOW I am going to prep all of you people out there - I've given plenty of notice. I've prefaced enough.
Who is going to join me in NOVEMBER for NaNoWriMo!?
C'mon, don't chicken out! Be strong! Buckle down! Harden that backbone! Be Literally Insane with me in November!
WHO'S WITH ME!??
Thursday, August 2, 2012
You see, I feel that I have worked very hard to get to where I am now. I have struggled as is my due, and I feel that I have perservered through some very classic hardships. And now with one foot firmly on the edge of this mountainside, and both hands preventing a rockslide that would crush me, here I stand.
And of course - I look back.
What is the point in struggling if you can't see how much you have accomplished? Fears assail me at each glance - what if I haven't even mored from the base of this mountain? What if the ground has crumbled behind me and all my efforts were for nothing? what If I am farther up the cliff then I thought? Will I get vertigo and fall? What about if I slip?
The avalanche is smaller then it sounds, but there is still weight resting on my shoulders as I fidget beneath it. My footholds are secure, for the moment, but how long will that last? My options feel as if they are only 1.) withstand the barrage from above and then move on, or 2.) run back down this mountain with the avalanche in tow, hoping to beat it to the ground.
Then again, there is the third option - dive to the side and grab hold of that lone, scraggly little tree on the side of the rocks and let the Avalanche pass me with little detriment.
....At that point I think I should invest in rope.
Friday, July 20, 2012
It's funny how much I missed it!
it is also funny how much more friendly people are when you work the front desk at this time then when you work housekeeping in the morning. (hm.)
I also find it funny just how insane things can be when you take a day off. Or when you don't come in at your usual time. Why is it exactly that everything goes to hell in a handbasket when the supervisor isn't around. Why can't people just do their job and go home?
Rant complete. My apologies.
In any case - Who else is finding their lives to be more bizarre then they intended?
Thursday, July 19, 2012
I made it to 41,000 words before I passed out at my keyboard.
Ah well. Now, however, I have a project that I am fascinated with! And, instead of beginning a new project for the months of July and August, I will FINISH the project I set out on last month!
I can't exactly guage my progress - but I shall try!!!
Wish me luck! Again!
Friday, June 29, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
So, upon the very informative e-mail I received from the office of letters and lights - IE those fabulous people who brought you NaNoWriMo - They are doing ANOTHER NaNoWriMo, officially called Camp NaNoWriMo for the month of June!
Because I am so horrendously busy this time of year I did give myself a tiny head start on the fiction I am working on, but my own personal goal will thus be higher. EDIT: Unfortunately to avoid the Guilt Monkeys, I will be starting this one from scratch. So a regular 50k it is!
I present to you: CAMP NANOWRIMO!
It is to the traditional 50,000 words by the end of JUNE!
I invite all of you to join me and have a blast being fanatical, anxious, absolutely insane writery-people!
Let the games Begin! (In 8 days, of course.)
Monday, April 23, 2012
No. I don't know why.
Chapter 1: In which I, Taslin Farcrier, set the scene.
The Shaman found me traveling alone. It was spring, and the lands were still healing from the disaster of the Cataclysm and the horrors of those dark times.
At the time, it was hard to believe that only two years prior, the land had been rife with Demons and abyssal creatures; vicious and blood thirsty. Perhaps because I chose to stick to the roads, I had not seen much of the destruction.
When I arrived in the small settlement of Misraeth, I noticed the charred lands and toppled buildings – but all of that was dwarfed by the spirit of rebirth and the highly enthusiastic people who were delightfully busy rebuilding their town.
One thing I did notice past the relieved elation of the people reconstructing their homes was their wariness. They cast searching glances at every new face that came and went, as if hoping to find something specific in their eyes. The way they did it confused me at first, before I had my many conversations with the shaman.
Some townsfolk searched as if cautiously seeking the face of a lost loved one, hope in the corners of their smiles and eyes alight with prayers.
Others, however, sought the faces of newcomers as if seeking for the face on a bounty post; their caution fueled by pain and anger. Those people sought faces of people to blame – thankfully I was not one of those faces.
Misraeth welcomed me with warmth. I received many questions about my scrollcase and the instrument I carried. Delighted as all bards are with the curiosities of their audiences, I indulged them with the reading of a poem, or a song strummed on my guitar.
For those brief entertainments, I, Taslin Farcrier, gained free room and board (exclusive of alcohol, of course,) and the pleasure of telling stories and singing songs to the tired townsfolk at the end of their busy days.
I had been staying in Misraeth for two days. Mainly because I was hoping for the downpour to stop. I adore traveling – but traveling in a storm is dangerous and unpleasant to say the least.
However, I also felt the desire to stay in town while the workers and families waited anxiously for clear weather. It was plain on their faces that they had a physical need to bring Misraeth to the way it had been two years ago, and this lapse in productivity did not sit well with them.
Seeing this with a sympathetic eye, I wished to help them ease through the troublesome weather with clever use of uplifting song and poem.
Their appreciation was heartwarming, and I had the distinct pleasure of dining with one particular family for mid-day meal during both of those days in the rain.
The man of the house was a well built older gentleman, around my father’s age in estimation. He was known as carpenter Raels, and he lived with two young women that he fancied as daughters. They were a few years my junior and very coy and pretty; in a fashion akin to cautious deer.
They were always hospitable and polite, and their food was compellingly home cooked and hearty.
But I digress.
I had been in Misraeth for two whole days. Each night I played a selection of songs and poems that I hoped would soothe or please them. I found it strange however, that I never got any requests; until of course, that third night at the Inn.
The rain poured down in gales. The usual patrons at the establishment took their time on the modest foyer to shake the rain off of their cloaks and jackets before drawing close to the hearth or settling in at the bar.
I played two lighthearted songs on my guitar before the winds and rain blew in yet another patron.
An unusual one at that.
Now, being a recorder and reciter of poems and tales, I tend to take note of the people I see, observe them in a sense. I imagined it was my duty to remember faces and people as easily as the poems I recited, in the hopes that one day we would meet again, or their would be the subject of my next great work.
What I saw was a lean, slight-of-build woman, beneath the thick, rumpled, travel-beaten cloak made of some animal’s wounded pelt. She had a dark, thick cowl draped about her shoulders and head, effectively hiding her face save for the delicate point of her chin and the thin, pale line of her lips.
She was leaning daintily on an elaborate walking-staff that looked like the gnarled root of an ancient tree. The opposite side of her was hidden beneath the furs, and seemed to be laden with weight. From the faint rustle and clatter that came when she moved towards a vacant table, I concluded that her belongings were safely tucked within the cloak with her.
I noticed something else then, as she walked. She cast an eerie shadow that seemed wreathed in a greenish glow. What was more curious as I studied it silently was that this green glow was coming from beneath the furs, gathering light at her feet.
The Inn became silent past my absent plucking on the guitar.
For some inexplicable reason, my first fear was that this strange woman was somehow going to start trouble. How she walked to the table – shoulders low and back curled forward as if still fighting against the wind; steps long and purposeful; the façade of frailty that was at first assumed by her posture. This woman held herself with strength – for regardless of her lean build and hunched shoulders, upon closer inspection, none of her movements spoke of frailty.
After I watched her sit – along with the other patrons, carefully watching – I came to another conclusion. This woman was being very mindful of us. She did not once look at the locals (or myself) throughout her arrival, but what caught me was how mindful she was of her staff. As she moved, she seemed to lean upon it, however, when it went to strike the ground it was as if she very purposefully tapped it as light as she could upon the floorboards, hindering any obtrusive noise.
I believed as well that the curve of her back and the hunch of her walk was an attempt to make herself seem as harmless as possible – which struck me as funny, seeing the enormous pelt that hung about her shoulders.
I remember chuckling out loud at the thought of this woman killing a beast that large, and changing songs. I began a melody that was fashioned to be relaxing and social, more of a background piece, in the hopes that activities would continue.
However, even with that attempt the tavern remained still and quiet. I was pointedly annoyed at first, nearly offended that my well-practiced method had failed – then of course I was astonished to find that all the patrons were still looking at this strange woman.
While the other patrons were still damp from their entrance out of the cold rains, attempting to dry themselves by the fire – this woman had not even left a damp footprint in her wake.
I cast my gaze quickly to the shuttered windows, and through the slats I could still see the rain pummeling the earth like thousands of angry fists.
As I turned to look back at the woman, curious now, I saw that she had removed her cowl in that short time. As I watched, she leaned back in her chair with a visible relief.
I must admit that in the moment I saw her face, my fingers stumbled on the strings of my guitar and I had to clumsily remember what part of the song I had been playing.
Luckily for me, that seemed to be the perfect Ice breaker, and the conversations quickly returned to the patrons at the Inn.
As I regained my composure, I fully absorbed the implications of her current state in such a downpour.
Thy mysterious woman and her furs were completely dry.
Monday, April 9, 2012
The Storm is every part of your life that isn't quite as you imagined it would be when you were a kid. It is every facet of you that you wish you could change, or just get rid of but are stuck with. It is every circumstance that is less then ideal or just plain catastrophe. It is every person you love but cannot tell, or who loves someone else, or hates your guts. It is everyone you hate who won't leave you alone, who are being obnoxious or rude, it it everyone who cuts you off in traffic, goes ahead of you in line, takes the last donut, drinks the last bit of coffee, or leaves their dishes around. It is everyone you wish you could be, everything you have been, every moent of glory taken and lost.
And yet - What is on the other side?
This is why we keep going. Because we have love as armor and grim determination as our shield. Because we have our wits and our savvy as our swords and Good friends as our plucky side-kicks.
So weather the storm. Do it. I dare you.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Like so many other times before, I have started yet another project.
As for the previous, unfortunately because of the limit to my online time, they are on a bit of a hiatus. I would deffinately like to continue the Zephyr IV project, I am enjoying that one a whole bunch. The online comic though? Well, I realize when things should be left well enough alone. The story could be fantastic, but the art? Well, I was no art major, that much ifs plain. I'll leave it up for now, doesn't hurt. I am anxiously awaiting the next NaNoWriMo, and thus am writing more in my spare time then I used to, which is good.
This other project is a first person perspectie tale of epic fantasy. (w00t.) This person is in fact relating the tale that another person told them - so its first person within first person. I am excited, and it is a lot of fun to write. I was thinking about posting up pieces of it, like a Serial version on my blog here, if you are at all interested!
SO please respond with your opinions about pre-reading the first draft of my latest project, as it is written! Yes or No? What shall the Oru do? It is up to YOU fair readers!
Friday, March 23, 2012
Maybe its just me, but I fancy that the air gets a bit lighter for the first bit, before the humidity steps in. The harsh, heavy curtain of winter has been thrown back! Fresh air is pouring in and the chill is being banished from our bones!
Regardless of the pains and aches in my legs and bones and joints and muscles, I walk outside and feel the cool breeze, and taste the spring in the wind and I have an irrevocable bit of bounce in my step and a grin on my face.
Who needs meds when we have nice weather, eh? Hop around with me like an idiot! Run across the field for no reason! Climb a tree! Have a picnic! Take a long walk! BE outside! Before the death of summer's HEAT kills us! Enjoy it while it's here and beautiful! Rebel against the cruel shackles of our former season!
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
There are so many little things that one takes advantage of throughout the day-to-day. One of the things I so clearly had been taking for granted was a small pill that prevented certain uncomfortable events from occuring. INstead of delving more into that awkwardness, I will explain it's effect upon me during the course of my prescription.
I felt very level headed. At ease. Pleasant. Agreeable. Sociable and personable, even!
However, due to a lack in resources and a relatively unstable financial arrangement with reality, I have not been able to attain said little pills. Thus far I have noticed several little ticks that bother me.
I feel tired. I have the distinct lack of interest in the outside world. Tiny troubles trouble me greater then they should. I am irritable and socially distant. Though my personality (as far as I can tell) has not really changed.
So, justifiably so, I have reverted to a previous state, in which I will watch a movie, a play, see a show, read a book, and I will become irreversably attached and mildly obsessed with said media. As such reversions go, I have not become attached to a particular media, per say, but I have become attached to the idea of detatching myself from reality.
So there you go, Oysters.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
You know that you are irreperably damaged (in the head) when you admire someone you have made up as opposed to a real live person of quality. When you idolize their morals, their viewpoints and opinions. When you think you may love them, even though that would technically be the grandest form of NARCISISM on the face of the planet. You know that you have gone bat-shit-INSANE when all you truly, really, deeply, with all your heart and soul, with all the passion you possess, with all the conviction and truths and fervence of a fanatic, want to do it live the life of a character that you made up in your head; a character that only exists within the world that was born and exists in the mind of another human being. All facets of which are firmly rooted in fiction and make-believe.
Or, Perhaps, you know that the world ITSELF; the sphere of climates, landmasses, flora, and fauna; of tactile, real existance that you were born into; has gone to such shit that these previously afore-mentioned eccentricities have an undeniable appeal to them. Perhaps, this world has gone so far down the shitter that one must, in fact, indulge in escapeism, or be forever trapped within the confines of a world they despise. Perhaps One must become truly narcisistic in order to satisfy the longing desire to LOVE something that will not turn out to be a dead thing in your arms. PERHAPS this world is forcing some of us to seek morality, honor, truth, justice and other such fanciful concepts in fiction because no particularly accurate example exists in this world now! OR PERHAPS ---
I'm beginning to fear that I am mildly chemically inbalanced. GOD I wish I had health insurance at times like this!
Ha-yuck, ha-yuck, ha-yuck.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
"The Road to Roleplaying" Is going to be taken off the market, so to speak.
Mainly because upon reading it, I found it to be severely lacking. SO It will be undergoing a bit of a revamp. An over-haul. Some changes. Then of course, I shall put it back out as the prestigious 2ND EDITION.
I'll keep you posted about when it shall be re-released.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Over these past few weeks I have had lots of time to think. Firstly, I've been getting lost here in this great city without you to guide me unerringly home. secondly, it is so much quieter in our quarters without you there. Sometimes I imagine your harp strumming in the other room as I turn out my paints and draw...
I had so hoped that there was another way. I still feel like I overlooked something, as if I once again looked past something important and did not understand it until it was far too late... I wish I was as strong as you, Lum. I feel like parts of me are crumbling into dust as I think of you and what you did to save us all...
I promise you that I will fnd a way to save you, Lum. I will find you in the nothing and I will be with you if I cannot free you from that place and put you among the angels as you deserve.
I love you Lum.