Random Ramblings (possibly n. 1 of many to come)

*waves* Hey there. Glad to see you!

As the title says, today I’m going to treat my darling readers to some ramblings.

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But first – if you don’t want to read this, you don’t have to. I’m going to try and keep complaints out of this post, but I may not succeed. ; )

Sleep

Ah, yes. Sleep, the dreaded and the loved. At least by moi. I haven’t been sleeping well, lately – or rather, I have trouble falling asleep. As I like to put it, I never feel tired until I realize I’m exhausted. Which often happens at, say, midnight or later. I won’t waste any more time going into all the details, but essentially, as soon as I get into bed, I want to get up, I want to read, I want to do something, anything other than lay there and do nothing. I don’t know if I stay awake because I’m not relaxed, or if I’m genuinely not tired.

Writing, drawing, and other semi – productive pastimes

Regrettably, lately I’ve been having trouble finding the motivation/energy to do these types of things. I’m pretty sure this derives from lack of sleep, and I’d like to fix that, but I don’t know how. To be honest, I don’t have a very good history with sleep – my parents tell me the only nights that I fell asleep (and stayed asleep) easily were the first two nights of my life X D. So, I’m trying to fix a life-long bad habit : (.

I don’t feel that I enjoy drawing, writing, or doing anything that requires even a small amount of energy anymore. I feel that I might if I only got more sleep, though. What do you guys think?

Idle, “easy” pastimes

Lately, I find myself spending my time playing on the iPad and laying around more and more often. In my opinion, this may also derive from a lack of sleep and therefore, energy. It’s fun to do nothing, but at the same time, the guilt and lack of sense of fulfillment that comes with it is definitely not fun.

Scarily, I find that when given a choice between doing something productive (i.e. writing)   and doing something unproductive (sitting around), I’ll choose the latter. It doesn’t mean that I like my choice, but unfortunately it’s what I seem to prefer. I want to change that.

 

So, what am I going to do about all this muddled mess that I made you guys read about?

I believe that the main problem lies in lack of sleep. So, I’m going to start a sleep tracker and record how many hours I sleep. My goal is to get ten hours of sleep each night – we’ll see how that goes. : D

In a future post, I’ll share a more concrete plan for being more productive and getting enough sleep.

 

If you read this, thank you! And if you didn’t, I understand. You didn’t have to.

Do you have any thoughts? Do you ever have trouble sleeping?

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Guess What? Another CWWC!

Salutations and greetings, my friends! You’re awesome, by the way. : )

I’m using all the prompts, in case anybody was wondering. Most specifically, Loren. ; )

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aesthetics poem thingy – rebel city

skateboards and roller skates 

clanging subways

alley mazes

forgotten places

foreign smells

dyed hair

jeans and loose laces

escape routes and flashing lights

neon signs at twilight. 

I know it’s really short, but I… um… have no excuse. Other than I have a lot of stuff I want to do and too little time. Okay, I guess that’s an excuse.

What’s your favorite city?

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CWWC Entry Challenge Sesto

*zooms on* Well, hello! Fancy seeing you here. ; )

*snores* ahhh I’m so tired. How unfortunate, because I have to write. Falling asleep at one in the morning is not a good idea, guys. You know that feeling when you’re not tired until you realize you’re exhausted? Yup, me too. : )

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Moving on… I used all the prompts in my lil’ story here. You’re welcome, Team Narnia.

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Trust Me

     Leaves crunched under the man’s heavy boots as he plodded heavily through the forest. His hood was drawn tightly over his face, and he was dressed in greens and browns. If not for the young girl he carried in his arms, he would have been invisible to all but the birds flying overhead.

“We’re almost there now,” he whispered.

The girl nodded. Her wavy blonde hair was filled with twigs, and her clothes were torn and stained.

“You weren’t supposed to find me yet,” he murmured, an odd sharpness coming into his voice. “The rebels are supposed to be a secret.”

“But I want to fight, as well.”

“I could never forgive myself if something happened to you, and you know it. I know that you can use every kind of weapon available. I know you’re sneaky. I know you can talk your way out of any situation,” he said.

“Exactly. I’d be precious to the rebellion.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true. But people will get killed. This is a war, not an adventure. Commander Wildner was very clear about that. I don’t want to be fighting against the other side, then turn my head, see you fall and not get up.”

“I don’t want to be sitting all alone at my mother’s house, reading the mail dispatches day after day, to one morning see you listed among the dead.”

      They had come to the edge of the forest. A dilapidated, wooden sign was fixed to the ground: “DON’T GO IN THE WOODS”. A necessary precaution, to keep the rebels gathering a secret.

     The man set the girl down. “I’ll come back,” he whispered. 

     The girl nodded. The man turned around slowly and went back into the forest, disappearing amongst the tall trees.

     The girl followed him. 

CIFFHANGER! MWHAHAHA!

Do you have any feedback?

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CWWC – Challenge Five Entry

Hi there!

It’s CWWC time. Which means writing. In this case, I’m going to be writing an encouragement/poem thingy. Sit back and relax, my friends. Also, here’s some Nutella, which is always awesome. And some mango for those who are allergic to chocolate. Because mangos are also awesome.

Also, I used all the prompts. Just to let you know, Loren.

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don’t be chained down by iron and cuffs.

don’t be blinded, don’t let people look right through you. 

that isn’t who you are. 

you’re strong and fierce and you have wings that are just beginning to grow.

imagine that.

there’s a lot of people in the world.

everybody has a destiny.

it’s written in the stars and and in the sky and the moon and the sun and the air. 

it’s written in us. 

you have a purpose in life. 

only you can fulfill that purpose.

it’s time to step up to the stage. 

don’t be afraid.

it’s your time to walk to the edge of a cliff and feel no fear.

because you are such a fragile little human, but that’s okay.

and sometimes being fragile, makes you strong. 

So… that’s it! What did you guys think of that? Do you have any questions/feedback?

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BBPC – Fruit Entry

Hi there!

Today’s post is going to be short – but sweet!

SC-menu-mini-cupcakes

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See? It’s sweet!

Anyways, here’s my entry for BIBPC (Boring Into Beautiful Photography Contest), hosted by the wonderful Megan!

Challenge One’s theme is fruit, so this is my photo:

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Mrs. Melon with her nephews The Bananas.

The Bananas are camera-shy and slightly out of focus. My profoundest apologies. 😉

These lovely specimens of fruit are from my equally lovely grandparents’ counter. The grandparents are lovely, I mean. Not the counter.

What else… ah, yes, the fruit was bought from Lucky’s and will most likely be consumed at breakfast tomorrow.

And last but not least… GO TEAM COCONUT!

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CWWC Challenge Four

Hello, lovelies!

It’s writing time!

 JmWlE

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Attention, attention; all Team Narnia members: WE CAN DO THIS! PUT YOUR WRITING CAPS ON AND LET THE WORDS FLOURISH! That’s an order. Kind of.

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 TO: LOREN

     USED ALL PROMPTS. STOP. CWWC IS VERY AWESOME. STOP. AND SO ARE YOU. STOP. THANK YOU AND GOOD DAY. STOP. MWAHAHAHA. STOP. THAT WAS JUST TO SOLIDIFY MY WEIRDNESS. STOP. AND TO PRACTICE MY EVIL LAUGH. STOP.

FROM: JORDAN

Messy Girl

     Cassie Mahoney had her back to him, her mind immersed somewhere else. Was she thinking of him? No, probably not. Cassie had not yet subsided to the expensive gifts and professionally arranged flowers that he had been sending her for a couple months now. 

     He had thought that she would have wanted a shoulder to lean on, someone to support her morally, but above all, financially. Cassie was clever, beautiful, daring, and unfortunately, hard to get. Even after the death of her father and her mother being sent to a nursing home, Cassie had not seemed to have needed any type of help. She had simply moved into a small, but well-lit loft and started to sell her paintings, in addition to working the night shift at a small café downtown. 

    The place was rather untidy – as was she, but in a charming way. Her black wool sweater slipped off her shoulders, her hands were splattered with paint, and her blondish hair was gathered loosely on top of her head. She reached up with a steady arm and continued applying paint to the canvas. 

     He waited a few moments before clearing his throat nervously, “Hi, Cassie.”

     She turned. “Hello,” she said casually.

     “I saw this cake in a window on my way here. Thought I might bring it to you.”

    The girl glanced at the pink frosted cake, embellished with the words ‘you’re so pretty’. She smiled delicately, and for a moment he felt his heart pump with victory. “Although I know perfectly well that you set out to buy it purposely and you came here to deliver it, I appreciate that you bought it for me. I might give it to the soup kitchen, seeing as I don’t need it, but thank you.”

     He smiled. “Want to go uptown with me? Take a little stroll?”

    She smiled back. The look in her eyes told him exactly what was about to happen. She would dimple, let out a girlish giggle, and accept graciously. Just as girls were supposed to. She would finally accept to be his companion to show off.

     Except she didn’t. “No, thank you. I’m not interested,” she said firmly. And to his utter bewilderment, she placed the cake back in his arms. “You’re not even a hundredth of what my father was. He would never have let you walk through this doorstep. You would not have been up to his standards, and because of that, I do not want you in my life. You don’t have even a small percentage of his kind heart and clever mind.” 

     She gestured towards the door. “Please exit through the gift shop”.    

Did you like that? Do you have any feedback? Are you participating in CWWC, and if so what team are you on?

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CWWC Challenge Three

Hola! *bursts a piñata* *showers everybody with candy*

This post is going to be a lil’ different than my usual writing challenge posts – because this time, I’m writing a poem!

^psst, Loren: I used all of the prompts^

 

But before we get started…

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No Trespassing

ask me no questions, 

i’ll tell you no lies.

my secrets are mine, 

my house is marked with a sign,

‘no trespassing’.

it watches you. 

do not look at the shell 

and think you know all. 

there is more within,

in the story of my life

but the pages do not reveal themselves to you. 

do not trespass. 

it’s not allowed, because my life is not yours to learn.

ask me no questions,

i’ll tell you no lies. 

So there you go, my friends! Short but sweet.

Are you participating in CWWC? Any fellow Narnians? 
Did you understand/like my poem? Or was it complete gibberish? Do you have any feedback?

Talk to me below!

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CWWC Challenge Two

How are you doing, lovely people? Have you been having a fun summer so far?

For Loren’s benefit, I used all three of the prompts. You’re welcome. 😉

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   A chain rattled against the hard wooden floor, echoing against the timber of the wall. The light was dim, only coming from a heavily shaded window placed near the top of the cellar wall, at street level. The chain rubbed against the boards as a violet-haired girl crossed the room, dragging one foot behind. The ankle was bound tightly in metal, and she walked with a pronounced limp. She braced one foot against the wall and tried to climb up to the window, her hands pressed flat on the dusty wall. She fell back with a heavy thud on the pavement. 

   The sound of footsteps approached and the lock rattled. The girl scooted towards the center of the room and closed her eyes, letting her head loll back and her hands relax. A surly man walked in and ran his eyes over her tattered leather jacket, her scuffed jeans and auburn colored boots. Her nudged her heavily with his boot, putting another mark on her already dirty and scratched face. Seemingly satisfied, he stood upright and turned for the door. Nothing more to be done, except… he spun around quickly and gave her hard slap, scattering her colored hair. “Loose-toungued,” he seethed. “Spilling Resister secrets to the Enforcers.”

   The girl stirred, and the man seemed about to say something, but checked himself. “Good thing you didn’t name infiltrated spies or I would have personally made sure that you suffered the consequences.” 

   He left the room.

   Moments later, a young boy with jet-black hair wandered down the street. His bright eyes rested on a row of tired-looking houses, built in timber and bricks. He narrowed his eyes at an unassuming, gray one. “Of course,” he muttered with an intelligence well beyond his years. “The one with the bars on the lower windows.”

   He crept up to a small window at the base of the house and kicked his foot against it urgently. “Carshington Windleinxe,” he whispered urgently. “Carshington Windleinxe!”

   A faint rattle came from within. A violet framed face appeared at the bottom right corner of the window. “Reg!” the girl whispered. “You’re not supposed to be here. If they find you, it’s all going to go… worse.”

   “I had to say goodbye, ‘Dromeda,” he said, his eyes filling. “Handing yourself over to the enemy… so we could continue… that was… brave… you’re my heroine. And my favorite sister.”

   ‘Dromeda looked up at Reg. “No,” she said thickly. “I shouldn’t be your heroine. Don’t let it end like this, with all faults forgiven and a soppy, loving goodbye. I don’t want my last moments with my favorite brother to be like that. Just promise me one thing. Promise me that the Resisters won’t be defeated. Promise me that you’ll make sure of that.”

   “I promise.”

   “And… tell them that I said something. That I gave them our alternate headquarters. And some passwords. They deserve the truth. They can think of me as they want to. But I don’t want to die a heroine, a savior of the Resisters. I don’t want to die a villain either, a traitor. I want to die as a human, hero and villain mixed into a girl who tried her hardest and did her best. After all, villains are just heroes with an untold story, and heroes are just hidden villains.”

   She smiled, perhaps for the last time, her purple hair enveloping her face, casting light and shadows across it. 

 

This lil’ story was heavily inspired by the Blacks from Harry Potter. Just saying, I love the Black family, excepting perhaps Bellatrix. Although she does have a cool name.

‘Dromeda’s hair and clothes were inspired by Tonks. Her full name is Andromeda, ‘Dromeda for short, which was Tonks’ mother’s name. The part she says about heroes and villain was inspired by these two quotes by Sirius Black:

Draco’s head is photobombing the quote. Sorry, guys. 😉

Reg’s full name is Regulus, Sirius’ brother.

 

Did you enjoy my story? Do you have any questions or feedback? 

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Beautiful People: Writing

Hey there, beautiful people!

Today, I’m going to be doing Beautiful People (for those who don’t know, it’s this awesome character/writing link-up hosted by Paperfury and Further Up and Further In).

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So let’s get this party writing link-up started, shall we?

 

How do you decide which project to work on?

More like, how do I think of a measly beginning that hopefully will lead to some sort of plot? 😉

How long does it usually take you to finish a project?

As I have never finished a project, I really couldn’t say. XD

Do you have any routines to put you in the writing mood?

A combination of procrastination and the glares of my ‘Unfinished Writing’ folder. 

What time of day do you write best?

I always feel more productive in the morning, so I would have to say then. 

Are there any authors you think you have a similar style to?

I like to think that I’m similar to J. K. Rowling, but I doubt it.  

Why did you start writing, and why do you keep writing?

I started writing short stories to give to my grandparents in the summer of 2010, and I try to write for pleasure so that when I get older and I write as a profession, I’ll be better at it. 

What’s the hardest thing you’ve written?

Most likely a essay on four items/quotes that express my sense of ‘me-ness’. The assignment explanation paper was longer and more eloquent, but that’s the gist of it. I think that the hard part was that some of the requirements were difficult to fufill, and I was really stressed at the time.

Is there a project you want to tackle someday but you don’t feel ready yet?

To write a novel that has to get finished by a certain deadline, get accepted by a publisher, and on which will depend my income. The very thought makes me go pale. But I want to be a writer anyways. 

What writing goals did you make for 2017 and how are they going?

I wanted to finish my old and now pending WIP. However, since I started a new WIP, that goal hardly counts anymore, does it? Or is that just an excuse?

Describe your writing process in 3 words or a GIF!

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Does anybody have any techniques/ways to stay/enjoy writing and not procrastinate? Can any of you relate to my answers?

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CWWC: Challenge 1

Hello, hello!

Despite my love for procrastination (I’ve been reading WordPress posts for no less than an hour), I’ve decided to write my first short story for CWWC. Yay me! Also, I wrote a thousand words today. Double yay.

Hey Loren: I’m using all of the prompts – triple yay.

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Regrets

     The bus rolled to a stop and I stood up, grabbing the painted bar above me. I  swung out of the seating area and stepped into the aisle, limping as I made my way down the crowded and narrow space. The dim light in the bus had me stopping every few steps to place my footing. My eyes – along with my leg – had never been quite the same since the bombing in Atlanta. I reached the sliding doors to the bus just as they were about to close. “Wait!” I cried out, possibly a little feebly. I wasn’t sure if anybody had heard me and it didn’t matter. Thing is, you get to a certain point in life where some things aren’t as important as they used to be. 

     I stepped out into the cloudy late afternoon. No sun shone through the misty canopy above me. I started walking, breathing in the chilly air. I clutched a small notebook to my chest and resisted the temptation to look at it. I didn’t want to think about it, I didn’t want to think about anything, I only wanted for the stars to line up and for time to turn back. That isn’t to much to ask, isn’t it, God? I thought to myself. Of course, a lot of things that should have happened in the last decade hadn’t, and some things that happened shouldn’t have. That’s what I would wake up thinking, and what I would think as I would stare at the heavens before falling asleep each night. 

     My hand tightened around the lilies that I carried, wrapped in their white paper packaging. They looked beautiful and perfect, and I brought them every year. 

     I rounded the corner into the cemetery.

     I made my way through the weather-worn gravestones, the gravel crunching under my feet. So many deaths, so much unfairness. So many cruel tricks of destiny. So many lives, all gone and mostly forgotten. 

     I came to the center of the graveyard and set foot on the white flagstones. I looked ahead. There she was, memorialized forever in hard, unforgiving stone, a marble lily entwined in her hands. A lily. Like my Lily, gone and never to return. 

     I made my way through the lilies planted near her grave. She loved them. But not as much as I had loved her, and still loved her now. I placed my roses on her grave, under the small pavilion. I slowly tugged my notebook from under my arm. It was made in black leather and well-worn. All the things that I wanted to say and never did were in there. I opened it.

     “I miss you, Lily,” I began in a whisper. “I miss you and I love you and I think about you all day and dream about you all night. I never told you all that I should have, I never told you anything that I should have and now I’ve lost my chance. I hope that you loved me but sometimes our hopes don’t become realities. Now all that’s left of you is a stone memorial, lots of lilies and my love for you. I love you. I love you more than the stars and the moon and the the comets shooting through this unfair universe. I wish I had told you that, but you know now. I remember when I first met you on that bus. I thought you were perfect then and I think you’re perfect now. I love you, Lily.”

     I swallowed and closed my notebook. There was plenty more I could have said. But I didn’t, and somehow that felt okay too. I wasn’t okay – the whole universe wasn’t okay – but maybe she was, and that was enough. 

How did you guys like that? Do you have any feedback? Parts you liked/didn’t like? I’d love to know!

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