Sunday, March 30, 2014

30 Week Blog Challenge - Week 10: Old Photo

Now Playing: The Smiths - How Soon Is Now

I decided to cheat!

I can't quite find pictures from 10 years ago. Turns out my dad only got a digital camera during 2004, but this is March, and he came to visit us in Ecuador during July. So technically, all pictures I found from that time are still 9 years (and a couple months) back.

Also, I look weird in some of them >.>

So instead, I decided to cheat!
Original challenge!

I found a video from my cousin's quinceaƱera party of my mom and I dancing. This took place during the sporadic days my dad came to visit, so he had a video camera at hand. The music awkwardly changes halfway through, and I ended up trying to get into it with odd results.

Honestly, my dancing really hasn't changed that much >_>

It's so weird to watch that clip. I look endlessly awkward in every other photograph taken of me (not just from back then, but all the way till the present), but this video and the photograph of me sitting by my brother's racing tract Christmas morning don't bother me. I know I went on endlessly about this in one of my conversations pieces, but it's really strange now that I have a clip of me spinning and swaying about. I have a hard time remembering that I was her not too long ago, and that she will one day be me.

But okay, this is a short one because I have to go drown myself in essays.

See yah next week.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

30 Week Blog Challenge - Week 9: Pet Peeves

Now Playing: Karla Devito - We Are Not Alone

I am soooo lateeee.

(I'm half-playing that song because The Breakfast Club won't leave my head. And seeing as how it's March 23, 2014 and the detention takes place March 24, 1984, this seemed weirdly appropriate. I've been drowning in Allison and Andy fanfics rather than writing--can't believe I pulled myself away long enough to write this down).

Before I start, I have some mildly stupid news!
I cut my hair. (Unevenly, most likely, because I'm fairly certain I slanted the scissors by mistake). I attempted to take some pictures with my desk in the background to show off my set-up, but promptly forgot the backlight wasn't going to end well.

Had to up the contrast...

I attempted to make bangs from the damaged yellow hair at the front sometime after those photos. It didn't end well, but it's better than having such a dried-up part of my hair unwilling to cooperate.

Anyways, moving on to week 9 (lolmorelikeweek11) of the weekly blog thingy!
Original challenge!

Hmm. Trying to think about them right now is oddly difficult. I get annoyed at so many things, but I'm having trouble remembering them.

I can think of some basic ones, though.

Watching a movie or tv show is borderline sacred to me. It might be because my dad is such a film buff lunatic and I've inherited his attitudes. While occasional comments aren't too bad, I go insane when people talk or make comments throughout a film. This is only acceptable if we're watching something that's obviously stupid or silly, and I'm not against the occasional cheering and clapping at a theater. But when people talk really loudly or laugh at inappropriate moments, I get pissed. And I HATE IT when people check their phones while watching something. Not even because the light bothers me, but because I feel like they just don't care about the film and that just ain't respectful >.>

I hate disgusting and obviously fake pro-life propaganda that blows up images of dead fetuses and babies. Not only is it just plain emotional manipulation on something that's already a difficult decision, it's just gross and not even a little bit realistic.

Slut shaming pisses me off with a burning passion, especially when it's so hypocritical.
Random anecdote that's been bothering me: My two suitemates and roommate last semester (Fall 2013) spoke a lot about boys and their sex lives, having a sort of funny competition with each other. I thought it was kind of amusing and am not the kind of person who's bothered my explicit details of sexual escapades. When Halloween came around, one of my suitemates dressed up as Sexy Construction Worker, which basically was just a tank top, shorts, and the yellow hat. My costume (Resident Witch) was just my regular clothes, mismatched socks, and the costume hat, so I sympathize with simple (and sometimes last minute) get-ups. Once Halloween was over, my other suitemate whined about other girls for AGES, saying, "it isn't Halloween anymore. Stop dressing like such a slut." WTF?

Actually, I am incredibly bothered and disgusted by all girl on girl hate.

This is a mild one, and I don't blame anyone for it, but I hate getting asked what my book is about. THERE IS NO WAY NOT TO MAKE IT SOUND STUPID. I am TERRIBLE at summarizing (which is why I dread the day I have to write query letters). And people are so relentless about hearing about them! But once I give in, they look bored or just plain confused.

I also know they mean well, but I get super uncomfortable when people ask me why I haven't published "already". I'll know when something's ready, and a first draft of a sci-fi novel I wrote less than a few months ago and haven't edited isn't publishable material. I even had this older lady once get annoyed at me because I said I wasn't ready to send anything out. Why are you getting mad over this? hOW DOES THAT EVEN MAKE SENSE?

I hate stories that ultimately come out with "science is evil" or paint scientists as incompetent idiots or assholes without morality. It's why I can't ever stop loving Mass Effect or Attack on Titan--Mordin and Hanji are EXACTLY the type of scientists people should be writing. (I'm looking at you and your failure in this, Prometheus @_@)

AND I HATE AI IS A CRAPSHOOT STORIES. If I read another "and the machines turned against us" narrative I'm going to set something on fire.

@_@ ...okay, I'm getting angry. before I get addicted to the rage.
Next challenge will be on time, I promise >D

Monday, March 17, 2014


Oh Alex... Still a writer at heart. I’m sure it took you a good few days to write out everything, shifting through info you thought was needed to be known, and what to /hide/ from everyone else

I know I'm late on the weekly blog challenge. I was going to try and pick it up last Sunday, but it was my last day in Miami. Nothing strange happened Spring Break--I went to the dentist twice, shopped for clothes, and tried to ice skate Tuesday. I only fell once, so I guess that was an accomplishment, but I also didn't really slide that much. I don't know if the lack of sleep or constant flailing at the rink exhausted me by the time I got to Ren's house, but I knocked out the second I hit her bed while she and Silvia watched Catching Fire and The Devil's Carnival. Suffice to say, things were fairly uneventful, but I had fun Spring Break.

I got back late Sunday--traffic jam in I10 because of the storm sort of stretched out the journey. I took the safe bus from the GMG bus stop and to my dorm, said hi to my roommate, unpacked, took a shower, brushed my hair, and then went to bed.

I checked my emails first thing this morning, and was...surprised.
I suppose describing the little letter I got won't matter because it'd be impossible to explain why it had me grinning so much. It meant a lot to me, in a way, that someone had read a little thing I'd written to a fictional character and then decided to respond. I have no idea who wrote it, of course, but I'm very grateful he/she took the time. In between going to classes, playing the (early released!) new chapter of Rinmaru's Ascension, and worrying about food, I kept spacing out and trying to think of a way to reply. Aside from a "thank you," there wasn't much I could think to add.

This is nothing new. See, same thing happened when Emzy and I bonded over our fascination with a certain internet boogeyman. At the height of our Slender Man Mania, we decided to contribute a blog to the lore. It never got very far and isn't my best written work, but I do remember frustrating Emzy because I took forever in writing The Post. (Y'know, the one in every single Slender Man blog that pretty much establishes the fact that shit has hit the fan?). In her response post--the last thing we put up--she wrote that line up there to "Alex" my semi-but-not-really-alter ego.

So I haven't changed one bit. It took me most of the day to try and think a response to that email. It wasn't much, but I didn't want to take too long and have the writer believe I hadn't received it, hadn't read it, or just simply hadn't cared. I did, however, ask him/her if we'd ever spoken before. And in a way, I hope the answer is no.

I don't think my anonymous philosopher will be answering back or even checking this blog again. I imagine he/she wouldn't have reason to. Which is not a bad thing. Unlike fiction, life's greatest mysteries are those that remain unanswered. I mean, think about it, Jack the Ripper only killed a handful of people. His why or how don't matter, it's the who that drives people to obsesses over him. They both want and don't want to know who he is. As long as he's anonymous, he's immortal.

But okay, enough comparisons with notorious serial killers. That adds a hell of a creepy vibe to what I'm trying to say, which is basically: I don't expect to know who this person is, and in a way, I'm sort of alright with that. For the most part.

(Here's the part I start acting like an idiot. Move along, move along...)

I'm both grateful and worried about the email. Grateful because it was a very lovely response, perfectly funny and sweet, but worried because, sometime after my first class, I started thinking about the sender. And I had a guess as to who it might be. I hope to god I'm wrong. I mean, I probably am. I can usually recognize people's writing styles, and I didn't think I'd seen this particular kind of writing before, so it's more than likely this isn't anyone I know. I started overanalyzing it so much, I probably forced myself to see similarities there that either don't exist or are pure coincidences.

Still, I couldn't help it. I know we like to pretend words are words and they can stand on their own. But that's not the truth. The speakers matter. And I hate to use such a simplistic statement as an example, but if a man had kicked me, spat on me, made me feel worthless time after time and then one day--maybe long after we'd seen each other--he said, "You're very pretty," I would only feel sick to my stomach. It's very different from a stranger on the street just wandering up to me and saying the same thing. I may not know this stranger's past, his personality, and may never see him again, but I could smile at his words rather than recoil in disgust.

The person who hurt me not too long ago could have sent me a letter like that one. And to be honest, I don't think said person ever came to realize just how disgusting his behavior had often been towards me (and this is where Emzy comes in once more--she knew he was bad news from day one, and the things I reported to her didn't exactly help lessen that opinion).

I guess that's the pessimist in me. Only I could look at a sweet letter and then start freaking out about its sender.

Thankfully, I think the optimist in me is winning. I'm certain whoever sent it is actually just a really nice stranger. Or maybe it is someone I spoke with a long time ago--through emails, the RP forums, maybe YouTube or Twitter--and just wanted to drop me a line. Either way, it made me smile, and is still making me smile.

So I'll push stupid speculations away and feel happy I got the email in the first place. After all, what he/she said about characters and they way they live on within their writers is true; Dream'll never die--as he/she said--and hell, maybe she'll outlive me.

So for now, words are words and they stand on their own.

Friday, March 7, 2014

Dear Dream,

I know it's weird to write to my fictional character. Well, maybe you don't consider it so, but I--and most people--kind of do. I've talked to you through all these years, written about the things that happened to you, the people you've met, and everything you've said--but I've never really written anything to you and only you. I can't even spend too much time on this letter because, oddly enough, it's also my brother's birthday, so it's a busy day. (Is this weirder? I sort of knew I'd forget yours if I didn't make it relevant. Don't hate me for it. I forgot everyone else's birthdays so clearly this method works).

And isn't it just great that
Elle Fanning is your faceclaim?
You've been with me since you were twelve. I was fourteen when you crashed into my head and--to an extent--my life. Today you turn sixteen--so we're both practically old ladies by your standards. I don't know if you thought you'd make it this far. You have never exactly lived an easy life. But despite all that I've thrown at you, you made it. You continue to grow older and stranger, just the way we've always wanted.

I don't know how or why you appeared. I don't know why you managed to stick around for so long, to jump through every universe I could think to steer you into. You were--and maybe still are--pretentious, silly, sweet, and dramatic when we started. But you were also slightly dangerous back then--deranged in ways that confused me and everyone else who wrote with me. And that made it interesting.

I'm proud of you, but I'm also thankful for you. You've made me a better writer. You were my first character with a whole original, distinct, powerful voice. You surprised me when you told me you liked another girl and when you revealed a side that thirsted for violence and serenity. You were the reason I formed friendships with incredible people and met some truly twisted, terrible individuals--but that's alright. Because as you grew and made friends and enemies with other writers' imaginary head-people, I made friends and enemies with either the messed up or wonderful creators. I learned a lot about people, about writing, and about morals because of you.

In my head, if I stop for a moment to see you, you'll be thirteen years old. You'll have those scars across your pretty face, you'll smell of leaves and dirt, and you'll only wear one boot. You'll always be 6'1 despite your youth and rather harsh upbringing. You'll always refuse to believe in heroes and villains--but only because your optimism disagrees with such simplistic definitions.  And I know, that no matter the age or time, the presence of danger or the fleeting joys of love and companionship, you'll always be a wanderer.

This isn't a goodbye. I couldn't push you away if I tried. But we are fading apart a little bit. I haven't written for you in ages. I never even finished your little novella--but I'm not going to die before that's done, I promise.

Even if I never write another thing down for you, know that I'm thankful you came into existence. It might sound strange but I really do love you, Esther Paine. And don't make faces. It's a pretty name, even if you don't use it as often.

Thank you for being in my head for so long. And Happy Sixteenth Birthday.
P.S: Did you know today is also Master Chief's birthday? March 7th is so much cooler than December 13th >:(

Sunday, March 2, 2014


You officially read more than Gise and Dario.

And that is an odd, odd feeling @_@

(I'm trying to fix the comments section Dx. My blog hates me).

EDIT: The comments thing seems to be sporadic. I don't know why it's picking and choosing which ones to write about.


30 Week Blog Challenge - Week 8: Cravings

Now Playing: Nine Inch Nails - Everyday Is Exactly The Same

Before anything, EDIT: Who was the anon from last time? :( Gise!? Dario!? Carp!? Uh...who else...Ren/Silvia?? I DON'T GET UPDATES DX I didn't see the comments till now. The mystery persistsssss

Man, picking Sunday for these things was a terrible idea. I have two archival projects due for my separate lit classes next week, a terrifying quiz for Japanese cinema (why is that my most difficult clas?! D:< ), I have to get ready to leave Thursday for Spring Break, and...I wanna catch up on Attack on Titan >.>

I specifically did not bring earphones with me to the dining hall so I wouldn't be tempted to watch the anime. But that doesn't mean I don't have the manga~

Ugh. I'm a terrible student. Grad school would eat me alive. But it's not my fault! Just like I lately realized I have a love for electric blue, korean dragons, and running, I also apparently really, really like giants. I've written them like three times now. Plus, the easiest way to grab me with a story is with the mythology--I can love the characters, the world, the events unfolding--but unless the mythology is epic, I won't be obsessed from the beginning. (Which weirdly hasn't happened since the Halo games. Not even Mass Effect, or Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter did this to me).

Original challenge!

I honestly don't even know what this question means. With the original challenge, the author just wrote down things she wanted. But uh...I mean...that's kind of short for me. It doesn't go farther than,
  1. Get Published
  2. Finish my Bachelor's
  3. Help my parents and myself get off debt/buy a house
  4. Run 3 miles in under 25 minutes.
Okay, there's like ten thousand little details, but those are the main ones. And if they happened in that order? Wooooo~

But I think craving is usually used in terms of things you consume? So...

  • PANDA EXPRESS. Or really, most greasy-Chinese-food places.
  • Sushi!
  • Hot-pockets (The pizza ones--I keep it classy).
  • Strawberries with pineapple
  • Ribs!

  • Uh...this won't be specific, so: Epic space operas.
  • Complex female protagonists with autonomy
    • Bonus: In a cast of characters that includes other women who are not vilified. (Eww sausage fests and girl-on-girl-hate)
  • Interesting fantasy worlds that don't rely on Medieval European Backgrounds.
  • Villains that make me want to scream and hide. (So rarely happens)

  • Hard, industrial, alternative, folk, or indie rock.
  • Impressive lyrics (though I have a love of purely instrumental music too)
  • Soundtracks with African influences, heavy use of choir, and/or electronic roots.

  • Long takes
  • Masterful use of low-angle shots
  • Chase scenes! (idk, I love them)
  • Practical clothing (why do women in movies almost always wear high heels even if it's inconvenient as all hell?

  • I'm bitter about this point: some fucking diversity. Give it a rest with the (often bearded) 25-40 year old white guys with short brown hair.
    • Though admittedly, video games seem to be doing better at this than major motion pictures.
  • If customizable characters--some voice acting, if you can manage it~
  • Open worlds or differing outcomes. (I don't hate linear storytelling, but if video games are the one medium that can easily and masterfully break free of that, then there should be more of thissss)

Ochey, Fiction in General
  • Apparently, I want more giants.
  • And complex women
  • And epic mythology
And those are the things I crave! 8D

"Science and science fiction have done a kind of dance over the last century... The scientists make a finding. It inspires science fiction writers to write about it, and a host of young people read the science fiction and are excited, and inspired to become scientists...which they do, which then feeds again into another generation of science fiction and science..."
- Carl Sagan, in his message to future explorers of Mars.