Friday, July 30, 2010

Zombie Kittens - or, For Mia's contest.

Zombies - and a pretty darn awesome blogger

So, thanks to two people (Er... I don't know if I can put their real names. But, they are writing sisters!) I always have an amazing time with, over the course of a day, I had two revolutionary things happen.

1) I was introduced to a quirky blog that makes me smile and deals with writing. And zombies. Aren't combinations like those the best? My Literary Jam and Toast. That's the blog. The one I will read in a short while and enjoy.

2) I helped make a video for a contest. First contest I have allowed myself to participate in since sixth grade. I am a little older by now. OH! and guess what! It is being held by that amazing person - Mia. I don't actually know the last name because i am a horrible person. (You should be able to tell that by my lack of proper capitalization due to laziness when typing.) My apologies.

See! That's it. And apparently, my attempt to blog about it until the cows come home. Yeeeaaaahhh. Epic. Fail.

Hopefully, I shall be able to put up the video (computers and technology HATE my writing guts) and I will be on time (time and a certain person are out to get me. Both are against my reading blogs - especially with zombies - and my writing. Thankfully, I have ways of tying them up and dropping them in wells =]).

Oh, look. It is making me do it separately. Fools.

But... there is the writing part. Heh. And My apologies to her to not being able to promote it. I hang my head in shame and wish upon a magic star I had the internet more readily available and time on my side. But, Alas! I do not. What I do have is a knack for stringing words together. Though, the attempt will reek. So, my dear contest judge and lover of zombies, here is my attempt...

I escaped from the clutches of the Wicked Witch. My freedom was costly and it took much courage. Ok. Fine. I didn't escape. Dorothy came trotting along with her little friends and anyone who read her story knows how it goes. Anyway, the point is, I am no longer under her control.

Which is bad. Being a flying monkey, I am curious and have the ability to fly. Great combination. See, that wonderful mix caused me to find a way out of my world and into a world with strange creatures called vampires.

A strange old man told me I had entered the "Twilight Zone" and then laughed. Apparently, he had made a joke. My non-laughing response was to eat a flea that was climbing up his nose.

So, these "vampires" eat blood. Or drink it - whatever! Humans have been scared of them for a long time. I was a little scared too. Being a monkey, I was able to talk to the creatures roaming the forest I was in, and talked to a little kitten. The thing was decrepit looking and smelled something awful like dead flesh. But, this odd little creature, was my link to the vampires. From him I learned what they were.

I was shaking in my little boots (Sigh. Yes, boots. I had to wear them while being a slave and got used to them. Okay?) as we walked through the shadowy forest. Talk about a horrible time. Well, then the little kitten, Kitty (of all the obvious things to name a creature), gave a little snarl. I turned to look, curious as ever and saw a man.

Not really, I found out. "Vampire!" My little companion gasped. Sure enough, it was pale and looked like a bowl of limp noodles. Then, it stepped out into a patch of sunlight. I nearly died of laughter. He was sparkling! I was scared of a thing that sparkled! Oh, the fun of it.

Little Kitty went running towards him, his mangled tail up in the air. "Sparkles..." He whispered, enchanted. Of all the things I have ever seen, this was one of the weirdest ones. A kitten, whispering in scared tones about how deadly vampires are only minutes before, was calmly staring as if under a spell at this blood-sucking, sparkling man.

Wondering what was up with Kitty, but not wanting to have my blood sucked, I went looking for the nearest willow tree. Those trees are the easiest to hide under, with their long, dangling branches. I wanted to hide. I found one, by a beautiful little pond, and curled up in some lower branches.

So, here I am, hoping that sparkling thing does not find me and I can find a way out of this world. This strange, strange world with vampires and falling apart kittens who love to stare at the sparkling death-bringers. Oh why was I ever freed? If I had never been, this Flying Monkey would be happily at home, nice and snug and secure. Not huddled in a willow tree.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Attackers and Killers

Writing. Ah... sit down in front of a sheet of clean paper, or a blank computer screen that is annoying me with it's dinosaur bone quality, take a deep breath, and begin furiously putting my words out of my head and into public viewing. halfway through I have a little breakdown and curl up on the big comfy chair and cry. Why do my people like to have tragic things happen when the world is so good for me? Uh, yeah. Apparently I forget who I write about. Creatures that are on the verge of having no soul. Obviously, they don't care.

Oh, and they don't just have tragic moments where a beloved dies and leaves me crying. NOO! They have to attack me as I am walking home, already freaked out. Why? Because it is dark and I am in the head of a wimp. They think attacking me at those moments is just a barrel of fun.

To make matters worse, they kill me, too. I am happily trying not to fall in love with my Innocent as Cleodentri as I stand in the dark near woods and then wham! I am attacked (this time it is a different attack) and get killed.

And people wonder why I have a growing hatred for night time when I am by myself.

Tonight, with the best of luck, I will curl myself up by the computer, with some tissues just in case, and pound furiously on the keyboard just to see how many times I can wound a certain pain that won't stop attacking me.

This is why I avoid the doctors that deal with mental health.

I rather like this odd system...

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Smelling Spices and Sniffing Closets

Mmmm. Spices. Cinnamon. Oregano. Nutmeg. Cumin. Paprika. And Tarragon. (There are a whole bunch more, but like I am going to list them all.) I saw tarragon in the spice cabinet and hopped on it. (not literally. But that would have been amusing.) Then, tearing through the little containers, I found nutmeg. I wanted to compare the smells. Yeah, great idea. Nutmeg reminded me of pie. Then, tarragon reminded me of hippies. Because it flew up my nose, I spazzed, and my mother began laughing and crowing about how no one has ever been known to snort tarragon before. Being so mature, I let her know (sarcastically) nutmeg does not snort well, so tarragon had to do. Then I got yelled at by a cranky, woken up father. I mean, it's not my fault I write better at night.

Yes, the blame falls on my writing. Cleodentri's story involves tarragon. So, of course I was smelling it. How is that not obvious. Unfortunately, my nose has still not recovered from being attacked by demon leaves.

Somehow, I have been cursed into sniffing a lot more than just food. A skit for my youth group has someone sniffing in a closet. Well, the guy doing this has always reminded me of a dog. As I am supposed to be bored and slightly embarrassed, I am secretly suppressing a great case of the sillies. At one point last night, I ended up joking around and sniffing. As if I don't make a fool of myself already.

My sisters, with their oddness, pulled me into their room and had me sniff around looking for the cat. Do I look like a dog? I think not! (more like a mouse or a mole, I always thought.) So, I am crawling around sniffing, when the closet door flies open in front of my face and I must sniff. Every. Single. Piece of. Clothing.

They need an air freshener.

Now, I have an old abandoned building to creep around. And sniff. For my writing, of course. =]

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

The Tents of GAW! Mwahaha!

Okay, do not tell me the Tents of Gaw does not sound menacing or like it belongs in some fantasy novel. The Tents of GAW, a little celebration the neighboring town hosted, were very beneficial to me. There were tents (if you did not figure this out go find an emu, squawk at it, then stuff a whole apple pie in its mouth. have fun running! Ahem...) and a large quantity of them were super cool and had... wait for it... rocks!

Yes. Rocks. Aren't I a loser. Actually, I am a loser writer, thank you very much. I practically attacked those poor people in my search for Amethysts and something from Onyx. There was this really pretty onyx ring. And it looked very scary at the same time. My lovely friend (I am actually not being sarcastic) had to drag me away as I pouted, due to my status as a poor little girl who was at a five dollar loss. Finally, I found this little tent with rocks and rocks and rock jewelry and had a blast.

Some lovely person asked what amethyst means. It's the stone of royalty. I let out a little squeal of happiness and began jumping around. Jedediah told this story I made up about amethysts and it fit perfectly! Then I asked what onyx meant, as I have Cleodentri (who is fully aware she sounds like a cat with clean teeth and a pet tree) wear onyx so she doesn't eat people. It means strength and a bunch of other things that I could associate with my use of the rock. I was so happy!

I got a pair of onyx earrings and, being the dork I am, have not taken them out of my ears except to shower. They are nice and do not stab me. =].

My Dork moment:

Ohmydearmuffins! Look it's Egyptian. haha. I am totally not a dor - Oh! *pounces on thing* It's the secret symbol of Solomon! Hippos!

Sam: How many times are you going to completely contradict yourself?

me: I don't know. Amethyst! Look! A knife!

Sam: *Shakes head and laughs* You are so lucky I love you or I would call a big man with a net.

That was not at all random. What are you talking about?

Friday, July 2, 2010

Writing Goals and Wells

After babysitting Tuesday and writing while the two cuties played with crayons, I got home and sat in front of the computer, waiting to think of something. All I could think of was the weekend and the discussions I had with my friend concerning goals and writing. So, then came this stupid dialogue of sorts.

Me:Hmm... a goal sounds like a good thing to come up with. One that is much more solid than have something done by the start of school.

Mom: What are you doing with your face?

Me: Thinking. (continues on to myself) Yeah. I can have a revolutionary summer for me by having goals. Mwaha - who are you?

Thing: Goals! You seem to need me. You write. I can make do for a writer!

Me: (making a face. I much prefer talking to my characters than things other people can converse with too. Yup. I'm insane.) That's lovely. I can handle this myself.

Mom: Stop giving me dirty looks!

Me: I'm not giving YOU dirty looks! Go away! I mean... aha... I love you very much. Please go into the kitchen. Where I will be free of you.

Goals: She's gone! How about you finish that chapter you started by Friday and then begin working with Drell again? Isn't that a great idea!

Me: Hmm... I guess it is. I'll do it.

Hahaha! Yup. I got that done. It is now Friday and I have not touched a piece of paper or my computer unless it was reading a book or playing on the Internet. Yes, a wonderful idea. I am now at the point where I want to find a well, introduce Well to Goals and then push Goals down Well!

But, life isn't like that. I can't get rid of my disappointment and some emotion close to anger by pushing my insanity down a well. *Sigh*... if only.

Well! I am done wallowing in Writer's misery of my own making. I think I shall now find a new book to read and then make myself some Bluffins (blueberry muffins). Or maybe i shall go hunt down Goals and yell at the perky little thing.