Monthly Archives: March 2014
She whispers fervently, fingers hooked onto the bars, half-kneeling and half-crouching. Why him?
Cloudy blue eyes regard him with intense pleading and anguish that a thousand years of mourning couldn’t even begin to compare with. And for a second, for a fraction of a second, he feels guilt. But just as quickly as it was there, it flitted away, lost in the wind and never to be felt about her or her child ever again. It wasn’t his fault, nothing ever was his fault anymore. He didn’t get to make decisions, didn’t get to say orders – he just followed them. And he followed them well.
He steps back, eyelashes lowering in dismissal? Refusal? Shame? Whatever it was, he no longer cared. Could no longer care.
Retreats, head high with non-existant pride, and places a hand on the shoulder of the young boy, trembling beside him. He hopes it’s comforting – not really sure if the boy even realizes his fate. Then pauses and reflects. Surveys the dingy hall and eyes the sequential barred doors, changing his mind. Here, where friends were rats and fellow damned, everyone knew where eventually they were all going. For some, straight to hell. And others to fire and back. He wasn’t sure which was better: to die or to die inside and live?
“Say good-bye to your mum.”
The boy turns back once and lifts his hand. He hears the faint sob tumble out of the boy’s mother and then he’s marching forward. It’s not his fault.
“Will I ever see her ‘gain mister?”
He thinks for a bit, pushing his tongue into the cheek of his mouth. He doesn’t need to lie, but sometimes they prefer the lies over the truth. In the end, he decides to give the boy a choice – a choice he failed to give to the others, already knowing the answer they’d give. “You can if you want. Or you can stay with the others.”
The boy’s shoulders seem to ease up a bit with the hope of returning to his mother but then quickly fall back down in dejection, a stabbing question piercing his mind. “How..” he lowers his gaze to the floor moving under their feet, “How come the others don’t come back then?”
“They don’t want to come back.” Simple and short, and he motions the boy to step forward into the next hallway.
They make their way through several more hallways, stairs, floors and doors, before the child tugs his arm with an innocent timidness that almost makes him choke. Five years now and he still hadn’t gotten any stronger, had he? It might even be more real to say that he’d actually gotten softer.
“Why don’t they want to?”
He swallows the lump in his throat and mentally distances himself as always. “You’ll see,” he replies, grit in his teeth and rumble under his tongue, much more harshly than he had intended. They were not friends and the boy certainly shouldn’t believe he could lean on him. He was essentially the boy’s executioner, as he was bringing the boy to a future full of suffering. Perhaps actually being an executioner would have been easier.
There’s silence for the rest of their walk, until they stop in front of red and golden doors. lights peeping from under, enticing and promising though of the two, only he knew how very well looks can be deceiving.
The door opens and an equally emotionless gaze meets his. They’ve performed this drill too many times. “The bath is ready for him.”
He nods in response and pushes the boy forward. “Blue eyes this time, correct?”
“The master said the sky was beautiful today,” the woman laughs cynically, “he wishes to taste that beauty.”
He nods again, stoic and resigned. It’s time.
The woman grabs the boy’s arm and urges him in, shutting the door behind him.
And the last thing the man sees is a small pale arm reaching back for him and pleading aqua orbs asking him why.
The following is a bunch of things that I feel like sharing about my life at the moment. Why am I sharing? Because it can’t be used against me! And I’m bored so sue me.
Current News From Miko
I’ve now gotten sucked into yet another anime. And I cried twice through a anime movie. Sadly, Angrily, and Bitterly. First, I watched the movie straight after school with a friend. Now, normally I don’t watch too much anime fluff, but out of the options my friend showed me, I picked Summer Wars and boy was I destroyed emotionally with it. It was a really great movie. Very funny and totally drew me – as said previously, I cried. (I also decided to play Words With Friends while through the fighting scenes with the AI and well….lol, I love you Matt, I really do.)
As for the anime, after the movie my friend picked a DVD case and handed it to me, going “How ’bout this?” And I was like “I totally have homework to do, but hells yeah let’s watch! The guy on the cover looks cute anyways.”
So we watched the anime (Black Blood Brothers) and in the very first episode, I heard the main character’s voice and I kept thinking “I have heard this before!” The whole time I was watching it felt like a tiny elf was stabbing me in the ribcage trying to get my attention because deep down I knew that voice. Then the fighting scene on the boat occurred and I heard the most sexy purr from Jiro and I screamed and punched my friend in the stomach. “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! WHERE’S MY PHONE!” And he went, “Don’t tell me…” And I nodded frantically while pulling my phone out and googling the voice actor cast, “Add a British accent and… ” I shoved my phone into his face, “SEBASTIAAAAANNNNNNNNN!!!!!!”
I then proceeded to have a meltdown while squealing my head off. Sebastian as a vampire?! Like WTF, I AM HOOKED. I love this anime and I love J. Michael Tatum. And the sad part of my obsession (or the really cool part) is that I have this tendency to pick out J. Michael Tatum’s voice in any anime I watch. No matter how he changes his voice to fit the actors, my Sebastian senses kick in and I google and yup, Sebastian. It annoys my friends that I can do that.
And speaking of Sebastian, I will finally start to gush on here about season three of Black Butler coming out!!!!!! I’m soooo happy! Extremely. Especially, since the new season will be following the manga and will be on my favorite arc: Noah’s Circus. The new promo vid for it has been launched already and a new OVA will be released along with the season as well. For more information, click here.
I’m also waiting anxiously for the subbed version of the Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) movie, so if anyone has even the tiniest bit of information on that please tell me.
And for more news, I’m going to Europe in I think about two and a half weeks. So I’m pretty pumped for that as well. I plan on hibernating the night before and then not sleeping for the whole plane trip there. I hate the idea of falling asleep on an airplane, so I refuse to do it. No matter where I go, no matter the destination or how comfy the airplane seats are, I’ve never fallen asleep on a plane before. Even when I was little. I simply can’t do it. It’s icky-ish. My reason for this is because if I die (most likely won’t happen), I would like to see how I go. I’m not the type that wants to die in their sleep.
And so knowing all this, last weekend my friends took me to see Non-Stop. Barrel of laughs that was. Whoo hop. I can’t wait to get onto an airplane. At the very least, I now know what to do in case there’s a bomb on board, right? I’m prepared, yes?
Also, I’m now debating whether I should continue with my idea of Louis Peep and the Peep-cine or should I go with Asexual Peepduction? I’m also quite vehemently filled with jealousy as one of my friends told me his diorama is titled “Peeping Tom” and is on the invention of the microscope. So jealous of his brilliance.
And I guess that’s it for now then. Bye my peeps!
So as hinted from my last post, there was much homework to be done. Much. And I put it off until late, then I steadily worked through the stack until all that remained was Economics. The third part to our IA’s. This, this, I started at 1 am in the morning. So I unfortunately had to pull an all nighter to get it done. But it was done and turned in. I’m still missing part two though, which is quite sad as this means there’s a giant middle chunk missing of my whole IA which is, even sadder, due this Sunday. Online.
I should have done it a long time ago and I actually did start it, but could not finish because I didn’t know what I was writing about. I still don’t understand that section at all. The first section was on supply and demand, etc etc. Easy stuff. Was a whiz doing. The third section was on trade (quotas, tariffs, etc.) And while a tiny bit harder, still was decent. But the second section? I just couldn’t understand monetary and fiscal policy for the life of me! Everyone else could so… it’s not them, it’s me. I’m retarded. (Haha no…)
On the bright side, for extra credit, my Bio teacher assigned a project in which we get to use PEEPS. Marshmellow peeps! We get to make dioramas out of peeps and they must be about a significant moment in biology history. So I’ve been wracking my brain for an idea. I’ve been thinking about maybe doing something on Louis Pasteur where it’d be titled “Louis Peep and The Peep-cine”… what do you all think?
The picture is of my pants….my pj pants that I wore to school since after not sleeping at all, I was simply done this morning.
I came in my damn pj’s. Go ahead and judge.
Let me start this right off with my own personal belief that people don’t change. People honestly do not change.
Now, don’t get me wrong. This isn’t a pessimistic statement and I’m not that kid dressed in pure black, standing in a corner, and pointing fingers at everyone who is having fun in their lives, calling them all “posers!”, while also simultaneously making sure to never enjoy life in any way. It’s not supposed to be a destroying view/position. I simply mean that in real life, people, once they’ve determined who they are (whether consciously or subconsciously), don’t ever change from that. Sure, people can improve who they are personality-wise, etc. but that certainly doesn’t mean they’ll do a complete 360 degree forever.
They sure can try though. And that sometimes, I think, is sadder than their original, true self that they were trying to improve on.
A while ago, I wrote something as a chapter in a flash fiction thing I was doing on another site. To me, while it doesn’t really ‘fit’ with what I’ve just said previously, it somehow adds to what I’m trying to say. I’m not good with words, well not as good as I’d like to be, and more often than not I’m horribly misunderstood (in the “I can’t believe you just said that, you uncaring bitch!”), but that’s okay with me. At least, I tried. So here goes:
When you’re lost, you feel like you’ll never find your way.
You wander aimlessly, searching, hoping.
Sometimes there’s days you don’t want to be found.
You run, hide, rebel in every way.
Even if it’s the worst for you.
Sometimes you just need to let yourself be found.
My thoughts are everywhere today. I can’t seem to get a good firm grasp on them nor can I seem to make them focus on one sole thing. I have much to do, much to start, and much to finish. There is a pile of homework next to me and there are two quarter started chapters lying limp and tragically orphaned on my flashdrive. (I finally invested in one of those.) Will I start/finish them?
But as for this post, it is the result of reading a spectacular piece (their book will soon be coming out and I suggest everyone to read it when it does) concerning relationships and how (which sadly happens often around the world a lot) people morph themselves into what they think their partner would approve of.
I, for one, briefly did this. I tried to change myself into fitting the mold that would satisfy that ‘special’ (haha!) person. But, bit by bit, the “me” would shine through. You see, I could only hide who I really was for so long before the mask I was using began to crack and splinter. And then what? They were not happy with who I was.
They did not understand that I simply could not get animated enough to want to fully immerse myself into a physical relationship. They could not understand that I did not want to drink, smoke, or do weed. And the worst part, they could not understand my dream.
In order to continue the relationship, I would have to forgo who I was. And by that point, I realized I simply could not do that. Forget wanting to or trying to, it simply wasn’t possible. I tried it out for two years and where did it get me? Absolutely no where. What did it get me? Two wasted years that could’ve been spent hanging out with friends that I had pushed aside. I couldn’t do it any longer. I could try and I’ve been taught to always try, but in the end – People Don’t Change.
I’m thankful I realized this early in life. I know some can go for decades without realizing this. Can continue doing unhealthy things because they don’t. For example, abusive relationships. Why does one partner decide to remain with someone who abuses them? With someone who can’t change? Everyone sees it, but they don’t. And that’s because they haven’t come to terms with the fact that people don’t change. You can improve yourself, you just can’t make a completely new you. There is no avatar/user profile making going on.
People Don’t Change.
And Sometimes Fear Makes People Do Stupid Things
Upon realizing, the doom of the relationship, I did the worst thing ever. I made sure I wasn’t the one to end it – because I was afraid. I did not want to give up, but more importantly, I did not want to be the one to end it all after so many things. It was pride mostly. See, I had sacrificed a few things to ‘change’ who I was and if I called it quits, then what were all those sacrifices for? Nothing. Wasted, meaningless sacrifices = stupid to me. Who wants to be stupid? No one.
So I waited. I waited and waited for an ending that I knew was coming. And when it wasn’t coming fast enough, I sped it up. I purposefully did one thing that will forever be grained into the memory of that person, eternally destroying one moment that usually is very important in a senior’s life.
I wrecked Prom for them. I kind of still laugh about it now, briefly. Then I sober up and think what kind of horrible person am I for doing that. Of course, I didn’t do something horrendous like cheat or anything of the sort, but I did make a promise I knew I wouldn’t keep. And why? So that they’d be mad at me. Mad enough to end the relationship. All because I didn’t have the big enough backbone to do it myself. That’s just spite and it’s also called being a coward.
I did learn from it though. I learned a lot from just one relationship. Am I actively seeking another? Hell no. I want to relax for a bit.
But when I do, I already know what I’m going to do.
I’m going to be me.
Yesterday in my Theory of Knowledge class, we were given a ten minute class assignment on write a quick one page response on a quote. Currently, we are on the subject of Ethics and Morals and so there is much, much room to discuss as morals and ethics are subject to everyone’s interpretations and so on. Here was my response. Mind you, I am being very serious. I just chose to be serious in my own way.
“We may not always have the moral strength to bridge the gap between our ideals and our actions, but we have the moral duty to try.”
– Michael Josephson
“The moral duty to try.” Duty means an obligation, therefore this means that we are obligated to try to make the morally right decision at all times. As for myself, I try to follow this. I try to do what’s right – what I believe is right at least – and in doing so, life gets hard.
It’s not easy to do the right thing. In fact, it rarely ever is easy to do the right thing. Usually, it’s kind of hard. “We may not always have the moral strength to bridge the gap between our ideals and our actions” but yes, we do have to try. Trying to make that bridge, trying to leap across a gap between two mountains is not a ‘try’ spent in vain. Or rather, trying to get to the other side has to be better than just standing on one mountain and glumly gazing at the other.
This also calls to mind a particular scene in Lord of The Rings, the famous “Run, you fools” moment. Gandalf tried and in doing so, saved everyone else. Gandalf saved lives. So who knows? Maybe by trying to the morally correct thing, you could be ‘saving’ a bunch of lives. You could be a Gandalf.
And who wouldn’t want to be a Gandalf?
Written for the DP Challenge: Writerly Reflections
When I was thirteen, I asked my mother if she wanted me.
See, in school that day, the topic brought up over tater tots and milk cartons was of bastard babies and whether we were ones. Naturally as soon as I got home, I popped the question to my mother. “Did you want me? Was I planned?”
My mother paused from cooking and wrapped me in her arms. “You have no idea how much I wanted you.”
I thought nothing of it until I went to bed. That’s when I remembered that before me, I had four other siblings.
I didn’t know what their names were, hesitated to even ask if my parents had gotten to name them before they were lost, but reflecting on that, it was clear that yeah, I had been wanted.
And though, I knew deep in my heart that I was/am precious to my mother, there was a period of my very young life where I felt deep resentment towards my parents. That’s where books opened my eyes to what I had.
From when we were babies, my brother and I, we were by our mother’s side everywhere she went, including work. My mother worked cleaning houses and to this day, I’m still amazed at how she bravely marched from home to home, carrying us with her. At first, she’d plant us in a corner with toys and blankets and somehow we understood her pleading to stay in one spot and to keep quiet. Then, as we got older, she’d bring piles and piles of picture books and leave them in front of us. I was three and my brother was two.
We didn’t know how to read. But we could entertain ourselves with the pictures. So we did. Day after day, we flipped through old picture books bought from yard sales or given by friends and since at night, our mother would read to us from the very same books, we could later piece together what we were looking at and when the stories would change when we ‘read’ them by ourselves.
When I finally entered k-4, I already could read the “See spot run” books pretty well. And all that was due to a mother who could hardly speak English herself.
Once I improved my reading abilities, my mother would bring me to the library on the weekends and I would take out stacks and stacks of books. Then, later when she’d take us to work, I would read to my little brother.
Those books were how we escaped.
A lot of people say that when you’re young, you feel no shame – looks wise and all.
That’s not true.
I knew what embarrassment was back then and I felt it, hardcore. Deep in the pit of my stomach and often I’d wish the ground would swallow me whole. I was four and I cringed under the gaze of the random people who lived in those houses. I dreaded the day where I’d end up seeing them at a grocery store or their kids at school. That, I think, was the worse.
Every time my mother would walk into someone else’s home, carrying her supplies, I would trail in after her with my brother and the first thing I did, was drag ourselves to a corner, away from hopefully everyone who lived there. I prayed no one would look at me or him. I curled in that corner and sometimes I’d cry at how embarrassed I felt.
Other kids had parents who were lawyers, firefighters, and doctors.
I had a mother who cleaned up after everyone else and a father who cut people’s lawns.
Back then, I felt like I had nothing to be proud of.
But, reading kept me going, kept me from focusing on the mean comments the kids of those houses whispered about my brother and I, and finally kept me from feeling the shame I shouldn’t have felt – even if only for a few hours. That is how I fell in love with books. Because escaping the real world was suddenly a possibility and all I had to do was open a book.
When I grew older, I started to experiment with writing my own things. I wanted to create something that some one else could escape in. How wonderful would that be, I’d think to myself. If my words, even just for a second, could shield someone from an ounce of pain. Now I know I had nothing to be ashamed of. Now I feel proud of my mother and love her all the more for what she did for us. Those houses were how my brother and I stayed in private school all throughout pre-school, elementary, and most of middle school. But I didn’t think that then. And I know a lot of kids don’t think that then.
So I started writing.
I wasn’t very good.
But, I did have very encouraging teachers who even bought my ‘chapters’ from me (there’s no love like a teacher’s love), just to keep me from giving up.
I think the very first story I wrote was about a superhero and all his adventures. My dad still keeps it on his computer and has several back ups of all the chapters I had written. Every now and again, I re-read them and make fun of myself for ever writing them. All harmless though and it brings back very good memories.
Someday, I hope to be published.
In the meantime, I steadily try to improve my writing, by writing when I can and as much as I can. I show my stuff to friends, teachers, and yes, online. Every comment, negative or positive, is truly helpful and my confidence grows.
One day, I’ll have something of mine be published. And then I’ll sit down next to her, and I’ll read my book to her. And she’ll know how much I’m glad she wanted me.
“Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.”
― William Shakespeare, Shakespeare’s Sonnets
Today is a day of celebration for my brother and I.
You see, our internet is finally back on and so we are finally putting our laptops back to full use. About two-ish weeks ago, our mother, out of the blue, decided that she had a personal vendetta against the verizon company and so she cut off our internet, immediately. Without warning or notice.
You don’t do that to teenagers.
You don’t that to anyone.
Imagine coming home, exhausted and overwhelmed, and you slump onto a couch and pull out your laptop to use the internet for hopefully 4 hours at the most. The need to look at cat pictures, watch youtube (the how to basic videos, lol), and to wordpress…is very strong and so you open your paperweight and you click on the internet icon.
And then, the no internet connection pops up. Just like that.
Your sibling comes running into the living room, screaming and pointing to his own laptop. The demands “Fix this!!” are heard across the whole house. And everything crashes down.
Super depressing that day was. Worst yet, was my parents had left their phones at home, so not even explanations for what had happened. The whole day was spent in anguish. Terror. Self-pity. The feelings you get after watching the movie, Carriers. Like someone punched you in the gut, then grabbed it, and ripped it straight out of your belly. That kinda awful feeling.
And finally, when my parents got home, my mother simply said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you, I cut off the internet. When I get around to it, I’ll call and have it put up again by a different company. In the meantime, use your phones.”
I did use my phone’s internet for awhile, but there’s only so much you can do before your thumbs start aching. And more important than sore thumbs was, you can’t use your phone for certain things done on the internet. I can’t watch movies on my phone (watch for free, I mean…) You can’t turn in assignments so easily. You can’t game, you can’t post documents without messing it up somehow, etc etc. And thus we turned to what we had left. School computers.
I spent my afternoons at school. I spent more time at school than any sane person would like to.
BUT NOW, thankfully, it’s back and faster than before! The buffering circle has disappeared!
Comcast, I love you.
And besides the internet being back on, most of my school work has lessened!
That’s a lie actually, but the workload did decrease a tiny wee bit. I now am only behind-ish in two classes, instead of all of them. So I’m pretty happy with that. Satisfied more like it, rather than happy.
And that’s pretty much how things are at the moment.
Oh and my English oral is coming up. In two days. Yay.