1-10-12: brown paper packages, young revolutionaries

   When I arrived home from school yesterday, there was a very large parcel waiting at my door. It was addressed to me. I ran inside with it and ripped it open while my mom was still getting out of the car. Inside the box was something moderately large and heavy and rectangular, wrapped in greenish-white paper. It was from Barnes and Noble. I ripped off the packaging to find this:

   The Art of Rise of the Guardians! It's this huge book with a ton of concept art from the film. It's really fascinating and gorgeous. I wanted it for Christmas, but I had forgotten about it. Apparently, it's a late gift from my aunt. Thank you, marvelous aunt! <3

There is some really fantastic, inspirational art in here. Lots of really cool sketches of the characters and colorful paintings of backgrounds and CGI models of things. When I first opened it, I skimmed through the book, but then I went to the table of contents and searched for Jack, of course. :3 His concepts are really interesting. I would have taken some pictures to put on here, but I was too lazy, so here are some photos from Google Images. 

    I think that I might enter a piece of Jack Frost into the Art Extravaganza this year. There are some gorgeous paintings in the book, an I might do one in this sort of color chip style. I haven't had much painting experience, so we'll have to see. I wonder if they accept digital art…?

   Speaking of digital art, I finished my drawing of Enjolras. :D

   I had issues with his clothing, which is why his outfit is so simple. But I did try my best to make him look like Aaron Tveit. :3 His hair was the bane of my life for a while there. I'm glad this is finally finished. Now I'm working on a drawing of Rose Lalonde.There will also be more Les Mis art coming. Muahaha. 

Now I leave you with a quote, because I've been forgetting to do that recently. From Enjolras: "Who cares about your lonely soul?!" I think that sums up his soullessness pretty well. xD

  

1-6-13: more art and some enjolfabulous

Here's Jade Harley and Becquerel. If I ever get a large white dog with pointy ears, I will name it Becquerel. 

Ugh, her foot is going to annoy me forever. It looks like a squashed pickle. *note to self: learn how to draw feet properly**note to self: learn how to shade properly* *note to self: learn how to do art*

I'm going to draw the boys from the barricade next. It shall be fun. I started a drawing of Enjolras. It's a bit of a close-up, and I'm using a specific color palette. This one, to be exact:

I was really sick yesterday, but I'm better today. School starts tomorrow and I am not ready. Bio quiz Tuesday. Gotta finish my Christmas blogs. How can I continue to write Christmas blogs if it's no longer Christmas?

On a better note, I found this fabulous gif.

Let's just not talk about the old Spiderman franchise. Or the fact that school is starting tomorrow.

Maybe this gif would be more appropriate.

Yes. That gif is more appropriate.

Can I just say that I find that gif reallly funny, though? Because the Doctor just opens his mouth like a whale or something and the woman just bounces over to him.

Now that we're on a gif tangent, here are some of Enjolras. Bask in his glory.

 That third one would technically be considered a gif of Aaron Tveit, not Enjolras. So there is that.

Okay, now this one. See the face he makes? I freeze-framed it for your convenience.

This needs to be my new icon. For everything.

Okay, that's the end of my gif tangent. Now I'll go mourn the end of vacation.

1-1-12: year new

(Sorry that this is late. Also, sorry my Christmas blogs aren't in order. :/)

Happy new year! Whoo. Congrats on surviving the end of the world. My achievements from last year involve being represented by a piece of confetti at the olympic games, and that's about it. I have this jar, and every time something nice happens this year I'm going to write it down and put it in the jar. Then on New Year's Eve I'll take them all out and read them.

I wish it was the beginning of Christmas break instead of the end.

I went out in the snow today, which is still here, and took some photos. Now darkness is falling. It is the first darkness of 2013, in a way.

Today we went to that amazing Chinese restaurant again. I ate some sushi. I now know that I do not like sushi. It was fiendishly chewy and sticky, which is awful for a person bearing a full set of braces. The little marshmallow-chocolate squares were delicious, though.

I keep thinking back to last Wednesday, when we had just seen Les Mis and were driving along as it snowed. I wish I could go back to that moment and stay there forever.

I'm going now to write some more of Half. I think I might turn it into a full-length novel. I'm changing the name to Wind Down, for the moment. Not wind as in the stuff that smacks you in the face when you step outside during a snowstorm, but wind as in winding a clock. I started writing ideas for it in my Epic Project Moleskine notebook, and I already have three full pages of ideas and many more to come. The story is unfolding itself wonderfully, unlike my NaNoWriMo, which had to be forced to reveal its secrets.

Now I leave you with one small line from "Sadseasong", by A Fine Frenzy: "Down, down, how I miss you now."

1-4-13: let the wine of friendship never run dry

OH MY GOSH THIS JUST MAKES ME REALLY EMOTIONAL OKAY

JUST NDJKA;HD;SADA

AARON TVEIT JUST LISTEN TO HIM

LET THE WINE OF FRIENDSHIP NEVER RUN DRY

THEY'RE ALL GOING TO BE DEAD SOON

I JUST

AR Edit: They deleted the video but that's okay because I stILL HAVE FEELINGS. 

Crying Doctor gif is always relevant. Speaking of Doctor Who, I finally watched the Christmas special. It was pretty good. Now I have to wait until April for the rest of Season 7. *bangs head against wall*

I'm going to start reading the unabridged Les Mis soon, because I've had a copy sitting on my dresser since October. I can't wait to get to the parts about the barricade, but first I have many pages and many political rants to get through. Silly Victor Hugo. Blathering on about politics and killing off everyone's OTPs. Except for Marius and Cosette, of course.

I saw Les Mis again today, with Ash. We ate in Chick-Fil-A beforehand, and when we got to the theater some people our age in the back row yelled at us to sit with them because I was wearing a Sherlock t-shirt. We ended up talking about fandoms. It was fun.

I'm going to go now and listen to the above song ten or more times.

Half, pt. 7

  The first thing Eve noticed was that the door to her home was hanging off its hinges.

  She stopped suddenly, brow furrowed. There was something wrong. Her mom always closed the front door.

  She turned toward Doc, who was looking at her, his window rolled down. Silas was peering at her curiously. “Hold on, Doc. Last time I checked, the door wasn't . . . broken. I'm going to see if everything's alright,” she called urgently, already making her way toward the house. She took fast steps, her heart fluttering in worry. She leaped up the stairs to the door and entered, looking around, but stopped when she got through the doorway. The lights were out, and everything was eerily silent. Why wasn't dinner on the stove? Why wasn't the scent of something cooking pervading the house? “Mom?” Eve called nervously. Wind whistled eerily past the gaping doorway behind her, and everything seemed to slow down around her. An ominous feeling swept over her skin, a creepy foreboding that threatened to overwhelm her sense. 

   She noticed something on the floor in the living room.

   She stepped quickly into the room and stopped, frozen, as she stared at what was on the ground. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, louder than usual, and the world seemed to blur around her.

  Silence.

  She shrank to her knees.

  Then an animalistic scream, louder than any sound she had ever made, tore itself from her throat.

  Eve screamed and screamed and screamed, every muscle in her body shaking with the force of her grief. She clutched her mother's cold body and pressed her face to her cheek and prayed for a breath of air from her lips, a flutter of life in her body. But there was none. And Eve screamed until her voice broke and her throat bled and there was blood everywhere, in her mouth, on her hands, soaking her blouse.     
  There was nothing to her anymore.

  Someone's arms wrapped around her.

  A voice echoed, breaking through the ringing in her ears, sending pieces of glittering glass flying through time and space.

  "Eve… Eve, I'm getting you out -"
  Violent heat, red-hot anger, split the air, split her to the core. Her throat ached. She clawed at their arms.

  Don't take me away from her.

  DON'T TAKE ME -

  "No! No! Nononono -”

  Everything blurry.

  All red.

  Something broke in her, and she felt it deep down, like a tiny glass rod snapping in two, small and sharp.

  No more fighting.

  Just crimson darkness.

  The arms carrying her were solid and true. They wouldn't let her fall.

  Sounds refracted around her. A piercing alarm, loud and urgent voices. Then a crack, the slam of a car door, and everything was silent. Everything was dark.

  There was no noise anymore.

  She struggled for breath, drowning. No air.

  Her mother was dead.

  She opened her eyes.

  Revolving lights, burning white, skated repeatedly across her vision. Formless shapes moved outside the protection of Doc's hovercraft and swarmed inside the house, through the hallowed doorways, invading what she had always known and stealing it away from her. But she herself was safe from them, out of their reach. She had been touched by a different affliction – she was safe, but alone now.

  Only not.

  She was turned sideways in the backseat, leaning against someone, or rather lying on someone, who had one arm curled around her.

  The brightness lanced her vision. She closed her eyes tightly and turned her head away, her cheek resting against someone's solid warmth. She was nestled comfortably against them, away from the trauma and loudness outside. She rose and fell as with their breathing. She existed in the darkness as with their heartbeat, like it wasn't her own heart keeping her alive but theirs instead, keeping vital blood pouring through her veins. Blood that her dead mother lacked.

  With tears drying on her face, she found herself drifting into a wretched sleep, wrapped in an orange blanket that was tucked around her shoulders. Someone held her hand – an angel.

  Dark and incomprehensible nightmares swirled through her mind, like glittering ribbons of indefinite black smoke, wavering at the edges, swelling and shrinking in volume.

  She opened her eyes to vague light - not enough to scare away the monsters.

  She sat up. Her hands pressed into something soft, and a blanket slipped off her upper body. She put a hand to her head, clammy skin against feverish skin. Bloody, terrible images assaulted her mind.

  Wincing, she shook her head to clear it. She looked down at herself. Someone had cleaned the blood off her arms and removed her bloodied blouse, leaving her in just the black tank top she'd been wearing underneath and her pants.

  “Hello?” she cried raspily. Her throat throbbed painfully, like needles pressing against her esophagus. She squinted at the light - a small candle on a nearby nightstand.

  “Hello?” she called again, louder this time. She gasped for air and hunched forward, coughing with one hand around her throat. She tasted blood.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  Don't be dead.

  A small amount of light pervaded the area as a lamp in the corner switched on. Doc came quickly to her bedside and took her hand. His fingers were warm and dry against hers. Somehow a chair was there, and he sat in it, leaning toward her. She blinked hard, trying to make sense of his face. She recognized her surroundings now – she was in some part of the building where she had come for her job, on a cot behind a screen.

  “You've been through a lot tonight,” Doc said softly, patting her hand. She closed her eyes again, feeling dizzy.

  “My head,” she murmured weakly, touching her temple for a moment. She looked at him suddenly, and the tears that were already there made her vision swim. “My mother.”

  “I'm so sorry, Eve,” said Doc sincerely, his face sad. After seeing him that day, full of sheer joy, she was saddened by how broken he looked.

  Detached memories floated in her head, along with questions. Her mother's face. The warmth of her embrace. The scent of the flowers that she kept potted on the windowsill. And fresher, darker memories – the image of her mother, bloodied on the floor, that she forced out of her mind, the darkness of the silent backseat. Suddenly she remembered Doc outside the car, his silhouette blurred by her tears but his glasses and lab coat distinctively highlighted against the bright whiteness.

  “Who carried me?” she managed, her voice low and quiet so that it wouldn't hurt. “It wasn't you. Who was there with me?”

  Doc looked at her sympathetically. “When you screamed, Silas got there before I could. He made sure you got out of there safely.”

  Silas.

  She had misjudged him.

  She wondered where he was, but Doc was still speaking softly. “They're going to find out who did it, Eve.”

  Eve's head spun, and the knowledge that her mother was dead hit her again, stealing away her breath and her sanity. So much life, so much goodness, gone in an instant.

  “I made sure everything was okay with the police,” Doc acknowledged. He seemed to take a cautionary breath before saying, “They took your mother away. Tomorrow I'll help you make arrangements for the funeral.”

  Eve blinked, and the weight of his words threatened to crush her. She teetered uneasily. “Why would someone do this?” she spat out suddenly, her voice loud and broken. “Why would they do anything like this -” she broke off, and tears ran down her cheeks, fast and endless.

  Doc's anguished face loomed at the corner of her eyesight. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Do you think. . . we could go back tomorrow? Maybe get some of your things -”

  “No,” Eve butted in forcefully. “No, I can't go back there. Not anytime soon.”

  There was a pause. Eve felt empty.

  “You have a job here, Eve,” murmured Doc. “And you can stay here for as long as you need to.”

  Overwhelmed, Eve sniffled and gave him a watery smile. “Thank you... so much. Thank you for being so kind to me.”

  “You're very welcome,” he said softly.

  Doc stood up, removing his hand from hers. “I was just going to check up on things over there. Go back to sleep; you need it. And Silas is here if you need anything else.” He moved toward the screen, then stopped. “Eve, I'm so sorry.”

  He turned out the lights and was gone. The small candle still burned.

  Eve slipped downward, against the soft mattress, pulling the warm covers over herself.

  She needed to thank Silas.

  Exhaustedly, she thought about him, eyes closed, cheek resting against the pillow. Doc had said that Silas was here if she needed anything, but how exactly was she supposed to go about summoning Silas? Was she supposed to shout, “Silas, give me that thing that I need”? Was she supposed to seek him out? She was not getting out of this comfortable bed under any circumstances. No, going to Silas had to wait until morning.

  She let go of her mind. She felt too numb to hold any tangible thought, too weak and sad. But the darkness was welcoming, was complete, when everything in her life had shattered so suddenly. She succumbed to it. This slumber was easier than the last.

  As it turned out, it was Silas who went to her first. 

Half, pt. 6

  The brown building stood before Eve. 
  She reached into her sack, pulled out the newspaper ad, and squinted at the address, then blinked back up at the building. She was in the right place, but it certainly didn't look like much of a laboratory.

  It was a long, dark building. A dirt road stretched across the ground, wound around the building, and continued on to the right, as far off into the trees as Eve could see. Dirt wasn't good for a hovercraft. Eve had taken the subway as far as she could, but that had only taken her to the edges of the city, to the little towns on the outskirts. She had had to take a taxi the rest of the way.

  She walked curiously towards the door and pushed it open. A blast of musty air met her, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark surroundings. A delighted smile spread across her face.The room was filled with gleaming mechanical devices – hanging from the ceiling, lined up on tall and leaning shelves, crowding the tops of tables. Sunlight from the open door illuminated the dust that swirled indefinitely across the air and gleamed off the foreign creations. Eve reached up and touched one of the globular devices.

  “Why, hello there!” cried a voice. Surprised, Eve snatched her hand away from the metal orb. A man in a long white coat stepped into the light. He was taller than Eve. He had short dark hair sprinkled throughout with gray and a short beard with similar coloring. A pair of soft brown eyes peered clearly through his bronze-framed glasses, bright with amusement. He took two huge steps forward and grasped Eve's hand warmly, grinning at her.

  Eve swallowed. “Hi,” she said softly, putting on a small smile. His presence was gentle and strong, and his kindness soothed her nerves.

  After shaking her hand, the man seemed to notice her wrist. Instead of letting go of her hand, he brought it closer to his face, his eyes wide as he stared at it. He moved a hand up to the temple of his glasses and tapped it, and two magnificating lenses, like tiny bronze telescopes, sprouted from the frames to zoom in on Eve's wrist. “My darling, you don't have a clock!”

  “I know,” muttered Eve.

  But the man spread his arms wide, letting Eve's wrist drop to her side. “No matter!” he boomed jovially. “It's quite fascinating, actually. It's very nice to meet you, my dear. Do you think you could disclose your name to me?”

  “I'm Eve,” she stammered, flustered. “I'm here for the job. In the newspaper.” She yanked the crumpled ad from her pocket and held it up to him. He took it with a flourish and motioned toward a long desk near the door, still looking odd in his zoomed-in glasses.   “Yes! Of course!” 
   Eve awkwardly sat down in a chair in front of it, which was crafted from gears and beams of metal and didn't look very stable. her mind raced as the man moved around to the other side. How could he just dismiss her clock like that? Was she being played with?

  The man sat down heavily behind the desk and straightened his glasses. The tellescopes popped back into the frame, disappearing. He folded his fingers and leaned forward, looking steadily at Eve. She stared at him, wide-eyed, then plastered on a small smile because she didn't know what else to do.

  “So, Eve,” said the man happily. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Eve swallowed nervously. “Um, sir, what is. . . your name?”

  He moved backwards in a peculiar way, like a sort of ecstatic leap, his face lighting up with mirth. “Oh, yes! I forgot to tell you!” he laughed. “I'm the Doctor!”

  “Doctor... who?” Eve asked, hoping that she wasn't being too forward.

  “Doctor Beckett!” he said happily. “But you can call me Doc.”

  “Okay,” Eve said, pretty sure that she wasn't going to call him Doc, ever. “Okay, uh,” she laughed nervously. She dug a hand inside her satchel, closed her fingers around something cold and hard, and placed it on the desk. “I like to build things. Small things. This is one of them.” It was a spider, constructed from a lightbulb and a few intricate pipes and joints. It gleamed in the dim light, and Eve swiped a bit of dust from the lightbulb part.

  The doctor picked it up delicately. “Fascinating!” he exclaimed. He ran a finger softly across one of the tiny, thin pipes making up the spider's fifth leg. His face was etched with delight and sheer joy. “What does it do?” he asked, his voice raised with excitement. Eve watched him with surprised amusement. He was like a child, happy over a new toy.

  Eve gently removed the spider from his palm and turned the tiny dial on its underside. “It just. . .” She set it down on the desk, and it began scurrying towards the doctor. He gave a small exclamation of surprise and let out a laugh. “Fascinating! Absolutely incredible!” he cried. “Where did you learn to build something so detailed?”

  Eve blushed, looking down to hide her face. No one ever praised her work, aside from her mother. “I started off just building creatures out of wires and screws and things,” she explained. “But then I wanted to see if I could make them move. So I tried using more advanced pieces, on a smaller scale-”

  She couldn't finish her sentence before the doctor had leapt up, startling Eve and making her grin. “It's PERFECT!” he boomed, his face radiant. Eve laughed. “I don't. . . um, thank you,” she spluttered, but the doctor had already raced through the doorway that he had previously emerged from. “Silas! Silas! Look at this! Look at it!”

  Eve couldn't see down the hallway behind the doorway. She took a few urgent steps forward. A different voice, raised in admiration, was audible from somewhere. Eve entered the doorway and turned a corner down a musty hallway. In front of her was another doorway through which light burst, allowing her to see the doctor crouched over something – a person, it seemed. “That's marvelous, doc,” they said. The Doctor cried, “It's completely incredible! Totally amazing! Absolutely fascinating!"

  Eve entered the room silently and tentatively, slightly embarrassed by his delight at her work. Her foot bumped a random pipe on the floor, and a metallic scrape echoed throughout the room as it moved a few inches forward. The doctor's face snapped around to meet hers. Someone sitting behind him tilted slightly to the left to see her.

  It was a boy seemingly around her age. It was always a boy, thought Eve begrudgingly. Boys and their soulmates and their cruel laughter. She assumed he was Silas, whom she had heard Doc yelling at a moment ago over Eve's spider. He had olive skin and short hair that matched the dark color of his eyes. He was sitting behind Doc, watching her with his eyebrows slightly raised. Eve looked at him expressionlessly. He had the same basic looks as most of the people in the city – dark hair and eyes with skin reminiscent of light coffee – but in a way, his face seemed different, more alive and more attentive than those of the people she knew. He probably had already found his soulmate, thought Eve, and would probably ridicule her for her lack of a clock.

  She was too busy staring at him, analyzing him, to realize that he had said hello to her, raising a gloved hand in greeting.

  “Hi,” she muttered, looking back at Doc. He was still grinning, practically quivering with excitement. He grabbed her hand and yanked her closer to the circle. “Eve, my darling! Your utterly fascinating little creation is most outstanding!!”

  “It's, uh, yeah, it's just a spider,” she blushed, Silas smiled, and she noticed he was still looking at her. She looked away quickly, blushing even more and already disliking him. He wasn't even -

  “Do you have any more?” asked the Doctor with vigor.

  Eve dug a hand inside her bag and began placing all of her little mechanisms on a nearby table. A bird, a frog, a mouse. She could just as well build larger machines that actually served some sort of purpose, but she enjoyed the intricacy of creating small things. She loved animals, and she liked to try to replicate their organic shapes and movements in something mechanical. The doctor picked up each piece with an exclamation of wonder. Soon Eve's satchel was emptied, and the doctor was examining each one, speaking in rapid intonations with the word “fascinating” clearly audible at random intervals.

  Eve looked past him, and she noticed a large structure standing in the corner of the room, against the peeling vintage wallpaper. It was tall and rectangular, covered by a heavy green velvet curtain. She squinted at it. The shape and size fascinated her, although it couldn't be anything more than an old bookshelf.

  “Doctor, what's that?” she asked, pointing at it.

  The Doctor looked at the structure, then looked at her.

  Silas spoke first. “That's the reason why you're here right now,” he chimed. Eve cast him a glance. He was leaning against the wall, a little ways away from the table where she stood with the Doctor, with his arms folded. He tugged on the sleeve of his brown corduroy jacket. He was dressed in a way that was simple and slightly boring, far behind the current city trends. The way he watched Eve, with a condescending, knowing gaze, made her roll her eyes and look back at the covered structure.

  The Doctor grabbed her arm and spun her toward the door. “You will learn about that mysterious object, but it will have to wait until tomorrow!” he said with glee, leading Eve back into the main room.

  “Does that mean I have a job?” Eve asked in wonder, feeling the weight of her empty satchel and realizing that all of her wind-ups had been left in the workroom.

  The Doctor stopped near the front door and swiveled Eve so that she faced him. “Quite possibly, my dear,” he said cheerfully. “But may I tell you that your skills are absolutely unmatched?”

  “Hold on,” said Eve, looking at him intently. “What about... my clock?”

  The Doctor seemed nonplussed. “What about it?”

  “Um, it's been sort of a problem for me lately.” She stared down at her markless wrists.      “No one really seems to... accept the fact that I don't have one. I can't get a job. Anywhere.” Her voice had descended into a quiet, embarrassed mumble. “No one else has this problem.”

  But the Doctor smiled and placed both hands on her shoulders. Eve glanced at his clock, with the numbers set at zero. “Dearest Eve. What's on your wrist doesn't matter to me.    What matters is what's inside your head, what's inside your heart. I need someone unique for this job, someone with who is skilled and individual. And let me tell you, Eve – you are very special.” He smiled knowingly, and his eyes gazed kindly into hers. Although she didn't understand why he was being so cryptic with whether or not she had gotten the job, Eve was comforted by his words and amazed that someone she had met not even an hour ago could be so kind to her, even like a father.

  “Did you see Silas today, Eve?”

  Eve nodded, slightly begrudgingly. She didn't really want to talk about Silas.

  “Did you notice...?” The Doctor trailed off and waited for Eve's answer.

  “Notice... what?” Eve said carefully.

  The Doctor shook his head. “Nevermind. That, too, will have to wait until tomorrow.” He removed his hands from her shoulders and removed a small card from his pocket, placing it in Eve's palm. “Here's my card. I'd like you to come back tomorrow, Eve, if that's possible,” he smiled.

  “Okay,” Eve shrugged, her heart soaring. The Doctor liked her. Maybe this time, she had a job. She glanced outside and was surprised to see that it was already dark out. She frowned, not happy with the prospect of taking a taxi back to the subway. The city was sometimes dangerous at night, and it was best to commute when it was light out.

  “Oh!” said the Doctor. “I didn't notice that time had slipped by. I don't want you going home in the dark. May I drive you home?”

  Eve looked at him in surprise and relief. His kindness was endless, it seemed. “That would be... wonderful. Thank you.”

  The Doctor gave a small nod of ackowledgement and walked back through the workroom, Eve following. When they entered, Silas was examining one of Eve's creations, a small foxlike creature with gleaming screws for eyes. “Silas, I'm taking Eve home in the hovercraft,” the Doctor said, and Eve narrowed her eyes, watching Silas closely. What was it about him that Doc wanted her to notice?

  The two of them followed Doc into a small garage where a customized hovercraft waited. It was covered with scraps of metal nailed into place, gears here and there, a few rods of metal twisted into strange designs. Eve stared at it, interested, for a moment before climbing into the front seat beside Doc. Silas took the back. Then the Doctor brought the machine to life, and it raised itself off the ground as the rickety garage door creaked open.

  Eve felt awkward in the silence of the hovercraft, but she was content. It had been a good day – a marvelous one. 

Updates on "Half"

I've been working on the next few segments of Half. I have some updates on the story that you should know.

1) I originally wanted the novel to have a steampunk setting, but that kind of died gradually. I'm bringing it back. Expect a lot futuristic, mechanical stuff and odd terms. Sorry for the inconsistencies that will ensue from my lack of imagination and/or this sudden odd change.

2) I'm changing Silas' backstory a little. Instead of him leaving home quickly and buying a new apartment, we'll say he's been living with Doc, the character I'm about to introduce, for a little while. Doc is basically his foster father. We'll go more into that later. He still has his robo-arm and everything, which a) I need a proper name for (like bionic arm or me charm or something), and b) is definitely his left arm. I don't know if that was clear before.

3) Instead of Eve's clock malfunctioning, I'm changing it so that she was born with no clock at all. I think that would make more sense pertaining to how noticeable it is and how much ridicule she received in school. 

If I can think of anything else, I'll add it. 

Now, because this is pretty much a normal post, here's a quote from Matt Smith when he was driving a car on Top Gear : "Gently, gently, softly, softly, catchy monkey."

12-31-12: year old

I finished my first proper tablet drawing, so here it is.

It's John and Vriska from Homestuck. Whoo.

So today is the last day of the year. I don't know what to think about this. I'm looking forward to better things in 2013, I guess, but what if worse things happen instead?

I haven't posted anything about how Christmas was. I guess I'll do that.

I woke up and everyone opened presents. That was fun and all, yes, presents, woot. I got the aforementioned graphics tablet that I wanted, as well as a Ravenclaw scarf and a few other things. My great aunt surprised me with an American Girl Doll - Julie, to be specific. She said that her fondest Christmas memory involves me getting an American Girl. I didn't want it at first, and was quite bewildered by the gift, but I think I'll treasure it. Maybe I'll rename it.

After that, I spent a few hours doodling on my graphics tablet, and then we gathered up some family members and visited this restaurant with a huge buffet of Chinese food. It was incredibly delicious, and fun times were had. The dessert was amazing. 

So that was Christmas. I hope you had a nice Christmas.

Tomorrow is January 1st. I'm ready for it to come. Not ready for school to restart, either. :3

Now I leave you with a quote from Paper Towns, which is a book I recently read: "What a treacherous thing to believe, that a person is more than a person."

Half, pt. 5

  When Silas graduated, he left his home. He said goodbye to his parents and to his friends and to the city that he had always known. He was going to begin a new life for himself, now that school and unkind people and the prospect of stuffing his head with seemingly pointless knowledge no longer kept him tied down. It hurt to leave his loved ones. But he knew that leaving isn't right unless you leave behind something that really means something to you. 

   He moved to a different city, bought an apartment, and took a job in the paper asking for laboratory experience. He had always enjoyed science. Maybe he could make something out of it.

   Two days before her new job, Eve went out and got a haircut as her mother's words rang in her ears. Her heavy copper locks fell to the floor, exposing her long neck and elegant shoulders. Her hair was cut into a sleek bob that curled naturally and framed her face. When it was done, she looked in the mirror and gasped in delight. She was shedding the past image of herself. She was becoming a newer, better Eve.

   One day before her new job, Eve permanently stopped wearing the long fingerless gloves that covered her wrists. She bought herself new clothes, clothes that she liked and that didn't hide her anymore. All her life, she had tried to cover herself in every way possible, had tried her hardest to never be seen. She was done with the shame. She was ready to be herself.

    On the day of her new job, she put on her newest floral blouse, the airy sleeveless one, and quickly scanned herself in the mirror. She was different, and her different self fit her, she thought. 

    In the kitchen, she hugged her mom tightly and moved her mouth close to her ear. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."

    Her mother pulled away slightly and smiled at Eve, twirling a finger through her daughter's shorter hair. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. She was older than she had been, but her eyes remained kind and wise and full of light. "I'm so proud of you, darling," she said, squeezing her shoulders. "Now go out there and make a life for yourself."

    So Eve did. She left her childhood home with an air of finality. Even though she knew she was coming back, there was something about her departure that felt brighter.

12-27-12: tainted snow and miserable frenchmen

   Today is December 27. Christmas was nice. Yesterday we saw Les Mis, and it was wonderful, exactly what I expected it to be. Amanda Seyfried was a great Cosette, even though Ash and I doubted her abilities. I loved Eddie Redmayne as Marius! Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway were both amazing. It was all just so great, really, and I can't wait to see it again.  When we entered the theater, it was a typically cold, cloudy winter afternoon; but when we emerged, the sky was yellow as snow heavily fell. Jack Frost had paid us a visit, spreading a wintry coating across the silent earth and the willing citizens. In the theater parking lot, the snow was undisturbed, as yet untainted by the disgusting excretions of cars and engines and machines. It was beautiful and pure. It made me think of how nice things are until we ruin them. Sure enough, when I woke up the next morning, today, people had shoveled all the snow away into brown, slushy trenches at the sides of roads, clearing the way so that humanity could continue. Humanity doesn't like to be interrupted by things as bold and unwanted as a bit of snow.

   We - my dad and I - drove along on the highway as weird obscure music crackled from the radio. People flew along the road like it wasn't even snowing outside. Canadians are cool like that. We turned into the parking lot of a bookstore, and there were no cars on the pavement, just perfect snow. Everything was so gorgeous, and now I look back and realize that it was one of those moments. You know, the ones I talked about where something happens that's so special that you don't realize how much it will always mean to you until you look back on it?

    There's a ton of snow outside today. It's what the people back at home would go into bunker mode over.

     Now I leave you with a quote from Les Misérables: "To love another person is to see the face of God."

12-23-12 : christmas adam

   Tomorrow, I am leaving with my family to visit my aunt in Canada. There is no internet access where I am going, because my aunt is eighty-seven. I will not be able to watch the Doctor Who Christmas Special, because she does not have cable. All I ask is that I get to see Les Mis on Christmas.

   We go to my aunt's every Christmas. I can't imagine what it must be like to spend Christmas at home with friends instead of far away with family. What's it even like to get on the internet on Christmas Day? 0.0

    I feel kind of sad about Christmas this year, and I don't really know why. I watch the time pass with a sort of longing, sad to see it all slip by me. Like I'm trying to hang on to 2012 for no detectable reason. It wasn't even that great a year. It was just 2012.

    My brother's leaving next year. 

    I guess I'll have to . . . deal with that.

    We didn't decorate the tree this year. We put it up - the fake tree, I mean, the one that we've always had - and somehow in the last few days the compulsion to decorate it has left us. It is bare. The colorful lights that usually line the banisters of the stairs are absent this year, as are the snowmen figurines and outdoor lights. Why didn't we decorate this year? Why does everything feel so odd right now? I can't even believe that Christmas is the day after tomorrow. It crept right up. I've barely been anticipating it, and here it is.

    It doesn't feel like Christmas.

    Am I just getting older?

I can't wait to see my aunt, but there are a few family members who we're not seeing this year. We can't see everyone, which is a shame because everyone is in Canada. Sometimes I just want to live there.

Now I leave you with a quote: "If you don't imagine, nothing ever happens at all." - John Green, Paper Towns.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

    

It's the end of the world as we know it

And I feel fine.

OKAY SO THE LES MIS SOUNDTRACK WAS RELEASED TODAY AND OH MY GOSH IT IS BEAUTIFUL JUST I DREAMED A DREAM OH MY FEEEEEELINGS

I have been spending the last day of Earth reading Homestuck. It's frustrating. This one character keeps killing off all of my other favorite characters. I do not like how these things keep happening.

I keep telling myself I'm going to get up and do things, but then I just don't. I want to start on that 900-page edition of Les Misérables, and I want to draw all of these ideas that have been spawning in my mind all day, but I don't. It's Christmas vacation. 

Remember Looking for Alaska? All that deep stuff about trying to escape the labyrinth of suffering? I want to know how to escape the labyrinth of laziness.

Today I went in my room and sat down on my bed and did stuff on my computer, and then I looked up and noticed that on my dresser was a new piggy bank. It's a very cute ceramic pig with wings. I saw it yesterday at Pier 1 Imports and freaked out over it, but didn't buy it. My mom bought it secretly and snuck into my room to place it on the dresser. She is wonderful.

I'm going to leave now and possibly draw stuff.

"Oh, it is on like a prawn who yawns at dawn." - Andy, The Office