30 Second DNC Clip

In case you were wondering what it was like inside the DNC . . . nah . . . this doesn't come close to capturing the feeling, but it's the best I can do!!!

DNC!!! I Was There!!!

Can you believe it? I was there!!!! After a 3 and a half-hour wait and walking . . . running . . . walking . . . (in that order) six miles, I was at Invesco field and experiencing the Democratic National Convention in person!!! What an amazing event!

Me with 85,000 other people. The triumph of the night . . . WE GOT TO OUR SEATS! Just kidding!!! We did get to our seats . . . eventually . . . but the main event was obviously the speakers, and every one of them did an amazing job. I saw Al Gore and Barack Obama. I missed Biden (he came on while I was on a food run) - but I'm still looking for his speech on YouTube. I saw Stevie Wonder perform. What a night!!!

More will be forthcoming once I return from camping. For now . . . me! Fuzzy me . . . but me! With 85,000 other people. WOOT!!!! If you look really close at the Bronco you can see the two snipers (maybe security guards . . . but I'm guessing sniper) that stood to either side of the white horse.

Critical Mass

I haven't been blogging, so you may have guessed . . .

Ta DAA!!! Another You Tube video. (Some people eat when they're stressed. I splice film. It keeps me thin :P.)

What to say about Ayashi no Ceres? Imagine that you have a split personality. Imagine that both of your "selves" are in love with two different boys (who, surprisingly, don't like each other). And imagine that one side of you is blessed with celestial power, incredibly dangerous, and incredibly ticked off. Did I mention the reincarnation? There is a nice twist with the reincarnation. In all the great love stories, lovers reincarnate again and again . . . but what if it became more a curse than a blessing? (The astute will notice the video starts off with Ceres asking Aya - are you sure you're ready for love? And ends with Aya asking Ceres - are you sure your ready for love?)

FOOM!

Making this video helped me survive one of the most stressful weeks in my entire life. Work was stressful. Home was stressful. The weather was stressful (seriously - we had sever thunder and lightning storms for a week straight - and I was getting awful tired of waking up at 3:00 a.m. to a thunder concussion that shook the house).

I don't do well on sleep deprivation. Trust me. I do things like make videos about homicidal angels. Hope you enjoy!

Ayashi no Ceres Ready for Love

What Happens to the Memories?

What happens to the Friends
who have dwindled?
The faces that time made soft -
blurred into faded photographs?

I wonder who they are.
And where - maybe what
they are doing.

Within the dark places,
the recesses within where we all remain,
patient children. The me that was -
hums - alone in a corner. Her fingers,
draw across the floor, gathering shadows.

She wonders if they would recognize her.
The people who once were, but now
are not.

Are they still a friend, if they don't remember?
Or have they become strangers,
who nod politely, preoccupied.
Focused, as they cross the street.
The spark of recognition, like the light,
Changes.

But the face they expect to see,
the me they are looking for,
has gone.
A memory is a brittle thing,
fading into the pieces of things
as they are now.

Though I raise my hand,
though I wear a bright scarf. . .

They do not see me.

The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns

I despised The Kite Runner, so don't ask me why I let a friend talk me into reading the author's second book . . . A Thousand Splendid Suns. I must admit that I am writing this post before completely finishing the novel (I have roughly 20 pages left) - but it has left me in a reflective and somber mood.

Funny . . . that was my horoscope for the day. Reflective and somber.

I just don't see the hope in these books. I see fleeting glimpses of it . . . but it's hidden amongst so much tragedy and pain that you wonder if the light makes up for the darkness. Reading his novels is like opening the newspaper and reading about real life . . . the wars, the bombs, the kids who get legs amputated trying to cross over into America. And then they throw you a bone of hope, if only to keep you from throwing yourself off a building. It's not even a happy ending . . . it's something small, and cheap - and they try to play it up, as though it fixes everything. "Timmy lost both legs, but a kind business has agreed to pay for his artificial limbs if he signs a contract saying he will allow them to use both legs for trademark advertising." Insert a picture of the kid sitting in bed, looking sullen.

Where is the fighting spirit? Where are those kids who refuse to let the world hold them down? Who lose their legs and inspire others with their sunny disposition and refusal to let tragedy rule their lives?

I'm not arguing that the author of these books can't write. In fact, he has a beautiful sense of prose . . . I just feel that his stories pander more to the audience who find themselves moved by little Timmy, instead of the eight-year-old kid who had his leg amputated by a train (this is a true story, by the way) - tied his own tourniquet - and limped home to his mother to tell her she was right that he shouldn't have played by the tracks, and he was now more determined than ever to play sports.

The first story is tragedy, throwing you a bone of hope to soothe your soul, and make you feel that the world is not entirely covered in darkness. The second is a story built on tragedy, but the tragedy is a side note, the focus is on the child and his shining spirit.

Maybe its a moot distinction - but for me, it is clear. I guess that comes with the gift of seeing everything in shades of gray instead of black and white. Sometimes, I see more than I want to.
Meh. I shouldn't blog when I'm somber and reflective. Reflectively somber. Somberly reflective?

Then again, as one of my other friends said:
Her: "Why are you reading that?"
Me: "A friend asked me to."
Her: "Did she read The Kite Runner?"
Me: "Yep."
Her: "Did she like The Kite Runner?"
Me: "Yep."
Her: "And you LISTENED to her?"

She has a point. She does, indeedy, have a point.

Motivation

I've finally decided a need a novelling intervention . . . not to keep me from my habit - but to force me to sit down and finish the darn thing! I just spent six months procrastinating and NOT writing a scene where a man had to fall off a horse. That's it. A simple tumble from a running equine. I know the characters. I know the events. I just never seem to get the time to sit down and . . . and . . . write!!!

So we examine the motivation factor.

First, I think I'm going to select someone to read my novel. I think I need someone to bounce ideas off of . . . someone who can bug me about plot-lines and tell me which character they want to know more about. (A note to all of the little voices in my head . . . none of you qualify for this job . . . so stop volunteering.)

And secondly, I may start posting a paragraph here and there again, just to keep tabs on my progress.

------------------------------

The Lord Nicat gave a long suffering sigh, rolling his eyes at Lord Favre. “I told you take Brandywine,” he chided.

“And attract no attention?” Lord Favre replied acidly.

“And attract less than will be attracted, when the gray unseats you,” corrected Lord Nicat. “You continually fail to grasp that the kind of attention is as important as the amount.”

The Ladies Arisa and Brianna laughed, while Lady Danyieve looked thoughtful.

“I will vouch for that advice,” Gwen said. “I’ve done nothing since I got here aside from attract the wrong kind of attention.”

“You have caused quite the stir,” the Lady Brianna confirmed. “Especially after the row with Master Lefyre. I should be most interested in hearing the details of that particular affair.”

“And I am sure the Lady Genevive would be most interested in not having to relate such an embarrassing tale,” said Lady Arisa, her black eyes sparkling.

Gwen laughed. “I made my own bed,” she said easily. “So I have some obligation to answer if people ask about the wrinkles.”

My On-going Involuntary Relationship

Spiders. They love me. The follow me. They build their webs in my car and plague my house. But this week, one of them crossed the line . . . he was in my TOASTER OVEN!!! No, he didn't survive the experience . . . . actually, I'm not quite sure how long he was there, poor little critter, crispied among the other blackened toast crumbs. He was definitely there long enough to be deep fried. And toasted spiders are probably a delicacy somewhere in the world.

At least he wasn't explodey . . . but I repeat, in my TOASTER OVEN!!!

I think the worst part was that A. noticed him while we were cooking toast . . . which meant the toaster was too hot to clean . . . so I had to let fried spidey cool while I went to work . . . . blergh.

On a similarly humorous side, I managed to slice my thumb on a staple at work - trust me, it was an impressive job on a standard-sized staple. T., A., and I have been watching a Japanese animation called Naruto (EXCELLENT - highly recommended), in which the main characters are ninja and sometimes summon other critters by biting their thumb to draw blood and then slamming their hand onto a surface and yelling "Summoning Jutsu!" Needless to say, I tried. (Okay. . . not really - they frown on getting blood on your paperwork.)

I did call T. at work and tell him. He laughed and told me that with my luck, I'd summon an eight foot spider, and be forced to run around the office screaming.

He's right you know.

Stupid spiders.