Haphazardly Implausible || Book Review

Well before I wish you all a happy future, I believe it to be time to (DUN DUN DUN) cue the lights and cut the curtain for a book review.

*enter picture here*

Haphazardly Implausible, people. Good book, great author (wait-a go Jack!!). And before reading anymore, you must bounce over to her blog and tell her how fantastic she is. NOW. 

Really, you should know that I'm no knowledgeable whiz kid when it come to books or literature. Especially not books about airships and Europe. I seriously fail when it comes to history/geography, and I've never chomped down on anything steam punk before. Needless to say, this book was a new genre for little ol' me. 

* * *

The book begins with Scottish people in a Scottish place. This is rather lovely, as it gives me freedom to think of these characters with some sweet accents. From their it jumps between multiple peoples and places, all on their own conquests to find what they're looking for. 

Peter, Tony, Steed, Darcy, Kirk, Isidore, Jack, Singur, and the others. All lovely people with complex backgrounds and personalities to match. My favorite(s) had to be Darcy, with Peter close behind. Kirk and I became fast friends, I could almost empathize with Isidore and his struggles with Jack O'Malley, Steed and Tony were both gems, and Singur...well Singur left me wanting a bit more out of him, but I have faith that in the coming books he'll blossom into a very well-rounded fellow of fiction. 

After reading Haphazardly Implausible I'm very interested in reading Jack's collection of short stories: Kirk, Lisbeth's Choice, and Reveille, and so when I get a chance, I'll be getting my hands on those. 

I won't say much concerning the story, for fear that I will slip a few spoilers. 

---Ah! That's another shining moment of this book: the mystery. Seems like everyone has a secret---or if not secret, a past that's not to be spoken about. These little eye-catches feed you brain and keep you interested. When reading, I typically try to solve and resolve the plot twisters before the characters do. With HI, I was totally clueless (though I nearly caught Hogan's revelation before it had been...revelated), which is a pleasing thing. 

There are handfuls of pros, plot being the most prominent.

The cons are few, and I can only think of two:

1) A slight unbelievability. I know---I know, it's steam punk, it's fictional, etc. BUT when Singur decides to take a swim with a bag of explosives, it occurred to me that no matter how much of a genius he might be, this dude has no hope of not sinking to his drowning doom (especially as only a few minutes ago, he was about to pass out). 

2) There were scatters of little typos. I am no person to be in the position of accusing someone of typos (yes, we call all laugh hysterically and roll our eyes at this). And however many times you read a manuscript, you are never going to find each and every little error. Thus, (no worries Jack) we shan't shoot the author. 

Aside from these two points of the story, I really couldn't find anything else to turn my nose up at (yes, I know I'm picky ;). 

A lovely book with lots of potential. *cough*movie adaption*cough*

So read it, enjoy it, and be excited for the sequel(s)!

* * *

And now I can wish you a successful future by saying "Happy New Year!"

K-Minty

*sigh* Yes. More Poems.

Because blogger is a bit of a pain, I'm very close to running out of storage space for any pictures on my blog. There. That explains the lack of photographs over the past posts. 

However, I thought it would be nice to combine some of my photography with three of my newest poems (yes, written for dear bloggy-friend Lauricia ;). My solution was to create a YouTube video out of them. 

So here 'zey are. 

Song: No One tells Me Anything || Windsor Airlift

0:00 - "Broken Trust"

1:29 - "Eyes of Ages"

2:59 - "Words Align"

Alas, the first one is really quite sad. :(

The second is a bit foreboding, but I mean it to have a pleasant conclusion. :)

And the last...well the last is me sympathizing with all my fellow writers. ;)

Despite the sadness of it, I really must say that I favor most the first one. It's a sort of apology. But it doesn't end there where the lines stop. Instead, the reader (that's you) gets to imagine that the speaker is forgiven. In the end, wrongs do come to right, and the sun shines out all the brighter. 

That's the thing when it comes to story telling. The story doesn't end. It just sort of continues behind the scenes. And that is why we can believe that every tale---great or small---does have a happy ending...eventually.

'Tis all.

God bless,

(a book review may or may not be coming soon)

K-Minty

Lonely Stand

Due to *cough*popular demand*cough* I give you yet another poem devised by me, myself, and I. 

I decided to feature this ten-liner in a new story idea (that I doubt will ever see the light of day), so I may as well give it to you now. 

In foggy window dawn has reached 

Past oceantide the sun has breached 

Through stormy rain of silver showers 

Near twilight trees and golden flowers 

The cottage slept in nighttime sigh 

With drowsy snore and sleepy eye 

We watched as flames leapt in firey daze 

And caught yonder forest in fearful blaze 

'Till scream awoke the world at hand 

And fell to silent lonely stand

The end for now, my friends.

Reindeer Nightcap

A Christmas special from the gang at Humphreys Peak.

* * *

Rory and Amelia Fysh sat on the blue, navy, and white plaid-stripe love seat, surrounded by mounds of fluffy red and green tissue paper and scattered, sparkling Christmas tree tinsel. Perched nearest the fireplace, Robert Thorpp was bundled in fleece and flannel nosily sipped at a mug of hot coffee, while his best friend, Lue Malkovitch leaned back against the brick and mortar of the mantel, garbed in his signature black trench coat and with his eyelids half closed in luxurious ease and relaxation. In the armchair, stately but comfortable, was Dr. DiLona---rather, "Peter"---who watched all in the room through his little round glasses with bright eyes and warm, content smile. And finally, at the foot of the grand Christmas tree, flanked by the remains of the torn package wrapping (which had been composed mostly of newspaper and brown lunch sacks), was Brent Dobkin, sitting cross-legged and still taking inventory over his new drawing pencils. 
They were laughing, talking, arguing, explaining, and generally spreading the joyous Christmas cheer as follows the ideal picture of "peace on earth and good will to men". 
"Hey Peter!" Quipped Robert Thorpp above the general chorus of chatter. DiLona gave him a questioning smile, his eyebrows raised.
"What's that Hobbes?" Hobbes played a sly smile and the firelight twinkled in his eyes.
"So...eh...when am I gonna see you wear your new reindeer cap? I mean, seeing as it really brings out the color in your eyes and all." Peter chuckled and pulled out his newest item Christmas clothing attire, courtesy of Hobbes. It was a nightcap interpreting a sleepy reindeer with rolling ping-pong-ball eyes, a lolling tongue, and droopy antlers that dangled past Peter's shoulders when placed on his head. 
"You know, I was thinking it would go well with my lab coat." Dryly stated the proud owner of the reindeer cap. Hobbes and the rest started to crack up as the watched the doctor bobbed his head, causing the nightcap's eyeballs to bobble up and down.
"You know sir," Began Rory with a mock air of seriousness. "Not only does it bring out the color in your eyes, but it also complements your features and skin tone quite nicely."
"I say, Hobbes, where on earth did you find such an ugly thing in the first place?" Asked Amy, reaching to pull some of the tinsel out of her husband's hair. Hobbes took another draught of his coffee, and after setting it down, he replied. 
"As it so happens, I didn't find it, I made it. With a little help, of course." He caught Brent's eye and they exchanged smirks. Peter looked at his half brother with conviction. 
"Oh, so I have you to blame for this too?" He accused. Brent smiled a bit awkwardly, and retorted.
"Not blame. Thank. Besides, it was Malkovitch's idea to begin with." He pointed at Lue, who was grinning, despite the fact that he was studying the back of his eyelids. 
"A real team effort, eh?" Asked Peter. 
"Sure was." Confirmed Lue, confident and cool as ever. 
"All right, enough with the doctor's precious cap, we're all jealous of it, and that's that." Said Amy.
"Yeah, real jealous." Mumbled Brent.
"---And now," Continued Mrs. Fysh. "I have one last present to give to you, dearest." After hopping to her feet and kissing Rory on the top of his head (where tinsel still hung from), she retrieved one last gift from the antique bookshelf and plopped it into Mr. Fysh's lap. 
"Well c'mon then, let's see what is is!" Urged Hobbes. Brent stopped fingering his new artist supplies and even Lue cracked open his eyes to see what this final remaining parcel might be. All attention was turned to Rory, and the room grew quiet as his finger gentle tugged and tore at the wrapping. When at last opened and fully reveled, the receiver beamed. 
"A Bible!" Exclaimed he, in awe of the elegant leather work that bound the golden-edged pages together. It was indeed a Bible: a fine example of God's Word, complete and with the name "Fysh" embossed on the front of it. 
Rory smiled, swelling with pride. 
"Ah! It's beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!" 
"Mm, I figured you might need a new one after the dogs---eh---decided that book binding was a delicacy to be feasted on." Explained Amy, glowing with gladness over the fact that her gift had been so well received. 
"May I?" Asked Peter, gesturing to the Holy book. Rory placed it in his hands. 
"Why," Peter DiLona breathed, "It is indeed beautiful." He flipped through the delicate pages. "Such a masterpiece---a work of art in literature, and in Truth. There is, to be sure, no better book to be found in all the world." 
Hobbes watched as the Bible was reverently handed back to Rory. He had an idea.
"Say, Rory, read us something will you?" Rory nodded, and without further ado, opened to Luke Chapter 2 of the New Testament.

"In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register. 

 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. 

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah,the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” 

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 

"Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests."

Christmastime

It came upon a shooting star
So far away in height of dark
Through moonshine night and shady eve
In blackest sky above the earth

A hope anew: a brilliant light
To cleanse the world of sinful strife
And leave it's mark for us to bear
A silver love for all to share

We sang the carols of glistening yule
And danced 'neath gleaming boughs of green
Brought to the hearth with hearts of gold
Where story of joy was fourth foretold

The Savior, great and beautiful he
Born to us in humble state
In manger lay in peaceful sleep
While blessed night of Christ grows late

I saw it all through eyes of past
I saw the smile, the glimmer-eye
The wintry glow of snow to last
Through the heavenly window of the skies 

And when I woke I woke from word
I knew a voice I thought I heard
His gentle whisper, in my ear:
"Awake, for Christmastime is here."

With love,

Kismint Plinkadink

[Christmas] Music Monday: #4

A double whammy for all you folks, since today is Christmas Eve.
Also because I feel like it.
Thirdly, because these are the same song, but with different lyric.
And last, because these are my favorites, therefore they deserve to be played the day before Jesus' B-day.

Merry Christmas!

AND SO IT BEGINS:

The End of the World.

In Which I Write Only Boringness

I feel like writing something. Watching words march left to right in their straight, neat, and uptight columns has a soothing effect. Non of my aspired book-plots are a whole, and thus, they are nothing but strands of ideas, hopeless to being woven into an actual story. I could edit and revise "Upper Class", but I'd rather let that tale in particular sit in the dusty dark and ferment in the data banks of this laptop for the time being. A few days ago, I though I was on to something good as far as "plot" goes. But not anymore. 

Nothing. Is. Coming. 

I've been drawing a lot. And playing lots of music. I like winter break. I like doing nothing as much as possible. You've no idea how blessedly wonderful it is to wake up in late morning and sigh, realizing you have no obligations. At all. Just a few hours to finally do all the creating and inspiration-seeking you've ever had urge to do. 

I feel like this past week has been my drain. I'm settling into my easy-going mood, and enjoying every single breath of it that I'm breathing in. 

More and more, it becomes an obvious fact that I continually bounce my "favorites" to and fro between four things. 

I like to write. I like to draw. I like music---a lot. And I like to take pictures. 

It's always one of these things, and continually a struggle to decide if I like one more than the other. 

I don't know why I'm boring you with this. It's all just a few musings from I, as I try to type myself to sleep. 

Goodnight.

Coeur Volant Lyrics

French:

Animer, à la vie, les songes, les couleurs,

voir la lune, les étoiles, tout se retrouve à nouveau.

Serpentant les ruelles,

dans l’oubli, dans la peur,

petit génie aux doigts de fée,

fixant les heures,

ouvrant ses ailes,

un cœur qui pleurait, qui s'envole

l'amour a soigné ce qu'il manquait.

Elle était inconnue, curieuse et puis amie

un clin d'œil en offrande

petite sirène aux yeux de nuit

sa clé a porté le rêve vivant

un secret qu’ils partagent à présent.

Il était magicien d'images de poèmes

dompteur de rêves,

caché dans l'ombre,

seul avec son jeu brisé,

son cœur cassé

les choses en morceaux se réparent a nouveau.

Rêve …

N’oublie pas les rêves!

Rêve …

English (a bit, rough, yes?):

Open to life’s dream and colors,

Watch the moon and the stars.

All that is lost can be found again.

Winding in shadows,

Fearful and forgotten,

A little genie with nimble fingers

Fixing the hours.

Wings opening,

His broken heart takes flight.

Love heals everything.

She was a stranger, a helper, now friend.

A little mermaid with eyes of the night,

Her key brought the dream to life.

His secret now shared.

He was a magician of pictures and poems.

A dreamer of dreams,

Hiding in shadows,

Alone with his broken playful things.

Then his broken heart flies.

Things in pieces can mend.

Dream…

Remember to dream…

Dream…

copyright:

“Coeur Volant” (Performed by Zaz)

Music and lyrics by Elizabeth Cotnoir, Isabelle Geffroy, Howard Shore

[Christmas] Music Monday: #3

Why not?

Recap

While watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire:

*Hopes this one is as good as The Prisoner of Azakban* 

*Is strangely reminded of a Calvin and Hobbes comic while witnessing Harry's dream* 

*Happens to be somewhat horrified of Ron's haircut* 

*Notices that guy actually looks a lot like David Tennant* 

*Ooh, blue fire* 

*Wait, remind me again: why is everyone so surprised that Harry is one of the champions?* 

*Has just come to the realization that fake eyes are actually very distracting* 

*Creepy how Tennant has such a look-alike* 

*Concludes journalist lady is creepy. But her floating pen and parchment are pretty cool.* 

*Wonders how Harry's glasses stay on while he's flying* 

*Seriously, that guy really does look like the tenth doctor* 

*Watches movie...watches movie...watches movie...* 

*Movie includes maze. Maze reminds me of BBC's Merlin* 

*Movie unfolds: Voldemort is disturbing* 

*Thinks either Harry of Voldemort should simply end the series now, rather than wait for four more consecutive movies to come out* 

*Could it possibly be Tennant?...Naw...* 

*Decides to wait until credits to find out*

*AHHHGHGG! The movie ended without credits! What on earth are you doing Megashare?!*  

*Movie ends* 

*Goes directly to Wikipedia* 

*Is it?...is it?...IS IT?????*

*DAVID TENNANT PLAYS BARTY CROUCH JR. TEN POINTS FOR K-MINTY FOR RECOGNIZING HIM!*

This is how it goes every time I watch a movie and think I recognize an actor from another movie/show/place in time. I'm very proud of myself.

Any movies that you've been watching lately? Any in particular that are Christmas traditions? I hope you all are enjoying this lovely month of Decemberness!

God bless,
K-Minty

Col. 2:6-10

⁶ So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, ⁷ rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.

⁸ See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces^[a] of this world rather than on Christ.

⁹ For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, ¹⁰ and in Christ you have been brought to fullness. He is the head over every power and authority.

A List of Ten

1. The Hobbit came out today. No, I didn't go to the midnight showing. Yes, I will be seeing it soon(ish).

2. Haphazardly Implausible, by Jack Lewis Baillot came out today. You should buy it. And read it. I'm getting a (signed!) copy of it. And I am excited about that.

3. Christmas is in 11 days, just in case you haven't noticed. Which is kind of a crazy thing, seeing as I have not decorated our house, bought presents, or worn my weird little fuzzy-sock things.

4. I need to take a math test today. But it's okay because algebra 2 is making sense.

5. A dilemma has presented itself to me: Do you like my new favorite French song that's on auto play on this page, or would you rather me change it to something more traditional? This is obviously a very important matter and requires much consideration.

6. Oh! Almost forgot: I watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's (err---Philosopher's) Stone last night. Which seems really really wrong ('cause of The Hobbit), but it was still a sweet movie. For your information, I watch my movies before reading the books (yes, I see that knife in your hand, but I'll explain some other time).

7. The night before last I dreamed that there were alien-zombies-who-could-shape-shift-into-humans invading Phoenix as the beginning of the end of the word and I had to fend them off with whatever weapons I could find (including sharpened pencils). After a while, I finally found my sword (a movie replica of "Sting", which---in waking life---I happen to keep stored in my bed) and was able to throw a bit of swordplay in. It seriously rocked.

8. Listening to Owl City's "How Deep the Father's Love for Us" cover. I feel like I haven't listened to Owl City in a while. Probably because I haven't. However, it's all I listened to during NaNoWriMo.

9. (speaking of) Last night I wanted to write another book. Anyone have a plot idea?

10. I'm about to take a big breath an happily dwell on the fact that I have a co-op free four weeks. Joy to the world.

Pretension

Once upon a time, I stood on a cliff. I didn't look down. I looked up. And there were clouds. I wanted so badly to touch them, up there, were they flew without fears or cares.

And then I woke up. I was in my hobbit hole, snuggled in the thick fluffy bed sheets that shrouded me from the rest of the world. Sometimes waking up to a rainy day feels like a story book. And story books always end with "and they lived happily ever after". 

[Christmas] Music Monday Wednesday: #2

Enter either drum rolls or trumpet calls

I have returned from a longish weekend of adventure, debating, and people wearing bathrobes that feel like dishtowels, smell funny, and have zebra print. And now it is time to post.
Today is especially drum-rollable (or trumpet-worthy), as I am writing my first, and hopefully not final, entry for Jack Lewis Balliot's give away. Learn the rules and how to get an entry in order to win a free, signed copy of her new book, Haphazardly Implausible (coming out December 14, 2012) HERE.

...*taps fingers and looks at clock nervously while figeting*

I guess I should write about a book that I've recently. Only problem is that I haven't exactly finished any fresh reading material lately. School work tends to suck the time of your life right outta you.

*begins to reconsider something*

And yet...school work does bring it's nice surprises (as far as literature goes), every once in the wild blue while.
And yes, I purposely mixed my puns.

Therefore, seeing as I have pray little newly-published novel, novella, or series to harp upon, I will begin with something of a classic. GK Chesterton's short story concerning Father Brown: The Hammer of God. 

(As a quick side note, you can read the full story, The Hammer of God, for free on this web page)

* * *

To be honest, I stink at reviews. It's not that I don't have an opinion (Nooooo, not that at all). Instead, it's that I rant or rave. There's no in-between space. That is my struggle. 

The Hammer of God.What a curious name. One might wonder what on earth this book is delving into. Chesterton was known for his Father Brown mysteries, but when a mystery starts with a title that includes something bigger and better and beyond our own little minds and ideas (such as God), we start to wonder: how on earth is this supposed to make sense?  One of the crucial aspects that you must include if attempting to write a successful mystery is that each event that happens needs to be believable (to an extent), and not simply depend on chance or a miracle. 

And although one could argue that miracles happen every day, all around up, 24/7, that's a whole new can of worms that will be left to open another day.

As far as background information goes, Father Brown is a Catholic priest. Depicted as short and non-noticeable, this generally overlooked priest is not only a devout believer and leader of the church, but a Sherlock in disguise. 

The Hammer of God begins with the typical introduction to the characters of whom the story concerns itself with. Chesterton's collection of Father Brown short stories are...well, short stories, thus, most characters are not expected to make appearances in multiple adventures. Unlike Sherlock Holmes, Father Brown has no Watson, and his tale is told in third person rather than first person narrative. This allows for Father Brown's first appearance to maintain a more "incognito" feeling. His presence is not announced, instead Chesterton only makes a quick note about a "...little priest [who] was not an interesting man to look at, having stubbly brown hair and a round and stolid face."

The story takes place completely on church grounds. I loved the way this made it simple and aided in unfolding the tale, piece by piece, until all was clear and in place. It seems to me that not only does a limited location keep a short story simple and easy to keep up with, but keeps everything uncluttered and allows Chesterton to add a flourish on his character development, without confusing or losing the reader. 

In a way, this short reminded me of that board game "Clue". Quite entertaining to the very conclusion.

Though the storyline was good and captivating, I must confess to you that the most shining element of plot was the to-be-greatly-admired Father Brown himself. Though I'm quite new and unlearned so far as Chesterton stories are concerned, I've already grown extremely fond of the detective-priest, and I'm quite sure you would too. His easy-going nature, calm composure, and witty quotations are outstanding. I really cannot recall the last time that I read a story with so many thought-provoking remarks. I shan't share them with you in this post, as it would take me far too long to find and decide on the best, and also because I believe that quotes are more of an impact when reading them straight from their origination, yet I do urge you read them for yourself in the link above.

The beginning was enticing, the middle was compelling, and the falling out, satisfying. As far as I can tell, this is most definitely a short story worth reading. In addition to all of the obvious elements that cause this tale to run smooth and flawlessly, their are a handful of discrete foreshadowing techniques (the stained glass painting of the angel with the lilies) that make it an excellent read. 

As far as cons go, I can't find many. I do regret to say that Chesterton has such a flourish with words, that it can become overwhelming at some times, and a struggle to follow the train of the story at others. Taking this into account, it is probably not best to read Chesterton's collection at 11:00pm on a night before an early morning. However that may be, I'd still say that these works of literature (particularly The Hammer of God) are certainly works of art, and quite commendable ones at that. 

* * *

That is my entry Jack, I hope you enjoyed it! =)

On another note, I just realized that I've forgotten to do a Christmas Music Monday. Drat. 

*bounds off to find a good Christmas song to post*

K-Minty

"You Melted My Heart", a Salad Bug

I'm a wreckless wave in the bottom of the sea, surging upward at a breakneck pace. I glide with silence and deliver with a pretty deadly slap shot. But accuracy's not my game, and I'm not one to understand the way things work. I hear a lot, see little, and comprehend only what you dismiss.

I'm the lighting before it strikes. My aim is there, but my talent is gone. My debut over, my credits erased. I'm just a flash on the stage---nothing more and none the less. The applause after my act is only thunder: an empty wave of energy pushing past you to get to an undefined destination.

I'm the accident you never thought would happen. The fear you were never afraid of. The drop of rain you couldn't feel. The whisper you strained to hear, but failed to receive. The love you never knew existed. I run a marathon as long as you breath.

You're the tide that washed up over me, while I was lost on the beach. The water was silver, with gold and blue, and rippled when I touched it. The longer I gazed the more like glass it appeared. I could see so much in the mirror. Things that I'd only dreamt came to life there. I remember that very same tint of green that the grass took on in the high summer. I recall the way you smiled like the sun after a snow day. You melted my heart.

You're the one who waves shyly but fails at words. The poets may call you "the winds in my sails" but I call you the wind in my face. I'll dance with that hurricane until I'm too dizzy to see the world upright, and I'll enjoy the way my hair will get tangled to the extreme.

You're the pilgrim, I'm the companion. Telling you stories on the way, and fending off the dragons while you sleep. You and I are on a road together now, and there is no way of telling when the path will fork. For now it's a little rocky, but I know we'll have some mountains to climb before we find the forest glade that both of our hearts are set on.

But someday: We'll both find what we're looking for. Even if we don't know what it is yet.

 I...I pro---promise.

Sudden Comprehension

That awkward awesome moment when you realize that BBC's The Adventures of Merlin is actually a spin-off of the Bible story of David and Jonathan from 1 Samuel.

Life is cool.

[Christmas] Music Monday: #1

9 For You: A Blogger

It's very hard to write something for an audience while you are confused with what your intentions are.
Take right now as an example. Should I write one of my infamous 'Salad Bugs', and just let you pick my brain for the remainder of this post? Shall I talk about the whether, seasons, end of November, or other cliched subject that humans seems to take comfort and abide in? What if I just rambled on about my homework and the completion of NaNoWriMo until your ears bleed?...Oh wait, I've already done that.

And by this point, you're about to punch your screen and shout: "JUST PICK A TOPIC TO WRITE ABOUT ALREADY!"

---Well first of all, that hurts my feelings. And secondly, I'm already suffering enough, what with being allowed to stay in my PJs all day, enjoying a clean and organized room, the cool, pleasant sounds outside that mainly consist of the neighbor's AC streaming gently through my open window, and a weekend of Christmas decorating up ahead. Can't you see that my life is just terrible already?!

(and by the way, if you aren't getting my sarcasm, you really will be hurting my feelings)

But by now, I've created my own conflict. Should I conclude my streamline of type and text? Or will that not be enough?? Have I gone down too many rabbit trails, or have I gone down too few? Are you smiling, crying, or rolling your eyes?
After all, it's your afterthought that counts. Your final reaction to my work is what I strive for.

SO BE NERVOUS---BECAUSE MY TEMPORARY HAPPINESS RESTS ON YOU!!

Finally, what about pictures? Videos?...Or even *gasp* should I insert emoticons that can be coined from parentheses and semi-colons?? If so, which ones? Often people favor one over the other, and I certainly wouldn't want to offend my vast variety of readers.

These are the conscience and subconscious worries of the average blogger.
And these are totally rationalizations and wastes of time.

...Which of course, makes it perfectly clear as to why I often find these thoughts plaguing my mind while writing to you. I am, after all, a very rationalizing person. I compare. A lot.

Truth be told, you're probably better off (and wiser) were you to never take advice from me. Especially not blog-writing advice. But as a reader of the web, I'd tell you that writing informally [to the extreme] for a number of people shouldn't be fretted about.
Given, you shouldn't prattle on about how you have nothing to write, (*guilty tenfold*) but don't stress about how boring your life is. Here are nine ideas if you are an avid blogger, but have run brain-dead out of ideas

1) Micro-Focus. Think of something. Anything. Any little detail of your life that comes to mind from over the recent days, hours, or minutes, and then exaggerate. Tell the world exactly how awful, wonderful, virtuous, or sinister that thing, event, or experience happened to be---or better yet, make a short story out of it.

2) Pull a Kismint, and do a Salad Bug. Yay! Definition of Salad Bug: The most eccentric, swirly-twirly paragraph(s) of words you can come up with it, making a scenario out of them. Use lots of adjectives, and make the idea and story behind it as vague as possible. It's kind of like spacing out while writing while your fingers keep clicking over the keyboard.

3) Write a poem! Even if you aren't a poet, you're still a blog writer, and it might be good to stretch those creative cells in your head. In order to make your poem "worthy of web site", make sure that you're listening to poignant music while you pen down your verses.

4) Find a picture, and write a story that goes behind it. This one is simple enough, and easy too. Just find an image that gives you a spark of inspiration, and run with it. It doesn't have to be a made-up story, it could just be something that's happened in your own experiences.

5) Write about yourself in third person. If you want something to use for as a daily blog post, yet have run out of ideas, try journaling each day of your life for an entire week, but speak only in third person.

6) Photolog! This is for the peoples with the cameras. After waking up, snap a shot of everything that you do for an entire day. Before you go to bed, upload and share your day.

7) Share ten wacky aspirations. Come on, everyone has something unexpected on their bucket list. Make your readers laugh at a few of the crazy things you're just dying to do.

8) Write about a dream you had. That is, if you're one of those people who remembers their dreams after they wake up. Because dreams are made up of shifting words, pictures and images in our minds, you'll find that it can be pretty challenging to try to re-account everything that you saw while sleeping in a words-only mode.

9) Try the music tag, or another tag of your choice. Or better yet, create your own tag to send out to everyone else!

Good night,
K-Minty

Gahkk!

My math lesson is entitled: "Masquerading as a Second Degree". Great. Guess what song gets stuck in my head.



*headdesk*

Don't we just love math time?

I am a...no wait, THE tortoise

Finished my NaNoWriMo this morning at 12:00 AM.

Oddly enough, this year's story became a short prequel to the real plot that I had originally planned to write about. A little less than halfway in, I realized that the idea was too large to fit into on month's worth of 30,000 words (yeah, not a full 50,000---you think I'm insane or somethin'?).

And so a started a Novella.
And then I finished a Novella.
And then I rejoiced.

I must say, I didn't expect to actually accomplish what I'd set out to do. But being encouraged by friends and the YWP's pep talks helps. One of the most inspiring pep talks that I read mentioned something about writing for the people who doubt you, rather than the people who believe in themselves. As a self-proclaimed skeptic, I grasp this concept with open arms. I wrote to prove something. Not to the people who knew already that I had it in me. Instead, I wrote to prove something to MYSELF. My doubtful, pessimistic self.

So there. Take that, self! 

And now, dear reader, is the part of the post when I encourage you. If you're trying to accomplish something, I tell you now: Do it. But do it to show all those doubting people who's boss here!

And rest assured, when you've finally earned the right to grasp your trophy, it feels good.
Really really good.

Thanks to my lovely characters---some of which have yet to appear---for their patience and faithful bickering that kept the story on the road. And to my fellow NaNo-ers: without them, it would have been impossible to write that 30,642.

Finally, I give to you all, the last words of the (more than rough) rough draft.

"'And now it begins.' Whispered Robert Augustus Thorpp, unsure of the future, and accelerating towards it at full speed."

THE END

You have no idea how badly I've wanted to write those two concluding words.  

Bowmaster

I'm sorry, but this is great. 

(veiwers should be warned that this does have a fair share of graphic battle scene violence)

i

More later,

K-Minty

To The One With Reading Eyes,

I never walk beside you, nor in front, nor behind. I walk in a parallel line with your shadow. You don't see me, and you usually don't listen to me, but you hear me every day and don't know it. Sometimes I'm that nagging voice in your head. Other times I'm just the wind tickling the blades of grass in the meadow and making funny whistling noises. I have lots of things to tell you. But you like to rush. You like to go about your day without heeding, without worrying, and without wondering what I might be able to do to help you out with. The only time you're ever ready to sit down and have a chat is when your eyes shut and your brain switches from "awake" to "hibernation". 

It's sad really---the way that you always seem to forget what I told you when we talked together. And the more you try to remember, the quicker my words dissolve from your memory. Everything I tried to give you fades away when you awake. Like sand stirred up by the bluster of a passing car, my gifts to you are left behind. 

With blessing,

I n s p i r a t i o n .

"On Your Knees!"

"Your time starts now!" Shouted Prince Arthur's voice, sounding grim and deadly in the pavilion. It was now or never again. This was Lancelot's chance: The chance to become the thing he'd dreamed of. Knighthood was in his reach. 

All his life, since he was only an orphan child, had he practiced his sword craft. The tricks and turns he had mastered came flooding back to him, and his hands and fingers remembered their skill. Arthur was the best swordsman in Camelot---perhaps even in the world. The prince's skill had been carefully fostered since he could walk. Now, in his prime, Arthur was most undoubtedly the deadliest human foe he would ever face in combat.

Lancelot must prove himself worthy. Not only to the once and future king of Camelot, or even his friends who stood nervously on the sidelines, watching with anxious eyes, but to himself---that he could do what he'd always aspired to. 

From inside his helmet, Lancelot could hear every sword stroke as the two weapons of metal met in the air. The sounds reminded one of music from a warning bell, ringing "danger" and "injury" at every toll. Lancelot did his best to hold his ground and keep his head, even under the rain of Arthur's blows. In combat, the two of them were like animals, feeling for each other's weaknesses, never giving in, never holding up, and never backing down. In a brief wave overwhelming disorientation, Lancelot lost his balance, and swung wildly at Arthur's head. He thought it to be his doom, but fate laughed and Arthur held back. The two circled. 

And they continued.
Lancelot didn't know for how long. 
Have you ever noticed how impossible to tell time when pouring out everything you are or ever hope to be?

In reality, it was only a few seconds before his downfall. With a backhanded blow from his right gauntlet, Arthur had struck Lancelot directly in the face. Onto the ground he went as his helmet flew off and his mind darkened... 

...But the thing you most desire, if in your grasp, will not---should not---be given up on without a fight.

Cooper and Gatlin- "Don't Panic" (Coldplay LIVE cover)

Talented people. Besides, how can you not like Coldplay??

For any fellow AIO listeners who might be curious and recognize the name, the girl in this video is the actress Gatlin Green---A.K.A. Priscilla---singing with her brother, Cooper Green (also an actor).

Non-Themed Theme Song

Listening to this right now.

Chorus: 

You go there you're gone forever
I go there I'll lose my way
If we stay here we're not together
Anywhere Is 

For some reason, the chorus of this song was kind of the original "Theme Song" of this year's NaNoWriMo novel. Just the chorus though. I like Enya, but to be honest, the tempo of this song's verses get a little irritating (though the lyrics are pretty awesome on their own).
Now, after actually sitting down and writing the Novel this month, this song reflect approximately zero of the feeling or mood shone in any scene or character. Nevertheless, I'm stuck with it being linked forever as a picture of the basic outline of The Upper Class.

---Not sure if I like this or not.

In more NaNo news (I know, you're sick of it, right?)...LOOKIT WHAT I MADE!

Okay, if this isn't creepy, I don't know what is. It's literally a collaboration of people who are, star in, related to, or otherwise associated with

-Merlin
-Benedict Cumberbatch (that how you spell his last name?)
-Dr. Who (in an extremely roundabout way)
-Zombie Land
-That show that used to play on The Discovery Channel

Plus, I have no idea where the redhead girl is from.

But the explanation for this odd assortment of faces is that they are my visuals of my (known) characters. It always helps for me to have a concrete picture for me to base imaginary people off of, so this is what I've come up with. All of these people have places in my novel world, which is strange in and of itself.

I hope they don't mind.
And as far as I know, only one of shown characters ends up dying, which is a positive thing.

I'm not giving away any names for now, because (1) that would be strange and (2) the names aren't set in stone and are up for swapping/obliteration of existence. But there they are.

I hope I don't bore you too much,
K-Minty

PS: I'm stuck. That's why I can't stop telling you about this silly endeavor to write this novel in thirty days. I'm fed up with writing this. Anyone else feel this way? Anyone??

SOS,
K-Minty

Halfway Ain't What It Crackethed Up To Be

Seeing as I got at least one remark that questioned whether the afore mentioned math problems had murdered me, I figured that I should drop by and say hi today.

First I give the mandatory NaNo update:

___

I'm lurking somewhere between despair and self-congratulations. To be on track, I need to plug at least 1100 words into my word pad doc before midnight tonight. In this way, I'm *cough*surprisingly*cough* on track. Which is kinda weird on its own.

That's where my self-congratulations is coming from. The despair part is a whole 'nother slice of pie (Thanksgiving pun not intended).

Long, complicated, and stringy summery cut short: My novel is pretty much trash. Not that I would ever---EVER---decide to just throw a whole 16,000 words in the garbage (think of all the time and sweat and bleeding fingers that it took to get that many syllables on one page!), but it's bad. I've reached the point of rambling on and intentionally inserting run-on sentences to increase word count. My own work is putting me to sleep. And when that happens, it's a sad day.
Something else that's rather confusing: November is halfway over and my main character is still meeting his future protags.

...Wha?

I mean, you'd think that he be in the middle of saving the world by now, but NO, AT 30 PAGES, HE'S STILL STUCK IN A STUPID BOOKSTORE EATING DONUTS AND COFFEE.

*enter me throwing something across the room*

Okay, I have to rant, you understand that right? After I click the orange publish button and launch this post, I'm doomed to go and sit down and cook up another stingy batch of 1000 words on my intensely unsatisfying story. It's just...wrong. All wrong.

But I no give up. But I'm not giving up.

Instead, I'm just going to resurrect it from the grave sometime when I'm board and living in a retirement home.

Such are my NaNo feelings.

___

*sigh of relief* Ohhhh, that felt good. Nothing like a depressing gulp of pessimistic attitude to cheer your day!

So tell me, tell me, how are you? Are you about to celebrate the coming Thursday with grandeur and cranberry sauce alike? Or maybe you're hoping for a white Christmas already, and crossing your fingers that there are considerably less broken bulbs for the tree lights then there were last year.

Holidays are fun. But more than that, they help us remember the important things. I always have a spot in my heart for summertime, but when the days grow dark and cold, there's some sweetness in that as well.

The End,
Kisminty

In This Moment

Learning about imaginary numbers in algebra today. Something is wrong.

Countdowningness

Hello.

Today I told someone that the Hobbit would come out in theaters in 31 days.

I did not lie.

Oatmeal, Chocolate Chips, and Merlin

You should all know that I hate cooking. So on Friday, I decided to cook.

That is, bake cookies because it's November and everyone thinks that November means cookies. To be precises, they were oatmeal chocolate chip, but does preciseness really matter? Yes. Preciseness does, in fact matter when it comes to baking. Because of this tiny factor, I only just about botched the entire batch half a dozen times. In the end, they came out under cooked and I was happy enough with my cookies. However, let it be known to all that the best part about cooking is making the messes.

I do not mind cleaning up messes. That duty has been more or less my life. Therefore: I am a mess cleaner-upper. So when I end up spilling all the oatmeal on the floor and flinging the batter across the counter because the blender went kaput, ye be warned, instead of sighing angrily at the generally terrible state of things, I will probably just crack up, clap my hands, and shout "LET'S DO IT AGAIN!!"

Messes are the only reason why cooking can be fun.

Somehow I feel as if later in life it would be a good idea to make sure that my future husband realizes that I often have the urge to blow things up in the microwave. Or that I seriously do want to pop popcorn in a pot without the lid.

Anyway, I present the evidence.

 (before the fiery furnace oven)

(after the vacation to the Sahara oven)

To be perfectly candid, these things ended up looking a little better than they tasted (or so I thought), but in the end, we all must remember the blessed proverb:

"Cookies are good. Eat them and be happy."

Finally, I'd like to take this moment and share with you, one of the most phenomenal clips of one of the most phenomenal TV shows that I happen to absolutely adore.

I empathize.
(not with the flea mention at the end, mind you, but with the whole cooking thing)

'Till another time

At another place

Kismint

When To NOT Talk About Life Insurance

At this point in my life, I'd like you to read an interview that I'm going to do with one of my NaNoWriMo (that's National Novel Writer's Month to those of you who are in the dark) characters who has yet to appear in my story. If you haven't already realized, today is November the tenth. This means that, to be on my self established word goal of 30,000, I should have 10,000 words by 11:59 PM tonight. But leaving that factor and going to the next, I want you to realize that my story is on its third chapter (okay, the first is more of a prelude, but just give it to me, 'k?) and my main character is still in the process of meeting his soon-to-be-fellow-protagonists. Today it was brought to my attention---by secret sources *ahem*dad*cough*---that I need a character sacrifice.

That is, someone (one of the protagonists) to die for a (questionably) good reason.

Unfortunately, this must happen soon in the plot development and it just so happens that I have a rather small cast of protags and none of them that I can kill off. This is due to the fact that I need a dose of character development to take you readers for a spin in the chapters ahead.
Oddly enough, I've never been faced with a problem like this before. Each time that I've had one of my story dudes suffer a death it's been by my own choice---usually because they don't have anything better to do. However, in the current case, I'm actually having to deliberately make (what I'm calling in honor of Dr. Who) a Rory Character. Only in this character's unfortunate case, he WON'T be coming back to life.

*reconsideration*...I guess he's not really a Rory Character then...

Anyway, I need someone who my readers will begin to think shows promise of becoming someone awesome by the end of the book. AND THEN IS CUT SHORT IN HIS PRIME BY A DEATH OF HORRIBLENESS. Thus, breaking the reader down, exposing them to shock, despair, and fear for the remaining dudes, causing them to blubber in tears over their Lucky Charms.

And that is why, my friends, I write now. Because, if I'm not mistaken, the character in question is due to show up right about...now.

___

Hello nameless Rory Character who will be dying presently, how are you at the moment?

Huh, me? Oh...I guess I'm doing all right. Considering the circumstances about---well, y'know. 

Your death?

*cowers a bit* Umm, yeah. That.

Oh it's fine, I'll try my best to keep it painless as possible on your part.

I appreciate that. *nods sincerely*

No prob. Anyway, I'm sure our readers are wondering: Are you a guy or a girl?

A guy. The author---err, eh, that would be you wouldn't it?---figures this is the best way to go. 

What about your name? (I gotta go through the basics here)

...Well...I actually don't kn---

*explodes in spastic episodes of glee* AIYEEEEEE! I'VE GOT IT, I'VE GOT IT, I'VE GOT IT!!

*looks hopeful* A way to bring me back to life?

NO---YOUR NAME! 

*frowns* Oh. What is it? Do tell.

YOUR NAME IS RORY! 

*mutters and looks a bit disappointed* no duh. 

Excuuuuuse me? 

Nothing. What's my next question?

Do you eat ranch?

Nope. Allergic. 

To ranch??

Yup. 

What kind of personality would you describe yourself with?

*pauses to think and mumbles:* Isn't this your job?

Shush and just answer the question.

I guess I'm kind of...shy. Maybe. Or more like indecisive. *puts hands on sides of head* Ahg! I don't know! 

*writes notes* Hmm...indecisive...that's helpful.

*moans* Glad to hear it.

What about family? Do you have any family?

A wife. We've only been married for two years. 

Oh well congrats!

Thanks! 

What about animals? Do you like animals?

Funny you should ask about that. It just so happens that I'm working as an assistant to one of the world's most knowledgeable zoologists. 

Really? Do you work at the Lab that's on the top of Humphreys Peak?

Oh yes. Have you been there?

Actually, it won't exist for the next two hundred years, but I've heard a lot about it. What do you do at work?

Just the usual: Help Dr. Smite with animal tissue samples, check research and feed the few animals we have at the establishment.

*look of worry* But it's not like one of those creepy science lab where they mutate and cause harm to the animals, right?

Oh not at all. It's perfectly humane. I even take some of the animals home with me after work---their practically family pets.

So your wife, she likes animals too?

Definitely. 

*keeps taking notes* Also good to know...I wonder if her name should be Amy...

You ask something? 

Wha?

What?

Nothing. I have one last inquiry before we break up this brief talk. 

And that is?

How perfected are your survival skills?

Like, outdoors and such?

Yeah. 

Well I'd say I could survive for a little while. I'm not the smartest person on the subject, but I know the basics. Out of mere curiosity, why do you ask?

Oh, well, I'm just wondering. Just in case you might---ah---need them by chance. You know, later on.

*gives sideways look* I'm dying in the wilderness? 

*sits up straighter and puts on innocent look, speaking quickly* I didn't say that. 

Right. Well if you excuse me, this whole conversation is making me rather uncomfortable. *gets up out of cushy chair and walks away*

*stares at ticking clock in awkward (and lonely) silence* Well that when nicely. I don't feel guilty at all. Nope. Not one bit. *gets up and walks away in opposite direction*

___


Okay, well if you were wanting to know, it is awkward trying to interview someone who you both know is going to end up dying by your hand.

But that's not the point.

The point is for you to enjoy this post because it gives your nosey little nose a sneak peak at what is to come.

Also, in that case that you might have had a brainwave, I was wondering if you have any better name ideas than just "Rory". I like that name but extra suggestions are very welcome! =)

And that closes our post of November 10, 2012. Thank you for reading!
Kismint