A bit behind.

Yeah, I haven't posted in a while. As I'm sure some might be disappointed to find, this was not because I'm dead. No, it was because of stuff and things.
Anyway. It's been awhile. There were a lot of things, things done and left undone, and I'm behind on a lot of things—especially, I feel, blogging. Thus this post has sprang forth from the mysterious nebulae of my creativity, which of late has been rather in the mood to not shine.

I am doing NaNoWrimo (As I am wont to do.), and—also as I am wont to do—I'm not doing so well. (Seriously, I'm beginning to think 2010 was a fluke, beginners luck.)
The first two days were good—not stellar, mind you, but still good. I got to 4k relatively quickly, but then came to the realization that the words I'd been chasing were a false thread. (Inner editor, not inner haggler. The latter is an evil adversary, but I actually advocate listening to the former, even when walking in NaNoLand. But maybe that's why I fail so much…) So I stopped, fleshed out the characters a little, defining them better, and an outline appeared in my mind like developing film. Then I started writing, using only the opening scene from the original.
Now my problem is that I'm torn between following the outline and not. Mind you, I know the outline has holes, it's imperfect. My vision of the story at the time I made it was, and still is, incomplete. Some things are wrong, some things will change. Some characters might be cut, some will be adapted. Even so, I pushed forward in spite of the doubt.
That's when the Evil Inner-Haggler hit me, striking through said doubt. Crafty he was, but his tactics are known (now). Disguised as Trusty Inner-Editor, he insults and tears down. "This is terrible," he says, without ever offering a reason why or how to fix it. "You're ruining the story," he says, no matter which path I try to go down. In listening to him, my word count has been severely slowed.
Still, now that I'm aware, surely it should be easy to move on? Oh, I wish. You see, knowing he's there, lurking, has made it even more difficult to trust myself. How do I know if this is the right path? How do I know if what I've already written is the right path? To top it off, I've been sharing my words as I type them up, adding pressure I—foolish me—thought would help.
It took me awhile, but I think I've been given the solution: continue from a latter thread, then connect things afterwords and fix whatever problems arise when I'm holding an entire manuscript. Miss Inner-Editor's advice. It's something that occurred to me before, but got shouted down by Evil Inner-Haggler telling me: it doesn't matter, it'll sill be terrible. The fact that I listened is just another example of me cowardly giving in to the course of inaction.
I have yet to fully silence my doubts, but I'll work through them with skill and tenacity, which is what being a writer is all about. After all words have been said, writing is still work.
So that's been my highly stressful last couple of weeks, but it could've been worse. A bit of prayer, a bit of critical thinking, and I'm back on two feet. Thanks, and here's praying that I want fall down again:

Lord be with me as I write,

Guide my pen and be my light.

Grant to me the faith to trust,

To do what I must.

In writing as in life,

Help me to use my gifts

For You.

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,
M. S.

A night to remember...

(Warning, this post was written while very sleep deprived, and is completely unedited. There, now you may proceed with all due caution.)

It all started at the beginning of last week. Well, before that actually. But the awesome started last night. All the crazy awesome extravaganza I could ever wish for...

VGHS season 2 premiere. Awesome.

But first there was a work shift, then marshal arts—karate, german longsword, and a bit of parkour wall spin practice just for fun. We got out after ten, picked up the Bishop, and picked up a third brother for good measure. So our party was four.

But one does not simply gather people for a party. We armed ourselves with energy drinks and provisions. And, I must admit, some small amount of alcohal. Don't worry, we drank responsibly, and none of us got drunk.)

The party started sometime after eleven? I'm not really sure—it doesn't really matter. Much beverage was consumed (cider, mostly monster, red bull, jack, jager, water...) sausages were put in the oven to roast, chips were poured into a bowl, and we sat down to re-watch the first season of VGHS. And it was just as good as I remembered it from my last re-watch two days ago. Yes, a bit campy, but that's part of the fun.

It ended sometime around 1:30am, I think. After which we went looking for season two first ep. But it wasn't out yet, despite promises that it would come on the 25th.

(Yes, I know my sentence structure is haphazard. Lazy. It's gonna get worse. But give me I break, I've been up for almost 24 hours)

Delays. Hardrive problems. Noooooo!!! So ensued shenanigans with Halo split-screen. Much fun. Much frustration. That sorta died off, though, so we moved on to other things. Like stalking Freddie Wong's twitter, the Rocket Jump site, and finally youtube where the video was processing. For ages. I was there from about the time there were six hundred likes (yes, before the video had finished processing. I think we got up to around 3k? don't really remember clearly.) I was part of the comment frenzy, reaching something like 5k comments? Before the upload. (New top comments every ten seconds or so. About a comment every second—atleast.)And I was there watching Jimmy Wong's live feed. Monster and jager were my fuel, working with red bull and anticipation.

It was awesome. Most fun I've had in ages.

Finally, around 6am, the episode launched. Hurrah! It was just as good as I thought it would be. Better, even. (Hat is off to any and all involved.)

By that time, we'd lost one of our number to sleep, and the other had to get ready for work. (Speaking of which, I go into work at 11:30am. Nope, won't be sleeping till after I get out at 8. That's 36h. Not my record, but close. (I know, I'm a lightweight when it comes to sleep dep)) :)

But two remained, and it was still much fun. And it's still much fun now, living in the calm before I have to go to work. I'm the only one here who's awake now, but everything's a-okay. I'm blessed. Thank you God. And thank you to everyone involved in the show and the comment frenzy. It was one wile-of-a-time.

See ya, space cowboy (or cowgirl, as the case may be.) Have fun out there, with lots of sunshine and cool. Yeah. Stuff.... I'm a bit lost right now, just rambling... I should probably end this post about now. Yep.

Go mbeannaí Dia duit, (I hope I spelt that right...)

M. S.

Heralding the Night

Western skies at dusk. (I should really invest in an actual camera)

...

M. S.

Good Morning

As the title says, good morning!!! no, I haven't slept in.... I'm not sure actually. Maths aren't working at the moment. In fact, this lack of sleep is probably why I'm on the roof, see:

But enough of me. Hears the view: (yes, right now I can hear it. It's speaking to me.(and I might just be a little bit crazy(sleep deprivation!(enough parenthesis?(not quite(there this should be enough)))))

Not bad, huh? At least, I don't think so. But then, I'm a little high right now(sleep deprivation... Also, I'm on top of a second story roof. Punny, I know.)

Anyway, have a wonderful, blessed day, full of sunshine and baked awesome. And pirate-robot-ninjas-elves, if you're into that.

I'm gonna go have breakfast now, so slán.

M. S.

The Yummies

So, for dinner tonight, we had bef stroganov. Homemade. Delicious. Thank God for cattle (genus Bos).

But that's not the best part—not by half. No, I made blueberry clafoutis for desert.

(Is that confectioner's sugar on top, or did it snow? Answer: yes. Sweet-fake-snow is the best kind.)

This is the part where I would, and perhaps should, provide you with a recipe. However, I don't really remember my exact process (I rarely make deserts the same way twice, relying on copious amount of improv tempered only by experience.), so it would be a bit vague. Besides, there are already many delicious recipes out there from which one can get a basic idea. I am of course being lazy, but I trust all of you know how to use google. Or Bing. Whichever's your preference.

And for maximum fun, I suggest you pick the hardest and easiest looking recipes (or any three), make them both (all), and then  experiment as you please. That is my challenge. 

Have fun. And I wouldn't mind hearing about it.

Go mbeannai Dia duit,

M. S.

Wow... (spur of the moment music post)

Graceland, the new tv show with Aaron Tveit (I hope I'm spelling that correctly) and some other people, used a Radical Face song (I'm 98.932% sure it was Radical Face. (Of course that's a real figure, why would you ask?) )

I'm happy now...

Oh, here's a vid of his for people who don't know him:

He's cool, one of my new favorites, and yeah, I think that's pretty much all I wanted to say. Have a nice knight yawl (in joke, don't ask. It involves ships, and that's all I'm going to say.).

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,
M. S.

From the Storm (and after)

Powers out, and the internet with it(i'm writing this with the precious little battery i have left inmy iPod.)so I don't know when this'll go up... But, power will probably be back on when it does...

So, if you've read much of this blog, then you probably already know about my atypical feelings towards storms. After a powerful storm, like this one which tore down trees (mostly leaving them strewn across streets) and leaving us without power, I get to thinking about things (Dangerous, I know.), about why I feel the way I do...

Even when I'm out being a wild maniac, or when I'm helping neighbors clear away wreckage from the streets during a calm, I still feel warm. Safe. Protected. Perhaps this is because I've never suffered injury, or perhaps it's because no one I know personally has been hurt, or perhaps it's because i'm young and foolish; but I think it's more than all those, true though they may be.

Storms, in all their fury and power, remind me of God's power, remind me that He is looking out for me, even when I don't realize. It makes me think about how truly blessed I really am. And it gives me energy.

Sometimes though, I stop, I remember others who may or may not be suffering in the storm, who might be in danger, who are out of my reach. For a moment, I forget God, so lost to worry and helplessness am I.

And that is a terrible place to be. Every sound of thunder, every clash between ground and sky, becomes something to fear--not for myself (never for myself), but for others, even and especially for those I don't know as well as I should. Every siren crying in the distance becomes a lucid nightmare, and I feel guilty about the joy of moments before. When that happened, it is hard to trust. Control goes out the window.

Yet even then, God did not abandon me. Somehow I became able to think rationally again, to pray. And after a moment's prayer I gained the strength to once more leave my fears and worries in his hands. And that is a good place to be, one I never want to leave.

Wherever you are, and whoever you are, I pray that you stay safe against whatever chaos or uncertainty you might be facing; and I pray that you, too, might know the comfort and joy that I'm feeling now.

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,

M. S.

Update: Yes, it's roughly ten o'clock the night after the storm, and power is back. Yippee skippee! Alleluia! And everyone who still has no power, hold in there. I'm praying for you, and the women and men of the power company are surely working their hardest.

P.S. Please excuse all the tense shifting and clunky prose. It's not my best work, but I don't think I'm going to edit this post. Just cause. Also, I'm very thankful I live in a neighborhood where people go out and help each other the same night the storm came through. I talked to people I don't think I've ever talked to before, it was very cool. So I'm very thankful. I'm just thankful for everything right now.

Whooppee! skibberoo! Life is good! (Darkness really is only for light to shine in.)

And now I'm just drawling on. Sorry. Goodnight all. :)  ... ... ... (I just used an emoticon? Ah, must be the caffeine kicking in... Caffeine, another thing I'm thankful for...

Seriously, goodnight. I mean it this time. I think. Night night!

Mickel out.

Why am I a writer?

Why am I a writer? Why do I write? Ask me this, and chances are I'll flounder. So I should probably think of something now.

There many reasons, I'm sure, ranging  from the overused standard "because I can't not write" to complex and in depth piles of dirt which I don't feel like digging up right now.

So instead, let's look into past dreams, before this one came into being. When I was very young, I went through what I now think of as very normal stages of things I wanted to become: marine, CIA operative, cowboy, knight, hobbit, Robin Hood-wizard-time traveler... The list goes on. Obviously I couldn't be all of those things. Heck, just being more than one would be very difficult. And seeing as, at seven, my acting chops weren't very developed, the only thing for me was to start writing.

Really though, that's not it at all.  No, I write because I enjoy it. Do I need anymore reason than that? Do any of us need more reason? 

God has blessed me with the triple joys of movement, writing, and baking. Between the three of them, I'm pretty sure I don't have much sanity left, but I do have fun. I'm not saying it's all rainbows and ponies, but what is the darkness except something for light to shine in.

Search for your talents, and when you find them, hold fast.

Have a very blessed day, and don't forget to have fun,

M. S.

Let it rain

It stormed last night and, as always, it brought excitement with it.

There is a standing tradition in my house that, when it rains, people go outside. Now, I'm not talking about sitting on the porch like sane people (why would we, any of us, be sane?), no, my siblings and I go where the wind batters us and we can feel the water sliding past our feet.

Sometimes, we put on felt fedoras and trenchcoats, we walk and talk like we think it's the '40s and Chandler wrote us. Other times, we race outside at the first crash of thunder, not bothering with silly things such as coats or shoes. We run and howl with the wind, finding within the storm a kindred spirit... Actually I think it's just me that does that last—the bare feet thing, I mean.

I don't know what it is about storms, but I love them, I love being in them. Perhaps it's their wild, rampant energy. Perhaps they make me feel more alive... I don't really know, and maybe if I did I wouldn't be drawn to them so much (unlikely).

There's just something about being in the wet, where I can feel the thunder—when I'm there, I don't feel fear. Storms, it seems, are made for me, and I thank God for every one. Lightning might strike me one day, but the thought doesn't bother me. It hasn't turned on me yet. 

What about you, unidentified reader, how do you feel about storms? Do you think about them as blessings, or do you see them as inconveniences? Are they things to marvel at from safety, or things to experience firsthand, close up, from within?

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,
M.S.

Injuries & Incidents

So I hurt my foot recently. Again. To keep a short story short: I'm a bumbling idiot.

Details? Fine. I had a bad encounter with a curb whilst walking to work. Twisted my right foot. Oddly, this is the third injury of this sort I've sustained in the past six months, and they've all been to the same foot. (And I call myself a traceur, hah!)

I'd blame the recent blazer weather (92f?!), but previous injuries happened in Nov and Jan. And I like to blame myself...

Anyway, moving on. I've relapsed, once again suffering slush readers with the products of my crazy imagination. Fingers are crossed, but I'm trying not to expect much. If there's one thing I've learned from rejections, it's the need to push that work(or works) from my mind and move on to the next, so that's what I'll do.

If anyone out there is reading this, and has something of their own making the sub rounds, I wish you luck. And if you're afraid of submitting your own work, lest you be rejected, then don't worry. Everyone gets rejections (except Heinlein, and let's not compare ourselves to him. I don't need to feel inadequate right now.)

Yawn. Wtf, it's four after four. No wonder I'm tired. I'll edit and tag this post tomorrow, when my eyelids aren't trying to drag me to sleep.

Goodnight (or should that be goodmorning?) and God bless,

M. S.

a little romp — with pictures!

A new post! Yes, it has been ages, so let's go ahead and get my customary apologies out of the way. I'm sorry I was absent so long. Three minutes of that time can be written away as "why can't I remember my password?" time, but for the rest I have no excuse. I offer myself up for whatever punishments might be desired. Please, nothing too humiliating.

Now lets move on to the content. I went to my local park today (pictured above), which proved fun and nostalgic both. It was a much needed breath of fresh air—which might sound like a cliche, but I haven't left the house except to go to work in several weeks so sometimes cliches are true. My mind has been preoccupied with stupid things, like my new ipod, which have caused writing block—actual blockage this time, not log jam stuff. I needed a fix.

And what is a better fix than broken trees? How about a random rusted-out shovel?

From the first moment I came across these aged metal remains, I knew there was a story to be had. And I was a bit creeped out. (Come on, aren't you creeped out by shovels in the middle of woods? Haven't you seen any movies?)

But there were no skulls underneath the leaves, no skeletal hands reaching out of the dirt, grasping for one last breath of life. Everything held the air of normality—except the shovel, of course, but it can't speak for itself, so let us move on.

There was also a tree... Well, there were many trees, obviously, but this tree was special. It had boards nailed into it for some unknown reason, and it was the only one like it. (Okay, so I'm exaggerating. Obviously I didn't check every tree. What do you take me for? I don't have that much time on my hands. Not quite, anyway)

Here's a pic:

And a view from the topish:

You can see the CC! Nothing spectacular, I know, but can you imagine how much fun this was for my imagination? I'm calling it the Watcher Tree. Also, the descent was a bit tricky. If there hadn't been a fifteen ft (est.) drop to mushy uneven ground, I would've jumped. But as it was...

Oh, and there was also a hollow! (Is hollow the right word? I can't remember. If someone could tell me, I'd be obliged.) Every time I see something like this, I want to crawl inside. But there was a goblin down there, and I decided it would be best to leave him in peace.

And this was pretty much my entire day. You might not be able to tell it from the pictures, but it was very exciting. I ran about in the woods, listened to my own echoing laughter, and pretended I was fay. I also crept along a creek bed, pretending I was eluding some warlord and his men. I don't remember his name, but he was your standard prince-john-tyrant type, so perhaps he doesn't deserve to be remembered.

 What about you, how was your day? I'd love to hear about it. No, really, I would. Stories make me happy.

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,

M. S.