01 December 2013

A Happy Thanksgiving I hope you had.

(In case you can't tell what it is, my sister and I drew Yoda on the pumpkin pie.)

08 August 2013

Tag: I'm it!

A thank-you to Aarathyn Arvell

My villain. Hm. That's tough. There are so many.

I choose....Shamus Steed from Haphazardly Implausible by Miss Jack Lewis Baillot.
(I know there could be some debate about this, but at the beginning he is the villain. Bear with me.) 

1. If the main villain of your favorite book/movie/TV series showed up on your front doorstep, what would you do? (Explain who it is first...)

    Invite him in for tea and ask him how airships work.

2. Now supposing the heroes opposite this villain showed up just after your exchange. What would you do then?

     Invite them to join us, but make them stay away from each other.

3. So... moving on, the heroes defeat the villain (with some help from you, of course- whatever it may be. ;) But the next day, you're just walking along, minding your own business, when you suddenly come across the same villain... who is now lying in the dust severely wounded and unconscious. What do you do?

     I'd wonder if I was going crazy.
Then I would make sure he got medical attention. (because I am neither a doctor nor a magician)

4. Now his minions show up and kidnap both you and him and take you to their universe (or version of your universe, whatever it happens to be.) Your reaction?

     I would again question my sanity. And their motives. And their logic, since I was helping their leader. Then I'd probably either play mind games with them or befriend them, and explore and learn as much as I could. 

5. Your fantastic heroes have arrived to rescue you- but now you're faced with a choice. The villain, out of gratitude for your earlier help, (assuming you actually did help him when he was wounded) has offered you a chance to travel back to your own universe. However, the heroes warn you not to trust him. The only other way for you to get back home is to travel with the heroes on a long and dangerous journey... and there's no guarantee that you'll survive.
What. Do. You. Do.

Well, this is getting really interesting!
I'd take the journey.
One can never have enough adventure!

Now, I tag:
The Director 

20 June 2013

My Story

I grew up going to church. I always though I understood how Christianity "worked": memorize your Bible verses, be nice to others (especially when you're around church people), sing in the kids' choir, do whatever the grownups asked, dress up on Sundays, know all of the "right" answers, et cetera, et cetera. And that's what I did. I was a "good girl." I followed the rules; I even got baptized around fourth grade.

For the longest time, that's all I thought Christianity was. Dressing up, playing church, saying empty, mindless prayers before bed and every meal... Then, around seventh or eighth grade, I realized that there was, is, so much more. Dressing up on Sundays means nothing. Those empty prayers? Did I mean them? Truly? No. There is more. There is so much more!

For the longest time, I thought I was fine on my own. I didn't need anyone's help; I've got this, thanks though, maybe another time?

It took forever to get it into my thick skull that I wasn't alright, am not alright, all on my own.

I need other people.

I need God. And He wants to help. Loves to help. Loves me.

My favorite verse is Isaiah 40:31. It says, "but they who wait for the Lord will renew their strength; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not be faint." They who wait for the Lord.

Not they who zoom ahead all by themselves, who do what I was trying to do, they who wait.

Then another verse came to mind:Proverbs 3:5-6. "Trust in the Lord with all your heart; lean not in your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight." Lean not on your own understanding.

That's what I was doing. Leaning on myself. Relying on my intellect, not the Holy Spirit, which is what I should be doing.

That's when it became real. I started trying to surrender to God, to look to Him for my next move. Believe me, it's not easy. It's actually the hardest thing for me. I'm constantly battling myself to let go. To give things over to God and rely on Him and not myself.

16 June 2013

Yet Another Dream (on hazardous chemicals, the government, and airplanes)‏

The Earth was nearly in ruin. 
The overuse of pesticides and other harmful chemicals had ruined the atmosphere and poisoned the soil. Nuclear war had broken out, and the United States Government had for overstepped its bounds, growing nearly into a totalitarian regime. 
They ruled by fear. 
Like the in IRS scandals today, they were targeting Christians and conservative groups, making their lives miserable and even 'eliminating' them entirely if they were too influential. 

One day, they decided to do this to my family. 

An unofficial-looking official came to our house and walked in - he didn't even knock. 
He wore a white hazmat suit and carried a clear container (full of a glowing, sickly-green, viscous liquid) with a spraying mechanism. 
We all knew what it was - a deadly, flammable chemical (its name started with an 'e', but I don't remember exactly what it was called) that caused something like radiation poisoning, but it killed far more quickly and painfully. 
He said something about 'official business', then how our 'interfering in government affairs' had gone 'too far.' 

"Do you know what this is?" he asked obnoxiously, like a stereotypical supervillain from a child's cartoon. Not bothering to wait for an answer, he confirmed our inferences.
Paying no further heed to us, he cackled wildly and began saturating the floor, ceiling, and walls, looking everything like a firefighter from Fahrenheit 451.

We rushed into our rooms, threw on our own protective suits, tossed anything important into backpacks, went outside, and hopped into our jeep. 

Our yard was full of hazmat-suited government agents, spraying everything in sight with chemicals. Oddly, no one attempted to stop us. 

We arrived at our friend's private airport where he was readying the last few planes that would take people to a more habitable planet he'd discovered. There wasn't room for all of us on one, so we had to split up and each take separate flights.

The interior of the plane I boarded was like none other. There weren't rows of seats; it looked more like a cross between a spacecraft from a science fiction film and a boat (I can think of no other way to describe it). 

The other passengers were mostly middle-aged to older adults: a brunette named Mariel and an old man that looked like he could have been the brother of Doc Brown from Back to the Future introduced himself as Gray, but the rest didn't introduce themselves (or speak at all, for that matter). Three of my friends from school, Peter, Alex and Nathanael, were there as well. 

Takeoff went as expected; everything went normally until the third hour of our journey.

Out of nowhere, everyone except my friends and me rose silently. Gray opened the two hatches that led to the escape pods. Mariel pulled out a gun and pointed it in the direction of my friends while backing through an escape hatch.

"Sorry, kids. You four have been chosen to start a repopulation colony on Earth," she said, though we all knew it was a stinking heap of rubbish. 

They all worked for the government; this was their plan all along. 

Our friend had betrayed us. 

Lando at Bespin all over again.

I brainstormed for ideas to get us out of  this mess. Alex tried to stop them, but Mariel shot her for her efforts - her aim was true and she died instantly. 

Before we could do anything else, the escape pods shot into space.

Peter, Nathanael, and I were left in a  plane we couldn't fly over a dying planet with the world out to get us. 

I ran into the cockpit; the pilot and copilot were gone and the plane was losing altitude.  

"PARACHUTES!" I screamed to my friends. 

"GONE!" Peter shouted in reply. 

"Scour the place!" I ordered as I frantically scanned the control panel. I found a joystick and pulled it back, hoping that it had something to do with controlling the altitude. 

All at once, countless figures appeared on the radar as a crash followed by an explosion jarred the aircraft. 

We were hit!

Alarms blared and lights flashed as the air screamed through our failed engines. 

We were going to crash. 

Nathanael and Peter appeared suddenly with three parachutes.

We jumped.

18 April 2013


The cold, wet air clung to my skin.

Freezing needles of water stung my face.
         Rain or snow, I could not tell.

    Wind whistled, knocking bare branches together like a fifth-grade percussion section.

As I strode down the driveway, the wind whipping at my hair, filling my cloak like the sails of a man-of-war.

    I stopped walking and closed my eyes.

First, I was standing on the balcony of a palace overlooking rolling plains.
     It was sundown, but instead of colors streaked across the sky, I saw only forbidding clouds.
                         Approaching like a prowling wolf.

The wind slammed into me, yelling into my ears, 
      "Run! Run while you can, before it's too late!"

Then, I stood at the bow of a mighty ship.
     A man-of-war.

Nefarious clouds glared at me from the horizon, the baleful scowl warning me to 'beware'.

    A cold breeze whispered into my ear,
             "Beware, for I am coming! Beware! Beware the mighty storm!"

Then, without warning, the cold breeze grew into a mighty gale, barreling into me.

It threw back my deep hood, cloak billowing behind me, as it had never done before.
My arms grew goosebumps.
Wind drew his icy fingers down my back, chilling me to the bone.
As I turned to return to the main deck, I heard once more, a chilling whisper:
    "Beware! Beware the mighty storm!"

15 April 2013

Another Dream Pirates of the Caribbean-style

In this dream, I was a small red-headed girl of about twelve, living with her father, a merchant, on an island in the Caribbean. One day, a certain band of evil pirates just happened to decide to attack a certain trading island. That island just happened to be the one that my father and I lived on.

When my father glanced out his office window, he noticed another ship coming into port. Nothing unusual. Then, he noticed the black flag. He gathered all of his important documents and hid them where absolutely no one would find them. Then, he ran out into the street warning everyone. Then he sprinted off to find me.

“Go!” he shouted. “Hide in the woods!” I didn’t want to leave him, but he insisted and pushed me in the direction of the woods. “Go! RUN! I'm not about to lose you to those [censored]!”

In shock at his use of that certain word and the attack, I ran as fast as I could, wiping tears from my face. When I reached the second tallest tree, I started climbing to the top, where I had built a secret fort.

It wasn’t much, just a platform of scrap wood with a canopy roof. Inside, I had hidden a few blankets, shells, colorful stones, and a bow with a few arrows. I reached for the waterproof box containing the bow and opened it. Underneath the bow, I found brown pants, a green shirt, and brown boots. They had once belonged to my older brother. He was the only other person that knew about the fort.

I changed into my brother’s old clothes, grabbed my weapons, and climbed down. I raced to the edge of the forest and into the lower branches of another tree. Nocking an arrow, I scanned the area for a pirate. No such luck. Then, out of nowhere, a young high-ranking British naval officer spotted me and ran over.

He tried to hide his shock at seeing a girl dressed like a man, but he didn’t do as well as he hoped.

“This is no place for a young lady. You must come aboard with me where you’ll be safer,” he said. I just stared. “Please, it’s for your own good. You can come aboard with me either the easy way, or the hard way. Take your pick.”

Hmm, let’s see. The “easy way” meant willingly, of my own accord, and the “hard way” meant forcibly, against my will, probably with additional issues. Who knew with the British navy? Sighing, I left my bow and arrows in the tree and climbed down, obviously not the least bit pleased.

Carefully, we made our way to the ship. I constantly worried about my father, and even once thought that I’d seen him keeping two or three pirates at bay.

On the ship, everyone was running to and fro. No one paid attention to the inappropriately dressed girl standing at the bow. The pirates drove off the Brits (while I was still aboard) and ransacked the island.

Two days later, The Flying Dutchman (commandeered by the infamously ruthless Davy Jones) overtook us and attacked, sinking the ship.

For reasons unknown to all, Jones gave me a choice: die, or go on board his ship with them.

He promised that neither he nor his men would touch me in any way. I made the obvious choice and watched as they all swore an oath not to touch me.

Surprisingly, I made friends with half the crew. Jones couldn’t figure it out. Couldn’t figure me out. He tried to scare me, but everything he tried failed.

Finally, he lost it. He just broke down and started sobbing. He told me his whole life story and how he became a pirate and about his hatred of the world. Then, he mastered his emotions and became angry. I left and went topside.

We stopped somewhere, and Jones told me that I had to either stay for the foreseeable future or leave. I had no family left: my father had been killed in the attack. I had nothing really to do with my life. However, I made a difference to these people. Many turned against their piratical ways and left. They respected me, and I helped make them live right.

01 April 2013

Another Dream

In this dream I was a man, about 23 years old, I think.
It was sometime in the early 1800s.
Anyway, the entire British Government was after me for something I did not do.
After quite a while eluding them, they caught me after an almost-epic chase (but only because someone tripped me most unfairly).
There was no trial. 
They made me do hard labor for a while. (I think it was at the docks, but it looked more like a canal. It was something like pulling canal boats, but not quite. I have the picture in my mind, but I cannot quite describe it. [EDIT: actually, I recently saw Les Miserables, and the opening scene was uncannily similar, minus the water, the surroundings, and all of the singing. Here's the clip of the opening scene:])

 During this, a fellow unfortunate was complaining about his life and how hard it was and how much he had suffered, et cetera, et cetera. So, during a short break, I pulled off my gloves and rolled up my sleeves and showed him my arms. They were partially black from an incident involving tar that I had to go through to escape the British Regulars. (Oddly enough, I had all of the scars that I have in real life, but they were almost a purplish color, and they, along with the scars I had acquired in the dream, really stood out.)
A while later, the Brits got in a war with France (It seemed WWI-like, based on the uniforms and equipment), and they forced me into their army.
Needless to say, everyone hated me, except for a friend that I have in real life (Williams) who was also there for an unknown reason.
The commander despised me and took every opportunity to make my existence miserable.
Towards the end of  the dream, he was separating our group into two.
In order to do so, he had us take off our boots and set them on the floor in front of us with the tops open.
Those who could jump into them on the first try were sent to one place on the front, and everyone else to a different area.
When I turned to say something to Williams, the commander replaced my boots with a pair much too small for me, but not so small that the difference was noticeable at first glance.
Williams succeeded, but I obviously failed. Just like the commander had planned.
Then I discovered that my father was fighting for the French, and he was killed right in front of me.