Do You Like Me?

Fandom: Glee
Ship: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson
For: Shuffle Challenge
Inspired By: Do You Like Me by ALL CAPS

Do you like me, yes or no?
Do you think that I'm cute?
Would you date me?
You can say maybe
I just have to know

Another Full Moon

I'm gonna try and get into the habit of blogging at least every other day. I was going to blog about my first day back at school (today) but it was so boring and uneventful. Of course, I suppose it could have been more interesting if I hadn't only gotten two hours of sleep last night. Nothing is interesting when I'm exhausted.

Here's a short story I wrote months ago about Remus Lupin and the Marauders experiencing another full moon. For those unfamiliar with the Harry Potter series, Remus Lupin is a werewolf. He (Moony; Harry's 3rd Year DADA teacher), James Potter (Prongs; Harry's father), Sirius Black (Padfoot; Harry's Godfather), and Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail) were best friends at Hogwarts and they called themselves the Marauders. When Remus' friends found out about his being a werewolf, they started researching animagi. In their Fifth Year, they finally succeeded in (illegally) turning themselves into animagi (people who can change into a specific creature at will) so they could accompany Remus during the full moon.

Without any further ado, I give you, Another Full Moon:

Pondering

Firstly, I am writing this on my new Netbook, and I love it! But anyway...

So, I have an idea. I'm thinking of starting a "Creative Writing Tips" blog, where - like the title suggests - I give tips on creative writing. I'm following a couple of blogs that do the same thing, but they hardly ever post and I get bored just waiting around. So I decided that, hey, I could start one! It would also save me having to explain speech tags and such when I'm giving concrit.

I can just say "look [here], [here], and [here] for more detailed information on these subjects!"

No, I won't. I'll still probably go into detailed explanations again and again and again. I always do. It's who I am.

But anyway... I'd love for your feedback. Do you like this idea? Would you follow the blog? Do you think, honestly now, that I'd be able to do it? Also, I'm unsure of what to call it.

It's not something I'm going to rush into and regret later; I'm going to think about it for a while before I consider making a move, but I do genuinely like the idea. I have to think over it, think of a decent name, create a decent design, consider how long I should wait between each post - things like that. It'll be fun, but depending on time, it could also feel like a chore. I know with the Dribble Drabble challenge, I enjoyed it so much but some days, I just couldn't be bothered. I don't want this to feel the same.

So, yeah. Leave a comment with your opinion; it'll be muchly appreciated.

Oh, and before I go.... I did this photomanipulation last night, and I'm really proud of it. The girls and the field were borrowed from here, and the noose from here.

Please note that the noose isn't stock. 

The photographer is a friend of mine (Hey Katie!) and she granted me permission to use it. If you wish to use it in your own photomanipulation, you'll have to ask her.

Keep blogging!

The Writer's Block

If you're interested in the Writer's Block, the book I mentioned in my previous blog, you can find it here. It's a really great book, and if you're a writer, I strongly suggest you buy it. It's genius.

Writer's Digest

A couple of days ago, I found a Twitter acount called @WritersDigest and I've fallen in love with it. It posts links to articles about writing, such as '8 Basic Writing Blunders' and 'Brenda Novak on 5 ways to make your romance story stand out to editors and agents' usually from their site (but sometimes from elsewhere), and they're so helpful with writing. I love it. They just give little tips, and they're really inspirational. If you enjoy writing, or you want to improve your writing skills, I highly suggest you follow them/keep an eye on them(if you don't have Twitter). They're honestly fantastic. And in the Brenda Novak article, a certain quote stood out to me.

“Give one plot to 10 different authors and you’ll get 10 very different stories.”

And it's true. As a writer, I know it's true. Unless two writers think very much alike or one is just a very good copycat/thief, the stories written around the same plot are bound to be different. I love this. Of course, it doesn't always work. For example, give someone the plot of "good vampire falls for the new human girl at high school", and you'll end up with something a lot like Twilight. Give someone the plot of "mad scientist creates and neglects a creature from dead bodies, who gets angry although he wants to love.", and you'll most likely end up with something similar to Frankenstein. However, give them something like "teenage boy unwillingly becomes a spy and tries to save the world at a posh boarding school" and unless they've read the book I'm thinking of, it won't end up much like Point Blanc. The vaguer the plot is, naturally, the more different the stories will be, and that's the beauty of it. Ever heard the saying 'Simplicity is bliss'? Well, that applies here.

So, anyway, check out Writers Digest! If you're a writer, I highly doubt it'll dissappoint.

In other news, I went on an edit frenzy last night. It was slightly insane. I made four banners within the space of an hour and a half without them looking rushed, and while I was talking to a couple of friends online, as well*.

That one is probably my favourite, because it changed so much. Originally, I had no idea what I was doing. I was randomly colouring different parts in different shades of orange and red or whatever. Then I made it purple. Even after that, I still had no idea who I was going to put on the picture, but after sticking some trees with low opacity on it, I found this beautiful picture of Karen Gillan on Google Images. However, purple didn't look nice, so I changed the colour to green, and then toyed around with different parts of the background, changing the shading in certain areas until I was happy, and then stuck Karen on it. I really like it. Although, that being said, I also love this one ...

While browsing Paramore pictures on Google Images, and listening to Paramore on my phone (It has an MP4 built into it... what can I say? It's cheaper than buying a fancy phone and an iPod touch or whatever separately, and it works fine, so why not?), I found this picture just as Where the Lines Overlap started. Naturally, the cogs in my brain started moving, because the first line just fit the picture so much. After a bit of over-excited editing, this was born. Here's the original picture.

The others, along with these, will be up on my DeviantART shortly.
Keep blogging!

*Multitasking FTW!

Aichmophobia

I sit in the chair nervously, my stomach flipping, my breathing unsteady and my heart racing at a hundred miles an hour. I keep my eyes straight ahead, staring through the window as I bite my lip. The lady asks questions and I reply in monotone, the answer coming to me as if I were in autopilot. She makes a joke to try and lighten the situation as she cleans the skin on my bare arm, but I don't even smile. The nerves are almost unbearable. My legs bounce as she continues to talk, my senses inhumanly alert. I hear her shuffling things around on the desk behind me and I screw my eyes shut, my body automatically tensing. She makes me relax my muscles, and I force them to stay that way, searching my mind frantically for a distraction as the moment draws closer. I feel like crying, like screaming at her to stay away from me. I can feel myself start to tremble as she stops talking, and I clamp my feet to the floor, trying to make my body as still and relaxed as possible.

When I feel a light stinging in my arm, I know it's happening, and I'm petrified. My mind won't create a distraction; all I can think about is the feeling in my arm. The stinging lessens to almost nothing, but then returns. It's not enough for me respond to it, though knowing what has caused the sting makes me want to tense and jerk away. I don't, though, knowing it'll be over with soon enough.

And then it's gone. I feel her put pressure on my arm where the stinging had been, and I know it's the cotton ball they use to slow the bleeding. I let out a shaky breath I didn't realise I had been holding, keeping my eyes closed. I didn't want to open them just yet, not while the thing could still be in view. She asks me to hold the cotton while she fills out the paperwork, so I instinctively bring a hand round and press against the cotton. There's a slight ache, but I know it'll fade within a matter of minutes. It happened last time.

I risk a glance over my shoulder, focusing on the pen moving across the paper as she fills it in, not allowing myself to look at the other contents on the desk. I'm still trembling, my heart is still racing, and I just want to get away. She smiles and tells me that it wasn't so bad, as adults do when they want to reassure you, and I laugh shakily, cursing myself internally when tears spring into the corners of my eyes. I turn my head away and blink until the tears retreat. She takes the cotton away from my arm and tries to put a plaster on it, but can't see the wound. It's already stopped bleeding. Despite my unsettled stomach, I look at my arm and point out the small pierce in the skin wordlessly, not trusting my voice.

As I stand, I walk carefully, my legs unstable. I try to tell myself that it's alright, that it was the last vaccination I'll be having for cervical cancer, that it's all over now and I won't have another needle near me for a long time. But knowing the needle came so close, close enough to pierce my skin and send dead cancer cells into my bloodstream, is enough to keep me in a state of near tears and walking on unsteady feet for the rest of the day. I put on a brave face, smile and say it didn't hurt much. My friends know that I hate needles, but they have no idea just how aichmophobic I am. I don't intend on letting them know any time soon.

Goldie's Back!

I completely forgot about blogging today until a friend suggested that I wrote a 'Writing Tips' blog (something that I'm considering, actually). I honestly don't know how I could forget, since I've been doing it all month. I have the memory of a goldfish. Alas, Goldie is back.

I haven't gotten the chance to watch Doctor Who yet because I've been wrapped up with writing and homework and chatting online (doh!), so I'll have to find some time to watch it throughout the week. I am such an idiot. I still have all of last week's Neighbours to catch up on, and that'll keep building up as the days go by until I sit down, go onto YouTube and watch it. Oh, and that's another thing ... YouTube. Because I've been using Mixpod for music lately, I haven't used YouTube at all. My subscriptions box is going to be bursting at the seams, I just know it will, so I'll have to find time to watch all of the videos in my subscriptions, too.

This weekend has gone insanely fast. I spent all day yesterday out and about, from 11am (considering I got up at 10am) 'til 7:45pm. Most of that was spent travelling, so it's no surprise that Saturday feels like it went by in the blink of an eye ... but I woke up at nine-something this morning, and I've been doing nothing but sitting on the laptop. It only feels like I woke up a few hours ago, and it's 9:30pm. I woke up twelve hours ago, when it feels like two. But even though it only feels like I just woke up, I feel absolutely exhausted. There is no way in hell I'll be awake and alert enough to go to school tomorrow. Blehh.

I actually had an idea last night for today's blog. But, like I said, Goldie's back, and all I can remember was that I had an idea. Fantastic, eh? So, I'm sort of just improvising until I feel it's long enough to be "blog worthy" ... I have no idea how long that's supposed to be, though, so I'm just winging it.

I love it when people come to me for advice on writing. They're always really sweet about it, flattering me into helping them. My friend, Bonnie, sent me a comment about an hour ago. It said, and I quote (copy/pasted!):

Stephie, where do you find inspiration for your writing? I'm addicted to painting, but I want to get back into the swing of writing. You're the best writer I know. Germany is a barren place right now...so not much inspiration is available to me. Help?

(Fun fact about Bonnie: she got me into Cinema Bizarre! Yup. That's how we officially became friends xD).

Usually, I hate it when people ask me for advice, because it's usually about boys, friends, clothes, and things I generally have no experience in. "My boyfriend broke up with me for my friend! Steph, what should I do?!" I don't know! How am I meant to know? Why ask me? So on the rare occasion someone asks me for advice on things I care about and I know about, like writing or photoediting, I love it, and I love to help them (although I do get carried away and my answers are long-winded xD). And I love how they say "You're the best writer I know, so can you help me...?" While someone gushing about my strong points in writing, or my teacher saying "This is good, Steph!" are flattering, when someone says something like "You're the best writer I know", it really really flatters me. It's the small things that count, I guess, eh? ^.^

Aaand, I'm out of time. My mum wants me off the computer now. I have to go catch some winks* before school tomorrow. Keep blogging!

*Who invented that? Oh, I'm just going to catch some winks. Huh? xD

He had a one-hand feel on the steering wheel...

Taylor Swift, get your stupid country music OUT OF MY HEAD. I've had 'Our Song' stuck in my head for a good week or so, and sadly enough, I know all the words. It doesn't help that, despite myself, I have to keep listening to it. I don't even like it. Grr. Although, I admit, I really like her twang in Our Song. But that's all I like about it. So hmph. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!

Anyway... I found this really cool anime character creator thingy on DeviantART. And I made a couple of characters for a story I've been planning. Because I'm a paranoid little girl, I don't want to share with you the plot or anything (mainly because it's still in the works, partly because I'm afraid of being plagarized). Just know that it's a spy thing. Kind of like the Alex Rider series (which I'm reading at the moment, go figure). Anyway, these are the characters I created ...

Eleanor.
The reason I made three for her is because she's the main character, and I was experimenting. The picture looks really small here. It's bigger, normally, but I don't want to make it massive. You can't see her freckles here; that's not fair! Oh well. She has freckles, because I looovve freckles.

So, yes, say hi to Elle!

I had no idea what to call this character at first. I was really tempted to call him James, because he started out as just someone who Eleanor knew and got along with, but then his character steadily started growing in my mind, and he just didn't seem like a James any more. Also, I had no idea what he looked like, but now that I've made this, I'm certain that this is what he looks like.
I called him Jack.
Even though one of my friends is called Jack, and he's amazing, and this Jack kind of won't be amazing ...

I think he looks like a Jack. Just a matter of personal opinion, I suppose.

But, yes. His name is Jack.





I really have nothing else to say. My grandad's doing good, I have homework to do and can't be bothered to do it, and I haven't written my dribble drabble yet. So, I guess I'd better get a move on, eh?

Keep blogging!

Dribble Drabble

Taking a break from my childhood thing to advertise. Mwaha. Please note that I haven't been asked to do this; I'm doing it of my own free will to support a friend and boost the community of a forum I moderate.

If you're an aspiring kid/teen writer, check out KWC, a forum dedicated to helping kids and teens improve their writing. Participate in seasonly challenges, post your writing, guide other writer's through writers block and have fun! Talk about your favourite books and authors, learn different writing techniques, and watch your writing improve rapidly. KWC is a place for everyone; we'll welcome you with open arms.

Home For Christmas: A Short Story

So, because I'm lazy, I can't be bothered to write an actual blog today. So I decided to leave you with this. In November/December 2009, our homework project was to write a short story revolving around Christmas. Now, because I'm incapable of writing happy, fluffy, joyful stories, I decided to write something a little more depressing. And, this is it...

Alice drew her legs up to her chest, her arms wrapping around them in a half-hearted attempt to keep warm. With less than an hour until midnight, Christmas crept closer with every tick and every tock of the persistent clock on the wall. The decorations had lost their appeal weeks ago, as did the annoying carols that everyone insisted on singing at the top of their voices, no matter how out of tune they may be.

But now, there were no noisy carollers around her, no Christmas specials on the TV. She didn't want to hear any of it. The house was silent, except for the ticking of the clock above her. The silence was disturbing, tense, as if Alice was expecting someone to jump out at her with a kitchen knife. She shuddered at the thought, looking around nervously.

Paranoia had stuck to her like a plague the past few weeks. She looked over her shoulder as she walked down the street, feeling like someone was following her; she'd wake up in the middle of the night and run to the baby's cot, in fear that someone had snuck in and taken him; she left her light on at night because she was afraid of something lurking in the darkness. It was pathetic. Alice knew that no one was there, but she felt so defenceless and scared all the time without anyone there to protect her. She felt so alone and weak, abandoned and unloved. She found it hard to make it through the day, feeling so numb, so worthless.

She hummed softly to fill the silence, trying to calm her pounding heart. She didn't recognise the tune; it might not even be real, it might be something she picked up on the spot. She knew only one thing – it wasn't helping to sooth her nerves. At all.

Her eyes flickered to the cot on the other side of the room, where her baby boy slept peacefully, unaware of his mother's worries. Through the thin material of the cot, Alice could see his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, wishing she could be in his place instead. His name was Harrison, named after his deceased uncle. Everyone said he resembled his mother, but had his father's piercing blue eyes. The parents agreed.

Even in Alice's dreams, everything was chaos. She dreamt repeatedly of losing her loved ones, of being killed, of being tortured to insanity. When she awoke, she would be drenched in cold sweat and shivering like she had just stepped out of an ice bath. She had tried everything; sleeping tablets, sleeping drinks, calming rituals, but none of it worked. The nightmares continued

Alice hugged her legs tighter to her chest. The ticking of the clock was starting to get annoying, and so she hummed louder in a failed attempt to drown it out. There must be less than half-an-hour until the twenty-fifth of December by now, as the moment she dreaded drew ever closer.

Alice had always loved Christmas. Every year for the past two and a half decades of her existence, she had truly loved the occasion. She was known amongst her friends as the one that truly held Christmas Spirit. She was always the one that sung Christmas carols, that dressed in the festive red and green, that went over-board with the decorations. She was always the one who recorded the Christmas specials on TV; the one who loved spending the day in the kitchen, preparing the Christmas feast; she loved watching the kids open the presents; she loved making home-baked mince pies. She definitely put the spirit into Christmas.

Well, usually.

This year, however, she refused to celebrate it. She steered clear of festive clothing, disconnected the TV, hadn't brought a turkey to cook for the next day, hadn't put any presents under the tree. The reason for the change in Alice was simple. Everyone understood, so no one asked questions, for which she was thankful for.

She knew David would have wanted her to enjoy Christmas, but she couldn't do that without him. David was her husband and an ambitious man who loved adventure and was always seeking something new to do. He was brave and spontaneous, always jumping from one dangerous hobby to another. His most recent mission was what had left Alice so shaken and paranoid.

He had gone to war.

Alice was proud of him, indeed, but no amount of pride could destroy the worry and anxiety building inside of her. Thousands of men lost their lives at war each year, and even though David promised her he would be alright, she knew that could change so quickly.

For the past three years of their marriage, she had never spent a Christmas without him, except for this year. At the end of November, David had been accepted into the army and sent off to Afghanistan almost immediately. He promised he would stay safe, that he wouldn't die, that he'd be home for Christmas. Two of those promises had already been broken, and a third could also have been shattered quite easily. War wasn't safe, so that promise was broken the moment he made it; and there were only fifteen precious minutes left until Christmas, with no sign of Alice's husband in sight.

Alice screwed her eyes shut, releasing a shaky breath as she tightened the hold on her legs, pushing them further against her middle as if she was trying to fit into a small box. She wished that David would return from the war alive and well, that she wouldn't have to spend another Christmas alone next year. A single tear appeared at the corner of her left eye, which was still clamped shut. It rolled down her cheek slowly, the ticking of the clock consuming her mind.

Tick, tock … tick, tock … tick, tock. Chime.

She sighed and brushed away the tear.

“Merry Christmas, Alice,” she said dryly, her eyes opening slightly as the corners of her mouth turned up into a humourless smile.

Aren't I just a little ray of sunshine? I promise to actually write a blog tomorrow, instead of just pulling out a story and shoving it in your face ^.^