Just Because...

After all these relatively serious posts, I guess it's time for some humor. So here we go:

Did anyone bother to proofread this ad...?

"Call your doctor right away if after taking LUNESTA you walk, drive, eat, or engage in other activities WHILE ASLEEP." {emphasis added}

So yes, I do tend to make journal entries late at night...

"Thanks to Maria's $20, I discovered that eating 3 and a half donut and 2 ginger snaps will inevitably lead to a headache and stomachache. Amen."

"I knitted, embroidered a square, and cross-stitching. Um, that was quite a sentence."

"Plus my skate guards, one of them broke. Another amazing feat of grammar."

"Though this journal harbors a lot of emotions and feelings...*builds up to some eloquent proclamation*...I must confess that all its ribbons have been pretty darn annoying."

25,682 Words

Nope, didn't make it in time. But, miraculously, I have not been beating myself over the head for it - on the contrary, I'm quite happy that I, one, managed to write 23,000 more words than last attempt; two, got a little more than halfway through; and three, that I wrote 25,000 words in a month (I have NEVER done that before). So, all in all, a very satisfying experience...I'm definitely going to try again next year, though if I've learned anything, it's that having a laptop is very, very, very conducive to getting more writing in.

Not that anyone cares. So I'll be quiet now, and proudly resort to displaying my badge *grins cheekily*.

NaNoWriMo 08 - Excerpt #1

I'm over 17,000 words now...that might sound impressive, but it's not comforting when you consider the fact that to make it to 50,000 words in November, I have approximately 33,000 words to write in a week. *gasps and chokes* BUT anyway...here's the first excerpt, and keep in mind that this is a very rough draft. Through this whole NaNoWrimo thing, I have finally learned how to vanquish the inner editor - that little guy who looks over your shoulder, reads what you've written, and laughs.

So...without him hanging around...here's a bit of what I have so far. Enjoy and comment! :-D


“What are you doing here?” the kitchen supervisor asked her the next morning, in a tone of some genuine surprise.

Tyatsai stopped dead and wondered for a moment if she was still dreaming.

“Didn’t they tell you?” asked the supervisor, waving a few more slaves in.

“Tell me what?” Tyatsai said, truly bewildered.

“You’ve been transferred to the laundry, as of this morning,” the supervisor said. “I would’ve thought they would have told you last evening.”

“I had no idea,” she said, her shock audible. Transferred? “Where – where do I go?”

“Two hallways over to the left,” said the supervisor, and turned to the next slave.

Tyatsai turned away and walked slowly in the direction the supervisor had pointed out, now certain she was still in some sort of nightmare. Steam billowed out of the open doorway and a thick scent of animal lard permeated the air. She made slow progress into the room, her mind still reeling and her feet not fully willing to keep going.

The laundry was huge, at least twice the size of the kitchen. Along the right side were large vats of hot water, the source of most of the steam; shelves stacked with round brushes, cakes of soap, bolts of folded linen, and flat irons lined the left side. Another, smaller courtyard was visible through the door in the back of the room, as were the lines of drying laundry stretched across the landscape. At least fifty slaves had crowded into the room, forming exceptionally straight lines beside the vats or the shelves, and all of them were eerily silent.

The supervisor was making slow progress along one of the lines, looking each slave over once or twice, as Tyatsai stepped slowly into the room. Only the supervisor, a stocky man who was barely Tyatsai’s height, looked up at her awkward entrance. “And you are?” he said, his words echoing around the room.

“Tyatsai Falcons,” she said.

“Oh,” he said, sniffing disinterestedly. “Yes, they told me you were being transferred here. Line up with the rest, along this side. Yes, right there.”

Tyatsai followed the other slaves’ lead and stood almost unnaturally straight, keeping her head facing forward and her arms at her sides. Though their heads didn’t move, a few of the slaves chanced curious glances at her, so she did the same.

The supervisor continued down the line until he reached the slave next to her. He examined him for several long moments, but found nothing out of place and sniffed in a disappointed manner as he moved on to Tyatsai. She tensed immediately as his eyes moved up and down her, focusing particularly on her hair, which she sheepishly remembered that she had done nothing with that morning.

“Hair,” he pointed out, “needs to be neater. Hands need to be cleaner.” He took one last look, then sniffed and turned away. He stood in view of both lines and magnified his voice slightly as he said, “This line to the vats. Half of this line, collect the hanging laundry and fold it. The other half – go and collect the laundry from the officers and the apprentices in the east wing.”

The slaves scattered and immediately began talking amongst themselves. Tyatsai found herself shepherded back out through the laundry doors and down the hallway with the half of the line that had been assigned to collect the soiled laundry, a group of fourteen.

As they walked, Tyatsai noticed that the rest of them seemed to semiconsciously divide themselves into smaller groups that chatted amongst themselves. After a few seconds, only she and a boy no more than eleven were the only ones left without a group. She turned and looked down at him and he looked up at her and gave her a charming smile, one she thought would easily woo his future female when he came to the right age.

“Where did you used to work?” he asked, in a voice deeper than it seemed he should have at his age.

“In the kitchen,” Tyatsai replied.

“Why did you get transferred?”

“I have no idea, honestly,” she said, smiling just slightly at the expression of genuine puzzlement on his face.

“And your name is Tyatsai?” When she assented, his eyes widened a little, and he dropped his voice to a whisper. “You tried to escape, didn’t you?”

His innocent question served to effectively wipe the smile off her face. “Oh,” she said drily, “you heard about that.”

“Well, of course,” he said indignantly. “Everyone heard about it. All of the slaves, I mean.”

“Doesn’t it happen often enough?”

His eyes widened again and he shook his head. “I don’t think anyone’s tried in two or three years,” he said, staring up at her in seeming awe of both her bravery and her ignorance.

“You’re joking,” she said, staring back down at him.

“No, I’m not.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but they had reached the east wing corridor, lined on either side with apprentice dormitories, all empty for the day. Tyatsai and the boy followed the rest of the group into one of the dormitories, which had been crowded with as many bunk beds as would possibly fit, all of which were piled with the apprentices’ luggage and other personal belongings. An oversized, overflowing laundry hamper had been squeezed into the extra few feet next to the door. The stench of sweat was nearly overpowering as two of the slaves lifted the hamper and headed back in the direction of the atrium.

None of the other dormitories were any different. All of the slaves came back for second and some for third trips between the laundry before the east wing was laundry-free. Then they moved on to the south wing and the officers’ quarters, each one of which was the same size as a dormitory. But these were furnished instead with four beds and two wardrobes, and a much less crowded laundry hamper.

It took another half an hour to empty the south wing, and when they got back to the laundry, they were assigned to hang up the clean laundry coming out of the steaming vats.

Tyatsai and the boy each grabbed an armload of laundry and headed out into the courtyard, which was empty of all but the group of fourteen. Lines had already been strung in webs and mazes across the courtyard, and each one was dotted with dozens of crude clothespins.

“I’m Norek, by the way,” said the boy as he hung a pair of white trousers on one of the lines.

“How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been at Gavendal for…” The boy squinted into the sun as he thought. “I’ve been here about seven months, I think.” He looked back at her innocently. “And how long have you been here?”

“A little over a month,” she said. “But I’ve been a slave for about twelve years.”

Norek’s eyes widened again, evoking an unexpected laugh from Tyatsai. “What’s funny?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she said, turning back to the pile of laundry at her feet.

“I don’t think being a slave that long is funny,” he said seriously.

“Well, it’s not.”

“Is that why you tried to escape?”

She glanced sideways at him and he smiled sheepishly.

“I’ve only been a slave for seven months,” he said. “I’ve been at the laundry the whole time. It’s not so bad, really.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not as dull as being in the kitchen, I’ll give you that,” she said.

“What did you do in the kitchen?”

“Scrub floors, wash dishes,” she said, and laughed as he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “And only one person talked to me, and – uh – we didn’t really get along.”

Norek smiled at her. “Well,” he said, in a tone meant to assure that everything was now taken care of, “you have me to talk to now.”

Tyatsai smiled as she hung a shirt on the line.

“I heard something else about you, too,” Norek said after a moment.

“Did you?”

“I heard that you talked back to Enthon at one of the banquets.”

Tyatsai felt her mood darken again. “Two of them, actually,” she said, jerking another shirt from the pile. She was sure his eyes widened at her defiance.

“I think you’re brave,” he said. When she turned around, she found him gazing up at her with deep admiration in his eyes.

“You’re very nice to say so.”

“But it’s true,” he protested.

“Brave and foolish,” she muttered to herself, and to him said, “Maybe so”, and forced another smile.

“My parents were brave like that too,” he said, staring at something beyond the courtyard’s walls. “They never liked being here.”

Tyatsai tried in vain to make out the meaning behind the expression on his face. “Were?” she repeated softly.

“Well, they died a few months after we were brought here,” he said, but there were no tears in his eyes, just deep-seated grief. “But they died because they didn’t let themselves be told what to do.”

They were both silent for a moment, lost in separate thoughts as their hands continued to mechanically hang the dripping laundry on the lines. “My parents died too,” Tyatsai said quietly, “but it was because they gave in, not because they stood up to anything.”

Norek looked up at her, squinting in the sunlight. “You’re not going to give in, are you?” he asked.

She smiled down at him. “No,” she said. “Neither are you.”

#44

Around 11 p.m. last night, Senator Barack Obama was elected the 44th president of the United States. When I stopped watching, the electoral count was 333-156 (though the popular vote was much closer), a huge, though unsurprising, win for the Democrats.



This was a historic presidential race. With a president with dismally low approval ratings having been in office for the last 8 years, with huge economic and foreign policy issues facing the country, and with an African American on one ticket and a woman on the other, there's little doubt that this was the most watched, the most exciting, and the most controversial race in years and for probable years to come.



I will confess that (though I can't vote yet) I supported McCain, enough to wear a McCain sticker all day yesterday. But, surprisingly, I was not hugely disappointed by the news that Obama had won. Strangely, seeing the words "Sen. Barack Obama elected 44th president of the United States" and hearing the crowds scream all across the country was almost exhilarating. Why? Because at the end of Election Day, at the end of every day, we're all Americans. No matter who we voted for yesterday, we can (and must) put our differences aside and remember that united we stand, divided we fail. Life isn't really about partisan preferences or politics, and there comes a time when, somehow, the differences between us suddenly don't seem quite so important.

Barack Obama made history yesterday. He has inspired millions of Americans with his eloquent, well-delivered speeches on change, and he will continue to inspire for the next four years. Do I agree with him on everything? No. Will he make a good president? That remains to be seen. but the point is - similar to the way former New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani put it - no matter who wins each election, American needs to stand behind them. It won't do this country any good if we can't put our differences aside for once and fully support our 44th president, now that we know who he is.

I have another confession to make: I cried all the way through McCain's gracious concession speech. (To put this into perspective, I have never actually cried during any movie.) But I don't think I was crying simply because McCain lost (how lame would that be?!); it was for many reasons.

It was because an African American made history and effectively ended America's infamous era of racial prejudice by becoming our president. It was because of how hard both candidates had worked and how much support Americans had given them. It was because of the crowd in New York City that could put aside their partisan differences and celebrate America's new president, and new beginning, side by side - whether or not he was the candidate they had voted for. It was because after months of campaigning, after months of intense media coverage, scrutiny, and *cough cough* rather obvious bias, the whole thing is finally and very suddenly over (I mean, gee, what is Newsweek going to talk about now?). It was because John McCain, an American hero, had worked so hard on the chance to be president more than once and for several years - but today, he's probably just glad the whole thing's over. it was because after two months of media punches and overwhelming[ly wrong] popular opinion against her, Sarah Palin will suddenly head out of the spotlight and go back to being Alaska's governer, without the title of vice president. And, I think most of all, it was because we are all Americans - diverse, wonderful, crazy Americans who made history yesterday and who will continue to make history every day.

One more thing. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God knows exactly what He's doing. While, to some of us last night, it may not have seemed like it, it's still true. However future president Obama leads America, it's all in God's hands. Knowing that was also part of the emotion tonight. This election just reaffirmed my sometimes-shaky belief that I don't know what tomorrow holds, but I know Who holds tomorrow. And because of that, I can rest totally assured that my past is forgiven and my future is intact - so I can live purely in the here and the now.

Today, the here and the now is the celebration of Barack Obama's election to the presidency. I sincerely wish him all the luck (and the wisdom) in the world. May America bless God and God bless America.

NaNoWriMo 2008

Yes, it's that time of year again: National Novel Writing Month, from November 1-30, in which several thousand brave (translated: crazy) souls attempt to write a 50,000 word novel in a mere 30 days (http://www.nanowrimo.org/). Yes, I am one of them. The few. The proud. But I still think I was completely crazy.

The first and last time I tried this, two years ago, I ended up with a pitiful 2,000 words - the equivalent of about four pages. I decided it was hopeless and didn't even consider it last year. This year, however, I made several over-ambitious New Year's resolutions , one of them being that I would write a full novel in November.

Well, as the year went on, I began to despair of the idea - until suddenly I was reminded of it totally randomly while doing math one day late in October. I dug out the magazine that had given me the inspiration in the first place, read it over, and got inspired to try again.

So this year I decided to completely rewrite an absolutely pitiful fantasy novel I had finished in May 2006. I took out the long journey, incidents with dragons and old wizards, random encounters with mermaids, and villains obsessed with finding treasure. I also felt the need to cut out some humorous sections with the main character, Tyatsai, and her arch-enemy (whom she winds up being a personal slave for near the end) Enthon. They were kind of funny, but kind of tacky in a way, and they no longer really fit into the story. However, I will paste two of them here for your reading enjoyment:

Enthon returned the book to the shelf and sat down. He settled back in his chair, his feet on the table, and poured himself a glass of rum. "Ah-what a day!" he said, sighing in satisfaction. "My fortress is going well, I'll soon have Mount Olivent's treasure under my belt, my least favorite person in the world is my slave...life is good."

Tyatsai couldn't stand him any longer. Dropping the firewood she was carrying, she went over to Enthon and slapped him as hard as she could across the face.

Enthon, in fury and indignation, spit out the sip of rum he had just taken at Tyatsai, who dodge it coolly. It instead splattered onto the brocade window curtains, leaving a large brown stain.

Enthon cast a very ugly look in Tyatsai's direction, closed his eyes, and began to take deep, slow breaths.

"Now what are you doing?" Tyatsai said.

Enthon opened one eye. "These are my breathing exercises. I must commence them when you exasperate me."



And I thought that was worthy of being published?!



Several days after the fight, Enthon was slumped miserably on his throne. Tyatsai was bringing in more firewood when Loule [Enthon's third-in-command] stepped in, and with him, several insects. His nose ring quivered as he saluted. "All is going well on the construction, milord. The wall is almost complete."

Purposely forgetting her place, Tyatsai asked, "What wall?"

Enthon examined his fingernails and spoke to Loule. "You may tell Miss Falcons that some of the slaves are building a wall around a new compound to house consons. They will be trained to fight for us."

Loule looked bewildered as he turned to Tyatsai. "Some of the slaves are building..."

"I'm not deaf," Tyatsai replied coldly. "You can tell Enthon that consons cannot be tamed or trained, that they'll likely tear him to pieces, and that I won't care at all."

Loule turned back to Enthon. "Consons cannot be tamed..."

"I'm not deaf," Enthon interrupted. He glared at Tyatsai but couldn't think of a good reply.

Loule spoke again. "Sir, you have a fly on your head. I shall remove it." He stepped forward, but Tyatsai intercepted him, carrying a piece of firewood.

"I'll get it!" she exclaimed, and brought the wood down heavily onto Enthon's head. Loule's nose ring dropped to the floor.

Enthon flinched slightly but otherwise showed no discomfort or displeasure. "I beg your pardon, Miss Falcons," he said. "You may want to hold your firewood more firmly from now on. It may slip again."

Both Tyatsai and Loule looked confused.



Well, one can only hope that this year's efforts will turn out much better than that. :-) I will occasionally post excerpts as the month goes on, and will look forward to any brutally honest comments you might have on them.