Archive | October 2011

Halloween and NaNo blog preview

So, I’m going to be spending tomorrow and Monday at an old friend’s house for Halloween. I decided to update the blog now, because, well, why the hell not? I have no idea what we’re doing tomorrow other than derping around, but I’m going to be downloading as many horror movies onto my laptop as I can and bring my Marble Hornets┬áDVD if I can find it (I’m still adamant that my parents hid it. Slender Man scares them both.) because she’s easy to scare and I love the feeling of fear. I still haven’t told her that Slender Man isn’t real. :P

On Monday, we’re going to be dressing up to hand out candy and just derp around like most friends do. I don’t know what her outfit is, but I’ve got a mask, a cloak, and a top hat all nice and ready for me. I love my cloak and top hat to damn bits, they’re both nice and snazzy.

I’ve been prepping for NaNoWriMo, which I’ll probably make a post for on Tuesday when I get home. Since I already have an outline and a good idea of the characters (I’ve been working on characterizing them and fixing up my plot for almost two years) I don’t have much to worry about, so I’ve been going to Starbucks every day or two to have a mocha, sit down with my laptop, relax, clear my mind, get some ideas out and practice pumping up my writing speed. When I was in school, I could write six or so pages a day, but I’ve not been as inspired since then so I haven’t been writing that much, so I’ve been trying to get into the groove again.

I’ve not been drawing as much lately, but I’m thinking I’ll be doing a lot more original artwork, or at least sketches, since I’m finally about to get off of my ass and write the first novel of my series, and when I write, I get inspired to at least sketch a bit. Hopefully I’ll be able to update the blog with some artwork soon. It’s not that great, but I know I’m improving day after day and I’m a lot better than I used to be, so I hope it’s enough to satisfy whoever happens upon it.

I think that’s all for now, with a significantly less word count than my last post filed under personal had, and hopefully the next time I update it’ll either be NaNo-related and maybe have some artwork included.

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Crimson

My first attempt at second person, but I hope it’s not *too* bad. Yet another attempt at experimenting with writing styles from last summer. As I said, a first attempt at second person, so don’t bash on me too much if it sucks ass, please? Also, the title is predictable and lame, I know, but I was paying more attention to getting this little experimental paragraph down instead of making a title and I really don’t have any ideas.

A thick, crimson liquid with an intoxicating smell of iron, invading your nostrils and giving a very, very slight taste off into your mouth. You attempt to not give in to the temptation, red as a forbidden fruit, unable to deny that there is a growing, sickening hunger spreading through your stomach as if a disease, desire running through your body as if it were a plague. You know not what to do, albeit knowing what it is you lust for more than anything else in your world. You cringe with your aching need, your body arching, twisting, and trembling with a peculiar sensation. The scent provides you with a guilty arousal, and all hesitation in your mind and heart leaves your thoughts. As you circle your piercing canines with a slick tongue, you cut your eyes and imagine the savory flavor pouring down your throat. You inwardly scoff, taking position. You now know you are a disgusting, horrific creature. Now bite.

The Ten Bells

Just a very short story I wrote months ago, testing out different writing styles, about the Ripper, when I was doing my research on the case. It’s not very good, but I like it enough to post it up here, I guess. I’d like to show my progress to SOMEONE, anyways.

It was yet another normal night of autumn in London, 1888 at a lovely little pub we call The Ten Bells. Whitechapel was filled to the brim with gossip and terror surrounding the horrific murders that had been unsolved since the beginning. You were a very attractive man, clean-cut with fair hair and skin, dressed in a gentleman’s clothing and a top hat. Your eyes filled with good intentions, a smile so sweet it could perhaps sweep anyone, man or woman, off of their feet and into the heavens above us. You took a swig of your drink, swallowing it smooth and steady, as you very joyfully conversed with a woman, beautiful with thick hair as black as the heart of the Ripper himself. She winked an eye, giggling with quite the feminine appeal as she batted thick eyelashes towards you. You winked a clear, richly coloured eye at the harlot whom we knew as Black Mary in response to her pass, crossing your legs as she twirled her hair over a thin, lithe finger. I watched absent-mindedly as you bit your lip, whispering to her in a hushed, excited tone, grinning mischievously as you exited The Ten Bells arm-in-arm. I had heard not the ringing bells of a magnificent church’s cold funeral that night at The Ten Bells, as I should have heard in the depths of my mind, the chambers of my heart. I know not your true name, but I know your face, Jack, and I let you walk into the streets that night with a heart of black.

I really don’t even know what this is for.

Hi. I’m bored.

I get bored a lot. I’ve tried to make blogs countless times to fill up my free time, but they usually get just one or two posts or none at all before I decide it’s silly and give up. In other words, whoever the hell is reading this at whatever point in time, don’t expect me to stick around too long. I won’t be surprised if this is the only post that goes up. Also, I don’t care what anyone refers to me as. I can be Detective Herpinderpin, Officer Herpderp, Banana Derpface, Jimmy, Tina, I really don’t care. I just want to be, rather than be someone.

So.. about me, I guess. I’m planning on writing for a living, currently working on my first real novel. I tend to write fiction, with a touch of poetry when I’m in the mood for it. I also do a lot of visual art, such as sketching, finished traditional pictures, digital paintings, photomanipulation… really, whatever I feel like doing. I love reading. I’ll read just about any genre if it appeals to me, although I tend to lean more towards paranormal fantasy, horror(preferably psychological), mystery, and historical fiction if it’s done in an appealing enough manner. My favourite book, as of the moment, is 1984 by George Orwell, which was recommended to me by a friend on WoW back when I played it.

I don’t watch movies much, mainly because there are never any that are recommended to me, so I never know what to watch, but my favourite movie is currently From Hell. I’ve been interested in Jack the Ripper-based fiction for quite a while now. The case itself and the over one-hundred suspects interest me. Growing up watching the ID channel in most all of my free time, doing a lot of research on serial killers and things of the like, the case really catches my attention. I’ve done loads, and by loads I mean shit-tons, of research on the case, right down to the point to where I know most of the sightings of Mary Kelly after her death, the famous pub that several of the victims were seen in before their deaths, and several of the suspects and theories behind them.

My family thinks that my love of researching brutal crimes and my interest in the psychology of those who commit them is unhealthy. Honestly, I’m just really interested in those types of things. Erzebet Bathory, Mary Bell, any serial killer I can find information on, I’ll research. I find the idea of people actually doing such things horrifying, and as the type of person who enjoys research and finding out as much about things as she can, I like to personally look into things that horrify me, like such. Why do people do it? What pushes them to? How did they do it? What was their reaction to it, emotionally? I just like to know these things–why, what, how…

I’ve currently taken an interest in antiques and every-day nick-nacks. I love music boxes, jewelry that I love having but never wear, figurines, paintings, clocks. My room is an absolute mess of these types of things, specifically my bookshelf, which is not only filled to the brim with books that I still need to read, but jewelry boxes, cup costers, figurines, music boxes, old biblical-based nightlights, snow globes, and.. well, a lot of shit.

My family has two puppies, as of now. After our other dog bit my grandma and got her sent to the hospital, we had to send him to a pit bull shelter, so when my mother’s cousin’s dog had puppies, we got one. My close cousin was unable to keep her’s due to not being able to get permission in time, so we took him, too. They’re sweet dogs, although they piss and shit all over the house at times.

Losing pets is something that’s been troubling me for a long time. We used to have a cocker spaniel. He was short, fat, and his fur always managed to become a knotty mess even when we had it cut, even when we brushed it, no matter what. When I was little, his eye got injured in a fight with another dog when we weren’t there, so it had to be.. removed, I guess? He ended up being one-eyed with stitches on the other. He died about two years ago. I still haven’t quite gotten over it. There were times when I was absolutely miserable and going through a lot emotion-wise, and when my family ignored me and wasn’t there, that dog was. His name was Sparky. I miss him so much.

After he died, when my cousin had her baby, she couldn’t keep her pit bull, Luka, anymore due to restrictions at the only place she was able to live. She was so upset that my parents agreed to take him in. He was a playful dog, very lovable, but for the longest time, I hated him. Eventually, though, he grew on me, too. He was fun to play with, always so affectionate, too. We didn’t have him very long–only about a year–before my grandma came over for the first time when he was here. He didn’t know her, and probably thought she was dangerous or something of the like, and in a manner that was very unlike him, bit her arm and injured it so badly that she had to be sent to the hospital. Although I had just recently started to love him like everyone else, his being taken to the pit bull center took the worst toll on me. I don’t know why.

I don’t know how I’ll take it if the puppies get hurt to any degree. I’ve always had an issue with losing people or animals, after losing so many family members and pets before(I’m not really going to go into much detail since it’s hard to remember any of the other pets that I haven’t mentioned except for one, but we used to have a ton of cats. They all died except one, Sniggles, who died plenty of years ago, so it’s still hard to remember him now), and I’ve already got stress and anxiety issues.

…On a brighter note, I think this blog might help me get my unneeded thoughts out to throw them away and just be able to work on my novel. That’d be nice.

I’m going to just go now. I’m probably going to put up some short stories I wrote during the summer up. By short, I mean, very fucking short, and used as experiments for writing style.