So this isn't really family memories so much as just a memory that I have. Retrospective introspection (oooh fancy language.) I was watching Project Life Size and of course was inspired to do a entry, as I always am. I kinda want to see if I can do video entries. I don't know why I wouldn't be able to, host them to you tube or something. SIDE TRACKED SORRY.
Anyway, on PLS they were talking about their childhood heros and one of the girls said that they wished that they had magical powers when they were a kid. I think we all did to an extent, and still do to an extent as well. I was a MEGA anime/cartoon kid. My first obsession was Card Captor Sakura. I remember wishing to be in that universe, and it was because of that show that I had one of the few dreams that I remember from childhood. I still kinda do wish I was in that universe with the Clow cards. I remember wanting to use the create to make an amazing house for my mother and father to live in.
It still...alarms me that I was such a selfless child. We all were. When I think about being a parent some day I always get a feeling of nervousness. How can I be remotely as good of a parent as my parents were. Will I remember all the things I want to tell them when I actually have my children all those years away? Morals, right and wrong, will they like what I like? Will I embarrass them? Am I going to be as tolerant as I dream I'll be?
When I think about my childhood I am always struck with how awesome of a job my parents did. I have so much love and gratitude for them. Even now, when I start getting nostalgic for those simpler days with some bitterness attached from current situations. I remember who my parents made me and I can't get mad at them for very long.
I think I made my parents into superheros. More than human, perfect, they have the answer for everything and never made mistakes. I don't know if it's my age perspective that has shattered that role I made for them or if my parents just changed. Maybe my mother is lost somewhere between my 16 year old self and my 20 year old self now. I want to go back and find her, hold her hand and bring her back with me.
Is it my place to "correct" my mother into who I think she should be? Or is this who she is supposed to be all along and I just have to get over myself and see my mother as who she has grown into.
-K
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
As Ty and I are both writers - you may think that we've written all kinds of things together. Well it's actually quite the opposite. While we do have some input and take each other's advice, we've never actually written anything together.
I don't know whether to chalk that up to different styles or just the arrogance of teenagers. Maybe it's just that both of us felt too personal about our writing as was scared to reveal some deeper part of ourselves to the other.
The idea has always floated in my head, how would Tyronos and my own writing style mesh together in one plot? Well - we're going to find out it seems. As of yesterday the first stages of a story written by myself and Tyronos.
It's going to be a gangster story using the Metallica album "Death Magnetic" as a background for each chapter. So 10 chapters in total. Nothing long but we decided since we both have other projects and such shorter would be better.
If everything works out we'll do something longer next. For now here is the first page of chapter one.
“Is there anything that you couldn’t live in a place without?”
“What?”
“Like, could you live in a place without trees? Or grass?”
“Yes.”
“I couldn’t live in a place without the sky.”
With a heavy heart he looked to the sky after coming out of his memory. The sky was impossibly dirty, smog, lights, used breaths. She could not live here, not happily. Never happily. For the first time in a long time, his heart actually ached. He laughed - so he was human after all. Nostalgia he was used to, especially in these days of war and sacrifice. Only once did he ever try to become immune to the feelings, and he was content to return to his current state. Humans were meant to feel, to hate, to fear and to sorrow. In his head the sounds of his past sang together and his emotions danced to the tune of his life choices. Like sirens, never ending sirens like those of the city he lived in now.
“Realize you don’t belong?” Came the taunting voice of the man beside him.
“As much as we would both enjoy it.” He replied. “I belong here.”
“Belong? We might all be so lucky, to know where we belong.” Asked the man, he laid down on the concrete ledge that divided the two and the street two stories below.
“I hate it when you’re philosophical Ray.” Sighing, the man lent against the ledge and looked below at the street. Full of people, full of nothing.
“Whatev Elijah - you love me.” Ray said laying on his back. “Sky is nice tonight.”
He looked down still and even after the horrifically familiar bang echoed around him he could still only look down. Ray, the corpse of Ray fell down towards those full of nothing streets. The sky that was already too full gained a few more used breaths as it gathered the screams. Hand on his glock he turned, morning his friend the only way he could. By making others morn. The attacked had his mouth open - no doubt to say a taunt. He had no chance as his face was removed from his body. Elijah’s face was blank as he lowered his gun and watched the corpse fall. He turned and looked over the concrete ledge again
I don't know whether to chalk that up to different styles or just the arrogance of teenagers. Maybe it's just that both of us felt too personal about our writing as was scared to reveal some deeper part of ourselves to the other.
The idea has always floated in my head, how would Tyronos and my own writing style mesh together in one plot? Well - we're going to find out it seems. As of yesterday the first stages of a story written by myself and Tyronos.
It's going to be a gangster story using the Metallica album "Death Magnetic" as a background for each chapter. So 10 chapters in total. Nothing long but we decided since we both have other projects and such shorter would be better.
If everything works out we'll do something longer next. For now here is the first page of chapter one.
~*~
“Like a siren in my head that always threatens to repeat”
Chapter One
Kazila
“Is there anything that you couldn’t live in a place without?”
“What?”
“Like, could you live in a place without trees? Or grass?”
“Yes.”
“I couldn’t live in a place without the sky.”
With a heavy heart he looked to the sky after coming out of his memory. The sky was impossibly dirty, smog, lights, used breaths. She could not live here, not happily. Never happily. For the first time in a long time, his heart actually ached. He laughed - so he was human after all. Nostalgia he was used to, especially in these days of war and sacrifice. Only once did he ever try to become immune to the feelings, and he was content to return to his current state. Humans were meant to feel, to hate, to fear and to sorrow. In his head the sounds of his past sang together and his emotions danced to the tune of his life choices. Like sirens, never ending sirens like those of the city he lived in now.
“Realize you don’t belong?” Came the taunting voice of the man beside him.
“As much as we would both enjoy it.” He replied. “I belong here.”
“Belong? We might all be so lucky, to know where we belong.” Asked the man, he laid down on the concrete ledge that divided the two and the street two stories below.
“I hate it when you’re philosophical Ray.” Sighing, the man lent against the ledge and looked below at the street. Full of people, full of nothing.
“Whatev Elijah - you love me.” Ray said laying on his back. “Sky is nice tonight.”
He looked down still and even after the horrifically familiar bang echoed around him he could still only look down. Ray, the corpse of Ray fell down towards those full of nothing streets. The sky that was already too full gained a few more used breaths as it gathered the screams. Hand on his glock he turned, morning his friend the only way he could. By making others morn. The attacked had his mouth open - no doubt to say a taunt. He had no chance as his face was removed from his body. Elijah’s face was blank as he lowered his gun and watched the corpse fall. He turned and looked over the concrete ledge again
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