All of the good things that happen to me in a week happen on one day

... Thursday.

I know that no matter how sucky my week gets, if I can just last until Thursday, everything will be fine.

Let's review:

First of all, all the Shonen Jump chapters are scanned and translated on Thursday and usually posted up on onemanga.com by 2 PM. New Bleach and Naruto ~ That alone is something to look forward to. I'm such a nerd. But at least I'm a happy nerd.

That's not all, though. Now, I get new Burn Notice episodes on Thursdays as well! Yay!

But it's this Thursday that I'm looking forward to the most. Because this Thursday one of my absolute favorite bands will be playing here in town and it will be my first time to see them live! Whoooooohoooooooooo!

That normally would have been only a regular "woohoo" but I thought I had lost all hope of ever seeing them live. See, the band was originally called Evans Blue. In 2008, the band split up after deciding that their founding member, vocalist and god-like lyricist Kevin Matisyn, wasn't good enough for their perfect little world. So Matisyn left and the band got a new vocalist, Dan Chandler, who can drive off a cliff for all I care.

Anyway, after that, Matisyn started a new band, Parabelle, and picked up where he left off, maintaining all the rights to his old songs. When I found out about Parabelle, I had a scream-and-dance marathon. I was so happy. And now they're gonna be in my town!

I'm so happy.

So... so... happy.

If they play Eclipsed, I think I'll die right there, perfectly content.

It's stupid to be so excited about a movie that I know is gonna suck hardcore

... But I can't help it.

Ever since I found out they're making an American Death Note movie (theater release in 2011!), I've been floating on air. That was three months-ish ago and I'm STILL that happy. It really makes no sense because I know without a shadow of a doubt that it's going to be so epically terrible, it will deserve an award. How could it be good? They're taking one of the most beautiful and twisted Japanese manga and Americanizing it when even the Japanese failed to do it justice in both anime and live-action movies (who changes the end?!?! I mean, really.). It's a recipe for disaster. But I'm still giddy as a schoolgirl who just got her first kiss.

It's the curse of the superfan.

I have to admit, I wasn't truly excited about it until I found out they're only making the movie out of the first three tankobon (although that may be a rumor--it's all up in the air right now). Taking only a few volumes to work with and making it a series will allow for better cohesion in following the actual story, instead of like the Japanese version which ripped out half of the essential characters (Mello~! *tear*). So part of me -- a very, very small stupid part -- actually has hope for it.

Or, at least, has hope as long as Zac Efron isn't cast as Light Yagami, the protagonist.

ZAC EFRON?!?!?! WTF?!?! His pretty boy face could never pull off Light's evil look.

<-----

It's just not physically possible.

When it lands on its ass in a fiery blaze of shame, I can at least say I predicted it. Hopefully, seeing it on American shores will at least make Americans curious enough to pick up the tankobon (or click the link I have conveniently posted on the right side of the page) and read it for themselves. Only then will they truly be able to appreciate the intricate sadistic chess game that is Death Note.

I'll just throw my popcorn at the screen and scream like a lunatic at every little mistake.

It will give me great pleasure.

I wish I had green eyes so they'd match my jealousy

First of all, I just read my last blog post and laughed. I put it on the wrong blog. Whoops! That should've gone on my poetry blog. My bad. Too late, I'm not moving it, but I thought I'd point that out.

Being an artist, I think I tend to succomb to jealousy more easily than most other people. It's so much more than just having someone ahead of me at the office. I can't really see mathletes getting jealous of who solved the equasion since there's only one answer and they should both be able to achieve the same one. But when you're an artist, there's always someone better than you and it's so friggin' frustrating.

Music is my soul. It's everything I am. If I weren't so clumsy and have a tendency to bleed a lot, I'd believe I had do-ray-mi in my veins instead of blood. So, naturally, I play several instruments. Guitar, bass, and drums -- bass is my love though. However, it seems that no matter how hard I practice and how good I get, there's always someone better. Just when I start to become proud of my accomplishments, I hear someone play something that's way out of my league. Then I get frustrated and won't even try for months on end.

I don't think it would be so bad except my best friend in high school was one of those annoying people who could pick up any instrument and learn it with agonizing speed. Even though he started playing guitar three years after I had, he surpassed me in a few months. I couldn't even play with him because I couldn't follow. I always wanted to yank the strings off the guitar and strangle him with them. I had never before been around someone I loved so much and yet hated so desperately. Since then, I never play with anyone. I can't. I feel inferior and always want to cry. And nothing makes me cry.

Music isn't the only problem I have, though. I struggle with the same thing in my drawing. I practice a lot and always think I'm doing pretty well and coming along nicely until I see something my brother has drawn. He can see depth and shadows and angles that I cannot even comprehend. When my brother was four, he almost failed kindergarten because he wanted to sketch instead of color. This is even worse than having a genius best friend--I have to LIVE with this one. I have to see my artwork side-by-side with his and hate myself for the difference. I'm ok with occasionally posting little goofy cartoons on facebook or whatever, but I'd never post my more serious artwork. I loathe it for its incompetence and inferiority.

Now, despite all that, everyone says my claim to fame is writing. People tell me all the time that they wish they could write like me, or that they love my writing, or that it's vivid and descriptive. But I don't see it. Even my technique is flawed. I start sentences with "and," "but," and other conjunctions; I end sentences with prepositions; and I always feel like my writing is flat and choppy. Like there's no emotion in it at all, even though I try so hard to inject it. My mother, on the other hand, is brilliant. If I'm good, she's beyond amazing. So even the one thing that I'm supposed to be great at, I still live in the shadow of my mother.

I've just come to realize that no matter how much I love something, or how good I think I am, there's always someone better. They make it impossible for me to truly enjoy the few things in life that should give me comfort and pleasure. I'll never be able to succeed as a musician, a mangaka, or an author simply because I know I'm not the best.

If I had confidence in my art, I might be able to fool people.

But I can't even fool myself.

Dark sunny day

Today, the sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and the birds were singing. It was a lovely, beautiful day for me to walk around with a black fog surrounding me, killing plants and making small children cry with my every step.

For today, despite all the radiance of the West Texas sky, I was surrounded by my own darkness.

I get this way when frustration and insignificance overwhelm me. When things I've tried to bury stick their bony hands out of their graves and grasp my ankles, trying to pull me under. I've been doing a fairly good job of keeping my smiling mask fastened to my face, but on days like this, it begins to slip.

I see what I want. What I desire. And I see how far away and impossible to obtain it is.

I walk around in life with a target taped to my back. Murphy's Law is my karma. A god that ruined me.

The idea of my dreams rather than my dreams themselves stab me in the chest with an icy knife and I fall into myself, already half dead.

It's all so far away, I can't even see it.

So today, I just felt like crawling under my bed and hiding in the dark for awhile. It's about the darkest place I can find.

Unfortunately, I don't fit anymore.

Hide me, darkness, dammit. But in a white room, where is a dark corner?

Now this icy, black fog is spreading to you. Run while you still can. I'll hide here now...

My amazing powers

I have been given incredible mental abilities. I don't mean smarts (although I do think I have a lot of common sense), I mean actual mental abilities.

No, I'm not a psychic (I don't think), but I do have a sort of aura shield around me that lets me detect the presence of other people within that aura. I've pretty much figured out that it extends six feet in front of me within my peripheral vision and about three feet in my blind spots. This ability has come in handy many times over, considering I am rarely surprised by anyone doing a hide-and-go-jump-scare routine.

I only wonder if there's a way for me to hone my abilities further. I can't tell WHO is behind me (which almost proved profitable to a potential pickpocket I thought was my brother) and the three foot radius is a little shallow. Not very good for advanced warning. I keep thinking there must be a way for me to practice and further my talents? I guess I'll have to see.

In addition to my detection, I'm able to read sharp thoughts. I can't read MINDS, but I can get the general idea of what someone is thinking at any given moment. And if someone thinks something "at" me, I can usually read it. Sometimes my brother will stare at me and think something really hard and I'll know exactly what he was thinking. I wonder if I'll be able to read minds if I practice...?

Hah.

I wish.

Regardless, I like the idea of having underdeveloped super powers.

If only I could fly...

Uncertainty about publishers

I've written a book. It's a beautiful story that came to me in a nightmare (Thank you, Rollin! -- my dream muse). Everyone who's read it has given me sparkling reviews.

But I am scared to try and get it published.

It's fact that 95% of writers get their work rejected. And this story means so much to me that seeing it rejected would be like someone stabbing and killing my own child. All my writing is like that. It's MINE. Mine and Soren's or Rollin's.

Or worse, a publisher COULD take it. Then they'd strip it and change it. It'd be like RAPING my child. That's even worse.

And don't even get me started on movie rights.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah I don't know what to do~! I want to finish raising (editing) my child and send it off into the world to fulfill it's destiny. But what if it gets hurt? What if it gets violated? WHAT IF NO ONE LIKES IT?!?!?! Eeeeeee!!!

My poor baby. I can't keep it bundled up safe and snug in a document folder forever. It has to learn to fly on it's own!

No! No! I can't... I can't let go!

...

...

...

My baby...



P.S. Soren and Rollin are really terrible fathers. Conception is all they're good for. *gets no child support*

Soren is relentless

Soren is my raven muse. Normally, he's pretty lazy, lounging around claiming to help me think of ideas. I beg him to help me get out of my writer's block, but he's usually just got a snappy comeback. I only work with him because when he DOES think of something, it's usually genius, so occasionally it's worth it. Almost every day, I'd sit down to write and he'd give me nothing.

But not today.

For the past week, he's been zooming around, pecking me incessantly in the head.

Why did he have to get a good idea NOW? NOW when I can't pull my writing off my old computer? NOW when I have no writing program on my new computer? NOW you get a good idea, Soren? NOW? Seriously?!?!

And quit telling me you're gonna forget it if I don't start writing it down. I know that better than anyone.

I guess I should break out the old notebook and write by hand. I'll feel like a cavewoman.

Nah, maybe this'll teach him a lesson. You know, not to come up with awesome ideas only when it's convenient to HIM. I am his master, after all. Or, at least, I tell myself that.

I'm not crazy. I promise.

Insomniac spirits or just funky floating dust mites?

While poking around on one of my favorite Facebook fan pages-- "Creepy, Old, Abandoned Houses"-- I jumped in on a discussion about having expeditions to explore some of those hauntingly beautiful ruins with the joke that I'd love to go if there were ghosts. Someone else mentioned a great ruin known as the Baker Hotel in Mineral Wells, TX, just outside of the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. Curious and always loving a lovely ghost story, I looked it up on the Southwest Ghost Hunters Association's website (which is very interesting since they post the history of the location, all the legends, their own paranormal investigations, and whether or not a "true haunting" is likely or mythbusted.). Whether you believe in ghosts or not, the story is fascinating. But it got me thinking beyond that.

We know there's Heaven and Hell for sure. But the period between our death and going to one of those two places is a mystery. The Bible never really makes any clear statement about exactly what happens. For example, in 1 Samuel 15, Saul visits a witch to seek council from the departed Samuel. When the spirit of Samuel rises from the ground, he says "Why have you disturbed my rest?" This in conjunction with verses in the New Testament (Revelation, specifically) would lead one to believe that from the time we die until the time Christ calls the believers to be with Him in the clouds, our spirits will sleep. This is further referenced when it is said in 1 Thessalonians 4:16 that "For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first." There are also mentions of spirits of the departed roaming the earth before the second coming. All this would make you believe that death is merely a sleep until that day.

On the other hand, in Luke 23:43, Jesus tells the robber to his right that he is forgiven and that "today, you will be with Me in Paradise." I know the Bible will never contradict itself--we simply do not understand. But this passage when put in context with the others is confusing. I wish I had a pastor to explain it to me.

BUT! on to the original subject: Spirits. We know they exist--there's one in each of us, and, if saved, we have also the Holy Spirit dwelling within us. If death is merely a sleep until the end of days, couldn't, logically, there be restless spirits who have post-mortem insomnia? After seeing the SGHA's supposed "photos" of what might be spiritual energy-- "orbs" they call them, invisible to the naked eye, honestly admitting that they could be nothing more than dust particles enhanced by fancy cameras-- I don't necessarily believe that these hypothetical ghosts could be seen. There are only a few examples in the Bible where it refers to spirits walking visibly among us. That must mean it's a rare happening. It, however, doesn't mean that insomniac spirits DON'T walk among us. They just can't be seen. Or, at least, can't be seen by normal people.

I'm not suggesting you grab a candle and hold a seance by any means. Only the spirits of the living, which we know are among us, are of our concern. It is, however, interesting for me to think about others slipping around us unseen.

I think too much.

I will also probably be musing a lot about spirits, myself and others', in coming posts as they interest me profoundly.

Vampires, chicks with no self, manga, and me

After reading the Twilight saga, I swore I'd never suffer through another vampire story again. It wasn't the sparkling skin, the obsessive stalking, or even the horrid acting that pushed me over the edge -- it wasn't even Bella's whiney, pathetic, dependent attitude. It's the way girls all over the world have come to believe that Edward and Bella have the ideal romance. I've seen sparkly-eyed fangirls coo "It's not stalking, he's just protective!" or "it's so romantic that she would try to kill herself just to see his face!" I could mention countless other hopeless scenarios, but you get the picture.

Jacob wasn't perfect either, but he was at least someone Bella could talk to and be herself with. I always hope someone's gonna write a Twilight parody sequel to Breaking Dawn about when, after 200 years, Bella wakes up and realizes there's no excitement in her marriage anymore and figures out that she and Edward have nothing to talk about. That's what's going to happen to girls everywhere who think they find their Edward: they'll get married for the passion, then down the road realize that that passion faded and they have nothing holding them to that person.

Well, the entire purpose of this thought was not necessarily to rant on Twilight. I can just beam the hate I feel toward it out of the screen and you'll get the picture. The point is, I'm really actually pretty angry at myself. I'm a manga nerd. There. I said it. Now that that's out of the way, I can also admit to breaking the swear I swore to myself.

I have been bored to tears ever since I moved and couldn't find a job. Even now, my job won't start til February. So what do you think I've had time to do in the six months I've been in limbo? I've read. I've read alot. I've read just about everything interesting I could get my hands on. That includes an extensive list of manga scans. But even with a thousand available manga at my disposal, I've still run through everything I ever wanted to read.

So I got desperate.

I began reading Vampire Knight.

I will admit it's better than Twilight and I think all the little fangirls would be better off reading it than Twilight, but I've noticed a common theme: What IS it with vampires that creates the need for a sex-slave instead of a real, true partner? I mean, are they not capable of finding someone who doesn't swoon like a retarded puppy who just ran head-first into a wall? The only thing that separates Twilight from Vampire Knight is that Yuuki actually has a personality and can -- and will -- fight for herself, unlike Bella who would rather just whimper.

There are just not enough strong female characters in what would be considered "popular" American literature. There are plenty of authors who get it right, but mobs of girls choose to desire Bella's persona instead of someone who can stand up for herself. The scariest thing is that these girls WANT to be stalked and cooed over as though they're toddlers. They want to be taken care of and not have any responsibility. But all they're gonna end up with is disappointment.

I don't understand it at all.

Whatever happened to Buffy? I think she should stake them all and show them what women really can do.

Burn

It was the title of the book I finished reading, by my favorite author Ted Dekker. So this is your official

***********SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!***************

The above spoiler warning officially releases me from any flaming and/or wailing relating to me revealing the plot twist of this most recent and genius book, as reading forward is completely at your discretion. And if you've reached the end of this disclaimer and still don't want to have the plot spoiled, you probably are just looking for an excuse to whine.


Anyway, besides being a fantastic book worthy of the Dekker empire, Burn brought forth some uncomfortable revelations about myself.

Since this isn't a book review, I'm not gonna talk about the entire plot just for it to make sense. If you care that much, stop reading this and read the book. I guarantee it's better. But anyway, in the first part of the book, the protagonist Janeal Mikkado is given a choice: Attempt to save her best friend from being burned alive, in which case they will almost certainly both die; or escape with a million dollars, definitely survive, and build the life she always wanted for herself.

When faced with a difficult choice, we are never given the chance to see where the path we chose not to walk would have taken us. You will never know exactly how your life could have been different if you had taken the other road. Janeal, however, is given that miraculous opportunity.

There are two chambers in every heart: One for John and one for Judas. Everyone is capable of the same sin, but it's our choices that make us one or the other. So, when faced with the choices presented, Janeal is split into the John and Judas of her heart. The Judas immediately flees the fire and becomes a successful, powerful businesswoman; the John rushes into the fire and is severely burned beyond recognition, though survives (though her best friend does not) and builds a life of servitude and selflessness.

Fifteen years passed before the two fractions of Janeal's heart learned of each other. The bitter, guarded Judas utterly loathes the John for it's peace and happiness. In it's fury, it attempts to kill the John. To flush out and destroy the part of itself it considers weak.

Fortunately, Janeal, as well as the rest of us, is given a second chance. She finds the John side of her is stronger than the Judas. This time, John escapes while Judas is burned in the flames.

Most of me is the Judas. I have left my John to burn in the flames, not once, but many times. My heart is Judas inclined. However, we are called to burn the selfish side of us in unquenchable fire.

"His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire." Matthew 3:12

I'm not ready yet to pull my wheat out of the flames. The darkness right now is my greatest comfort when I need to hide. But I become ever more aware of the good part of me that is burning away. I don't want to wait too long for fear it will be reduced to ash.

2nd Pandora's Box

OPEN IT!!!

No, seriously. You know you want to.


Everyone knows the story of Pandora, the girl in Greek myth who opened the forbidden box and released evil into the world. Though Pandora herself was myth, there was a Pandora who really existed in history. Her name was Eve, the first woman.

Deceived by the serpent, she ate of the Forbidden Fruit and disobeyed God, being the first to sin. Then she convinced her husband Adam to do the same, passing on sin to him and the rest of the human population.

I consider myself the second Pandora. A rebellious, dark, bitter, and ill-intentioned human being, and yet still loved by God.

I'm not the kind to journal my life, because I'm not fond of everyone knowing my business. I do, however, intend to use this for whatever musings, dark or light, which swirl around in the malevolent maelstrom that is my mind-- the Second Pandora's Box.