My Thanksgiving Gift to You (Yes, You) Part II

November 25th, 2010

12:30 pm, Eastern Standard Time.

Still Thanksgiving, so it's Thursday.

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This isn't so much a post where I write about me; it's a post for my writing.

Invictus

They decided to execute me at sunset, which left me feeling slightly disappointed. Watching the chariot of Apollo emerge on the horizon each morning and disappear at night, leaving the world immersed in blackness, was among my favorite pastimes. But at the same time, the news caused my heart to leap with joy. My last sight was not to be the faces of the spectators, jubilant at my pain and misery; it could be the sky, streaked with bright reds and deep oranges and traces of purple. And in that, I knew, I could forget my pain and be able to go out of this world adamant in my resolve. I would bow to the Emperor no longer, not even on the verge of death, as he so hoped I would.

The world of Rome is a cruel one, strict in its regime of order. Already I can hear the jeers of the crowds in my mind, waiting for the moment when death leers over me, ready to rid me of all life. But now is not the time to back down in fear. Now is not the time to fail my father and the gods of Olympus. I had given all I had to carry out their wishes, but for the cause, the loss of my own life seemed necessary as well. For Rome, I would do anything. And if my countrymen needed my death to further the cause, to achieve the goal set to me by the gods, and to restore honor, glory, and greatness to Rome, who was I to deny them?

To the people I am either one thing or the opposite: their leader, soon to be their martyr, a man they would die for themselves, or a traitor, the bane of the empire's existence, a nuisance who brought only disorder, panic, and riots to Rome. To myself, though . . . to myself I am simply the man who has tried--the man who tried to fix Rome, to do what the gods wanted done, and, eventually, the man who failed.

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Entirely unedited, but I adore it. It's my new baby. :D

--Ave, quite happy

My Thanksgiving Gift to You (Yes, You) Part I

November 25th, 2010

11:02 pm, Eastern Standard Time.

On a Thursday morning.

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I won NaNo. :D

Really, I won NaNo on Saturday, twenty days in, after writing over ten thousand in a single day. So, I am happy.

Today's Thanksgiving, and the thirteenth time I celebrate this strange, strange holiday. But of course, the focus of Thanksgiving is eating (seriously) and it's too early for that. Even apps don't start until at least one, then we have dinner at two-thirty or three, and pie at six, then everyone just scavenges until they go home. We switch off between my aunt's family and mine for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and this year it's their turn for Thanksgiving and ours for Christmas, which is how I like it best--in my mind, Thanksgiving and my aunt's house have a link that I shall never get rid of, for reasons unknown. So I'm at home with nothing to do for say, an hour.

So I thought I'd update this.

A BRIEF SYNOPSIS OF AVE'S LIFE OVER THE PAST MONTH OR SO THAT SHE'S BEEN NEGLECTING UPDATING HER BLOG, ENTIRELY UNCENSORED AND WITH NO REGARD TO WHOSE FEELINGS SHE MIGHT HURT OR EGOS SHE MAY BOOST BY WRITING THIS

Lately, I've been writing a lot of rants--deciding a lot of things and then immediately beginning to question those decisions. The focal point of all these rants turns out to be one thing, a thing I don't particularly want to talk about to the world but will because, for once, I'm going to get it all off my chest. That point is Thorn, my former best friend, and I feel that the best way to describe this is Rant VII, written in English class a few weeks back It's not nearly as bitchy as so many of the other rants are, and it gets it across. And it was originally addressed as if I was going to send it to my online friends as a whole.

Cue Rant VII

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I don't like this--any of it, there's this strange sense of foreboding about . . . everything. Nothing is sure, nothing is rock solid, and all is subject to change in a second, and that scares me. But what none of you seem to get is how much it all gets to me, and how much it bothers me, and how what you do or say or think or how you act could affect me and how I might end up feeling over all of this. God, couldn't you at least learn some tact? I don't care how selfish it sounds, or what you think of me, because the truth is that I honestly believe you should have thought about all of that before you went along skipping on your merry way and singing praises to the skies that she had returned. Dammit, it freaking hurts, okay? It hurts when you used to be best friends with someone and then you're not and everyone won't just shut the hell up about her. It hurts, dammit. You're just putting salt on the wound--no, you're pouring salt on it.

I know what you all want, and honestly, I don't see how it corresponds with what I want, what I need if I ever feel like remaining legally sane. You all want us to be best friends again, and you all think it's so damn easy to just do that--but it's not. I'm a prideful person, and I know that. I never said that I wasn't. I don't apologize unless I sure as hell know that I mean that apology, and that's why I haven't. I don't know if I'd mean it, I don't know if I want to be her best friend again. And even if I was, think about it, just think about it: How would it effect today's dynamic? Everything is different now, and that can't be denied.

I don't know a lot of things about this whole ordeal, so I'm just going to keep adding to that list until you can figure out how freaking indecisive I am over this and maybe you'll see all the grief behind it. I don't know if I even want to be her friend, and I don't know if I think any of this is good or bad, and I don't know what I want. What I do know is that change screws everything up, and I also know that talking to her also scares me. I also know one key thing:

I am not that girl who came on forums last April/May anymore. I'm a different sort of person, because I know more about the world now. I don't try to fool myself with fantasies like I used to: The only things I bother to dream of are things I know are achievable, if I work for it. And I don't entertain myself with things that are a waste of time, or at least I try not to. I've been out of sorts and I'll admit it--I'm sort of a different person, but I've maintained the fundamental bits that make up me. And new _____ is not the same as old _____. And, for reasons unknown, new ______ finds everything she does increasingly annoying to the point of wanting to roll her eyes and stab a pillow, but refrains from the latter. And dammit, I never saw her anyways. She was fine ignoring me, and frankly neither of us attempted to stay in contact.

It was over and done with before the day we fought, guys. I knew that, and I don't know if she did, but I did. And the first day, I was happy with it--the whole situation had been making me miserable since July. The first day, I was a bit shellshocked, but at the same time, it was over with, finally. But of course, none of you ever let it die, you insisted on talking about her and sobbing and going, "THORN'S GONE?!" and similar shit while I was right there, dammit. And no one bothered to think: Oh, Ave's just lost her best friend. Maybe talking about said best friend will not help the situation. Seemingly, that occured to no one.

I can't blame it all on you, and I know it. I know I was mad at you, and that I'm still kind of mad at you, but I can't stay mad at you--I do love you all like sisters. And so I don't care so much about everything that bothered me before; you know, how you always grouped me with her incessantly and never could realize that we're two separate, entirely different people who only seem similar at first. And that's a big factor too--we seemed so similar at first, but we're not. We really don't look that alike either. We're not the same person, nowhere near it, and it seemed like no one ever realized that.

But what you need to realize is that, until I know for sure that what I want is to be her friend and figure out what will happen from all of this and if this is what I truly and actually want, and then see how it's going to affect what I have now. Because, honestly, if being her friend gets in the way of something else that I already have, something that's currently not messed up, I'm not messing it up for her. I'm sorry, but it's not worth messing up something whole for something jaded, complicated, and subject to extreme change.

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It ends there, as does this blog post.

--Ave

Update

Orite I have a blog.

Actually, I didn't really forget about this thing.

Instead, I have been overwhelmed by public enemy number one, or what should be (after Sidney Crosby) public enemy number one: NaNoWriMo.

It's not difficult so much as time consuming.

*an hour elapses*

Anyways. I spent forever writing NaNo and so don't get to finish this correctly.

But I hit 20K. *celebrates* And my overall goal is to get 75K, which may not happen, but I'll definitely get the 50K.

--Ave, thinking of nothing but NaNo

Overwhelmed

I have a lot to do.

I do not like having a lot to do.

NaNo's a bitch. And if I have to draw one more Freytag's Triangle, I swear I will hunt down whoever the hell Freytag is and kill him. Or her, but most likely him.

There's a lot of planning I should have done a long time ago.

Did this make any sense? I'll answer that. No. No it did not. But I have no time to rant. And this is just as jumbled as my thoughts right now, so it's fitting. Now I have to plan more.

--Ave

Worry

October 23, 2010

Six pm.

On a Saturday night. (Shall I sing the song again?)

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Lately, I keep pondering my future. See, everyone online keeps freaking out over what high school they're going to and applications and "OH THIS SCHOOL IS SO GOOD I HAVE TO HAVE TO HAVE TO GET IN." And I sit in my corner going, "STFU, will you?"

See, I am a perfectionist, plain and simple. Most of what I care about is being the best at everything I do, and a main part of that is academics. And so as everyone talks about how great these schools they're trying to get into are, all I can think of is: I don't even have that chance. I'm going to public school. I've always known that I'm going to public school. I can't even try to get in there. I can't even try.

See, to me, there were always those private schools I heard about and my neighbors went to, but it didn't matter--I had my school and they had theirs and they were basically the same. When I got older I realized there was a difference, though: they paid to go to that school instead of my school, only my school still did better on tests. And so my school was the better one, which made me content. Only now, I see that while my school is good and offers me all these opportunities in career exploration, it's not the best. My school is a public school, one you don't have to apply to--you live in the correct area, and you can go there. And so, we can't afford to have the most prestigious classes that are all uber-advanced, because we need to pay to teach the less-advanced classes to other kids.

Don't get me wrong; we have advanced classes, we do good on tests, it's a really good school. But it gets beaten out by all these other places. Even though I may be a year ahead in math and two years ahead in science, when I graduate I can still only have one college level math and one college level science course under my belt. And that's all I can achieve.

This all comes down to one thing: my dream to be a Rhodes Scholar.

See, Rhodes Scholars are postgraduate students selected via application to go study at Oxford for two years. They also have to be the best of the best, nothing less, and charismatic, and great leaders, et cetera.

Rhodes Scholars can also get basically any job they want.

Scholars were originally accepted from all current and previous British colonies and Germany. So, essentially, all English speaking countries and Germany. Nowadays, 32 Americans a year are accepted to go study at Oxford, the greatest number from any country.

And so, now my plans for the future are to graduate, get accepted into either 1) University of Toronto, 2) NYU, 3) Princeton, 4) Yale, or 5) Harvard. And if I get accepted into more than one (which I hopefully will . . .), then I pick whichever one best coincides with my plans to go into chemical engineering. Then, the plan says that I graduate from whichever university I pick, and apply to be a Rhodes Scholar. If all goes right enough, I'll get accepted, continue studying engineering at Oxford, and live happily ever after being able to get virtually whatever occupation I desire, which will once more include chemical enginnering. Probably.

See, I'm still not sure why exactly I want to go into chemical engineering; I just know that I do. This obsession came about recently, when I remembered how my mom said she always thought I'd go into engineering, because she thought I was cut out for it. Which I could very well be; I'm good in math and science. And there's a future in engineering. So I decided that's what I'm going to be. I'll probably change it. Either way, I'm going into a career in science. Why?

Because science and business are where all the successful people are. And I want to be successful. Because if I' successful, then I can have more time to work on what I really want to work on. My writing.

You may ask, Well, then, why don't you just go straight into a career in writing? Unfortunately, the life of the writer is one full of hardships until you actually become successful, and I'd rather not have to go through that. Thus, the alternate road. *points down road*

I think we're done with this now.

Magically, I managed to write this entire thing while cooking dinner.

Watch my dinner taste like crap, and then me eat it anyways because I don't feel like cooking anymore.

--Ave, off to eat dinner and work on NaNo and write

The Effects of Sleep Deprivation

October 17th, 2010

6 pm on a Sunday night.

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Seeing the words "Sunday night" makes me think of "Someday I'll Be Saturday Night" which makes me start singing in my head "HEY, MAN, I'M ALIVE, I'M TAKING EACH DAY AND NIGHT AT A TIME, FEELING LIKE A MONDAY BUT SOMEDAY I'LL BE SATURDAY NIGHT."

I like that song. Moving on now.

Currently, I am reading three books:

1) Ranger's Apprentice Book Eight: The Kings of Clonmel, by John Flanagan
2) Innocent Traitor, by Alison Weir,
3) The Heroes of Olympus Book One: The Lost Hero, by Rick Riordan

and I just keep flipping between them all. Everyone is talking about number three, and I want to finish it so I know what's going on, but it's not nearly as compelling as some people keep making it seem. Number two I keep abandoning to read the series number one is in, and number one is now being pushed aside for number three. I like them all, nonetheless. Continuing on . . .

See, I should be working on NaNo right now. Fifteen days are left. And, really, when I think about it, I have the basics down; I'm just ironing out details and making sure I get everything down. Character Profiles are basically done. The past events that happen before the book are covered, the whole middle part is covered, and I think I'll just go with Des's strategy: I'll think of an ending when I get there. My ideas always run away from me anyways. I'll end up doing something different, at least a bit, no matter what, so I think it's better this way. I still need to keep moving on that, though.

Yesterday, three of the five people I adore most in the world (the other two were sadly unable to make it *sob*) and I had my birthday party. Overall, we spent three-quarters of an hour laughing (it was timed) and then went back to my house and did stuff, and then went bowling, where they said we were too old for bumpers. Stupid people. *kicks stupid people*

They also decided that they were going to frost my cake. And so they told me I had to go to the bathroom and locked me in. I sang some show tunes for a while, actually used the bathroom, then got bored and read The Lost Hero while I waited.

And let's just say that many sprinkles do not belong on one cake. It crunched. *snickers* Also, they purposely misspelled my name. *despairs* Then crossed it out and re-wrote it. It was a lot more fun than I can properly describe . . .

BUT THEN--we did more stuff. And eventually went to sleep.

You know that was enthralling and captivating and emotionally moving. Or not. But still . . .

--Ave, who is just a bit loopy . . .

And Then...

October eleventh, 2010.

Just after nine pm.

On a Monday night, Columbus Day, actually.

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Oh my god.

The past two days had been, in a single word: Epic.

Productive? Not at all. But enjoyable and awesome and nothing bad had happened at all, which made it seem so great even though it was average.

Yesterday I was hanging around with all my cousins and we did stupid idiotic things that cousins do, including a two-hour long game of Life in which everyone kept having to pay my brother (the doctor) loads of cash, even when they stole his 100,000 dollar payday. It was hilarious. And then we created the Sword in the Stone with The Sword in the Ice Cream Cake, seeing as no one could cut the thing. Insane and awesome nonetheless.

Today, we went to Barnes and Noble, where I spent forever and a day picking out three books. Books are expensive. *sobs* Anyways.

Storm wrote a story about what happened with Zoe. She published it. And then the stupid LU started freaking out over it breaking the rules. Honestly, I don't care if a story is against the rules or an author is underage: It's about quality, and, even more, effort. Storm's been through more than enough over this, and they couldn't ignore it. Idiots. So then there was a minor fight...

I should go now. And it's not my place to tell.

--Ave, who is going to read The Sorcerer in the North, since she finished The Battle for Skandia, which is so much better than The Icebound Land and The Sorcerer in the North so far

PS--Yes, I did feel like confusing all of you who have not read Ranger's Apprentice :P