Bringing Jared In On It

Here's another snippet of the book I'm working on:

But Mrs. Coleman was inexplicably at the desk again.  “Hi, Ana!  Are you going out?” 

“Yes, ma’am, I’m going down to the grocery to get a few things for myself.”  Ana bit back an offer to run any errand Mrs. Coleman might have. 

“Alright.  Oh!  Did you turn in this sock and book?”  

“Yeah, I did, they were in the blue room,” said Ana.  “I put it down there in the ledger.” 

“Yes!  I saw that, I just wanted to be sure.” 

A pause and Ana smiled.  “Sure.  Okay, well, I’ll be back a little later I guess.” 

Mrs. Coleman smiled.  “Alright, Ana.  I’ll keep supper for you.” 

“Oh, don’t bother,” said Ana.  “If I’m out past time, I’ll buy something at the grocery.” 

“Jared will probably be happy to share with you whatever he’s made for himself,” said Mrs. Coleman.  “He usually offers, he’s a good boy. 

Ana’s cheeks flushed.  “I might do that,” she answered, “if he offers.  Well, I’ll be back later.”

“Alright, stay warm!” 

“I will!” Ana called over her shoulder, shutting the door.  The odious air hit her like skunk’s spray.

But what luck, the governor was heading for the inn. 

“Mr. Feldman!  Um….  How are you?” 

“Ana!  Well, I can’t complain.  How are you?”  He pushed his top hat back off his forehead. 

Ana smiled.  “I’m doing well.  Sir, I was actually wondering something….  I’m glad I bumped into you.  I was wondering if I could get into the castle library.” 

“Oh.  Oh!”  Mr. Feldman looked up at the dark sky, adjusting his glasses.  “Um well, you see….  No, I’m afraid not.  I just don’t have the time to take you.” 

“Well, see, I was fascinated by some of those books,” said Ana, “and so I was hoping if you could just let me in for a few hours….  I just want to leaf through some of those tomes if I may.” 

He used his hands to punctuate his answer.  “Hmm, well, see….  I don’t know that I can really let you do that.  Anyway, I certainly can’t let you… browse around in there by yourself.  I’d have to be with you and I just don’t have the time right now.  Maybe next week, or next month!  I just haven’t time.” 

“Okay.  Okay, well, thanks anyway,” said Ana.  “Um….  Well, good evening, sir.” 

“Good evening, Ana.  I’m sorry about that.” 

“Oh!  It’s okay.  Thanks anyway.” 

Mr. Feldman went into the warm inn and disappeared behind the door. 

No one else was out just now.  The chill biting at her face, Anna ran across the street to the grocery.  The doorbell rang over her head as she went in, and the warmth from the stove was pleasing and welcoming.  Jared stood by it, stirring stew in his cast iron pot.  The carrots and the sausage simmered together with the green tomato relish in such a pungent way. 

“Hello, Ana,” said Jared, his face a blank.  “I saw you coming, what can I get you?” 

Ana glanced around the store.  “Well, nothing for now,” she said, “I just want to look around.”  She picked up a large skillet and weighed it in her hand.  Then she put it down.  Then she picked up a wooden spoon.  “How are you?” 

“Oh, I’m doing well,” said Jared.  “Business has been slower lately, because of the cold, of course, but people still stop by to get warm and chat, so life’s not too dull so far this winter.” 

Ana put down the wooden spoon.  “That’s good.  How is your family?”  The stove was alluring warm so she crept up close to it.

“They’re doing alright.”  Jared poked around in his pot with his spoon.  “I bet you could smell this across the street, couldn’t you?” 

“Yeah, in my bedroom, actually,” said Ana.  “But that was about half an hour ago, isn’t it done?” 

“Well, I think it is, just about,” said Jared.  “Would you like some?” 

“Oh, I would love some, if you don’t mind,” said Ana. 

He reached over and took up the first of two bowls.  “Here you are – my pleasure.”  He filled his own bowl. 

“It’s very good,” said Ana.  “Thank you.” 

“You think so?” he said.  He tasted it for himself.  “Yeah, it’s not bad.  Um, so I saw you talking to the judge.  May I ask what about?” 

“Umm….”  Ana took another mouthful of soup. 

“If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to,” said Jared. 

“Oh no, I was just asking if I could get back into the castle library because… well….”  

Ana pursed her lips.  “Do you know why it smells so bad some of the time?” 

“No one does, I don’t think,” said Jared. 

“Well….  I want to get into the castle library and see if I can’t find some of those chronicles again.  There’s something just not quite… right about this town.” 

“What do you mean?” Jared asked. 

She looked up at him.  “Well….  I don’t know, exactly, but there are some things that just don’t seem right.  I mean, no one can explain the smell to me.  The whole castle thing is shrouded in hazy mystery….  And the animals….  Well.  There aren’t enough of them, or there’s too many of them….  But I’ve encountered several fantastic beings in the woods.” 

Jared perked up.  “You mean the elves?” 

“You’ve seen them too?” 

“Sometimes, when I’m out hunting, I see them hunting or just sitting in a tree.  I don’t know if they see me.  If they do, they don’t acknowledge me.” 

“Have other people here seen them?” 

“Not that I’ve heard,” said Jared, “and I’ve kept an ear open.”

“Well, it’s not just elves, either,” said Ana.  “I’ve seen… other things.  Things I’ve never seen before so I’m not sure what they are.  And I’ve seen fairies, and I’ve certainly encountered pixies.  Anyway, it seems strange.” 

“I agree.” 

“Okay, well, I was thinking that some of the books in the library might have some clues.  But Mr. Feldman won’t let me in.”

Jared took on the look of an imp.  “You could go in anyway,” he suggested. 

Ana smiled.  “Well, I was planning to,” she admitted.  “But I don’t know how, so I’ll have to figure that out.” 

Jared smiled.  “Well… I–I think I can help you with that.” 

Ana looked up at him, a grin spreading over her face.  “Yeah?” 

Assuredly, he said, “I think so."

Any thoughts?

~Meggy

Thoughtful Friday

How often I find myself saying, "Ummm... my bad, God.  Here, you-you can have this back now."

Our differences make us grow, but our similarities bring us together.  We need both to make us strong.

The Artless Ana Dicker

I've begun a new story.  I'm not sure where exactly it's going to go, but I figured I'd just go for it!  See what happens.  I'm really struggling with character lately, making them interesting and unique, lovable and memorable.  But I think it's getting better.  I've restarted this story a few times, as my ideas shape and reform, and as I come up with new ways to narrate my story.

So before I get much further, I'd like your thoughts and suggestions.  Tell me about the opening line, the first paragraph – how far to do have to go before you get a feel?  Before you're sold and want to go on, before you get a feeling for what the reading is going to be like, before you're thrust into the story?  Read as much or as little as you'd like, so long as I can get some feedback, that'd be lovely.

The last storm had dumped almost a foot of snow, dead and punishing, crunching underhoof.  Fides’ breath clouded the air hard as nails; the crunching of the icy snow echoed for a mile.  The snow had turned to rain in the middle of the night and created a thin, brittle crust on the surface of the fluff.  Fortunately, an overhang of rock ten or eleven miles back kept the bulk of the precipitation off of the travelers, but Ana, a little slight of a nineteen-year-old, still shivered in her saddle.  The reins may or may not have been taut in her hands for all she knew, but she wasn’t thinking about that.  She wasn’t thinking much about anything except her lungs moving in and out, and about the town that she knew was just a few more miles.  She hoped she knew.

The pine trees obscured the view, but the smell of pine wood burning spiced the air she breathed.  The town began not half a mile along, in fact, and once they were there, they were there.  The forest ended with the first house and the town was a cluster of buildings all huddled together as if for warmth, secluding the trees to their backs.  The town was a decidedly odd sight.  For at least a couple miles, Ana and Fides had been ascending a gentle slope, but where the town began, the hill became steeper, so that the whole collection of properties was clearly built on the side of a hill.  A common strip up and down the middle, a road led up to the meeting building.

Couples riding up and down in sleighs and children tugging other children in sleds packed down the snow here so that the going was much easier for Fides now.  Ana slowed him nearly to a halt as they neared a sleigh heading their way.  “Excuse me,” she raised her thin voice over the bells.  “The inn?”

The young man in the sleigh turned away from his giggling partner and gave Ana the once-over.  “You’re looking for the inn?” he said.  His post-puberty voice hid a high pitch that tickled the ear.  “It’s about four or five buildings up.  See the sign?”  He pointed where a sign was standing out, apparently in the road.

Ana checked herself and glanced at his feminine companion.  Her hat hid most, but not all, of her curled blond hair.  Her cheeks and the tip of her little nose flushed red in the cold.  Her blue eyes stared back, nothing apparent in them.  Ana looked again at the young man, nothing of consequence to her, and thanked him.

That last distance seemed a mile before she reached the sign, which was carved and freshly painted green, with a pine tree carved above the words ‘Cole Inn.’  Her hands did not wish to relinquish the reins.

A man rushed out the front door of the inn, pulling on a coat, terribly underdressed.  “Go right on in,” he said.  “You look absolutely freezing.  I’ll care for your horse.”

Ana sighed.  “I’ll come with you,” she said.  “Where is your stable?”

“In the back,” he said.  “I’m sorry, with the snow falling like this, I haven’t been out to pack down the walk.  You’ll have to trudge through.”  Indeed, the two of them soaked themselves up to the knee; the drop startled Fides and he lurched as he found his footing in the soft snow.  The stable door wouldn’t skate open fast enough for any of them, shivering their misery in the cold.

Inside the stable, the temperature jumped to a bearable level – at least, so it was after enduring the weather so long.  Ana could not undue the buckles herself, but she saw where the innkeeper stored her tack, and inspected Fides’ stall for herself, and gave the innkeeper explicit instructions for his care.  Satisfied with Mr. Coleman’s character, she set out on her journey back to the inn.  Mrs. Coleman stood at the open backdoor, calling to her: “Come in, dear, do come in!  How far you must have traveled in this weather to get here.  Which direction did you come from?”

“The south,” Ana chattered.  Her skin tingled in the sensational warmth of the back entry.  “From Kentown.”

Mrs. Coleman was decidedly incredulous.  She bustled Ana into the private sitting room and helped her peel off her outer things.  “I’ll give you my dressing robe,” she said.  “You undress and hang your things by the fire, alright?  You’re sure a little thing.  Here you are.  I have to get back to the front room, but I’ll send the boys up to your room to get the fire going and set it for you.  We’re just a simple inn, nothing compared to what you may be used to, coming from the southern towns as you are.  But each room has a stove, which I’m sure you will well appreciate after your long journey.  I’ll tell them to move the bed closer to it.  I’m sure my husband is bringing in your things.”

“He is,” said Ana.

“Alright, I’ll be going then,” said Mrs. Coleman.  “But you strip down and relax.  I’ll send a girl back with some tea.  Or would you like coffee?”

“Tea,” said Ana, “please.”

“Not a coffee drinker?  I love tea myself, although I must have my cup of coffee.  But tea is just the thing for you.  Alright, I’ll get you some tea.”

“Thank you,” said Ana.  “I appreciate it.”  Mrs. Coleman closed the door to the sitting room finally and Ana quickly stripped out of all her trousers and put on Mrs. Coleman’s robe.  The heat from the fire pierced her cold skin like Scotch pine needles.  The sitting room wasn’t very fancy, but it was cosy.  A single portrait hung on the wall, a young woman in an old fashioned collar.  Red curtains trimmed the window and a red rug accented the table.  Little doodads and trinkets decorated the mantle as they should.  An armchair stood angled at the fireplace, and three small cushions furbished the sofa.  Ana sat on the hearth, her back to the fire when her face could no longer take the heat.

Mrs. Coleman did indeed get Ana a cup of hot tea, and she did indeed send it.  But it was not with one of her girls as she had promised.  A young man came in, catching Ana in nothing but her underthings and a robe – a thick, warm robe, but a robe nonetheless.  Ana’s heart jumped into her mouth.

“Oh, excuse me,” he said.  Hesitating, he put the tea down on the table.  “Mrs. Coleman didn’t say….  I’m Chad Phillips.”  He began to offer his hand and changed his mind.

“A-Ana Dicker.”

~Meggy

FROZEN

Okay, this is ridiculous.  I'm going to go see Frozen in the theaters.

People seem to be divided between hating it and loving it.  Personally, I'm skeptical.  I haven't been blown away by the singing I've heard, or even by the songs themselves.  But hey, I'll wait until I see the movie.  I was going to wait until I could rent it and watch it in my living room, or watch it on Netflix.  But I am tired of wondering about the truth and adopting other's evaluations of it.  If I walk out of that theater loving it, it's going to be hard to come to grips with….  But I'll give it a shot.

Have you seen it?  What did you think?

~Meggy

A Request to Writers

Please don't treat readers like they can't figure it out.

I love Diana Wynne Jones' books, but there are definitely lines and passages where I cringe and wonder, "Were you even trying?"  Her stories are wonderfully imaginative and they inspire me to write, inspiration which is very needed lately – but sometimes the way she phrases what she wants to say is just so… lame.  It was especially noticeable after I began reading her books aloud to my sister, and there were just some areas that I felt stupid saying aloud.  Granted, I think she's catering to a younger audience than me – certainly, my young sister found no fault with Jones – but even so, I have to wonder sometimes.

And I was thinking about it when I was writing this morning.

Well, that's all I have to say on that.

Next time, I think I'll talk about narrative voice.  Cuz it's awesome.

~Meggy

Blank Christmas Home Cookies

I wish I had something to write here.  I truly do.  I truly, dupily do.  But my mind is a blank.  A fat ole blank.  Imagine a white sheet of paper, then take an eraser and shimmy it all over the paper, then take liquid white out and spill it out on the paper and spread it around, then crumple it up and throw it in a can of white paint, and when the paper dries – that's how blank my mind is.

As white as the foot of snow we have.

Mmm but Christmas is coming.  We have decorations up, and we're lighting our Advent wreath, and presents are beginning to stack up under the tree.  I know some people don't decorate their tree until Christmas Eve, which sounds like a lovely tradition but then you have a big ole ugly tree sitting in your house for weeks until Christmas Eve.  We decorate the tree as soon as we get it up.  What do you do?

It's funny being away at college and coming home to a slightly different atmosphere.  The dog and cat have gotten into bad habits.  I've been discovering that it has to do with their masters not being as firm with them as they maybe should be.  And, you know, with time, it's sometimes hard to see the hurt you do to others with your daily words and actions.  Some individuals, if not all, have perhaps slipped a little when it comes to that.  But on the other hand, my siblings have gotten older and matured.  I can talk to my baby sister like an adult now.  We went out shopping the other day and she was very helpful assisting me navigate complicated streets.  We had intelligent conversations.  It's nice to be home.

On a lighter note, my boyfriend sent me a great recipe for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and I'm going to do some baking today in our oven.  Mmm yum yum yum.  What's better than cookies?

~Meggy

Christmas (ding ding) Christmas (ding ding) Christmas….

I've got less than one week left at school!  I wish I could come up with something fun and fascinating and even a little crazy to share with yuh'all, but right now, I'm just feeling rather brainwashed.  So here's a cute little Christmas photo I found on Pinterest:

~Meggy

The Blind Bottle

The bottle that meant life or death.  The bottle that meant life-gripping illness, paralyzing pain if it was unstoppered.  The one that she had received a sound beating for after almost smashing it on the floor.  The one she had lived in dread fear of for long years.

–No.  No, don't open it!

The stew was boiling.  The spiders remained happily in their dusty corners.  The owl in the rafters slept soundly.  The hag's incantation had proceeded without interruption.

Then:

–Why should I not open the vial?  You are useless and ugly!  Why should I not?  You have never been but a crutch to me.

She hid in the broom closet, cowering on the floor.  Pulling on the knob.  The dank darkness rancid.

Silence reigned.  The old woman was gone.  The bottle awaited, on the bookshelf beside the thick tome.

The bottle was in hand.  The door was open.  She ran straight.  Kept running.  To where was there to go, else straight?  The hovel was behind.  Gone.  Gone!  The bottle was in hand.  The dead shrub stood in the whiteness, crows swirling around it.  Blind.  As the old bag had described it to her.

Her hand found something.  Something round.  Something rough.  Something tall.  She fell to her hands and knees.  Straight.  Straight onward.  A hole.  The bottle slipped and fit.  It could go deep downward.

Straight.  Straight back.  Back.  Back….  Straight back….

Practical Writing Advice

I don't know where this is originally from, but I got it here.


Practical Writing Advice from Chuck Palahniuk

“In six seconds, you’ll hate me.
 But in six months, you’ll be a better writer.

From this point forward—at least for the next half year—you may not 
use “thought” verbs. These include: Thinks, Knows, Understands,
Realizes, Believes, Wants, Remembers, Imagines, Desires, and a hundred
 others you love to use.

The list should also include: Loves and Hates.
And it should include: Is and Has, but we’ll get to those later.Until some time around Christmas, you can’t write: Kenny wondered if Monica didn’t like him going out at night…”

Instead, you’ll have to Un-pack that to something like: “The
 mornings after Kenny had stayed out, beyond the last bus, until he’d
had to bum a ride or pay for a cab and got home to find Monica faking
 sleep, faking because she never slept that quiet, those mornings, she’d
 only put her own cup of coffee in the microwave. Never his.”

Instead of characters knowing anything, you must now present
 the details that allow the reader to know them. Instead of a character 
wanting something, you must now describe the thing so that the reader
 wants it.

Instead of saying: “Adam knew Gwen liked him.” You’ll have 
to say: “Between classes, Gwen had always leaned on his locker when he’d
 go to open it. She’s roll her eyes and shove off with one foot, 
leaving a black-heel mark on the painted metal, but she also left the
 smell of her perfume. The combination lock would still be warm from her
 butt. And the next break, Gwen would be leaned there, again.”

In short, no more short-cuts. Only specific sensory detail: action, smell, taste, sound, and feeling.

Typically,
 writers use these “thought” verbs at the beginning of a paragraph (In 
this form, you can call them “Thesis Statements” and I’ll rail against
 those, later). In a way, they state the intention of the paragraph. And
what follows, illustrates them.

For example:
“Brenda knew she’d never make the deadline. Traffic
 was backed up from the bridge, past the first eight or nine exits. Her
 cell phone battery was dead. At home, the dogs would need to go out, or
 there would be a mess to clean up. Plus, she’d promised to water the 
plants for her neighbor…”

Do you see how the opening “thesis statement” steals the thunder of what follows? Don’t do it.

If nothing else, cut the opening sentence and place it after all the others. Better yet, transplant it and change it to: Brenda would never make the deadline.

Thinking is abstract. Knowing and believing are intangible. Your
 story will always be stronger if you just show the physical actions
 and details of your characters and allow your reader to do the thinking
 and knowing. And loving and hating.

Don’t tell your reader: “Lisa hated Tom.”

Instead, make your case like a lawyer in court, detail by detail.

Present each piece of evidence. For example:
“During roll call,
in the breath after the teacher said Tom’s name, in that moment before
 he could answer, right then, Lisa would whisper-shout ‘Butt Wipe,’ just
 as

Tom was saying, ‘Here’.”

One of the most-common mistakes that beginning writers make is leaving their characters alone. Writing, 
you may be alone. Reading, your audience may be alone. But your
 character should spend very, very little time alone. Because a solitary 
character starts thinking or worrying or wondering.

For example: Waiting for the bus, Mark started to worry about how long the trip would take…”

A better break-down might be: “The schedule said the bus would come
by at noon, but Mark’s watch said it was already 11:57. You could see 
all the way down the road, as far as the Mall, and not see a bus. No
 doubt, the driver was parked at the turn-around, the far end of the
 line, taking a nap. The driver was kicked back, asleep, and Mark was
 going to be late. Or worse, the driver was drinking, and he’d pull up
drunk and charge Mark seventy-five cents for death in a fiery traffic
 accident…”

A character alone must lapse into fantasy or memory, but even then
 you can’t use “thought” verbs or any of their abstract relatives.

Oh, and you can just forget about using the verbs forget and remember.

No more transitions such as: “Wanda remembered how Nelson used to brush her hair.”

Instead: “Back in their sophomore year, Nelson used to brush her hair with smooth, long strokes of his hand.”

Again, Un-pack. Don’t take short-cuts.

Better yet, get your character with another character, fast. 
Get them together and get the action started. Let their actions and
words show their thoughts. You—stay out of their heads.

And while you’re avoiding “thought” verbs, be very wary about using the bland verbs “is” and “have.”

For example:
“Ann’s eyes are blue.”

“Ann has blue eyes.”

Versus:

“Ann coughed and waved one hand past her face, clearing the cigarette smoke from her eyes, blue eyes, before she smiled…”

Instead of bland “is” and “has” statements, try burying your details
of what a character has or is, in actions or gestures. At its most
basic, this is showing your story instead of telling it.

And forever after, once you’ve learned to Un-pack your characters,
you’ll hate the lazy writer who settles for: “Jim sat beside the
telephone, wondering why Amanda didn’t call.”

Please. For now, hate me all you want, but don’t use thought verbs. After Christmas, go crazy, but I’d bet money you won’t.

(…)

For this month’s homework, pick through your writing and circle every “thought” verb. Then, find some way to eliminate it. Kill it by un-packing it.

Then, pick through some published fiction and do the same thing. Be ruthless.

“Marty imagined fish, jumping in the moonlight…”

“Nancy recalled the way the wine tasted…”

“Larry knew he was a dead man…”

Find them. After that, find a way to re-write them. Make them stronger.”

Chuck Palahniuk

Do you agree?  Do you disagree?

~Meggy

Random Thoughts

Aaaaaaand… BEGIN:


I want to be irreplaceable.  I want to be a person that others miss when I'm not there.  I want to be a personality that no one can fill in for.  I want to bring something new and different to the table.  I want to stand out by being myself and only myself.  I want to relate to people in a special way, in a way that only I can.

–––

My boyfriend bought me flowers the other day.  In a text message later, he told me:

Do you know why I chose those flowers?  White carnations are symbolic of purity.  The red rose is for love.

My boyfriend, people.  Dear sweet romantic.

___

Here's the beginning of my new story:

How to begin my tale?  It is difficult to say.  I could describe Cobbston and its townfolk, queer people that they are – but then you would be left in mystery of me, grasping at straws of details as they are introduced throughout my story.  I could make you work a little bit to hold the threads together in your mind; you could get to know me as Cobbston did – piece by piece.  Michael did.
But most certainly, I cannot begin with Michael.  He was about six feet tall, beefy and strong, and his black hair waved in a goofy arch on his forehead.  His eyes were green, his skin was thick, and he was warm – oh, so warm – and a good deal bigger than I.  But I did not meet him until after I had met the other players of my tale.

The rest is in a notebook somewhere, where I put it down during a boring lecture.

–––

I don't want to do homework….  :(

~Meggy

Doctor Who Tag, VIII

Click HERE to visit the original tag at Climbing the Alpine Path.

Day Eight
Least Favorite Companions

Last entry, I said:

Rose was annoying, Martha was pitiable, and Clara is too cute.  Clara almost overpowers the Doctor, in my humble opinion.  I know some people like her because she is cute and sassy, but I feel like her story domineers the show and her personality is stronger than the Doctor's – which annoys me greatly.

So yes, those are my thoughts.  It's hard for me to say that I don't like one of the companions––  No wait, I cannot stand Vastra and Jenny.  They are trying too hard to be cool and FAILING.  …In my humble opinion.  They're homosexual??? relationship is also just plain irritating.  Like why?  Adds nothing to anything.

~Meggy

Doctor Who Tag, VII

Click HERE to visit the original tag at Climbing the Alpine Path.

Day Seven

Favorite Companions

Donna Noble is definitely my favorite character.  She doesn't take any crap but she is spunky and funny, sassy, and not a drama-queen (in general) and yet still has emotional depth.  She keeps the Doctor in check in many different ways in a lot of situations.  I also happen to really enjoy her episodes – whether that's because she is in them, I'm not sure.

The Ponds are possibly next on the list – they were fun and funny.  But towards the end, I got tired of their drama (notice a theme?).  It seemed clear to me that the plots were written simply to continue building the Ponds' relationship, and I didn't feel it was working very well.

Rose was annoying, Martha was pitiable, and Clara is too cute.  Clara almost overpowers the Doctor, in my humble opinion.  I know some people like her because she is cute and sassy, but I feel like her story domineers the show and her personality is stronger than the Doctor's – which annoys me greatly.

~Meggy

Doctor Who Tag, VI

Click HERE to visit the original tag at Climbing the Alpine Path.

Day Six
Favorite Doctors

Of the three I've seen extensively, I'm inclined to say that Matt Smith is my favorite.  David Tennant is really good (he's one of my favorite actors), and Christopher Eccleston has his own charm – but Matt Smith's character is less wrapped up in his own emotion and self-imagined drama.  He pities himself less, at least noticeably.  Matt Smith's character is clearly just having fun while still saving the world.

David Tennant's character is extremely funny as well as dramatic, but takes himself too seriously (as evidenced by the specials at the end of his run).  The character development allows for this… but Matt Smith's character is just more fun for me to watch.  (Keeping in mind that I have little patience with drama-queen characters.)

~Meggy

SPARKLES

Wow, life has been so busy!  So much has happened the last few weeks, I can hardly believe that I last visited over half a month ago!

For one thing, I "intented" to a Household here on campus (kind of like a sorority) and then I dropped my "intentship."  I went through a lot of drama with friends and got through it.  My grades rose and fell and rose and fell and… well, you get the picture.

A guy professed his interest for me to my best friend only a day or two after meeting me.  He is now my boyfriend.  [I actually mentioned that incident in this post.]  He is such a sweetheart, and a romantic.  I always regarded myself as a romantic in my head, but I'm far too cynical and shy for that – this guy far out-romances me.  But he's not showy or flamboyant.  And he respects me.  He values me and cherishes me, communication has been the foundation of our relationship, and we talked about a relationship long before we decided to date.  He was perfectly willing to wait for me to be ready.  We're studying abroad in consecutive semesters, which is going to suck, but I think we can do it.  He's just about a foot taller than me, and not at all my usual type – but so cute in other ways.  I trust him and I'm comfortable with him.  He's sweetly awkward and dorky; such a Southern gentleman.  I love watching him get so happy and excited over our developing relationship.  (His seldom-used nickname is Sparkles.)

And as the semester winds down and finals approach, I'm going to get really busy.  And Thanksgiving will pass; and Christmas will come; and New Years will chime – and this time, I'll have a boyfriend.

Sappy, I know, but hey, I have a boyfriend :)

~Meggy

Writing Character

http://thebladethatwasbroken.wordpress.com/2013/10/29/writing-tip-1-the-heart-in-conflict-with-itself/

Good stuff here.

~Meggy

Voco Auxilio Protinus

(Is the title right?)

I'm looking for people who know their Latin stuff.  I need help with my homework.  The sooner you get back to me, the better.  This is due tomorrow afternoon!!!

As tempting as it sounds, I don't want you to do it for me.  I just need some explanation and some hints, because I am completely lost.  (Where in this textbook do I look to figure this out???)

Okay, so here's a sentence my professor gave me:

Hac de re quid cogitem?

It kind of looks like: "I think what concerning this thing?"  But that doesn't really make sense.  If I translate it by word: "This (abl. f.) down from (takes abl.) thing (abl. f.) what I think (subjunctive?)?"  What do I do with the subjunctive?

And while we're at it, this is what I have for the other sentences:

• Veniunt ut matrem suam videant.
• They come in order that they may see her mother.

• Tam cito veniunt ut matrem suam videant.
• They come so quickly in order that they may see her mother.

• Rogat herine venerint.
• He asks if they had not come yesterday.

• Utinam hodie veniant!
• If only they will come today!

Are any of these right?  I'm really struggling to keep up with all the new grammar rules – I guess I'll just have to spend a ton more time studying.

Danke bunches,

~Meggy

Eeyore

I… was going to write about something… but now I don't remember what.  Hmm.  Huh.  Befuddled.

Well!  Anyway, have you checked out my new blog yet?  I'd really appreciate it if you would!  And also, if you're on Facebook, follow the blog on Facebook!  I'm not exactly sure why… but I want to promote my new blog and make it something real.  I want to take my blogging to the next level.

I guess we'll see!

I suppose next time I'll talk about Franciscan households, intenting, and maybe post a vague reflection on a relationship that's finally crumbling around me.  Fun stuff.  Nothing you haven't already heard from me before.  But you'll want to read it anyway.  Because I'm just that awesome.  Yup.

Someone recently compared me to Eeyore.  I love it!  I'm totally like Eeyore!

http://www.winnie-pooh.org/eeyore-quotes.htm

"Eeyore, what are you doing there?" said Rabbit.
"I'll give you three guesses, Rabbit. Digging holes in the ground? Wrong. Leaping from branch to branch of a young oak tree? Wrong. Waiting for somebody to help me out of the river? Right. Give Rabbit time, and he'll always get the answer."
"But, Eeyore," said Pooh in distress, "what can we - I mean, how shall we - do you think if we -"
"Yes," said Eeyore. "One of those would be just the thing. Thank you, Pooh."

"I might have known," said Eeyore. "After all, one can't complain. I have my friends. Somebody spoke to me only yesterday. And was it last week or the week before that Rabbit bumped into me and said 'Bother!'. The Social Round. Always something going on."

Well.  Anyway.  I should be getting to bed about now….

Night all

~Meggy

The Child in the Dark

[Intense content]

There is a child.  He – or she – lives in a basement, a cellar.  It is dark; there, light nor comfort ever enter.  Food is sometimes dropped in through the cellar door, scattering and crumbling, tumbling across the floor in all directions.  It is covered in mold and dust, now, and the messes the child has made.  The floor is an atrocity.  It is covered in rat carcasses, which the child has nibbled on in the long darkness between feedings.  The child is thin and dirty; his skin is red and bloated from abuse and a lack of care. Unbeknownst to all, someone comes down into the dark.  A great man in silence comes down into the cellar and beats the child.  The child feels the man's blows until his face is swollen and bloodied.  He is left alone down there, to bleed and whimper.  The child speaks no words; he cannot speak any words.  The only sounds he makes are the gasps and moans involuntary but necessary to the abuse he suffers.

Festering in the dark, he knows nothing else.  Dying, gasping, breathing, he knows not where he is or what he is or why.  He cannot even ask himself these questions.

The child is no longer a child.  But he still lives in the darkness.  He is not a person; his head and heart are empty.  He has never been anything, and he will never be anything.  No one has compassion on him; no one acknowledges his existence.  The great man doesn't come anymore; there is nothing in the child's darkness but squeaking and scuffling.  And one day, the squeaking and scuffling do not find resistance.  And the darkness never ends.

......

This is the kind of movie that I have had more than enough of.  This is entertainment?

~Meggy

Baby Girl

Life has been busy.  Between crazy classes and crazy drama, I've been having a hard time figuring out whether to laugh or cry.

You may remember "boy-who-messed-up-my-last-semester."  Our contact this semester has been awkward and the terms of our friendship are largely undefined.  Sometimes it hurts to see him – even more likely when he's with his girlfriend – and sometimes it doesn't bother me.  In theory, I smile to think he's happy; I'm happy, too.  But the reality is I'm sad things ended so badly, and I begrudge the fact that he felt it necessary to pull so far out of my life.  Maybe he's the wise one….  I couldn't say.

Another guy friend of mine has indirectly ended our friendship by deciding to completely remove the girl, who is my best friend, from his life.  He has a determined, leaning on the prideful side, headstrong personality, and this semester those irritating character traits of his seem to be worse.  I couldn't say for certain what and why… but I'm not the only one who thinks so.  Friends of mine have come to me and basically said, "What is going on with that guy?"  And he seems to have pushed away at least a few people.  The number one concern on the back of my mind is that he's almost secluded himself in a small, narrow community – harder for me or anyone else to reach out to him and see if there's a healthier balance.  But also, he was always there for me; and yet those moments of support always had a certain amount of "let me do my duty and check in on you but not really go out of my way otherwise" feeling to it.  I feel that way all the more now that he literally abandoned me when I wanted to hang out with him, simply because he didn't want to get involved in the drama my best friend was going through at the time.

There's also a guy who's into me, which he had decided after only knowing me for two days.  He's been behaving himself very well for the most part, but I had rather hoped that the initial infatuation had worn off – such is very much not the case.  The other night, we somehow ended up in a common room alone for a long time.  Instead of continuing to watch Doctor Who, we started talking – which is nice, right?  But you've got to be careful when you're with a guy who is way more into you than you are into him.  My best guy friend calls him my "stalker."  …Not seriously, of course.  This guy and I are good friends now and he's friends with my friends…and so on….

But so far, it's all been bad news, hasn't it?

I had a really nice conversation with my baby sister tonight.  I kept her up until 11; but she's thirteen now, and it's amazing to tell to her about things and listen to her responses.  It's not that she has experienced these things or understands what I'm experiencing, but she's older now, less of a child and more of a woman.  I love that little girl so much and I miss her.

In other news, I intented to Daughters of Jerusalem household; and I'm spending all day tomorrow in Pittsburgh.  More on that soon!

~Meggy

We're Moving!

Okay, here's the lowdown.  This is not an entirely easy decision for me, but Magic, Ink, and Dreams/Ginger and Rubies/Marcmire is losing its usefulness.  I've been watching other people transition to new blogs and I just sort of goggled them in bewilderment.  Their new blog wasn't radically different from their old one – why didn't they just overhaul their old one?

But now I think I understand.

This blog is kind of a mess.  Like a journal you've been using for a long time, it's falling apart at the seams and contains a lot of different material.  I've "overhauled" it a couple different times and I'm just not happy with it.  It's too cluttered and messy.  Only a complete demo and rebuild would do, I feel like – but there's still some good material here.

So while I'm trying to decide what to do with "Marcmire" (returning to "Magic, Ink, and Dreams" is an option I'm considering – theme as well as title), I've started a new blog.

"[Experience] Our Hearts [Wholly] Unhindered" is partially a more serious blog and partially a more grown-up blog.  "Our Hearts Unhindered" (working title?) will be for those posts I have written and will write that address real world problems, such as Busting Franciscan Myths, Ridiculous Facebook, Confidence Quotes, and perhaps re-blogged articles from other blogs (with the proper attribution).

If I continue to use this blog, it will be for the other stuff – the stuff that reads like I threw-up on the page; the stuff that is just my geeky, awkward, spazzy little brain letting off steam.

One main problem I have with this blog is my audience.  I'm not too sure that I really have one anymore; my stats have jumped into unbelievable numbers, but I'm fairly convinced these page views are mainly bots crawling my pages.  And what's more, I think most of my "audience" is either still in that blogging phase that I've left behind, or has moved on and left me behind.  Either way, I've lost my audience.

And what's more, I want more out of blogging.  I want to reach people and get comments by people who come to my blog for a specific topic I've written about – and not just because I'm in a blogosphere of young writers journaling about their lives and getting super excited reading about others' lives.  That was fun once, but I honestly don't have time to read posts about the daily walk you took this morning.  Not unless it has a point.

And I don't need that kind of outlet anymore.  (Praise my Heavenly Daddy for His blessings these past few years.)

So… to those of my loyal readers who still keep up with this blog, this post is for you.  Thank you bunches, and I'll try to keep this updated with random thoughts that come to mind – but it's getting harder to do.  I used to write about things that happened in my daily life, but it didn't used to necessitate hiding identities or trying to be vague to avoid embarrassment.

But at the same time, "Our Hearts Unhindered" isn't the place for spazzing – and sometimes I want to.  So the future of "'Marcmire'" is unclear.  As you are the one who reads this stuff, I'd love to hear what you think – if indeed, "you" exist.

And that's how that goes.

The address of the new place is http://ourheartsunhindered.blogspot.com if you wanna check it out and give me feedback (if you want to comment on appearance or anything not directly related to the posts there, please comment back here).  It's a work in progress and it's not officially "published" yet, so to speak, but it should be ready soon.

Thank you, anyone and everyone, for reading anything I've written over the years.  I've come a long way… and it still awes me to think about it.  Truly, I could not be more grateful for how far I've come.

~Meggy

Busting Franciscan Myths

"I mean, I'm mostly going to college to find a husband."

Don't come to Franciscan.  According to THIS SITE and one other, the boy/girl ratio is between 40/60 and 30/70.  There are a lot of girls.  A lot of girls, especially compared to so few guys!

I know: "I'm hoping to find a good Catholic husband, so where better than at a great Catholic college?"  Yeah, well, good theory, but Catholicism doesn't come with automatic awesomeness.  It'd be nice if it did, wouldn't it?  You may know a person who is Catholic and seemingly devout but has so many character flaws you wish they were atheist so you could "convert" them.  From my view on this campus, Franciscan seems to be the preferred and chosen college for this type of person.

Smoking and drinking are not foreign to this campus.  You have to know the right people in order to get really stoned, but it's not hard to find them – just listen to the right people talking about, well, the wrong people.  Smokers stand outside every building.  …Not constantly, but you'll see a few on a daily basis if you're paying attention.

Smoking is not inherently evil, so far as I can figure (although I hear tell that cigarettes are really, really bad for you).  But it has been my limited experience that most of the guys standing outside in "smoking rings" on a regular basis – cigarettes, cigars, or pipes – are charter members of the group of guys that smart girls are learning not to dream about.

So smoking is directly related to weak character?  Well, no, I can't prove that.  It could be that the majority of the campus male population is of weak character; in which case, it would naturally follow that the campus male smoker population would be largely dominated by this type….  After all, there are plenty of stay-away-from-hims that don't smoke or drink every Friday night.

But that's just a taste of what you'll find on the Franciscan campus.

City on a hill?  Salt of the earth?  Light of the world?  Certainly, all those things.  The Franciscan Friars are so adorable and so powerful and so life changing/challenging.  The witness of a chapel full of young adults singing to God four Masses a Sunday, three a weekday is breathtaking.  Perpetual Adoration, Students for Life, The Harmonium Project, Red Light Ministry… and whatever else we have going on 'round here – sometimes it's hard to keep track of it all.

At the same time, we've got Households that are known more for their off-campus parties than for their spirituality; we have sexual assault investigations and guys banned from certain all-girl's dorms; we've had students kicked out for drug activity; there are Freshman couples hooking up within the first one or two weeks of school and breaking up because one or the other is "struggling with their spirituality;" we're overflowing with flirt action hidden under the pick-up line: "I want to guard your heart."  (See THIS page for campus crime statistics.)

Finding a man on campus?  The majority of the girls in my acquaintance who will be graduated this year are going out into the world without marriage plans, without an engagement ring, without even a boyfriend.  A lot of relationships that happen are not particularly mature or prepared for marriage.  Yes, there is the occasional sophomore marriage – but believe me, it looks more insane than it does romantic.  A lot of people collapse, after a long day here, among their closest friends, and admit, "This place is like high school all over again."

If you want diversity, you won't find it here.  There are only a few black people; most people are moderately chill Catholics split about equally between the charismatics and… not charismatics; a lot of geeks and nerds, as well as geek and nerd wannabes; hardcore partiers and smokers, rebels, and cool people are the severe minority; and then there are the small populations of blatantly "traditional" Catholics and "full-length-skirt-addicts."  Most people more or less dress the same – the jocks and drama queens being pretty much the only exception – and frisbee is the thing.

Babies are cute; friars and other religious are celebrities; discernment into religious life merits a huge celebration; and a day when it isn't raining is everyone's dream.

Oh – and I should mention the huge homosexual community.

In some respects, it's just like any other campus.

But a good girl with all her ideals intact… is more likely to get hurt here.

See, the bad guys here are hidden because everyone goes to Mass, signs up for an Adoration hour, goes to Theology classes, and has some kind of "lightning bolt of providence" story.  And I'm sure these guys are essentially good people – they're just stupid when it comes to relationships.  So they lure you in with tales of their struggles for holiness – and then they just stop talking to you.  Or worse.  (And then the respective Households get involved….  It can be messy.)

Brother-sister relationships abound.  Which I'm happy about – I'm putting together a whole family over here!  But girls actively seeking their knight-in-shining armor get hurt real fast.

So if you're going to college for your MRS degree, you may want to look elsewhere.  I mean, my philosophy is to not look for an MRS degree.  I think they're earned on a basis of merit, not effort.  More like a scholarship.  I like that – a scholarship to life: 'The MRS Scholarship, funded by Heavenly Father.'

But I digress.

Franciscan University has a lot of problems.  And there are days where the only reason I'm still here….  It's Catholic.  And if you are honestly doing your best to follow God and discern His plan for your life, you can find a very supportive and healthy spiritual community here.  For all its flaws, this school is run on the idea that you can leave this place with a stronger relationship with Christ and a solid foundation to fall back on.  So far, I'm finding that part of the school to be excellent (though it obviously isn't perfect).  And I've got a pretty good head on my shoulders and a lot of grace on my side, thank God.

I've slowly been changing my perspective.  I have to assume that I just might not leave this school on the arm of a man.  With that in mind, I think I can get the most out of and give the most to this school.

But yeah, girls shouldn't come here assuming that their degree won't be terribly important when they graduate – it may be the only thing they have to live on when they leave this place.

~Meggy

The Talking Phase

"We're Just Talking"

By JD Gunter

Talking

One of the unique opportunities I have attending seminary, after ten years of marriage, is discipling young men who are single or dating. One of the disadvantages, however, is not being current on the lingo.

This struck me in a recent conversation with a friend who told me he had gone out several times with a young lady and was uncertain about the status of the relationship. Curious, I asked him if he was planning on continuing to date this girl.

“You misunderstand,” he said, “we aren’t dating – we’re just talking.”

“Talking?” I replied, a little confused, “you mean like we’re talking right now.”

“No,” he explained, “we’re at the stage of the relationship just before dating. It’s called talking.”

Dumbfounded and feeling a little old and disconnected, I decided to investigate this new pre-dating phenomenon. “Talking,” I discovered, is a widely accepted stage in current guy/girl relationships wherein a young man and a young woman get to know each other without better defining the relationship. This isn’t even a real stage of the relationship; it’s a pre-stage. They’re not just friends; they’re not really dating or pursuing marriage; they’re “talking.”

After these conversations, I was left with the question: Do we really need another stage in relationships that are directed toward marriage?

Shirking Responsibility

Our culture suffers from a large number of males wallowing around in quasi-manhood for many years. Boys used to grow up, get a job, and move out of the house. But we have inserted this chain of life stages from adolescence, to the college years, to early career, and so on – all of which permit young men to put off growing up, taking responsibility, and generally acting like a man.

This new phase of pre-dating called “talking” is like adolescence for relationships: an unnecessary stage in the relationship allowing young men to avoid taking responsibility and acting like men. It prevents the man from having to be clear about his intentions to pursue or end the relationship. If he wants to stop “talking,” he simply walks away, leaving behind a confused, and potentially wounded, young lady.

John Piper defines biblical masculinity as, “a sense of benevolent responsibility to lead, provide for and protect women in ways appropriate to a man’s differing relationships.”[1] It is the responsibility of the man to take a leadership role in relationships, to be forthright, honest, and clear about his intentions. This “talking” phase normalizes relationship without responsibility; closeness without clarity; cultural manhood, not biblical manhood.

The young ladies I’ve spoken to share this frustration. They are left in a state of relational limbo, where they are unsure of the young man’s intentions and the purpose of the relationship. They are stuck going on non-dates with guys who are scared to date.

In their defense, guys tell me they are afraid to ask a lady out because she might immediately assume he wants to marry her. I understand the concern, but that does not change the need for character – it makes it all the more necessary.

Intentionality Is a Way to Serve Sisters in Christ

First, you should ask girls out that you see as potential wives. Second, when you don’t see her as a potential wife any longer, explain yourself and then stop asking her out. Third, throughout the relationship be clear, upfront, and honest about your intentions. If you just want to get to know her better, tell her so. If you see this relationship turning into something more serious, tell her that too. If you think she’s a great girl but don’t want to pursue the relationship further, tell her! That’s the kind of “talking” that should characterize the relationship.

If things don’t work out, and if you’ve acted like a true man, you’ve gotten to know a sister in Christ better and helped prepare her to meet her future husband. If things do work out, congratulations, you’re married. Those are the only two options for a man of God.

If you are a young man intimidated by the prospect of intentionally pursuing a young woman as a wife, seek the Lord in fervent prayer. Search your heart and your intentions to ensure they are grounded in the gospel and informed by Scripture. With your conscience clear before the Lord and your heart and mind shaped by His word, stand confident in the care of your heavenly Father (and hers) and speak boldly to your sister in Christ. Our God is a God of truth, and your sister in Christ deserves to know the truth from you.

If you are a young lady stuck with a guy who isn’t interested in pursuing you but expects your prolonged time and attention as he “talks” to you, ask yourself if this is the type of indecisive boy-man you want to follow for the rest of your life. It is impossible to follow someone who will not lead. Find a man who will treat you as a sister in the Lord deserves to be treated: with honesty, integrity, and clarity.

It’s time to kiss “talking” goodbye. Our brothers and sisters in Christ deserve better than this.

http://cbmw.org/men/manhood/were-just-talking/