Wednesday, October 26, 2011


So I played around in my doodle pad with rain some... The beginning doesn't match the end of this little thing, because I started really liking the character idea and playing with what I could do with it. So. Character sketch. Incomplete. Just curious to see what you think. Oh, and ich used the i-c-h spelling of 'i', for those of you wondering...


They say it's a pitter-patter. Pain is described with sound and pictures and wandering wishes. For me? Rain is a torment. Gunshots against the roof. A wail of impossible tears. Forgotten dreams pouring from the heavens and hitting the ground with a rhythmic, desperate thunk. It's not the thunder than bother's me; it's the horrible, evil rain.

It is because of the rain ich cower, squeezed within the confines of my blanket and couch. Ich try not to focus on the sound, but it's no use. The sound assaults me, rings in my ears. The curtains are pulled, but it does not matter. It's still there. It's still pounding against the windows, running down and down in rivulets. They wish to cry a river of tears. If that is your wish, just look out the window. Look out the window, because the world cries your tears for you.

And ich cry with the world. Ich cry for you, friends, brothers. Ich cry with the rain and the sorrow and the overwhelming hurt you must feel. A single raindrop for a single hurt. There must be so much pain in this world. Ich feel pity for the world, but ich hate it as well. Ich hate it because you make me cry with you, with the rain, with the world. You give me your hurts, worries and fears, without a thought for my own.

Ich'm afraid of the rain. Ich am the rain. Is that so despicable, to be afraid of myself?



When I think of magic, I don't see spells shooting out of little wooden sticks. I don't see a wizened old wizard with a sea-worn staff clutched in his hands. I don't see three witches spinning over their simmering cauldron. I don't see dragons or fairies or even elves. I don't see a youth, just on the brink of manhood, suddenly thrust into the cutthroat life of a magician. I don't see a sorcerer with his spell book. I don't see colors and lights and complicated incantations. I don't see the black magic, or the white magic, or even purple magic. Have I covered all the cliches? That's just not what magic is. Sure, I have used almost all of those "magics" in my writing, but... I don't know how else to say it. It's not magic.

Magic is a humming bird in flight.
Magic is the hospital hallway. Life is being saved.
Magic is math in nature. Yes, my friends, yes. It is math.
 Magic is how good you feel after a good cry.
Magic is raindrops on a spiderweb. There's a reason one of my stories is tentatively titled Spiderweb Raindrops. =P
Magic is the delicacy in Willow Tree Angels.
Magic is a good expression of geek-humor.
What is magic to you? What do you think of when you see those five simple letters? That one simple word. Magic. Beauty. Wonderful. Amazing. Terrifying. Magic is... Magic is impossible. It's impossible to explain, wonderful to experience, beauty incarnate. What would you say is the ultimate expression of magic? I don't know. There's too many. There's too much wonderful magic in this world to express just one piece of magic. It's overwhelming. But this... This, I suppose. Was the first magic. The grandest. And I'm thankful for it.

"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light. God saw that the light was good." Genesis 1: 1-4a

People. Words. And Self-Centered Mumbo-Jumbo.

It is not easy to go up to someone and ask for them to describe yourself in ten words; even people who you know are not going to see this as fishing for compliments. I found myself floundering, more often than not, wondering whether one of my friends would be bold enough to pick on some of my numerous flaws. Two of my friends, Mig and Washington, both pointed used a word that good be classified as negative, and both times, I predicted the very word, because it was not so much a derogatory comment as it was an inside joke. This project scared me, because out of sixty total words that others used to describe me, none of them were truly negative. What does this say about me and my self-esteem? What does this say about my friends and parents? I do not know; I suppose that was what this project is designed to determine. No matter where the results lead me, I have learned one very specific detail about myself: I would much rather have someone point out my faults than have free reign to describe me.
My father was easier to predict than my mother. Still, only three of my predictions were identical to words that Dad used to describe me. I predicted only one of my mom's words. There's a simple reason for this: I spent more time talking to my dad than everyone but my closest friend. I found it fascinating that the only identical word that both my parents used was “intelligent.” Most of their words had very little to do with the other's list of words. This made me realize that I am two different people around my parents, and I have been ever since they separated almost two years ago. Would their lists have been more similar had I done this before that separation? I do not know, but I think it would have been. Predicting my mom's words, I touched on few of the themes of she said; the only time I really got close was when I predicted “special” and she said “unique.” Some of the words my mom used were especially difficult to predict, because she had never described me as them before. The only way I could hope to predict what my parents and friends were going to say was through past conversations with them, side comments, or various praises they had given me. The more time I had spent talking to a someone, the better than knew me, the closer I got to guessing their words. Given the greater amount of conversation that I have exchanged with Dad, I am not all that surprised that I found it easier to predict what he would say than what Mom would say.
An interesting comparison is between the lists of my Dad and the lists that Kevin, an adult from my church who has become like a mentor to me, had. They shared one specific word and a numerous amount of similar themes. Again, Kevin's words were completely different from that of my mother's. This showed me that I act very similar around my father and Kevin, as opposed how I act around my mom. Both Kevin and my father double checked to see if the words had to be in a list format, and could not have been in the format of a phrase or even a full sentence. They also agreed about how ultimately self-centered this assignment could turn out to be. I found Kevin particularly difficult to predict, even though I correctly predicted two of the words he ended up using. Out of all the people I asked, he and I have spent the least amount of time talking to each other, and in general, most of our conversations was about either my writing or some other work of literature. Kevin, out of everyone, used the most glowingly positive words. This was not something I would have predicted, although, in retrospect, it seems almost likely, because he has interacted with the fewest of my flaws.
Adults aside, I had the most fun doing this project with the friends I asked who were around my age. I asked three of my four closest friends, and attempted to ask the fourth member of that friend group, but he was unavailable. My friends were the easiest to predict, as our respective lists of words were rife with inside jokes such as “oxymoron,” “lion,” and “pest.” My friends were also the hardest to predict, because I had no idea which of the myriad of options they would pursue. I told each of them that any type of word would be allowed: adjective, noun, verb, etc. Mig was the only one to use verbs. Washington consistently stuck to adjectives, although, two her of her adjectives contradicted, creating the oxymoron that Sandy used to describe me. Yeah, this group of friends knows each other too well. Sandy included many words that you would not normally think of for such assignment such as “sound” and “there,” but as I considered it, these were staple in our relationship. I often overshot on the amount of inside jokes they would use, or predicted the wrong inside joke. I would capture the wrong moment, miss a key word by inches, and overall predict the wrong words for what my friends would say. However, it struck me that while only three of my four close friends participated in this particular project, if we were all asked to describe each other in one word, there'd only be one word throughout all of us: hevvratioussontackl. I believe the ability to predict that we'd all say the same thing about each other, is part of what bonds us together into a group of the closest friends I have ever had.
One of the interesting things that I noticed while conducting this experiment was how people reacted to being asked to describe me. My mom wanted to know what the assignment was about, what the words were for, and did she absolutely have to fire them off at the top of her head? She wished that I had asked her twenty-four hours earlier and let her ponder the words. This would have certainly changed the results of the project. Dad rolled his eyes, muttered a comment on the self-centered attitude of high school social psychology, and asked if I was enjoying the course. At my affirmation, he proceeded with the project. Kevin just asked whether or not the words had to be a list and then listed out ten words. Mig, as usual for the two of us, teased me and did the assignment with a grin and a chuckle. Washington and Sandy hesitated a little, both struggling to reach ten words. Sandy said she needed the perfect ten words, and no matter what she said, there would always be some other word that would describe me better. Washington had a similar reaction. These reactions were almost more predictable than the words themselves.
So where do these results leave me? Now I've got a minor project to hand in and a heavily stroked ego? I don't think so. I guess what I've learned from this project is never underestimate yourself from someone else's viewpoint. I'm positive that each and every one of the people who participated in this would be willing to rain down a whole list of faults upon my head, if they viewed it to be a necessity to my growth as a human being. But it is not a necessity, at least for right now. And we, as humans, do not find the need to tell our friends how we find them to be at fault. Friends would rather support than tear down, build rather than destroy; the hesitations within my mom's, Sandy's and Washington's responses support this fact. Hurt happens in the world when people do not take the time and the energy to support and build, finding it easier to be negligent and destructive. With this in mind, I will seek to give an extra amount of energy to the process of building up and supporting the other people in my life.

((What can I say? I SAID it was self-centered mumbo-jumbo!))

Tuesday, October 18, 2011



No. They aren't the same thing. Creativity can be inspired. Nowadays, originality is just plain... abnormal. Unfortunately.

The thing is, my creativity has been a bit stunted today.



I'm going to go kill my brain some more by watching TV. Have fun now.

Monday, October 17, 2011



Simple enough for you, eh?

No. Of course not.

Potassium. K.

Sodium. Na.

Iron. Fe.

Silver. Ag.

Antimony. Sb.

Why can't it just be normal?! In all honesty, I shouldn't complain about this. I've got a pretty solid foundation for the definition of the different elements. I know that Flourine is F and not Fl. I know which one is H, Hydrogen or Helium. I know that the simple, easy to remember ones are Oxygen, Sulfur, Phosphorus (not that I can spell it), Boron, Carbon, Flourine, Hydrogen, Vanadium, Iodine, Yttrium (not that I can spell it either), and Nitrogen. At least, those are the really easy ones. Potassium isn't hard once you know it's... K.

I don't get Xenon, though. I mean, it is the only x. Why don't they just use x?! I mean, it would be so much simpler, and it's the only element that starts with an X. Is it that hard to differentiate between the variable of an equation and that of an elemental definition. Sigh. The system is so messed up. But it's fun too. And some of them do make sense. Argon. Bromine. Aluminum. Helium. Calcium. Beryllium. Neon. Cobalt. Nickel. Gallium. Silicon. Germanium. Krypton. Those. Those are just the first two letters.

I'm beginning to hate Magnesium and Manganese, by the way. Mg and Mn respectively.

But... But... WHY is Copper Cu?! Grumbles. That's my least favorite. Because it's close... but not close. Stupid old copper.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Hakuna Matata

Sandy. Look away. Spoilers.

Or really anyone, if you haven't seen the Lion King or Tangled. 

It's scary how many people know me as that now. And most of my close friends, that's their first impression of me. I mean, I was expecting to change it pretty soon after I changed from Pendulum to become Hakuna Matata. Actually, I think only about three people remember me ever being Pendulum. And I don't think anyone remembers my name when I first joined the OYAN forum. I guess what's also scary is how having the username of Hakuna Matata has influenced me.

For one thing, Matt is one of my acceptable nicknames. I look up when people call other people that. Tams. Tatas. Kunas. That's all me. But it all comes from two Swahili words that happen to mean "No Worries." It's weird again how I disagree with the No Worries philosophy. I mean, even Simba disagrees with it, in the end. =P But, yeah. I could be all theorectical and say I put it there to remind myself always to learn from the past as a kind of counter-intuitive, but that's just... reflection and hindsight. Honestly I just picked it because it was a fun collection of letters from a fun movie.

Lion King wasn't even one of my favorite movies back then; I didn't appreciate it as much. But now I do. It was amazing in three-d, by the way. It was like the animators of that movie knew that the 3D technology was going to become available, and then they animated the Lion King to be ready for transformation into 3D practically instantaneous. It was great. Lasseter's going a great job with Disney. They had a great 50th film (Tangled). And it's just... Lasseter's great.

I had a dream about that. I was eating dinner with a bunch of movie directors like Lasseter and Bruckheimer and some others. George Lucas kept trying to make me eat Turkish Delight. Which I despise. But yeah. In the dream, Lasseter and I got in a discussion about Tangled, and he said he agreed with me that Flynn Ryder should have died, but that Disney made him do otherwise. Siiiiigh. The perfect dream, ruined. They should have at least killed Pascal. Someone should have died. Still. It was one of the best Disney endings, ever. Ah. Disney. Pixar. Fun animation. Rock on.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

6 Introspective-ish Drabble-ness

1. Crazed
Most of my favorite memories involve orange, tablecloths, and nillas. And then there was the Skittle Wars, which were some of the weirdest things ever. I'd like to say that we actually ate the skittles, but they ended to be used as projectiles, mostly. We would load the skittle gun and have pitched battles between who ruled the Skittle-world. Or we'd just fight over the skittles. I rarely had to lift a finger in those battles. My friends always supported me. We were crazed, certainly, but it was a good kind of insanity. Thank you guys.

2. Frustration
It's so easy to talk for hours about what frustrates you the most. That scares me. I'm not a grateful person, but I want to be. So can I talk about the reverse of frustration and talk about what envigorates and encourages me? I suppose so, I mean, it is my blog. And I've just stared at this doc for a full thirty seconds trying to figure out what encourages me. Uh oh. I guess I need to work harder, neh? I'll get better. It'll get easier. And that thought keeps me going. Yay.

3. Peculiar
Cheesecake and mushrooms. My brother loves cheesecakes and hate mushrooms. I hate cheesecakes and love mushrooms. Bob and I are so different and yet so similar to each other that it's almost unfathonable. We're not the most peculiar pair of siblings, besides for the fact that we were constantly around each other that most siblings don't have to deal with. I just... I don't get him. I love the kid, I do. But it's hard to relate. I wish that wasn't so peculiar. He also doesn't like paprika. HOW?! How can anyone not like paprika?

4. Misunderstood
If I look out the window into the yard across the street from one of the houses, there's a little miniature garden in yard, and a rock in the garden. I don't like that rock. It looks like a dead baby turkey. And yes, I've checked. It's not an actual dead baby turkey. Why are there rocks shaped like such? Is God just setting stuff up to be mistaken for something else? Is that what God does with people? Because I feel so misunderstood sometimes, and I really don't want to be seen as the ugly dead turkey rock.

5. Gadget
There's so many wonderful things about gadgets. And then there's the History channel special that listed duct tape as the number 100 as a countdown of the most important gadgets in history. 100! Duct tape should have been like... number five. Guess what number five was. The lightbulb. Yes. Seriously. The number one most important gadget in history and they rate it at number five. Rated as more important than the light bulb were the alarm clock and syringes. Seriously. History channel just doesn't know it's gadgets. But Doctor Who does: “Gadget. Gadget.”

6. Uniform
If there's one thing to say about shoes, it would be that they aren't uniform. They just... aren't. I used to sleep with shoes. I used to love shoes. I'd never know a person's face, but I know what kind of shoes they were wearing. That aspect of me faded away after awhile, but it rekindled over last school year, especially because I'd walk though the school ways looking at people shoe's and not their faces, because while shoes may not be uniform, they're more uniform than people's faces. More uniform. More forgiving. People scare me. Shoes don't.

Friday, October 14, 2011


People collect weird things. Like stamps. Model planes. Toys. Gum wrappers. Paintings. Guns. Campaign buttons. Books. Stuffed animals. "White-man"-scalps. Keys. Photos. Video games. Baseball cards. Cars. Stuff like that. Stuff like everything. Mine's one of the weirder ones. And it's not really an active collection. Just kind of a passive collection. And I'm not even sure why.

But yeah. You don't know anyone else who collects pencil shavings, do you?

Or am I just special like that?

It's not like I do anything with them. I've got enough pencils... I've got the sharpeners. I'd like to dry and do some pencil shaving pictures, but right now, all my shavings are currently sitting in a decorative trashcan, metaphorically catching dust. Okay. They're probably literally collecting dust. And what am I going to do with a bunch of pencils shavings other than pour them over someone's head at a wedding? That's what my thousand paper cranes. are for. Although... I only have 304 swans on my strings right now. I've folded a bazillion more than that, but only 304 for the actual project of folding a thousand paper cranes.

These pictures aren't mine, by the way. I'm only using them because I'm not a picture taker myself and these collections happen to be at Dad's house. Which I'm not at right now. And can you tell I just figured out how to put pictures in this thing? =P Silly really, given how simple it is. But I'm just not a picture person. Oooh. I also have a small key collection, too. That's just starting though. It takes a long time to collect keys. Both of my grandparents collect keys. I've seen one of the collections. It's huge. And there was a key that said "KEIL" on it. I have a character named Keil.

He got a big head. =P

So those are my collections. Keys. Paper cranes. Pencil shavings. Normal. Slightly abnormal. Bizarre.

Thursday, October 13, 2011


I despise crows.


They're evil birds. Evil, I tell you. There's one right outside my window... on the grass... staring up at me like some great monster from a story of the undead. And a raven is supposed to be a harbinger of death. Ha. Crows are a lot worse. They're like little monsters sent by vampires to wake everyone up in the mornings with vicious causes of certain death. Well, wakefulness, but at 5:30am, wakefulness pretty much is a form of death. A couple of days ago, we had a giant flock of crows outside, there must have been at least thirty of the beasts.

I almost grabbed Bob's BB gun and went and shot them.

I'm fairly certain I would have gotten in trouble for that.

The only plus side I've ever found for crows is that there's a character in one of my very favorite books named Crow. Well. Actually, her name is Berthe Erica and only her last name is Crow. Everyone just calls her Crow though. And this book also has a character named Turtle. Well... Tabitha-Ruth "Alice" Wexler, but she's still just called Turtle. And turtles happen to be my favorite animal. How is that such an epic book would have characters named for both my favorite and my least favorite animal? I don't know. Ellen Raskin is just that good. The book is the The Westing Game, by Ellen Raskin. And you really should read it, if you haven't.

So I think I'm back. After being blog-dead through May, most of June, July, August, and September, I might actually pull this thing back from the obscurities of nothingness. No promises though.

Now the crows are cawing again.


Don't go get the BB gun.

Don't go get the BB gun.

Don't go get the BB gun.

Can't. Shoot. Innocent. Crows.