Hnnnng

Oh man. I don't get what it is about FFXIV but it seems like anything related to that game makes people bitch. They'll bitch, and acutely. Yesterday they changed the craft system because it wasn't working right (apparently, I never had trouble) so now you have to do standard synths instead of rapid synths. Literally you can just click one button instead of another. I failed maybe 4 more synths than I normally do and people are threatening to quit over this.
YOU WANNA GIVE IT A DAY, ASSHOLES?
I guess I don't understand this whole attitude of needing your infantile whims fulfilled at every moment. It'll work and you'll get your rapid synths back if you give it ten fucking minutes, Jesus.
Anyway today we have "The Pen Is Mightier... than the sword" which I always thought was a sketchy saying. Hey, hey, if the pen is mightier than the sword why do actions speak louder than words?
The truth is everyone says this shit to avoid having a thought for once.

What inspires you in life? What makes you want to reach for the stars and do something truly extraordinary?

I guess sheer force of will does. I mean really anything you do is pointless so the only reason to do anything at all is because you want to do it.

Child-like wonder, I guess you could call it. I may be twenty-eight, but I can't help but see magic and beauty and mystery in almost everything I encounter.

You're 28. You're posting on Livejournal about how much your job sucks. You don't have wonder about anything.
"Child-like wonder" goes alongside "child at heart" as one of the douchiest things you can say and one of the most misleading things, too. What's with all this desire to be a child again?
Yeah, remember when nothing made sense and you couldn't do shit? Oh yeah, let me go back to those times.
Shit motherfucker, you can get in your car, partake in the MIRACLE OF HUMAN FLIGHT and be in another fucking country tomorrow if you wanted to. Tell your job to get fucked and adventure across India.
Let's see a kid do something like that.

Okay, long time no post, but I've got a fun story to share from my adult ESL class last night.

Oh this'll be fun. Let me tell my horror story after to bring the audience down.

Well, one of the topics was "Phobias" and when asked, I explained that a phobia is when you are afraid of something--very afraid.

That's not a phobia, idiot. If I'm "very afraid" of the man with a gun pointed to my face in the bank I'm not being phobic. A phobia is pathological, that is, there's a cause outside of normal fight-or-flight responses.

I guess you can't unload all this on people learning English but that's no excuse to be inaccurate.
Now, I may be a bit conservative on what I let my six and eight-year-olds watch, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who watched the trailers for Avatar and never thought what a wholesome children's movie it would be--although, apparently McDonald's did. Or maybe they just had a falling out with Disney.

Making toys for the highest grossing film of all time or another modern Disney animated flop.
Gee, McDonald's sure has no marketing sense.

(And note that I do differentiate between Vanity Press, which is predatory business, and Self-Publishing, which can be a legitimate option in a variety of situations.)

IF YOU HAD THAT MUCH TALENT YOU WOULDN'T NEED TO SELF-PUBLISH.

mood: infuriated

What exactly is our identity? An amalgamation of all our past experiences, our opinions, our reason and passion, our personality and physical attributes, or are we merely a sum of numbers, facts and details kept in a file logged somewhere in the depths of that soulless pit we call bureaucracy?

Well, really, if the movement and actions of atoms is highly regular and can be predicted and our brains are made up of nothing but atoms then freewill pretty much cannot exist, but on the other hand as you increase the number of interactions between atoms (and increase the number of atoms) the probability of an accurate prediction decays so I suppose--

Which of these definitions does today's society adhere to if something like our identity is so easy to steal?

I don't think you understand how identity theft works. They just pretend to be you to get to your money. They're not actually pretending to be you because your life is so crazy awesome.

I think in a culture like ours that celebrates the individual it is doubly atrocious to violate someone's sense of self by stealing their identity, an act on par with rape

Oh we're talking about society or something I guess.
I'm just amazed a woman was prepared to compare something to rape. Usually that's reserved for the worst crimes imaginable, and women (the people most likely to be raped if I may say so) should be extra reserved in using it for analogies.
It kind of goes back to what I said Wednesday: people immediately go to the top shelf of words to describe an emotional state because the fact is they don't feel that much and cannot properly express themselves so HUGE WORDS THAT SOUND REALLY EMOTIONAL replace actual thought.

in that it robs a person of not only their private information, but of their reputation, leaving behind a ravaged virgin whose lost innocence can never be regained, who cannot get to sleep at night because the nightmarish terror that their tormentor, their violator will return.

I'm really confused. Are we talking about identity theft (the crime) or are we talking about some kind of metaphysical "identity theft" society somehow does to you?

I understand that fear well. As a teenager I had a male family member harass me in a way that only my father's fortuitous intervention prevented from being rape.

I guess the latter, but I thought this was as bad as rape?
Now it's literally rape, I guess.

I have certainly forgiven this family member, and I'd thought I'd put those painful feelings behind me, until this morning when I investigated the arrival of a receipt for a paid traffic ticket from a county I've never heard of apparently issued to someone with a very similar name, using my information.

So it is identity theft (the crime). You seem to be confusing the actions of society with the actions of an individual. America does indeed respect the self-made man and all that shit, which is why if you notice identity theft is a heavily-punished crime.

It hurts to think I've been reduced to nothing but a series of numbers on a state issued card, and that my sense of peace and self can be so easily shattered by some uncaring and inconsiderate person's actions.

So it is a societal thing I guess. Holy fuck. Well, of course they issue a number. Do you want to organize the logistical nightmare of alphabetizing 400,000,000 people?
What about all the people with the same name?

Who we are is a fragile thing, like a butterfly.

Oh don't be so dramatic, Jesus Christ.

He stepped on a land mine in the war, The War, WWII, fighting in Europe; and spent the next two years in hospitals until they got rid of the osteomylitis by amputating from the knee down.

Oh well fuck this cunty blog, let's read his blog instead!
I bet he's not whining about identity theft or whatever. Fucker stepped on a landmine in France while being shot at by Germans, I think he's been through worse.

After his terms were up, he went into private practice and has represented people or offered legal advice up until his pace-maker failed at the age of ninety, an event he miraculously survived.

NOTHING CAN KILL THIS MAN.

It's past Wednesday, and it's not quite Friday. But I am glad it's almost over. Thursdays are my longest days

Start the long and arduous process (which I'm not getting paid for, incidentally, so my intentions must be pure) to teach English to disadvantaged youths in a high school that doesn't even have air conditioning in the morning then go to a class at 4 where I'm yelled at for not being culturally sensitive.
No, great. Really.

no, a pencil isn't and has never been considered a respectable dueling weapon

Well people are pussies and outlawed dueling so what can you do?
Every single honorable, manly means of resolving a conflict have been taken from you and people wonder why there are lawsuits out the ass now.

Granted attendance isn't what it would be if it were mandatory,

Man I wish attendance weren't mandatory on Thursday. But nope, instead I have to listen to this one cunt in particular extol the virtues of being liberal while interning in the most advantaged school in the county.
Tool. Somehow I bet he's more racist than me despite being the "most sensitive to the issue".
Oh right, this.

I brought a revision to a short story I've been playing with called "The Lawn Knight".

Not to be confused with The Green Knight, who was endlessly awesome.
Name... Ten better stories than Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
So it's about this pussy named Gawain, right, and this Green Knight comes in and challenges one of Arthur's court to a duel but none of them want to accept because they're partying and a beheading kind of puts a damper on the festivities. Eventually Gawain is kind of guilted into dueling. The Green Knight gives Gawain the first attack, so Gawain beheads him. Instead of being butthurt and dying the Green Knight just walks over and picks his head up.
The rule was, then, that the Green Knight would get a return attack in one year, and much of the story is the ensuing quest during that interim year.
Well, I've officially created a LiveJournal now. I guess I'll put up an interesting link or two for you to enjoy.
Speaking of beheadings I think I'm going to go make some gladius blades in FFXIV.
Someone has to supply the endless engine of war, hey.
This is a gladius, for those of you who didn't know. The manliest sword ever.

Yeah yeah yeah

Today we have another one of them writing-types. This one fancies herself a real author, too, with a reputation that can tarnish and everything. Considering I know everything about everything and I've never heard of her someone is living a deluuuuuusion.

Right now, one of my sisters is in Fairbanks at the State Meet for track. She's doing the triple jump today, long jump tomorrow. I'm hoping she does well. If she isn't first in state for the long, she will be impossible.

Uh-huh.

Another one of my sisters is in Utah, where today her fiance is getting his port removed and a central line put in. He's got a bone marrow transplant going on, because he's had cancer.

Oh. How does bone marrow transplant and cancer get less screen time than the long jump?
Perhaps not what I'd focus on but then again I'm not a real author like you so what do I know?

And my last sister is undergoing a road trip with her friend, because driving up to see our littlest sister (4'11 3/4 on a good day) long jump at state is worth six hours in a car with your best friend.

Do short people do well on the long jump? I imagine you'd want tall people because there's less of a height difference between you and the bar, but then again short people would have less to get over the bar so maybe--

And me?

I'm working on a potentially dangerous manuscript.

What, is it the Necronomicon or the Libre Chaotica? It poses some sort of threat to your sanity of the very fabric of reality?

It is about as reputation-tarnishing as it gets for someone who writes horror and adventure and everything unromantic and unfeminine.

... Twilight?
If you're writing Twilight I have some bad news.

In fact, it's even worse than that lame-o princess novel, and we all know what I thought about that.

Ah yes, we all know about that, don't we people?

Technically, it's a sequel to the Ellis story I wrote and didn't tell anyone about because I was ashamed to have written it. But that's only very technically.

How the fuck do you "technically" have a sequel? Either it is or it isn't. That's one of those things where there is no gray area, really.
I guess she'd be one to argue it's "in the same universe as her previous story" yeah well guess what: fuck you. That's not a sequel and only litfag nerd faggots argue about shit like that anyway.

Mathletics, an exploration of intelligence in high school, and possibly a dash of tutor/student relations stirred together in a girl's attempt to cope with having two math teachers for parents, and a set of best friends named after characters from Lord of the Rings.

Named after characters from Lord of the Rings? What kind of parent is going to torture their kid with names like Boromir or Imrahil? That's what all the names are like, by the way. They're all some sort of bizarre mix up of Irish and Welsh.
It works in a universe where everyone has crazy names but--
no, no, why am I still talking about this?

I have three younger sisters and they're all really very pretty.

I really care about whatever the fuck it is I'm about to read.

One of them has this amazing curly hair, and another has the most toned body ever--she's a size two or something and has these wide light brown eyes. The last looks a lot like our mother, except the whole lip piercing, but hey, her fiancee has cancer. I can't blame her for the bad fashion choice just now.

Wow.
Wow.
Her fiance (one e one day you morons will learn this) has cancer and you choose that opportunity to attack her fashion sense.
What a bunch of passive aggressive bullshit. That's really mean-spirited, and that's saying a ton coming from someone who frequently tells people to kill themselves.

My mom was all sorts of popular, when she was younger. Sewed like a goddess,

Goddesses are well known for sewing-- err.
I guess the Fates are, but outside of that I don't really recall Athena or Aphrodite taking up the needle in their spare time.

My sisters all inherited some permutation of that gene, and I've always felt really disappointed that all I got was her bad eye sight, instead. Being told that I'm awkward or write horrible monster crap has kind of been my thing for the past twenty years or so.

Oh, okay. You're the ugly sister. I guess that explains why you magnify anything bad that happens in their lives because to you that's justified.
Oh but that's okay, you'd probably argue. You were gifted (like it is popularly believed) with something inside that's better or somehow missing in them. Yeah well that's a pointless argument. The fact is you are jealous.

Being pretty was theirs. I've always felt like the awkward, maladjusted sister, mostly because they've told me as much my entire life.

And it's true, apparently.

I'm still a writer. And sharing the amazing parts of life is just as important as sharing the parts that make me uncomfortable or provoke my muses into gray-scaled disaster. It's all part of that human condition thing.

You know the Muses, at least classically, don't like people with an ego.

It's 3:00 a.m. and neither of my room-sharing sisters are asleep.

So?

One is scribbling madly in a notebook (literally doodling circles) while watching Moulin Rouge and the other is trying to teach herself to solve a Rubik cube.

Soooo zany xD

Since the younger one's friend committed suicide, she's been sleeping oddly, if at all. She's been more erratic, but tonight tops it so far. She's not planning on sleeping, because she "can't sleep."

All right pro writer, I'm ready for some sort of interior exploration now.

The other sister has no obligations, no responsibilities, and no job. She's just drifting, so the lack of sleep while she tries to find a place doesn't bother her.

All right, pro writer, I'm ready for some sort of interior exploration--

My third sister is no doubt asleep in bed after a hard day's work, followed by helping take care of her fiance (who has cancer, and pretty much needs all the care she can give).

My sisters are all in fairly rough places, right now. I understand that they're really struggling with things.

That's it? "They're really struggling with things"?
Look, kid, I'm not saying you had to go full romantic on me and spend an entire book on this but some sort of glimpse into the ol' heart makes people want to care about your characters and not, well, not give a shit.
You know if you were really good at this writing thing you could have worked in some sort of implication about your sisters instead of breaking off into a paragraph of exposition but that is asking a lot of someone in Livejournal.

Sweet dreams, world, and if any of you should stumble upon a magic cure, please do feel free to pass it long.

Now I can't get that Eurythmics song out of my head.

Would I like musicals as much as I do if I had any talent or aptitude of my own?

That's an interesting question.
It's probably like magic, actually. Once you know what the illusion is you're amazed you missed it the entire time.

Today, I read a book that was so beyond my own personal abilities.

Huh you're going to have to tell me what that's like sometime.

It's burned into my brain, the amazing overwhelming level of awesome. It used to be, so many books astounded me. So many of them were brilliant. Wonderful.

I didn't mean now, Christ.

It’s easy to start the novel with a character already badly damaged from a traumatic life. They hate the world. They’re jaded. They’re cynical.

It's easy to start off with a low point. You know, instead of introducing the characters, building up some sort of relationship with the audience and then bringing out the tragic shit it's easier just to bypass all that and start with the whining.
I cannot believe how bad people are at this whole storytelling thing in 2010.
Stephen King is turning in his grave.

Look, isn’t it interesting what trauma does to a character?

Not really if your characters are all whiny sad sacks.

And anyway, isn’t it easier to relate to a character that is lamenting about the hardships they’ve undergone?

NOOOOOOO. It's easier to relate to characters that act like people. Jesus fuck are you really this clueless at everything?

It’s a lot more difficult to create a fully-fleshed character, living in the now, working through issues they’re only just now beginning to face.

You're trolling me. I got it.

Explain it to me, if you can, because I see it again and again, and everyone tells me it's more interesting, more exciting.

I just don't see it.

Ha, ha, youuuu.
Well on that note I'm going to go do something not so headache-inducing.

A book? Posted on LiveJournal?

How preposterous!
This is Priscilla Shay's journal. It's always more personal for me when I know the person's name. You know, Priscilla, there's an adult bookstore near me called Priscilla's. Just thought I'd share, since you're a Priscilla in the book business as well.
So let's see how Priscilla twirls her pen (double entendre).
It starts, like all books do, with a dedication. Or, I guess, more properly, all books start with a title, but that's none of my business in this case.

I would like to dedicate this book to…

all my beloved Elements. I love you all and remember:

Void is nothing but everything all the same.
Air surrounds me.
Fire comforts me.
Metal keeps me strong.
Light leads my way.
Earth nurtures me.
Water sustains me.

I don't know what kind of fucked up alchemical theory she subscribes to, but I've never heard "light" mentioned as one of the elements. It's usually a cycle of four or five, usually water, fire, air and earth, occasionally void is thrown in there.

I would also like to thank Newman, Normango and Shakespeare.

(Welcome to the world of inside jokes. I am queen!)
Thank you to all you for being there for me and putting up with my insanity and uncertainty.

Love you all! Hope you like it…

I'd just dedicate a book to my mom and dad, but I'm not the great visionary you are, apparently.

I can already tell this book is going to be atrocious.

Prologue

March 10, 1814

What, opening with a letter? I'm going to have to check my calendar-- yes, it's 2008. You no longer have to pretend it's real life so the literary elite will be tricked into thinking it's not one of those new-fangled novellas. But whatever I'll roll with it.

British nobility, what a night to behold!

Considering it's 1814 I don't think you'd have to specify British nobility since it's probably implied that only a few people would be reading whatever it is you've posted, but all right.

According to Lady P, a certain Marquis left her quarters rather late in the night and heavily into his cups. But, apparently not too pissed to attend the annual King’s ball. Upon his arrival, the commotion began. What was a splendid night for dancing and charming became a ruckus. He arrived four hours late, and of course, not quietly.

I found the opening sentence ungainly. At first I was about to say "marquis aren't women" but then I realized "she" was the aforementioned "Lady P".

Bursting into the room, screaming at the top of his lungs, said Marquis made his way over to the guest of honor for the night. None other than Prinny. Prinny, a bit into his own cups, turned and welcomed the babbling Marquis. The second the honorable Marquis came in reach of the Prince Reagent, he shoved him to the ground. Treasonous, no? Grounds for hanging?

A marquis pushing a Reagent probably wouldn't be grounds for a hanging. I'm going to have to assume you knew this and the person writing this letter didn't. Seems odd someone with enough clout in the well-to-do circles to be printing such a piece of gossip wouldn't, but whatever.

Apparently not. As the Marquis tackled Prinny, a shot rang out. What may have sent England in search of a new leader turned out to be the embodiment of a national hero. Applause my lord, applause. (That is, if he remembers any of it in the morning.)

So this marquis pushes the prince (uhh, why?) but someone had the misfortune to attempt an assassination right then and missed because of it.
That's it. Well it's certainly not the worst thing I've ever read, but that's about all it has going for it. Utterly unimaginative. I can't tell the principle characters yet, but they seem cliched and hackneyed already. Already it's written in an assumed Victorian mode of speech with no real thought given to how Victorians actually wrote and spoke. I've read a number of Victorian stories, and none of them use the term "pissed". Doesn't mean they don't. It isn't my area of knowledge so for all I know outside what would admittedly be, at most, one hundred Victorian stories, they use it constantly.
So going earlier:

I'm going to post the prologue and Chapter One (open to everyone) on Friday night.

Guess chapter one is none of my business too.

Then I'll update every 5-7 days, posting it as private and only those on the selected buddy list will be able to view it. If there are late comers :) message me and I'll add you <3

Uhh... If I were a real dick, I'd make an account, get her to add me, then reproduce each chapter for a scathing review. I'll have to weigh the effort-potential pay off for this. Somehow I imagine this would be a bit only I'd be interested in.

I got to see one of my friends from high school who (who or whom??) I haven't seen in FOR-EV-ER!!!

If you're writing in the Victorian mode you're really going to have to get your basic grammar down. It's whom. Also it should be "hadn't seen in forever", not "haven't seen in forever". The sentence starts in the past tense and "haven't" is present tense, and your tense has to stay the same. Come on.
Now there's something written in font so small I can't even read it.

Yes, I transitioned here because i have more control over who reads what I write and who doesn't, but please bear with me as I add restrictions.

Huh. Not the mark of someone who is confident in their writing, I think. What happened is you posted this on, what was it-- fictionpress.com, but it was terrible and quite a few people told you so so now you're here where you can surround yourself with sycophants and people too stupid to know the difference.
Then she lists some rules to reading this story (yeah that's right, there are rules):

1) Please enjoy my stories.

2) Please do NOT steal my stories.

3) I appreciate constructive criticism and reviews.

4) If you have suggestions, please feel free to voice them.

5) I will be monitoring who reads my entries, so be aware I will be able to track you down.

6) Again...Enjoy :)

Rule 1 is completely unreasonable. How can I agree to something like that when I have no idea how I'll react? It might be the best thing I've ever read in which case no problem, but from what I have seen so far I doubt it.
Rule 2 is no problem. Most thieves only steal things of material or intrinsic value.
Rule 3 is a flat out fuck me lie. If you were looking for constructive criticism you wouldn't be blocking most of your potential readers.
Rule 4 is just stupid. You're writing a novel here. You should know where it's headed better than your readers. Unless you mean suggestions for wording in such, in which case this is rule 3 again.
Rule 5 is a threat. I'm not really sure what she's threatening, though. I guess if I spam her comments section she'll find me somehow (again, how?) and do something mean to me. But since she lists her location New York and I doubt she has the tools on LiveJournal (or the skill to use them if they are there) to figure out my location based on my IP address, I'll just have to take comfort in the fact I'm a considerable distance from her.
That's it. That's the entire blog. Apparently she just started.
So for the first time ever I'm asking for reader feedback. Do I pursue this invite route and make this a weekly bit? Or do I fuck the whole thing and go back to random acts of hostility towards people I don't know and will indeed never meet?
READ THIS: I had this entry in reserve for some reason. It's quite a few days old but I found it good enough to be released into the wild so enjoy your (slightly belated) entry.