Today's Stranded Car Adventure

People have been so nice to me today.  My car died on me on my way home from school earlier this afternoon.  I had just gassed it up.  After I gassed it up, I stopped in at McDonald's in the same area to get myself something to drink.  I was debating over what to get to keep me until I got home.  I considered getting a smoothie, but I saw the sweet tea was only a dollar.  I think my dad's frugal nature makes me choose the cheapest options whenever possible.  That same nature usually makes me opt out of getting anything and just driving home.  Yet, my intuition said to park and pick up a drink after fueling up my car.  So I listened and strangely enough, I ended up having that nice tea to drink while waiting to be rescued.

In any case, I turned into the left lane and didn't get very far before my car died.  Coincidentally, a girl I knew with some kids in a stroller happened upon the median where I was stranded.  We had a short conversation and she asked me about the recent Magic convention that I had just worked at last week.  Luckily, a chivalrous man offered to push my car into the residential area that happened to be right next to where I broke down.  He even helped me turn the steering wheel before pushing the car across the three lanes of traffic into the residential area.  There had been a child in his car when he stopped to help me.  That child helped him push the car as well.  Once it was in the residential area, I yelled, "Thank you" and coasted on the slant of the road in the residential area to get farther into the area.  Thank you, Gravity.

Then, I parked my car, put on my flashers, raised the car hood, and sat on the sidewalk in the shade drinking a bottle of water I had grabbed earlier from campus on a whim that "it is always good to have water in the desert just in case" and also drinking my McDonald's sweet tea I had literally just purchased before having my car break down.  While sitting there, an older man offered to call his mechanic if I ended up waiting there too long.  A younger man came out of his apartment and offered me a bottle of water.  Since I had one already, I turned down the water he offered and thanked him for his kindness.  Three other men offered me their assistance, but I assured them that my father was on his way.  I waited for my dad to arrive.  When he got there, I explained what the gauges did and how the car made a noise before it died (last words if you will).  He looked under the hood, had me try to start it, and then took me home.

We went back later to fetch the car.  I helped him push the car to face in the other direction while Mom steered it while in neutral.  Then, my dad hooked up the tow rope connecting my car to his van.  He steered and did the brakes in my car while my mom drove the van to tow the car home.  It's fortunate that they are professionals at this sort of thing.  I'm glad that I could assist in the operation even a little bit.  I'm used to helping when pushing cars home without tow ropes and with other cars.  This was an interesting experience.  I was surprised that the operation went so smoothly.  Roping cars together seems old-fashioned to me, but it works.  That is a testament to the talents of my parents.

I'm relieved that the car is back home.  In the end, I'm really happy that so many kind strangers were willing to help me.  I didn't even look skanky or anything.  In fact, I was very conservatively attired for such a hot day.  Perhaps there is hope for the world if there are still nice people out there.

Plea for the Preservation of the Imagination

Plea for the Preservation of the Imagination: 
Who wants to live without an active imagination? There are so many extraordinary ideas that come from the human imagination.  Must we turn our backs on it to survive and face reality?
We must defend the human imagination against the tyranny of reality.  In the end, it will be imaginations working together that will save us from the various disasters that strike the planet.  When the oil runs out, it will be alternative energy technologies that started out as ideas in the imaginations of engineers.  When the sun dies, it will be the imaginations of the space experts that will relocate the human race to another planet or demoted planet (poor Pluto).  When the resources run out or times are tough, it is the imaginations of writers (many of them brilliant, revered, and dead) that will give people affordable vacations from reality so they don't blow their brains out.  If nothing else can be preserved for the future, let that one thing be the imagination with it's creativity, adaptability, and genius.

The Humble Killer Who Really Wanted To Be An Artist

            There once was a man who lived in a rather strange building.  He lived on the ground floor of this black wooden house.  The house itself was 3 stories, but his apartment had the entire height of the 3 stories.  The reason for this was that he used his apartment as his workspace.  He had been “discovered” by this creepy-looking sorcerer who had shoulder-length blond hair and a bald top of head.  In this way, he looked like the Crypt Keeper and Hulk Hogan made a baby and this was the man this baby became.

            This sorcerer would come over for 3 hours everyday.  His apprentice, the man mentioned earlier, looked very different in comparison with the Sorcerer.  He was a brunette who could have been mistaken as an All-American football player with his charming lady-killer smile at the start of the training.  As time wore on, he grew leaner and he let his hair grow longer to shoulder-length.  He never ended up balding on the top of his head (Thank God), but there was something peculiar about his manner.  It wasn’t really describable in an obvious way, but it seemed he gave off an air of restless sorrow.

            Inside this strange man’s apartment, he had an office in the left corner.  When you walked into his apartment, you were struck by the oddness of the shed-like greenhouse within a house as an office.  The front walls of this office were see-through like a greenhouse.  There was no door, so the middle doorway of the office stood open for anyone to see its contents.  In the center of the office, a rigid wooden ladder hung vertically leading up to a wooden door on the office roof.  The office roof was made of a dark brown wood and it slanted forward and downward towards the inhabitant entering his apartment.

            The reason this man was able to have his own apartment outright was because he came from a rich family called the Starlarkovs.  He took the allowance from his family to keep up his living expenses and he would do odd jobs for the sorcerer training him to make extra money.  Specifically, the Sorcerer taught this man, Evan, how to fly and use outer forces for assassinations.

            Every once and awhile, the Sorcerer would bring political figures to Evan’s apartment, leave them, and indicate that the person he left needed to be killed by winking at Evan.  In the beginning, Evan used to look uncomfortable after seeing the wink.  But after a decade, he managed to keep a straight face and calmly watch the Sorcerer leave.

            When the Sorcerer left, Evan would make conversation.  Just as the walking dead person was about to leave, he would tell a joke or sometimes multiple jokes for a tough customer.  Evan felt it was good-natured to help someone laugh before they died.  At the height of the visitor’s laughter, he would abruptly grab their throat and fly straight into the ceiling at a force of great magnitude.  Since he made sure the visitor’s head hit the ceiling at an angle, the person’s neck would snap instantaneously.  Often, it was so unexpected, that the visitor was still laughing as they breathed their last breath.

            After the kill, Evan would just lay the body in the middle of the floor.  He would straighten out the arms, legs, and body.  Evan did this so when rigor set in, it would be easy for the Sorcerer to put the body into a bag and lug it away over his shoulder.  The Sorcerer would always say as he left, “You’re so efficient, Evan.  That’s why I value you so much as my pupil.”

            Even though, the Sorcerer trained Evan to kill people, Evan used his skills to practice other eccentricities.  Evan had always wanted to be an artist.  Specifically, he would carve and paint wooden dolls.  He had trouble with inspiration sometimes, so he developed a ritual.  On days he was an artist, he would climb up to the top of his office roof, sit, and work.  He installed a wooden shelf to his apartment wall above his office space to hold the supplies he needed for carving and painting.  Since he had mastered forces, he was able to sit up there in balance for an infinite amount of time.

            On days when he felt he was done with a piece, he would hire a butler to assist him.  He would drop his doll from the office roof and watch it fall along the right side of his office wall.  It was a 15-foot drop.  The doll would land and often roll away a little.  Then, Evan would step off the office roof to follow the doll.  Evan would use the forces along the wall to maintain his uprightness.  Then, Evan would collapse onto the floor.  His teeth would transform into the teeth of a nutcracker.  Then, the butler would place the dropped doll next to Evan within his eyesight.  Then, Evan would repair any cracks, pass out, and reawaken back to normal.

            The butler who would assist Evan always thought it was an unusual work day, but he justified it with the knowledge that some rich people are just eccentric.  It was not his job to judge his employers.  Furthermore, the source of these stories of artistic ritual was not this butler.  This butler was rather loyal and dignified.  He would neither confirm nor deny any detail asked of him.  The source of these stories was Evans’ only son, a boy who caught a glimpse of his father’s rituals every once and awhile when he was dropped off for a visit.  He never saw the assassinations because he only saw his father one weekend a month.

            His son only found out about the assassinations through a confessional letter arranged to be given to his mother upon Evan’s death.  She figured that the letter was going to be more generic, so just gave it to her son without reading it.  That was her mistake, but the boy just absorbed the information without relaying the contents to her.

            Evan’s boy was not really too shocked by any of it.  He picked up on the strange air of his father and had just accepted there was something weird about him from the beginning.  He was just happy to have been brought up mostly by his mother in a stable home.  The one thing he would miss about his father, Evan, were the amazingly funny jokes he could come up with on any topic.

            That skill was something to admire.  His son often wondered if his father would spend the time between visits coming up with new material.  Now, he knew there was a deeper purpose to being an efficient comedian.  And in some sense, he felt some pride for having a considerate hitman as a father.  Anyone could have respect for the dead.  Having respect for the living and having the consideration for others to give them a quick painfree end are not qualities seen in many ordinary people or even killers, respectively.

            As far as he knew, he didn’t have his father’s gift for magic.  Thus, this information would not affect his life.  At least, he could live on happier knowing that “Uncle Vladimir” was just a creepy sorcerer and not related to him by blood.  Vladimir used to joke with him about his soon-to-have receding hairline, he would notice his father rolling his eyes, and he would have nightmares.  Without this sense of impending baldness, he felt better about the future outlook of his hair because he would have more than he anticipated.

Stop The Noise: The Show Cannot Go On Effectively In Discord

There have been some times in my life where I've experienced cognitive dissonance: that acknowledgment of an event that does not fall in line with your own beliefs about life and the people in it.

The problem with cognitive dissonance is that it cannot be erased.  Once that event has shattered your belief, you cannot simply glue the pieces back together and start over.  You wanted to stay happily living in the illusion. You wanted to believe in fairy tales.  You wanted to believe the one you loved really loves you back, even if he won't admit it.

Cognitive dissonance, in my experience, often brings sorrow.  Realizing that Disney fairy tales are not reality is devastating to a child.  Realizing that villains are everywhere is not pleasant.  The fact that these villains will show up without a hero in tow is very inconsiderate.  Realizing that the Prince is not going to put the glass slipper on your foot is disappointing.  You sit there and watch as he rides off with another girl (perhaps you want to throw some rocks at the carriage because you're mad, but you don't because that would be wrong).

The way I describe cognitive dissonance with respect to feelings of love involves sounds.  Up in the mind, I am screaming in anger, frustration, and confusion because logic tells me words and inconsistent actions do not make sense.  This scream is also fueled by the frustration that I cannot control the actions or feelings of other people.  Within the same body, sits the heart.  I try to think mean hateful things in my mind about the party in question.  Yet, the heart yearns for the love it still desires.  It is crying out for the love it wants.  The sound waves of the mind scream and the sound waves of the love cry meet in the middle at my throat.  This makes me want to speak, to release the stress of two incompatible sounds coming together.

These sound waves do not work in harmony.  Once I'm in contact with the source of the discord, the sounds start full blast.  I tried to distract myself with tasks.  I cleaned my room and moved furniture.  I tried to meditate to calm my nerves.  I tried to exercise and go for a walk.  None of that worked to return me to a state of acceptance.  As such, the only thing I could do to stop the noise was stop talking to the source of the sounds.

For a time, I believed taking this step was weak and I judged myself harshly for it.  Yet, given the cognitive dissonance I feel, it is a wise decision.  The show must go on and it cannot go on effectively in discord.

In time, it is possible that I will be better able to handle the noise of my feelings.  But as it stands, I must do what will promote my survival and efficiency.  Without peace of mind, I will die.  The noises will combine and I will shatter like a beautiful stain glass window.  I do not want to break over and over again.  It is insanity to believe things will be different if I continue along the same course I have followed.

How Much Should We Share; All Writing Is Personal

Often, I find myself wondering: How much information is too much to share with other people via the Internet or through general conversation?

I mean, I have to share some information with strangers to make friends (because every friend started out as a stranger).  Should I just stick with basic information like what classes I'm taking, how many sisters and brothers I have, or general subjects like movies, books, and what is going on in the world?

There are some people out there who take the "let it ride" attitude about conversation and Internet postings.  They express everything they are feeling so the whole world has access to it.  Some people express so freely that they do not take consideration for offending others or for the effect such expression could have on their reputation.

I find that I will read through some of the stuff I've written while considering whether or not to post it to make sure it will not offend people who are close to me.  I find that I will sometimes elect not to post something because I think it is too personal or think it might offend someone.  Sometimes, I wonder if I'm being too polite or being too critical of myself.

The only problem with that is I believe that everything a person writes shows their personality.  As such, isn't everything I write personal? Thus, if I'm worried about posting stuff that is too personal, I probably should not be posting anything at all.

Yet, I love to write and some of my opinions seem brilliant to me.  Therefore, I will continue to blog.  I will also continue to screen what I post.  I believe personal experiences can enhance writing, but it is not worth it to ruin another person's reputation or lose a valued friendship in the process.

That being said, I may slip up every now and then.  I'm only human (well, sometimes I insist I'm immortal and have magical brain waves, so perhaps crazy genius human applies).  In any case, I apologize in advance for offenses you may experience while reading my writing.  I won't apologize for shock though, because I enjoy using shock to get readers to pay attention.  I also sometimes like to write about stuff that makes readers uncomfortable, so they will want to keep reading in hopes of a resolution (Whether or not, I actually give the audience what it wants is on a case by case basis.).  I assure you that I aim to make a statement and make people think.

Busy, Busy, Busy

Sorry that I haven't been writing as of late.  I've been rather busy lately.  I took my brother up to Utah with my mom so he could go to college on Wednesday and Thursday.  My mom and I drove home on Friday.  Now, I'm working at a convention this week.  So, I've been swamped and haven't had the time to devote to my blog.

I figure that it is good to take the time to be productive outside of the technology marvel that is the Internet.  It reminds me of that commercial with the girl sitting in front of her laptop talking about how she was glad she had convinced her parents to join Facebook.  She started talking about her large number of friends, while the commercial showed her parents doing sports outdoors.  The girl was saying having a lot of Facebook friends was the same as having a life, while her parents were doing healthy exercise (having real lives).  As such, the moral of the story is: It is good to get outdoors and have an adventure every once and awhile.  Appreciating nature can do wonders for the soul.

Do not fret.  For I will soon have time to devote to a marvelous entry: probably around Thursday or Friday.  Until then, I'm afraid I must leave you in suspense.

What Is In Store For My Blog's Future

I just wanted to let you know that there are some interesting posts that I will be adding in the future.  I recently jotted down a story this week.  I need to go through it this week and edit it a little bit before I post it.

I was mainly trying to write down the content of the dream I had so I wouldn't forget it.  As such, I need to do some organization.  I'm also not sure if I'm going with just a single short story or if I'm going to keep it open to turn it into a series and possibly a book.  We'll see what develops there.

I also have been taking an English class over the summer.  As soon as that is over, I'm allowed to post my papers on here.  I was an overachiever (no surprise there) and I decided to write two personal diagnostic essays instead of one.  I chose one to turn in for class, but the other one would probably have a stronger impact. As such, I am thinking about posting those essays in particular.  I may revise them a little bit and might attempt to post pictures I took with one of them.  I love landscape photos.  I feel that pictures can enhance a story if they are chosen carefully.

So that is what is in the works for my blog's future.

Soapbox Speech: Wanting Greatness And Not Just Wanting Better

I have all sorts of tragedies to choose from of varying degrees of unhappy.  Mostly, I just want the bad times to transform completely into wonderful times like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly.

I don't want to trade tragedies.  Why want tragedy when you could have comedy or romance? Why be the pauper when you could be the princess? We should all want what is great and not what was once only slightly better than now.

*Pay no attention to the lady stepping down from the soapbox and running away.  She is enlisting the aid of a hot air balloon to escape to a world with no color and strangely dreamlike characters. :D She may or may not be wearing silver shoes.*

Popcorn Tea: To Drink or Not To Drink

Occasionally, I like to type stuff into the Google search bar to become more informed.  I've previously mentioned in one of my blogs that I type questions, but I also type topic names or subjects that I want to know more about.

A few months ago, I typed in "best herbal teas" and selected the first link that popped up.  The web address is as follows: http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/food-and-drink/features/the-ten-best-herbal-teas-1691571.html.  And on that particular website, the first tea they list (to my amazement) is popcorn tea.

Now, when I learned there was such a thing as popcorn tea, I was perplexed.  I could not understand why popcorn tea would exist.  It made no sense to me.  Yet, I was intrigued.

I read about how it's made out of green tea and sweet corn.  One brand name that sells is it Teapigs, which is a funny brand name in itself.  It amused me greatly that there was such a brand because I do feel it is likely that there are people who pig out on tea (myself being such a person).

I love to praise creativity and so my hat goes off to the people who came up with the brand name Teapigs.  That is amazing!!

Now, I still have yet to try popcorn tea.  I'm still wondering if it would actually be worth the trouble.  I've sampled all sorts of herbal teas over the years and I've found that I'm rather picky.  As such, perhaps it's not yet time for me to try something as revolutionary-sounding as popcorn tea.  As it stands, I shall think about it.

The Latest Book I Read: The House of Many Ways

Seeing as the name of this blog is "The Bookworm Speaks", I'm thinking I'm allowed to talk about books.

As such, I figured I'd bring up the latest book I read.  I was pleasantly surprised to discover that a popular movie had a sequel in book form.  This movie was Howl's Moving Castle and the sequel is The House of Many Ways.  Dianne Wynne Jones wrote both the book Howl's Moving Castle and The House of Many Ways.

I discovered this wonderful book while I was wandering around in the library.  Since I read Howl's Moving Castle a few months back, I often would look at Dianne Wynne Jones' books to see if I wanted to borrow something else she wrote.

Although I do feel a tad bit old to wander around the young teen section in the library, a short humiliation is worth it for a good read.  To be honest, I'm often over in that section hoping for the day when that last Twilight book will be available to check out.  I still haven't read the last one, but I feel that I need to do so.  I want to know who she picks: Edward or Jacob?  And I want to know by reading the last book and not by having someone spoil the ending for me.

Now, let's get back to discussing The House of Many Ways.  I love fanciful books like this.  I'm more about worshiping clever ideas than perfect writing.  Therefore, I thought this book was quite lovely.  I like that some of the characters from Howl's Moving Castle were featured in this new novel.  I also like that Jones created new creatures and characters to give this book its own independence.  I warn you that this book does belong in the teen section because it's not on the level of classic novels, but it was a quick read and whimsical.  If you're looking for something fun to read and obsess over for a short amount of time, I recommend reading The House of Many Ways.

By the way, if you need an incentive to see Howl's Moving Castle, Christian Bale does the voice for Howl in the film.  Bale has a dark mysterious voice and he does a superb job playing a much-desired wizard.  Plus, who doesn't love Christian Bale? <3

I Intend To Win Like The Noble Tortoise

Additional criticism is like twisting the knife that I've already stabbed into myself.

Why can't people be nicer? Why do people feel the need to make other people feel bad?

Isn't it enough that I'm trying to make something of myself? Isn't it enough that I'm not sitting on a mountaintop in escape of the world? Why must I fit into a mold of some kind? Why can't I just be me and be loved for who I am? Why must people pick me apart like I'm a frog on the dissection table?

I know my life isn't perfect.  I know I don't have my life completely together.  But I also know that people my age often don't have their life together either.  Let me figure it out.  Watch and cheer me on.  Be supportive.  I promise you I will figure it out eventually.

Don't rush me.  I'll go at my own pace.  I'm not in a hurry.  The tortoise wasn't in a hurry during his race with the hare, but he still won.

I don't need naysayers or bosses to push me in the direction they want me to follow.  I want nice positive people in my life.  Let's be happy that I'm awesome now, in aims of being more awesome later.

On My Way To Being The Coolest Old Lady Ever

Today is one of those days where I laugh at my ways and how those ways do not match my age.  Sometimes, I feel like I have the soul of an old lady inside this 25-year old body.

Today, I spent time gardening and sewing.  Those hobbies alone scream to me "old lady" because they take patience and time.  With all the rushing around people do, it seems incongruous for the young to take the time out of their day to tend a garden or mend a blanket.  Someone reading this might be thinking, "Having two hobbies typical of old ladies hardly means you're an old lady."

Yet, I have more hobbies that indicate that I'm on my way to being an awesome old lady.  One of those hobbies is brewing tea with a tea kettle and a teapot.  I have the cutest little light blue teapot that I use to steep my tea.  Now, that I own my own teapot, that song "I'm a little teapot" has so much more significance.

The other hobby I have a passion for is baking.  Specifically, I love baking cookies.  Honestly, I used to make some awful cookies.  My first attempt at oatmeal cookies turned into more like granola bars.  I was literally pounding the back of the cookie sheet in an attempt to loosen the caked-on oatmeal.  Luckily, the oatmeal fell off in clusters, I bagged it, and it was still eaten.  Thankfully, I practiced and honed my skills in cookie baking. Now, my little sisters and brothers request that I bake cookies ALL THE TIME.  Sometimes, I'll hear this word randomly being said around me in the house, "Cookies".

I also like to work on jigsaw puzzles and play scrabble.  These pastimes are tried and true.  It hardly screams "party girl".  I also don't really gamble, even though I'm of age.  The only exception for me is Bingo.  I love playing Bingo with my mom, grandparents, and assorted family.  Once again, this gambling preference screams "old lady".  Although, some of the old ladies who play Bingo a lot get all decked out in decorated hats and bring style to the game.  Perhaps, I will make myself a Bingo Hat one day.  It's an idea.

Not only do I have these strange hobbies, I also think I have the personality of an old lady.  I am a cat person, who seems to attract them as if I'm catnip or something.  When I acknowledge this cat affinity, it makes me aspire to be the crazy cat lady somewhere in the future.  Although, I met an old lady who told me something very wise once.  She told me that a house should only have as many cats as there are laps.  I agreed with her assessment, so I think I'll only have one cat when I'm older.

I don't really want to go out clubbing and I'm perfectly content reading a ravishing book rather than being a social butterfly.  I'm sure old ladies can be social, too.  I imagine quilting circles and bridge parties.  I suppose I don't imagine old ladies going rollerblading or hanging out at a skate park.  I think it is society's stereotypical programming that limits my thinking.  

I also thoroughly enjoy sitting in a rocking chair admiring a landscape or a beautiful sunset from a porch.  I think when I get my own house, a rocking chair is a piece of furniture that I will insist on having.  Although I'm supposed to present this image of being hip and cool since I'm so young, I prefer to be honest and present the true image of who I am.  I look young and I'm a bit eccentric for my age, but I'm on the road to being the coolest old lady ever!!  

If I turn out at all like both of my grandmothers, I'll count myself wonderful and very loved.