A Window into the Chinese Puzzle Box......and a rather odd Hippo sporting a madonna wig. Hmm...

 

Do you know what hungrythirsty is? No. Are you stupid?
My brother is, he’s in a basement.
Hungrythirsty is when you are neither hungry or thirsty
but a bit of both.
And there is only one cure for hungrythirsty and that’s Oak.
With its full strength and full taste it’s full on!
Evening.
I wish I’d fed my son Oak when he was growing up.
Just kidding, I don’t have a son.
Well technically I do, but he’s in real estate. 

 

 

             Yess I had to do it you know...this whole thing has been sending me loco for the last week or so, and surely I can't be the only person who's going round to every store they can find and asking if they have Oak. Heehee...eventually I'll find it, as it is...it seems to be eluding me no matter how hard I hunt for it. XD

 

 

             Last night, a door to Eternity opened up to me. I call it that, without perhaps meaning anything too spiritual...more, that it was like my mind exploded with ideas. There were hundreds, and so many beautiful flashes of inspiration that even if I had of had a notebook I don't think I would have been fast enough to record them all down. It was almost euphoric and made me think that this is the way we were designed to be and to think.

             Rather than just having elevator music or the occasional doom and gloom notion in my mind and somewhat shabby new ideas squeeze out from the edge of the doors' frame...instead, the door flies open and there's no stopping any of them.

 



 

                  Throughout the day I had so so many revelations. Part of it was re-reading this book I love called The Raw Shark Texts Steven Hall. He seems to write on the edge of insanity too with brilliant theories and ways of putting his words and I've realized that he came across the same idea as me or perhaps vice versa. Either way, we both have a similar theory but they have different faces.

His theory is that (or at least in the story, but I believe it's true of real life) every idea and fragment of information and text and media is like a waterway that flows between everyone and everything...that it is so complex a network and things grow in it: life.

 

         We are all connected...we are made of the same matter as everything else, but while he sees it as a waterway of rivers and lakes and streams and even oceans, I see it as a jigsaw or a Chinese puzzle box. Both make sense to me, but if you would, dear friends, consider my theory:

 

     Our lives interconnect in the smallest and sometimes biggest ways and like a puzzle we all have our small tiny place that fits into the millions of other interlacing and overlapping lives or peices of others we meet and hear about and know. The only way we succeed in life is (like a puzzle box), pressing the right pressure points and opening the right doors...sliding the right peices in the right way to make something extraordinary happen: whether it be achieving our goals or dreams or love. Sometimes the puzzle box moves us about of its' own accord, and we can't always control it.

 

                As cliche as it sounds, I want my writing to be like stars shining out to people from the book page when they read it. That's really a lot of what I want...to be able to leave an impact on the world when I leave it by my books and whatever else I can.

I want to be able to earn off my writing and to be remembered...perhaps even see my stories turned into a movie.

 

              My only problem now...is deciding who or what I should dedicate my first novel to, and really start to edit it. I'm also wondering if it's such a good idea to have 'To be continued' at the end but in Latin...as well as a word for eternity that I decided was a real word:

 

Lat Aterna

 

I will leave you with this small peice of advice and fun most dearly dear friends...heeheehee:

 

S

  S

  S

S

S

 S

    S

     S

S

S

S

S

  S

   Szz

  szzzzzzz

 

 

               Fall asleep now, turn around once...chant lot's of rice and lift your hands thrice because the Sinister Meeting Room calls.

 

We need your presence we need your fun and best of all we need your gum,

we beg of you every night and day oh won't you transcribe to our delicious herasayyy

So inscribe our tattoos upon your skin and make a pact to fear the dead,

We will care for you if you will care for us,

and the most well-earned fact is that you can never leave, so earn our trust...

                    If you wish to answer our call and truly become a membere, dialle the star straight down to zero and glance in a Westerly 2000 metre direction. Find the little boat and then whistle a Rapsody tune, hop into the lagoon...and please try not to swoon.

We need you here and you will see, that we are agreeably, well paid indeed.

So ignore our teeth and get on with it please...

You are in the mists now and the weeds do breathe.

 

You are a part of the Sinister Meeting Room now.

 

  Just a last word, :] I think writing takes faith. That you have to have the belief inside of you that you aren't so terrible a writer that you can put words to paper...ignore the fear that you don't deserve to try or there's no point to it. There is...there is a reason we feel the way we do...we merely have to be patient and wait to find it. And that may take a while...years may go by before you understand why the desire to write or create or dance is hidden inside of you, or not.

  Much LOVE darlings,]
  Miss CLScarlett xx


 P.S.  Just below is a sign I had made in Bali when I went there with my family of an important word to me. It is Kir Hareseth (and I'm, ahm, ashamed to say that I misspelled it, but I think its' importance is still there). It's Biblical...and it was a city that a people tried to destroy...but in the end it continued to stand firm. There was a lot more to it, but the idea I got from it was that something with that name would never be able to truly be destroyed or pulled down. It can withstand.
      Aside from this it's [spoiler alert] the name for one of my most favourite characters in my dragon books, one of his inventions. He's also, mind, the guy Sodom hates the most...so yeah he's pretty darn coolio.

 

It is now the nameplate of whatever place I inhabit.

 

 

 

 

 

P.P.S. Looking forward to the 2nd of October.

 



 

My Perspective Thousand-wide Tangle of Gloom-Balloons...

   Well well well...

          Indeed.

  Well well well Scarlett...have you ever heard the story of the three wells...? Well I have...and you well, well you should have. :]

     I believe myself to be in a far more fantabulis mood than the end of my last entry: and I do feel it was rather unfair, me ending it like that, seeing as I hardly have time to Blog these days, so I should use my entries wisely, as they say.

    Recently I finished IT by Stephen King...and my gosh! For anyone who has read it, you'll understand what I mean without me having to even go into it. But he truly is one of the most brilliant writers I think and honestly...if you want a good read (and if you want to see just how much and how long you can handle the darkness and violence and sadism in the book itself, then please you must read it)
    I think I got to the stage at the end of the tale (and I think it's the longest book I've tried to read, or that I've taken to read), in which it was all so ridiculously horrific and violent and intense that I stopped being scared of it. It became funny in some ways! Is it really possible that I actually feel somewhat tender towards the entire tale?

   If I can give a small piece of advice and honesty, his type of style is envying. In that, he looks at things from such another angle...and all the little names for things and catch phrases that the characters use, are solid and have meaning...they weren't just hastily thrown onto the writing page by King...he really did think it out. (Heehee...obviously, I guess you'd say). It even took him five years to write...and (this isn't me boasting or anything of the sort), but my first novel...well I wrote it first when I was eight or so...and I'm still editing it. What I mean by saying that is that I wasn't advanced in any way back then and I'm still improving...and hey, maybe I've spent too much time on my various novels, but the fact is, only Stephen King could accomplish a feat like that book in five short years.
    My gosh...

 

             On a side note, I wanted to say that from what I've read in books and with how I'm [hopefully] starting to put in place in my own writing, it's all about how the writing is put on the page and styled: how clever it is.

                  The best books are formatted in a way that's engaging and shining...in curious and unusual ways, and often it's just the writing itself...but in some books (like The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall and Stephen King :] ) it's visually enticing and awesome. I think these days the only way to get published is to write in such a way that as soon as a reader lays eyes on the first sentence of the first page, the author's perspective hand reaches out and seizes the reader by the collar and won't let them free.

           I have still got a long way to go with my own style but I think the new version of my first novel is getting better, and I'm trying to follow this advice myself.

 

              Ah... but, it seems to me that lately in my life...fate or Jesus or life doesn't care if I want to be oblivious and live a simple life (and I am in no way complaining), but I can't seem to shake my perspective thousand-wide tangle of gloom-balloons that follow me around everywhere. That's why I say I'm always of double-mind in everything, because half the time I'm all doom and gloom in my head and rather sad I guess, but the other half of me, or really my Sodom-Esq psyche tells me and fills me with the belief that life isn't that bad. And it isn't, merely that I think it's just the way I am.

 

 

      But what I'm getting to with all of this...is that even though I doubt, I can still see the meaning behind everything and that someone still cares for me even though I can get lost in my labyrinth most of the time.

       Not only do I get a job on the gold coast at seaworld...but it fit both of my secret requirements: It's permanent, it's basically the same as the work I did on Lindeman Island, the people are great, I get to wear a uniform, and although it's hard work (and a lot of work), it's a bit less than Lindie. It's also filled another requirement of my 109 day list: aka, go to the beach more.

        There's a beach right across from work that I sometimes go to before work...and there's curlews!

Curlews...heehee, if you didn't know they're these tall grey and black birds that live around barren sort of places and that move mostly at night. They've got these gigantic eyes, and they move in a stalking sort of way. But they're so idiotic that if you scare them (and ahm, they happen to have trapped themselves indoors), they usually will fly straight up and hit the roof or fly into windows. My gosh they're funny, and they were on my island when I was working there. So to see them at my work now, it's like another sign that this is where I'm meant to be.

 

         You may think that these are all just coincides, and maybe they are...perhaps I look into things too much, but I believe all this and a few other things, have added to my opinion that things are still taking care of me in ways. I'm loving it in some instances, and in others my melancholia  is worse and somehow more intense.

        But I've always believed that it's about perspective, even though I don't always put that into place. Still...

 

 

 

               So...as well as re-writing my first novel, I've changed a fair few parts of my characters' names, and just tried to make them more personal in how they speak and act. I've also, ahm, changed the series' name: The MatchSpark Series. 

          I'm also really feeling the desire to paint again, or to work on a character depiction on a canvas of my characters and special ones.

 

 

 

          On a last little note, I had the revelation that what we are all searching for is the truth: I know, cliche huh? Heehee. It's true though, subconsciously, in every action we take, we are looking for something that fills us, fills some need...makes us feel loved or special or important. All because we're searching for this truth.

 

           In honour of the truth...here is a pretty darn awesome music video of The Truth by Pnau:

 

 

Much Love dear ones,

 

Miss CLScarlett xx

 

 

By the River of Nomads...

 

Sacrifice...

      Things seem to go that way. To live my life... or the life I dream of with my writing, my reading, my art and getting published, I need money.
       I'd rather be writing all the time and doing these things but I can't because I need to work. I have an amazing job, in that I am very grateful, even though I wish I had more spare time. In that I am sacrificing my writing time and honing of it so that I can finance the submissions and editing and courses and printing of my work.
        It gives me more inspiration when I do get time to write and when I work so much. But it does make me feel like I'm not a writer.
       And I can honestly say that you are a real writer if you don't believe yourself to be at first or most of the time. This isn't always true and reliable but mostly it is. To know, you have to remind yourself of the facts.
  Me...I can say that I'm of two minds and states in every part of me. In my writing I know I'm a writer but I don't believe myself to be worthy of being called a writer. I believe a lot of two-sided-bitter things but in my writing, this...
   On my desk I have a large envelope that holds the self-published first version of my dragon novel as well as a translated version in Japanese completed by a friend of mine. In that same pile is the newest manuscript of a new novel I'm part way through writing, as well as the last notebook filled with the last part of my second latest novel of which I'm in the middle of typing up. I also have the eight documentaries I've completed of my islands on the Black Ocean that I created. I have next to that my story notebooks and journals and the latest book I'm reading and in my laptop are all the copies of my stories....all eight or so and incomplete prototypes included as well as self-prompts attached to my screen to try and encourage my writing.
   I'm not trying to boast or brag, just that I've been writing for 18 - 20 years in my genre and I really am slowly putting my writing plan to get published into action.

   So eventually I came to the terms with myself that I am a writer, that I am meant to be a writer and that I am a good writer but that I have a long way to go and that I am not yet an author. Only when I have a properly printed book in my hand that I've written will I be an author.
   Please dear friends, I invite you to reflect on your writing habits and what is involved in your life - write it down, whatever you have to do - and see if there is enough evidence to support who you believe yourself to be.
   Mind you, even when I haven't touched a story for years, I still get new ideas and bits and peices to add to the tale and new inspiration. That's why I feel that there's not enough time, because I honestly believe that I don't have enough time in my life to do all the things I want to do...to feel that I am able to relax and actually complete and experience everything. Instead I have only sixty to seventy years left to realise this...my life.
    It's a long time, and I realize that this is the attitude I should take, but sometimes it's hard. But it is a long time. :]

   Which is another thing...sometimes the only way to get through life is to constantly be diplomatic. I try to...though with my writing it's much harder to just be all nice. But in that...if ever one has a problem, use silence, instead of just bellowing at said annoying or hurtful person...and, I'm not sure...it's hard to explain.
  Just that it seems to play out in life that the guy who succeeds is always on everyone's good side.

 

You know, I used to have a black cat. Heehee, yes I did, yes I did.

My point is that back years ago I used to just be more. With my cat we'd walk out to the field opposite my house just on evening or just-to, and we'd sit there together watching the sun set and listening to the sounds we both could hear, being like her. I wouldn't notice the cold and I'd be so so there.

Cold is so...I feel more there when I'm hungry and cold and near water.

Sounds terrible I know, but there's some things...to be able to really feel the edges of myself and be there and exuberantly happy because of it...then, well, hunger and warmth become secondary.

    

         I don't know where to end this, but I do know that despite how well my life seems to be going, the dark gloom cloud keeps peeping out at odd and sharp corners and angles, in the moments between bus stations and lonely roads...and when I see how much my life and my families life is about to change and is changing, it makes it somehow worse and more strained that I feel I'm being inducted more and more into the jigsaw of life.

      

       What I mean by that is that life is like a jigsaw...so many interconnecting peices and sometimes it's a downer to think that it is so complex and big that I could easily get my place in the puzzle and become lost in its' folds. Because really, if we're honest with ourselves, it can be near impossible to find a single small peice in a billion peice puzzle.

 

 

Just...really, living in a small apartment, alone with perhaps a cat for company and working like a robot for this company because I have no other job and so can't risk being free...and seeing my life slowly running to the grave in this process...

 

Sorry to end this with such a downer note.

 

And no...it is and it isn't as simple as I'm telling you.

 

Miss CLScarlett xx

White Lake, Blue Clouds...

  I used to dream of lakes...huge lakes. Really in the end they were just an adaption of the similar ones I'd visit in my drawing adventure times. I also designed another sort of water mass along the same lines for my Island Books:

    Water that is endlessly dark and deep, and that barely moves but is arcticly cold. There are things in the deep...Megalodon and harpies, giant octopus and other creatures and entities as large as houses and as black as a moonless night...

    I only ever had one nice dream about a lake...they've always been very alien to me. You can't swim out into a lake without being aware...anything can be in them. (oooh spoookyy)

      I hope you don't mind, but there was this curious dream I had once, and it was another one of those EPIC, real-feeling dreams:

      I was walking along a stretching beach as part of a thirty K walking challenge. I had begun walking alone a fair while ago and of a sudden, I find that I've come across a structure built just off the sand, where grass grew and stretched in hills. I believe it looked like a castle or something similar, but made of bricks. I was drawn to the door in its' side and going inside I found myself in a medieval-like dungeon-y passageway.
      I began exploring the place, but at the same time, the more I walked and the further I went the more I began to feel that something alive had lured me in there, and that I was being followed and had to get out. I think I began to run, but I couldn't find the way out...until eventually I came to a door that led out onto a small balcony.
      It really tripped me out though because the view from the balcony was of the ocean, when I had been sure that the sea was on the opposite side of the building to my position. I continued searching and finally came to a walkway that eventually led outside.
      Only problem was that even though it was out in the air, it was merely an enclosed yard encircled by a wall of giant trees that pressed skin-tight to each other. There was no way out, but I did find a little cafe that looked like something off Hansel and Gretel, in which an old lady ran out with a beautiful dessert for me to eat. It was delicious, but I was in a strange state of mind, being stuck in there.

      Things that you love and chase often have a way of trapping you in their walls and making you feel lost. It was ages ago: that dream.

   I've been thinking lately that I might change the title of the series itself. It's been The Golden Dragon Series for as long as I can recall, and I feel the need for a change coming on. Perhaps though, I might add a Sub-name for it, that has a semi-hidden meaning behind it. I'll give you one guess as to what it may be about: Look at the Photo ABOVE.... :] humhumhum...

      Ah, and as part of my 109 day challenge (or really, I made these before I decided that I wanted to do the challenge), but I think it can be included in the same genre. You may recall that I said I had made wings in preparation for that Stress Down Day thing, well...:] I finally got around to taking photos of my odd creations...so here goes:

    They're not the most brilliant things in the world...but they are wings of a sort, and that's what I like about them. I was even able to attach bands to the back (which aren't shown in the photos), so that I can wear them. XD

    I've always loved the idea of creating pointless but lovely things...or that seem lovely to me somewhere inside. The two I always wanted to design (and now have), were a pair of wings, and my own dragons. I'll take a photo of my dragons sometime, but they are similar in design to those Japanese types, only they have wings instead of the remarkable ability to fly unaided through the sky. :]

   You know...I read this peculiar book once (just a small one), about all these different, quirky and special characters that folded together into one story. The author also wrote it by blurring the lines between reality and Fiction...kinda like The Long Road of the Junkmailer. But in one part, this boy lifesaver lives most of his time on this beach and a peculiar girl finds him after she tries to drown herself...only this boy, he hardly ever speaks and one day she discovers that he has paper wings pasted onto his back with hot glue (ages ago), and he tells her finally that it is so that he can always be apart, and remember that an angel can never be touched by love or earth or hurt...so in effect keeping himself from others by using the symbol of those wings.

    Pretty sad but...there were some lovely parts to that tale and for the life of me I can't recall it's title. Heehee...I'll try and find out. :]

 

  Last night my thoughts blurred...and my dreams mixed in their pots. I fancied I could hear a ferocious hissing somewhere in the dark of the night, but a while later I realised that it had merely been a sound that had escaped from my dreams. Of a blue blue viper that bit me because I didn't have the strength to escape it...and then bit my father because he had been seeking to help me.

 

    So I will continue to try and feel the edges of myself and perhaps find my shadow - and you know the funniest thing was that yesterday I heard the startling expression that shadows always lie to you.

 

As in, shadows are shape shifters and never show their true form. They lie and deceive us...kinda creepy and intriguing I thought.

 

 

 

   I will write to you all later,

 

   Miss CLScarlett xx



 
   


  
  

Sea Tales and the Trembling Spider-Spin Web...

habcartattack on DeviantART

Imagine...

 

Snow...

Lot's of snow.

 

If you would indulge me, turn off the music, turn off the TV and try and envision this small tale I will tell you.

What sort of tale, you may inquire?

A tale - a little bit of make-believe - about YOU.

 

 

Just wait a moment, until all the noises have faded around you and there is silence.

The silence of smoke, of quiet corners and forgotten things...

 

 

Try and keep a hold of that silence friend.

 

          You are standing in white, surrounded by it. Broken and muffled snowflakes fall around you like a song that has its volume muted and the pictures still moving. It is quite cold, but not unpleasantly so, and you don't mind, because you are wearing the most splendid, and most snuggest coat that has ever been invented, in your opinion.

 

       You begin to make out something through the white: scraggly figures, as thin as whips and laced with ice...trees you realize, but ones that have long ago forgotten the light and how to live. To the right of this group of forlorn trees, you start to see the outline of a great lake, frozen firm and violent with ice as darkly robbed of life-glow as a deathly ill patient.

 

   A certain curiosity fills you and you trudge towards the edge of the lake, your feet making uneasy scrinching noises upon the snow. You reach its' edge and look out across its' sudden vastness: at the points in the ice where it is so thin and delicate that you can see that water - black as licorice - flowing madly in secret currents and ways.

 

The wind lifts itself about you, and you jump...feeling an abrupt creeping of fear in you at the distorted voice that drifts on that cold wind to your ears.

 

"We..r... a.. al..ne.. d..wn he..r..."

 

       You shiver, and continue staring out over the lake. You can see all the way out to the centre of the ice and it is there, that you start to make out a pale figure. Like the voice, you cannot decide if it is female or male, but in a few seconds the twirling cloud of ice and wind has wrapped around and latched itself together in the shape of a human.

 

      You cannot feel anything as you watch this part-mist, part-solid entity sway its' way towards you without hesitation. Closer and closer it comes until you are able to make out burning eyes and the glint of a smile somewhere on its face.

 

"We're all alone down here...if only you would join us...join us if only, we wouldn't be so alone, would we? No if you would join us we wouldn't be very much alone. No..."

 

     You try to speak, to force your feet to backpedal you away from the uncertainty and strangeness, yet you are paralyzed...

 

    She/He/they reach you and you feel their hand rest on your cheek...instantly numbing the entire right side of your face. A slow drifting begins in your mind, and you fancy that someone or something...perhaps the figure or perhaps the wind itself, has planted a kiss on your forehead.

 

You are drifting, drifting away...from the ice, and the lake and the forest...drifting...

 

"We were never really gone...only lost, and now you are one of us. The cold ones, with burning blood...burning emotions. We burn so feircely that we die even faster, and eventually our skin melts with the heat."

 

 

        You fall far away...and you wonder, if at the end, if there weren't other figures with the first...the one who you believe gave you the ice kiss...and that they were also saying things, many things.

 

It is cold, so very, very cold....   

 

   The cold falls away as a fire swings around to replace it, and finally the world comes back to you and you are able to open your eyes.

 

You look up at a roof of translucent black-blue, and you feel the water currents swarming about you...and something else: a presence, or many presences.

"Yesss..." they corus. "You are ours, and we are yours...forever an Ice Child. Ours and Yours and Theirs..."

 

    You open your mouth wide and bubbles cascade inside, yet your terror is gone, and you can breathe easily. Eyes burning and the voices of the Ice Children filling your ears you swim, and they swim and we all swim...down, down, down.

 

Until finally we reach the place, where it doesn't burn no more.

 

An Ice Child forever more.

 

 

   Well :] , after that small tale, I think all that is left, is for me to leave you with a small list of writing practises that should help you keep on the ball in honing your craft. We always need practise, and we can always improve. Thankfully, with my new job and my savings plan that I shall start when I get my first, ahm, paycheck :] I shall be able to really put my entire writing plan into action: and my life.

 

   Things aren't always so bad, and I know things change, but right now I think it's pretty cool that I have half a week to work and the other three or so days to write and devote my time to creativity and dreaming. :] Thank-you...for this wonderful job I have recieved.

 

 

 

 

 

    Also on a small note, have you ever recieved a call from Eternity?

 

      If I have your curiosity, I'll try not to keep you very long. But what I mean...well, it's very similar to what the character Steppenwolf experienced occasionally. He described it as an eternal trail of glowing light that would appear every so often in his dark life. Mine is not so dramatic as that, but I still think of it as so.

 

     One instance when it happened:

     After Lindeman - my island - closed, it was fairly hard for me. I guess I think about things too much, but it's hard to explain. In that in some ways, the island had planted itself deeply in my heart, and I'd often speak to her (Yakaima), out loud or in my head. She was a living, breathing thing for me (which I know sounds weird, but that's how it was for me). But in this instance I'm talking about, it was three or so months after it had closed and I was back living with my parents, slowing recovering I guess. On a side note, on the day we all left the island, I lost all of the books I owned, my bank cards and my iPod heehee. But all this time later, after I'd long ago given up, I walked outside one afternoon and discovered two tattered boxes marked Care of Lindeman that were filled with all my lost books. I hadn't even heard the van deliver them but the feeling I had...it was so clear and filled with pure, clear air.

   A call from Eternity, and a last send-off from Linde.

 

   I always  believed that Yakaima was like a cat or a spirit. That the way she showed that she loved you was by messing you around a bit but in the end throwing surprises and pleasures at you when you least expected it.

 

  Other times I experienced the Call from Eternity were in times of brief, but pure, happiness. There's been a few, and yeah...it's pretty cool.

 

   Anyway, enough chatter, and here's a small list of writing honing tips:

 

 

  

 

• DEAW: Drop Everything and Write. :] Basically what it says. It's what I did for the tale in the first half of this Blog and the other brief times I've put stories up in my posts. Just think of something...be it as seemingly insignificant as a leaf, and let the writing lead you to its' conclusion. Eventually it will come to you, and don't go over what you've written until you've written out most of it. But just experiment, and have fun. Don't think of it as a series of rules or tasks, just do what you feel.
• Improvise: This is maybe more of a challenge, but try audibly telling stories to others without writing them first. Just improvise, don't stress and let your thoughts lead you where they will.
• Get into your characters Head: Write character Biographies, interview your characters as if they were really there, think about them: what would your main character do in this or that situation. Let them be the ones who you tell everything to...yess okay, you've found the writers secret. We are adults that use writing as an excuse to have imaginary friends heehee.
• Write: Yeah, cliche I know :] but it's important. Write journals, write in Blogs, write poetry, write everything. Eventually you'll be able to type without looking and just...whatever it is, just keep writing.

 

 

           It also really helps to look at each word you're writing when you go back over it an edit it. But believe me, if you are bored with your writing or where you are in your story, then your readers will be. Don't write safe, take the weird ways, and describe things in as startling and unnusual ways as you can manage. It's not always possible, but don't rush, keep practising and yeah...eventually it will be easier.

 

         Much Love,

 

         Miss CLScarlett xx

 



Reminiscents of the Dream-Trapped Mind...

Hey...

 

 

   I really should have planned everything...I'm not sure, and mainly it feels like I've just started to remember how things were at the beginning on Lindeman when I worked there. Namely, it's very hard to enjoy any of it in the first few weeks and hey, it's pretty much the same at my new job.

 

Upside is that with all the stuff that's happening I'm stressing less about certain things and finding myself amazed at how much you can fit into a small amount of time.

 

 

         Also...sorrowfully, I have decided to take it a bit more easy on my goals for the next 109 days. I'll still finish them all, but I may not be able to spit out a poem every second day or write that much. If I can just get myself into the swing of things, all these other things will come about and I'll be okay.

 

 

But maybe...I can handle a small poem, now...

 

 

 

Sleep Paralysis.

 

A stone falls into silence...

and my eyes fall into darkness,

Lying on ice,

they come with their broken razors and trailing scars,

In times of shadow and listlessness,

I hear them scratching...

at the walls and my mind,

they grip my body,

Put a fifteen kilogramme weight in my bones...

The air scorches my skin,

and out of the night voices assault my ears,

whispering, laughing in crazy-sad voices

and taking the tone of those I love...

Yet who are the furthest from anything remotely familiar,

Spectres shift and warble out of the darkness,

Cannot move,

terror racing like Ecstasy through my brain

and all they do is laugh...

Until I recall that this is merely a scientific nightmare,

Live to defy it,

Lie on your side, fall asleep at once, not slowly...

in case they decide to latch in their claws

in your moments of drifting,

It's a fate you carry alone,

Because to doctors it is all fanciful garbage.

Ha! Tell that to the living shadows,

and the Paralysis, and the time-moths

and all the hidden parts...

The slow-eating of my mind,

and I realise,

that I've known all along,

I'm sick somewhere deep inside

and I can't decide any longer if it's physical or some part of my mind,

When did I start losing my physical edges?

When did I start feeling this tremor...

and allow the monsters time to take hold?

 

 

 

 

   I'll try and Blog as much as possible, and wish you much love and happiness,

 

 

   Miss CLScarlett xx

 



September's Gozba and 'other' things...

Hi darlings,

Scarlett here...

 

    So I have collected two days worth of creations. The photos you see are all part of my les é checs dyfi or Chess Challenge: in which I will be taking a series of photos of myself and others in odd places and in odd outfits playing chess and having tea.

 

      I have also written the first of my Hidden Theme poems, of which I will write one every second day. This first is called Gozba and I invite you to guess as to its' meaning. :]

 

Below are the goals I aim to complete in the remaining weeks and days of September:

September:

Learn to play chess . Write one poem based on a theme every second day . Write for two hours every day and create better writing habits . Begin a savings plan . Put my Writing Plan into action . Put a video on YouTube . Start re-reading all my favourite books .
 

Gozba.

First you hear the whistling tune,

Haunting sweet paths through your brain...

Like an ill-gotten charm to wake the dead,

Singing cool night blues...

You make your unsteady path down the hall,

pass people as faded as memory,

Each of them holds a growing light in their eyes,

and a demeanour that promises heartache...

You pass them by and as you walk,

that dancing melody grows louder,

Such is the puppet master that has wings of frets and notes,

that can entomb you in its' entrancing guild...

A room encompasses you from the depths of the hall

and the sensations are everywhere now,

Rose coloured lights,

and a table stretching five miles long...

a drifting crowd of faces that gaze at you with smiles...

And then you know in your heart,

a great certainty in you,

that this is where you are meant to be

and Heaven forbid you should try to leave,

So you let them stretch their arms out

and grasp you with fingers that are cold,

You experience a brief moment of confusion...

No surely their touch is warm?

The firelight grows and a seat is withdrawn for you,

as you sit before a banquet fit for eighty-two...

As you begin to feed the tastes explode and the room acquires a glow,

the glow it fills you and you cannot believe...

how much these strangers have chosen to dote on you,

Their pale eyes never leave you and their lips usher soft praise...

they refuse to leave your side,

laughing off your questions with aim,

Finally you have eaten, as much as you can take,

then looking around,

you realise that you were the only one who took a plate,

'What's wrong' you ask, 'is the food not to your liking?'

Their movement's fall silent but their smiles grow wider...

'Oh yes' they reply,

'the food is to our liking,

but stay a moment longer dear friend...

there's no need to wander...'

A slow dawning fills your mind as their mouths become gaping holes,

mere caves ringed by jagged glass,

and you understand that you have fallen asunder...

Yet stuffed you are...

Quite nicely so,

and unable to move yourself your hosts emit a roar,

As they begin to feast on your body and heart,

you realise that it was not for you but they...

and that you should never have come,

to this Gozba buffet.

 

      So I have begun to learn chess...and am yet to grab a moment with my Dad to start playing our EPIC chess game heehee. But this is all giving me so much inspiration and I have heaps of things planned so...this should hopefully keep you all interested and laughing.

      Ah and on a side note...I began playing chess against Mr White n S and Ha! we're even. I captured his bishop despite the fact that he tried to silence me by ferociously capturing three of my pawns in his first three or so moves. XD

     Wish me luck and hope for my Orientation day for my new Seaworld Job as Pastry and Cold Buffet chef tommorow.

   Much Love,
   Miss CLScarlett xx



 



My 109 Day Party LIST

My End-Of-The-World

109 DAY

Reconciliation Party LIST.

 

Start date: Tuesday the 4^th of September.

End Date: Friday the 21^st of December.

             So tommorow it begins dear friends, and I will kick off this challenge with my Chess Challenge and believe me, pretty soon it will all begin to fall together.

Any suggestions are helpful and wanted and I hope we live to see the end heehee.

Much Love.

Miss CLScarlett xx

 

The LIST:

 

·         My les é checs dyfi – Chess Challenge: Over the following 109 days I will start an epic game of chess with my father and anyone else who wants to play. I am terrible at chess right now and so I vow to learn and try and beat him. I will also be aiming to photograph myself doing chess in a series of weird and unusual places in weird and unusual outfits. Just think; if you desire to play chess with me you will end up on my Blog, my FB page and DeviantArt heehee, so embrace the fame. :] It is also the case that whenever my Dad or I lose a piece we have to say a secret or truth (or take a shot, or both heehee…and anyone else is invited to this game too).

·         Write more poetry: I will aim to write a poem every second day based on an entire list of themes and quirky ideas or feelings that I will put up soon, or perhaps I will reveal each theme with each poem. I will get a new members ID on DeviantArt and take part in poetry competitions as well as submit poetry to various magazines and comps that I can find.

·         Create better writing habits: Write for two hours every day, no matter what time I have to do it and no matter how I’m feeling, because I know it will help. Enter writing competitions and enrol in an editing and proofreading home-based course, so I can better perfect my style and novels. I will also pay people to edit my work and help me improve. I will try out as many curious and strange writing practises I can to help me keep sharp and I will buy a typewriter and learn to master the art of old fashioned writing. I will also aim to have my first novel sent off in various submissions by the end of this 109 day period and my second book in the series re-written and edited.

·         Create a canvas portrayal of all my characters and important ones: Paint it, sketch it or whatever, just do it.

·         Grow a Viola aurea or a Viola arborescens: These flowers belong to the family of my birth flower, the violet. The first name I wrote is commonly known as the Golden Violet while the second is called the Tree Violet. Bake my way through a small dessert cookbook: Just small, so I can complete it within this time frame, but I will find a challenging book and photograph what I create. I also want to hone my decoration skills more and try cooking more savoury dishes and experimenting more. I even hope that somewhere down the track I could get to the stage of maybe opening my own line of Pastries. I’d call it Hummingbird Delicacies.

·         Reconcile and decide where I stand with Jesus, and myself: my beliefs.

·         Experience love.

·         Find a way to be happy again.

·         Reconnect with all my friends again.

·         Put my Writing Plan into action: Okay basically my Writing Plan is the set of steps I have figured out to bring my novel into the world and get it published. First is the basic re-write of all the books in my Golden Dragon Series. Five in total. I have basically done the first book, which is the first novel I ever tried to write, while I have started on Book Two. I then go back and edit what I have re-written then – when I have some money under my belt – I hire a professional editor to look it all over as well as finding as many friends and booklovers as I can to read it and tell me what they think. After this I will adjust everything accordingly, after which is the final edit. Once this has all gone down (and mind I may not finish this process for all the books in the series by the end of the 109 days but I will hopefully have done so for Book One), I will then print out as many hard copies of the book as is required as well as ensuring I have back-up copies of my work physically, on file, on USB, on disc and on my hard drive. Then I will complete the same process with my cover letter, my enquiry letter and the blurb about the story itself. I will then research a list of every publisher and every literary agent from every country that publishers in a similar genre to mine, and then following their submission guidelines to the letter I will submit as many copies of my work as I can. As well as this I will create business cards, go to writing festivals and plague parties where agents and publishers hang out. I will try to create a network of contacts and friends and practise as many writing habits as I can.

·         Volunteer Somewhere: I have always wanted to try and do something to just get out of my head, so I shall try.

·         Change my hair colour or style.

·         Travel somewhere.

·         Get my licence: Or at least begin to work on driving and obtaining it again.

·         Begin a savings plan: I will have three accounts; a general use account, a savings account and a back-up account. Three guesses? Heehee. But I hope through this plan that I can be pretty secure for the most of my life. The savings account mind, can only be accessed if I’m planning to get married, get a degree, buy a house or car or go on a world trip.

·         Go on a road trip somewhere: I know, hard to do so if I can’t drive, but maybe just go on one with some friends.

·         Lose 10 – 15 kg more: Or until I can fit into a size 6 – 8 pair of jeans.

·         Own a kitten.

·         Rent or Own my own room or apartment: But still be close to my family and friends.

·         Go to an opera.

·         Go to a musical festival.

·         Go to more parties.

·         Give more.

·         Host a party before the world is meant to end.

·         Put a video on YouTube.

·         Learn to play something.

·         Build a boat.

·         Create more.

·         Invent something or discover a theory of some sort.

·         Swim in the sea more.

·         Get a degree that will really make me think, or at least begin to save for one.

 

 

 

 

 

Deer in the Headlights by Owl City - LuvLuv xx