Spirit Day

Today is Spirit Day. Spirit Day, for those of you who don’t want to click the link I left back there, is basically a day to remember those who have lost their lives due to bullying and to promote the end of bullying. It originally started in 2010 to support the LGBT youth who were committing suicide because they were bullied.

And I full heartedly support Spirit Day. I was bullied as a child. I had books thrown at my head, was told I had no friends because I was fat, was made fun of left and right. I was also a bully. I will fully admit to it. I never physically bullied anyone, but I called kids names. I also had a very good mother who helped me curb my feelings into something positive and I became the good person I am today.

Yes, I believe that bullying is wrong. When it’s physical, when it’s done in more than just a playful way, when it drives people to kill themselves. But I also believe that bullying is part of growing up. It happens.

Here’s  my big point of the post:

STOP PICKING ON THE BULLIES!

It doesn’t make you a better person to call a bully a coward. To make THEM feel lower than the low.

Don’t believe me?

I found this comment on an article-type thing about how wrong they think bullying is: “Bullies are cruel. Somebody should show them how to behave right, because obviously their parents didn’t have time to teach them manners.” This comment was made by Natalie on Oct. 10, 2012 @ 1:49am. If I knew how to open up just the one comment on that site, I would have, so sorry that you’ll have to search a little for it, but it’s honestly only a little farther down. That picture is also kind of mean, but whatever. Art is art is art.

Another quote by some lady I’ve never heard of but come up on quote gathering pages, her name is  Anna Julia Cooper (and from the looks of her other quotes, she doesn’t seem very nice at all). Here’s her quote: “Bullies are always cowards at heart and may be credited with a pretty safe instinct in scenting their prey.”

Even Sarah Silverman tweeted “Fun fact: Cowards aren’t always bullies but bullies are always cowards.”

Tell me, what is the difference between what these people, and countless others, are saying and what bullies say? Is it because bullies pick on the people the world deems as the weak?

There is no difference. Now you’re just being mean.

So, next time you see someone picking on someone else, don’t just run up and defend the little guy. Help the bully. Help them understand and direct their confidence (because that’s why they do it, I have the studies to prove it) towards something better. Help both parties, don’t help one and shame the other.

Because words hurt. They hurt everyone.

I Believe in You!!

Ah, October, the month of so many things to do. My birthday, Halloween, costumes, school.

And prep for NaNoWriMo.

Now anyone who has a pair of eyes can see my badges off on the side of the page and they can see that most of them say ‘participant.’ Not ‘winner’, but ‘participant’.

I have no shame saying that I didn’t win those years. I tried and ya know, that’s what matters. But sometimes things come up, etc, etc. If I had shame in the fact that I tried and did not succeed, I would not have those lovely little badges over there. But I am actually proud that I tried. Because there are a lot of people out there who just don’t try.  There’s a lot of people out there who don’t try a lot of things, like sky diving, base jumping, sushi, or even being nice.

But I try. And I am proud of that and I will let my tried flags fly!

I’m even going to add another one. Will it maybe change to a ‘winner’ flag this year? I don’t know, it might, it might not. But whether it does or not, it will sit there with the others saying ‘It’s okay, Jesi, you tried and that’s what matters’.

All of you, try-ers and finishers, I believe in you! I believe that you can do whatever you want if it makes you happy! Do it, dabble in it, maybe even finish it! Do it and be proud of yourself! And if anyone says anything to you about it, just hold your hands out and say

I love you all!

Laters!

(PS, I think switching to WordPress was the best thing I’ve ever done <3 ))

Lately I’ve felt this odd feeling. And I don’t really like this odd feeling. It’s the feeling of not writing. And not having that umph to write. It’s a pain, because I know I love writing. Sure, I roleplay with a friend every day, and I suppose that counts as writing, but it’s all one line from one character’s POV. Yeah, I get practice keeping from that person’s view, but it’s not writing. Not real writing. If I were writing paragraph upon paragraph of content for the RP like I used to, then I would count that as really being creative and in depth, but I’m not. It’s literally one sentence at a time. Sometimes a max of like, five sentences.

So the other day I decided I was going to sit down and actually write a story.

Nothing.

No idea for plot, no idea for characters, no idea for anything.

It kinda hurt. It kinda hurt bad.

Well, okay, I should really rephrase what I said above. The RP isn’t the only writing I’ve done. I have been writing small bits and pieces of my novel. A couple hundred words here, a few hundred there. That should count, right? I am writing creatively.

So I’m going to rephrase what I said to I haven’t been writing consistently, and no short stories have come forth from this brain of mine.

Okay, and I did write two stories for contests, one was just over 2,000 words for the Defy the Dark contest and one that was just under 600 words for round 9 of the NPR Three-Minute Story contest. I can’t count those out.

On the side of excuses, I have been working a lot and going to school two days a week as well. So I’m busy doing stuff seven days a week. But I don’t normally work 40 hours a week. And school ends on Wednesday at 1 and I have nothing to do after that but go home. I could write something. Anything! There is time in there between studying and working and school.

Excuses, excuses. Screw the excuses!

Point being, I need to write more. Can’t hone a craft without actually doing it.

What do you do when you haven’t written anything big in a while? What do you do to get yourself out of a slump? How often do you write?

Laters!

Dear Blogger,

Dear Blogger,

I’ve been putting this off for a while now, but not you’ve forced it on me. This new look of yours… to put it bluntly, it’s ugly. I don’t like how it looks, it’s not streamlined. It’s just ugly. Please let me have the old look back. Please. I don’t like this at all! :(

In other news, I hear that people may be having problems commenting on my blog. My dad said he tried posting twice and it didn’t work. I’m going to see what I can do about this.

Laters!

Editing

Editing can suck. It can suck a lot to have to go through your manuscript and cut out chunks of what you wrote, chunks of what you think may be the best shizz in the whole damn book. But if it doesn’t fit, it must go.

When my dad writes his stories, he always makes sure to write 10% more in word count than what he wants it to be in the end, because he says there some equation out there that says when you edit, you’re supposed to lose 10% of your word count. For reasons of having wordy sentences, chunks that don’t belong, extra words, etc.
I’ve never subscribed to that. How does taking stuff out make something better? Also, with the way I write, I don’t put in things that don’t help the story in some way. 
Back when I first did NaNo, I went into the plot help section and found the dares. For those of you who don’t know what the dare are, it’s like a real dare, but you have to put something into your story. Like one of the dares I took was to have a reference to Romeo and Juliet and how the two lovers would meet up a few times then kill themselves (I don’t have the exact dare, for some reason). Hell, I had a whole damn list of these, but I wouldn’t use them unless I could work it into the story.
Here’s my excerpt for the Romeo and Juliet line. Keep in mind, this is four years old and never been edited. There’s also a warning for language. (A little info: Carrighan is an Angel of Hell, well known Angel killer, and Lucifer’s former best friend. Demetrios is an Angel who was sent to Earth to kill Carrighan, even though Deme has been in love with Carrighan since before Lucifer and his followers were banished from Heaven. They struck up a deal that Carrighan would give Deme insider information from Hell and Deme would let Carrighan live in peace).
“Kill me, Carrighan,” he said with sorrow in his voice. “If it’s what you want then kill me! If this is all you want from me then take it and let me be! But don’t tell me you can’t because I know you can!”
His voice was beginning to crack as he spoke and tears ran his face, mixing with the continuing rain.
Carrighan shook his head, backing away until he hit the house, pressing against it. “I can’t Demetrios!”
Thunder broke the sky as the Angel yelled “Do it!” The resolution of his decision was on his face along with the sorrow.
Carrighan couldn’t take looking at him any longer and another wave of anger poured through him, this time at himself for not doing something about this. He grabbed Deme by the shirt and pulled him close bringing the knife to his neck and pushing his head back. He stared at the one in front of him, his heart racing his anger melting away and turning to self-hatred and guilt as he did this.
 “I can’t do it because… I love you…” he let the Angel go as his hands fell to his sides, the knife hitting the ground.
Deme stared at him with a mirrored confused expression.
“I… love you” he whispered, the confession lifting his heart but sent a whole new wave of terror through him. He couldn’t love an Angel, that’s impossible, it couldn’t happen! And he wouldn’t allow it. His wings spread and he took to the air flying over Deme’s head and taking off into the trees.
Deme turned on his heel after a moment and took off after him.
“Carrighan!” he called after the dark winged one ahead of him.
The other man didn’t slow at all. The winds changed and pushed Carrighan back from where he was trying to go, though he had no destination in mind.
He just wanted to get away from Deme.
“No! No! No! No! No!!” he whined but the winds were too strong. He fell to the ground, landing on his knees. His wings fell around him and he looked down, hair hanging in his face.
“Carrighan…” Deme approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Why are you running from me? If what you say if true then…”
“Then what? Huh?!” He lifted his head and looked at the Angel some emotion in his eyes but it was undecipherable.
“Well… we can be like Romeo and Juliet.”
Carrighan scoffed. “What? We meet a few times then kill ourselves! That sounds like some great fucking plan, Juliet!”
Deme shook his head. “No, I meant in the star crossed lovers way without the whole death thing. We’ll just live our lives together.”
“No,” Carrighan tore his gaze from the face of the man he… he loved. “It’s not going to happen.”
He stood up and turned to stare at the other one, his eyes in slits.
“I will not going down as a fucking Angel lover!! I hate Angels and of all the fucking goody two shoe God loving fuckers I hate you the most!”
He was breathing heavily as his eyes opened to their regular size.
“No… I don’t hate you” he whispered once he saw the hurt look on the Angel’s face. “But I can’t love you. I can’t; I never should have started this stupid thing. If… If I had just told Lucifer to fuck himself I wouldn’t be in this mess with you. I could be living my life the way I want to not… not depending on love from you! You of all people in this fucking world!”
He had backed away.
“I… I have to go. Don’t come find me and don’t come after me.”

 Guh, I love these guys! But that’s beside the point. I made the whole Romeo and Juliet thing mesh in with the scene. There was also a dare about going to an amusement park, that I made a HUGE part of the plot.

I don’t word fluff. I put in what needs to be put in there, so to think that I have to cut 10%… that’s just stupid.

I actually amazed my dad when I ADDED almost 2,000 words to my first draft of The Doc Is In. And I think I still added more to it when I did the next draft.

So maybe editing isn’t as bad as it could be, because sure, I’m making it better, but it’s still a pain in the ass, lol.

I had something else I was going to say, but I forgot while going through that old manuscript of mine and falling in love again with my Deme and Carri.

How do you guys feel about editing? Do you adhere to the whole “take out 10%” thing? How does that make you feel, whether you do it or not?

Laters!

Until The End

It’s been a while but… I’ve finally written something again. It’s a short story that nearly made me cry.

I’ve written a story like this before, where Mikey, my Michael Dove, dies. I’ve always had it set that he was going to die just days before he turns 30 and that his final words are “Zachary, you moron” as Zack holds him as he dies. Well, I’ve fleshed it out a bit more, since my bff, who created Zack, made Zack’s best friend an FBI agent.

So, to give you a little cap, Bill’s real name is Rafael and he’s an FBI agent. Michael Dove, aka Mikey, is a hit man and Zack, aka Zachary, is a hit man in training being trained by Mikey. Mikey and Zack are in love, though it’s kept secret. Not going to go over their whole story, too much to put down.

Any ways, here we go! My story!

“Mikey, don’t make me do it!” 
“My name is Michael, Rafael. Or should I call you Bill?” 
Bill’s hands shook as he held the gun up. “Mikey, just put the gun down and come with me. Please. I don’t want to shoot you.” 
Michael straightened up, wincing as the pain from the bullet in his side shot through his body. The gun fight with Bill’s partner had left him wounded. But if Michael looked bad, the dead partner looked worse. 
“You won’t shoot me. You lack the conviction to do it,” Michael said with a smirk. 
Bill wiped sweat from his brow with his free hand. “Mikey…” 
“My name is Michael!” 
Bill visibly jumped as the door slammed open. Michael barely turned his head.
“Drop it, blondie!!” Zack yelled, gun raised and aimed at the offender. 
Bill, already on edge, spun. 
Michael never moved quicker, but as the explosion of the gun filled the room, all he could think about was protecting Zachary. He gasped as the searing hot bullet hit him, a new pain slamming through his body. 
“Mikey!” Zack yelled .His gun clattered on the ground as his arms wrapped around Michael’s torso to keep the man from falling. “What did you do, Bill?!”
“Zack I… I didn’t mean to!” 
Zack could feel the sticky warmth soaking through his sleeves as he sank to the floor, Michael held against him. 
“Mikey, Mikey please…” 
Michael’s breath was shaky at best and not getting any better. 
“Zachary…” he managed. 
“No, no, don’t talk, Mikey. Bill, call 9-1-1, god damn it! Call for help!” 
Michael shook his head as Bill fumbled for his cell phone. 
“No, Mikey, don’t go, please! God, no!” His voice cracked. Tears were spilling down his cheeks and there was nothing he could do to stop them. 
Michael’s head fell back against Zack’s chest. His skin was pale and his eyes were distant. 
For a moment, they focused on Zack’s face and a faint smile formed on his lips. It was quickly gone and replaced with a scowl. “Zachary… you moron…” 
His lower lip shuddered as his last breath left him. 
“Mikey!” Zack cried, burying his face in the other’s dark brown hair. “You killed him, Bill! You killed Mikey!” 
Bill slowly back up, hands raised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to hurt him…” 
Zack glared at what he thought was his best friend. “I’m going to give you five seconds to get out of here. If you’re still here, then I can’t be held responsible for what I do.” 
Bill nodded and was gone. 
— 
The week passed like a blur. The funeral was like a movie on mute. Zack barely registered the thirteen year old boy stand by his side, shaking slightly with tears; the older man leaning heavily on his cane, the scar over his eye looking more vicious as no emotion passed on his face. 
The black coffin hovering over the hole was a simple black casket. It suited Mikey’s tastes. Zack had seen to that much. The rest of it he left to Kostya. 
He ditched out on the wake afterwards. He wasn’t that hungry anyways. And he had other things to do.
It was a short drive to the apartment he knew well. He’d first come here years ago, back in high school when he first met Bill’s older brother, who wasn’t really his brother, just some other agent there for the case. Who then left for college or something like that. The memories were bitter sweet. 
He found the door unlocked and entered quietly. Boxes were scattered around, things half thrown in them, half spilt on the floor. Bill had been in a hurry to leave. Had he been trained by any less of a hit man, Zack would have assumed Bill had left already, but he knew better. He’d seen that blonde mop poke out behind a tree at the funeral.
He was still here. 
“I’ve been waiting for you.” The voice almost startled Zack. He turned towards it origin and saw a few blonde curls sticking up over the top of a high backed chair. 
“I can tell. You didn’t even finish backing, dude.” He was surprised by how flat his voice was. Had he really come that far? 
Bill chuckled faintly. It was a sad sound and caused Zack’s heart to ache father. 
“I didn’t see the point.” 
“Why didn’t you run?” 
The curls shook. “You’d come find me. Might as well face it head on.” 
Zack took a few steps towards the chair. 
“I’m sorry, Zack. I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.” 
He froze, fingers wrapped around the cold steel of the gun. “Don’t say that, Bill.” 
“But it’s true…” 
“I don’t want to hear it!” he barked, a new wave of tears breaking forth. “You killed the man I loved! You’re my best friend! I shouldn’t be… I shouldn’t be here doing this right now. We should be… we should be out skateboarding or something, man!” 
The room fell into silence. 
Zack shook, trying to pull himself together. He couldn’t afford to get all emotional, that was how mistakes were made. That was what Mikey always said, anyways. 
“I killed him,” Bill said in a dead pan. “I killed Michael Dove, one of the best hit men in the world.” 
Was his voice shaking? Or was that just Zack’s ear drums? 
“My name is going to be everywhere. I’m going to be a hero.” 
“Shut up!” 
“I’ll be all over the news, Zack. They’ll praise me!” 
“I said shut up!”
“I killed him, Zack!” 
There was pain in Bill’s voice. Some part of Zack’s brain picked up on it. Bill wasn’t gloating. He was trying to make it easier on him. 
“I shot Michael Dove!” 
The quiet hissing of the silencer was the last thing Bill would hear. Zack shook, the gun still aimed at where his best friend’s head had just been. He’d just killed his best friend. 
He pulled the gun back and placed it back in its holster. 
“Good bye, Bill.” He turned and left, locking the door behind him.

And… end. I like it. I didn’t edit it or anything. Just went with it. *sniffles*

Let me know what you think!

Laters!