It's over and they're gone! *wails and sobs*

Merlin has ended, and I cried during that episode more than I have during probably all the movies I ever cried at. I don't cry too much, but I cried during and after, and---

I've tried to think of what to say, how to sum up my emotions and I just can't. There's just too much and all of it is spoiler-y for you people, and--well, I guess I'm just going to have to figure it out eventually. But for now, I just want to put this out there.

Thank you, our dear actors, for bringing to life these fantastic characters. Your writers may have written them into predictable plots that made us crazy, but it was always you that brought us back, eagerly waiting for more. You first pulled the legends down to earth, made them grow around our hearts, and then you brought up the legends to greater heights than before because it was real.

Your smiles were real. The characters became real and we loved them. We still love them, and even though it is fiction and we know this, we mourn their passing because they were as friends.

Thank you for bringing us on this journey with you and letting us live with you.



A/N: I'm going to have to figure out why this has made me so sad and angry and emotional. It's fiction. Why did I cry? Why do people cry during a movie/tv episode?

But at the same time I push those thoughts aside, because I know that what I'm feeling is real. Yes, it's fiction, but--perhaps the thing is that it's not fictional. As I said, the characters were real and we loved them and they're gone.

Merlin has ended.

Just not in our hearts.

(hopefully more to come soon)

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

I saw it!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yesterday!!! I saw it in IMAX 3D and with friends and it was awesome!!!!!

Anyway. I'm still sort of skating high on that. (We got posters. Four of them. Just for walking in the theater. They were Free. I am happy.)

Martin Freeman is a brilliant Bilbo. He just has that unflappable, somewhat dry humor though that's not quite right either, a sort of personality that says "I'd rather be sitting in my house smoking, but since I'm here I may as well make the most of it." and he does. He's the Everyman hero, a guy who just wants to get back home, and in so doing ends up becoming the bravest one of them all. It sort of reminds me of the soldiers in the Revolutionary and Second World wars. They were fighting for their home, and they won because there are some things you do not do, one of which is take a normal man's home. If he's a normal hobbit, the likelihood of you not surviving increases. If said hobbit is in the company of 12 loveable dwarves and 1 moody but still heroic dwarf (Thorin) and 1 wizard, well...your death likelihood increases dramatically.

there are quite a few battles in this movie. Some of them take place in flashbacks, but they are still very--uh...action-y.

Oh! Gollum! Gollum is spectacularly insane, talking (as in arguing) with himself. The dialogue between him and Bilbo is brilliant.

The part(s) where Bilbo finds the Ring are different than the flashbacks in the Lord of the Rings, of course, but I felt the way they did it was equally good.

Oh and Radagast! Oh, dear Sylvester McCoy, he is the brilliantly eccentric wizard who loves his animals and completely stole every scene he was in.

Even if Kili was doing his best to be all dark and handsome. :)

Bofur was amazing as well.

I'm a bit confused on whether they were trying to make Galadriel and Gandalf a couple, or just portray their friendship and loyalty. Because there's no way to do that without fangirls and shippers pouncing on it. (By the way, I realized yesterday that Galadriel is Elrond's mother-in-law.)

The scenery was amazing, more of New Zealand than we've seen, all of it lovely and fantastic.

The 3D experience is kind of odd for me. I'm not sure if it's because I wear glasses, so any other kind of lens makes my eyes hurt a little, or if everyone's like that. I'd heard that Peter Jackson (the director) was really excited about the 48 fps they were shooting in, that it made everything more clear and less blurry and better etc, but I found that sometimes, like when the camera was panning in a slow movement, it almost seemed more blurry than normal. Not sure what that was about. But the scenery did seem real. I'd heard it was so real it seemed fake, like instead of seeing a blurry castle you see a crystal clear set, but I was just impressed by everything. I think next year I'll see the regular version, though. I just don't really like 3D.

And I was a tad bit unhappy that I didn't get to hear Smaug's voice...yeah, fangirl admission there...but you will never believe what trailer they showed. Star Trek: Into Darkness. It has Benedict Cumberbatch in it. Ah, his voice! That deep voice was in a trailer and I heard it.

I'm so supremely happy with the whole entire experience yesterday that I'm not even counting yet.
Sort of.
There's 363 days until the Hobbit.
:)

Only 150 hours....

...until the Hobbit. 7 days. One week. Etc etc CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!!

I've faithfully scratched off each day on my countdown calendar, adding numbers in the corners. The bottom right is for how many days. The bottom left is how many weeks (used to be months, but we're into less-than-month-counting now) the top left is how many hours, and the top right is how many days until the DW Christmas special. (18)

There. Are. Only. 7. Days. Until. I. See. It.

7 days, you understand. 150 hours, currently. (in about 15 minutes it will be 149 hours) I've been waiting longer than a year, and it's only 150 hours away. Less than 150 hours, actually.

I am ecstatic. I am excited and I keep bouncing like that hopping hen in Between the Lions and I can't keep from humming and it's only a week away!

And...
Well...
See, I got to wondering (read: Dad made me think of) how much time and energy I'm spending on this movie. Not to mention money. And thoughts. And desktop backgrounds. Anyway, it's a lot of time.

But I got to wondering about how ridiculously jumpy and excited I'd be if I didn't know when it would come out. I know that I'll see An Unexpected Journey at midnight, Pacific Time, December 14th, 2012, in a certain city. But what if I didn't? What if they had never released the release date? I've known the day it was coming out for longer than a year! If, when I had first heard about it, they just said, "Yeah, it's going to be coming out soon," and that was all they ever said, what would I be doing then?

*dons black sunglasses and a walkie talkie and agent voice* Canvass all area theaters, run hacking programs on Mr. Jackson's computer, track cast and crew, stake out the theater most likely to show it first. May need to turn to those who can drive and ask for their assistance.

Or would I? would I just shrug and say, "Well, I'll keep tabs on the movie theater, I suppose." Would I be even more indifferent? "It's probably going to take them 5 years to come out with the movie, I've got other things I can be doing."

and that got me to wondering how the apostle Paul stood it. He "eagerly awaited" his Lord's coming, and he didn't know when He was coming. He did not have a countdown calendar, he was not counting the hours, but he was still as excited and ready at the end of his life for Jesus to come as when he had first learned of it.

And us? We tend to shrug it off. "Eh, He's been gone for thousands of years. He's not coming back any time soon. I'll--*swallows*--focus on this fictional movie and give it all of my time and energy." If we did know the exact hour Jesus was coming, what would we do? How would we prepare, if at all? (If I know when The Hobbit is coming out, how am I going to act?) If we don't know when He is coming, then what do we do? (and this is where the illustration goes a bit wobbly. Truth be told, if I didn't know when it was coming out, I'd probably forget about it.) Perhaps a better question is what should we do?

As the oft-repeated saying goes, "If you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what would you do today?" Perhaps a better saying is, "For all you know, you will die in the next second. How are you going to spend the rest of what little time you have?"

I'm still excited about the Hobbit, don't get me wrong--EEk! 149 hours!--but I'm going to try and spend at least an equal time thinking about my Creator. How about you? (and if you aren't spending it thinking about God, what are you spending it on? Family? Friends? Angry Birds? What really matters?)

I Foray Into Book Reviews

The Italian Secretary wasn't written by Arthur Conan Doyle, but it is very similar to all the ones that he did write. The language, the characters, are all much the same as the other stories.

This book's title refers to the 16th century murder of David Rizzio, the titular Italian secretary to Her Majesty Mary, Queen of Scots. It's as much a historical novel as it can be, set in Scotland in Holyrood House, amidst the proud reign of Queen Victoria. The story of Rizzio's murder is retold by Holmes himself, and his vivid language captures the imagination, turning the reader from a passive observer to a horrified witness who detests the acts of Rizzio's murderers.

Holmes is, differently than in the BBC series, a black and white advocate of good. He renounces murder, seeks justice, and doesn't just go about solving life-and-death puzzles for the fun of it. (not to bash the new series, but I think in even Doyle's stories Holmes always was concerned for justice, and though he did lapse into an appreciation of the villain's methods, he had no patience for miscreants who snuffed out lives, often far before they should have been. In this he is much like Agatha Christie's Poiroit. But I digress.) His and Watson's firm morals are always a welcome read.

Contrasted with the "good guys", of course, is the "bad guys". They are truly bad, greedy, selfish, murderous, crafty, cunning, and all the other things a proper Holmes villain should be. One of them (off-screen) has seduced one of the maids of the house, though nothing graphic is said, the only word used is "despoiled", and the young woman very much regrets her choices.

Mycroft also features in this story, with the murder of two of the men renovating the house being, apparently, a major cause for concern among the man who occupies a "minor position in the British government" (quote from the BBC series there). Their murders bear a remarkable similarity to Rizzio's murder, though I don't want to give away too much. The book takes a ghostly turn, with Holyrood House seeming to be haunted by the ghost of "the Italian gentleman", as the Scottish locals call him. Even Holmes gives credence to the power of ghosts, a fact Watson finds very unsettling. (It is a Holmes story, though--spoiler*)

There are, of course, murders, a few battle or fight scenes, one man is missing an eye and has a glass replacement that falls out--Watson is grossed out, if I may use the term--, the body of the most recent victim is described by Watson the surgeon, but it is, like everything else, not too graphic and very much in keeping with Doyle's manner. The psychology of the thing, the villain's plot, was always more important.

With all these elements, combined with a well-paced plot, (and a rather large and Victorian vocabulary), The Italian Secretary is a book I'd give perhaps a PG-13 rating, but heartily recommend to anyone else. It is a very fine addition to the already marvelous collection of Holmes stories, and a book I've already re-read.




*spoiler--though not quite a big one:


The ghost isn't real, though there's the conspirator who was never found who bore a remarkable similarity to the description of Rizzio. At the end, Watson follows a girl (also remarkably similar to someone who was murdered years ago) into an also presumably haunted house, only to find her gone, seemingly vanished. He weakly says that she must have ran into the other house, but the reader is left to think that she hadn't. Holmes then explains his statement, that he gave credence to the power of ghosts. He had meant that if people believe something, even if it isn't true, it gives it power, because this belief forces a person to act in a certain way. Even if you deny it's veracity, the very act of denying it proves its existence, because you must have something to deny. It's a rather true statement, actually.

I'm back....

So. I notice with a sudden flash of observational skills that the most recent post I blogged was on the final day of the month of August. It is with an equally sudden flash of brilliance that I realize this was--okay, so the flash of brilliance will have to wait, since I'm trying to do the math here. It is taking me a few seconds... (so it was September, then October, then November, and today's the first--)

Oh! Happy First Day of December! (yes, I know this is going up 9:30 Mountain time so it probably won't reach you in time. Consider yourself wished a Happy Belated First Day of December. So Happy Second Day of December.)

(so that was...) My last blog post was 3 months ago. Feel free to applaud my mathematical genius. I do not mind.

Ah. I still type in Nano-speak. (no contractions. Use adjectives. Etc.) For those of you who don't know, NaNo is short for National Novel Writing Month, which is the month of November, wherein people decide they have been lazy for far too long, kidding themselves with delusions of writer status, and in a leap of chocolate-fueled faith they attack their poor keyboard and pound out a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.

I also participated in the joyous madness of this year's NaNo. (I'm not counting last year's since I cheated and the ending was absolutely sudden and horrible) And I won! I wrote a 50,000 word novel in 30 days! Actually, I wrote a 54,427 word novel in 24 days.

So I now find myself able to ease back into the world of the living. Or, in my case, I rewarded myself with catching up on all the TV episodes I missed during those 24 days. And today I remembered that I have a blog. (okay, if I'm honest I remembered a while ago, but I was too lazy to--I'm not sure what, actually. Apparently I'm also too lazy to formulate a reason for my laziness, or even explain what I was lazy about. I was just lazy.) I blame exhaustion caused by chocolate withdrawal. See, I rewarded myself every 1,000 words with candy, mostly Junior Mints, but that's 50 pieces of candy and my precious store of Cheap Because of the Holiday Wherein It is Given Away Chocolate. I am now out of the CBHWIGAC. I'm calling it cheepie chocolate. (because when I looked at the letters the first thing I thought of was Chewbacca but I'm not calling my dear word count rewards Chewbacca) Without my cheepie chocolate every so often I've had to resort to other methods.

Did you know that there are 2 cups of milk needed to make one box of pudding? And did you know that we receive fresh cow's milk, four gallons, every week? And that we have to come up with ways to use this milk? And that my mother thus encourages chocolate pudding consumption? You do now.

Anyway, this is getting a bit long. I suppose I'll talk a bit about my novel, this blasted keyboard that I still haven't gotten used to--or maybe it's just because I always seem to be writing when I can barely keep my eyes open and my fingers become rather sluggish--, my excitement for the upcoming Hobbit film--

13 DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LESS THAN TWO WEEKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

--and a book I reread recently that I want to review because I want to review books on my blog. And a movie I recently watched that I want to review for the same reason. And I will probably complain about Merlin ending.

*sniffle*

And I'll probably make promises to myself that I'm going to write a humorous book next year that utilizes extensive use of the Traveling Shovel of Death. And broken and utterly smashed fourth walls. Until then, dear readers, farewell, and may the Force be with you.

(one day. One day I shall invent a new benediction. I shall be creative and not plagiarizing, even though I'm rather sure that one was public domain...)

Happy Last day of August!!!!

Hello! I've been lax in posting again, but at least I've been trying to notice things and figure out what to blog about.

Didn't really work: I'm going to blog about anything that comes to my mind.

You know, this is really frustrating, because I know I had something, but I forgot it and it's bugging me. Argh.

the season premiere of Doctor Who airs tomorrow.
Funny how you can write something and it sounds like you really couldn't care either way, but inwardly you're screaming in excitement and worry for your poor Doctor.

You know, I'm going to try imbedding a video. Or whatever it's called. *gasp* it worked! No spoilers, for you poor people still on season 3 *cough Hannah and Bekah cough*

 

But it's sad and worrisome: he looks like he's getting darker, and last time this happened--spoilers, but Time Lord Victorious, remember? I'm concerned that this means by the end of the season he might regenerate. Or die--fields of Trenzalore, the First Question, Fall of the Eleventh, and all that. And I don't want to say goodbye to Eleven. And somehow I gather that if we say goodbye to Eleven, we'll also say goodbye to River, which would be sad as well.

 

Anyway. I suppose that's it for now. Trivia: did you know that the Seventh Doctor wore a fez and held a mop first? M-hm, true story. Granted, it wasn't nearly as humorous as our dear Eleven, but he did do it first.

 

Geronimo!!!!!!!!!!!

In Which I Post Because I Can't Think of Anything Else to Do...

So, how do you guys like the new look? I'm liking this one, it's just perfect and all set up and all I had to do was click it and then apply to blog. (yes, this was one of the things I did while I was procrastinating (again) about posting) I love books. Speaking of which, have any of you read the Wormling series by Chris Fabry and Jerry B. Jenkins? They are VERY good, highly recommended.

Anyway. Camp.
*breathes in, breathes out*

Let's see. Some of you might not know about camp. Camp Elohim is situated in the mountains *cough like everything around here cough*, away from all distractions like the Internet and family (yes, dears...you are distractions. I love you anyway) and tv and xbox etc. It is a week-long Bible camp, and thrown in are shooting, rafting, swimming, hiking, crafts, games, GREAT FOOD, etc.

I first went when I was in 4th grade, and I've been going ever since. This was my 9th and final year(I started late) as a camper. Now, with Elohim the focus is on God the whole time. There is chapel and class in the morning, and chapel and campfire in the evening. and singing. I think it's mostly the singing that does it, and the great teaching, but by the end of the week you feel closer to God than ever. I guess the term is "camp high".

So this is my 9th year. for the past...6 of those, probably, I've experienced the camp high. we learn amazing things, and get all ready to go face the world and be the best Christian ever, and by the time school arrives we've forgotten most, if not all, of what we've learned. The last 3 years or so I finally noticed what happened, and each year I'd rededicate my life to Christ and next year I'd come back pretty much the same. For the last year or so God's really been getting on my heart about finding someone, an accountability partner, to do life with. Last year I told myself I'd find someone, but I didn't.

Not this year, I said to myself as I signed the application, not this year. This year, God, I will take whatever You teach me and use it.
You will not believe what we learned that week. Yep, it was all about Paul's life, and how he was never alone. How he always had someone with him, helping him. A Barnabas, an encourager. I had to smile, you know? Just a little extra proof that there's a God, and He has a sense of humor. (See platypus)

So that was cool, and that was just Monday. Then Tuesday our cabin (and two of the boys' cabins) went rafting. Rafting, usually, means gently floating down the Kootenai River and pretending to be scared of the small amount of "big" waves they have. This year, due to the torrential downpour of a winter/spring/early summer we've had, the Kootenai is full and the dam is spilling a lot of water over the top just to keep Lake Koocanusa from overflowing--no floods, though, which is surprising--, and that meant we couldn't float the Kootenai.

Instead, we floated Bull River. Well, we were paddling and splashing each other--lots of fun, even though it doesn't sound like it to a water chicken like myself and I still haven't figured out how to splash with the paddle unlike JACOB MACABEE and most of the boys--and the river was so low we had to drag it across sandbars sometimes. It was fun. And hot. Tuesday was the hottest day we had, and we rafted. Oh, perfection hallelujah. (Hannah rafted on Thursday, which was not the hottest day. Hee)

Wednesday [it was slightly cooler and] we hiked the Trail of Tears. It's about...two miles?...of sheer uphillness, known to strike the most expert hiker to his knees from oxygen loss and dehydration. (I'm not really exaggerating, just kind of) The "first" part is the uphill part, and--oh, info needed. I have low blood sugar, which means I need to eat every meal and I burn off meals very easily. I'm also not very active--for lunch we had little wrap things that, in hindsight, weren't nearly enough for me. I was out of breath after the first five minutes. My counselor and one of the girls in my cabin stayed just ahead of me; they're so very nice. I discovered something: your heart is a muscle, just like your arms and legs. If you want it to be strong, you should exercise it. Suffice it to say I have not exercised my heart (or legs) that often. I burned off all my lunch, too, and had to survive on berries and honey. [I'm not kidding, either. I had to stop and eat a honey stick that I'd brought with me, and that just barely got my strength up and Jacob Macabee came back to check on us--me--and when we started going again I found a couple Oregon grapes and thimbleberries and Jacob found a huckleberry for me, which was very nice since I hadn't actually eaten a wild huckleberry ever before. *braces for shock from fellow Montanians*]

But then I found that we were almost there. Spiritual lesson to be learned: just when it gets the hardest is just when something will come along and you'll find out you were almost done anyway, and you'll feel an immense sense of accomplishment for not giving up. Also, that you can't do anything on your own. Remember how I said God was really pointing out the need for accountability partners? Well, that time they were Lindsey, Becka, honey, Jacob, and berries. In that order. Anyway.

The waterfall.

Oh, yeah: Camp Elohim rite of passage: sitting under the waterfall. The girl doing it now was from my cabin...Rambo. Or Laurabeth. She did it for a grand total of six minutes, which was the record that week until the day afterwards, when someone did it for ten minutes. The biggest record ever is half an hour.

I sat under the little one to the right for about one second.

I hiked up above the main part, which I hadn't ever done before--it's beautiful up there, and it looks like an elfin forest, with all the trees covered in moss and all the straight cedar trees all around--since it was my last year as a camper and I wanted to. I applied the same reasoning to the waterfall, and I almost sat under it (the big one), but I decided not to, convincing myself it was because I couldn't figure out where to sit. Oh well.

So that was Wednesday. Thursday it was even cooler, in fact I think it rained, but ha-HA! We were shooting and doing crafts, both of which were under cover. I did very well in shooting those 22's--the best out of the girl campers, a 77 out of 80--and the craft was fun, a scrapbook thingie. I devoted a whole page to my prize-winning target.
I'm a bit self-centered, aren't I? Shame.

Thursday was also Family Night, in which the cabins introduce their family to their cabin and the cabin to the family and friends. And it is also the night in which the cabins perform skits for the attending family/friends/plus ones*. They were pretty good, with the usual mess-ups that only made it more perfect and voice overs from the plastic cone of awesomeness** and renditions of the Good Samaritan that had the priest owning a mad cow by the name of Angel Shirley Whompus. all good fun. I got to see my bestest friend*** and witness my four year old brother flirting with all the girls. I pity that kid's counselor already. And the camp director, Mr. Warren. And the other girls. I bet he'll have a blast at camp when it's his turn. Four years away, if I count correctly.

That Thursday quite a few people went home, what with sickness and work and other such stuff. It was kind of sad.

But that morning, we all were overjoyed--as in not--to hear what had become the camp theme song:

Way up in the sky, the big birdies fly,

and down in the nest, the little birds rest.

With a wing on the left, and a wing on the right,

the little birds sleep, all through the night.

The bright sun comes up, the dew goes away.

"Good morning! Good morning!" the little birds say.

{Optional ending:}

I jump out of bed, and open my window

and SMASH THAT BIRD'S HEAD!

Oh, that's just not the same unless you hear it. (see, "the dew goes away" is said in this macho voice, which makes the fact that the next line is said in a falsetto particularly funny.) Especially since the boys just loved that song to death. Literally. Coincedentally, I never heard or saw a bird that whole week.

Anyway. Friday. Friday is the sad day, it's when you know you'll have to go home the next day and you've only just now gotten to know your cabin mates and you wish camp lasted a whole 'nother week and Mr. Warren doesn't and you know a lot of you won't be coming back next year cause it's their last year as a camper and it's all very sad.

It's also the day in which we go to the lake. It was fun. Especially just floating around on these tubes we had. There were three little ones, and one big one. I think nine of us were on the three small tubes, and maybe ten or so were on the big one. The big one held those campers who liked to splash people, though. They were the Communists. We were the Allies. But we had a short truce at one point and when we were all grouped together it was a beautiful thing, almost our entire camp on black tubes of wonder. Well, looking back on it it was only half our camp. But hey. Beautiful thing of wonder and camaraderie.

We also got dragged around the lake by a boat. We were on this unsinkable floatable device, though, and Mrs. Cosgriff was under orders to not flip anybody. Except the last ride of the day, in which only the counselors went and she was allowed to try and flip them. But it was fun. I held one hand up in the air during the ride which was quite daredevil of me, if I do say so myself. (Yes, the other hand was holding on for dear life. Your point?)

That campfire, as per usual, was the best. The kids stood up and told what God had been doing in their lives that week. I stood up, too. Spoke about the accountability thing. It was amazing how many of us there were that had all experienced the camp high. Kind of like school, come to think of it. You labor through three years of Biology and Chemistry and Algebra and then they finally explain it the way they should have three years ago, because it finally makes sense. We all realized that our problem had been trying to go about the Christian life in the way it was not supposed to be gone about: alone. We also realized that technology was a beautiful thing and we could get ahold of each other very easily and it was a nice thing altogether.

And then Saturday, which is even sadder than Friday. You exchange addresses and get your shirt signed and hug each other and try not to cry and buy candy at the store and on the way home ease your sadness with chocolate. I love Rolos. Rolos remind me of Camp Elohim.

Anyway. that was a very long post too....Well, I think that's about it. Let me check for asterisks.

* Talking about you, Mitch.

** Seth (one of the guy counselors) is able to do cool things with his voice (like a cool Batman/Joker/evil guy/cool voice), and he was the voice of Jesus in the conversion of Saul. He had a great voice, this deep, drawn out voice like a masculine voice taped and then played back at half speed. It was great. He lost it towards the end (which was far longer than the boys in his cabin lasted and longer by far than the rest of the audience), but we all loved him anyway. Seth was the main perpetrator of the bird song. It's great, hearing the guys doing the falsetto.

*** I love you, Rachel! :)

so, I think that's it.



In Which I Finally Stop Procrastinating...

Sorry, so sorry, for the long delay. I've got quite a bit to tell all y'all, too...*long sigh* Here goes.

When last we left myself, I had just arrived in Denver. Spent some time there with family, which was great! I haven't seen many of them for quite some time. Then we left (on the bus...the bus again) for Ohio to see more family. Well, actually the family responsible for the entire trip. See, as a graduation present*, my grandparents paid for Mom and me to go to Cedar Point, which is a theme park in...Cleveland...Northern Ohio. They also paid for our bus ticket, which was very nice. Cedar Point was fun; I didn't go on many roller coasters [surprise, surprise] but it was big enough that there was still lots to do.

I should interject here that my mother and father (who both grew up in Ohio) remember Cedar Point as being far bigger than it actually is. Part of this is from them going when they were little, and everything seeming huge, and then they grew up and moved to lovely Montana where everything [meaning: actual, real, mountains] is bigger, but the towns and buildings and other such things are smaller, so Cedar Point probably did seem very big in their memory. "Silverwood [a smaller theme park sort of close to our house] could fit in the parking lot", I've been told.

It couldn't. Unless, as Mom thinks, the Cedar Point powers-that-be have expanded the park since she went and they encroached upon the parking lot. From my perspective, it's almost the same size. Sort of. Okay, not really, but it wasn't that big from the Ferris Wheel.

[I'll explain why I don't have any pictures later] **

Anyway, after Cedar Point we spent some more time with family. and since they have cable we sort of got introduced to The Mentalist. I dearly love The Mentalist. He's like the Doctor and Sherlock Holmes and everyone from Criminal Minds and he has a contagious smile. (Which also means he has heartrenching sorrow, like the Doctor, but that isn't important right now)

And you know how they have cable? Well, about a day before we left, I discovered they had BBC America. *facepalm* I want a word to describe the emotion you feel when you're flipping through the channels and suddenly you see Merlin and you look to the left of the show name and see BBCA. What you feel is joy that you've found the channel, horror that you never thought to look, excitement because it's Merlin (he also has a contagious smile, but thankfully that show doesn't quite delve into angst like our dear Doctor), and a sense of disappointment because you realize that you're leaving in two days and it's a weekend and they probably won't be showing reruns of Doctor Who.
What you say is sort of nonverbal, this huge intake of breath immediately followed by a smile and then this little "oh...." and a sinking into the couch.
I'd like to have a name for that emotion.

Anyway, that was a bit off-topic. We left Monday morning, got to eat Denny's with my grandparents before they dropped us off at the bus station, and then sort of sat in the bus station not really crying but not smiling and just then remembering to take pictures and laughing at ourselves because the pictures were going to turn out to be sad. Then the bus came (I think it may have been late, but I'm not sure. We were probably early) and we got on and settled in, having learned where to sit and how to sit to maximize comfort.

Let's see. Here it gets a bit confusing and the middle of the US looks the same and I wasn't quite sure where we were and I was sleeping through most of it. I think in...Indianapolis our bus was late, and in Chicago we had definitely missed our bus in Minneapolis, so we got our tickets switched around in Chicago, and then we arrived in Minneapolis but our bus was late again, so we missed the other bus. They wanted us to (a) reroute through Kansas, which would take a whole other day of on-the-bus misery, or (b) wait in Minneapolis for 12 hours, which is about what the Kansas route would take. We opted for b, and stayed in the bus station pretty much all day.

I was able to sleep for a couple hours, and then we watched the Mentalist all day (Mom and I had bought it before we left...:) ), then we had supper, then we left. I had wanted to be awake the second we crossed into Montana, my dear beloved state, but I fell asleep. I was sort of half awake when the driver announced, "Now stopping in Glendive, Montana, Glendive, Montana." I shot up and looked around. Not my part of the state, no decent mountains or trees, but it was still Montana. I whispered "Yes!" and punched the air. Mom smiled.

I hadn't ever thought of it before, but I'm sure Daniel and his friends missed their home. I could imagine them pointing out the strange new plants in Babylon, how different the humidity was, how they missed that particular hill that used to be on the horizon. I suppose that makes the fact that they still had a good attitude that much more amazing.

Anyway, we traveled on through the day and into the night, and once we passed a construction site, whereupon I spotted the TARDIS. :) That's what I thought, and I was proud of myself for immediately assuming that nice blue rectangle sitting in the middle of the road for no reason was a time machine. I'd like a name for that emotion, too. "It's the TARDIS! Oh, no, it's a--I can't believe I mistook the TARDIS for one of those. I probably just insulted Idris....well, at least I was loyal to my favorite TV show and thought of it first."

Anyway. One thing about Eastern Montana: it has beautiful thunderstorms. Here in the western part, you can see only the lightning right above you, because the trees and the mountains block out the rest of the storm. In the eastern part, you can see for miles [across the flat rocky terrain] and the sky is constantly lit with lightning. The thunder never seems to stop, and you can see the horizontal lightning strikes. Cloud-to-cloud, Dad calls it. It's beautiful.

I still love my mountains though. In Billings, you can just barely, just barely, see the beginnings of the Rocky Mountains. I remembered from when I went with Dad to Ohio and back. I missed the Rockies then too. It got me thinking about David saying in that one Psalm, "I lift up my eyes to the hills, from whence comes my help? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth."
I wonder what sort of poems David would have written if he lived here. :)

Anyway, we passed over the Continental Divide, through Bozeman and Butte (and that's pronounced with a long u, to you non-Montanian people) to Missoula, where we stayed the seven hour layover or so with a friend, and then back to Kalispell, where Dad met us.

Then we went shopping and I bought myself the lovely new laptop I'm typing on right now. Entirely coincedentally, it's the same as Hannah's. :) I bought a few other goodies for family and friends, then we came back home and we didn't hit any deer! Didn't even see any, which was sort of odd. I don't think it's hunting season...I guess God kept them off the road.

I remember back in 2003 we went to Ohio, our whole family, and we took the motorhome. I was...younger than I am now [not in the mood for math]...and fell asleep on the way back. I only woke up because we stopped (right outside our house), and it was night. I looked out the window and saw my dear pines and ponderosas and larches and asked Dad, "are we home?" He said yes, how did I know, and I replied, "because of the trees." Looking back on it, I don't think I knew I missed them until I saw them again.

It was like that with the trees around kalispell. They just aren't quite the same, and the distribution is off, and I'd never noticed them like that before. Oh, I left out one part. ;p Mom and Dad had to answer the call of nature, and they pulled off Highway 2, flashing the headlights on a road sign I recognized. 6 miles from home. *insert mental ecstatic cheering and wooting and laughing, but physical fatigue and a vague smile and a simple sitting up straight in the seat* We had to run a couple errands, mainly checking to see if Dad's van had been fixed yet--long story--, and then we pulled in, and *cough the trees were normal again and the horizon had a decent mountain range in it cough* FINALLY I was HOME!

My siblings--wait, let me tell you first that I love making posters for various occasions. Birthdays, holidays, etc.--my siblings had made a huge poster that said Welcome Home Mom and Liz. It made me very happy.

So that was...Wednesday...no, Thursday, because we missed Rebekah's camp skit. Right. So the next Monday, Hannah and I went to camp! I just got back *clears throat* last Saturday. And we had to install stuff on the new laptop, and I was still tired from the bus and camp tires you out quite a bit too and I had to clean my room and I was trying to figure out how to do the new Google email thingie cause I got a new email which I still have to give to people and I was trying to make it work on this blog but I couldn't and ended up just signing in with my old one and those are my excuses for not posting sooner.

It's the bus' fault, basically.
=D

So next time I post I'll tell you guys about what happened at camp, and what I learned, and how different it was since it was my last time, etc. But for now I'm tired and I'm going to bed.
Good night.

* Also for a graduation present, my dad's cousin (not sure what that makes her...) sent me a luggage set which was FANTASTIC and a great idea and blue and etc. Redundancy, ah well. I'm tired.
** Sorry, I never really explained that. The pictures are all on the other laptop that I used to have because I haven't switched them over yet.
I think that's it.

Happy First Day of July!

So, I has promised to post pictures, and so I has dutifully snapped pics during the bus ride. Well, dutifully in MT, where the scenery begged to be snapped. Not so much in Flat/Hilly, Sagebrush-Infested, Rocky Wyoming. Anyway. Here’s our first bus interior. And snack.

The buses were not invented for comfort. Not these ones. Trains have spoiled Mom and I. Buses are not trains. Sad. One day I shall invent bus seats that combine allowing the most space and seating on a bus with the most comfort. I shall become a millionaire, and then I shall build an indoor pool in my dear town. J

Here’s Flathead Lake.

Beautiful place, the Flathead. Lots of pretty trees and water. I love this one, taken just a short bit before Polson, I believe.

It’s one of those rare shots that is blurry, but seems to be intentionally so. Yay.

Let’s see…after Polson, the greenery grew a bit sparser, BUT! But with all the flatness comes all the ranches! And beautiful horses! But silly me just sort of watched them go by without taking a picture. And I was getting more tired, so the next picture isn’t until after a bus change in Missoula at 11:00 or so, and then a long ride in which I attempted to sleep and sort of failed (bus seats! *shakes fist*), and then woke up with the sunrise just before Billings, (I think)

Lovely sunrise. There was smoke or something on the horizon, and the sun was a beautiful shade of red. But my camera isn’t meant for taking pictures of sunrises. (None of them are, actually…it’s aggravating.)

Next is after the bus change in Billings and roughly half a day’s ride, into Wyoming. (State of the above-said hills and sagebrush and rocks)

Grateful to live in MT, anyone?

Although, I have to say: the rocks are actually pretty. But I prefer ponderosas and mountains.

And as I said, I want a pool.

This is the one with my cousin Christian's apartment, and you can sort of see Caleb, who has just jumped in.

I love my underwater camera.

Well, that’s my journey so far. Yesterday we had a barbeque, sort of a birthday party (for my aunt’s boyfriend Dave) and a graduation party (for me, actually. J) It was great seeing the family again. I haven’t seen most of them for several years. Everyone just gushed over Mom and how fabulous she looked.

So, once again, happy first day of July, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

(okay, that’s rubbish, I’m never saying that again)

In Which I Finally Post Something

It has been brought to my attention that I'm not really blogging like I should be. So here's a blog post.

However, the problem is that I have nothing to post…really. I mean, I could post something about a book I’ve read, or a song I’ve heard, or something I’ve seen. The problem with that is that I have nothing of interest that I’ve been doing lately.

Sort of.

There’s always the bike ride. See, my sister and my bestest friend have this sort of annual bike ride to Troy thing, and they convinced me  (and one of my other sisters) to join. So on the first day of summer, [which reminds me: Happy Belated First Day of Summer!] we rode. And I’m finally going to post pictures. But due to my Internet paranoia, they won’t really have faces. J

 This is four of the five bikes. My dear sister owns the one all the way in the back, mine is the yellow, and my dear friend and her dear friend own the other two. My other dear sister owns the one not in the picture. But it’s her own fault, really, for parking her bike all that way from the rest of the group.

This is the swinging bridge, although you can’t really see it and those darling trees are blocking the river. Stop Number Four or so. The Kootenai Falls.

 See, here’s the river. Part of it. I should have gotten better pictures. I’m blaming the camera. (and the trees--were it not for them, I could have gotten a shot of the falls)

And…behold the reason for the trip.

What, you thought we rode all the way to Troy and back for exercise? Bonding time with friends, old and new? A chance to praise God for His glorious creation?

Well, those too. But mostly R Place ice cream. They have the best. They stuff their regular cones full, like, really full. I got a root beer float, though. Haven’t had one since the Awana Destination Unknown. J

And I’ll just tell you: if you plan on a 30-ish mile trip on your bicycle,

GET A COMFORTABLE SEAT.

Seriously. I can hardly sit down right now, in the aftermath of that hard plastic bruising my posterior. Well, I mean, I can, if the seat is comfortable enough.

So I suppose my ‘lesson’ for today is go out and enjoy the beautiful weather that is sure to not last. J I’m not a pessmist, I’m just saying.

I HAS FINISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am officially done with school forever!

Ignore those little cynical voices in your head about to tell me /I'll always be learning something/what about college/school's never over/, and just celebrate with me!

I think I'd make this post a bit longer and add something hopefully profound, but as it is I'm slightly sick of the computer at this moment...*
But I just had to tell somebody!

So in closing, I'll finish with one last meme.

'Tis my attitude towards it, but I'm

FINISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Woot!

Here's to all you other still-in-school people:

(I'm homeschooled and it's a computer program and it took me a while today to get done and actually I sort of waltzed around and watched a few Sherlock Holmes (with Jeremy Brett) episodes before I finally decided to post.)

Spring Cleaning

In the interest of "spring cleaning" I've changed the design. Do you guys like it? (Can you read it...I'm a bit worried by the font but I couldn't find anything else I really liked)

Oh, and here's a poem I wrote for spring: (aka the poetry contest)

Spring Forest Haiku

Green, bright green of life;
Sticks and twigs litter the ground,
New pines poking through.

There, a fallen tree,
Laying, resting, inviting me;
Boat, bench, sofa, bed.

Here, a sturdy larch;
There, ponderosa stands tall;
Look, balsam fir sways.

Life, all around me,
Growing, spreading, flourishing,
And that's just the trees!

You like?

Crazy Love

So.

Crazy Love.

I've read it.

This is a review.



This is a really, really great book. Very well-founded in Scriputre. The author does use other speakers, but they are speakers who obviously got their words from the Bible. Some may accuse him of taking the Bible "too literally", but--come on, that is the lamest excuse ever. He proves every point he makes, and he proves it with God's own words.

In fact, one of the biggest "supports" I can give for this book is Matthew 7:17-20 (Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes from thornbushes or figs from thistles? Even so, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Therefore by their fruits you will know them.). Look at the fruits of this book, this teaching. Look at the lives that have been changed, and what results from people not only reading the book but applying what they learned from it to their lives. Even without 'firsthand knowledge', if you don't know anyone affected by this book, just think about it. What can come from this but good fruit?

Also, a caveat: this book is NOT meant to be read and checked off of a list of "good books to read" and then forgotten. If you have an intention anywhere even remotely close to such a thing, check yourself. Be prepared to change a lot of things in your life. History's main character, God, doesn't share face time nor should He, and He certainly won't say, "oh, I'm glad you have such a laid-back approach to Me. Take your time wasting the time I gave you and the things I gave you--no rush." Don't read this book if you don't want your life to change.

If, however, you do want your life to change, if you realize something is missing in your life and your everyday thoughts and actions, if you are willing to sacrifice things, then read this book.

If I may say so, God has got to be the biggest romantic out there. Prince Charming isn't even worthy to be compared to a faint outline left by His shadow. He woos us with His world, He proves His love with His action, and what can we do but return His love? His literally otherworldly, fanatical, crazy love?

Tagged (or not) List of Things that Shouldn't be on the Internet

Or, you know, that one game where people list 11 facts about themselves and then answer 11 questions. Both of these sets of 11 one should be wary of posting on the Internet. People read these things, you know. People you might not actually want reading 22 facts about yourself. Da Web can be a scary place.
Etc.
So...I decided to post 11 things about one of my story characters. I think...I'll choose Jasmine. Mayhap because I feel immensely sorry for Odhranna. (her name is subject to change without notice)
So Jasmine's 11 things about herself:

1. I am an elf.

2. I have the ability to mindvoice, which is using my mind to communicate.

3. I am friends with dragons, most specifically 2.

4. 3, later on.

5. I never knew my mother or my father.

6. My author finished writing my story during NaNo, which means that it is incomplete and she needs to finish it.

7. I am responsible for finding the last dragon egg of a certain tribe.

8. A dragon who lived long before I was born foretold my existence, dreaming of me and making a mosaic of Amethyst (one of my dragoness friends) and me.

9. I am engaged in war with Decevir [author's note here--I may change his name. *cough you can tell what it was derived from cough*], a he-elf from a different tribe than I.

10. My mother fell in love with my father when she rescued him from Decevir's prison.

11. I follow the Maker of All.

And this is me, not Jasmine now. I don't believe she can answer the certain questions I have from a certain someone. So no questions answered.

So in retrospect, this ended up being an advert for a story. Ah well. I shall not tag anyone, as per the instructions, but start a whole other thing for my fellow authors (and authoresses and authoresses who dislike the -ess part--you know who you are).

So the rules:

1. You must post the rules.

2. Post eleven fun facts about one of your story characters. (from their point of view, if you like)

Or...just do the other one floating around. Write about yourself. Your choice. :)

Oh yeah, and do the facts about Jasmine interest anyone?



From the Mouth of Elijah

Bryan Davis' newest book in the Children of the Bard series is here! Woot!
Well...actually, it isn't here. Not yet. BUT! It is available for pre-ordering, which I have just done. The link to do so is...http://www.daviscrossing.com/MouthElijah.htm <-- there.
As far as I know he doesn't have a specific release date, but sometime around July or August.
I do believe I'll have to have two counts on my calendar now: how many days till the Hobbit (249) and how many until July. Ah well. :)

So here's to hoping publishing goes well.

(a word which here means extremely fast)

I love you THIS MUCH!!!

You know when you're kids, and somehow or another the conversation turns to subjects like who is the strongest? Invariably, it will become a discussion that uses hand gestures to get the point across. "I'm this strong!" *holds hands about a foot apart*
Then there's those conversations where the subject is who loves Mom the most. Same hand gestures are used. "I love Mom THIS much!" *holds arms straight out*
Then there's that one guy who said "I love you this much", and he held his arms out.

I think He wins the contest.

Dear, dear neglected page...

So it's either good or bad that I haven't posted in a while. Good because it means I'm busy with more "important things". Yes, observant people, I put that in quotes because it relates to the bad part a bit more. The "more" important things, in this case, would be things like (writing) stories, (reading) fanfics, monkeying around on Pandora, catching up on TV shows, etc.
Instead of the really more important things like spending time with my family, getting into the Book, praying, school, exercising *cough I'm really out of shape and the sun is calling cough*, and other things that should take my time away from posting on here. So I suppose my excuse for not posting is that I feel guilty about not having a valid excuse to not post.
Yes, I realize it's a bad excuse. Ergo, the post. :)

Random update: I have discovered Pandora. My favorite part is when it goes from a soft Chris Tomlin song to hard Thousand Foot Krutch song. I loves it. =D
Random update 2: Be sending thoughts of encouragement and prayer my way, if you could. I have decided (about *counts* 6 lines above) to spend more time outside this spring/summer. Walking, gardening, digging trenches because our dirt here is mostly clay and does not absorb the water and therefore we have to guide the water away from the house because otherwise it floods our basement, and building a treehouse. Or, you know...a board nailed to a tree upon which we can sit. A treechair. Sounds good.

To the Author of Spring and Giver of Colors, Sounds, and Textures, I salute You.

Killed off Characters

While aimlessly wandering around YouTube, I recently stumbled across an interview with Bryan Davis. It was a relatively old interview, put up in 2009, but still good. After one question which it appears I have forgotten, Mr. Davis stated, "All my stories have a theme of redemption." Which is VERY true. Anyone who has read his books knows that, and I blurted out, "Translation: he kills off our favorite characters." (whether or not that's exactly true is open for interpretation)
However, that got me thinking about another great Author, one who effectively 'killed off' the main character.
I'm talking about the Bible and Jesus. Do we ever think about how it actually is one story, and one in which the main character dies? And yet! And yet it's so much more than that, because this main character came back to life!
I don't know where I'm going with this, but it is food for thought, I suppose. The Bible is THE most AWESOME book ever, and God is THE best Author EVER.
So here's a book recommendation: A book that has it all, the book that is so cool it has a Greek word for its title, one that simply means The Book.

Running by Trees on a Sunny Morning

So...for an elective writing class I'm taking we had to rewrite a Robert Frost poem (Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening). In it we had to stay close to the original meaning, but change all the important words and keep 'unimportant words' (like whose, his, I, etc.) Hence the name. Running instead of stopping, trees instead of woods, sunny instead of snowy, etc. And that's just the title! (wow. I sound like an infomercial. I'll stop now.)
My rather loose interpretation of "original meaning" in this poem is "okay...the guy is enjoying nature"
So here it is!

Whose trees these are my mind will hold.
His dwelling’s in the city bold;
He will not care if I run by
To dash around his leaves of gold.

My racing feet must think they fly
Above the ground and in the sky
Beneath the sun and sparkling blue
The warmest morning of this time.

They brush the grass perhaps in lieu
Of asking earth to spring anew.
The only other touch is felt
A gentle breeze and warm sunbeams.

The trees are orange, red, russet.
But I have places, things to get,
And far to run until sunset,
And far to run until sunset.


Hope you guys like it!