A Surprisingly Violent Musical

Last night I went to the Muny again with my mom and we saw Little Shop of Horrors.  This musical, as you may or may not remember from the best documentary ever, was written and originally directed by Howard Ashman.  But let me tell you, this ain't no Little Mermaid.

The premise is itself kind of violent and unconventional:  Seymour (our hero... ?) works at a florist shop on poor Skid Row and has an interest in unusual plants.  One he can't find in his botany books and names it Audrey II (after the lovely but battered Audrey who works in the shop with him).  He puts Audrey II in the window and business immediately picks up.  But the plant is still wilting.  Seymour has tried everything to revive the plant, but the solution comes when he accidentally cuts his finger, and a drop of his blood slips into the plant.  The plant licks its lips (it resembles a venus fly trap), clearly wanting more blood.  How much more?  As the plant grows, the body count grows as well to make for a surprisingly violent musical.

I had never seen the play before or the movie, so  I had no idea what to expect.  It was certainly enjoyable, and the lyrics were clever as Ashman's always are, but the story was taken to a surprising level of grittiness.  Audrey has an abusive and sadistic boyfriend, who calls her a slut and even hits her onstage.  I was definitely not expecting that.  Oh, and the boyfriend's song (about how he loves causing pain) starts with him saying how as a kid he liked shooting dogs with his bb gun.  Wow.  It ends up being a funny song, about how his mom saw this behavior and said, hey I know what you can become with that clearly sociopathic issue.... a dentist!  Anyway, it sounds pretty awful, but it was kinda funny.

The other songs were pretty good.  My favorite was the first one they sang, "The Little Shop of Horrors".  For some of the songs, there was this barbershop trio of women who spiced up the numbers. Although their parts were relatively small, I really liked the three of them.  

I have to say I was not expecting the ending.  I won't spoil it, but it was also rather dark for a musical.  I will say this: don't feed the plants.

Clinic

Okay guys this is my first crack at poetry. Do not be alarmed at my mental state, but I am really mad at a piece of legislation and the closing down of crisis clinics in my area. Here it is "Clinic":

I am cut open like a trout
Feast upon the entrails
Consume the bloody mass

Picking the lillies by the day
War became an open day
Sometimes I believe in god

Sometimes not

Willow, willow
I was eviscerated by the tree
They feast upon my lillies

They gut me like a trout
I watch as they slowly let me die
I watch as the monsters eat my entrails

Sometimes I believe in god
Mostly not

There is a knight who should save me
Sometimes a fairy comes my way
Both do not cut off my head,
But leave the scourge to eat my entrails

There is war
I pick lillies as the soldiers go by
No coat hangers to rid the baby inside

They gut me like a trout
Entrails soaking the lillies
The unwanted child allowed to die
Sometimes I believe in god

Forever not

Cool Interview

Hey guys,

Because I'm having a little trouble letting go of Harry Potter (don't judge me!) I happened upon this article where they interview Jason Isaacs (aka Lucius) about his time in Harry Potter. And Cylon, I know you're not a Harry Potter fan, but I think you'll still find it interesting. He talks about playing what is basically a white supremacist even though he's Jewish, and even talks about how they didn't want him to have blonde hair originally, but he insisted because he wanted to have fun dressing up as a wizard. It's really interesting to hear his perspective on the character. Check it out here!

Also, I miss you guys constantly. <3

Vlogbrothers Video

This video is from two nerdy brothers that I follow on youtube. He talks a little about bullying and some other stuff. I'd thought I share it with you guys because it's people like this that give me hope for the world. Seriously, I love these guys.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmEmvKaKt5A&feature=feedu

Not a Bang, but a Whimper

The ad agency I was interning at closed yesterday.

Just folded like a five-dollar suitcase.  No warning.  I walked into work yesterday, the owner and hr lady brought me into her office and said "We're closing."  Oh, and "Let everyone know to come see me when they walk in."  What a happy job that was.

I didn't turn on the music in the lobby.
I didn't think this needed a soundtrack.

The past few weeks I had noticed some money problems and I wasn't expecting a job offer from the company at the close of the internship anymore, but I was expecting another month of looking for a real job.  My dad says this is almost better, now I can focus all my energies on me and stuff I need to do to get a job, instead of doing it in between shipping things or answering phones.  Which is true.

It was so strange to be there at the close though.  People who had worked there for years and had so much shit accumulated in their offices were cleaning them out.  Taking loads out to their cars.  Like they were suddenly evicted.

These experienced, older people are now in the same boat I'm in: unemployed.  They all wished me luck, it's a small town maybe I'll see you, handshakes.  The production guy, who was easily my closest friend there, said keep in touch, if I come across any writing jobs I'll let you know.  I don't say goodbye. Good luck.  The account guy said, oh I'll be fine, you stay in touch with the creative director.  The creative director said, yes send your stuff to me and I'd be happy to take a look at it.  (Was is my imagination -did he also say, I think you're a talented writer- )  And, sure I can give you a reference.

The mood is harder to recreate.

Even though I had my issues with that place and the work I was (wasn't) doing, I was still emotionally affected by the proceedings.  The expressions exchanged: surprise, resignation... fear.  The phrase, "Well, what are you doing tomorrow?"  I had little invested here, but I was still anxious and even kinda sad.  I had points of contention with the place, but I didn't want it to go under.

They had been in business for 30 years.

Many made phone calls to loved ones, spouses, parents,,, prospective employers.  My mom called me in the morning.  In hushed tones:  they're closing.  Today.  I'll be home early.

As I got off the elevator for the last time, I thought it resembled a star in the process of dying.  But not a supernova, the other way, whatever that is.  Not an explosion, not angry, not a bang.  But a fizzle, a disintegration, a whimper.

Death of Literature

This is totally real.
Literature is officially dead.

http://www.penguinbooksindia.com/section/PENGUIN_CLASSICS/Black_Classics/Little_Women_9780143105015.aspx

Mashup

Okay, so I know this is a bit few years late, but this trailer is amazing and shows how similar two films could be.

http://vimeo.com/9389738

Also, all my comments have been disappearing and I don't know why.

Looky here...

... a fabulous post on another fabulous blog:  Where have all the books gone?

I think, Cylon, you are not a follower yet.  I implore you to amend this. 


Also, casual followers and stumble-upon visitors to this blog, check it out, follow, comment, enjoy: Shannon the Intern.

Fake Hicks?

This is something I learned when I was up north with my family and forgot about until now. Did you know that in Virginia there is such a thing as poseur hicks? Like, upper middle class kids that dress up in really trashy baseball caps and hunting gear and stuff like that?

In Watertown there were always white kids pretending to be black. I didn't know that anyone was trying to emulate us. I find this hilarious.

Grace The Temp?

I had a meeting at FlexStaff today (an office temp agency) and it looks like I'm going to start a data entry job in a week. It pays ten-eleven dollars an hour and the first week is just training. Yay!

Even though it's just a temp. service, I got a good vibe from them. The woman I spoke with was very nice. I really felt like they were trying to cater to my needs.

One sort of awkward moment was she asked me who she should contact for proof of employment at The Daily Iowan. I told I wasn't sure what number to give her so she asked if I knew who hired me.

Who hired me at The Daily Iowan? I don't have a clue who hired me. The inner workings of The Daily Iowan are multi-faceted and mysterious to me. I don't know who hired me. I don't know who signed off on my salary. I know that one of my teachers was on the board for The Daily Iowan and who KNOWS what they did. It's like a little cabal.

Anyway, while my family was here I told them that I signed up for this temp agency. Some of them said that it was a good place to start and that, you never know, they could place you somewhere great.

I feel like I should emphasize that I have NO intention of being placed permanently anywhere. I don't want to do data entry for my whole life. I don't even really want to do it for a full year. This is not where I want to live. This is not where I want to end up. One of my biggest fears (in addition to the dark and police cars) is that I will never get out of Wisconsin and I will be forced to marry Jackson Palmer who only agrees to the marriage to get into my family and so that he can leech around my sister for the rest of his life.

Not that I think it'll happen, but I just feel the need to emphasize the temporary aspect of this temp job.

Savior!

Today at work we had to do a tutorial for a new technology that I unfortunately do not have. I thought it was going to be dumb and give me ample scribble-in-my-notebook-time. Then I was amazed.

It's called a livescribe pen. What it does (I will attach their website below) is that it is just like a regular pen, but it has a camera and an audio recorder. What it does is that while you are writing on their special paper it is recording the strokes of your pen. When you are doing an interview or talking to yourself it records the audio of the person's dialogue as you write. After you record the audio and write down what the person said you can do a playback of what the person said by touching the pen to the paper where you want to start the audio. It automatically starts.

You can connect the livescribe to the computer and the pen with its little camera has recorded what you have written by the pen strokes and voila your handwriting is on the computer. No scanning, you just upload the file onto the computer from your pen onto the livescribe website through your pen. If you recorded audio with the writing, you can watch as the audio highlights the words the person is saying. If this is confusing, here is the tutorial: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gO5GwLFlN3s&annotation_id=annotation_752605&feature=iv

Why is this important? Well it is mostly if you are a person who cannot write on a computer like me, and like a good, sturdy legal pad. What is even better is that my ideas usually come faster than my handwriting so I can have audio.

I wish I knew about this technology back when I was talking notes frantically and could not keep up. I sound like an advertisement, but it really is one of the greatest technologies I have seen in awhile.

Here's the website:
http://www.livescribe.com/en-us/

Frustrated Poetry

Well, since you seemed to want it, here it is.  A series on my disillusionment.

6/2
start
start here
                they say
you'll have a nice start
    here
jumping off point
jump
am I ready to jump
have I not been taught
to jump
quite well
amply
I can jump
just tell me how high
just tell me
tell
can you tell I'm ready
to jump

all grown up
                     and nothing to do

nothing yet
yet - how to put, tell,
        how to -
articulate
articualted
meticulate it

JUMP

       it's the only way you'll
       learn how to swim without sinking



7/14
Enough.
               is it enough
               have you had enough
               is it ever enough

I've had it up to

here is where it ends

or begins or begins to grate

on me it's all on

me except nothing is given is said.


have you had it
yet
had all
had your fill

when can I say I've had enough



 7/15
           breathe
deep                  breaths

take a moment and relax
     it's not that
         bad

it's not
           really
isn't it kind of what you wanted
well, sort of
                    except

                   not
I didn't sign up for soul-
crushing repression I didn't want
to be Peggy I didn't think I
would be ignored unless needed to
file or mail or ship

but is it really that bad

maybe if I was actually paid
or if I felt a bit accepted
or if I could work on anything
       creative
                    or meaningful

this isn't really what I signed
up for
           is it

unpaid receptionist replacing previous
MIA receptionist oh and sure
copywriting when our other intern
doesn't have it covered
                                      but he does

fine you got me
I was wary when you called
     and my intuition was not wrong
     was it?

fine you suckered me into
giving you 3 months of free
labor
        congratufuckinglations

I really had high hopes
     for this
I was really excited and
    ready to work
    to write
I wish this place didn't
    make me feel
    so terrible

but that's how I feel
       you got me

Frayed Bits

Okay, I have a number of things on my mind. 
1.  I applied to a job in Denver.  I have no idea what I'll do if I actually get it, but its as an entry-level copywriter at an ad agency. 

2.  I have sent my resume to several other places.  Including magazines, ad agencies, pr firms, and random large companies.  Nothing concrete yet. 

3.  I am nearly positive I won't be hired on here after my internship.  Why?  They haven't paid some bills since March (like for paper and coffee and shit).  How in the hell are they gonna be able to pay me? 

4.  Even if I was hired, being the new kid on a sinking ship means I'd be the first tossed back into the waves.

5.  I'm reading a new book: The Coral Thief.  I finished Ender's Game and quite enjoyed it.  (My review would have been similar to The Lost Gate - same author).  The new book is an odd combination of old science circa 1815 (evolution is called transformism, and many don't like it.. intriguing)  and sexy time in Paris.  Kind of hilarious.  But much better quality-wise than The Secret of Lost Things.  I was nervous going back to straight fiction after my much-enjoyed jaunt in fantasy, but this is shaping up ok.

6.  I watched a Lifetime movie about J.K. Rowlings life.  Terribly corny special effects, way too much emphasis on tie-ins from her life directly to the books, but embarrassingly enjoyable.  I want to be just like her.  Well, without the single mother on welfare worrying about feeding her child part.  I'm willing to skip to the richer than the Queen bit. 

7.  When asked, did you ever think your books would be this big, Rowling said to a reporter , no, never in a million years.  If (when?) I am ever asked that question, I'm curious as to what I could say while still being truthful.  "No, I didn't expect all of this to happen, but lordy was I hopin'!"  

8.  I realize that last one was wishful thinking and presumptuous. And maybe even arrogant. 

9.  I also realize that if I never got a book published I would wonder what went wrong in my life. 

10.  Because I needed to round out the list.  For your reading enjoyment: 

7 Things you need when our economy defaults

also known as 7 things my parents already have.  I'll give you a hint:

Speech

Tonight I am giving a speech at a rehab center in front of 50 recovering addict/alcoholics/anorexics, etc, and their family and friends. The title of the speech tonight is "Bottoming Out: How to Recover from the Lowest Point." I was invited not only because of my personal experience with addiction, but also with my volunteerism with the center. Bottoming out is a term used for people who have gotten to the lowest points of their addiction where they usually have no facilities to handle their addiction, or are suicidal. Here is a rough version of it:

"Thank you for inviting me tonight. I have been invited by (N/A) and (N/A) to talk to a room full of people who love each other and want to make the steps towards recovery and overcoming self-infliction to create a better tomorrow. I first became aware and involved in the center around the age of 17 when I fell in love with someone being treated here. He was 19 and scared to death of the recovery process. We first met when I was 15, when he was already down that path. He and I hung out with the token burn outs and jr. junkies that populate every high school. Not very close, I began dating a friend of his who would become addicted to PCP and methamphetamines.

"He and I became closer when I came to school with a bruise on my neck. I have never had a hickey, and it covered the back of my neck. His stepsister, who he was closer to than any of his family members, shared an art class with me and saw the bruise when my hair fell. She told him and he passed a note to me saying "Need to talk." We skipped class for the rest of the afternoon, went to the park, got high on spray paint and swung on the swings. I do not advocate for any of these behaviors, but it was probably the most fun I have ever had. He and I talked for hours. We fell in love.

"A month later my boyfriend broke up with me and the summer was dedicated to me and him. We got high everyday, and went to Trade Street to give money to prostitutes, one of which we knew. Why I am telling you this story is because we were both junior junkies on a similar path but somewhere we diverged. One night we both tried heroin. I woke up with a needle in my arm and he asked someone where the best dealer was.

"That was the beginning of the end. For the next five years it was a back and forth of recovery and hitting rock bottom. Fortunately, I did not get addicted to any of the substances we used. There were times we talked, when he left rehab and was on the up and up, we didn't talk anymore when he became addicted again and I told him to never to speak to e again. He killed himself that night with a lethal dose of heroin and a noose.

"To this day I wonder what would have happened. If my friend instead of taking himself out of the equation, solved it. If he could have realized how much me and his sister loved him. How much he made me laugh with his silly poems, how we would play on the playground at three am wondering if the sun was ever going to rise. When I cried or had nothing else to do, I could always call him. My mom nearly died from a colon infection a few years ago and he was the only person other than my father and brother to visit her at the hospital.

"He loved deeply and fully and I want to tell you that when you leave here, you may hit rock bottom for the first time or again. Remember that there is someone like me, or his stepsister that will love you no matter what. That when we reject you that does not mean we no longer love you. I love him till this day even though when he was, he said things that made no sense and hated when he didn't really mean to. We reject you, because hopefully the person we fell in love with will come back.

"I will never get him back. His ashes on my bookshelf are a daily testament to his passing and struggle. He died when he was 23. I rejected him because I wanted him to live till 80, so when you think all is lost, there are places like (N/A), who will love you as unconditionally as me. Some of you may say I do not have as much to lose as the person next to me or vice versa. All of you have something to lose, so when you hit rock bottom the only way you can go is up because there will be someone there to help you.

"My name is Gillian and thank you for letting me come and tell my story."

My Uncle Gordy and My Grandpa Keller

Our house is finally our own again for the first time in five days. My Uncle Gordy (my mom's sister) and his new wife Cathy were visiting. He lives in Arizona so I haven't seen him much. He's also more sarcastic than me, my dad, and my brother combined. Which, if you know any of us, it quite a feel.

In an unrelated note, I apologize for being so sarcastic all the time. Now that I know how it feels, I'll try to be less flippant.

Anyway, I think I'll write another entry about Gordy later, but what I really want to talk about his my Grandpa Keller (my mom's dad). I learned some interesting stuff about him this weekend. Not happy stuff, but interesting.

Here's what I all ready knew about my Grandpa Keller. I knew that he died when my mom was six and I knew that he was an alcoholic. My aunt Joan is kind of a super hostess and will follow you around the house and try to make something for you. I've learned that this may be because when my aunts and uncles grew up, their house was in disorder.

I don't think my Grandpa Keller was abusive or anything like that. He and my Grandma were just negligent because he was drinking all the time. There's a twenty year difference between my mom and her my Aunt Joan so my mom, thankfully, didn't have to grow up in that household. She grew up with my grandma, her mom, Wanda. Who was, by all accounts, a wonderful person. She died before I was born.

Anyway, I didn't know much else about my Grandpa Keller's death. I realized, when I was at college, that there was a big hole in the story. As I get older, I've learned that usually means that there's something my parents didn't tell me because I was too young. I was right.

My Grandpa Keller just up and left the house before he died. Apparently, he left them a note that said something like, "You don't need me anymore." My mom did this martyrdom was common for my grandpa. I wonder if he left a lot too.

Anyway, the upshot of all of this is that he was dead for about fourth months without my mom's family knowing. They got a letter from the hospital informing them of his death. Heart attack.

My mom said she thought he might have been on the streets when he died, but apparently my Uncle Bill cleaned out an apartment that Grandpa Keller had been living in. So he had an apartment at least.

What was even worse, is that I learned that my uncle Gordy and my grandpa had a fight before my grandpa left. My mom said it ended with my grandpa falling down. I don't know if that means they had a fist fight or what. But either way, it was the last time Gordy saw him.

I knew that my mom's family was dysfunctional, but I guess I didn't know the depths of it. As hard as something like this is to hear, it also makes my mom's family make more sense.

My uncle John was an alcoholic and abusive before he died. They think he might have been molested by a family friend in the chaos that was their household at the time. It's probably why Gordy moved to Arizona too, I wouldn't be surprised.

And I think that I finally understand why Aunt Joan and Uncle Bob got together. My Uncle Bob is a really good man. He's super friendly, he will talk to literally anyone about anything, and he's been a hard worker all his life. He runs his own real estate business, even though they don't have a lot of money.

But he's also extremely anal and kind of controlling. Especially when it comes to religious stuff. It's not like he's ever tried to get me to convert or anything like that, but I know it's turned some of my cousins off Christianity.

Joan married him when she was 18 and I think I understand why. He was really stable, really safe. After growing up in a household where you didn't always have enough to eat I'm sure that having a husband that's kind of controlling is a relief.

It just makes me realize how lucky I am to have grown up with my parents. I feel like I'm just a step away from that severe dysfunction. (On both sides, actually. My grandma on my dad's side was also an alcoholic which ALSO caused some severe problems in that family. Yay alcoholism.)

I'm sorry, this is a long none-to-uplifting entry and it's probably not that interesting to you guys. But it's good to learn family history even if it's incredibly depressing. Everything starts to come into focus when you learn things like this.

I wonder if that's part of why my mom became a therapist, just so she could make sense of everything in her family.

Lyric

To redeem myself from my not-so-creative posts, I have a poem.  It's a mash-up of two songs.  I've written other poems recently, but they mostly end up being rants about my current frustration in my professional endeavors.  Anyway, to get away from that I limited myself to only the words of others.  I took two songs and alternated lyrics.
So, sort of creative.

Can anybody find me

I screamed aloud

I get up I die a little

You left me in the dark

At the end I take

The stars, the moon

But I just can't get no relief

I knew that some how

I'm okay, I'm alright

I'm always in this twilight

I get down on my knees 

I could find my way back

I just gotta get out of  this prison cell

In the shadow of your heart
Everyday I try
I try to find the sound
And I start to pray
No dawn, no day
They say I'm going crazy
A fallen star.
Can anybody find me
Oh
Somebody to love?

Because I'm actually a 7-year-old boy

Hey lovelies,

I have to share my embarrassment and the awesomeness.  What's so awesome?  7 fantastic tools for starting fires with style.  Why embarrassing?  Because my sheer excitement to see magnesium flints, drip torches and a really effing powerful laser.

I'm 7!

Here's pics of my new favorite toys:  
 

 S3 Artic Laser with the power to burn a hole through paper, plastic, wood, and probably a wall.  Excellent.  All yours for the low low price of $300.

 
At about half the cost, make fire rain from this spout.  I'd really like to see a drip torch in action.  I'd really like to be the person putting it in action.  

 
Aurora magnesium fire starter.  Flick a knife over the surface and watch the sparks rain down.  Awesome.  It's only $20, so feasible.  As a birthday present for my brother.  And myself.  

 
Cool.  If you're a boy scout and it's 1950.    
(It's a bow and drill, in case you didn't know.  It also almost looks like it could shoot flaming arrows, which would be cooler.) 

  
But if those are all too flashy, a $4 box of strike-anywheres will always get the job done.  


Here's the Complete list.
But I covered the most fun ones.  

Jeez, I am such a pyro.  And now that I've disturbed your Monday morning and possibly made you wonder what I'm going to end up burning down, I've got some magnesium flints to purchase online.  

End of childhood

First (semi) Nonfiction essay:

Yesterday was the midnight premiere of the last Harry Potter film as you all know. Practically everyone I am friends with went to the midnight premiere/already have tickets to the film. You all know my personal opinion on Harry Potter and how little I know of this phenomenon. What you guys really don't know is my probable reasoning for not getting into the Harry Potter culture. Here is my story of the avoidance of Harry Potter.

Around the time Harry Potter was first becoming popular I had a terrible learning disability, which I still struggle with, making it hard enough to get through my homework, my vacations in New York usually consisted of me and my cousin running around the city and window shopping, and my own experience with the ridiculousity of fan culture. Harry Potter was way at the back of my brain at that point until I got to college. Yes, my father being the nerd he is read all the books and watched the movies sometimes even dragging my brother to book releases. It was annoying and already had to suffer through Star Wars conventions as Princess Leia. In college I started meeting people who were avid readers and obsessed with Harry Potter. Their obsession left me feeling odd and sort of guilty.

People would literally berate me for not reading Harry Potter to a point that I cried once in front of Becca and had to admit my learning disability and home life. After that point I was so turned off to the franchise that I locked it out. One time I was having a conversation with some friends and they were going on and on about HP. They asked why I wasn't talking and I said "I've never read Harry Potter and I don't care to." So many people were so cruel about it that at that point I just stopped caring and went along with my own interests. The crushing 'guilt' of being left out of a cultural milestone now eludes me.

So what did I replace Harry Potter with? Cinema, comic books/graphic novels, cooking, writing, but really do I need a replacement for Harry Potter? Simply because it was not in my life do I really need to search out things to replace a gap that does not really exist? No I do not because I did not initially reject HP because of its pervasive fanaticism, but because I could not even read its text, because completing simple reading assignments would take me hours. Extra reading was hard, so I was put into classes with other people with learning disabilities. Many of the books you read when you were younger like The Secret Garden, Diary of a Lost Girl and others I have only just read in the past few years. That gap never existed in the first place because I had other things to worry about.

Since I did not have the heart full of HP, the end of the film series affects me in no way. I am not crying, loathing the end of some great entity in my life. I fell asleep at midnight and woke up this morning to go to work. My world fortunately enough did not end. Something I did notice was the amount of Facebook statuses declaring the end of their childhoods. I was confused, because isn't the traditional end of childhood like 16-18? This made me begin to wonder when did my childhood end?

I think the descent began when I figured out my dolls did not come to life after I closed the door. I did something my parents called the 'door game.' This is when I opened and closed the door for no apparent reason, but this is the only instant where I remember my intent in frequently opening and closing the door. I would slowly close the door, then peel it open hoping to catch them talking, or beginning a great adventure. Did I mention this was around the time of Toy Story? After a small amount of time I figured out that all the factorials were there: toys, magic existed, and the door was closing. Awhile later it became clear they weren't coming alive. My inanimate objects were never going to hug me closer when I held them at night, because they had no autonomy.

After I figured that out I donated many of my stuff animals to homeless shelters and goodwill in order for other kids to believe in their powers. Puberty, life experiences and college really added on the maturity which pushed what little childhood I had left away. At the end of Toy Story 3 there is this scene where Andy is showing a little girl his dolls. He gallops with Woody and Bullseye, tells her about Buzz Lightyear's space travels, he had the same believability I had when I believed my dolls were having the same adventures. My childhood did not end at that point. It probably ended so fast I didn't even notice. At that moment I realized that somewhere along the way I was no longer a child. Believing in the probability of inanimate objects being autonomous was my childhood. I wanted to have conversations with my bunnies and tell them about my day.

Maybe that's the reason why I write, because I want to capture the personal feelings I have that I used to tell my stuffed animals. I do like the ideas of great adventures and for the impossible to happen. Honestly I will probably never read a Harry Potter even though it looks interesting. Seems like most people captured it in their childhood and identify it with that. If I read it now what will it define? It will be forced and hate being forced to read because it always ruin the experience for me.

So, I will never read Harry Potter and I'm alright with that.

The Adventures of Albus Severus Potter

So, I figured it was time to submit my fanfiction since you did all of yours. Ada has read part of this, so I apologize to her. When she read it, she pointed out that the two main characters were pretty gay (which was unintentional, btw), so I tried to de-gay them. They're still pretty gay. I also kind of took liberties with the epilogue. Like, I'm pretty sure in the real epilogue Harry points out Scorpius at Platform 9 and 3/4. In this version, Albus doesn't know who Scorpius. Also Lily is his older sister, not the younger. Since this is from the epilogue, I don't feel bad about violating canon at all. (Also it's fanfiction, so I don't feel bad anyway.)
Albus sniffed, wiping his running nose on his sleeve and he followed his brother through the Hogwarts Express.

“James, can I please ride in the same car as you?” he said.

James pushed him out of the way, maneuvering his bags into the a cabin that was already filling up. “Bugger off you little twerp.” James said.

“Please, just until we get to Hogwarts. I don’t know anyone here,” Albus said.

“Well, that’s the point isn’t it? You don’t know anyone. You haven’t been to school yet. Spread your little fledgling wings and fly away,” James flapped his arms in mockery. Rufus, a brown haired square jawed friend of James ho was walking next to them, laughed and flapped his arms.

“Ickle birdy Albus,” he snickered. “Albus Severus Potter. God, your parents are just asking for you to get beat up, aren’t they?” James and Rufus laughed as they filed into the compartment.

James pushed Albus back and slammed the door shut. Albus stood there for a few moments, listening to the cruel laughter coming from the inside, and then sighed and walked away.

Most of the compartments were full of older students and Albus couldn’t find the courage to sit by them. He walked for a while until he saw a car with only one student in it, a boy with pale blonde hair who was reading a book intently. Albus pushed the door open, his stomach churning. “Hullo,” he said. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“No, go ahead,” the boy shrugged, staring at Albus with sky blue eyes.

“Are you a first year too?”

“Yeah,” Albus said, dragging his suitcase inside. “I don’t have anyone else to sit with.”

“Oh,” the boy said. His face was small and pale, and there was almost a strained quality to it. “I'm Scorpius. What’s your name?”

“Albus,” the boy said, offering his hand out. Albus shook it vigorously and the two boys settled back in their seats. For a few moments not much conversation passed between them, but then Albus got up the courage to speak again.“What are you reading?”

“It’s a book on charms,” Scorpius said shrugging.

“Hey, I’ve seen that before. My brother James had that book,” he took a long look at the boy. “But that’s not possible. He was a second year when he read it.”

“My father, wants me to have a step up on the other kids.” Albus wasn’t sure if he was imaging it or not, but the corners of Scorpius’ mouth seemed to be twitching. “It’s stupid, I know, but I can’t argue with him,”

“Wow,” Albus suddenly felt a surge of guilt. It had taken his parents hours to find him a wand, and he hadn’t touched it since they brought it home. He hadn’t practiced any manner of magic at all. “Well, that’s cool. I haven’t really learned much magic yet. My parents started my sister out early, but that’s only because she’s bloody brilliant,”

“Who’s your sister?” Scorpius asked, setting the book to one side.

“Lily, she’s the Gryffindor prefect,” as soon as Albus had said the words he wished he hadn’t. When people found out his sister was it always lead back to his father.

“So I guess you want to be a Gryffindor too then, right?” Scorpius asked.

“Sure, I mean I guess so. My family is all Gryffindors, so I’m sure my parents want me to be one too.”

“My dad wants me to be a Slytherin,” Scorpius said. “But I don’t really care what I am. It’s all in Hogwarts, right? So why should the house matter?”

By now, Albus had started to unpack the bag his mother had given him for the trip. He offered one of his corn beef sandwiches to Scorpius, who politely waved it away.

“It’s all about reputation, right?” Albus said. Like how people in Ravenclaw are supposed to be really smart.”

“So? Does that mean that everyone in Ravenclaw is really smart? And what about Gryffindor? Is everyone there really brave?” he said, his eyebrows low. Albus couldn’t help but feel a surge of protective anger towards his family’s house. Scorpius picked up on this almost immediately. “I mean, not that people in Gryffindor aren’t brave. I’m sure your family is brave.” he said.

“They are,” Albus said, feeling defensive. But then he suddenly remembered what James always said about the Slytherins. Dark wizards. Pure blooded fear mongers. “But I guess you’ve got a point.”

“Sometimes I don’t want to be in Slytherin. You know what everyone thinks of it,” Scorpius said. “They all say its Voldemort’s house. The parseltongue house.”

“Well, people say bad things about Hufflepuff too,” Albus said thoughtfully. He looked up at Scorpius. “My brother and his friends always call it Hufflepouf. He says everyone there is gay. He’s such a stupid git.” Scorpius stared at Albus with puzzled features for a few seconds, and then burst into laughter. Albus joined him.

“That’s funny,” Scorpius said. “It’s too bad you’re going to be in Gryffindor. It’d be nice to know someone in my house all ready,”

“We could be friends even if we weren’t in the same house,” Albus shrugged. “If you wanted to be friends, that is.”

“Why not,” Scorpius shrugged. At that moment a woman knocked on the door.

“Anything from the cart?” she called out.

“Do you like chocolate frogs?” Scorpius asked.

“They’re my favorite,” Albus said smiling.

“Mine too,” Scorpius said. “We’ll have a whole box of chocolate frogs,” he said to the women, digging into his pocket. Albus reached for his money, but Scorpius stopped him. “My dad gave me a load of money for the train,” he said. “It’s on me.”

The two boys feasted on chocolate frogs and talked without ceasing until they reached Hogwarts. For the rest of the ride Scorpius’ book remained untouched at his side. They soon found out that they both had a fondness for collecting wizard cards and an intense dislike of the sport of Quidditch. Before either of them knew it, they were at the Hogwarts, changing into their school robes. They exited the train, following the sound of a husky voice calling “firs’ years, firs’ years.” Before they boarded the boats Albus cast a look at his brother, who was being led away by the horseless carriages.

“Is that your brother?” Scorpius asked, motioning to the carts. Albus noticed that Scorpius’ face had suddenly gone pale white. “Those carts, what’s pulling them?” he asked.

“Nothing’s pulling them,” Albus said. “Why, do you see something?” he asked. Scorpius stared for a few more seconds, and then shook his head.

“Let’s just get on the boat,” he reached into his pocket. “Hey, I’ve got a wizard card,” he held it up. “Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.” Albus suddenly felt his stomach flatten against his ribcage. Scorpius looked at the card carefully.

“I’ve got this one already. Do you want it?” he asked.

“Uh, sure,” Albus said, reaching out for it hastily. Before Albus could grab it Scorpius looked at his face.

“You look a little like him,” he said. “Isn’t that funny? Just like the great hero Harry Potter,” Scorpius smiled.

"Shut up,” Albus said, pulling his robes up. “Come on, we’ve got to get on the boats!”

XXX

The boat ride across the lake was as amazing as his father had always said. A sense of calm filled him as he stared at the inky black sky. He looked across the glassy surface to the thick and ominous looking woods on the other side. Albus vaguely remembered how his aunt Hermione was always talking about how the centaurs in the woods were so poorly treated. As he stared through the leaves he almost swore he saw a pair of glittering yellow eyes staring back at him. Albus shook his head and looked back at the calm water. I must be imaging things. Albus thought.

Soon, they were entering the Great Hall. Albus found all his doubts about Hogwarts quickly fading. The ceiling, the floating candles, and the huge tables full of students from every house perfectly matched Albus’ imagination. He gawked along with the rest of the first years, as they were ushered to a table. “Do they sort us first?” asked a dark haired boy with two almond-shaped brown eyes.

“I think so,” said a girl with a straight sandy brown braid and giant, horn-rimmed spectacles. “At least that’s what my mum says. But then again she also says that there are nargles in our attic.”

“What houses do you want to be in?” Albus asked.

“Hufflepuff or Gryffindor,” the boy shrugged. “My dad was in one, my mum in the either. They each bet three sickles that I’d be in their house.”

“I like Ravenclaw,” the girl said. “But that’s just because the raven is my favorite bird. I wanted to get a raven and bring it to school with me, but my dad wanted me to have an owl instead. He says it’s more practical. And my mom wants me to make friends with a thestral, but I don’t know what that is.”

“I don’t really care what house I’m in,” another boy, this one with huge dimples and bright blue eyes, butted into their conversation. “As long as it’s not Slytherin,”

“Yeah,” replied the other boy. “My parents would kill me if I got into Slytherin. You-Know-Who was in Slytherin!” Albus cast a nervous look at Scorpius and saw he was clenching his fists so hard his knuckles were turning white. Fortunately, the conversation died as Headmistress McGonagall called everyone to order. She gave a short, prim welcome speech and soon the sorting had begun. A raggedy, old hat was brought out and sat upon the chair. A slit along the seam opened up like a mouth and it began to sing. The song was long and odd, and as it ended Albus felt a knot of nervousness form in his. The sorting was starting.

“Longbottom, Jacob!” the hat shrieked. A nervous looking boy stumbled up to the stool. The hat was placed on his head and, after a few tense seconds, shouted “GRYFFINDOR!” Cries of jubilation went up from the Gryffindor table as the boy rushed to join them. After a few minutes the dark haired boy with brown eyes (“Cheng, Xing!”) was put in Ravenclaw. At first Albus sat on pins and needles. However, the sorting was a tediously long process and somewhere around “Freidrickson, Donna." It continued until the hat opened its seam and shouted out.

“Malfoy, Scorpius!” A low hiss went up from the crowd. Albus turned to Scorpius in shock.

“You’re a Malfoy?” he said. Scorpius didn’t reply, but went white with anger. He rose slowly. The eyes of every student in the hall were upon him as he strode to the stool. The blue eyed boy with dimples turned to Albus and began whispering to him.

“You know what they say about the Malfoy family, don’t you? They were all Death Eaters,” the boy said. “They brought You-Know-Who back to power! Lucius Malfoy even let You-Know-Who stay in their house!” The boy laughed. “He’ll be in Slytherin for sure.”

Albus stared as Scorpius took his seat. There was a sudden, hushed silence as the hat touched his head. The deliberation was long, longer than any other student. Scorpius gripped his seat and grimaced.

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat shrieked finally. The crowd exploded into cruel laughter and murmuring.

“What did I tell you?” the blue eyed boy laughed. “Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin!” The headmistress cried out angrily for silence, and Scorpius took his seat red-faced as he was clapped on the back by other Slytherins. Oh well. He’s probably a tosser anyway. Albus thought.

After this he lost interest in the ceremony again. He managed to see that the dimpled boy (“Normans, Scott!”) was sorted into Gryffindor, but didn’t pay attention again until his own name was called.

“Potter, Albus!” the hat called. Much to Albus’ surprise and annoyance, this elicited an even bigger reaction than Scorpius had. The kids around him stared as they saw him stand. Everyone around him whispered as he took the steps toward the stool, his heart feeling as though it was pounding away in his ears. They placed the hat on his head and a voice entered his mind.

“Little Albus Potter. The last of the children of Harry and Ginny. My, my, this is interesting. So very different from your brother and sister. And from your father for that matter,”

“I should be in Gryffindor,” Albus thought sighing. “All of my family has been in Gryffindor. All of my aunts and uncles and even my cousins.”

“Should be in Gryffindor? Hmmm, but where do you want to be?” the voice laughed darkly.

“Honestly, I don’t care where I go as long as I make friends. I’ve never had many friends.”

“Well, friends I’m sure you will make. You certainly have a lot of kindness in you. You’d make a good Hufflepuff, that’s for sure. But it’s hard to fight destiny, and I know what house you’re supposed to be in.” Albus sighed. He always knew it would be Gryffindor anyway. There wasn’t any doubt.

“I’m ready,” he thought. The hat opened the seam of its mouth very wide.

“SLYTHERIN!” he cried. And the hall went dead quiet.

Bad Dreams

Will has been showing up in my dreams, and I hate it because I always wake up so mad at him for things he didn't do. In one dream, I ran across him in Minneapolis and he said that he'd never read my letter because he didn't feel like it was important for him. (I think all of you know this, but I a wrote him a letter like a month after we broke that was basically explaining that I was really unhappy with things in our relationship.) He said there was no incentive for him to read the letter since we weren't together anymore and I was so mad at him.

Then, last night I dreamed that he showed up at Perkins with a new girlfriend. She was this mousey, unremarkable thing with glasses and black hair who didn't talk a whole lot. He met her because she worked at some fast food place he frequented. (It's kind of funny that in my nightmare Will pretty much gets together with a boring Milio's girl.) And he said he liked her better. Then he said something that really disturbed me. He said that I love people too much and that it suffocates them.

THEN I had a terrible non-Will related dream which included me getting captured and tortured by this terrorist who was sending an ultimatum via TV to the city. He left me alone in this abandoned parking garage structure and Emily and Paul showed up and didn't believe I'd been tortured. They only changed their mind when I pulled out my arm and realized he sewed this tracking device under my skin in the crook of my elbow. I was terrible and when I woke up I kept checking my arm to see if it was there.

Clearly, SOMETHING about my sleep schedule needs to change. I don't know why I keep having all these Will dreams. Especially since they really started up since I felt like I've made my peace with that relationship. Damnit brain, knock it off!

Under the Sea -- On Stage

I mentioned a while ago I was going to see this and last night, I did.  I went to the Muny (outdoor theater in Forest Park) with my mom, aunts, and cousins to see The Little Mermaid.

Oh man.  There were a lot of good things about it.  And then there were bad things.  I'll get to those first, because I found them HIlarious.

Adaptability:  Okay.  It's an animated movie about a mermaid set partially underwater.  How did we expect this to turn out?  It's not like Beauty and the Beast where the storyline, though fantastic, is feasible on a stage.  It had some of the problems that I expect may have been shared by The Lion King, these are people acting not animals talking.  I know it's impossible to really translate it to a stage production, but the translation lost some of the magic for me.  Odd note:  During the performance, I thought it could benefit from an underwater theater similar to that in Misty's gym in the Pokemon tv show.  Just saying. 

Roller skates:  Unfortunately, there were none.  I was kinda looking forward to that, so slight disappointment.  So the actors had to do an annoying amount of wiggling to simulate swimming.  Ehh.  On this subject, while 'underwater' Ariel undulated her arms SO MUCH to also simulate swimming.  I don't know why, but it really got on my nerves.

Costumes:  very colorful and sparkly leotards for many of the 'fish'.  I don't think I need to elaborate further.

Part of Your World:  I teared up during this song.  You all should know why.
However, in the short reprise, (I don't know where, I don't know how, but I know something is starting right now...)  Ariel's voice was not spectacular.  The notes hit wrong in her passagio (the point of your voice when you switch from chest to head voice), which was unfortunate and distracting for one of my favorite musical moments.  Otherwise though, her voice was great and sounded eerily similar to her voice in the movie.

Prince Eric:  I don't know what it is for me and guys with this name, but he was fine.  And he had a great voice.  And he had more songs than in the movie.  And he was really tall.  And I think I've figured out I'm going to marry SOMEONE named Eric....

Ursula:  Wonderful as ever with a new twist: she was played by a drag queen.  HA!  It was great.  The ending changed though, because they couldn't gorge her on the end of a ship when she swells to the size of the sea once she get the trident.  But hey, you can't have everything.  Ariel dropped her magical shell which apparently linked to Ursula's life, killing her. 

Overall:  Enjoyable, but the situations and simulations of being under water kinda made me laugh.  It's sort of ridiculous as a musical, but I do love the music.  I wanna go watch the movie now.

Yarth Chapter 1

"Don't you mean Earth Doctor?" Rose cooed as she peeled her apple as she sat on the table. The Doctor paced the room, hand propped on his chin. He stopped to look at the Tardis. Rose leaned the apple towards her mouth, only for it to be snatched away by the doctor. He took a crunchy bite out of it.

"Curious you ask that, because it's called Earth, but it's actually Yarth." The Doctor remarked. "It's like an alternate reality to your modern Earth, where the fictional exist."

"What do you mean by fictional?"

"Vampires. Werewolves. Wizards. Great romance, and great tragedy."

"What's their problem? The smurfs rebelling?" Rose snickered as she stole back the apple that the Doctor was holding behind his back.

"No, but that probably won't happen for awhile. This one came from a high wizard named Dumbledore." Rose spit out the apple she just bit.

"Like Harry Potter Dumbledore?"

"He didn't name any chap named Harry, but going on, they need are help. Apparently there is a war there that they need our help in resolving. So off to the Tardis!"

"This will be interesting…"



Encroaching a darkness he had never fathomed, he journeyed on towards the great castle Hogwarts. He swallowed his tongue and ran to his goal. To his sides were others running, but he could not see them. That was the point. They had been stalking him for hours, waiting until he came out of hiding to pounce.

The first wolf launched themself out of the bushes, Ron attempted to use a spell on the wolf. They bit at his wrist before the spell could be cast. Ron made a swift kick to the wolf's rib in order for them to let go. He got out of the forest, but was confronted by a swarm of wolves just like the one who bit him. One of the wolves transformed in front of Ron into a tall Native American boy.

"You are in the wrong territory. Wizard." Jacob enunciated as he stood an inch from Ron's face.

"I went to the village. Just for a bit, I got permission from Sirius." Ron trembled.

"Is this the truth?" Jacob sniffed Ron and licked his face. He smacked his lips. "You're not lying. Let him through."

The wolves made a clear path for Ron to walk through. They still growled at him as he turned the knob of the front door. Ron slammed the door behind him. He was gathering his breath as he put down the package he was carrying

"You wouldn’t happen to have any trousers?" Harry said. Ron slowly turned around to see a mud crusted and nude Harry Potter .

"Harry?" Ron ran up to his friend to hug him. "Ugh, you're all sticky."

"That's what happens when you’re a wolf all day."

" I didn't even notice you were in that pack."

"Well all do look alike unfortunately. So what's been going on here? Oh and the trousers of course."

"Right away." Ron went to the broom closet to pull out a spare pair of pants. He threw it to Harry. "Always keep a spare just in case you come over. Dumbledore's been missing lately."

"Missing?"

"Yeah, like scarce. Never see him at meals, keeps to himself. Think he cannot handle situation himself. Driving him a bit bonkers y'know?"

The clock rang midnight.

"I got to go. The brood will be mad if I take too long." Harry began to walk to the door.

"Harry?" Harry turned around, hand on the door. "Could you leave the trousers? Just in case you come back?"

Harry smiled and threw back the trousers to Ron before he left.



Bella twiddled her fingers as she stared to the ceiling or anywhere else she could. Edward contorted, twisted and flexed his pelvis as he made love to Bella. When she caught Edward's eye, she lifted her eyebrows as he gave a satisfied grin. The door opened behind them.

"What the hell?" Draco growled as he came face to face with the 'sex' scene. Edward looked behind him to see Draco lifelessly standing at the door.

"Do you mind? I am making love to my wife." Edward grunted.

"Do you need me for anything because I'm pretty available now." Bella said from an unclear location.

"What?" Edward said.

"I couldn't pretend anymore. Just not into it anymore. Please just finish." Edward gave one last thrust before Bella threw him off of her to the floor. Bella retied her robe that she had on the whole time. "What's your business Draco?"

"Snape has returned with news from Hogwarts. Someone powerful is coming to the wizard's aides. He says from another universe." Draco said as he witnessed the marital problems in front of him. Edward put on his pants as Bella turned on the lights to read her book.

"Improbable, but I'll go meet with him anyway." Edward put on his shirt. "You and I will talk later about tonight."

Edward closed the door behind him as Bella gave him a mock wave. She waited a few seconds before tossing her book and heading towards the window. She looked down into the low balcony to catch the eyes of a handsome wolf.

"Sorry that took so long. He usually finishes earlier."

"I could wait forever for you Bella." Jacob said before he kissed Bella.