1 + 1 = 1

So what am i going to write about tonight? Well i suppose i could write about how i took that whole not writing till August thing and just forgot about it. Or i could forget about it, and that is what i am going to do.

Instead tonight i want to write about my relationship with God, because i find it to be something amusing. I think that my view while unique does have something to offer.

I have a perspective on God that, to be honest, i share with just one other person. Well, that's one way to put it. I mean that he understands my view even if he does not agree with it.

My relationship with God... Well my actual beliefs line up along with the supporting the idea that God is not this big ancient all powerful parental unit that planned everything that has or will happen so completely that the few rules he planned out would always be right.

Something in that just strikes me as wrong. Something in that strikes me as wrong that the being which created all of reality out of nothing would really care who you have sex with and when, or that you use a condom. Is it just me or do these things strike you as kinda extremely trivial?

I can't help but think of a line from the TV show Life right now, which is "one plus one equals one". I know, this notion sounds kinda weird, kinda stupid, and more than a little cheesy. This line is an expression that the separation between all people is nothing more than an illusion. This lines up with another line in the show "Even as we exhale it is inhaled by others. Even as i exhale it is inhaled by my friend. Even as i exhale it is inhaled by my enemy. In this way i am no different from my friend, in this way i am no different from my enemy."

See even though we cannot see the air it is there. (if you want more cheesy lines about air being there go watch Bulletproof Monk)

Even though we don't realize it, the very things that make us up are constantly changing and shifting, constantly dropping away to be replaced by new atoms and molecules. Even though physically we all are constantly changing and yet we remain the same.

So i guess we work down to my idea of what God is, is that combination of all beings. That we all are God, and there is a balance that forms, there is a pattern in the chaos. Actually there are patterns, and you can choose which to see.

So yes, you will see me point up at the ceiling or sky and say "you know you have a fucking twisted sense of humor" but really that is just me joking around. If only the universe was that simple.

Happy One Hundred!

Happy One Hundred Everybody!!! Yes, that's right, at long last i have made it to 100 posts and here it is. Wow... Can't believe i made it this far. For those of you who have read this since i started thanks for sticking around. For those of you just starting i hope you find something you like.

To be honest i wasn't really thinking about the fact that i had finally reached this number, i had planned an idea for this post to be about which actually linked to what started me originally writing a blog. See what really started me writing a long time ago was a hunt for quotes... Well that's the best way i can think of to start it.

See what got me writing was the urge to be a writer and write a book. Two blogs i have read have become books as well, and this is what urged me to start my own. But really i can backtrack from that. I was sitting in the library googleing for quotes and i came across some really cool ones that were said by "The Waiter" and i had no clue who this guy was so i googled him.

That brought me to a blog that i continue to read this day, that is one of my favorite authors of all time, Steve Dublanica, who writes the blog Waiter Rant. This is one of the few blogs where i have backtracked to the beginning and read it from the first to the last.

And that blog links into what i wanted to write about here, which is all about the people who were giving off the bad vibes when i went to that fancy restaurant recently. See the main thing that really struck me was well, i could see the two women who were there with two men. The view i had of them was i could see the one who spoke loud enough for me to hear and i couldn't believe what i could hear her say.

See let me explain why it is, the restaurant is an expensive place meaning that it isn't really the place anyone who doesn't have money to spare goes to (that's one of the reasons i wont be back). Meanwhile this woman was also wearing nice clothes unlike me (cheap t-shirt and shorts, woot for warm weather). In additon to this she was VERY tanned and had quite a few tatoos that i think have been there for QUITE a while.

Anywho, the what was it that she said was that she was talking about the negativity of people using computers or TVs because of the fact that the screens messed with them meanwhile they were doing yoga to ground themselves.

Now let me explain my problem with this, why this bugged me enough to convince me to never go back to the restaurant there, or at least never in a small group (i wouldn't mind being the group which got overheard).

See i support the notions that yoga and meditation and prayer and all the different ways that people seek their spirituality can help to ground themselves. I get that there are different things that work for different people. Meditation is what works for me, prayer and confession don't really work for me. Yoga gets me in touch with with myself and makes me more aware of my body, of my physical self. It is something that i forget about from time to time so it is nice to have a way to reconnect.

Meanwhile i also use my computer to connect to myself by writing out blog posts like this one, i use it to write things like MWBN and other stories. I am going to use it to write an autobiography for one of my classes. It is just a secondary way for me to connect to myself, a way to connect to my mind similar to yoga or running or swimming or jumping rope connects me to my body.

What bugged me was hearing this woman complain about the way that people use computers, being so one sided on the issue. She was so focused on the negative, so completely on one side that she didn't seem open to the ways that computers can really be a wonderful thing. Meanwhile she is someone who has gone through so many different things that could have affected her negatively, she is so tanned that clearly she isn't quite focused on what is good for her body.

Its that one sidedness that i dislike. Its that closed off to the possible good that can occur. That and the hypercritical personality of the woman. There isn't anything wrong with her choice to tan as much as she wants until cancer grows all over her, but she shouldn't criticize someone else for using a computer and that being a part of their life.

Why I Don't Eat Fancy Food

Hi out there, it seems to be a new day that nothing really is going to get done, so while that is happening i figured i would send out a new blog post for y'all.

So one of the things i decided to do for the course of this summer was to try most, if not all, of the restaurants in the downtown of this city. Why would i want to do something like that? Especially considering that i am a cheap student who works only every couple weekends?

Well because over the last year there were a few recommendations of where to eat and those places were the main areas that we all ate at. And the food was good there, really good. But when you decide to take a break from cafeteria food and actually eat something which wasn't as mass produced... well it is nice to get a change, but a change should really be something new.

And that would be why i decided to try all these different places and different foods. I decided to try and find the places that i like going to, the food i like to eat, the restaurants that are good to just sit and relax in.

And so i have been eating at various new places throughout the town, and i have found that for the most part they are great, that their food is in general well made, and that for the most part the recipes exist for a reason. The last place that i tried was a very fancy restaurant. To be honest i am not used to eating at places like it.

I am used to eating at places which are relatively nice, but not places where the cheapest meal is around 16$. The food was great, it was filling. The enviorment was relaxing and comfortable. But i don't think i will be going back, at least not often.

Why? Well other than the fact that the food was too expensive for my taste was that the fact that the place just carried with it a feeling that i didn't belong. Did i feel uncomfortable there? Not really but yes. I know that doesn't make sense, but to me it does.

Could i sit in such a place, eating such fancy food and sipping water (cause everything else was too expensive) from my crystal glass? Sure i could, and i did. Did i feel uncomfortable sitting in a place where there was a blatant negativity following from the only other occupied table there? Yes, i did.

Now what do i mean by that? Well it goes along with something i read recently in another blog post by someone else. The notion that money makes people unhappy is something that frankly i don't find it too surprising.

The people at the other table there were so very... upsetting, they just complained and complained (and yes i realize that is what i am doing now) and i would rather eat in less fancy places with simpler food and be around groups of people who sit there and tell stories to make each other's experience more comfortable.

That is why i don't fit in when i go to fancy places. Because i don't like what they seem to stand for and support. After all, life is too complicated to eat complicated food.

Me?

Ok, so this is an uber quick post that i am sending out because i want to know your thoughts. What does sitting in a Starbucks, writing a blog post and drinking a green tea make me?

Explaining My Absence

Hello out there all you looney people who actually bother to read this (and yes, i do appreciate it), long time no chat! Why is this you may ask? Where have i been? Why have i not been writing to you?

Did i suffer some kind of terrible accident, like electricuting myself when i was attempting to charge a remote controlled car? No, because sadly i don't have a remote controlled car at my house... Did i get hurt in some other way that is a little less amusing? No, i remain unhurt (except for my head, but blame stats class for that!), instead the reason i haven't been writing these long one sided conversations to all of you is far less interesting, far less joyful, frankly it is far less fun.

I have been (wait for it! Can i get a drum roll please?) doing my homework (GASP!) and focusing on that rather than on the blog that i write for fun and self fulfillment (DOUBLE GASP!!).

Yes, i know, me taking a responsible view of my work and focusing on what matters right now rather than what i simply want to do. Shocking, its almost like i am a mature student who realizes that sometimes class really is important!

So yes, for the past while i have been working on an essay followed by a lab report and as such i have been working on doing a good job on both (or at least not a really crappy job done the day before...) so that i will get a semi decent mark.

Why are you writing a post now? you might be tempted to ask, well simply i have decided to take one night off before going back and working on my autobiography and studying for the exams i have next week. Yes, i am going to write an autobiography. No, it is not by choice, it is for a class. No, i probably will not end up posting it here.

But anywho, because of this time off from blogging i felt the urge to write it and explain it. I also might pound out several posts tonight to even things out. Looking forward to writing to all of you again on my semi-regular basis come August! TTYL

Hidden Happy Feet Message

So its late, and now i am going to write a blog post. Why? Because i feel like it, and i have an idea to write about. The idea i want to talk about comes from the movie Happy Feet, which i saw for the first time recently (and i recommend it btw, i mean dancing penguins? AWESOME!).

The idea that Happy Feet inspired in me to write about something which i read about back in high school. I cannot for the life of me remember what this book was called, all i know is that while it was written in a very very frighteningly popular style which is so incredibly common with modern thrillers, the plot was so unique that 5 years later it still stands out in my mind. Admittedly if you remind me of the basis of nearly any book i have read i can give you a somewhat accurate synopsis but this one i legitimately remember.

(BTW: it is no longer late, it is in fact several days later, in the next week, and i am going to hopefully finish this post tonight...)

The main point of this book was one of a fault in being someone who believes in something fanatically to the point where they then disregard new information in the face of the past belief. Its something i feel passionately about (in case you didn't get that when i said that i started this post several days ago and didn't toss in the 20 or so minutes to quickly type it out, which is probably how long this will take... but now i am giving it my attention!).

Anywho, being so fixated on past knowledge that you refuse to accept new information. Bad thing, very very bad thing. Is it something i can say that i don't do? Something i manage to avoid each and every single time it comes up? No, i can't say that. I can't say that i don't have beliefs that would defy new discoveries. My belief that love exists? That there are things we can't describe. That the entire universe is not quantifiable. These beliefs are the ones i don't think can be shaken, by anyone.

Then there come the beliefs that form up what i guess would be called "my religion", the belief that everything is one, that life has no grand larger meaning, that if there is a "God" it doesn't give a damn if you do or don't have sex. Things like that form up beliefs that i doubt would be changed by anyone saying something to me.

So what was this book about? This book that deals with people not accepting new knowledge? To say i can remember the entire plot in enough detail to explain it would be a lie. But the bare bones? Those i can give you.

The storyline follows a man and a woman (to provide them with romance of course) as they start investigating a... well the terms that come to mind are prophet or cult. This cult surrounded a young woman in Europe during the middle ages. The evidence comes out over and over again that this young woman was born to a virgin, preformed miracles, and there was evidence that she preformed many of the same miracles that Jesus was thought to preform.

Basically what it comes down to is that she was the second coming of God, first as a man in Jesus, then as a woman, showing that they are two parts of the same thing. The symmetry with the author's writing was so cool. But what happened? Due to the time when this woman who was the second coming was alive she was persecuted and killed on a cross.

Because of the actions of the past the church also refused to admit its mistake in the modern times which lead to the conflict in the book. It is the similar idea which i then saw expressed in Happy Feet.

The man character is so different from the past, different from the "religion" of the penguins which is a song. He begins dancing, expressing himself in a new way which is suddenly so unacceptable to the older penguins. In their refusal to accept him, accept the knowledge that he brings they shut themselves off to it and to possible solutions to the problems filling their world.

So i guess that is kinda my problems with big giant organizations, the reason i like to stick with the smaller places. There is the same information, but there you lack the clout to get away with ignoring it. Keep your eyes open, see what is actually there, and go watch Happy Feet.

Rule 4: Talk to Those who Matter About What Matters

So in case you can't tell i am still trying to work through the massive list of ideas that i sent myself, and keep sending myself. I have to admit i love always having an idea to work with but i kinda miss the whole complete free fall blog. But oh well, i guess i will have to find a way to work around that. I mean i don't really want to write about a pre-picked topic but i also kind of really want to.

But anywho, onto today's topic to write about, relationships and "the talk". Why did this occur to me to think about? Could be that i have strong opinions on it? Could it be that a bunch of thoughts were bouncing around in my head about it a while ago and it made me want to write about it?

Well i have to say that while those things seem to be true, the most likely reason that i had the thought to write about relationships and "the talk" is because of the fact that i have been watching the show Scrubs like the crazy addict i am.

Yes, i know, it sometimes makes it seem like a soap opera and sometimes seems like a comedy but for me it reflects a lot more of what life is really like. Well perhaps not life... but it goes along with a lot of my views.

Anywho the main idea here is about relationships. Something i have been thinking about is relationships. I have been a person that people talk to about their relationships for a long time and want to know the dirty little secret i have been taught from all of them? That the more people tend to worry about how their relationships are going to work or not the more that they tend to lie or hide who they are.

See that is a massive problem, i mean if you truly want to be with a person, truly have a lasting relationship with them then you need to be honest with yourself and with them.

The other part i know is going to sound odd for me advocating but oh well, what i am talking about here is selfishness & compromise. Namely you need to be selfish a bit in your relationship, you need to realize the things that you can't change, the things you need, and what it is that is too much for you. You need to decide what it is that you wont give up about yourself for someone else.

The compromise comes in from the same thought process, you need to realize what things are not more important to you than your relationship. These are the parts of yourself that you don't consider more important than getting it to work. Its these things that when it comes down to it you need to be willing to let go rather than continue to fight over.

When it comes down to it, these things are what "the talk" is all about. They are about you talking (shocker, i know) to the other person about what you mean to them, about being honest about what they mean to you, and about your life in general. It pisses me off that there is this whole image of an honest relationship being something so scary.

There is a line in season 4 of Scrubs (yes, i know, you want the connection to Scrubs to be over with already!) in which one of the older characters says to two of the younger characters "Anything in life worth having doesn't come easy, you have to work for it" or something to that affect. The right relationship with the right person, does that sound like something worth having?

And if telling the truth, learning about what really matters, and letting a few fights go is the hardest work you have to do, is it really that bad? Speaking as a writer, and as someone who tries to be honest all the time, let me tell you, lies are more work than the truth.

Indigenous 1000 Essay

Now i want all of you to keep in mind that this essay has not been edited yet, and with my f button acting weird it might have a few mistakes, but i promise they will be fixed before i hand it it.

            The main issue I find facing indigenous people in Canada currently is the path which languages are taking. Namely, while some languages continue to be used, they are marginalized, and others simply die out to be replaced by English and with that there is also a loss of culture, of lifestyle, and of wisdom which has a lot to be offered to Canada, as well as Western society as a whole. Indigenous languages offer words and ideas which cannot be expressed in English. As well, these ideas and stories offer new ways into viewing the modern world. The modern age is attempting to leave the prejudices of the past behind, to find better, more efficient ways of doing things.

            In order to understand something as it is now, it must be understood as it was. The reason for this is that part of what makes something the way it is, is that it took a unique path to get to where it is now. That seems like a convoluted way to get that point across but it is a key point. In order to understand the problems that the English language is creating now it is necessary to have an understanding of how it gained such a position of influence. England itself has several key features which when combined gave it an edge in ages past when it came to influencing the rest of the world.

            The main way to transport goods and people throughout the world before the invention of the airplane was to load them onto a boat and then ship them around the world. The reason that Italy, and the Roman empire enjoyed such a grand place in the hallowed halls of history is because so much of what has been deemed as the important history is the history of Europe. Italy was placed to be able to ship its troops around far more efficiently than other groups of people in the area. When it became time for countries to voyage away from continental Europe England had an advantage in that it was an island and therefore already had a navy which they could put to use in exploration and colonization. This combined with its past further back which conspired to give England technological advances which would greatly aid in the process of conquest gave this tiny island the means to have a large hand in the shaping of the world.

            Despite the past works of England at large in the world the current issues with the English language arise mainly from the United States of America. Due to the USA's prominent rise to power and influence it has dictated that even through England's fall from control of the world the English language would continue to be used in both business and military operations around the world. Because the USA is the largest creator of media and exporter of said media it creates a massive influence on the rest of the world, particularly the youth of the world which are the people who will decide which cultures live or die. The USA also has such a powerful economy that it can drag other countries of the world into a depression or recession. The flip side of this of course being that in order to make large sums of money, or in many cases, even adequate sums of money, and a person must speak the language that their pay is going to be negotiated in.

            Through this kind of greed, this kind of necessity that money drives the need to learn the English language, often at the expense of other languages and cultures. The culture of the United States is becoming in its own way so complex and changes so quickly that it draws the mind into it; once something has been figured out it seems to change completely. Some sociologists blame this on corporate powers seeking to advertise to teenagers and other young people (Dretzin). In the documentary the Merchants of Cool the idea is discussed that the culture youths in western society attempt to create for themselves is generally taken over by corporate greed and then commercialized, forcing them to find something else to embrace (Dretzin). It is in this manner that western culture becomes a sort of kaleidoscope for the young people, ever shifting and catching attention so that more traditional values or ideas, especially if they don't mesh well with this continuous shifting of values and ideals, fall by the wayside.

            Furthermore in examining the past of the English language it needs to be noted the changing values which alter the way in which it is perceived now versus then. Namely in the past there was a prevalent idea that one culture, one race, or one religion was intrinsically better than all the rest. This notion, that the beliefs of one society trumped another lead to the suppression and persecution of peoples far and wide. In British held north America it resulted in the creation of the residential schools as well as a number of horrible treaties and deals in which the government from England took advantage of indigenous populations and robbed them of their homes and lively hoods.

            Residential schools were an attempt to drive the culture out of indigenous people by attacking it in the children of the various societies. It shows yet again the importance of the young, that they are malleable and are quite literally the future. If they all lack the knowledge of a culture, so that not a single young person has the complete vocabulary of a language or the knowledge of a legend or creation story then when the last old person who knows it dies, so does the story or the language.

            It is this death that England tried to create; it is this kind of murder which residential schools aspired to. Not to murder a person, but to murder a people. At the same time removing the land and lively hood from the people created a way for them to distance indigenous people from their past. To say that it was an intentional action is most likely providing the British Empire with too much credit and creativity, but it did prove to be quite effective. To remove such volumes from a culture, to make it so that some creatures and some places only exist now in stories is to scar the world forever in this way. It makes it easier to lose touch with the past when the past becomes nothing more than stories told in a slow fashion which takes hours when the world already demands so much attention for people to keep up.

            But what of the English language itself? How does it play into all of this, what makes it so unique other than its past? In its current state English forms the majority of the media, even in Canada which is a bilingual country. Rather than television stations being split between the two languages of English and French the majority of them outside of Quebec are singularly English. It is the language taught at most elementary schools and high schools. To learn another language is not so much a requirement but a choice that children or teenagers have to make if their parents will not make it for them.

            As well English grows into each area it is spoken, like most languages it picks up local idioms and turns of phrase. The difference being that English is growing so fast that it is predicted to become the first modern language to gain over 1,000,000 words. It also has spawned a new form of itself, with texting and internet chat languages creating short forms and new shapes for words as well as emoticons for expressing emotion through text. In this growing language to a degree young people can gain a voice by using a new word until it gains momentum and joins the mainstream, not unlike a trend gaining corporate marketing and becoming a fad.

            The devices which young people use to communicate through, computers and cell phones are generally designed by English speaking people for English speaking clientele. This means that they carry the English alphabet and furthermore as the majority of websites and songs which are offered are in English it makes more sense to speak it. The next question is that if this is a far more common language and young people are in general spending more time with people that they are not related to do they not require a common language? Similar to Latin in medieval Europe where it was the language of the university so that all people could understand each other in an academic environment English is somewhat the language of the young across north America, so that while there might be minor misunderstandings due to local preferences, such as pop versus soda, in general people tend to be able to communicate with each other because most of the words share a common meaning.

            A problem currently growing in the English language though is the need to be able to label. Namely if it exists there seems to be some kind of a need for a word for it. An example would be two people who have a long distance friendship, if they don't ever really see each other but instead exchange text messages, emails, and speak on the phone, someone may decide to label their friendship as a convo-ship, combing conversation and friendship. In this seeking and labelling of new situations, of designing a word for every single thing so that nothing remains unlabeled English hurts itself. Namely as the English language tries to be able to cover every situation it encounters a problem that is very prevalent in western society, that sometimes a person, a politician, a teacher, a parent, someone in authority doesn't actually hold all the answers. English tries to explain every single situation and occurrence that happens without realizing that in having to apply the English language to it offers a limit on what can be known, what can be said, and what can be described. Because English comes with its own perspective from its past it has limitations in the now. That is not to say that it will not someday gain the perspective and understanding needed to describe things which indigenous languages and stories already understand, already can offer wisdom on. It is this fact, that there is useful knowledge which seems to be disregarded to a large extent that is the shift which needs to occur in the westernized mindset.

            With this current situation it may seem that all is lost. That in this current situation it may be possible to hold onto the young generation for a while but eventually the entirety of them will slip away and be replaced by generations after generations of youths who embrace the going trends and try to remain one step ahead of "the man". It seems to be a depressing state of affairs to be sure, but one thing to keep in mind is the evolution of the way that people react and grow as well as how easy it is to share knowledge now. The growing short attention span comes from the current technology which is becoming more and more widespread. This is actually a blessing in disguise.

            With kids looking for stimulation and ideas to explore there are so many pieces of indigenous knowledge which can be offered. Books and stories that can be read to young children before bed, they can incorporate themes that differ from the western fairy tales where the beautiful princess is saved by the handsome prince. They can include new words to stretch their vocabulary. As well, with parents reading along with their children the words would eventually, if not right away, work their way into the parent's vocabulary which in turn would allow the words to be used in a wider society as a whole.

            Books are not the only medium available to help though, there is also music if one of the many musicians who are activists could be contacted. The number of different themes and different perspectives could offer so much to song writing as well as to conventional authors. It would allow for a larger growth of art in general to grow which in turn would present the world with new forms of knowledge. In western society it is the task of artists and academics to press the world to change, to recognize what is there in front of their eyes. The values and changes that can be made by attempting to look at the world in another manner should appeal to the psychologist, the sociologist and the anthropologist. As well, examining traditional medicines should be something which doctors attempt to do, because their duty is to their patents first. If something works, the western view is to find out why, not to say that something is not worth it because of the source. With so much to offer much of the world should be standing up and asking a lot more questions.

            As well the internet offers a lot for the growth of spreading and saving knowledge. There are people around the world who would be more than willing to aid in the recording and saving of knowledge as well as setting up ways for people to learn it. The internet allows the spread of knowledge to travel much faster than ever before, and to reach those who are interested in learning it so much sooner. Languages can be recorded as they are spoken and placed online for download so that people can learn and gain a deeper understanding of the world and of themselves.

            Which brings up a question, who has the rights to try and learn these languages, to gain this knowledge before it leaves and must be rediscovered again or remain forgotten forever? There is a growing number of people who are dissatisfied with the life offered to them from their parents. Teens and young adults who feel that the religious institutions of their parents are just that, institutions and not something that actually cares about the people they pretend to protect and save. There is a growing sense of dissatisfaction from the westernized lifestyle where someone works for years and years at a job they hate in order to get to retirement where they can finally enjoy life.

            These people are a resource that is readily available if people are willing to reach out to them. They are willing to learn and share the knowledge they are given. They will be the teachers and artists who have an impact on people's lives. They probably won't be the people who rise to the top of corporations and make the decisions that affect millions of people around the globe. Instead they will be the ones whose books or paintings inspire others. They are the ones who in their spare time will help others. They are the ones who will teach classrooms of young people and attempt to get them to recognize the pain that a North American lifestyle offers. They are the ones who will try to open other people's eyes to what is going on in the world. If they are given the chance they will work with all their passion to make sure that knowledge and languages are never lost and are never ever wasted.

            That is the way the world is now. It is a world of speed and drugs, of work and pain, of suppression and lacking understand and compassion. It doesn't show much respect to the past, it doesn't tend to focus on much other than the future, not even the here and now. It is a place where people run from place to place and don't look at the journey in the middle. It is a world where the one dominant language, English, is slowly eating up the others, though there is a resistance to it. Yet there is opportunity here. The very things which create such negative situations can be turned and used to save indigenous knowledge, can be used to create a better world. If those who are willing to learn really meet with those who have the knowledge to teach then it is possible that nothing really will be lost. It is possible that the world will grow even further. It is likely that people will grow to be greater, to understand more, and to hurt less. It all depends on how people react soon. This is the time when it is being decided. It isn't a time to wait till tomorrow, or to hold back. It is here, it is now. The only question left to ask is the one to ask yourself, ask if you are ready to take the steps. Ask if you think you can do it. Ask if you are ready to be a teacher and a student at the same time. Hope the answer is yes.

When I Wont Write MWBN

OK dude, readers, people who surf the interwebs. I am gonna write you another blog post right now. Why? Why am i writing another one today? Why am i not working on MWBN or reading the bible or some other such activity which fills so much of my time?

Well mainly it is actually this kind of exhaustion flowing through me cause i have only eaten really crappy food lately. No, sorry, that's a lie. I have been eating whole wheat bread and cold meats, but i haven't been eating enough fruits or veggies, i have been missing out on eating garlic and ginger, and i stopped consuming tea ever since the stupid heat wave hit.

So as such a lot of the stuff i have been eating which made me feel full of energy and vitality. Instead now i have been falling prey to the westernized diet and it took till today for me to feel the full effects. Basically i need to go shopping for lots of fruits and veggies and try to be an almost vegetarian for a while.

So instead of doing these things which i need to be doing in order simply to reach the end, (and i know, i have been saying it is all about the journey) but if you never reach the end it is just as bad and focusing on reaching the end too soon.

So yes, i write another blog post because it quite simply is easier to do than to try to learn a new skill, to write a truly well written story. That is part of the problem, i don't just want to write out the story, create the path, and then leave it. It has to be the right path, it has to be one in which the full potential of the characters and their story comes out.

Yes, this story is also mine. It is mine in that i am the one who writes it, the one who is there when the first pain, the first joy, the first fall and the first triumph is experienced by each character. But... i guess a part of me feels some kind of relation to Chuck in Supernatural, to the movie Stranger Than Fiction, and to the movie Inkheart.

In each of these works there is an author who writes out a work, for the sake of art, or for the fact that this story comes into their mind, and they feel that they have no choice but to write it down. This is the feeling i have when i think about this story. I know the plot-line, i know what needs to be said. The problem is that it isn't just my story, it is about those who are the characters in it as well.

And to them i feel a responsibility. Its probably part of my insanity but it has to do with the way i write, with what i demand of myself. And that is why, when i feel tired and my head aches and i can't really focus i blog, but i don't write MWBN, because to write in that state is to fail. To knowingly fail, and that i wont allow.

Going Barefoot From the Neck Down

So what am i going to blog about today? Well there is an idea that occurred to me a few weeks ago. It is something that seems simple on the surface so i don't know how well it will translate into this blog here where i try to burrow in beneath the surface and look at why.

But anywho, this idea occurred to me after playing beach volleyball before my statistics class and then it started to rain. See i got sand stuck all over my feet, and sand in between your feet and your sandals... lets just say it isn't the most pleasant situation. When the rain interrupted the game i went into the library to just sit and read for a while, i figured, ah what the hell, get something useful done.

Then, about ten minutes before my class was about to start i decided to walk over. The downpour of course had stopped, but i noticed the puddles on the ground and decided to wander through them barefoot. Yes, i know, i am an adult, i am in university, i am trying to be a writer. The image of me skipping through puddles doesn't seem to fit with all of that.

Thats the point i am driving at here in this post. What is wrong with skipping around barefoot enjoying the feeling of the warm puddles and the cool pavement? Yes, i have been seen several times by completely random strangers skipping through the city this summer.

What can i say? When something gets me into a good mood i like to express it and share it with those around me.

Now for my second point. Who has seen the movie Fern Gully? Brilliant movie, if you haven't seen it good luck finding it to watch anywhere other than YouTube. I know that i had to search for it for a while before getting a copy on DVD.

Anywho, basic plot of the movie is avatar minus the explosions... oh and it came first. So we have humans destroying an environment except that the fairies, yes the movie is about faeries, don't realize this is what people are doing until quite close to the end. After the main character becomes friends with a human. What does this have to do with me skipping when i am happy and walking barefoot through puddles you may ask?

Well the point is that at a point in the story the human carves a name into a tree, and the fair asks him if he can feel the tree's pain. At this point another main character (who is voiced by Robbin Williams, if my endorsement of this movie wasn't enough for you) says this line "humans can't feel pain, they're numb from the neck down".

That is my point, we live in a society which tends to focus in two ways. That your head, your rational logical mind, is the most important part, except in a couple places, in the bedroom and during some kind of sporting event your body becomes important. Outside of those two areas it doesn't really matter what you feel, it only matters what you think. It doesn't matter how in touch with your body you are.

That is wrong. There is no shade of gray here, not really. That is simply wrong, to ignore a portion of yourself because you are told to. To block out important information because it is convention to do so? Wrong.

Here is my challenge for you over the next week. Walk barefoot a bit, see how things feel beneath your feet. And notice where you would spend all your time if you didn't have shoes and socks (or sandals).

Rule 3: Remeber to Work at Being Friends

Its late at night, so late that it is early. True i have been going to bed around 4 am lately, but 1:41 still counts as so late that it is early right? Ah well, even if it doesn't you can't object till i publish this post, so for now it counts, AHAHAHAHAHA! Ahem, now that the evil laughter is out of the way i can continue with the writing.

So i decided tonight on my drive home (home from where you may ask, though my response will be for the story here it doesn't matter so quit reading the writing inside the brackets and just listen) i decided that there is a post i kinda need to write and, shockingly, post.

See there is this idea that has been kicking around my head for a few months now. Have you ever watched the TV show Supernatural? (i promise there is a point, i am not just trying to get all the fan-girls excited) Well if you have watched it enough to be able to remember the evil creature which eats your soul after mimicking the voice of your loved one who died recently over the phone (yes that all needs to be included together, sorry for the spoiler) then you remember that it talks about how it used to go hungry for so long because it couldn't draw people away from their communities.

Its point was that back in those unenlightened times when people lived in straw huts without central air and bananas flow in, before they got to enjoy Twinkies and Oreos, before ipods and other such things. Back when farming was the norm (yes i enjoy pointing out new things a little too much, but oh well). Way back then, people were closer than we are now. And because of this, because of this sense of community people didn't tend to fall prey to this creature as often as he would have liked.

I know, i know, this doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, i mean is it a cynic like me who blogs on a somewhat out of date computer calling for us all to forsake technology and return to living in the un-air-conditioned huts? Hell to the no!

If i could get air-conditioning for my house right now i would. I love my tech.

Rather, my point comes after spending 8 months living in a one room place in a building with i don't know how many other people. It comes after becoming really close with one group of people, and kinda close with a lot of others (and for some reason my f button isn't working well, so if it is missing from a word, that is why and don't mock me too much).

It comes to me after taking an ASIST course. It comes from being a little obsessed with psych, it comes from being a listening and doing anything in my power to help people out if they ask for it and i can. But honestly, what it comes from most of all (and if you thought of How the Grinch Stole Christmas when you read that line you weren't alone) is moving into my own house before any of the roommates that i want to live with moved in.

See we were a close knit community last year, and this up coming year i dunno if we will be. I don't know how much time i will spend with the people i used to spend damn near every night getting my ass kicked in pool by. I don't know how often we will be able to pull all nighters and watch movies till breakfast opens. (Though personally, i am thinking that this year breakfast should be at Wimpy's)

But what i do know is this, i know over the course of this year, not to mention all the years after it, that i am going to need other people, and like it or not at least some of you are going to need/want me to be around. I know that even if we can't spend every single night together hanging out we can still be there when it counts. And i know that if we really, truly are good friends, then when it comes down too it, we wont let the little things drive us apart forever (though if any of my roomies steal too much of my tea they better be prepared to buy me some new stuff!)

So what i am proposing here is a kind of openness. Its a kind of openess i am planning to mirror in my blog. I am not going to share every little detail with you, you don't need to know the color of my boxers, or what happens on a date. But the choices i make, the places i go, things i think are important about me, those i will share. And if you are a friend of mine i hope you listen and when you need to, i hope you do the same.

Art for Writing's Sake

So i have been thinking about writing a lot lately if you can't tell. As such one of the things i have been thinking about is criticism and editing. See i haven't written a lot of things, a few sure, but compared to "real" writers i am nothing but a flash in the pan so far, just a brief beginning of my writing experience. I mean compared to some writers i might as well have only written this paragraph so far. There is still so much left to develop in my own style and choice in writing.

So thinking about this and really, about art in general cause even though my paintings and pictures suck i love em, even though i can't play music i am passionate about it, and even though at times my singing is epically bad i still do it. Why? Because i have an "artistic soul" some might say, because i love expression others might say. My reply? Because i do.

I don't know why, i can't really explain why. I love understanding and knowledge and expression. If that makes my soul artistic than fine, if i love expression that's fine to. Personally what know it is that it doesn't matter why, what matters is that i do.

And i know people who consider themselves artists, consider themselves writers, and they see this as a grand expression. Art is seen as some kind of connection to the divine, as if in creating the artist is becoming more than themselves, becoming something greater. And to be honest now i disagree with this thought.

It might be because of the fact that i am currently trying to read the bible from cover to cover (only 730 pages in mine but still hard to force yourself to do) or because i have just finished reading a book about encounters with famous and brilliant authors who offered great works to the world. Artists are no different than regular people. To paraphrase a line from the movie Julie and Julia so that the meaning comes through a little easier, she wasn't always famous, she wasn't born a great chef.

Have you ever met those people who create art for "art's sake" and then get upset when someone criticizes it? If it truly is art for art's sake then it doesn't matter if someone doesn't get it, it doesn't matter what someone thinks of it, because in the creating its purpose is served. This blog is my art for art's sake, but not completely. My journal, that private space, is my writing for writing's sake, the paintings i create and don't bother to show people are examples of art for art's sake.

I don't care if you don't like them, i do. That is what art for art's sake means. The moment you intend to let someone judge your work and that opinion matters enough for you to argue it is not longer simply being created "for the art", it has become for the people. And like all public works it is offered up to all the cynics out there to tear down.

Does it make your work less valid? Less special? Fuck no. Your work is as special as the effort you put into it. If you lock yourself in a shed for 8 months working on a novel, a painting, a song, and then come out of your seclusion only to find someone else has already made it, it doesn't make it any less of yours unless you were trying to copy their work.

Y'all know i am attempting to write a novel (and so far seem to be failing because i simply don't sit down and write it) and that i have edited my work thus far a little bit. What you don't know is that there is a friend of mine who is the best and worst editor in the world. Best in that her editing doesn't pull any punches because you are a friend, and the worst for the same reason.

Am i letting her edit my stuff yet? No, not yet. Yes i have posted it here for anyone who wants to, to read it and judge it. Yes you can comment all you want about it and most likely i will let said comments go up. But no, i probably wont make changes on anything you say as of yet (unless you find a REALLY obvious mistake, like putting hedgehog instead of duck). Why? Because though some day i dream of publishing this story that is cooking inside my head, right now it is still a work for me.

One day it wont be, one day i will be a little less selfish and let other people help me shape it. But not yet, for now it is still mine.

The new version, finished editing it myself tonight though i think i may go through a couple new drafts before i am done with it...

Prologue

                It was dark. Darker than most nights, the moon and stars obscured by clouds, the closest city was so far away that even the slightest glimmer of light couldn't reach this forest. The wind whistled, flowing around the dried dead branches of the trees. There were no other sounds as an owl floated above; listening for the scratches of claws on wood that would tell it where to strike.

                There was nothing here though, no sounds of any creatures a meal. The bird flapped its wings twice to stay afloat as the hunger gnawed at the pit of its stomach. It had flown here because there was no competition for food, and now it was becoming aware of why. There appeared to be nothing living in the forest, everything long dead. It didn't make sense; all of the wood should be providing havens for plenty of little rodents.

                The owl flapped its wings again, turning in the air to begin hunting in a new direction. The lack of prey here was driving it away. That was when it heard something.  Footsteps. Yes, it defiantly heard footsteps running through the forest. Its eyes caught a glimpse of white fabric flowing between the giant tree trunks. The gnarled branches made it too hard to fly closer but the owl floated above watching as the creature fled.  

                The owl could see it was a woman, how strange! She was wearing a white dress though close to the ground it wasn't anywhere close to that anymore, stained a red brown shade, it was worn thin in areas and nothing but threads in others. The torn tatters floated above bloodstained feet, she placed them gingerly on the ground as she ran on. Her hair had at some point been in a neat braid but that had fallen apart and now swept around her face. That face that was drawn tight with fear, her eyes wide and bright in the night. Her breath came in gasps and pants, it was clear that soon she wouldn't be able to keep running.

                Despite the apparent exhaustion flowing through her frame the woman didn't fall, she sidestepped roots that hid in the shadows, and slipped around tree trunks. She seemed to know where to step instinctively, moving swifter than most people could dream of managing during the daylight.

                What she was running from? The owl didn't know, as it circled over head it couldn't hear anything coming, it hadn't seen anything. What was so terrifying that she was sprinting like this? It decided to follow her further and then it heard it. The sound of a single claw on bark. It was a tiny snap, hardly noticeable, it shouldn't have carried far but the hunter of the night heard it.

                The woman below began to run faster, her feet that shouldn't have been able to move faster did. The lungs that should have already been ready to burst worked even harder. How she heard the noise was a question the owl might have asked if it could.

                Suddenly a bright light pierced the night; the owl screeched and flapped its wings as it rose in the air. Its eyes smarting from the unexpected light it looked back, the light was coming from the woman though it was slowly bleeding away.

                There wasn't a woman in a white dress anymore, there was a warrior. Her hair was tied back into a braid which hung down between her shoulder blades where two swords crossed over. She was wearing dark brown leather. Around her waist was a belt that was covered in knives and a single pouch which glowed faintly.

                As the owl watched on, its wings spread so that it could silently soar forward, a shadow shot towards her. A silver flash signalled that she unsheathed a single blade and the scent of copper soared skyward as a thin wiry body slammed into the base of a tree. It snarled at her as she ran on, not stopping to finish it off.

                The glow that was coming from her skin showed a creature that seemed to be made of muscle with a layer of skin and fur stretched across it. Its eyes were what sunk in though, bulging out and filled with some kind of rage that told you it wouldn't stop hunting until it was in pieces or dead, whichever came faster. The owl suddenly thought it heard rodents scampering in another direction and shifted its flight.

                The woman sheathed her sword on the run, pulled the bag from her waist along with a knife and stabbed it through the cloth at the top of the bag. Leaping through the air she slammed the knife into a tree trunk, effectively hanging the bag there. She was down to the last one, if she could just hide it then it wouldn't matter what happened to her. She stood in front of the tree while howls started behind her. Apparently she wasn't being chased by just one.

                She raised her hand towards the bag and focused; the long dead wood shuddered and then pulled the bag and knife inside itself. She kept her hand in place when two creatures leapt towards her, their claws outstretched to tear her flesh into pieces.

                The first slammed her into the tree and rode her body down to the ground. Blood welled from where claws sunk into flesh and muscle. She grunted with pain when it struck but then went down with it. Words flowed from her mouth that burned the air around them and the creature was flung from her to strike a tree with enough force that it wavered back and forth when it tried to walk towards her, clearly dazed.

                The second didn't strike so quickly but instead darted forward to slash at her exposed back. The leather parted like butter before a knife. The woman cried out at that, a slight sound before turning to face the creature, just in time to catch a tackle which threw her against the tree before it darted away.

                The first, while still wobbly on its feet, shook its head and rushed forward but stopped just out of her reach. Gingerly the woman withdrew the swords from the sheaths on her back. She lifted them up in a defensive position. She backed slowly up against the tree, never taking her eyes from the two creatures that faced her.

                Growls started low in their throats and gradually carrying forward in some bizarre harmony of hunter that has trapped its prey. One of them lunged forward, its growl growing to a roar. She turned and lashed out with both blades as it dodged back just out of reach while the second leapt for her back and shoved her to the ground before leaping off.

                The first then rushed up and clawed its way over her back before climbing into the tree. It snarled down at her while she levered herself upright. She was moving slowly now, blood was flowing from several holes in her back, her face was scratched, and she was covered in muck from the forest floor.

                "So it is like that is it?" she murmured, more to herself than to the two creatures that surrounded her now. She slammed the swords into the ground and pulled two knives from her belt before launching herself at the creature still on the ground.

                She hit it, though whether it was because she was fast enough or because the creature was surprised that she would try something like that was unknown. The two of them rolled over and over on the ground. There were flashes of knives and claws. Blood watered the long dead ground while snarls and grunts rent the night time air.

                Then as quick as the fight began it ended. The creature lay on top of her. It shuddered and snarled, then fell over. She stood up, blood pouring freely from all over her. She swayed on her feet, her hair now matted. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, but only smeared more blood. A grimace crossed her face before she yelled up at the tree "Two down, one to go, bring it you overgrown ferret!"

                The creature looked at her and nearly flew from the tree it leapt so swiftly. It slammed her into the ground, its claws digging into her shoulders. It raised its head back for a strike when she spoke again. She spoke one word but that word lit up the night, the ground shook and the creature began to glow.

                It jumped back from her, the glow becoming brighter and brighter. It howled at the night sky, it crouched down to the ground. It began to toss mud and dirt up onto its back, where they began to steam. Flames sprouted from its eyes and mouth, before spreading over its entire body as it screamed. It screamed and screamed until there was nothing more than ash on the ground, a grey powder to be blown away in the next wind.

                The woman lay still in the mud except for the rise and fall of her chest. She shuddered as she began to slowly get up. "That one still bothers me... But sometimes there is no other option." Her voice was soft, restrained. It carried that tone of someone who is struggling to keep down their vomit.

                "That may be but you still use it, and you can't argue that you are effective with it."

                The voice came from the forest, and she had frozen at the sound of it. Her shuddering, her breathing even it seemed, had frozen at the sound of that voice.

                An old man slowly walked between the trees. His body was hunched over and he leaned heavily on a twisted old cane. He wore simple clothes, all a uniform brown in color. He was completely bald, and had only a little bit of a beard on his face, pure white stubble that must have grown in the past few days. His eyes sparkled deep in his wrinkled face. He had the look of someone's ancient grandfather.

                "Why are you sitting there in the mud miss?" he asked "And such a mess you have become, let me clean you up."

                He waved one of his hands and a light waved out from it to wrap around her and lift her to her feet. It gathered around her for a moment before breaking into pieces and fading from sight. When it cleared she was clean and healed.

                "Such a cold place..."the old man muttered "what we need here is a fire and a place for me to rest my bones. It has been a long walk following you here, the least you could have done is had a fire ready..." He turned to one of the trees and gently pushed it. The tree split down the middle providing a place for him to sit. He sat and then lifted his hands and gestured at the ground in between them.  Branches snapped from the trees all around and gathered together. When he snapped his fingers they all caught fire.

                "That's much better my dear, would you like me to prepare you a seat? Or will you stand? You'll most likely stand; you would prefer to be able to run again as soon as possible. Still grasping at straws, but this time they won't help."

                It was at this point she found her voice "Salvatore what are you doing here? I knew I would be chased, knew I would be caught, but by you?" The voice that left her throat was filled with emotions, they crowded each other, fighting for space in the few words. Shock warred with fear but both of them were filled with something that there is no label for, that special kind of fear when you face a teacher or a parent knowing that you wronged them.

                Salvatore sighed at this. "What would you expect my dear? As far as everyone else thinks you are just a common thief, I know the difference though. I know what you really did." He sighed again, like a tired grandparent scolding her for taking a cookie. The only thing which gave a hint of how truly upset he was, were his eyes. They burned with a rage and pain that he kept completely from his voice.

                "I am not-" she began before he cut her off, though this time his voice thundered with power and rage "No, you are much worse than that! You betrayed my trust! You betrayed me and stole things that you don't understand, that have uses you can't imagine!" Pain coloured his voice this time. Pain and shock.

                "Salvatore please-" she began.

"No. You have only one option, return them. Return the things that you stole from me. Return them or make me take their locations from you."

                "I can't do that. I am sorry."

                "No my dear, you aren't yet, but you will be." His voice lost its passion with these words, becoming a dead thing simply swaying with wind. It was the voice of someone who accepted the costs even though they would never willingly pay it.

                Before she could say anything she flew up against a tree. She couldn't move a muscle, not a single twitch. He rose from his self made thrown. Light came down from the sky, slowly covering him as his body grew, muscle formed, he stepped from the light and was more than a head and shoulders taller. He had thick dark hair and was clean shaven.

                With a gesture the fire rose in the air and its light grew to illuminate the entire area. The light shone off the blades of the two swords, still impaled in the earth. He looked at them and strolled over to them. With a hand on each he pulled them free.

                "Nice toys let me make a little change to them." He spoke three words over one and then the other. The first began to glow with an orange like, the second with a soft blue. "See, the right words and the right power turns a simple sword into a proper channel for power. Let's have you experience that power right NOW!"

                With those words he crossed the two swords and a flood of light rushed from them to slam into her. It was blinding, a stream of power so strong that it was impossible to see her form anymore. The light burned away the tree behind her. It blazed a path through the forest. There was nothing left that it touched to burn.

                When he at last separated the swords there was nothing left behind her. Steam rose from her clothes, her body was limp and her eyes were screaming. She tried to speak, but nothing happened. He strolled towards her.

                When he smiled down at her his teeth flashed broad and white. "See the power that I can bring to bear against you? Time itself is something I can unwind. Now tell me where I can find what you stole from me!" Power thrummed from his body, visibly vibrating the air around him.  He implanted the swords in the ground on either side of himself and raised a hand towards her, palm first.

                Dark tentacles extended from his palm to wrap around her body, fastening into her flesh like giant leaches. Her back arched and she cried out, her voice harsh and broken. She began to tremble, her muscles flexing and tightening. Her body began to shut down. Darkness flickered around the edges of her vision. Just before it went completely black he closed his fist and the darkness vanished, she dropped to the ground flat on her face, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

                He walked to her side and turned her over with his foot. Her skin was pale, the frigid white of the infirm and soon to die. Sweat coated every single piece of visible skin.

He looked down at her and whispered "I taught you for years, I told you everything, and this what you do with it. You betray me. You risk the safety of the entire world." His face hardened as he continued "you cannot ever escape me. I will find you; I will follow you to The Source and drag you back until this world is safe."

                Her eyes opened as she looked up him. Her breathing was slowing down, her muscles trembled less now. Her eyes locked with him and a blast of energy raced up between them. He was knocked several feet back and up. She flipped herself to her feet and turned to face him, grabbing one of the still glowing swords from where it lay, point first in the ground.

                She rushed towards him, swinging the sword and firing bolt after bolt of blue lightning at him. He deflected them all with casual ease, sending them firing off into the dead forest all around them. They struck the trees and lit them all, causing an orange flickering light to play across the scene.

                With a gesture he sent a blinding white light between the two of them. When it cleared the fires were out, and she lay at the base of a tree, the sword gone. He walked towards her again, the expression on his face showing pain despite her never landing a critical blow.

                "What was that?" he asked "I taught you far better than that, I taught you to avoid the rushing the attack and instead focus on the weaknesses of your opponent. You know better."

                With a gesture he brought her to her feet. Though they were unsteady beneath her they held. She stumbled and he made a move to catch her but she caught herself first.

                She looked him in the eye and shrugged "You don't have any, and I figured my best bet was to try the unexpected. Apparently I was wrong."

                "You know that mistakes aren't that simple to let slide. With anyone else you would be dead on the ground. With anyone else you wouldn't have lived past that first blast."

                "Your right, with anyone else i would be dead already and no one else would have bothered to get this close" she said looking him in the eye as she spoke several glowing words in a long line. They dropped from her mouth and gathered around her.

                Salvatore leapt back from her, fear crossing his features. The words cloaked her in a glowing power that became stronger and stronger until she lit the forest in this area all by herself, brighter and harsher than daylight.

                "Why?" he asked "Why this?"

                In reply she raised her arm and unleashed energy towards him. He leapt aside and it destroyed a line of the forest, ploughed a trench through the earth and left a sound like thunder in its wake. He scrambled to pick up the remaining sword.

                "It is as you said" she spoke, her voice sounding in three, the first was her own, strong and rebellious, the second the sound of thunder over the ocean, loud and commanding. But this third voice that rang out was the one that terrified him. It was the voice of an angry god or angel, it spoke not to his ears but to his heart, he heard it in his soul. "I could not escape you, even in death when i would rejoin The Source you would find a way to hunt me. But if I no longer exist no one can continue to chase me."

                She then lunged towards him, her body moving faster than he could track, he barely had time to raise a wall around himself before she was there. He could feel the heat radiating from her through the wall of his own power.

                She placed a palm flat against it, cracks ran throughout it and it fell to pieces all around him. He felt her presence seep into him, her mind a burning presence in his own soul. His strength fled from his body and he began to fall towards her. All he could do was raise the sword in front of himself and impale her.

                She screamed and stumbled back from him. Her shriek caused cracks to form in the ground, caused trees to fracture and splinter along their height. Salvatore fell to the ground, his hands covering his ears. 

                She grasped the handle of the sword and pulled it from her flesh. Light poured from the wound instead of blood. She pressed a hand to it and looked at him. "This is my escape, my freedom at last. I know you will find your own one day. Remember though, it may not come in the form you desire."

                She sank to her knees and words began to pour from her mouth, words with no translation, words that together formed a song. Her body burned brighter and brighter. The ground around her caught fire. He rose from the ground and ran towards her, the temperature climbing the closer he got.

                He staggered the last few steps and caught her body as it fell, the last few words dropping from her lips before her eyes closed. Her skin burned his body, his clothes caught fire. The light slowly drained from her, leaving behind a dried body.

                He looked at her and tears began to form in his eyes. "Why?" he asked "Why?" he screamed to the sky. It was then that he gave in and cried, holding the mummified body of his last student.

As i promised, the original version

An owl flew across the full moon, its eyes scanning the treetops below while its ears listened for prey beneath the branches of the black forest. The clouds shifted obscuring the moon again, and in the darkness a roar reached the bird's ears. As the owl spiralled away from the source of the noise, no mice would dwell near such a beast. As it spun away it saw a shape far below, nearly blocked from its view by the twisted branches. All it could see was torn patches of white darting beneath the canopy.

The white was from a stained and torn dress, worn by a young woman. She was sprinting as fast as she could, her thin face pale and drawn, fear plastered across her features. Her long ragged skirt slowed her down, its tattered edges catching lightly on the brambles. Lifting it higher she prayed she didn't trip and fall over a tree root in the darkness of the forest. The gnarled twisted branches blocked the little light coming down from the stars. The rotting scent of the dead logs mingled with the smell of freshly dug earth.

She could hear it coming closer, smashing trees and boulders out of its way, unstoppable in its rage. She had caught glimpses of its stained teeth, or its red eyes the few times that she had risked a glance back. The continued thundering of its legs as it powered forward matched the speed of her heart as it raced in her chest.

A horrible scream of hatred came forward followed by pieces of boulders and trees which she had passed only moments before. Terror urged her legs faster to move faster; spilling into every section of her being, holding her in its icy clutch. She sprinted on, knowing in the back of her mind that she could not keep up the pace necessary to escape the creature.

Her muscles began to burn, as the hours took their toll. Gasping for breath she felt her feet beginning to slow. 

She clung grimly to the bit of determination that had kept her alive while others had fallen to their deaths around her. Her head snapped back, she stumbled, as her body devoted all of its energy to force her tired limbs to keep moving. Grimly she noted that the trees were thinning above her, and that the beast would be upon her the moment she passed into the open. The beauty of the stars would be the last thing she saw before her death.

With a stumble her head fell forward. She saw plains stretching away into the distance. Turning she slid behind a tree. It was time for her to offer her last stand. There was nowhere left to hide now that she had been found. It was time for her to remove her disguise and fight in her true form.

She was unsure why she had held onto this guise for so long. Perhaps, it had given her a home at last, as well as a family, two things that she had never owned. Reaching with her mind she felt the magical cable that connected her magical guise to her real body.

Envisioning a lake set high in the mountains with a perfectly calm surface she drew several even breaths, this image to helping to calm her.

                As her breathing came under control, she wrested control of her mind from the maelstrom of emotions that threatened to consume her. When she was at last calm, so that no stray thought might unleash the powers she was about to use, she began to pull her body forth from where she stored it. The Source was a place of great power, and even greater mystery, and the only place she could have hidden her true self where no other being could have found it.

                Slowly her body emerged, glimmering with all the colors of the rainbow. As her true body appeared her present form began to dissolve into dust, swept away by the four winds. Just like my past she thought with a bitter smile.

When she opened her eyes they were a steel grey, holding no mercy, ice cold, as if all human feeling had been swept away from the images they had seen.  Her body was hardened and smooth like the edges of the swords kept to her back. Their blades were of a blue steel, while stones at the pommels glowed, one with an amazing fire, and the other with an awesome swirling whirlpool. In her hands she held a stone of similar design but much larger in size, which held the powers of both, and seemed to hold much more power of an unidentifiable form. She was clad in a simple brown leather vest, and similar pants.

Reaching down she placed the stone on the ground, and then moving her hands she placed a spell to hide it from those who would use its power, for it was still too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands. It glowed brighter for a moment, lending its strength to her spell. Reaching back she drew the blades from their sheaths.

Stepping out to face the beast she saw it had stopped, and stood across a small clearing, panting like a hound that senses the hunts end. It stood tall, almost as tall as a tree, thick with muscle; its face was shaped with forward facing deep-set eyes. Its mouth was in a snout similar to a wolf's but shorter. Its claws were shaped like an eagles talons, but larger to match the frame of the beast. They looked sharp enough to slice through stone.

                They leaped forward, towards each other, the creature swinging out towards her. Ducking underneath its arms she slashed its torso with the blades biting in deep. It swung down towards her with a scream of rage. Sidestepping she dodged the blow, and noticed that no blood flowed from the wound. Swinging around behind it she began to utter a spell that would sever any magical aid that the creature was receiving. Spinning around it struck her in the shoulder, sending her ploughing into the ground; her head swam as her vision clouded.

She was amazed, both at how rusty she was and at how quickly it had reacted to her spell. Leaping to her feet she turned to face the creature, ducking just before it struck her a blow with its claws to the back of the head. She was not quick enough, however to dodge the grasp which fastened around her waist. It lifted her up to its face, as they were eye to eye for a moment she sensed a hidden mind beneath the rage. It then released a roar, which was full with pieces of rotting meat that had clung to its teeth from past meals. As it continued to roar bile began to climb its throat. Its body began to shudder as the liquid rose up its throat, its stomach acid to be sprayed over her, dissolving her into something easily swallowed without a struggle. She freed herself from the shock of the horror of this attack; she began hacking down at the wrists of the beast in a mad attempt to free herself.

Howling it dropped her, but not before some acid landed on her, burning into her clothes and hair. Its paw remained attached only by a few tendons and bone. Dropping to the ground she rolled to avoid the downward blow.

Leaping up, she smelt flesh on her, the remnants of some meal long ago. She threw her blade at its throat and severed the spine of the creature. It stumbled back and fell to the ground, its breath gurgling in its throat.

She stood, and began to walk in front of its writhing body. Sheathing the remaining sword she stood over its body as its life ebbed away down to its death.

She made a few gestures of power to open the way for her to cast her spell. Speaking few words she used raw power to begin cutting the cable that gave the beast its magical assistance, and allowed a mage control over it.

She felt nothing but the strength of it, saw nothing but its brilliance as she struggled to keep her focus on slicing the cable, and ending the creature's magically aided life. Continuing to blast forward she felt the strength of the mage, he was one who could stand against her, one she should be cautious when facing.

Suddenly the cable snapped, releasing her power with no other outlet, formed flames that flew forward, basting through the remnants of the creature. Its body caught fire, though was turned to ash in seconds. Reaching down she picked up the sword the she had thrown, though the blade was blackened a little and the leather singed it was mostly unharmed.

The stone at the pommel however shone brighter than before, flashing to gain her attention. This was a warning, for the stones were charmed by their creators to warn the holder of danger.

Turning around she spotted a stranger wrapped in a thick black cloak. Muttering a few words she launched a spell towards him designed to cause a small jolt of pain, just enough to allow her to get close with her blades. The spell was no more than a slight glimmer that flittered across the space between them.

As the spell flew at the cloaked form she saw the first change in its manner. Issuing from within the folds of his cloak came a cruel mocking laugh, reaching out like a whip to lash at her over and over, rising in volume as the spell drew nearer. Rather than simply deflect her spell or cancel it he grasped it, holding it before him, like one might a piece of jewellery before buying it. The figure then shot it back with greater power. Where before it had been a faint glimmer now glowed a bolt, where before it had flitted across the space, it now raced with no chance for her to even think of protecting herself.

The spell threw her back, knocking the swords from her hands and sending her sprawling next to a tree. Looking to the sides she saw that there was no way she could reach her blades. She would have to wait for him to get close and then attack with her hands. She could not see his body, though he must be frail to be wrapped up so tightly.

                While she formulated her plan of attack he moved closer, stopping just outside of where she could reach in her present state. Focusing herself she shielded her mind, but was not confident it would hold, remembering the strength of the spell he had sent back to her. Standing tall he let his cloak fall.

Her mind had been formulating a plan but upon seeing this man her mind froze.

It couldn't be him, it just couldn't be, how could it be him.

He was the head of the council of Selvaration, the most powerful sorcerer in the world, who created creatures by merely lifting his arms, he could not allow himself to sleep for the creatures he dreamed would rise and gain form in the world. He who had sent both body and spirit into The Source. He who could control powers enough to destroy that which had been placed by ancient powers still, strange to mankind.

His name was Salvatore and he was the only person whom could inspire fear in her. As these thoughts ran through her mind her face remained impassive, refusing to offer up any clue to him.

When several moments had passed he spoke in a calm, even, yet disappointed voice "a wise man once said 'poor is the student who does not surpass the master', what would he think of you, my brightest pupil, now a traitor?"

Her voice was even, and cold, not betraying her hidden feelings "he would wonder how you could fail to include loyalty in your teachings."

"Loyalty to those who took you in is something which needs to be taught?" he asked, raising his eyebrows

"You trained me never to trust appearance, nor to trust anyone no matter how they acted, yet now you punish me for learning you lessons far too well?"

"I also taught you that our world needs to be protected, our secrets guarded, now you make it so that I must protect the world from you."

"How? Bind my mind to The Source? Even you are not powerful enough to do that, and do you dare to kill me? You are too physically weak from the magical force you wield to destroy me any other way, how do you intend to do what you say?"

"Did I say I would destroy you? No, I never did, I said I would protect the world and its secrets from you, which is what I shall do. You clearly remember our early lessons so I dare not kill you, nor do I plan to bind your mind to the source, but rather use the strength of the stone to bind your mind, and leave you no freedom. I will turn you into a mindless servant, seeing all that goes on around you but unable to do anything."

She looked on, fear yet again coursing its icy path through her veins. A grey fog grew slowly from his fingertips, gathering around him before lancing forward. It bound her, stretching her up, locking her muscles in a standing position, levitating slightly, leaning against the tree. It bound her so fully that she failed to draw breath; her lungs could not move, she could even feel her heart struggling against it, trying to beat, and slowly losing. He walked towards her when she was fully bound, slowly, and she could see that each step pained his ancient, arthritic joints.

Slowly he shifted, turning to pick up the swords, though now the stones did not glow but appeared as pits of darkness, drawing in any available light. His arms leaned heavy against his sides and he stumbled back to face her. With a grunt of strength he drew the blades up so that they rested on his shoulders.

A grin drew itself on his face, light slowly spreading from his hands, rekindling the fire, and sending the whirlpool spinning again. The fire leap from the stone, while the whirlpool followed lifting him the fire glittered gold while the whirlpool glowed like a current of sapphires lifting him into the air. He a turned into a dark shape within the blinding lights of the magic while the smells of brine from the ocean and sulphur from a volcano mingled in the air, becoming at once one and the same while also being something new altogether.

Her gaze was held with the magic, her mind blank with the simple awe, slowly shifting into horror as he grew, shifting into a larger being, and the blights began to dim, breaking off into individual specks, setting him down gently.

His being had shifted, before he had been a frail old man, who's age appeared to be 90 or above, fragile arthritic hands, pale as a ghost, his hair thing and almost transparent. His body had been bent and broken, slumping over. Even when he was not slumped over he was not a tall man, but diminutive in size, lacking even a aurora of power, or hidden strength that could be found in most who's power could approach, but not match, his.

Now he was tall, a giant of a man, his hair wavy leading down his back in long beautiful locks. His body was thick and wide, muscle rippling over him. His age seemed to almost have changed; now becoming something near a 25 year old. His clothes had changed too, where before they had been poorly made, the humble cloth he had always worn. Now they were silk, gently waving, whispering as he moved. Two black leather sheathes formed on his back as well.

Though she had seen the power of those stones she had never seen such a drastic change. He had often used them to remove pain when she was his student but never this.

                Still grinning he looked down at her, waves of calm strength radiated outward from him. Looking at her he sheathed the swords, and waved his hands, clearing the binding from her face, and neck, causing her to draw in large gulps of air as her heart leaped into beating once again.

                "Now tell me, where did you hide my stone?"

She looked up at him, impassive thinking of how he had been the first person she had truly trusted, loved, a new father. Though the largest part of his physical form was different the smile was the same kindly smile that he had shown her when he taught her, when he wanted her to try a little harder, knowing it was possible. But he was not who he appeared she reminded herself, he had hid this power, and she could not know what else he was hiding. He was not who she thought, he was not the man she had been forced to betray. She would have to last as long as possible against him, for it would be impossible to hold out forever.

"Why would I tell you where I hid it, why would I waste these last 12 years?" she asked, buying for time.

"Because" he spoke, his power enforcing his words "it is mine, which you stole, and you will return it to me."

"Why don't you just rip open my mind, you obviously have the strength, and I won't be telling anytime soon, your training will protect me for a while."

"Because the stone cannot be found by force, either you tell me or risk someone else stumbling across it, someone who will either be burned up by its strength or corrupted by its power. Tell me where it is, or will you have to be responsible for destroying countless lives?"

"Threaten me all you will, you will never have that stone as long as I live. I will conceal it from you, for countless lives ended indiscriminately is better than what you plan."

"Think before you make a decision, do not act rashly, think on the wonders I could show you with the stone."

"Sacrifices must be made, and I had 12 years, remember to think on any offers you had for me. I made my choice, you need to realize that." with her final words she leaned her neck forward and spat in his face.

                Instantly his expression changed, rage clouded his face, the air began to bend and wave where it touched him. The light from the stars was extinguished as clouds moved across; growing larger and darker, lightning began to clash. Pebbles and sticks began to weave around slightly above the ground.

                Reaching out he slapped her, her head falling to the side while the rest of her body remained standing, held by the bonds. It had felt like his hand had been made of steel. As he stood straight he drew in a rattling breath, and forced the power back inside himself. The clouds immediately began to break up, while the stones and twigs fell back to the ground.

Placing a weak forced smile on his face he looked her in the eye. The smile straining while rage burned in his eyes was more terrifying than his open display of force. Leaning towards her he looked closely in her eyes then leaning back slowly dragged the blades out of their scabbards. Looking down the length of them he waved them back and forth, watching the light play in her eyes. Appearing satisfied he sheathed them and leaned next to her ear. She barley caught his words but when she grinned when she heard them.

"True my manner may not have improved since I was a student but I know my place has to be above fools like you, those short-sighted buffoons in Hajon, and those weaklings that you place your illusions on."

His fake mask of a smile split after this and he leaned up closer, his face almost touching hers. Small pieces of spittle flew forth, splattering on her. "You think that we are short-sighted, we who protect this world, who use all available resources to bring peace and happiness to all people, you insult those students who go to my university to improve themselves and those skills they have at their disposal, who's numbers you once counted yourself amongst. Well I know of your past, living with those lowborn fools in the mountains, it would be wise of you to remember what you did during your past before attempting to use mine against me. The only thing that brought you so far in life is that people like me mistakenly offer you help and piety."

Her reply was delayed for a moment by shock. How could he know about her past, where she had come from? She had told no one, had never met anyone who could have recognized her from her humble beginnings, she had been sure of that, so how could he know? She had placed her past behind her, granting it no more power over her life than the grains of dust beneath her feet, how powerful must he be to have found out about that?

She had not believed the warnings told to her, but how could she not now? She had been told the council could look into both the past and future, but sure the past was the past, and they wouldn't dare. As for the future, too many things could affect it for them to view all possibilities. How could it be? How could her know of her past? Did he know then what she had done when she reached the city? Could he know how she had gained such sway over the city leaders? Or the way her ethics had dwindled as she met more and more people, saw what held sway over them all? Could they know every single shameful thing she had done?

When she replied there was barley a waver in her voice, almost inaudible, but there nonetheless. "You speak of a past I have left behind, of events that are no more, of a person I am no longer. You threaten me with these things, but they no longer matter to me." Her voice gained strength as she continued speaking, the waver disappearing. "You think to hold over me bygone places and people. Do you truly believe that I would give up all I have worked for all these long years?"

"You seem to believe you have a choice in the matter. You do not; you will give me the stone I once gave you. You may have been strong enough to hide from me longer than any other opponent, but I have you now and will not release you."

Drawing the blades in one quick fluid motion, crossing the pommels so that the stones lined up, power began to grow in the back stone, forming in the whirlpool, then blasting forward, its power magnified by the flames of the second stone, sunlight through a magnifying glass. When it hit it felt like the power of the oceans mixed with the power of the volcanoes of the planet, driving forward into her unstoppable.

Her eyes closed the moment the spell hit but she felt someone or something watching her other than Salvatore. For a brief moment she let herself believe that the spell had failed, or that it would not take effect, this was a mistake however, for when its true power hit, she was stunned.

                She could feel a great amazing happiness fill her, she felt the simple joy of watching an eagle soar, the pride in accomplishing a task, the happiness a child feels when receiving a new toy, the joy of being with someone you loved. She felt all the happiness of the world combined. She felt these pleasurable feelings marred by the sadness of the loss of a loved one, the depression of being regretted by those you cared about, the pain of knowing you were dying, the crushed feeling of your dreams failing, the pain of a broken heart. It was marred by the sadness of the world.

                She smelt freshly bake cake, fields upon fields of flower, mixed with rotting flesh, the coppery taint of blood. She smelt wood smoke, and fried meat, mixed with the overwhelming taint of alcohol, the stench of feces. She felt rough wood and soft cloth under her fingers, mud around her feel, and clean grass against her toes. Her body felt like it was being burned by oil flames, at the same time she felt loving caresses. She felt her hair being pulled out and at the same time, it being washed gently, she felt everything. She heard the cry of an eagle, the sounds of a newborn baby and all the music of the world. She tasted a fine wine, burnt bread, and many other things she had never tasted and never would.

Opening her eyes she saw ever mixing colors swirling together, forming the many different situations she now felt. She felt her mind splitting, losing the me of who she was as she was dragged apart by these different lives. She felt everything; saw everything, each feeling magnifying itself as she experienced it from every angle. She lost who she was and instead became everything else.

Slowly the images and experiences drained from her, the memories staying, and the torn pieces of her mind rejoining, weaker, as if something had been taken from them. She felt drained, and not just emotionally, physically as well. Her neck could not support her head. She couldn't focus, her mind replaying over and over the scenes. The logical part of her mind, numbed from her ordeal, wondered how she could still be upright.

A snapping of twigs alerted her to where she was, and what had happened to her. A knuckle under her chin brought her eyes level with his.

"Well?" He asked "will you tell me now, or will I have to send you to The Source again?"

                Looking into his eye she saw his annoyance with her, for that's what it had become, coupled with something else that reminded her of what people had looked like when she told them she had no parents. He now had the aurora of power that expressed his strength. She knew she should feel fear at what he had said; The Source was a hard place to send someone's spirit, for it wasn't exactly a place, and for it to have drained her he must have used some of her strength to send her there.

                With a hollow feeling she saw her fate, knew what she must do.

"Well?" he asked again "where is it?"

Tilting her eyes up she looked at him and asked, "Really you want to know where it is? Then I'll tell you." her voice cut off as a cackle rose through her throat, mocking him, harsh and unreal. Stopping for breath she began to speak again. "Your stone was lost, and you will never find it, I cannot even remember where it is. I think it fell to The Source."

Though his face remained clear his eyes showed a flash of shock. Before he could reply to that she spoke 3 words whose power burned her throat. Sparks of electricity flickered over her body, before becoming absorbed into her body. Slowly she began to glow, the light burned off the spell he had placed on her.

Free now her body glowed brightly, a sky blue sheen radiating off into the night. Her hair rose around her face, her eyes became pure blue, her pupils disappearing. As she raised her hands overhead a white beam slowly spiralled out from her hands, creating a clearing around them. Her body burned with a heat that fell away in waves, washing over him, forcing him to stumble away from her power.

He was afraid, for he had taught this to her and knew what she was capable of in this state. The words she had spoke released ancient powers, far too great for anyone to control.

When she spoke her voice was grating, filled with a power she could not control, harsh and commanding, no longer containing any trace of who she once was. "You will never make demands of me or anyone else ever again. You do not deserve to live on this planet, and I will rid it of you."

Stretching forward a hand she sent a blast of energy forward, arching towards him. Leaping to the side he barley dodged the blast, rolling to the side, his face pale in terror. Drawing the blades he crossed them in front of him. Her next blast was cut by the swords, digging trenches on either side of him. He spoke a word to launch himself backwards onto his feet, and then stretching the blade forward released a storm of flames, sweeping across the earth, racing towards her.

Raising her hands she created a shield of light blue energy, and waving her hand she used it to force the fire back on him, containing it within a cage of power. Lowering her hands the flames and the shell disappeared.

She laughed at him again, the sound like a lash, flicking into his ear, biting his mind.

"Where is your true power? Unleash it, for if you don't you don't stand a chance here."

Stretching over her head she brought her arms crashing down, releasing a torrent of lightning, striking him hard enough to wound, but weak enough to avoid death.

At last they stopped; he lay on the ground, blackened from the strikes. Stretching out she focused onto the last blast she could send, forcing all her remaining power into the energy bolt. She let the blast go, racing towards him. Rolling over he looked up, his body weak, he raised a shield just in time, defecting back the blot. It arced into the sky, slowly disappearing as it lost energy.

Her body collapsed as the shot reached his shield. Her body was now a wasted husk. As the shot left her it burned her body to blackened ash. Slowly, his injures causing him to be careful, Salvatore rose, and using his blades as canes he made his way to her remains. Looking down at her, tears formed their way in his eyes.

"Why? Why did you have to fight? Why didn't you give up? Why did you have to kill yourself? Was it worth it? Why?"

Slowly rage combined itself with grief as it worked its way through him. He fell to his knees, shaking with uncontrollable emotions running through him, tearing at his soul. The ground began to crack as his fingernails dug into his palms. His body tightened. Raising his head to the sky he let loose his heart in an agonizing howl, using the remnants of his strength. He fell into an exhausted sleep, confident that the threat to his world was ended.