Stranger Than Fiction

It's strange.

This Saturday, I will be heading off to college. Granted, it's only twenty or so minutes down the road from home.

Still.

But going to college isn't the strange thing, per se. It's not separating from friends, which is sad; neither is it homesickness nor anxiety that has me in a peculiar twist.

It's the fact that I'm only eighteen.

I'm just eighteen years old, and really, I'm not even that since my birthday was just a few weeks ago. I'm just shy of still being seventeen, still being in high school, still being sheltered, and yet...

I feel like I'm ready to head out into the world. Heck, I feel like I'm ready to take the world by storm. Maybe it's idealism, or maybe it's my youth. I don't know.

Still.

I feel...ready. To become my own person, to live my life, my way. But for God's sake, I'm still a teenager!

I haven't driven. I haven't voted. I've never fallen into or out of romantic love. I've never riden a bike without a helmet, picked out constellations with friends, eaten a fish taco... and yet, here I go.

Here I feel.

And I'm only eighteen.

Don't you think it's strange?

To Phear Or To Phail?

Alrighty, so Ive been purging my room the past week. Of what, you may ask?

Crap.

Pure, unadulterated crap.

Well... not literally. Crap equals old college mail and sacrificial school papers not worth the time of saving. Did I mention that I totally stole the shredder from the living room and still haven't brought it back out?

Yeah. That's how serious this particular purging is.

... phear me?

Ahem. I must say, however, that this purging is not completely unredeemable! I found an assignment I did just last year in AP Lit--a parody of Hamlet's 'To be, or not to be?' monologue--and I thought I'd post it here for your viewing pleasure.

Behold! The Phear of Bad Fanfiction:

To read, or not to read: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler of the mind to suffer
The slings and arows of horrible fanfiction,
Or to take keyboards against a sea of errors,
And by reviewing flame them? To review: to criticize;
No more; and by criticism to say we end
The head-ache of the thousand forehead slaps
That exasperation is heir to 'tis a solution
Devoutly to be wish'd. To review, to criticize;
To criticize: perchance to be constructive: ay, there's the rub;
For in that criticism of authors what review may come
When we have ourselves written off these contemptable creations
Must give us pause: there's the repulsion
That makes a joke of such horrible prose;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of flames,
The reviewer's wrong, the proud author's arrogance,
The pang of abandoned series, the update's delay,
The absence of the well-written and the abounding hiatuses
That overtake merit of the fandom
When good authors in their quietus make
A lack of decent writing?

...I'm not entirely certain it makes sense, but it was fun to write. : D

But onward we shall go. And to help you with that and to battle the bad fanfiction, here's a good one:

It's another Danny Phantom fic, but it's amazing. It's called Checkmate, and it's got to be on my top five Most Epic Story's Read Ever. In short, it's a tale of DannyVlad mentorshipness, but...I mean, seriously, I've never seen a story this epic--and that's a reference to both it's amazingness and size, ladies and gents.

However, I have also decided to insert Checkmate's actually summary by the author, Pearl, herself!

Danny's fifteenth birthday is coming up and his friends and family plan a surprise party for him; however, his fun, ghost-free birthday comes to a halt when Jazz mysteriously collapses during his party. Now Danny has to deal with his sister's sick state and ghost hunting. But Danny is faced with an even greater problem when Vlad comes to visit. What will Danny do when his sister's life depends on one choice from him?

I retyped that for you people. Please appreciate that. Especially considering I still look at the keyboard to type. T^T

But yes, as always, this particular fic is much, much more than what it's summary says. Beyond the detailed plotline and incredibly faceted and intense characterization, Checkmate offers something else (that I appreciate, at least), too: because this story is now four years old and has yet to be abandoned, you get to see the author's writing evolve. That in and of itself is amazing to observe.

I urge anyone looking for a great story to read this one!

Whew. Finally posted this. I'll probably be posting one again tomorrow about something completely different, but I'll worry about that later.

Thanks for reading, and as a note to all the stories I'm following and potential blog comments--I hope to read you soon!

It Fits In A Breadbox

As in, this blog does! XD

So yes, I've been writing this story--fanfiction, of course--and trying to motivate myself. It is my hope that this little Prologue-Of-Sorts is going to motivate me to get my butt in gear and write the freaking thing.

Anywho, this is from my Danny Phantom, Ember-centric fic of which there is no title. Ahem. But yes, it focuses on her human life before she became ghost. Let me just say that as a given (courtesy of my twisted mind) it's dark and angsty and, well, tragic. ^^;;

And with that given, well, given, please do not be shocked by the slight cussing in this here prologue. If you knew the part this story is (will be?) from, you'd understand and commiserate, I think.

Without further ado, I give you the prologue!

Tick.

She blinked, thinking of the clichés that would describe this, this thing trembling along her ribs and crawling through her lungs. It didn’t burn. It didn’t stab. It didn’t tear, or cut, or bruise.

Tick.

It crept, restless and cold, not unlike the goose bumps racing first across her arms and then down her back. It made her feel restless and angry and echoing inside, all at once--a massive, roiling juxtaposition that pitted her Self against her own invisible enemy, the one she saw in the mirror everyday, the one she saw reflected in their eyes.

Tick.

It was like constantly being on the edge of hyperventilating, too fearful to breathe lest it devolve into gasps for air, for oxygen, for life, for all the things she would never find so long as she kept living--

Tick.

She turned, staring at the dark corners instead of the blue-gray wall. She blinked. Blinked again, listening to the sound of the lids snapping together, the soft whick that only you or the unbearably Close and Quiet could ever hear.

Tick.

But the blinking was muffled, like she was wearing her headphones--rhythmic, expected, yet muted. It matched to the clock, the infernal clock that brought nothing but hell and death and all its little friends along with it’s Pandora’s box of misery.

Tick.

For a moment, she thought the shivers had started again. But then she realized they had never stopped.

Just like her thoughts.
Just like the Damn Clock.
Just like her endlessly blinking eyes.
Just like her insufferable, beating heart.

Tick.

She sat up suddenly, screaming against the crap world, the crap people in it, and all the rest of the utter bullshit that everything threw her way--

. . . but she realized that her raging was not echoing off the confines of her room, or phasing through the walls to meet the neighbors and the rest of the stupid, blind people on the street. It was ricocheting off the inside of her skull.

All it’s damage was being thrown against herself, against her own mind.

If she had still been breathing, she would have stopped doing so right about then.
He had done a good job. Far, far too good of a job.

And he was never going to know.

She would make certain of it.

Tell me if it compels you to read, please, or if it needs a grammatical overhaul!

Nerding, Dogs, and All Things Metaphoric

Okay. I've accepted my nerdiness. Really, I have. It was acknowledged, accepted, and embraced long before the release of Half-Blood Prince--the book, not the movie.

But I seem to have submitted to a whole new level of nerd.

It wasn't the fanfiction, or the wandering into the toy aisle of Target (trademark) to find the strawberry scented Lots-O-Huggin' Bear from Toy Story 3. No. It was the fact that I contemplated (read as: bloody agonized) over whether or not I should post another blog entry today, and if I did, all the things I could potentially write about.

I fear I've stooped low on this particular totem pole.

But, no matter! Simply put: I'm bored. Bored as all get out. Bored enough to ponder actually cleaning my room of the strategically placed piles of clothing that I laid out last week in my effort to organizepurge my wardrobe for college. Alas, that pondering was in vain, for I instead aided in the de-furring of one of my beloved dogs.

Enter Ace, the adorable, lovable black cockerspaniel. To Slytherin and above, he stinks. Like, more than your average smelly furball. I had to hold up his paws so my dad could shave his stomach of the matted rug it had become while he (the dog) panted in my face and tried to encourage me to save him by licking my arm. I think his breath was worse than his general odor...

But I love him, so I endured. All for you, buddy. And guess what? Tomorrow I'm breaking out the gloves and dish soap. B-A-T-H-T-I-M-E. >:D

You just wait, dude. All in due time, my friend. All in due time. Not to mention Abbey's getting one too, so you won't be alone in your odor-eliminating suffering.

But until then, I shall focus on practicing my typing. It's really rather pathetic, but I still can't really type without looking at the keys. I mean, come on! I've been around computers since I was five--that's twelve years, approaching thirteen (insert squeal over veiled-and-vague Midnighter reference here); and if you've never heard of the Midnighters Trilogy by Scott Westerfield, you need to Google it. Now. Seriously. You don't know what you're missing.

Oooo, and speaking of books, I got a book with piano playing and learning exercises! It was only $3.98 on Target clearance. Well worth the four bucks, and I'm a cheapie. After I can play all the songs in the book, I hope to learn a bunch o' songs I love. :D

And Japanese.
And calculus.
Maybe some ballet, too.

I actually wanted to be a ballerina, when I was little, cause ballet's so freaking graceful and awesomesauce. Ahh, and what you've all (my current two followers, lawl) been waiting for! The fandom reference, for the obsession with which this blog has been titled.

I started reading a Harry Potter fanfic yesterday that is epically amazing, though I fear it may be discontinued. It's called The Tiniest Wish. Of course, I'm an utter sap for Severitus, or Parental!HarrySeverus, stories (well, most all parental stories in all the fandoms I follow, really...)--but only the well-written stuff, I swear!

Anyway, this is one pretty epic little tale, though I fear it may have been discontinued. Of course it's entirely possible that it's finished and has a sequel up and the author just didn't mark it as complete...

-salivates-

Ahem. But yes, it's quite good, so I encourage you to check it out--but only after you've finished any unfinished Epic Lists of Fanfiction Recommendations, if you so choose.

Last night I was also reading an amazing (current, may be more) three-parter, called A Serious Discussion While Watching Cartoons. It's also Harry Potter, and it's kinda a HarryHermione, but in a way you've probably never seen. It's not that lovey-dovey, bordering-creeper, harlequin crap. It's amazing, and it's not all HHr by far. Harry ostracised as a squib--or...wait, he can what?

That's all I'm sayin'. BD

And in between all that--pondering life,wonder if there's still ice cream in the freezer, and seeing Band of Brothers on the TV and thinking about how Harry Potter is an allegory of World War II and the Holocaust--I've been writing fanfiction! About time, yeesh, I know, I know. It's actually not HP (zOMG, acronym! : 0), but it is... DP!

...or Danny Phantom, for all you non-obsessed out there.

It centers around Ember, one of the villains, and her human life. Part of the plot lies in the song, Ember's song, the one that takes metaphor and vague-ity to a whole new level. But the rest lies locked up tight in my brain (and a portion on my hard-drive) until it's all written and in the to-be-posted stage.

I hope it turns out epic! And if not epic, I'll settle for memorable. ;P

Yes, Danny Phans, that was an actually unintentional Ember pun. Hey, I said this ride would be puntastic!

Alrighty, I've wasted enough of your life (and mine) with meh rambling fer now.

I'm gonna go get lost in some fanfiction again--in The Tiniest Wish, to be more specific. I hope anyone taking the time to read this decides to check it out, and that in your reading of my blog you had a few chuckles. I do so try. ;P

Oh, and please don't let my garish typos discourage you from reading. My fingers just can't help it, and there's no way in facebook I'm re-reading this monster to find 'em and fix 'em. x3

See ya next time!

The Obligatory First Post

Firsts are everything. First word, first steps, first tooth, first person to tell you that if you swallow gum you'll you-know bubbles for the rest of your life.

So...here it is. My first blog! : D

Let's hope I actually use this thing. For what, I don't know. But then, I don't know much about my life and it's direction, yet, either.

Feel free to join me on my sporadic, sometimes-sarcastic, and all-inclusively-entertaining journey.

It's bound to be a pun-tastic ride! :P