Melanie Monday: I Prefer Writing

"Speaking is always clumsy, while writing is always fluent."

If therapy can help someone, I would always prefer to speak with someone with the knowledge of thoughts. However, I prefer to write my thoughts, and this would just get us no where.

Writing your thoughts will always come out neat and perfect; you may erase or backspace, and any fumbling of your words can be fixed—just like that. Meanwhile, speech isn't so wonderfully done. The dialogue of any story can be messy, just the same way as speaking between yourself and a friend would sound. Your grammar is poor, your words can be miss placed, and sometimes, you might even use the wrong word at the wrong time.

This does not matter in general conversation. For one, conversations carry on in a way that allows the participants to know just what the other means, even when they cannot get the proper words out—or well, most of the time you should know what your speech partner is trying to say. It's all about the tone, the body language, and generally the way in which you speak.

In writing, since you can choose your words as you so wish to, the words will perfectly form into sentences, and eventually you can draft yourself a whole story. You know what you're trying to say, and you have the time to properly get it sorted out in your head before it all becomes the something you're trying to convey.

This is where writing to your therapist probably wouldn't work out.

Due to choosing your words carefully, the therapist can never work out what you're issues are since you're not really aware you're avoiding it. In speech, you can unconsciously give yourself away by your tone, stopping when you've reached something you didn't want to talk about, or generally the way you're face will scrunch up in discomfort or some other emotion that betrays you're inner feelings.

While I would love to continue my therapy sessions I had over this past semester of college through the summer, I know I cannot since the sessions would work better if I were face to face with my therapist. I love to write, and prefer it over face to face or phone conversations, I will never get anywhere talking to someone with carefully chosen word forms.

Sometimes I find that most of my problems in childhood (mostly from sixth grade on) stem from the fact that while I could talk to my friends just fine in instant messaging, I could not bring myself to speak aloud due to the fear of saying something that didn't make sense or generally embarrassing.

Writing what you mean is easy, but speaking the same way is hard...

FREEDOM (Susan's muse has returned)

It is the last week of finals and I am so excited.

Sure, I'm going to miss some of my classes and my professors, but I'll get over it. I'll probably see them again when the fall semester starts back up again anyway. This just means that, because I am not attending the spring/summer semester, I have more time to dedicate to my writing (and maybe photography. I've always wanted to do that). With almost a 90% guarantee, Strange Dreams might actually be released this year! It's been nearly two years since I started it, I believe, which is amazing for me because the-book-that-shall-not-be-named took me four years to write. I am beyond excited for all the things that are going right with my writing.
My muse has decided that she has more ideas than I can fit into a remainder of approximately 50 pages and has gratuitously graced me with ideas for a sequel! I can tell you that a war like you've never heard of is about to begin. Maya will definitely have to get her head out o the clouds. And can I interest you in a conflicting romance? A character "coming out" for the first time? Perhaps an angel taking a turn for the worst? My muse is throwing so many plot twists my way I have no idea what to do! (That's a good thing, though. At least she isn't holding out on me again.)

While the sun is finally making an appearance here in dreary old Michigan, I suppose I should get busy.

Oh! Before I forget, READ SOMETHING.

Tell me what you're reading, any recommendations and what I should read? I know you guys have opinions. VOICE THEM.

Okay. I'm done being bossy now. Go about your day.

Allons-Y!!

Really wishing a madman with a blue box would fall out of the sky already,
Susan.

Great News!

I've been talking to the cover artist for Strange Dreams for a couple months now. She's an amazing artist; her work ranges from fantastic Harry Potter fan art to exquisite fairy's and self-portraits. I simply will not regret choosing her to do the cover.
Earlier today I recieved an email from her. The email contained... can you guess? Do you know why I'm so super excited I've had to rewrite this paragraph three times because of the super-hyper typing errors?

SHE SENT THE PRELIMINARY SKETCHES!!

And they are B-E-A-UTIFUL. I cannot wait to see the finished product and to share it with you all. This is so exciting!!

Signed abibliophobic author with absolutely too much time on her overenergetic hands,
Susan. XD

P.s. Here's a link to her facebook page: Twirkle Art (facebook)
She is also on DeviantArt: Twirkle

Melanie Monday: Untitled

"Happiness comes when you least expect it, and goes when you begin to take it for granted."

I didn't have anything planned for this entry, I'm afraid. So for your entertainment, I give you the opening sequence to a fanfiction I'm writing based in an alternate universe to the television show Teen Wolf. You don't need to be a fan of the show to know what's going on, since I've basically taken someone else's characters and put them into my own little world (hence the term "fanfiction") and have added a few characters that are only mentioned in the show but never shown (either because they're not around or have passed) so they're really my own in a way.

If anyone happens to be interested in reading it in full (the first chapter is the only one completed), I'll let you know when I post it online somewhere!

Chief Nowak looks to the sky, watching the tones become darker as the sun goes down beyond the horizon. Nodding to himself, he glances back to his daughter and her husband, as well as Alpha Hale and his wife. With a smile, he moves to stand before his village and their guests.

“We are honored to have the Hale Pack join us on this night of the Wolf Moon,” he begins, the wrinkles in his face becoming much more prominent when he smiles. “Like every coming of Wolf Moon, we are grateful for the kindness of the Hale Pack and graciously welcome them into the village to celebrate another twelve moons of peace.”

While he continues on, John Stilinski spots something red in the distance near the edge of their village and sighs. Irena glances to him with a quirked brow, a smirk of amusement on her lips. “Stiles is going off into the trees again…”

She chuckles silently, turning her gaze to find where their son and his friend have disappeared beyond the tree line. “Let the two have their fun.”

John wishes to argue, but Chief Nowak had gained his attention once more. It was always hard to ignore a man of his charisma, especially since the man had given John the opportunity to even be with Irena.

Beacon Village is a small cluster of people when you really get down to it; very few people in town didn’t know your name, and even then those people were just too young or too old to really commit it to memory. However, they are the largest compared to their neighbors—the term ‘neighbor’ being used loosely, as the village is surrounded by forest on all sides with a cliff some ways off to the North-West. Though the entire population knew the only reason Beacon Village is home to many people was due to their agreement with the Hale Pack of Werewolves just West of them, beyond the trees.

Very few really remembered what the agreement was, even though Chief Nowak’s family had been on good terms with Alpha Hale’s for decades. Some assumed it was simply a land issue—Beacon Village being on the edge of Hale Territory—while some of the more wild theories believed it had something to do with sacrifices—which is just silly, since there were never any disappearances. No matter the idea, it really was a simple territory agreement; Hale Territory stretches through the forest and that of Beacon Village in exchange for protection from an Omega attack of any kind.

Which is why Beacon Village was so lucky to have a large number of residents; Omega attacks were fairly common in their regions these days, and very few humans could fight such a creature—even if it was just a measly Omega. With a Werewolf pack around, villages tended to survive longer, though the lone wolves still tried to breach into the village boundaries. Luckily for Beacon Village, the Hale Pack is also among the strongest packs in the region.

Most humans would never make an agreement such as this, however. Werewolves have the nasty reputation of being violent, ill-mannered beasts, and many of the humans feared them. The Hale Pack, of course, aren’t anything like these supposed ideals, and are quite the opposite of beastly, killing creatures. If anything, they are just as human as anyone else.

As it stands, there would be no reason for John to worry about the two boys running into the dark of the forest during a full moon—especially with the Hale Pack being so near.

Melanie Monday: Fiction

"It truly bothers Melanie Beth when one doesn't know the different between your and you're or their, they're, and there."

I almost didn't notice it was Monday!

Lucky news for me! My creative writing class is moving onto fiction this week! Everyone cheer!

*you all cheer*

Yes, it's a wondrous moment indeed. In any case, I'm fairly excited about it due to the fact I feel I'm better at fiction than poetry...

As such occasion, I'll share a small part of my story I intend to completely write one day known as The Imaginationist. However, this little scene might not make the cut... because it is silly and I wrote it in haste during the class while on break. It's also meant to be when Mari, the protagonist, lands herself into a strange world for the first time.

"Hello," Mari calls, looking about the cave. "Is anyone here?

She trips over a rock, a laugh coming from behind her. "Well, I most certainly didn't disappear!"

Twisting her body towards the entrance, she frowns. There appeared to be nothing but the orange and purple trees, all swaying in the breeze. Looking down, she finds a yellow duck sitting at the entrance, watching her intently. "Who was that?"

The duck answers, "obviously not the cat." To his left, a cat meows to Mari before darting off.

Mari pulls herself up, keeping her wide eyes on the duck. "You can talk?"

"Better than you can walk!" He chortles, standing as well before waddling off.

Figuring she'd seen weirder things since arriving in this strange world, Mari stumbles after him. "Please, can you tell me where I am?"

The duck clicks his tongue in annoyance. "In the presence of King Sam!"

Mari pauses, watching him waddle his way into an equally yellow pond she hadn't seen earlier. "You're a king?"

"Just as a songbird can sing."

"Well, my name is Mari—"

King Sam cuts her off with, "I'm terribly sorry."

She frowns, her eyebrows coming together as she stares at him. "You're sorry for what?"

"To have forgotten the nut."

Mari slumps her shoulders, his words turning this way and that in her mind. "Are you... rhyming with me?"

King Sam quacks indignantly. "As well as you or I can see!" He begins to turn away once more, leaving Mari unsure of just where she was.

"Wait, please!" She calls out.

He answers, "ask the bees!"

"But—"

"I wish for a door to shut!"

Mari scowls at his retreating form. "I'd like to stop rhyming now!"

"Well, don't have a cow!"

She screams in frustration, birds flying away to the green sky. "You suck!"

"I'm nothing but a duck!"

Well, he had her there. Before she could think to call out again, King Sam had swam away.

Melanie Monday: Oops

"Sometimes, you just have to eat the apple pie whole..." 

Sorry I missed Monday last week! I was kind of busy being on break...

To make up for it, here's my prose poem for you all! I have no idea if it's good though, so sorry if it sucks!

They’re There

It’s the green eyes you love, the rarity in them, and the red to complement upon the hair—so bright and natural—with rose hued cheeks and a smile that could light up your world. That’s what you look for, but never what you’d find. It’s so rare, had never seen in your life; not really, not truly.

Then the day comes—they’re there, across the street. Pout on their lips and darkness in their brown eyes. They’re there, the brown hair matted by the wind and tan skin turning red in the cold nipping at their face. You’d never really look at someone like them, not once, not ever. It was always green eyes, red hair, rosey cheeks, and bright smiles.

But they came to you. They needed you, and just once, you let yourself do what you’ve always wanted.

You let this person, the opposite of what you looked for, into your life. Suddenly, you realized you’d never thought of this part. The part that counted. The part you should have been searching for all along.

The laughter. The happiness in those eyes, never mind the color. The feeling of being close to someone; physically, emotionally, mentally. Sharing your dreams and demons, learning you’re not alone on this dark road. Being with someone so completely, who cares enough to look past your faults, to see your ‘ugliness’ you’ve fought against to be beautiful.

They’re there, suddenly there and willing to love you so completely. They’re there, all bright eyes and hidden grins. They’re there, smart one second and ditzy the next. They’re there, laughing and bright just before tears are spilling and they’re just as broken as you. They’re there, trusting you to fix them, willing to do the same in return. They’re there, so in love, so with you.

The physicality never mattered and yet you’d never noticed. You were always looking the wrong way for the right person, and here they stand.

Beside you, with you. Here they are, and forever will be, with you.

Just Another Day In A Non-existent Paradise

I've not been up to much lately. Just hanging out over my early Spring Break... hating the weather as always. (Who likes SNOW on their Spring Break? What school schedules Spring Break at the end of February?) Just gotta love Michigan...

Anyway... Whilst sitting here discussing Space-Time Continuums and Chameleon Circuits with my sister, an old and very dear, much missed friend started singing to me in that lusciously beautiful voice of his. He sounds like an angel, he's funny, and he is incredibly handsome.

Who is this marvelous creature, you ask?

Darren Criss!

Isn't he gorgeous? If you don't know Darren, or have had the monstrous misfortune of being introduced to him through Glee, you must absolutely go to that wonderful distraction us humans hate so much (YouTube) and check out A Very Potter Musical! And after you watch that, check out A Very Potter Sequel!

The cast is amazingly talented and both shows are insanely hilarious. And if you love (or even if you just like them a little bit) check out Starkid Productions' YouTube channel; Click here for awesomeness!

Well, that is the end of my strange, unorganized, and uncouth post.

To those that are just now beginning their Spring Break, have fun and be safe.

To those that are in Michigan, like me, and are just hitting the butt-end of the typical winter weather, I apologize for Mother Nature's lack of sympathy for bored college students.

That is all.

Captain Jack Harkness.... OUT.