Another Tribute

I was legitimately kidnapped two days ago, right before dinner.

That specific evening, I was expecting to babysit my cousins, so when I opened the front door, assuming that there was just a package, and there was this vision of loveliness standing there instead, saying that she would whisk me away from my future fate of diaper-changing and drool-wiping business, I just had to hug her with a stupid smile on my face and I did and we laughed and then she cracked up at my face of surprise while I blushed, embarrassed, and then we walked down to the car as I slowly began to assimilate what happened and laughed my head off at my kidnapping because apparently my two captors had called my mom and my mom cancelled my babysitting appointment and WAS IN ON IT.

MY MOM...

I...just...

THE LEVEL OF PRONESS...

...guys...

I had no idea my mom was this evil or this awesome.

I'm still geeking out about it.

Anyway, my kidnappers didn't explain anything to me, but they made me do weird things like put on kohl (which, seriously, thank goodness for the 5th of June, when another friend of mine taught me to put on makeup for the first time in my life...so...I didn't actually have to ask how to put the kohl on...  /)u(\  ...yeah, I'm that dorky, guys) and tattoo myself with Sharpie.  Then, disregarding my pleas for financial freedom, they took me to dinner and didn't allow me to pay, and, when we were done stuffing our faces, they dragged me all around town, blasting Coldplay and Lenka and Muse from the windows of our ride and using my information brokering skills to help them achieve some photographs that they needed.  After that, they forced raw vegan carrot cake and coconut milk ice cream down my throat, and then they made me Moroccan Mint tea while I took one of those personality tests three times in a row because my captors didn't believe that my inner personality is what it is.

...in other words, I'm feeling overwhelmingly loved, an odd experience for me, who has been forced for most of her life to beat down her internal affections and to decline expressions of love.

My kidnappers are two amazing girls, the illustrious Queen (aka. Annakate) and her evil-genius sister (aka. Lauren).  Those soul-twins are my indie-pop mentors, my fashion angels to whom I gaze at in wonder of their beauty, and my soul's frequent encouragement, so their kidnapping of me was probably the best thing that happened to me all month.

...fortunately, this kidnapping business reminded me that I FORGOT A TRIBUTE - and one of the most important tributes at that:

ANNAKATE.

...Annakate...

...

((Aghhhhhhhhhh, what am I supposed to say here?  Emotions into words, emotions into words, Clove, it's not that hard.))

...

*several hours of thought organization later*

Well, I'll start out this tribute by saying that Annakate reminds me of an angel.  She has golden brown hair and the sort of surreal smile that would make criminals break down in repentance and beg for childhood, home-cooked meals, and mercy in their lives again.  Plus, her fashion sense, her eloquence, her photography skills are all other-wordly in nature, by which I mean, everything that she does just seems too full of beauty to be manmade.  If that's not getting the imaginative juices running, just know that everything about Annabeth Chase minus the grey eyes (replace them with brown eyes) applies to Annakate, who, ironically, is going to marry Percy Jackson someday.
...so got the mental image?
I think, though, that my greatest struggle in writing this tribute to Annakate lies in the fact that I haven't honestly known her for very long at all; she went on a missions trip with all of the graduates listed here while I was left at home, too young to go...and, then, somehow, this angel began to flit in and out of my life in short, dreamlike moments.
I don't remember having that "hi-my-name-is-Clove-what's-yours" moment (though maybe she does...?); I don't remember the first time I was introduced to Annakate's now-inoperative blog, which I had stalked relentlessly while it was in existence; I just remember being included into this wonderful young adult's world after some indeterminable point in time.
Even though we live far, far away and even though there are long months between face-to-face interaction, every time I meet up with Annakate, she blesses me with her outrageous love of God that exhibits itself in every aspect of her conversation and life, her empathy, and her honest humility.  I mean, I'm three years younger than her, and yet Annakate doesn't belittle me or drag me over the coals for my lack of still-developing maturity.
That sort of confidence and love has worked wonders on me, and, thank goodness, Annakate is moving closer now for college, so YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE, and YOU MUST NOT GO FAR AWAY, GOT IT?

Write on!
Clove

#7, written 5/30/2014 - Dread remains

WARNING!

This blog post contains vital information for those of you who are my followers, editors, fans, and readers of my current story, etc, SO PAY ATTENTION or you might miss...uh...vital...information...

...

I'm redundant, and this is unnecessary.

Ah, whatever, just keep reading.

~ ~ ~

Neck deep in covers, she woke up in a spartan room on a firm, stretching bed to the ominous drum of thunder, loud and chilling.  Rain pelted the windows, and she snuggled deeper into the warmth of her blankets, turning over to face her brother who was already awake and working on his computer.  Sensing her consciousness, however, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her.  She smiled weakly back and closed her eyes to the sight of his cheer.

A few moments passed, and then his familiar hand - encompassing, protective, and strong...but gentle - reached out for her arm like it always had in moments of peace and stress alike.  How many different meanings had that motion taken?

Stay calm, sister...you don't need to fight this battle.  I will take it from here.

Don't move, sister!  You'll get hurt if you move.  I'll clear the danger first.

I love you, sister...please love me back...



I hated touch before I realized that my brother communicated affection by it.  Now, I don't know what I'll do without his fingers around mine.

~ ~ ~

Waaah, I'm still sad that the graduates are leaving, and I'm also sad because I believe I've virtually exhausted every method of describing pain over loneliness in the last four or so months, so now I can't even write anything original to voice my mood.  (╯︵╰,)  Myeh...oh, well, have this true-to-an-author's-life picture to brighten up the mood:

Yep.  EVERY PERSON EVER IN ANY STORY I LIKE OR HAVE WRITTEN.

~ ~ ~

Well, thus ends my vacation blogging series!  I hope you enjoyed the series as greatly as I hated the commitment to write it...yeah...it was that bad...and it'll probably never happen again, except that I like spontaneity, and I am leaving on another vacation next Thursday on the 19th for four days...so DON'T EXPECT AAANYTHING.

In the future, expect (what?!  I just said I liked spontaneity):

1.) No more blog posts until July because I'm still recovering for the torture of writing seven consecutive daily blog posts.

2.) Me to lie.

3.) Lots more blogging to come in the next month.  I think I might write four consecutive daily blog posts during my next vacation, so be prepared if I do that, and, also, NOTA BENE, NOTA BENE, NOTA BENE that, basically, my dad and I decided that I needed to make a ginormous edit into my story, reshaping my main characters a good deal, so on July 1 (I just set that deadline without checking to see if I'm going to be busy that day...oh well...just give or take a few days...or weeks...or...months...), I'll be reposting the newer version of the story along with the next chapter!

*happy dance*

...

Yeah...I know...it only took, like, six months...literally.  XD

Anyway, fun stuffs ahead of us.  Be prepared, and, as always...

Write on!

Clove

Favorite part of day 7 on vacation: ...so...these people at a fudge store were putting on a SHOW while they made fudge...I mean, literally...they had a show: singing, clapping, jokes, the whole deal, and I have to admit that it was pretty decent too.  They got some legitimate laughs out of me, AND we got to sample their fudge, which was heavenly.  Worst part of day 7 on vacation: ...well, it was the last day of vacation, which meant going home to...  *dilated eyes*  *arising panic*  *shrieks of terror*  SAT STUDIESSSSS!!!

#6, written 5/29/2014 - A Poem - Believe Me, Myself, and I

Introducing Doctor Jekyll.

She who is the laughing rebel

lies within me like a devil,

onward beats me, though I tremble.

Individuality claim.

Authoritative pleading shame.

Friend's loyalty, foe's despise gain.

Enter risk, pride, fame and pain.

If she falls, though, if she shy,

now introducing she named Hyde,

the beast in me who begs to die,

who drags me, helpless, from the sky...

PLEASE don't leave me here with her.

PLEASE don't let her blur what's sure.

I WANT to recall our old love lost.

I WANT forgiveness at no cost.

For, honestly, behind the scenes

...is just a girl...

...caught in between...

The Theater life's a taxing thief,

which gives to rob and grins in grief.

Does one exist here who can fight

past make-up, acting, and my lies?

Jekyll shrieks

Hyde, she moans

Girl between...

...do you know?

What are you?

good or bad

light or dark

glad or mad

Sanity

slips away.

Pick a "me" or choose to fade.

~ ~ ~

A multi-personality disorder is just another name for continuos inner struggle.  Bipolar disease is just another name for two conflicting desires.  I think it's absurd for people to demand that we constantly be of one mind...

Write on!

Clove
Favorite part of day 6 on vacation: meeting up with my online bestie again for what would be the second time in our livesss.  (We've kept up contact since 7th grade, and our moms are trying to send us to the same college together.  XD  She and I are empathetically linked.  True story.)  Worst part of day 6 on vacation: saying goodbye to my online bestie and realizing that my online bestie's mom's bestie's eldest son vehemently hates anime...how can it be?!  XD

#5, written 5/28/2014 - School and Writing

I'm a terrible liar.

I said I'd post all seven vacation posts consecutively, and I didn't.

Instead, my metronome broke, I decided to film a MV for a cover that I did for this song, I've been working hours on SAT studies (DIE, FUNCTIONS), I've been devouring "The Enemy Within" (which officially became my favorite book aside from the Bible), composing more music, and trying to organize my social life (fail).

Ahhh, basically, life has thrown me a few curveballs recently, and my real life required more focus than this corner of the internet world.  Prioritization, I know; drives me crazy too.

Anyway, I'm back, and I'll try to wrap this short series up in the next two days.

~ ~ ~

"Why do I have to learn math if I want to be an author?"

Yep.  We've all heard that question, if not asked it ourselves.  To be truthful, even I, nerdy, studious, Asian me, have asked the question because - let's face it - I do NOT need to know that negative to plus or minus the square root of b squared minus four times a times c over a times two equals zero to know how to say, "Heart exploding in her chest at every weak footstep, she pelted down the dark street, sweat-matted hair flying behind her within grasp of the man-eating mathbook."

Well, allow me, nerdy, studious, Asian me, to attempt to convince you otherwise.  Here are a lit of school subjects and why you should invest in them in order to aid your writing skills.

#1.) MATH - Math is logic, especially when it comes to Geometry proofs...so...if you haven't taken Geometry yet, they'll say such-and-such at the beginning and such-and-such at the end, then ask you to figure out what such-and-such is in the middle.

Hm.

Even if you haven't taken Geometry, does this sort of mental work sound familiar?

It does to me, particularly at those moments where I know how to begin a story, end the same story, but have no idea what to put IN the story.

Word problems aren't very different; they give you a scenario (about the idiot who buys 64 watermelons and then 27 more) and ask you to put it into numbers.  In the story-world, we have feelings (from the idiot who likes one guy and then likes one more) that we must put into words.  So, really, practicing word problems in math fine-tunes other communication and translation skills for writing.

Also, let us not forget that, in writing, arguments ought to be made to convey emotion or express opinions.  How could you make a logically sound argument if you've not learned to THINK by math?

#2.) SCIENCE - Raise your hand if you ever wrote a story about a hero who could fire an arrow to ridiculously distant targets, then realized that something called "air friction" and "gravity" prohibit such deeds later on in life.  Raise your hand if you ever thought a poultice (whatever that is) could heal everything like Tylenol.  Raise your hand if your written storms didn't cause mud, if your written sun didn't cause sweat, or if your written snow didn't cause frostbite...

...jah...

Enter science the breaker of all setting and mechanic plot holes and maker of true-to-life writing.

#3.) LANGUAGE - I'm sorely tempted to give in on this point.  I hate...hate...HAAATE LANGUAGE STUDIES with a passion.  (If you had asked me before finals week last school year, I would've confessed my unfailing love for Latin...but then I got a 72 on my final and barely scraped by with a salvaged 4.0 GPA.  >_<)  Unfortunately, I'm trying to make an argument here, so I'll just go with the obvious points:

Language studies will help you grammatically and technically.  Didn't know what a deponent verb was or how to use on in your writing?  Now you do~

...along with the Ablative of Accompaniment, of Manner, of Means, of Separation, of Place From Which, of Place Where, of Respect, of Partitive, of Price, of Time When, of Time Which, of Agent, etc. etc. etc.

#4.) HISTORY - Whaaa--?!  Can anyone seriously debate this point?  Ah, well, I'll cover it for the uneducated losers out there.  (Surprise, surprise, history is my second favorite class aside from literature/composition.)

     You read classic novels = You gain understanding of past culture and current culture.  You find general outlines of past world changing events so you know what to include in your own books (that should also be geared towards changing the world, yes?).  You discover a bottomless pit of eloquent sources to imitate.

     You study geography = You gain understanding of setting.  No more unrealistic guesses as to what Pakistan might be like; now you know.

     You learn about significant dead people = You gain inspiration for characters.  (For example, take Brion from Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of Britain.  Brion's king wanted venison and told Brion to hunt for some, but he couldn't find any.  Fearing his lord's disdain, he cut out a piece of his own thigh, cooked it, and gave it to the king who said it was the sweetest meat he had ever tasted.  True story.  Maybe.)  Also, talk about inspiration for names.  You'll never have to look at baby naming sites again.

     You nail down those annoying dates = You gain an understanding of how long things - wars, feasts, and changes - really take.

~ ~ ~

I hope that that got you at least a little pumped up for your education...?  Maybe you're too desensitized with summer, though, you swimming, texting, lemonade-drinking zombie.  (=.=  Asians get no summer break.  *pouts*)  Ah, well, think about it when school comes up in a few months.

Do you have any other school subjects that help you with your writing life?  Tell me about it in the comment box below!

DOWN WITH COMMON COR--

I mean...

Write on!

Clove
Favorite part of day 5 on vacation: eating double dark chocolate ice cream.  Worst part of day 5 on vacation: getting sent out from the beach due to weather.

#4, written 5/27/2014 - You cannot unread the read~

Welcome back to the fourth post in my vacation series~!

Have you just eaten a big dinner?
Good.
I have too.
But what does a full stomach have to do with the price of tea in China?

*evil laugh*

...you'll have to wait and read...

So on the fourth day of vacation, I walked down a fishing pier with my family.  You know, being Korean, the smell of fish and fish themselves have been wired as "homey" and "delicious" in my blood and brain.  I mean, one of the main Korean exports is fish; all Korean markets have rows of fresh fish and bins of live crabs and tanks of lobsters.  Consequently, I love seafood - raw, fried, baked, or grilled.

Period.

However, on that fourth day, I saw something...fishy [enter CSI Miami intro scream] on that pier that made my stomach flip.  If I could've gotten a picture of it, I would've posted the picture (worth a 1000 words) and would've been done with the ordeal.  Alas, (lucky you), I didn't, so...to make up for this massive misfortune, here are 168 words, describing the oh-so-picturesque scene:

~ ~ ~

Dramatized in grim evening light, dark yellowish-brown water, uncirculated in the bay, lapped up against the debris-defiled shore.  Out from the surface of the vile sea water jutted a boardwalk's pillars, thick wooden poles spiked with white crusty barnacles and colored a shocking lime hue due to algae.  After several moments, in which seagulls shrieked their strident, hysterical cries, silent wind rippled the water's surface, and the smell of salt and fish wafted in land.

That was when I saw it.

A meter from land, the mangled head of a massive fish, as ghostly and pale as a cadaver, was floating lifelessly on the top of the filthy water, its off-white spine arcing down to the ocean's floor.  Next to the horrible organism was its brother, another head of a fish, whose unblinking, bulging eyes were twisted back to glare at the tiny black minnows that gnawed viciously and greedily on its bones.

Another warm breeze stirred up the predators, and old, rotten blood clouded the sea.

~ ~ ~

Muahahaha, yay, now have your dinner back and, as always~

Write on!

Clove

P.S. Favorite part of day 4 on vacation: meeting this older couple (the husband was a military man; the wife was a Korean woman) at the fishing pier and watching that loco Korean woman pull in, like, a fish every five minutes.  Worst part of day 4 on vacation: seeing what I described above.

#3, written 5/26/2014 - Mountains V.S. Beaches

The following post, third in my vacation series, is presented with just a tiny, eensy touch of bias...just a smidgen...not much at aaall……….

You can trust me.  x)

~ ~ ~

On a mountain near a gentle creek that flowed over slate-blue, sandy orange, and jet black pebbles, the young girl nestled in the jutting root of a tree, listening to the crisp, consistent lull of the fresh water's ripples.  In the shade of the shifting trees, she was cool and comfortable after her strenuous hike, and she paused to drink deeply from a canteen and take one last mental snapshot of the charming scene before moving on.  The air smelled deliciously fresh like the pine needles were breathing gently on her skin, and her footing was certain on the earthy path.  With the soft coo of birds, a hard wooden staff in her hands, and the smoggy, bustling world of men at her feet, the girl was alone with God and nature, her soul relaxed and at peace.

A dozen meters from an ocean that repeatedly churned an expanse of beige shells and sand, the flushing young girl quickly hopped from one foot to the next on the hot ground and ignored the blatant, interested glances thrown her way.  Even so far away, she could hear the interminable oscillations of the sea's deceptive rustling marked irregularly with a breaking crest.  Directly under the torturous sun, she felt laid-out and awkward as she moved towards the grand expanse of blueness, and she hastened to set up an umbrella and protect her body from the sky's accusing glare.  The air smelled like salt and suntan lotion, and, as she walked to the water's edge, her footing was unsure, her heels sinking deeply into the shifting earth.  With the blare of nearby pop music, cool water lapping at her bare knees, and the bright, touristy world at her back, pressing on her and urging her to do this, that, and NOW, the girl felt drowned in an idealistic program, her heart pulsing and wary in her exposure and tininess, contrasted against the dark cerulean waves.

~ ~ ~

Surprise, surprise.
I like the forest better than the sea.  ^_^  Ah, what can I say?  For nearly all of my life, I've lived with a forest several meters from my house.

Do you agree with me?  Disagree?  Write me a description paragraph as to why in the comment box below~!

Write on!
Clove
P.S. Favorite part of day 3 on vacation: waking up to my brother stroking my back...ah...he's the best.  x)  Worst part of day 3 on vacation: swimming 200 meters...without...stopping...  >_> Dad saw a sandbar far out in the ocean and wanted Joshua and I to swim to it in order that he might take a picture of us there, so we did...only to realize that we were unable to stand on said sandbar...so we swam aaall the way back.  Yeah.  x)

#2, written 5/25/2014 - Discovering Details

Hey all!  Welcome back~
I come bearing my second vacation post~

~ ~ ~

Well, one thing I noticed about authors is that they tend to steal good ideas from each other.  Many of us read acclaimed books with the sharp eyes of expert analysts, and many more of us seek to mimic eloquent writing - with good reason!  If you do such exercises, don't ever stop.  Many benefits will come from this sort of practice.

However, I suggest that you deviate from the stereotypical scenes - gang confrontations in a city at night, a spy aboard an enemy ship, or the romantic evening on the beach - with original ideas.  In other words, instead of gaining inspiration for your writing only from other pieces of writing written by other authors with "extraordinary" lives, pay more attention to your life, and let what you see become the basis for your writing.  As you do so, whether you think your life is boring or not, you might be surprised with the results.

Step 1.) Be suspicious of everything.  I tend to notice the most details when I'm wary of an attack, and I've learned that (thank you, military friends) looking for exits, counting heads, and watching for displays of aggression or suspicious persons really helps me to take in more than I would've if I were just walking through a grocery store, trying to buy milk and eggs.

Step 2.) Look up.  The most boring of buildings (aka. Walmart) tend to have the most interesting ceilings and skylights.  So far, I've never written a story that includes a battle up in the rungs and supports beams of a supermarket, but I'd still like to…so no one else steal my idea~  x)
Step 3.) Pretend that you are a main character.  Hold your head up when you walk, put away your cellphone, and meet the eyes of everyone you pass with a half-smile.  If you're at the library for school, find stacks of resources and delve into them with the determination of an expert informant or researcher.  If you're doing yard work, press hard enough to get yourself into a sweat or let out a crazy battle cry.  (Screw what your neighbors think.  The mortal foe, that dreaded and terrible dandelion root, must die.)  If you need to take a test, approach the exam with a proud readiness to present your skills, skills which you have accumulated over the year.  Best life and be prepared to see how inspirational your life is.
Step 4.) Carry a camera…everywhere…  Every so often, you'll find an awesome-looking stranger that would be absolutely inspiration for a character you have…aaand…  *click*  Pro tip: get a sibling to stand to the side of the person you want to take a picture of so as not to look stalkerish,  even though - let's face it - every author is.
Step 5.) Deal with paper cuts, bruises, skinned knees, etc. as if they were gunshots or knife-slashes.  Obviously, this goes several ways.  You could clutch a millimeter-long cut and scream the dead back to life, or you could get bloodied up pretty bad in a bike fall and neglect to care…at all.  Either way, you'll be inspired to treat the wounds of your characters with better life-accuracy reasonable tolerance.
Step 6.) Don't take physical contact for granted.  "Is there pain behind that weak hug or merely aversion to touch?"  "How on earth does he have such a strong handshake?"  "Why is she choosing to touch my shoulder now, even though I told her that I didn't care that I just failed my Latin test?"  Also, think about the sensation itself.  (Inner stalker emerging in three, two, one…)  Calloused hands, reddened knuckles, a sweaty grip, a tight build, an uninterested pat, or an "accidental" brush against a muscular shoulder can all awaken curiosity, disgust, admiration, and, most of all, inspiration in you.
Step 7.) Don't sleep for a night.  Just…try it (though, I only recommend that you do so once).  Something magical and lonely always happens on a sleepless night.  Always.  Pick a rainy night or a muggy one and open your bedroom window, or, if you'd rather be extreme, grab a glass o milk and a piece of toast and read and write all night by a fire.

Anyway.
If you don't happen to be an author and are reading this, yeah, we're a crazy bunch.
But you: authors.
Do these things, and I hope you'll find that you need not consult other authors (or…now that I think about it…ANY media source) to find drama.  Your life is adventurous enough; you only must discover how to see it as adventurous.
So.
Tell me.  Ever made a "dull" moment exciting?  The comment box is below!

~ ~ ~

Write on!
Clove
P.S. Favorite part of day 2 on vacation: trying to golf and failing (my ball went into the ocean).  :")  Worst part of day 2 on vacation: my mom dropped gummyworms in the sand~!  O.O  It was worse than the BP Oil Spill.  x)