Stream of Consciousness

.:: Part I : random excerpt T_T;; ::.

2004-11-04T13:13:00.001-08:00

"I would sooner shut myself away from these techno-utopian ecstasies than forget the reality of the situation. I agree that we live in a society too far concerned with its own image to the point where it begins to cover things up. Surely what is required from us is that we make all our sense as aware as possible, that we try to absorb the world in its fullness and entirety, rather than through fragments and pieces. Certainly to exist properly we must make sure every element of a particular thing is in harmony with the other elements, which make up that existence. We can not dismiss something on the grounds of intellectual unimportance, as everything dedicates itself to the whole in the end by necessity; that is, the universe is everything in existence, and rather than placing more importance on certain things over others, we should instead be examining those things in ourselves and others which we find to be imperfect, in hopes of focusing and improving upon those certain elements."

"You seem to be speaking of a greater harmony amongst all things. It seems, for you, from our discussion on just war, that you favor either anarchy and chaos or harmony, seeing very little in the way of a middle ground. I, on the other hand, believe that both complete anarchy and complete harmony are impossible. That we can only obtain and gain so much in one lifetime. That certain things will forever remain uncertain outside of myth and mystery to man, as that is the very nature of such propositions."

"An interesting theory, indeed. But how would you argue such a thing? How can you prove that there will always be unknown things if that proposition itself is unknown? I do not think such a thing can possibly be. Even were you to try and conclude that such a statement were truth and base it on the falsity that we know everything for certain, since we clearly do not, you could still not conclude that we can be certain that there will always be uncertainties. While you may negate a few elements or propositions which are clearly uncertain, you do not, on the other hand, negate those propositions which remain unthought-of of, unspoken, unsaid, or something along that line of suggestion."

“I think first we should define anarchism so that we may from there discover it’s nature and whether it is possible to have true anarchism.”

“Very well. First we must discuss what anarchism is not. It is not bombs, disorder, or chaos. It is not robbery, murder, or war of each against all. It is not animalistic, barbaric, or the wild state of man. Anarchism is the very opposite of such things. Anarchy by meaning of the word, is ‘absence of authority’. Anarchism represents a positive theory, rather than a negative one.”

“So then you would claim anarchy to be a political theory which is against all forms of government, and restraint of that order, but rather one which advocates equal cooperation?”

“It could be said to be a political theory that holds government authority to be unnecessary, undesirable, and weak, yes. It could also be said to advocate voluntary cooperation. But there are only weak, diluted definitions of anarchism. Anarchism isn’t a doctrine of sorts; it is more of a historical tendency, one of though and action, which has been a strand of human history for as long a time as there have been politics themselves. Throughout time anarchism seems to have been a series of movements, from what I can piece together of our strange and almost unreal history. Somewhere along the lines, anarchism also began to mean a theory opposing ownership of land and property, as well as one which opposes an authority or government. I would suggest that anarchism is a principle of theory of life and conduct by which society is contained within a notion which involves a lack of government or authority. Harmony would be obtained by free agreements concluded between groups, rather than by obedience to an authority figure or submission to a particular law. These territorial and professional agreements would be constituted only out of the basic needs of existence. In a society developed on these parameters, voluntary associations which already now begin to cover all fields of human activity would take a greater extension to substitute themselves for the state of its functions. Clearly without authority there could not be worse violence than that of authority under existing conditions.”

“Ara… I think I see the conclusion at which you mean to arrive at; that anarchism is to be free. The freeness that constitutes freedom itself is held within anarchism, tightly defined. Mistakes circulate around association of anarchism with violence or disorder, but that is not the case. Simply because there is not authority, political or otherwise, it does not mean that things will fall into a chaotic state.”

“Yes. In a world truly governed by anarchism, no one should be enslaved, robbed, or imposed upon. Everyone should be free to do whatever they please, and not be compelled to do what they would not want to do. The very notion that there is any association with bombs and wreaking violence and terror upon society and anarchism is a major fallacy. It is surely a misfortune that such a noble concept should be so quickly downtrodden, and by simple misuse and ignorance nonetheless.”

“And what was your point, which would be thereby proven in the situation that you could give evidence of what anarchism was and was not?”

“You claimed that I seemed to favour either ‘complete anarchy, and chaos, or harmony’, but that is not true, as I have just disputed.”

“Very well. I rescind my statement that you favour complete anarchy and chaos or harmony.”

“You retract the statement?”

“I do. I repeal that statement, and wish to put forth a new proposition. You seem to either favour complete chaos or harmony. But I do not think such things may exist.”

“

(http://flag.blackened.net/liberty/defanar.html)

.:: Part I : section 3 ::.

2004-11-02T17:51:00.000-08:00

"What do you mean? Wendy? What happened?" I looked at her sullen form. That face which was normally full of youth and vigor, or a funny, sarcastic energy was now covered in shadow. Her bright hair that burned a golden orange like the setting sun was sunken as though she were cursed or cast out of her father's house. The truth lay bundled up within her like a ball of red rags. The sacred radiance of the sun had been gone for a long time, and it seemed as though it might never return. What mystery did she hold so deep within her soul? She held secrets darker than the very night itself. And by the operations of the planets, from whom we do exist and cease to be, she seemed cursed. A shudder ran through my body at that moment, seeing my best friend so ashamed of herself. To my heart she was like a stranger now, or so she wanted to be. No longer was she my friend, but a sister among three sisters, a brother among three brothers. "Wendy,-"

"Peace, Kaylin. Come not between the dragon and his wrath. I shall tell you all. What you think it is, that is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all. How can I tell you of the dreams of madmen? Their marred bedsheets and the sprinkled streets? Even after all our sunsets and teacups, they are still mad. And are an easy tool for those that would make wrong-doing. Kaylin, you have no concept of what it is to be a woman. To be looked at, to be scorned, to be treated as an item of sex and nothing more. I may come off as sounding a bit obtuse, and I apologize ahead of time, but I must say what must be said, otherwise I mustn't say it at all. I have known the thousand shudders that may run through a body with pleasure... yet I wish never to know the thousand shudders that run through a body with pain. I have seen their eyes watching me in the evening when I am walking on the streets. Those eyes, those eyes that fix themselves upon you and stare and leer like there is no end to staring! I have envisioned them sprawled out against the wall, held down tightly, their bodies pierced, but to no good end! For still do they remain, leering, staring, watching... always watching and never looking away. Not even to blink. Not even to watch a man light up a cigarette nearby. They are always there, and you can never escape. I know, I may sound paranoid... but these are the fears that you can never know. It is a noble birthright to be born such as you have been. Often times we are murdered, slaughtered innocently at birth, our parents hoping that we will not suffer the ancient lives of our grandmothers before us. Do you know the agonizing loss that those mothers must have felt? And still, they put them down like Zosimus would savage their own kind for food. Do you know the heart-ache that accompanies the worries? The pain of staggering loss... knowing that you could be easily rejected and passed aside? That the person you want to give everything to, they might only want you for your body?

It is a sick and cruel world out there. An uncaring, harsh, cold world. And that is the sad reality of the situation. So often I have known women who are pushed aside or run out of their own house, and are forced to turn to disgusting self-abusive measures to set things right, or to pick up a buck. I have known women whose lives are static, their bodies moving in all sorts of directions, disconnected from their thoughts as they go mad... and still live on, to suffer pains and new paths of direction which they should be adominished from ever attempting to approach. No person should be used this way... no person... be they child, man, woman. Even the infirm and old are treated with more respect than this. Even the lowly textile worker, worth nothing more than the dirt on the ground is given a more honourable situation than this. They do an honest days work, and in return gain respect. This contrived violence must stop. It is no longer permissible. I see corruption in the streets, I smell the fear on people's breath. It is not right, I say! It is not right.

.:: Part I : section 3 ::.

2004-11-01T23:58:00.000-08:00

”Very well. Then let us move on. I believe another part of the jus ad bellum plays a significant role in judging whether war is or is not to be justified based on the desired end. If the desired end is unrealistically different in proportion than the attempts to reach it, certainly it is unjust. War requires a goal. As well, this would follow suit for defense or war waged against another group of people in return. For instance, it would be disproportional if when reclaiming land you took from me, that I would take extra land just because I could.”

”But from my perspective that doesn’t make sense. While I may not agree with it, it seems more logical that one group of people would take over all the land so that there would be no more conflict. If one group lets another group remain, then that group will rise up against the group that fought back… because they would be angry. Don’t you see? That’s how humanity works. We are vain and prideful.”

”Oh, Kaylin! As much as I’d love to sit around and discuss this in greater length, I have to get to work!” She said, as a frantic look washed over her pale face. She had finished her coffee, and was walking over to pick up her brown satchel. My eyes settled on the long-handled silver spoon which she had left lying on the table. It was dull in the warm light, but did not glint with life. It remained hard, concrete, and very solid indeed, I thought with a sigh. Looking up, I saw my orange-haired friend fidgeting with those trails of orange silk that streamed out like kites from her forehead.

”I’ll see you tonight when you wake up! Get a good rest, dear.” She smiled, as she walked to me, leaned forward, and kissed me briskly on the forehead. I heard the door swing open and closed a moment later. It was almost daytime, and I knew I would have to go to sleep quite soon, as I worked night-shifts. She and I had been living together for some time, for almost… what was it? Three years now? Yes. That seemed to be it. It had been a delightful three years. She could be a little narrow-minded sometimes, I knew, but for the most-part she was of good, solid character. Our perspectives on life differed quite drastically, but often that was part of the enjoyment we both gained from debating and discussing important issues. She, for one, was a subscriber to many myths, such as the Demeter myth, all the myths and folklore that accompanied the tales of the Seven Days, and she entertained all sorts of other ridiculous fantasies. But it was fine. She was for the most-part an airy girl, and I was glad to be her friend. She was also wise beyond her years, or so it seemed to me. Often I never knew if I was arguing with a middle class working youth, or a great scholar. She seemed exceptionally studied and learned in the classical myths, but they had never been of any particular interest to me. I based importance of information mostly on logical truth. I felt, sometimes, that her arguments were watered down by beliefs in things without evidence. Though, she was still often to argue surprisingly well, given her position.

”Good-bye Wendy.” I said softly, so softly that it was barely a whisper. My eyes were directed to the window. Now wonder the spoon had been so lackluster, there was not a single light in the sky. The gray world outside was overcast with clouds and powerful wind. She had forgotten the silver spoon with the long handle on the table. I reached across the table, running my fingers along the smooth metal surface. They reminded me of the biting winds when the days grew cold and bitter. When the wind blew in such powerful gusts that it bit and clawed at a person’s face like it was a creature, manifested by some peculiar, supernatural forces. I clutched the metal object, and drew it to my face for closer examination. Looking at the surface of the spoon, it caved in at the wider part intended for scooping. The effect of this caving in produced a warped mirror image of my face. I could see my features there, the sordid green eyes, the strawberry-blonde hair, those thick lashes that I had been cursed with… only each of my features was skewed this or that way as to produce the most peculiar effect. Perhaps we are not all really what we think we are. It seems it is just up to perception, the very way it is up to looking at a spoon as opposed to peering into a flat, reflective surface such as a mirror. Maybe there is more than way to everything, though we box ourselves in to approaching things in that manner alone. Surely if there was more than one right answer, then both Wendy and I could be correct about war, it only depended on our positions.

Fatigue seemed to hit me like a burdening beast, wearing me down, dragging me to the ground. I could barely climb out of my chair to place the spoon at the sink. As I moved from one to the other, I nearly tripped over the chair which I had intended to slide away from in one swift movement. With a heavy sigh, I lurched into the other room, hoping to drag my body into bed. It had been a long, tedious evening at work, and a slow one at that. As if that wasn’t tiring enough, debating with my companion afterward took a lot out of me. Now that I was both physically and mentally drained, I figured it was time to get some rest for the next morning.

I felt content as I slung myself onto the soft materials which cushioned my fall. After a few moments of getting comfortable, I could already feel my thoughts begin to fade from my head. They grew progressively slower, and I could feel my energy draining from my body. It was as though the busy activities from the day that had worked my body tired trickled down to my feet and ran down the side of the bed, and I fell into a gentle sleep.

- - -

It was six in the morning when I got off work. I left the small restaurant, hoping Wendy would be home so we could talk. As I walked home I could already feel the extent of my night’s worth of work getting to me. It wasn’t the most exciting job, to work the grave-yard shift in a dead-end restaurant. At least the pay was decent. I was certain if they paid any less I would have quit for sure. Since my shift was so late, usually from about midnight till six in the morning, I rarely had to worry about a lot of customers coming in. On the other hand, that made the job incredibly boring and lengthened the hours so that when six o’ clock rolled around I was often counting down the seconds until I could leave. Occasionally, if it was a really quiet night, the assistant manager would let me go early. She was the daughter of the owner of the restaurant, as it was pretty much a family-owned and operated business.

As I walked slowly down the overpass that lead to the place I called home, I reached a hand up to draw a single blonde bang from my face, where it had covered my right eye. The strands of hair stuck to my finger and face like fate, blown at me from every direction, seemingly inescapable. The sky was clouded over when I had woken up that late afternoon, and all day while I had worked. Even on my way home, just then, it was still overcast and cloudy. Only, now the clouds were ominously darker, and it looked as though it might rain. A low rumble sounded in the distance, and the over-pass was as gloomy as desolate as it was every early morning, when I got off of work.

The construct of the bridge-like structure was rather simplistic, but it came off quite eerily. It often seemed rather out of place in comparison to the road-ways below and around it, with long blocks of hard, rough pavement. The actual architecture of the overpass pretty much consisted of a slightly inclined path, built with reinforced sides of some kind of extremely glossy metal which I hadn’t the faintest clue as to the name of. Even when there was no light in the sky, the metal seemed to shimmer with a bizarre life of its own.

”Salutations. Well met, sir. Would you be intrigued to-“ The girl was a bit taller than five feet. She had brown hair longer than my own, tied back into two long curving tails. In summation, her hair hung down just above her waist. Her eyes were a dim and very dark ochre, almost black unless one looked more closely. I dismissed her with a wave of my hand.

”I’m sorry. I’m unlikely to buy whatever it be that you’re selling, ma’am.” I cut her off before she could give me some elaborate explanation of her product.

”No, no! I’m not trying to sell you anything!” This was followed by a short, quick laugh, “If you have a moment to spare, however, I would be extremely appreciative.” She smiled brightly. Her smile did not bode well with her surroundings. Everything was muted tones of gray, the sky emitted almost no light, and the world seemed dead still.

”Very well.” I said solemnly. I figured I could give this peculiar female a moment of my time. I found her clothing to be a little peculiar for a girl. She wore a very professional outfit, that resembled some strange kind of old black button-up over-shirt. Underneath it was what looked like a white dress shirt with large, ruffled edges. Her shoes were very proper and masculine.

”I work for an organization called the Hideaki Seishin.”

”Hideaki Seishin? I thought they were just a popular rumor.” I stared at her, inquisitively. I think by that point she realized she had caught my interest.

”You were mistaken, then.” She smiled brightly, catching me off-guard again, “As you may or may not know, we try to promote peace through powerful political figures and other various parts of society. You probably are familiar with many of the candidates which we have supported in the past. As you may know, crime rate in this vicinity, as well as all over, seems to be on the rise. Murder, assault, theft, break ins, and various other nefarious and unsightly deeds are committed day after day. The Kempeitai can only do so much, and it is not really up to them to govern the middle class. They mostly work at the borders and various check-points to ensure protection of all the classes. Their responsibility is mostly among the Zosimus, who are dangerous to both themselves and us. They haven’t the manpower or the time to ensure our safety from our own kind. Surely we are intelligent enough beings to be capable of harmony. These problems that appear to be culminating- they have gone on since the Seven Days of Inferno, but for some reason unknown to us, are even more on the rise now. One may dismiss it as ebb and flow of the tide, but I believe our future is not to be so easily dismissed. I think we should seriously consider all the implications. If we want to keep things under control and maintain order, we should look to ourselves only as mediators. There is no one else to do it for us.”

”I agree that we need peace… I can not remember a time when there was true ‘order’ around here. Perhaps we have all become so accustomed to disorder that it seems o.k., but now that things are getting out of hand awareness will spread. I agree with a great deal of many of your points, but let me ask you, why should an organization promoting peace choose to remain so hidden in the shadows for such a long time?” I still had more questions yet to ask, but I decided to ask one thing at a time, and see how she replied. I was surprised at the immediate, but well thought-out response she gave.

”If people found out that so many of their political leaders were really so powerless… so powerless that they needed to turn to the support of underground groups- I think they should loose all creditability and support from the masses. Do you have any idea what it would mean if there were no politicians? Any hope at resorting order to these lands would fail! I can not let that happen! I can not let the Seven Days War occur again! Those last seven days from which it gets its namesake were only the most gruesome and cruel. It isn’t common knowledge, but that war was one which was waged for almost a hundred years!”

”What?” I gasped. I was drawn back completely. I thought that the death of countless people had occurred over no more than a week. What a fool I had been. I began to judge whether her statement seemed legible or not. But it did. In fact, it made more sense than what I had been told previously. Everything was beginning to fit now.

”The facts are often skewed, and the tale of the Seven Days of Inferno is so often told and repeated that it has become no more than a reminder of the war itself. Few people really know the truth… that the war last for years on end. That men were slaughtered day after day after day. It is a secret long since lost, because it was too gruesome for people to know, despite the depictions of the Seven Days of Inferno itself. Our organization exists in the hopes to prevent such a violent massacre from ever occurring again.”

”So then that is why the Seizonsha are so radically different from us. Years of living apart… for all we know, the ancestors of the uppermost class could have been of a completely different origin than the Seizonsha!” I was shocked at the revelations I had so unwittingly stumbled upon.

”But why are you here at so early a time in the morning? No one is around… you knew I was going to be here, didn’t you? You knew… how did you know?” I took a slow step backward, cautiously. I slowly raised my shaking hands defensively. Shaking? They were shaking, indeed. Tremors of emotion ran through my body. What was this feeling? This unsteadiness? That all that I thought I had relied on, everything which I thought I had known, it was not nearly all of the truth. I had been lied to repeatedly by omission. Could this be? Could this secret wealth of information be true? How could a system cover it up so well? Or perhaps, perhaps it was like she said… a truth too horrible for anyone to want to know… so they just forgot. What fragile notions I had – that they could be shattered in such a short crack – and by a plain girl wearing a peculiar outfit, nonetheless.

”I must admit, I did. I am hired as both a data collector and a recruiter. I have heard of your public debates… I find them most interesting. I think it would be a great benefit for both you and Hideaki Seishin Corp. if you were to join forces. We would profit greatly from your skills, and perhaps in exchange you would learn a few things… about what you thought you knew.” Her eyes, now a deep velvet brown seemed to shimmer with their own mind as she spoke.

”I… I request a period of time to think this over, if that is acceptable.” I managed to stutter out.

”Very well. But remember… Times wingèd chariot is ever hurrying near, and before us lies deserts of vast eternity; the higher that chariot gets, the sooner its race will be run, and the nearer the sun is to setting. Though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet we will make him run.” She spoke quietly, and with that she whisked past me, the breeze from her sudden movement blowing my hair in my face. She was gone in an instant, and I couldn’t find it in myself to look back. That would ruin the mystery of the entire thing. Besides, I think I was still trying to get over the shock. With so many thoughts running through my head, I knew I had to talk to someone… and I knew exactly who that ‘someone’ was.

”Wendy!” I managed to burst out, as I went running like a bat out of hell, hoping to get home as fast as I possibly could, pleading that she would be awake already. Usually my redheaded friend was awake before the crack of dawn, but there was the occasion when she was given a later work shift, or when she just happened to sleep in, if the day before was long and arduous.

I don’t think I had ever run home that quickly before. What I like to think of as my calm, average, mild self (though slightly argumentative at times) was completely disjointed. I didn’t know what to do with this new information, and I felt like a basin of water, spilling at the brim.

”Woah, slow down there, ‘Lin! What’s all the commotion about?” She was wearing her night-wear still, and rubbing one eye sleepily. She stretched her arms out fluidly, releasing a soft yawn that reminded me of a feline, “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack! Did something bad happen?” She inquired, suspiciously. As soon as she thought something might be wrong, she burst into alertness, inspecting my face to see if I was bruised or something.

”No! No. I’m… I’m fine. Just a little startled is all.”

”Well, Kaylin, why don’t you tell me what happened?”

”I wouldn’t even know where to begin! She was there, and then she said that the Seven Days War wasn’t and then…” I was just bursting with things from everywhere and I had no way to rationalize my thought process anymore. It was so strange, I had been so logical before this, but now my logic itself seemed shredded and torn to scraps of words.

”Calm down… Begin where everyone should begin; begin at the beginning.” She smiled softly, drawing me to the table where we normally chatted and ate for a few hours before she headed off to work. We both seated ourselves at the table, and she rested her hand on my own. It felt warm and soft to the touch.

”I got off work, just like every other day. I turned down Auld Reekie Lane, walked down Bonifatius St., crossed the road, walked to the overpass, and there was this girl there. She was just standing there as though she expected me.”

”Ooh! A girl! What did she look like?”

”Longish brown hair, dark brown eyes… she was wearing a really weird outfit, come to think of it. That’s all I can really remember.” I replied.

”Was she cute?” She leaned forward, and made a face at me. I know the blood rushed to my face and I was blushing a furious scarlet right then, “Fine then. Tell me what happened!” She said to me after a short, but awkward pause.

”She said she belonged to Hideaki Seishin.”

”See! I told you they weren’t just a rumour!”

”She told me that she was a recruitment staff for their organization. She claimed she had all this information about stuff… she claimed Hideaki Seishin support numerous political figures. She also said she wanted me to join…” I could feel the lump in my throat rising, my voice growing weaker and weaker.

”That’s great! This will be a great opportunity for you and-“ She saw my facial expression and stopped mid-sentence, “Well, you are going to join, right? How could you not!” She queried.

”I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe now. She told me the Seven Days War was really more like a period of almost a hundred years… and… and I don’t know what to believe anymore. I really just don’t. It’s so strange. That this should just come out of the blue. She said that the crime rate is getting worse and worse… I don’t know that I agree though.”

”I do.” She looked down, coldly.

.:: Part I : section 2 ::.

2004-11-01T19:09:00.000-08:00

”Very well. I still do not think that one should just go with the first possibility they are given. They should judge the possibility by it’s likelihood…”

”Enough of that. Whether there was or wasn’t a war, let us return to the real question at hand. What is just war, and what is just cause.”

”Personally I am skeptical that morality can or should exist in times of war. If victory is sought, should not those in power seek all means possible of winning? But that is just a side-point. How may morality exist in war- during a time and place where men freely slaughter their common men? How know you not that justice can only occur during a time of peace? In that way, there are particular laws and regulations which one is to follow. Do not all the modern technologies advance warfare so greatly that it’s intrinsic nature is drastically altered anyhow?”

”Well, perhaps rules should exist during war that exclude certain spheres of life. Perhaps these gray areas should never be attacked, like places of healing the wounded, etc.”

”That would seem a good idea, but I do not feel that modern warfare would allow for that.”

”True. I believe you are jumping between consequentialism and intrinsicism. Do you believe conditions may be set in war that allow for justice, or do you believe that there is no true ‘justice’ during times of warfare?”

”Personally, I believe in the latter, however, I feel it is only right for me to represent both sides of the coin so that you may pick up debate with at least a matching argument.”

”Very well then. If you an interested in discussing war’s intrinsically just nature, I shall endeavor to humour you. Can you claim that there is no just act in war? That self-sacrifice is unjust? That there are no fair judges during times of war?”

”Yes. I believe that the pure overwhelming power of the situation at hand is pure madness or rage, and not something that can be either justified, or judged. It would take a judge of super-human wit to make true decisions about war.”

”And is war so clean cut that men could only be justified in attacking permissible targets?”

”I admit, it is not.”

”Then there is a flaw in your logic! Logic, sir, is a fortress; no crack in a fortress may be too small.”

”Perhaps. Perhaps. Let me think of this one.”

”And while you do, let me continue. If we have no plausible framework with which to go by, how should we ever have any organization in war?”

”And organization in war is a better thing than a lack thereof? As far as I see it, the less organization the less killing, since war is organized murder.”

”No. I do not view it that way at all. The less organization, the more chaos. Chaos leads to mass killings, to confusion, to all kinds of horrors. And war that never ends until every last participant dies gruesomely.”

”Well, let us address principles of justice of war to begin with. I do not admit that there is any such thing as this ‘justice of war’ we speak of, but let us at least examine the main principles and see if they seem logical or not and likely or not.”

”Very well. Let us first address which person may have just cause to go into war.”

”And by ‘just cause’ let me take it to mean ‘an excuse, in this case whereby man may go into war.’”

”Duely noted. And let ‘just cause’ mean ‘during war, any logical defense of certain acts that would be considered crimes during times of peace’. Now, I believe that initiating acts of terror, violence, and aggression is unjust unless it is to solve a greater good.”

”I believe initiating acts of aggression are always unjust. For if there were no initiating acts, surely there would be no war.”

”I do not think it is quite that simple. Regardless of that, I also believe that acts of self-defense are justified.”

”Here, as well, I disagree.”

”You would prefer peoples on mass surrender?”

”It’s likely to happen anyhow, if it occurs without the bloodshed, then even better.”

”Your theories and logic support a brutal government that could practically enslave the people below!”

”Look at the Seizonsha! You claim a Seven Days of Inferno existed! That was the most bloody war of all history as we know it! Now, almost two hundred and sixty years later we still remember it for that very reason! They have been enslaved! That is the only thing you may call it! And yet you cling to this idea that war settles disputes? No. I do not think that is just. I do not think that is a fair or accurate depiction of the truth at all. How can you be so callous? War is clearly not just means for settling disputes, disputes will always occur. You think man learns from his mistakes? He does not! History reoccurs due to man’s ignorance!”

”The Seven Days of Inferno is almost forgotten, so that it creeps closer day by day to becoming no more than myth! How dare you dismiss one myth, yet openly accept another!”

”I did not say I accept all of the myth of the Seven Days, I was using something you believe in to argue against you.”

”Perhaps, but you do accept some of it, Kaylin.”

”Only the bare bones, the structure. But that matters not. My reasoning is not due to local culture’s beliefs. My reasoning is based on what the evidence supports. You know that they have traced certain blood lines back to the point where the Seven Days of Inferno seem only logical.”

”Perhaps, but I feel that once again we have side-tracked. Let us return to our argument, which was of just cause for war.”

”Right. And I should like to address which authority is to be considered. In times of peace the laws administered to the people are created by the government. A system of ‘guardians of the law’ or enforcement is set up to catch those who break said laws. Those who offend the law are punished. During times of war I cannot see how this may be. For where is a purely neutral power, strong enough to gain strength above both entities that participate in this war? Where is there a neutral power that has no preference to either side? Is not everything political? Where is the power that will ensure the neutral power remains neutral? And furthermore, where is there a powerful group that could administer punishment upon those who break the violations?”

”Well, Kaylin, perhaps the violations and neutral group could be agreed upon by both groups before entering conflict.”

”You think war works that way? You think that people can just put down their spears and shields, discard their swords and weapons of battle, discard their pride? No. No group would stand for such a thing. Too many times I think men must have been to war without even telling their enemy in advance. Raids, pillages, all sorts of inflicted chaos occurs. War is chaos. I stand firmly by that. There is no other possible explanation for how man may break so sacred and unspoken rule that is the taking of another man’s life.” A determined feel spread through my body right then. I couldn’t describe it, but it was incredible.

”Hahaha. You but a fool in the eyes of men. You know so little, but profess to know so much. What evidence do you base your facts on? When was there a war in your lifetime? Think you that war is only chaos? Then might you say by the same nature that murder is chaos during civilized times? An act of madness surely accounts for chaos. How may some be free of dousing their hands in blood while others are not? Have you not thought that oftentimes men set these rules because they did not like to kill each other, but that it may be necessary? That we are no more cultured than mere beasts.”

”I tend to disagree on that point again.”

”It is the false illusion of culture that we stand by.”

”And yet you follow it. A good example you are.”

”I follow what I deem necessary to my existence only. Once again we go off on a side-point that is less than important. Let us return to the topic of justice in war.”

”I do not see how we can continue to have this debate. I think I have firmly stated evidence that ‘justice in war’ simply does not exist.”

”I do not feel you have given enough evidence for this. Please continue.”

”As far as I see it, times of non-chaos retain authority. Peace only works under authority, where rules are strictly abided by. Authority, law, and prescribing to that law are all necessary elements in the equation for peace. If any of these things are missing or out of order, then chaos breaks out.”

”So you admit that war is not the only form of chaos! Say, a corrupt authority figure governs over an area. Do you not believe that to be chaos?”

”In some cases. It depends on the lack of control, and how much the authority figure acts on their corrupt nature. Even if they are committing bad actions in their own lives, it does not affect their people at all times. Possibly the people are still able to live in fair amounts of peace, without much rebellion, as they are submissive to their leader.”

”But is not justice what is fair?”

”What is fair and what is not fair are matters such as to be decided by the law.”

”And if the law said it was fair to kill people it would be? Is that not the same as war?”

”As I said, I believe the act of deciding not to kill is an unspoken, intrinsic thing in mankind. We wish not to be killed, in return we kill not. Surely this ensures our safety. The only exceptions to this rule are those that deviate from the original proposition that we wish not to be killed. If someone has little or no value on their life, or holds a cause above their own heads, then they may freely execute others. Perhaps the role of the authority figure and society is to ensure that men value their lives so that they do not act on the previously mentioned notion.”

”Man is filled with greed. You think that if one man thought he could get away with killing someone in a better position so that first man could take whatever he wished from the other man who had an excess of things, that this highly doubtful, so-called yet unproven ‘intrinsic nature held within man’?”

”Let me rephrase my answer so that you may better understand it. Pick someone you hate more than anyone in the world. Could you kill them?” I looked at her meaningfully. She paused, running a hand through the back of her soft orange-red hair.

”No. I suppose… I suppose you are right.” She faltered.

”Very well, then you agree that this intrinsic rule is so deeply ingrained in our very beings that it is to go against one’s own self and nature to deviate?”

”I suppose I must forfeit any argument against by rule of logic. I have no counter-argument to that point. But what does that provide you in means of justifying your argument that there is no justice during times of war?”

”It clearly shows that war is unnatural, since man deviates from his nature of non-killing. This means that there is more support for my claim that war is chaos while non-war is not. It is not that the authority figure necessarily imposes non-killing on his people, though that is often additional motivation. Man is more use to each other alive rather than dead. Instead, it is the wise figure of authority who works with man’s nature rather than against the tide, who is successful in the end. What I mean by all this is that a leader does not inflict peace, he merely maintains it and sets about laws that continue to enforce this maintenance. Chaos occurs from fear, when stability is not maintained, when irrational worry and loathing overtake the nature of non-killing.”

”I see. Then you do not agree that war may be justified since it goes against human nature? But I see a flaw in all this. You say worry and fear are also of mankind’s nature. You did not agree with me earlier when I said man is, by nature, irrational. Assuming you take the opposite view, that man is, or it is possible that man may be rational by nature, then you should agree that this ‘irrational worry’ deviates from man’s nature. Yet you claim fear is man’s nature, with which I agree. However, I state men to be irrational by logic, therefore I am supported and you are not. Your statement seems contradictory.”

”Ah, perhaps. I mislead you, for I did not add a certain additional condition. This condition will allow you to understand the truth of my argument. When I say that fear is man’s nature, but that irrational worry is not, I mean that is may be gauged by the level of worry or fear. For instance, it is only natural that man should fear death if an extremely heavy object is falling from the sky within his vicinity; however, and this is a big ‘however’, irrational worry is such as a man who fears a heavy object falling on him from the sky when that heavy object is quite clearly bolted to the ground. The rational fear in this case would be to fear the bolts coming loose, and if it on a hill, fear it falling upon him. Fearing that the object should fall from the sky would require the object to be lifted into the sky, then drop back down. This is irrational, as the object is not in the sky currently, as it is both on the ground assumedly, and is bolted firmly down. It is not until the object is in the sky that we should fear it falling from the sky upon us. This irrational worry consumes man so frequently that war breaks out. One man begins fearing his friendly neighbor who could possibly kill him, instead he should only fear the man who seems to be a direct threat to his life. The irrationally fearful man grows more and more worried, until his fear and worry devours him, and he feels justified in insane acts, that in his mind, seem fine. These acts may include such things as murdering innocent people who ‘could possibly kill him’.”

”I see. Then you still claim man is rational by nature. But let us take this a step farther as far as warfare is concerned. Is not irrational worry something that takes place constantly and unendingly on the battlefield? Do men not drip with sweat, fearing that their opponents will attack them at random. And in that dead, quietest of quiet nights, do they not tremble in their places of rest, knowing that there is yet to come some dreaded, loathsome force? Does not this count as ‘irrational fear’? I believe the mindset of a man in war is of what you claim to be ‘irrational worry’, rather than merely one who is irrationally worried in comparison to society.”

”I would claim that that kind of worrying is justified in war, though. Since during most times of peace men are non-violent there is little or no fear of being killed purposefully, so that it becomes an irrational worry. During times of war it becomes a battle royal. No fear of death by another man’s hands may be deemed an irrational worry.”

”Again. Just war defines on how one terms it. Certain scholars claim that good intent only is contained within the morality of the activities pursued, rather than the morality of the morality of the intent behind those actions. I would tend to lean a slightly different direction, myself. I do not, however, believe that freedom is just cause for war.”

”But is not a tyrannical ruler with bad intentions who commits crimes on his own people just as bad as a war without just cause?”

”Not quite. The tyrannical leader should be replaced if the system is correct. If not, the system is at fault.”

”Which should, in turn, lead to some sort of revolution, no?”

”Not necessarily. It depends if that revolution is to be classified as a war. As I said, war for freedom is unjust.”

”That’s such garbage. If your leader is corrupt then the people should have every right to overthrow the leader, not wait for the system to replace him! I am sure that there have been situations of only one leader where the leader is the system.”

”Be that as it may, I do not feel it is applicable in common day terminology.”

”Perhaps, but if it does not work for one leader, it shouldn’t work with many leaders either.”

”Not quite. That is a fallacy of judgment, that the parts represent the whole. This is not always true. Having many leaders with opposing views guarantees that we will never have a tyrannical leadership.”

”I’m sorry, but I just cannot agree with that.”

.:: Part I : section 1 ::.

2004-11-01T02:37:00.000-08:00

PART I

”Why do you always ask the hardest questions to answer, Kaylin?”

”I’m sorry. If it’s too much trouble I-“ He began.

”No, no. I’ll try to do my best to answer it. Let me think. Can you repeat the question for me?”

”When is war just?” His statement was followed by a lengthy pause, as she thought over the inquiry.

”That raises a great deal of implications and questions, and I should like to answer each of them separately. I believe that certain people must be held responsible for their actions in war if they are violators. I would say that wartime logic clearly defines conventions one holds during times of peace.”

”And what logic would this be? What would constitute a violation exactly?”

”Well, anything that traditions and customs discern as being inhumane. Atrocious, murderous, or humiliating acts come to my mind.”

”Murderous? What does that mean? Is not murder dismissed altogether during war? Is not war about killing or defeating the opponent? I see a flaw in your logic.”

”I think one example would be if a warrior goes to battle and kills his own men, for instance. That would constitute murder during wartime, since it is of his own accord, rather than for a greater good.”

”That statement brings up even more questions which I have. Is not murder defined as the intentional killing of a man? Does that mean that the only justified killings are those unplanned in self-defense? And what is this ‘greater good’ you speak of? When has a war ever been fought for ‘greater good’?”

”Well, I would not classify it as ‘murder’ during wartime to kill a man, unintentionally. And as for intentionally, if it supports the side which they are fighting on, then I would not classify it as murder either. The reason I bring up this as a point of dissimilarity is because if one man is not killing for the guise with which he went into war, then he is not only betraying his comrades, his cause, and himself, but he is acting out of his own greed and self-interest.”

”He may be betraying his comrades, but if his intentions were not to support that cause from the beginning – if it was, as you say, a mere guise, then I do not feel he betrays himself. But let us put that aside for the time being, I am far more interested in a second point on that note. If not it a greater fault, rather than the betrayal of cause or comrades, that when man enters into war, he betrays his nature? Do not all men betray this?”

”No. Man is primarily a savage animal. We have ‘cultured’ and domesticated ourselves like any other animal which we ourselves have in turn domesticated. I believe that man is a creature of bodily lust of a various array of kinds. Bloodlust is just another appearance which these animalistic traits find themselves cropping up as.”

”So you do not wish to live in peace and order?”

”I’m not saying that, Kaylin. We have cultured ourselves to the point that we are able to live fairly decent lives. Humans were never beings that lived to be in harmony with their environment- look around you. Do you think these buildings just up and built themselves? I hold the belief that, like the legends tell of, there was once something other than all this that is around us. I believe there truly once was a Demeter.”

”Now you’re just being ridiculous. I’m trying to have a serious debate, and you bring up myths and legends? Everyone knows the idea of Demeter is a fallacy. You really believe in things that grow from the ground? Go take a look outside. There’s nothing there but cement and metal. Believing in magical entities that sprout from the ground and provide food and breathable air is as inane as believing in large bodies of water that just appear for the sake of providing men with fluid to drink and sustain themselves.”

”Fine, belief may not be proof enough. But still, do you think these buildings came before man?”

”I suppose you’re right.”

”Of course I am. Now look, back to the point of justice in war. I think that there is no justification of destructiveness and killing, which is pure carnage. That is different than just war. Just war would be something that occurs in an attempt to resolve a conflict that could otherwise escalate, or go on eternally. Just war would be something that hopes for peace.”

”War for peace’s sake? Doesn’t that seem a bit ironic.” The strawberry-blonde haired boy mused, perhaps more to himself than to his companion.

”Fighting for peace is important, you know? The tale of Colwyn Fahd is a relevant one to us, I believe. It tells us of a war fought in attempts to gain peace. Sure, either side winning would surely have meant peace. Wars occur usually when there are two or more opposing sides; if there is a victor then they take power and rule. Such is the case with the resulting spread of the system as we know it. Those barriers you see every day you walk outside past the Kempeitai office are there not to protect us and our interests. They are there to protect us all from each other… because, as I said, man is a monster if left to his own vices.”

”That’s how you think about them? That we are just like them, only ‘civilized’?”

”Look Kaylin. I don’t want to have this discussion right now. Those accursed, wretched monsters would kill you without a thought! You know that as well as I do. They can never become us, because they have been separated since the Seven Days of Inferno. If you start a war, there must be a reason. Those who attack first without just cause are those who commit a violation.”

”But I still don’t understand. What is this ‘just cause’ you speak of? How can any man have ‘just cause’ for the slaying of another? Is not that the highest thing which we in society praise?”

She took a long, heavy sigh, looking down at the cup of coffee in her hands. Dipping a long-stemmed, silver spoon into it, she swirled around the murky brownish black mixture as ripples formed on its surface.

”Man is an inherently irrational being, Kaylin. Sometimes we revert to this irrationality. Call it what you may, fighting our nature, or whatever to become logical and rational. But you cannot say that there is a lack of any merit in being logical. If you did, you might as well not be having this conversation right now.”

”I feel like you are finding a tricky side-stepping excuse to this conversation. That is poor evidence.”

”Fine. In the legends of the Seven Days of-“

”Legends. That is all they are. How do we not know they were made up?”

”Can you think of a more reasonable explanation as to why The Charred are the way they are?”

He winced slightly.

”Please don’t call them… that.”

”O.k. The Zosimus. Why do you think they are the way they are? What better explanation is there for the divisions? The Kempeitai? How we came to be here? Do you think this is just some grand excuse to grasp at straws for a truth we haven’t got?”

”I wouldn’t say that. But even if I agreed with the bare bones of your Seven Days myth, I don’t feel it is justified to agree with every detail. For one thing, the mathematical statistics don’t add up. If all those people died with so few survivors, who buried all the endless dead?”

”Well, they obviously weren’t endless, since they’re buried or burned, or gotten rid of… But I would say that perhaps those who were neutral – our ancestors – buried them along with The Ch-… Zosimus?”

.:: prologue ::.

2004-11-01T01:14:00.000-08:00

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

- The Second Coming (W. B. Yeats)

PROLOGUE

Above the wandering winds a slow dirge of death arose. The rough warrior, slathered with the scent of sweat and rotting stench of fresh corpses. His hair was blonde, but so stained with blood it simmered pink in the dying light. As he stumbled to his feet, he attempted to climb across the mass of still bodies. All still, all silent. All that he could see in sight were bodies strewn, some mangled, others whole. Many still had their armor on, while others had clothing shredded to bits, and some were so trampled that their body parts were either severed or obliterated altogether. The sheer quantity of rank death was preposterous. All he could see, any way he looked, was the result of brutal violence, memories of the massive onslaught. He felt his hands, thinking they were covered in sweat, but looking at them revealed that they, too, were marred with blood. Blood of his own? He could not tell. He grew frantic suddenly, pushing limbs and corpses aside, looking at the top of the hill that lay before him. Somewhere above he thought he heard a noise.

As he brushed past, the corpses were heavy but gave way. This truly was hell, he thought. He had heard tales of a place where bodies lay, reeking of their own pungent odors, and their fellow men, inhaling the fumes, stunk worse. This endless cycle of foul smells caused an unending chaos of torment. A place where the flames burnt and scorch’d bodies and night was never ending.

As the skies above closed up, the world was concealed in several shades of gray darkness. Without a single trace of illumination, he grew even more furious, until finally, he reached the place where that last sound, that last hope of life had come. It had been a tiresome battle, the battle to end all battles, as it was said by those going into it. That supernatural strength with which he had pushed past the field littered with corpses and climbed up to this point was fleeting now.

”My dear friend, Macaria. What have they done?” He sunk to his knees, the tears wrestling their way through his face. Staring in horror at his wretched, mangled friend. The brave warrior, whom he had known well rested on the ground, barely able to lift his arm, the metal covering his wrist clanking as it hit the bloodied earth.

”You’re… alive.” Macaria sputtered, his dark brown hair tattered and stuck to his forehead with furious sweat and mud. Tears welled up in the warrior’s eyes, the warrior who was known never to cry.

”What is this? Is this all that we have come to? Is this all that man reached from the petty squalor of daily life? Poor remains of friends, be this the only rock that is not tainted by man’s blood? You, noble vessel of grief, it runs over even at your eyes, you who are sworn never to shed tear. What honour lies in this? Has thy life had any snatch of truth? You, whose life was gentle… will you or any man have proper burial? If we all die, who will bury us? You, who gave your life to this cause, was it worthwhile, now that you lie here in your last moments? Howl, and rage! You are men of stones. Had I your tongues and eyes, I should use them so that heaven’s vaults should crack! Be this the promised end, or image of that horror? All’s cheerless, dark, and deadly now. The dead are desperately dead, yes, we in all our ‘honor’ have seen to that!” What comfort to this great decay may come? Pray you, tell me: why die you so, Macaria? This is not the death of a nobleman, this is the death of a fool! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life and thou no breath at all? Break, heart; I prithee, break! And should I vex your ghost a nimble second longer? You have lived so long, and yet too short! This tough world is but a rack that has stretched you out until your dying moments. And this moment shall haunt me for the rest of my life, for my soul is too much charged with blood. What false angels have we served here? The angel of death, only, I am certain- the accursed tongue does tell me so! This field, your cause of sorrow, but sorrow may not be measured by it’s worth, for then it hath no end. I should not wish such a death upon even them who committed these deeds. Truly let us say, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed. Havoc! Havoc! Havoc!”

”No, you are wrong. I am worth no more. I part well and have paid my score. God be with me always. This is a potent poison that o’er-crows my spirit. You cry on havoc, claiming the sight is dismal, but my soul is at peace. Proud death, I humbly submit myself now. I have no more words.” The warrior’s last words were muted by a tremendous burst of blood which spurted forth from his lips as he coughed, choked, sputtered, and died.

”Where is your God now? Where is God now! O’ bloody, carnal, and unnatural acts! O accidental judgments, casual slaughters, deaths put on by cunning and forced cause! You give me no answer to this blood question, but only destroy my last hopes! Your ears are senseless that should give us hearing! Now cracks a noble heart!” And with that he fell to his knees, weeping openly, as even the thunder rumbling in the distance stilled for that last moment of suffering and agony.

.:: october 31st exercise - harbinger ::.

2004-10-31T01:46:00.000-08:00

October 31st Exercise - Harbinger
Theannoucement. It was coming It was comingitwas coming. Here it came. Hiseyesfleshedopen like tear drops pounding down soaking down against the rainwater that soaked up allthe tear drops in the rain water below.

His flesh soaked up the tear drops in the rain water as he looked at the rain water reflected in the dim, dismal puddles below. He looked at the reflection. Looked at the water. He looked. No! What? The water.. the reflection in the water? Was it a sign? What did it mean? What could such a thing be? It was the shadowy figure of a being… an omniscient, vile creature.. wretchedcreatures lurkingbeneathbehindbelow… Where could where? Pat pat pad pad pad pad came the footsteps against the ancient bamboo flooring. He turned his head abruptly

and

swiftly. Shattering the pools of water below with ripples. The being approached somberly. She was silver and golden with hints of an orange glow surroundingher they encompassed herbody in a circumambiatingfashion. She was mysteriously beautiful, nothing like the peculiar figure that he had witnessed moments earlier in the mirror that was the pool below that was the water that were those reflected tear drops of amalgamated sweat drops that he had sucked dry with no more than a single frosty breath against the stained glass waters.

She was somber and mediocre at best. She was all-loving. She was not there. He looked up and she was gone. Her black-dyed hair, bound up like a book to look like a Geisha. Her kimono lay on the floor in tatters, the remnants of a memory that once was. The memories, the moments… everything floodedbacklikeatorrentthatbeatathisheadwithabambamabam and he couldn’t stop no how could he stop he couldn’t stop those memories that were toopainfuland powerful and potent and what was the p words why couldn’t he stop her reflection in his tears in the pool

And lookingup there was the figure again
the figure that was black and shadowy
And in the pool was the girl.

And he realized he was drowning, choking, gagging, stammering for air and breathless sight like beggars clutching stacks and sacks and muted epiphanies of gasping for gasping for air.

.:: dares i intend to take ::.

2004-10-31T01:15:00.000-08:00

Here's the basic premise:

"Someone makes a dare for you to stick something in your novel, or do something with your novel. These dares can be complicated--"never give your main character a name for the whole 50K"--or simple--"include a black cat named boo". They are very often silly, but this isn't strictly a requirement. You take whatever dares you think you can use--or even some you aren't sure about, just for fun."

http://www.nanowrimo.org/modules/newbb/viewtopic.php?viewmode=flat&order=ASC&topic_id=65&forum=150
The dares I will be taking
(just to make this harder on myself.. Haha. Or more interesting, perhaps?) :

Kass Fireborn - "have a character in your novel do something based on The Evil Overlord List. Whether they are directly inspired by it, or just do an action off of it, I don't care."
(the one I'm taking from the list is # 7: When I've captured my adversary and he says, "Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?" I'll say, "No." and shoot him. No, on second thought I'll shoot him then say "No." )

Pookel - "Include a game of cards in your novel."
"Every day, take one actual event that has happened that day, either in your life or in the news, and work it into your writing for the day."

StephieSama - "Include an animal stampede through the busy streets of wherever your story is taking place."

Sweet_Kitten - "I dare you to have in your book a dog that always!! ALWAYS! ALWAYS jumps on th main character and tends to bite him.."

lainie - "I dare you to have a character who believes, really, that they are God/Jesus/Buddha/insert spiritual figure here." - well.. I was already going to get kinda close to this. I might deviate from it a bit though. ^_-;; *plot spoilers* LOL

Lora Danners - "Include at least one terrible pickup line."

dailcious - "Have Trotsky make a cameo in your novel."

morigale - "I dare you to have a character, preferrably a main character, set a corpse on fire. Bonus points if he or she didn't actually need to dispose of it, and really just did it because they could."

JulieScot00 - " have a character who eats in every single scene they're in."
"have a character with a metal eye"

madnessisavirtue - "Include a recipe for chocolate cake in your novel. It may be a separate chapter, but it should preferably just randomly appear in the middle of the story, then the story continues as if the recipe wasn't interrupting it."
"Integrate the usernames of at least 3 Nanoers into your novel somehow (e.g. lines of dialogue, building names, road signs, chapter titles, random bits of graffiti that character happen to pass)." (for this I plan to use: MadnessIsAVirtue themself,

boy_blunder - "Include at least three references to a cup of over-steeped tea. Double points if the tea bag is never actually dealt with because of other pressing issues."

demeanor - "- Have one character finish all of his/her sentences with: "in accordance with the prophecy" Huge bonus points if someone asks this character what the prophecy is."

CaptainNick - "begin your novel with a warning against reading the novel"
"and last but not least... Have a character attending a religious service, ritual, event, whatever, burst out laughing inappropriately (or at least start snerking). When asked what the hell is going on, have the character explain that s/he was thinking about "The Dare Thread.""

Sumeragi - "Have a middle-aged or older character who has never spent any coins, but has kept them in jars for their entire life."

Xie_Kitchin - "have a scene revolve around the dilemma of grass being green and whether or not the color is a matter of perception"

(I wish I could do these ones, they're just so good.. maybe next year:

Elume Azure - "Devote one entire chapter that was as long as your first chapter to a character eating a sandwhich."

Beefy - "My dare: Include in your novel one character who dies due to the effects of the Atkins diet."

Snatchal - "whenever you describe the weather, do it in terms of food (i.e. "The sun sank into the ocean like a great red apple into caramel, without the messy dripping and trouble of putting it in the refridgerator afterwards" LoL

Voronda - "Have one character speak entirely in capslock. Double points if you make them very civilized and well-mannered and use capslock even when they're talking softly. Alternatively, have them shouting all the time, but completely unaware that they're doing so."

Haha. Too bad. T_T;; )

O.k. So they go on and on and on. I'll try and include the ones I said I was going to.. O_o;;

.: mary-sue litmust test :.

2004-10-30T23:40:00.000-07:00

So Kaylin scores a: 37 on the Mary Sue Litmus Test

(31-40 points: Borderline-Sue. Your character is cutting it close, and you may want to work on the details a bit, but you're well on your way to having a lovely original character. Good work. )

Oh well. At least it said "Good work" ^_^;;
Besides, some of their things are unrealistic.. for instance, I draw all my characters. v_v;;

.: relieved : well, a little :.

2004-10-30T22:40:00.000-07:00

Hahah. I'm such a baka!!! I thought my longest fanfiction was "11,945" words.. But it was actually "111,945" words! Which means writing 50,000 words should be a piece of cake.. Especially since I've written stuff almost that length in 2 weeks.. ^_^

I am SO relieved!!! Jeez... I am so stupid *smacks self in head* ^_^
Phewph!!!!

.: freaking out :.

2004-10-30T18:31:00.000-07:00

O.k. I went back and looked at my longest fanfiction written. It was only 11,1945 words. It took me quite a while to do, and is still unfinished..

So how the HELL do I plan to write 50,000 freaking words?! I think I must truly be insane.. *cries* I know I'm not the only one who's freaking out right about now though.... *sigh*

I guess I should outline my MC, Kaylin... since most of the plot depends on him. T_T;;

(this is borrowed from ultrablog ^_^ )

Kaylin Maeko:
1. Age: 17
Gender: M
3. Work: Night-Student
4. Friends, family, love interests: best friend is going to be a girl... no idea of anything about her. No family as to speak of yet. Love interest will be a character who comes up later.
5. Living space: living on his own in a really crappy run-down place.
6. Hobbies: Philosophical debate. ^_^ (he's about as boring as me! yay!)
7. What were they doing a year ago/five years ago: a year ago, about the same. Five years ago, living in an orphanage I guess?
8. Values and politics: your average "neutral" character, not particularly for or against anything, perceptive of things like class/caste system, doesn't particularly agree with it... but isn't really going to do anything about it either, etc.

Another Exercise:

1. At the start of your book, what distinguishes your protagonist from other people? What central strength does he/she have? How does this strength get him/her into trouble?

Distinguish: While everything else is in chaos he'll be trying to just... live. And he'll think about things rather than making rash decisions.

Strength: Intelligence and honesty to fault.

Trouble: Basically getting used.. Don't want to elaborate or it'll reveal too much. ^^

2. When the novel opens, what is s/he on the brink of doing? Why does he/she say she's going to do this? What does this action represent for the protagonist?

Brink: Having a philosophical debate? o.O;; Maybe quit school too.
Why?: Too much stress, not learning what he wants to learn.
Represent: A draw away from the rest of his "standard" society.

3. What external situation will require the protagonist's participation throughout the course of the book? How does this connect with #2? Does it help or interfere? Can you build in a deadline for extra tension

Situation: Chaos occuring.
Connect: Honesty aids in politics.
Help/Interfere?: Well, it's the cause of all the problems, so I'd say it interferes. LoL
Deadline: Er.. o_O;; War will break out.

4. What is the protagonist's goal for the time the book covers? How does this connect with the external situation? Or does the external situation divert the protagonist from his/her goal? Why does the protagonist SAY he/she wants the goal? Is there a deeper motivation as yet unknown to him/her?

Goal: Peace
External: Erm. It stops the chaos. T_T;;
Diversion?: Sort of. Hard to explain.
Why?: Why does he want peace? o_O;; Because his "morals" dictate that war is bad, while other people feel it is perhaps justified...
Motivation: Yes. ^_^;; Creepy "coincidental" parallelism.. but I shan't pull a "plot spoiler" out just yet. ^_^;;;

5. What problem (external conflict) does the external situation present? How can the protagonist eventually resolve that conflict?

External Problem: Chaos that doesn't seem solvable.
Resolution: Hopefully, he will settle people down through speeches.

6. List at least three obstacles in the way of her resolving this conflict. Make one an internal obstacle/conflict.

1. Internal Obstacle: He battles with his own morals and lack of morality
2. Relationship: His possible relationship could prevent him from being productive politically.
3. Chaos and Classes: Um.. The fact that everyone else is pretty much.. like. "Durr... Screw you! WAR!" o_O;;

7. How will the protagonist grow because of confronting these obstacles?

He's going to retreat more and more from society. (Does that count as "growth"? LoL) And speeches will change drastically.

8. What do you want to happen at the end of the book?

I don't want to give that away. ^_^

9. What will have to happen to the protagonist against his/her will to make your ending come about?
Don't want to give THAT away either. ^_- But I'm thinking about it.. Haha.

.:: exercise + graphics ::.

2004-10-30T03:24:00.000-07:00

October 30th Exercise- Dice

The drill: write for five minutes about the topic of the day, then stop. The goal is to write as much as you can and ignore your inner editor for those five minutes. Then post it all here for the world to see Oh, and if you go over 5 minutes, the punishment is severe- we'll boil you alive and serve you on a platter during the Kick Off Parties in November if you post that you wrote 400 words in 6 minutes and 2 seconds. (Nah, really the 5 minutes is just so we dont get posts with like a thousand words, usually people go over by a minute or two when they really like what they're writing)

My piece:

The dice were cold, and hard in his stale palm. He looked down at them, remembering all the horrific experiences connected with those very same dice. The world around him burst into life, silver roses fleshing themselves out. A white balcony lit the scene above, and bushes flew into all glory and natural splendor. The sight was simply astonishing, but no more than a mere roll of the dice, as he knew. He stood, transfixed at the beautiful figure that now possessed his gaze. It was the figure of a sleek being, neither clearly male nor female. The figure was bathed in a startling light, so that he was unable to ascertain it’s gender. Gender mattered little anyhow, at this rate he was only interested in getting closer to the being, touching it… running his hands along that finely ornate hair. The hair was sleek and perfect, and he longed to taste it against his bare shoulder blade. His neck twitched.

The figure’s hands blossomed out to him in an unending spiral of eloquence. He tried to turn his head this way and that, hoping to trace the movements of the beauty, to acquire through some deep, aesthetic and intrinsic need… or lust, the passion of that movement. And he wanted to reach out to the being, but he felt shackled and chained down by the roses and canopy that surrounded him. The sky was blue- he had never seen a blue sky before. It was wondrous. His eyes glazed over the being again, as it collapsed… it was his fault for looking away! As the figure spilled to the ground, he rushed to it, catching the slender form in his arms.. but now the figure had lost all it’s youth and elegance. It was no more than a ragged form, skin fractured and torn like crumbling paper fragments. The head had been reduced to no more than a skull with bits of plastered on skin, like paper mache. And as his eyes moved up, past those holes that formed the nostrils and curved like wires, in those eyes… which were no more than gaping sockets, black as shattered glass cutting into one’s skin… in those eyes were held a pair of silver dice, one in each socket. They rolled out, covered in dried blood- and that’s when he passed out.

(391 words, only just went past the 5 minute mark) ^_^

(No. This has nothing to do with my NaNo story. But it's prep. ^_^ )

Also:

Busting out the graphic fun. ^_-

this baby is called the NaNoWriMo Progress Meter. ^_-
or NaNoWriProMo for short (not that that's very short. LoL) ^.^ It'll track my progress throughout.. Mu'ahaha!

.:: the second coming ::.

2004-10-28T22:42:00.000-07:00

let's read up on this poem kiddies, because it's going to have a pretty heavy influence on my novel (just to tip you guys off.)

The Second Coming
by: W. B. Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming!
Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

.:: story development ::.

2004-10-28T22:13:00.000-07:00

So, after totally freaking out in general about the content of my plot, setting, characters, blah blah blah I've had a few good friends who helped me flesh it out.

Thanks to:

Sarah, Matt, and Napster.

I'm hesitant as to posting any actual plot / character developments here as those may ruin the story. I will, however, post some stuff on the style of what I plan to write:

Stream of Consciousness

So, I plan to segment the story into about 3/5ths Stream-of-Consciousness, 1/5th skeletal structure for the basic plot and 1/5th for a juxtaposing speech-format. The speech format will be excessively structured, I may come back later for elevated language enhancing purposes + additional structure. The stream of consciousness will read more like something between a look into someone's mind and some kind of free-verse poetry extravaganza.. >_>;;

Inter-textuality

The purpose of this in the novel will be relevant for 2 reasons
1) demonstrating that I understand culture, and thereby have the right to critique it ( ^.~ )
2) sparking up old concepts and buildig on them throughout the piece, giving them additional meaning, etc.

I plan to focus mainly on 2 things,
1) literary / poetic / written works that are fairly famous and often scholarly that discuss humanity / morals / etc.
2) philisophical texts + beliefs / varying religious beliefs

both of these will be worldly topics. As well I may include a few allegorical elements, and some random pop-culture stuff but it will be so vaguely used that it will only serve as an inside-joke sort of thing to a very limited audience.

As to whether I endnote the text or not... I think I'm going to have to, for the sake of my own sanity. I think the endnotes will possibly have to be included in my wordcount as well, or I might just go nuts.

.:: summary of events to come ::.

2004-10-28T15:41:00.000-07:00

I will insert a summary here quite soon, which will be followed by posts... I'm hoping to get criticism and ideas when I run into problems, because I always have this terrible habit of beginning things but never finishing unless I do it all at once...

If anyone has no idea what this is all about please go to:

NaNoWriMo - the official site
Na-No-Blog-Mo - the blog listing.

As far as the post on the forum goes questioning whether novels will be published
1) I don't care all that much about being published, I just want to finish something for once in my life, and write a good story, hopefully getting feedback from people along the way.
2) I think I won't put one period in at the very last sentence of the book, so that if I ever decide to publish it I can claim that it was "drastically altered from the posted version" Hahaha.. Kidding ^^ I'll probably rework and edit it a LOT though based on the feedback which I recieve.

(To Graham of the Na-No-Blog-Mo blog listing... please wait for me to post a summary of my story, because I do plan to write one in the next day, instead of quoting something from this post >_<;; )