Art

I am currently low in ideas for posts so I decided to put up a picture that I finished last night. For some reason it turned out looking very odd when scanned so I had to tinker with it until it looked reasonable.
Now that I think about it she kind of looks flat; well then again she was drawn on paper.

Compose/r/rs/ing

Needless to say, everyone likes music; we may not all agree on thee same style, but we all like music. Here's a taste of what I like to listen to:

Howard Shore (Lord of the Rings)
Hans Zimmer (Pirates of the Caribbean 2&3)
Klaus Badelt (Pirates of the Caribbean)
Harry Gregson-Williams (The Chronicles of Narnia)
David Nevue http://www.davidnevue.com/sheetmusic.htm
Regina Spektor
Imogen Heap
Andrew Lloyd Webber (The Phantom of the Opera)
And many more.

Rubik's Cube.

As confusing as the card game, Killer Bunnies, I give to you: The Rubik's Cube! I have had one of these for a few years and have not been able to solve it until now! What's that you ask? how did I accomplish such a feat? Simple: Cheating. Out of frustration I pulled up Google and typed in: rubix cube solution, (that was before I found out that the correct spelling was "Rubik's") and found this vary useful website: http://www.wrongway.org/cube/solve.html All you have to do is paint in the position of your messed up cube and presto!

More Paolini!

More Paolini! This is the first part of the prologue to Paolini's first book, Eragon; it includes little notes from me:

Prologue:

Shade of Fear

-O.k., that's just too cheesy, it makes me queasy-

1. Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that would change the world. A tall Shade lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked human except for his crimson hair and maroon eyes.

2. He blinked in surprise. The message had been correct: they were here. Or was it a trap? He weighed the odds, then said icily, "Spread out; hide behind trees or bushes. stop whoever is coming... or die."

-Skip ahead to paragraph 6. where it says he has to wait a few more hours. How would he be able to smell the elves hours before they arrived?-

3. Around him shuffled twelve Urgals with short swords and round iron shields painted with black symbols. They resembled men with bowed legs and thick, brutish arms made for crushing. A pair of pair of twisted horns grew above their small ears. The monsters hurried into the brush, grunting as they hid. Soon the rustling quieted and the forest was silent again.

-"Around him shuffled twelve Urgals..." but here, "The monsters hurried into the brush..." It might just be me, but isn't it hard to hurriedly shuffle into the brush, and isn't it kind of noisy? If the Shade really wants everything quiet for the ambush, then shouldn't they be going about it differently? "Soon the rustling quieted and the forest was silent again." That is, everything was silent again except for the "Wind howled through the night." (paragraph 1.)-

4. The Shade peered around a thick tree and looked up the trail. It was too dark for any human to see, but for him the faint moonlight was like sunshine streaming between the trees; every detail was clear and sharp to his searching gaze. He remained unnaturally quiet, a long pale sword in his hand. a wire-thin scratch curved down the blade. the weapon was thin enough to slip between a pair of ribs, yet hard enough to hack through the hardest armor.

-Thin enough to slip between a pair of ribs, yet hard enough to hack through the hardest armor? Wow, Paolini really knows a lot about swords.-

5. The Urgals could not see as well as the Shade; they groped like blind beggars, fumbling with their weapons. An owl screeched, cutting through the silence. No one relaxed until the bird flew past. Then the monsters shivered in the cold night; one snapped a twig with his heavy boot. The Shade hissed in anger, and the Urgals shrank back, motionless. He suppressed his distaste-they smelled like fetid meat-and turned away. they were tools, nothing more.

-If you are waiting to ambush someone, and you've got your weapons in hand, then there's no need to fumble with them. The Shade hissed in anger? If you're angry at someone for making noise, you don't hiss at them because the "s" would stand out too munch in a quiet forest. The Urgals shrank back, motionless? Yeah, if you haven't noticed, it's really hard to shrink back and be motionless at the same time.-

6. The Shade force back his impatience as the minutes became hours. The scent must have wafted far ahead of it's owners. He did not let the Urgals get up or warm themselves. He denied himself those luxuries, too, and stayed behind the tree, watching the trail. Another gust of wind rushed through the forest. The smell was stronger this time. Excited, he lifted a thin lip in a snarl.

7. "Get ready," he whispered, his whole body vibrating. The tip of his sword moved in small circles. It had taken many plots and much pain to bring him to this moment. It would not do to lose control now.

8. Eyes brightened under the Urgal's thick brows, and the creatures gripped there weapons tighter. Ahead of them, the Shade heard a clink as something hard stuck a loose stone. Faint smudges emerged from the darkness and advanced down the trail.

-Oh, so they've got a stone trail in the middle of a forest; where did they get the stones? and why did they make the trail out of stones?-

I intend on doing the rest later, but by now you should get the basic idea on how Paolini writes.

Trashin' the Inheritance Cycle

Today I'm trashing the Inheritance! Christopher Paolini's books are sad. The main plot is to stretched, the characters are too similar, the writing is poor high schooler stuff and a lot of the time Paolini doesn't even know what he's writing about; Plagiarism is second nature to him (next comes deceiving people), he's not properly using his imagination, and he's even properly disguising his plagiarism! I have to say, he is truly amazing, I mean, do you know of anyone else that can write such poor fiction as his?

He kind of looks like Dwight Schrute from the Office, and someone who just passed gas.

I doubt if he ever took a writing class or researched on what he's writing. If you've yet to read his books, than do so now, so that you too can write a post on your blog on the same subject. I'm writing a paper-like thing about this topic on Microsoft Word and it has a lot to do about his plagiarism, I'll try to get it up as soon as I can.

The Lord of the Rings Musical

When you first hear of a musical of a very good and complicated book like The Lord of the Rings, you've got to be at least a little sceptical, I was! But, after I did some research ( a.k.a. watching a lot of videos on youtube), I thought that it looked really cool.

Here's some great videos:

Wonder - Laura Michelle Kelly ( Galadriel )

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJ601JPn-rg

Lothlorien - Lord of The Rings Musical London

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGhU_YvJ1yg&feature=related

Lothlorien - The Lord of the Rings musical Galadriel

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k796JtCVa7k&feature=related

Gollum

Leaves!

Why did I choose to rake up the leaves on my own free will? Simple: Raking's fun, I like having a huge pile of leaves in the front yard, and there's no feeling like that of landing in a pile of leaves and just laying there for a few minutes, looking up at the web of branches with they're collection of multi-colored treasure. This year we got an exceptionally large pile:

But with a great pile of leaves comes great responsibility, and my two sisters and I were forced to help pick it all up. Since we didn't have enough bags with which to hold them in, we needed another way to to haul them to the dump. My dad thought that we should lay out tarps in our big van and lode the leaves in and drive to the dump. But I thought that we should use our neighbors trailer (with permission), dump all the leaves into it and drive down Division Street at 60 miles per hour, then by the time the cops catch us, all the evidence will have been blown away! We went with my dad's idea.

Fiction

Fiction is a way of expressing ones feelings or ideas in the form of a story.
No matter what is in it, that fictional story will be only yours, you were that hero that fought in that battle, and no one else can contradict you about the facts; you were that prince in shining armor who save the princess, and no one else can tell you how you really saved her.
It's your world, and everything you say happened, happened.

My favorite books and movies are are fictional, it shows the author/director's creativity. It's one thing to be able to write down all these facts about something that really happened, but it's another thing to be able to create those facts and to put them in an order that makes an interesting story.

First Post.

I like to write, but the problem is that I'm not so good at it. I've been working on a book for a few years and the sad thing is, I'm only on chapter two. I know I've got some real potential buried some where deep inside me, but I'm afraid I won't be able to dig it all up before St. Peter's asking me all of those questions that will forever change my (after)life.

I also like poetry, though it's usually the insulting stuff.

Example:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You smell like
Some monkey's poo

I know it's not nice
I know it's quite mean
But you've got to be the most disgusting
Person I've seen

It's not just my opinion
Many other people think
That you're ugly, disgusting,
And you really stink

Note: I don't actually think that of anyone.