The Moon Will Rise Again

My tweets

2012-07-28T12:19:47Z

Sat, 03:45: Mountain Lion time! http://t.co/aphwtdox

My tweets

2012-07-24T12:23:19Z

Mon, 18:40: I just got a $2 credit for music from @amazonmp3 and @imdb. Get your credit here: http://t.co/2a8lvMsR
Mon, 19:52: Pls RT- Senate vote on #CISPA THIS WEEK. Urge senators to vote no + support privacy http://t.co/ZCiugueX via @demandprogress

My tweets

2012-07-22T12:34:02Z

Sat, 21:01: RT @MsHejja: Wow... I mean it's Ramadan. Do you really have to scream right now? #unbelievable #YouDisgustMeSometimes
Sat, 21:16: I'm listening to Speak For Yourself by Imogen Heap on #CloudPlayer http://t.co/6mAAi8Pk via @amazonmp3

My tweets

2012-07-21T12:34:45Z

Fri, 22:24: YAY ALL MY MUSIC ON MY MAC SOMEHOW HAS BEEN DELETED! /sarcasm

My tweets

2012-07-19T12:20:34Z

Thu, 05:32: As I reminisce my reoccurring dreams... http://t.co/2JgAzybv

As I reminisce my reoccurring dreams...

2012-07-19T05:32:41Z

I'm obviously not fine. Actually, I think I'm emotionally on my last string. Every night I have these dreams that basically blame me for getting sick and showing me I threw my old life away for this current, much more shitty one. I wake up with a headache, and I'm bawling all the time; it's not a way to live. This is not easy for me at all. To clarify, I had Viral Meningitis for about 6 days in July of 2011, which basically wiped all my muscle memory from my brain. I had to learn how to speak, hold a spoon (!) and walk all over again. Now, that sounds scary, and being a year later, I'm almost back at full speed before I got sick. Almost.

The key word here is almost. I mean, I can't get my 19th year back, so I just have to have more fun at 20 to make up for it! But in all seriousness, I didn't just lose my ability to do mundane stuff like walking and dressing myself, I lost three ~~important~~ super important abilities: the ability to draw, to write quickly and most importantly, the ability to sing.

Now, I'm working on drawing, and I was taking an art class at community college. I'll say, for starting from zero a year ago, I got pretty damn good.

(Picture Later)

Writing is somewhat the same thing, and I type a lot more as well, although I am practicing on my good old Moleskines.

Those two I do not have a problem with. However, the hardest thing I still can't even remotely do is sing. And for people who knew what I sounded like, it seems like some sick joke.

I'm the one that is standing on the platform behind the guy.

It's not like the generic "music is my life" thing people say only to find fame and fortune; for me, music was my way to feel like I was living. It curbed some of my depression and anxiety through the beauty and love of expression through song. It's not bullshit; I'm serious. I felt like it was the only thing I had that wasn't so criticized in a negative way; my art was always too abstract and my writing was too elusive but my voice was always "strong" and "beautiful".

Honestly, being a Muslim girl, I was raised by knowing you shouldn't try too hard to beautify yourself and not focus on petty stuff like getting people to like you. However, I never had any confidence in myself and I never associated myself with being even remotely attractive. When I began singing, especially in high school, people saw beyond my bitchy-girl attitude and began to see me as an actual human. It was so nice, and I felt for once, I didn't have to hide behind a rude demeanor to get anywhere.

And now it's gone. What the hell should I do now?

My tweets

2012-07-16T12:18:52Z

Sun, 13:29: Retweet to enable Namecheap $0.98 com/net/org registration or transfer! @namecheap #ncsale. Details: http://t.co/rl2uU2vP via @namecheap
Sun, 13:55: http://t.co/0F8vyp7e
Sun, 14:46: I love her fierceness! From the "Getting Scared" music video. http://t.co/MIZQJ2Yd
Sun, 15:14: Who's getting scared now? http://t.co/IK6tnfnz
Sun, 16:21: Who's getting scared now? http://t.co/SwpY1Fzn
Sun, 16:34: POLL TIME! http://t.co/f0BmBVcM
Sun, 23:55: The Moon's Descent: PROLOGUE http://t.co/CI9nvBY1

The Moon's Descent: PROLOGUE

2012-07-15T23:55:32Z

The young, twenty-year old girl hit another dead end in the abandoned building that was breaking apart like crumbled bread. She had nowhere else to go; she knew her trying to run away was fruitless, but she kept herself in denial. Her footing was not great as she tripped on a rock that had was conveniently in her path. It caused her to almost fall, but she caught herself. Instead, the rock had bruised her foot, which was only covered by thin, cheap burnt-orange sneakers that had seen better days. The impact created bruises the ball of her foot which would make it difficult to run from this man.

"Shit!' she muttered to herself, although it was more like an exasperated scream.The frightened girl ran with full force across the barren hall, holding a rusted, blue crowbar she found at the entrance of the disowned building in her small, sweaty and hot left palm. In fact, the sweat was twinkling in the night sky against her ivory-colored skin. Green eyes were in Her breathing was deep and audible. It was a reflection of hear fear for her life in this extreme situation and echoed down the corridor of the barren, lifeless building.

The creep had deflected the hit on his back by magically dodging the crowbar, as if he had some sort of catlike reaction speed. There was no other good reason as to why he was by the corner of the alley behind the public library at that time exactly, as he was a nothing, a dirty homeless, drunk man with no purpose other than to just steal expensive goods from victims, usually walking alone, at night, in the dark, untrustworthy alleys of downtown Winterstown. Sprinting quickly, she was trying to make sense of her situation. It wasn't like he had another reason to attack me specially, right? she frantically thought to herself. This was a matter of life or death, as she saw it; the man had a gun, and could, at any moment, shoot her. For an unknown reason to her, he decided to fight instead.

This stranger had two objectives in mind, it seemed to her: to take her crappy, scratched laptop, and to take advantage of her. He only wanted to ‘play with her’, and she would not comply with his request. Not to worry, she will come to me like all those other brats, he thought sheepishly. Her fear made him very confident of his strength. Right now, she was keeping her pace of a steady sprint, trying and yet inevitably not making it far enough away to lose him.

This would not have happened if I had taken the damn main sidewalk, and not the stupid back-way shortcut! she thought to herself. Her long day was spent at the library studying, or at least trying to study and successfully not even looking at her textbooks as a result. After that wasted time, she realized it was nine thirty in the evening, and she knew that her aunt would start asking questions and would have a panic attack. The reason she lived with her aunt is because her mother was murdered on the street and her father walked out on her mother long before she could remember. She didn't remember her father at all, but completely resented him for not being there for her in her adolescent years. On her way through the shortcut, what looked like a drunk, homeless man started running after her for what seemed to be a run for her laptop, which wasn't worth much anyways, as it honestly was a piece of junk anyways. Even so, it had her homework, reports and music on it, so there is no way she was just going to give him the computer out of utter fear. It was the only thing of worth she owned, and there was no chance her aunt would pitch in for a new one anytime soon.

Instead, she ran as fast as she could from her assailant, and had every intention of out-running him. Insufficient food and rest was not exactly going to help in this case, and her stomach was protesting loudly. However, the stranger came after her with intense speed and she had to rethink her plan of just escaping. She ran into an abandoned, rickety-looking grocery store building in an attempt to try and hide from him until he got bored of the pursuit. Obviously, he did not tire as she hoped and followed her into the building. As she heard his footsteps she scurried to find anything to hide behind, but she found nothing. She climbed up a set of rather old, rickety stairs she spotted a second earlier and found a rusty, old blue crowbar that could be used as a weapon. She knew this man was more danger to her than she had anticipated before, as she was running for dear life. She turned back, and to her dismay, the creep was right behind her, on her trail like a police-man after a robber. This sight only frightened her even more, turned her head back and went from a run to a fast sprint, her blue shoulder bag hitting her side repeatedly. Although she was physically getting worn out from all the running, she kept her pace, as she was determined to stay alive. Damn, this creep is persistent, she thought. The man noticed that she was resisting, so he yelled out words like “little beauty” and “baby” drunkenly, while he was trying to catch up to her.

"I don't want to hurt you, I just want to love you," coaxed the middle-aged man, dressed in tattered rags, an ugly smile emitting from his very thin, pale face and beady eyes, and a smile that induced fear even out of the most incurably demented creature.

"FUCK OFF!!!" she shouted, unable to keep her fear and exasperation to herself any longer. She was notorious for shooting out inappropriate language, and this was probably the only time it was in sync with her emotions, and therefore appropriate to say.

In another attempt to get away, she shot the crowbar across with her black-gloved hand, stretching as far as she made possible. The bar reached the man's face, almost as if to gouge his eyes out. To her dismay, however, he caught it with inhuman agility. Her breaths became sporadic with fear as he neared her body, unharmed and at full physical potential. The smile on his face became more and more creepily sly and cunning. She reached a dead end to the hallway, and the entrance to another room was blocked by a massive amount of old wood and rubble. The dust was in the air, making it tough for the both of them to see. The stranger used his left arm, with the hand carrying the gun, and was able to block out some of the dust from his watering eyes. He smiled an even more devilish grin and walked slowly towards the girl.

"There's nowhere to hide now, just come with me, baby," he said sheepishly. He toothily smiled, revealing the very few yellow teeth that were still in his mouth. The girl cringed, causing her to lose her field of vision at that very moment. The stranger saw this and his confidence continued growing.

As he neared her, the girl stepped backwards until she had reached the end of the hallway. He blocked the only exit for her, which was the door leading to that rusty, old stairwell that existed on the facade of the building.

A dark, narrow, rickety form began to cast a shadow on her surroundings, and she knew there were no other useful weapons she could use, as she quickly observed her surroundings. This is it, she thought, it’s all over.

His smile grew deviously, with each step he took, observing his great find.

She took one last grave look around her, noticing the small ray of light from a still-shining light bulb a few yards away that kept the crevice of the abandoned hallway from total darkness. Her eyes did not leave it, as it was somehow attracting her attention as if she were a moth. Those final hopes of survival had extinguished in her heart as she awaited her death. With one last breath, she shut her eyes, and thought of the warmth her mother gave her to try to comfort her in her final moments.

In everyday life, her mother was only a distant memory, one of overwhelming sadness and resentment. Now, however, the memory was new, alive and growing within her. The girl felt her knuckles lock up as she began to lose sense of time and space, focusing only on the words of her mother: "If you find yourself to be in an unsafe place, shield your love, and hide from your fate." Sweet and quiet was her mother’s voice and it seemed to echo in the whole sky, but that was probably just the girl losing her mind and her sense to make out reality.

Within her, a light emerged, revealing to her an energy and strength she knew not of before. In the distance, the light bulb had suddenly exploded, shattering into a million pieces spraying shards of glass everywhere.The man lifted the crowbar to give the final blow to the girl. All of a sudden, he stopped as a stream of air touched his neck. His hand lowered, and all of a sudden, he felt a stronger gust of wind surround his entire body.

The girl was still in her place, completely rigid. Light had engulfed her whole body and moved over to the man. He was completely engulfed in a heavy and deep twister of wind, and could not see anything that was occurring. The man had sinned all his life, and was now being physically cleaned by the girl's light. Her auburn, dark blonde hair was floating ethereally above her.

His body was disintegrating into nothingness, the particles being carried by the gust of wind. Piece by piece, parts of the old man's physical body were being torn apart while the man was paralyzed. The man’s mind and memories gone, and his conscious all clear. All the while, the girl was envisioning her mother's words, and a certain power, unknown to her before, came forth to every inch of her body. Like a blast of light, the girl hit the man and in a matter of seconds, he completely disappeared. His soul separated from his body and was being taken to his afterlife. The man screeched ear-piercingly before vanishing into thin air.

After making sure of her safety, the memory of her mother had ceased, and she passed out on the floor. She was very exhausted from this occurrence that surprised her. In the distance, a hoarse whisper of a woman was heard, "You did well, love," that seemed to fly with the wind. All became silent, not a single wave of wind was heard in the alley or even in the dark sky.

Who's getting scared now?

2012-07-15T16:21:11Z

Who's getting scared now?, a photo by moonsdescent on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
It's finished! From her "Getting Scared" video, it's Imogen Heap!

My tweets

2012-07-15T12:16:36Z

Sat, 21:08: Post Number One http://t.co/00CS6Md2
Sat, 23:45: Saturday Book Discussion: Is reading good for you? http://t.co/mu2kfd8f
Sun, 01:15: The synopsis of "The Moon's Descent" http://t.co/JpFSQEX7

The synopsis of "The Moon's Descent"

2012-07-15T01:15:21Z

Here is the basic synopsis of the novel.

Life is full of hidden secrets and deceit, and in order to learn what true life is, the goal must be to uncover the truth from the endless abyss. Ava-Sophia Martin was always thinking why she was raised by her Aunt Julie and not her parents. She was told that her parents separated and her mother was murdered, but the story didn't ring true for Ava. It was as if a piece of the puzzle for the meaning of her life was missing from her reach. Danger awaits, however, and for every thing she learns of her past, her trail will be stopped by a force with dark intentions. With the help of her friend, Adam Rossi, however, she will slowly learn what makes every part of her history, whether she is of tainted origin or not.

READ HERE:
Prologue

Saturday Book Discussion: Is reading good for you?

2012-07-14T23:44:58Z

Originally posted by inverarity at Saturday Book Discussion: Is reading good for you?

How many times have you heard this about some crappy book that everyone is reading: "Well, at least it gets people to read."

I first encountered this argument many years ago and it concerned a series of children's book that were basically gross-out stories appealing to the mentality of preteen boys.

Apparently this is still the thinking concerning the hand-wringing issue of "reluctant (boy) readers." How do you get a boy who doesn't like reading to read? Give him a book about nose-picking and farts, apparently. This will lead to him discovering an appreciation for Shakespeare and Proust somewhere down the line.

Likewise, we should be glad that Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey are best-sellers because some of those readers will maybe start reading other things. Like, more vampire romances and BDSM fantasies?

So, I have two questions:

1. Do crappy books targeting people who are, by and large, not "readers" actually lure them into reading more widely?

2. Should we care?

I know #2 sounds almost heretical. "Of course it's good to get people to read more! Reading is good for you! Reading is enlightening! Reading expands the mind!"

I think reading can be good for you and it can be educational and it can expand the mind. Just like eating can be healthy, but that doesn't mean eating Snickers Bars and potato chips implies that you will develop a taste for vegetables and whole grains.

And also, there is nothing wrong with enjoying Snickers Bars and potato chips. Unless that's the only kind of food you like, and you defend it with "At least I'm eating."

Which brings us to a much wider question: what is the purpose of reading? Most of us who read books for enjoyment aren't necessarily seeking out books for literary nutritious value. We want to read a good book, and books that make us think, move us, educate us, or disturb us tend to be the most memorable, the ones we think of as lasting and important. It's to be hoped that at least some of the books you read will do that. But many readers don't even think about whether they "get anything" out of a book. They just want to be entertained. (Or gotten off, in the case of 50SoG.) Nothing wrong with that either, but is there any inherent value in books that serve no other purpose, and should we reflexively celebrate anyone who actually engages in the sacred activity of Reading A Book?

Like most people who love books, I tend to react with horror when I meet someone who admits to not reading. Someone who hasn't read a book in years is, in my experience, not someone I am likely to find very interesting to talk to, and not because all of my conversations involve books. But I am not sure if one can really make a clear argument as to why someone who doesn't read is necessarily less interesting, intelligent, or educated than one who does. We just tend to assume that reading and an active mind go hand in hand, but very smart and mentally active people sometimes have other preoccupations that don't leave them with the time or interest to read.

I also know people who do read, but they never read fiction because they find it a waste of time. Or they'll read fiction, but have absolutely no interest in science fiction and fantasy, not necessarily because they assume all SF&F is juvenile pap (though many do), but because they just don't find such stories relevant or interesting to them. To me, this seems limiting, but only because it runs so strongly against my own tastes and habits, and possibly because I so take it for granted that reading is worthwhile for its own sake that I don't question whether some reading is nothing more than Snickers Bars and potato chips.

You can read a lot of books and not be introduced to a single new idea, or even a new word added to your vocabulary, and if that's the case, can it be said that reading is actually doing anything for you? It's often assumed, for instance, that reading is more wholesome than watching TV or playing video games. If you're an adult who reads nothing but manga and YA, or the latest Hottie McHardbody the Vampire Boffer or Epic Farmboy of Imperial Doorstopping Destiny of Doom fantasy series, is that any less "passive" than a Law & Order marathon?

The premise that reading should be active and intellectually engaging is why there are whole schools of literary critique — the theory being that there is some value in the process of analyzing what you read. This is also why people who "just want to enjoy a book" tend to bleat loudly when their favorite book is subjected to scrutiny. They don't want to do a lot of thinking, and they certainly don't want to be told that their entertainment comes with implicit value judgments and wider implications.

This is just something I have been thinking about a lot lately, as I read everything from schlocky pulp fiction to literary classics. Reading has in recent years become a serious hobby for me, in the sense that I don't just read books, I talk about them, write reviews about them, maintain book lists, and so on. Is it really more worthwhile than stamp collecting or bicycling? Do I have a sharper, broader mind because of all the books I've read? Or is the value only in having a larger cultural and literary awareness? Reading lots of books means I can more easily spot allusions to other books when I read, and compare them when I talk about them, but what is the inherent value in that?

View Poll: Is reading good for you?

Previous Saturday Book Discussions.

Post Number One

2012-07-14T21:08:45Z

After Tumblr decided to kick me out of my blog, I decided to give livejournal a try again. Hopefully, I'll stick with this blog, and yeah. :)